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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36112-8.txt b/36112-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..45d51fb --- /dev/null +++ b/36112-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14765 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sons and Fathers, by Harry Stillwell Edwards + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Sons and Fathers + + +Author: Harry Stillwell Edwards + + + +Release Date: May 14, 2011 [eBook #36112] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONS AND FATHERS*** + + +E-text prepared by Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by +Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/sonsandfathers00edwaiala + + + + + +SONS AND FATHERS + +by + +HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS. + + + + + + + +Published by +The J. W. Burke Company +Macon, Georgia + +The First-Prize Story +In The Chicago Record's series of "Stories of Mystery" + +This story--out of 816 competing--was awarded the FIRST +PRIZE--$10,000--in The Chicago Record's "$30,000 +to Authors" competition. + +Copyright 1896, by Harry Stillwell Edwards. +Copyright 1921, by Harry Stillwell Edwards. + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER I. TWO SONS. + CHAPTER II. THE STRANGER ON THE THRESHOLD. + CHAPTER III. A BREATH FROM THE OLD SOUTH. + CHAPTER IV. THE MOTHER'S ROOM. + CHAPTER V. THE STRANGER IN THE LIBRARY. + CHAPTER VI. "WHO SAYS THERE CAN BE A 'TOO LATE' FOR THE + IMMORTAL MIND?" + CHAPTER VII. "BACK! WOULD YOU MURDER HER?" + CHAPTER VIII. ON THE BACK TRAIL. + CHAPTER IX. THE TRAGEDY IN THE STORM. + CHAPTER X. "GOD PITY ME! GOD PITY ME!" + CHAPTER XI. IN THE CRIMSON OF SUNSET. + CHAPTER XII. THE OLD SOUTH VERSUS THE NEW. + CHAPTER XIII. FEELING THE ENEMY. + CHAPTER XIV. THE OLD SOUTH DRAWS THE SWORD. + CHAPTER XV. "IN ALL THE WORLD, NO FAIRER FLOWER THAN THIS!" + CHAPTER XVI. BEYOND THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT. + CHAPTER XVII. "IF I MEET THE MAN!" + CHAPTER XVIII. HOW THE CHALLENGE WAS WRITTEN. + CHAPTER XIX. BROUGHT TO BAY. + CHAPTER XX. IN THE HANDS OF THEIR FRIENDS. + CHAPTER XXI. "THE WITNESS IS DEAD." + CHAPTER XXII. THE DUEL AT SUNRISE. + CHAPTER XXIII. THE SHADOW OVER THE HALL. + CHAPTER XXIV. THE PROFILE ON THE MOON. + CHAPTER XXV. THE MIDNIGHT SEARCH. + CHAPTER XXVI. GATHERING THE CLEWS. + CHAPTER XXVII. THE FACE THAT CAME IN DREAMS. + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE THREE PICTURES. + CHAPTER XXIX. "HOME SWEET HOME." + CHAPTER XXX. THE RAINBOW IN THE MIST. + CHAPTER XXXI. THE HAND OF SCIENCE. + CHAPTER XXXII. THE FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH. + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE TRADE WITH SLIPPERY DICK. + CHAPTER XXXIV. THE FACE OF THE BODY-SNATCHER. + CHAPTER XXXV. THE GRAVE IN THE PAST. + CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PLEDGE THAT WAS GIVEN. + CHAPTER XXXVII. "WHICH OF THE TWO WAS MY MOTHER?" + CHAPTER XXXVIII. UNDER THE SPELL. + CHAPTER XXXIX. BARKSDALE'S WARNING. + CHAPTER XL. THE HIDDEN HAND. + CHAPTER XLI. WITH THE WOMAN WHO LOVED HIM. + CHAPTER XLII. THE SONG THE OCEAN SANG. + CHAPTER XLIII. THE DEATH OF GASPARD LEVIGNE. + CHAPTER XLIV. THE HEART OF CAMBIA. + CHAPTER XLV. THE MAN WITH THE TORCH. + CHAPTER XLVI. WHAT THE SHEET HID. + CHAPTER XLVII. ON THE MARGINS OF TWO WORLDS. + CHAPTER XLVIII. WAR TO THE KNIFE. + CHAPTER XLIX. PREPARING THE MINE. + CHAPTER L. SLIPPERY DICK RIGHTS A WRONG. + CHAPTER LI. A WOMAN'S WIT CONQUERS. + CHAPTER LII. DEATH OF COL. MONTJOY. + CHAPTER LIII. THE ESCAPE OF AMOS ROYSON. + CHAPTER LIV. HOW A DEBT WAS PAID. + CHAPTER LV. THE UNOPENED LETTER. + CHAPTER LVI. "WOMAN, WHAT WAS HE TO YOU?" + CHAPTER LVII. FRAGMENTARY LIFE RECORDS. + CHAPTER LVIII. "THE LAST SCENE OF ALL" + + + + +SONS AND FATHERS + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +TWO SONS. + + +At a little station in one of the gulf states, where the east and west +trains leave and pick up a few passengers daily, there met in the summer +of 1888 two men who since they are to appear frequently in this record, +are worthy of description. One who alighted from the west-bound train +was about 29 years of age. Tall and slender, he wore the usual +four-button cutaway coat, with vest and trousers to match, which, +despite its inappropriateness in such a climate, was the dress of the +young city man of the south, in obedience to the fashion set by the +northern metropolis. His small feet were incased in neat half-moroccos, +and his head protected by the regulation derby of that year. There was +an inch of white cuffs visible upon his wrists, held with silver link +buttons, and an inch and a half of standing collar, points turned down. +He carried a small traveling bag of alligator skin swung lightly over +his left shoulder, after the English style, and a silk umbrella in lieu +of a cane. This man paced the platform patiently. + +His neighbor was about the same age, dressed in a plain gray cassimer +suit. He wore a soft felt traveling hat and the regulation linen. He +was, however, of heavier build, derived apparently from free living, and +restless, since he moved rapidly from point to point, speaking with +train hands and others, his easy, good-fellow air invariably securing +him courtesy. His face was full and a trifle florid, but very mobile in +expression; while that of the first mentioned was somewhat sallow and +softened almost to sadness by gray eyes and long lashes. As they passed +each other the difference was both noticed and felt. The impressions +that the two would have conveyed to an analyst were action and +reflection. Perhaps in the case of the man in gray the impression would +have been heightened by sight of his two great commercial traveling bags +of Russia leather, bearing the initials "N. M. Jr." + +There was one other passenger on the platform--a very handsome young +woman, seated on her trunk and trying to interest herself in a pamphlet +spread upon her lap, but from time to time she lifted her face, and when +the eyes of the man glanced her way she lowered hers with a half-smile +on her lips. There was something in his tone and manner that disarmed +reserve. + +An officer in uniform came from the little eating-house near by and +approached the party. + +"Are there any passengers for the coast here?" he asked. + +"I am going to Charleston," the young lady said. + +"Where are you from, miss?" Then, seeing her surprise, he continued: +"You must excuse the question but I am a quarantine officer and +Charleston has quarantined against all points that have been exposed to +yellow fever." + +"That, then, does not include me," she said, confidently. "I am from +Montgomery, where there is no yellow fever, and a strict quarantine." + +"Have you a health certificate?" + +"A what?" + +"A ticket from any of the authorities or physicians in Montgomery." + +"No, sir; I am Miss Kitty Blair, and going to visit friends in +Charleston." + +The officer looked embarrassed. The health-certificate regulation and +inland quarantine were new and forced him frequently into unpleasant +positions. + +"You will excuse me," he said, finally; "but have you anything that +could establish that fact, visiting cards, correspondence--" + +"I have told you," she replied, flushing a little, "who I am and where I +am from." + +"That would be sufficient, miss, if all that is needed is a lady's word, +but I am compelled to keep all persons from the east-bound train who +cannot prove their residence in a non-infected district. The law is +impartial." + +"And I cannot go on, then?" There were anxiety and pathos in her eyes +and tones. The gentleman in gray approached. + +"I can fix that, sir," he said, briskly addressing the officer. "I am +not personally acquainted with Miss Blair, but I can testify to what she +says as true. I have seen her in Montgomery almost daily. My name is +Montjoy--Norton Montjoy, Jr. Here are my letters and my baggage is over +yonder." + +"Are you a son of Col. Norton Montjoy of Georgia, colonel of the old +'fire-eaters,' as we used to call the regiment?" + +"Yes, indeed," and a happy smile illumined his face. + +"My name is Throckmorton," said the officer. "I followed your father +three years during the war, and you are--by Jove! you are the brat that +they once brought to camp and introduced as the latest infantry recruit! +Well, I see the likeness now." + +The two men shook hands fervently. The officer bowed to the lady. "The +matter is all right," he said, smiling; "I will give you a paper +presently that will carry you through." The new friends then walked +aside talking with animation. The quarantine officer soon got into war +anecdotes. The other stranger was now left to the amusement of watching +the varying expressions of the girl's face. She continued low over her +book and began to laugh. Presently, with a supreme effort she recovered +herself. Montjoy had shaken off his father's admirer and was coming her +way. She looked up shyly. "I am very much obliged to you for getting me +out of trouble; I----" + +"Don't mention it, miss; these fellows haven't much discretion." + +"But what a fib it was!" + +"How?" + +"I haven't been in Montgomery in two weeks. I came here from an aunt's +in Macon." + +"And I haven't been there in six months!" His laugh was hearty and +infectious. "Here comes your train; let me put you aboard." He secured +her a seat; the repentant quarantine officer supplied her with a ticket, +and then, shaking hands again with his father's friend, Montjoy hurried +to the southwester, which was threatening to get under way. The other +traveler was in and had a window open on the shady side. + +There were men only in the car, and as Montjoy entered he drew off his +coat and dropped it upon his bags. The motion of the starting train did +not add to his comfort. The red dust poured in through the open windows, +invading and irritating the lungs. He thought of the moonlit roof +gardens in New York with something like a groan. + +"Confound such a road!" and down went the book he was seriously trying +to lose himself in. His silent companion's face was lifted toward him: + +"A railroad company that will run cars like this on such a schedule +ought to be abolished, the officers imprisoned, track torn up and +rolling stock burned! But then," he continued, "I am the fool. I ought +not to have come by this God-forsaken route." + +"It is certainly not pleasant traveling to-day," his companion remarked, +sympathetically, showing even, white teeth under his brown mustache. +Montjoy had returned to his seat, but the smooth, even, musical tones of +the other echoed in his memory. He glanced back and presently came and +took a seat near by. + +"Are you a resident of the south?" It was the stranger who spoke first. +This delicate courtesy was not lost on Montjoy. + +"Yes. That is, I count myself a citizen of this state. But I sell +clothing for a New York house and am away from home a great deal." + +"You delivered the young lady at the junction from quite a predicament." + +"Didn't I, though! Well, she is evidently a fine little woman and +pretty. Lies for a pretty woman don't count. By the way--may I ask? What +line of business are you in?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE STRANGER ON THE THRESHOLD. + + +"I am not in business," said the other. "I am a nephew of John Morgan, +of Macon. I suppose you must have known him." + +"Yes, indeed." + +"And am going out to wind up his affairs. I have been abroad and have +only just returned. The news of his death was quite a surprise to me. I +had not been informed that he was ill." + +"Then you are the heir of John Morgan?" + +"I am told so. It is but three days now since I reached this country, +and I have no information except as contained in a brief notice from +attorneys." + +"How long since you have seen him?" + +"I have never seen him--at least not since I was an infant, if then. My +parents left me to his care. I have spent my life in schools until six +or seven years ago, when, after graduating at Harvard and then at +Columbia college in law, I went abroad. Have never seen so much as the +picture of my uncle. I applied to him for one through his New York +lawyer once, sending a new one of myself, and he replied that he had too +much respect for art to have his taken." + +"That sounds like him," and Montjoy laughed heartily. "He was a florid, +sandy-haired man, with eyes always half-closed against the light, stout +and walked somewhat heavily. He has been a famous criminal lawyer, but +for many years has not seemed to care for practice. He was a heavy +drinker, but with all that you could rely implicitly upon what he said. +He left a large property, I presume?" + +"So I infer." Edward looked out of the window, but presently resumed the +conversation. + +"My uncle stood well in the community, I suppose?" + +"Oh, yes; we have lost a good citizen. Do you expect to make your home +with us?" + +"That depends upon circumstances. Very likely I shall." + +"I see! Well, sir, I trust you will. The Morgan place is a nice one and +has been closed to the young people too long." + +"I am afraid they will not find me very gay." A shadow flitted over his +face, blotting out the faint smile. + +The towns and villages glided away. + +Edward Morgan noticed that there was little paint upon the country +houses, and that the fences were gone from the neighborhoods. And then +the sun sank below the black cloud, painting its peaks with gold, and +filling the caverns with yellow light; church spires, tall buildings and +electric-light towers filed by with solemn dignity and then stood +motionless. The journey was at an end. + +"My home is six miles out," said Montjoy, "and if you will go with me I +shall be glad to have you. It is quite a ride, but anything is +preferable to the hotels." + +Morgan's face lighted up quickly at this unexpected courtesy. + +"Thank you," he said "but I don't mind the hotels. I have never had any +other home, sir, except boarding houses." Through his smile there fell +the little, destroying shadow. Montjoy had not expected him to accept, +but he turned now, with his winning manner. + +"Well, then, I insist. We shall find a wagon waiting outside, and +to-morrow I am coming in and shall bring you back. We will have to get +acquainted some of these days, and there is nothing like making an early +start." He was already heading for the sidewalk; his company was as +sunlight and Morgan was tempted to stay in the sunlight. + +"Then I shall go," he said. "You are very kind." + +A four-seated vehicle stood outside and by it a little old negro, who +laughed as Montjoy rapidly approached. + +"Well, Isam," he said, tossing his bag in, "how are all at home?" + +"Dey's all well." + +"By the way, Mr. Morgan, we shall leave your trunks, but I can supply +you with everything for a 'one-night stand.'" + +"I have a valise that will answer, if there is room." + +"Plenty. Let Isam have the check and he will get it." While Morgan was +feeling for his bit of brass Isam continued: + +"Miss Annie will be mighty glad to see you. Sent me in here now goin' on +fo' times an' gettin' madder----" + +"That's all right; here's the check; hurry up." The negro started off +rapidly. + +"Drive by the club, Isam," he said, when the negro had resumed the +lines. "I reckon we'll be too late for supper at home; better get it in +town." + +"Miss Mary save supper for you, sho', Marse Norton." + +"Save, the mischief! Go ahead!" The single horse moved forward in a +dignified trot. + +As they entered the club several young men were grouped near a center +table. There was a vista of open doors, a glimmer of cards and the crash +of billiards. Montjoy walked up and dropped his hat on the table. There +followed a general handshaking. Edward Morgan noticed that they greeted +him with cordiality. Then he saw his manner change and he turned with a +show of formality. + +"Gentlemen, this is my friend, Mr. Morgan, a nephew of Col. John +Morgan." He rapidly pronounced the names of those present, and each +shook the newcomer's hand. At the same time Morgan felt their sudden +scrutiny, but it was brief. Montjoy rang the bell. + +"What are you going to have, gentlemen? John," to the old waiter, "how +are you, John?" + +"First rate, Marse Norton; first rate." The old man bowed and smiled. + +"Take these orders, John. Five toddies, one Rhine wine, and hurry, John! +Oh, John!" The worthy came back. "There is only one mistake you can make +with mine; take care about the water!" + +"All right, sah, all right! Dare won't be any!" + +Montjoy ordered a tremendous supper, as he called it, and while waiting +the half-hour for its preparation, several of the party repeated the +order for refreshments, it appeared to the stranger, with something like +anxiety. It was as though they feared an opportunity to return the +courtesies they had accepted would not be given. None joined them at +supper, but when the newcomers were seated one of the gentlemen lounged +near and dropping into a seat renewed the conversation that had been +interrupted. Champagne had been added to the supper and this gentleman +yielded at length to Montjoy's demand and joined them. + +The conversation ran upon local politics until Morgan began to feel the +isolation. He took to studying the new man and presently felt the +slight, inexplicable prejudice that he had formed upon the introduction, +wearing away. The man was tall, dark and straightly built, probably +thirty years of age, with fine eyes and unchanging countenance. He did +but little talking, and when he spoke it was with great deliberation and +positiveness. If there were an unpleasant shading of character written +there it was in the mouth, which, while not ill-formed, seemed to +promise a relentless disposition. But the high and noble forehead +redeemed it all. This man was now addressing him: + +"You will remain some time in Macon, Mr. Morgan?" + +The voice possessed but few curves; it grated a trifle upon the +stranger. + +"I cannot tell as yet," he said; "I do not know what will be required of +me." + +"Well, I shall be pleased to see you at my place of business whenever +you find an opportunity of calling. Norton, bring Mr. Morgan down to see +me." + +He laid his card by Edward and bade them good-evening. Looking over his +plate, the latter read H. R. Barksdale, president A. F. & C. railroad. +He had not caught the name in the general introduction. "Good fellow," +said Montjoy, between mouthfuls; "talked more to-night than I ever heard +him, and never knew him to pull a card before." + +The night was dark. The road ran over hills, but sometimes was sandy +enough to reduce the horse to his slowest gait. "From this point," said +Montjoy, looking back, "you can see the city five miles away, rather a +good view in the daytime, but now only the scattered electric lights +show up." + +"It looks like the south of France," said Morgan. Montjoy revealed the +direction of his thoughts. + +"You will find things at home very different from what they once were," +he put in. "With free labor the plantations have run down, and it is +very hard for the old planters to make anything out of land now. The +negroes won't work and it hardly pays to plant cotton. I wish often that +father could do something else, but he can't change at his time of +life." + +"Could not the young men do better with the plantations?" + +"Young men! My dear sir, the young men can't afford to work the +plantations; it is as much as they can do to make a living in town--most +of them." + +"Is there room for all?" + +"No, indeed! They are having a hard time of it, I reckon, and salaries +are getting smaller every year." + +"I have heard," said Morgan, slowly, "that labor is the wealth of a +country. It seems to me that if they expect to make anything out of +this, they must labor in the productive branches. Where does the support +for all come from?" + +"From the farms--from cotton, mostly." + +"The negro is, then, after all, the productive agent." + +Montjoy thought a moment, then replied: + +"Yes, as a rule. Manufacturing is increasing and there is some +development in mining, but as a matter of fact the negroes and the poor +whites of the country keep the balance up. Somebody has got to sweat it +out between the plow handles, but you can bet your bottom dollar that +Montjoy is out. I couldn't make $100 a year on the best plantation in +Georgia, but I can make $5,000 selling clothing." + +The dignified horse had climbed his last hill for the night and was just +turning into an avenue, when a dark form came plunging out of the shadow +and collided with him violently. Morgan beheld a rider almost unhorsed +and heard an oath. For an instant only he saw the man's face, white and +malignant, and then it disappeared in the darkness. To Montjoy's +greeting, good-naturedly hurled into the night, there came no reply. + +"My wife's cousin," he said, laughing. "I am glad it is not my horse he +is riding to-night." + +They came up in front of a large house with Corinthian columns and many +lights. There was a sudden movement of chairs upon the long veranda and +then a young woman came slowly down to the gate and lifted her face to +Montjoy's kiss. A pretty boy of five climbed into his arms. Morgan stood +silent, touched by the scene. He started violently as Norton Montjoy, +remembering his presence, called his name. The woman extended her hand. + +"I am very glad to see you," she said, accenting the adjective. Morgan, +sensitive to fine impressions, did not like the voice, although the +courtesy was perfect. + +They advanced to the porch. An old gentleman was standing at the top of +the steps. In the light streaming from the hallway Morgan saw that he +was tall and soldierly and with gray hair pressed back in great waves +from the temples. He put one arm around his son and the other around his +grandson, but did not remove his eyes from the guest. While he addressed +words of welcome and chiding to the former, he was slowly extending his +right hand, seeing which the son said gayly: + +"Mr. Morgan, father--a nephew of Col. John Morgan." The light fell upon +the half-turned face of the old gentleman and showed it lighted by a +mild and benevolent expression and dawning smile. + +"Indeed! Come in, Mr. Morgan, come in; I am glad to see you." + +The words were cordial and tone of voice perfect, but to Edward there +seemed a shading of surprise in the prolonged gaze that rested upon him. + +Norton had passed on to the end of the porch, where an elderly lady sat +upright, prevented from rising by a little girl asleep in her lap. There +were sounds of repeated kisses as she embraced her overgrown boy, and +then her voice: + +"The Duchess tried to keep her eyes open for you, but she could not. Why +are you so late?" Her voice was as the winds in the pines, and the hand +she gave to Morgan a moment later was as cool as chamois and as soft. + +A young girl had come to the doorway. She was simply dressed in white +and her abundant hair was twisted into the Grecian knot that makes some +women appear more womanly. She put her arms about the big brother and +gave her little hand to Morgan. For a moment their eyes met, and then, +gently disengaging her hand, she went to lean against her father's +chair, softly stroking his white hair, while the conversation went +'round. + +"Mary," said the older woman, presently, "Mr. Morgan and Norton have had +a long ride and must be hungry." + +"No," said the latter, checking the girl's sudden movement, "we have had +something to eat in town." + +"You should have waited, my son; it was a needless expense," said the +mother, gently. "But I am afraid you will never practice economy." +Norton laughed and did not dispute the proposition. The young mother and +children disappeared, and Norton gave a spirited account of the +quarantine incident without securing applause. + +"I understand," said the colonel to his guest presently, when +conversation had lulled, "that you are a nephew of John Morgan. I did +not know that he had brothers or sisters----" + +"I am not really a nephew," said Morgan, quietly, "but a distant +relative and always taught to regard him as uncle." Something in his +voice made the young girl lift her eyes. His figure in the half-light +where he sat was immovable. Against the white column beyond, his head, +graceful in its outlines, was sharply silhouetted. It was bent slightly +forward; and while they remained upon the porch, ever at the sound of +his voice she would turn her eyes slowly and let them rest upon the +speaker. But she was silent. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A BREATH FROM THE OLD SOUTH. + + +The room in which Edward Morgan opened his eyes next morning was large +and the ceiling low. The posts of the bed ran up to within a foot of the +latter and supported a canopy. There was no carpet, the curtains were of +chintz and the lambrequins evidently home made. The few pictures on the +wall were portraits, in frames made of pine cones, with clusters of +young cones at the corners. There were home-made brackets, full of swamp +grasses. The bureau had two miniature Tuscan columns, between which was +hung a swivel glass. All was homely but clean and suggestive of a +woman's presence. And through the open windows there floated a delicious +atmosphere, fresh, cool and odorous, with the bloom-breath of tree and +shrub. + +He stepped out of bed and looked forth. For a mile ran the great fields +of cotton and corn, with here and there a cabin and its curl of smoke. A +flock of pigeons were walking about the barn doors, and a number of +goats waited at the side gate, which led into a broad back yard. In the +distance he could see negroes in the fields, hear their songs and the +"clank" of a little grist-mill in the valley. + +But sweeping all other sounds from mind, he heard also another musical +voice calling "Chick! chick! chickee, chickee!" and caught a glimpse of +fowls hurrying from every direction toward the back yard. He plunged his +head into a basin of cool water, and presently he was dressed. + +The front door was open, as it had remained all night, the chairs on the +porch, with here and there books and papers, when Edward Morgan walked +out. The yard was spacious and full of plants. Sunflowers and +poke-berries were growing along the front fence, and mocking birds, +cardinals and jays, their animosities suspended, were breakfasting side +by side. His walk carried him to the side of the house, and, looking +across the low picket fence, he saw Mary. Her sleeves were rolled up +above the elbows and her arms covered with dough from a great pan into +which, from time to time, she thrust a hand. A multitude of ducks, +chickens, turkeys and guineas scrambled about her, and a dozen white +pigeons struggled for standing-room upon her shoulders. + +"May I come in?" he called. + +"If you can stand it, Mr. Morgan." There was not the slightest +embarrassment; the brown eyes were frank and encouraging; he placed his +hands upon the fence and leaped lightly over. + +"What a family you have!" he said. She smiled, turning her face to him +as she scattered dough and gently pushed away the troublesome birds. + +"Many birds' mouths to fill; and they will have to fill some mouths too, +one of these days, poor things." + +"That is but fair." + +"I suppose so; but what a mission in life--just to fill somebody's +mouth." + +"The mission of many poor men and women I have seen," he said, "is +merely to fill mouths. And sometimes they get so poor they can't do +that." + +"And sometimes chickens get the same way," she said, sagely, at which +both laughed outright. Her face resumed its placid expression almost +instantly. "It must be sad to be very poor; how I wish they could +arrange for all of the poor people to come out here and find homes; +there seems to be so much land wasted." + +"They would not stay long anywhere away from the city," he said; "but do +you never sigh for city life?" + +"I prefer it," she replied, simply, "but we cannot afford it. And there +is no one to take care of this place. It is harder on Annie, brother's +wife. She simply detests the country. When I graduated--" + +"You graduated!" he exclaimed, almost incredulously. She looked at him +surprised. + +"Yes, I am young, seventeen this month, but that is not extraordinary. +Mamma graduated at the same age, sixteen, forty years ago." A servant +approached, spoon in hand. + +"Want some more lard, missy." She took her bunch of keys, and selecting +one that looked like the bastile memento at Mount Vernon, unlocked the +smoke-house door and waited. "Half of that will do, Gincy," she said, +not looking around as she talked with Morgan, and the woman returned +half. + +"Now," she continued to him, "I must go see about the milking." + +"I will go, too, if you do not object! This is all new and enjoyable." +They came to where the women were at work. As they stood looking on, a +calf came up and stood by the girl's side, letting her rub its sensitive +ears. A little kid approached, too, and bleated. + +"Aunt Mollie," Mary asked, "has its mother come up yet?" + +"No, ma'am. Spec' somep'n done cotch her!" + +"See if he will drink some cow's milk--give me the cup." She offered him +a little, and the hungry animal drank eagerly. "Let him stay in the yard +until he gets large enough to feed himself." Then turning to Morgan, +laughing, she said: "I expect you are hungry, too; I wonder why papa +does not come." + +"Is he up?" + +"Oh, yes; he goes about early in the morning--there he comes now!" The +soldierly form of the old man was seen out among the pines. "Bring in +breakfast, Gincy," she called, and presently several negroes sped across +the yard, carrying smoking dishes into the cool basement dining-room. +Then the bell rang. + +At the top of the stairway Morgan had an opportunity to better see his +hostess. The lady was slender and moved with deliberation. Her gray hair +was brightened by eyes that seemed to swim with light and sympathy. The +dress was a black silk, old in fashion and texture, but there was real +lace at the throat and wrists, and a little lace headdress. She smiled +upon the young man and gave him her plump hand as he offered to assist +her. + +"I hope you slept well," she said; "no ghosts! That part of the house +you were in is said to be one hundred years old, and must be full of +memories." + +They stood for grace, and then Mary took her place behind the coffee pot +and served the delicious beverage in thin cups of china. The meal +consisted of broiled chicken, hot, light biscuits, bread of cornmeal, +and eggs that Morgan thought delicious, corn cakes, bacon and fine +butter. A little darky behind an enormous apron, but barefooted, stood +by the coffee pot and with a great brush of the gorgeous peacock +feathers kept the few flies off the tiny caster in the middle of the +table, while his eyes followed the conversation around. Presently there +was a clatter on the stairs and the little boy came down and climbed +into his high chair. He was barefooted and evidently ready for +breakfast, as he took a biscuit and bit it. The colonel looked severely +at him. + +"Put your biscuit down," he said, quietly but sternly, "and wait outside +now until the others are through. You came in after grace and you have +not said good-morning." The boy's countenance clouded and he began to +pick at his knife handle; the grandmother said, gently: + +"He'll not do it again, grandpa, and he is hungry, I know. Let him off +this time." Grandpa assumed a very severe expression as he replied, +promptly: + +"Very well, madam; let him say grace and stay, under those +circumstances." The company waited on him, he hesitated, swelled up as +if about to cry and said, earnestly: "Gimme somep'n to eat, for the +Lord's sake, amen." Grandma smiled benignly, but Mary and grandpa were +convulsed. Then other footfalls were heard on the stairs outside, as if +some one were coming down by placing the same foot in front each time. +Presently in walked a blue-eyed, golden-haired, barefooted girl of +three, who went straight to the colonel and held up her arms. He lifted +her and pressed the little cheek to his. + +"Ah," he said, "here comes the Duchess." He gave her a plate next to +his, and taking her fork she ate demurely, from time to time watching +Morgan. + +"Papa ain't up yet," volunteered the boy. "He told mamma to throw his +clothes in the creek as he wouldn't have any more use for them--ain' +going to get up any more." + +"Mamma, does your eye hurt you?" said Mary, seeing the white hand for +the second time raised to her face. + +"A little. The same old pain." + +"Mamma," she explained to Morgan, "has lost the sight of one eye by +neuralgia, tho you would never suspect it. She still suffers dreadfully +at times from the same trouble." + +Presently the elder lady excused herself, the daughter watching her +anxiously as she slowly disappeared. + +It was nearly noon when Norton Montjoy and Edward Morgan reached the law +office of Ellison Eldridge. As they entered Morgan saw a clean-shaven +man of frank, open expression. Norton spoke: + +"Judge, this is Mr. Edward Morgan--you have corresponded with him." +Morgan felt the sudden penetrating look of the lawyer. Montjoy was +already saying au revoir and hastening out, waving off Edward's thanks +as he went. + +"Will see you later," he called back from the stairway, "and don't +forget your promise to the old folks." + +"You got my letter, Mr. Morgan? Please be seated." + +"Yes; three days since, in New York, through Fuller & Fuller. You have, +I believe, the will of the late John Morgan." + +"A copy of it. The will is already probated." He went to his safe and +returned with a document and a bunch of keys. "Shall I read it to you?" + +"If you please." + +The lawyer read, after the usual recitation that begins such documents, +as follows: "Do create, name and declare Edward Morgan of the city of +New York my lawful heir to all property, real and personal, of which I +may die possessed. And I hereby name as executor of this my last will +and testament, Ellison Eldridge of ---- state afore-said, relieving said +Ellison Eldridge of bond as executor and giving him full power to wind +up my estate, pay all debts and settle with the heir as named, without +the order of or returns to any court, and for his services in this +connection a lien of $10,000 in his favor is hereby created upon said +estate, to be paid in full when the residue of property is transferred +to the said Edward Morgan," etc. + +"The property, aside from Ilexhurst, his late home," continued Judge +Eldridge, "consists of $630,000 in government bonds. These I have in a +safety-deposit company. I see the amount surprises you." + +"Yes," said the young man; "I am surprised by the amount." He gave +himself up to thought for a few moments. + +"The keys," said Eldridge, "he gave me a few days before his death, +stating that they were for you only, and that the desk in his room at +home, which they fitted, contained no property." + +"You knew Mr. Morgan well, I presume?" said the young man. + +"Yes, and no. I have seen him frequently for a great many years, but no +man knew him intimately. He was eccentric, but a fine lawyer and a very +able man. One day he came in here to execute this will and left it with +me. He referred to it again but once and that was when he came to bring +your address and photograph." + +"Was there--anything marked--or strange--in his life?" + +"Nothing beyond what I have outlined. He was a bachelor, and beyond an +occasional party to gentlemen in his house, when he spared no expense, +and regular attendance upon the theater, he had few amusements. He +inherited some money; the balance he accumulated in his practice and by +speculation, I suppose. The amount is several times larger than I +suspected. His one great vice was drink. He would get on his sprees two +or three times a year, but always at home. There he would shut himself +up and drink until his housekeeper called in the doctors." Morgan waited +in silence; there was nothing else and he rose abruptly. + +"Judge, we will wind up this matter in a few days. Here are your +letters, and John Morgan's to me, and letters from Fuller & Fuller, who +have known me for many years and have acted as agents for both Col. +Morgan and myself. If more proof is desired----" + +"These are sufficient. Your photograph is accurate. May I ask how you +are related to Col. Morgan?" + +"Distantly only. The fact is I am almost as nearly alone in the world as +he was. I must have your advice touching other matters. I shall return, +very likely, in the morning." + +Upon the street Edward Morgan walked as in a dream. Strange to say, the +information imparted to him had been depressing. He called a carriage. + +"Take me out to John Morgan's," he said, briefly. + +"De colonel's done dead, sah!" + +"I know, but the house is still there, is it not?" + +The driver conveyed the rebuke to his bony horse, in the shape of a +sharp lash, and secured a reasonably fair gait. Once or twice he +ventured observations upon the character of the deceased. + +"Col. Morgan's never asked nobody 'how much' when dey drive 'im; he des +fling down half er doller an' go long 'bout es business. Look to me, +young marster, like you sorter got de Morgan's eye. Is you kinned to +'im?" + +"I employed you to drive, not to talk," said Edward, sharply. + +"Dere now, dat's des what Col. Morgan say!" + +The negro gave vent to a little pacifying laugh and was silent. The +shadow on the young man's face was almost black when he got out of the +hack in front of the Morgan house and tossed the old negro a dollar. + +"Oom-hoo!" said that worthy, significantly. "Oo-hoo! What I tole you?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE MOTHER'S ROOM. + + +The house before which Morgan stood overlooked the city two miles away +and was the center of a vast estate now run to weeds. It was a fine +example of the old style of southern architecture. The spacious roof, +embattled, but unbroken by gable or tower, was supported in front by +eight massive columns that were intended to be Ionic. The space between +them and the house constituted the veranda, and opening from the center +of the house upon this was a great doorway, flanked by windows. This +arrangement was repeated in the story above, a balcony taking the place +of the door. The veranda and columns were reproduced on both sides of +the house, running back to two one-story wings. The house was of slight +elevation and entered in front by six marble steps, flanked by carved +newel posts and curved rails; the front grounds were a hundred yards +wide and fifty deep, inclosed by a heavy railing of iron. These details +came to him afterward; he did not even see at that time the magnolias +and roses that grew in profusion, nor the once trim boxwood hedges and +once active fountain. He sounded loudly upon the front door with the +knocker. + +At length a woman came around the wing room and approached him. She was +middle-aged and wore a colored turban, a white apron hiding her dress. +The face was that of an octoroon; her figure tall and full of dignity. +She did not betray the mixed blood in speech or manner, but her form of +address proclaimed her at once a servant. The voice was low and musical +as she said, "Good-morning, sir," and waited. + +Morgan studied her in silence a moment; his steady glance seemed to +alarm her, for she drew back a step and placed her hand on the rail. + +"I want to see the people who have charge of this house," said the young +man. She now approached nearer and looked anxiously into his face. + +"I have the care of it," she answered. + +"Well," said he, "I am Edward Morgan, the new owner. Let me have the +keys." + +"Edward Morgan!" She repeated the name unconsciously. + +"Come, my good woman, what is it? Where are the keys?" She bowed her +head. "I will get them for you, sir." She went to the rear again, and +presently the great doors swung apart and he entered. + +The hallway was wide and opened through massive folding doors into the +dining-room in the rear, and this dining-room, by means of other folding +doors, entering the wing-rooms, could be enlarged into a princely salon. +The hall floor was of marble and a heavy frieze and centerpiece +decorated walls and ceiling. A gilt chandelier hung from the center. +Antique oak chairs flanked this hallway, which boasted also a hatrack, +with looking-glass six feet wide. A semicircular stairway, guarded by a +carved oak rail, a newel post and a knight in armor, led to apartments +above. A musty odor pervaded the place. + +"Open the house," said Edward; "I must have better air." + +And while this was being done he passed through the rooms into which now +streamed light and fresh air. On the right was parlor and guest chamber, +the hangings and carpets unchanged in nearly half a century. On the left +was a more cheerful living-room, with piano and a rack of yellow sheet +music, and the library, with an enormous collection of books. There were +also cane furniture, floor matting and easy-chairs. + +In all these rooms spacious effects were not lessened by bric-a-brac and +collections. A few portraits and landscapes, a candelabra or two, a pair +of brass fire dogs, one or two large and exquisitely painted vases made +up the ornamental features. The dining-room proper differed in that its +furnishings were newer and more elaborate. The wing-rooms were evidently +intended for cards and billiards. Behind was the southern back porch +closed in with large green blinds. Over all was the chill of isolation +and disuse. + +Edward made his way upstairs among the sleeping apartments, full of old +and clumsy furniture, the bedding having been removed. Two rooms only +were of interest; to the right and rear a small apartment connected with +the larger one in front by a door then locked. This small room seemed to +have been a boy's. There were bows and arrows, an old muzzle-loading +gun, a boat paddle, a dip net, stag horns, some stuffed birds and small +animals, the latter sadly dilapidated, a few game pictures, boots, shoes +and spurs--even toys. A small bed ready for occupancy stood in one +corner and in another a little desk with drop lid. On the hearth were +iron fire dogs and ashes, the latter holding fragments of charred paper. + +For the first time since entering the house Edward felt a human +presence; it was a bright sunny room opening to the western breeze and +the berries of a friendly china tree tapped upon the window as he +approached it. He placed his hand upon the knob of the door, leading +forward, and tried to open it; it was locked. + +"That," said the woman's low voice, "is Col. Morgan's mother's room, +sir, and nobody ever goes in there. No one has entered that room but him +since she died, I reckon more than forty years ago." + +Edward had started violently; he turned to find the sad, changeless face +of the octoroon at his side. + +"And this room?" + +"There is where he lived all his life--from the time he was a boy until +he died." + +Edward took from his pocket the bunch of keys and applied the largest to +the lock of the unopened door; the bolt turned easily. As he crossed the +threshold a thrill went through him; he seemed to trespass. Here had the +boy grown up by his mother, here had been his retreat at all times. When +she passed away it was the one spot that kept fresh the heart of the +great criminal lawyer, who fought the outside world so fiercely and +well. Edward had never known a mother's room, but the scene appealed to +him, and for the first time he felt kinship with the man who preceded +him, who was never anything but a boy here in these two rooms. Even when +he lay dead, back there in that simple bed, over which many a night his +mother must have leaned to press her kisses upon his brow, he was a boy +grown old and lonely. + +One day she had died in this front room! What an agony of grief must +have torn the boy left behind. In the dim light of the room he had +opened, objects began to appear; almost reverently Edward raised a +window and pushed open the shutters. Behind him stood ready for +occupancy a snowy bed, with pillows and linen as fresh seemingly as if +placed there at morn. By the bedside was a pair of small worn slippers, +a rocking chair stood by the east window, and by the chair was a little +sewing stand, with a boy's jacket lying near, and threaded needle thrust +into its texture. On the little center table was a well-worn Bible by a +small brass lamp, and a single painting hung upon the wall--that of a +little farmhouse at the foot of a hill, with a girl in frock and poke +bonnet swinging upon its gate. + +There was no carpet on the floor; only two small rugs. It had been the +home of a girl simply raised and grown to womanhood, and her simplicity +had been repeated in her boy. The great house had been the design of her +husband, but there in these two rooms mother and son found the charm of +a bygone life, delighting in those "vague feelings" which science cannot +fathom, but which simpler minds accept as the whispering of heredity. + +One article only remained unexamined. It was a small picture in a frame +that rested upon the mantel and in front of which was draped a velvet +cloth. Morgan as in a dream drew aside the screen and saw the face of a +wondrously beautiful girl, whose eyes rested pensively upon him. A low +cry escaped the octoroon, who had noiselessly followed him; she was +nodding her head and muttering, all unconscious of his presence. When +she saw at length his face turned in wonder upon her she glided +noiselessly from the room. He replaced the cloth, closed the window +again and tiptoed out, locking the door behind him. + +He found the octoroon downstairs upon the back steps. She was now calm +and answered his questions clearly. She had not belonged to John Morgan, +she said, but had always been a free woman. Her husband had been free, +too, but had died early. She had come to keep house at Ilexhurst many +years ago, before the war, and had been there always since, caring for +everything while Mr. Morgan was in the army, and afterward; when he was +away from time to time. No, she did not know anything of the girl in the +picture; she had heard it said that he was once to have married a lady, +but she married somebody else and that was the end of it. John Morgan +had kept the room as it was. No, he was never married. He had no cousins +or kinfolks that she had heard of except a sister who died, and her two +sons had been killed in battle or lost at sea during the war. Neither of +them was married; she was certain of that. She herself cooked and kept +house, and Ben, a hired boy, attended to the rest and acted as butler. + +Edward was recalled to the present by feeling her eyes fixed upon him. +He caught but one fleeting glance at her face before it was averted; it +had grown young, almost beautiful, and the eyes were moistened and +tender and sad. He turned away abruptly. + +"I will occupy an upper room to-night," he said, "and will send new +furniture to-morrow." His baggage had come and he went back with the +express to the city. He would return, he said, after supper. + +Sometimes the mind, after a long strain imposed upon it, relieves itself +by a refusal to consider. So with Edward Morgan's. That night he stood +by his window and watched the lessening moon rise over the eastern +hills. But he seemed to stand by a low picket fence beyond which a girl, +with bare arms, was feeding poultry. He felt again the power of her +frank, brown eyes as they rested upon him, and heard her voice, musical +in the morning air, as it summoned her flock to breakfast. + +In New York, Paris and Italy, and here there in other lands, were a few +who called him friend; it would be better to wind up his affairs and go +to them. It did not seem possible that he could endure this new life. +Already the buoyancy of youth was gone! His ties were all abroad. + +Thoughts of Paris connected him with a favorite air. He went to his +baggage and unpacked an old violin, and sitting in the window, he played +as a master hand had taught him and an innate genius impelled. It was +Schubert's serenade, and as he played the room was no longer lonely; +sympathy had brought him friends. It seemed to him that among them came +a woman who laid her hand on his shoulder and smiled on him. Her face +was hidden, but her touch was there, living and vibrant. On his cheek +above the mellow instrument he felt his own tears begin to creep and +then--silence. But as he stood calmer, looking down into the night, a +movement in the shrubbery attracted him back to earth; he called aloud: + +"Who is there?" A pause and the tall figure of the octoroon crossed the +white walk. + +"Rita," was the answer. "The gate was left open." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE STRANGER IN THE LIBRARY. + + +Edward was up early and abroad for exercise. Despite his gloom he had +slept fairly well and had awakened but once. But that once! He could not +rid himself of the memory of the little picture and it had served him a +queer trick. He had simply found himself lying with open eyes and +staring at the woman herself; it was the same face, but now anxious and +harassed. He was not superstitious and this was clearly an illusion; he +rubbed his eyes deliberately and looked again. The figure had +disappeared. But the mind that entertains such fancies needs +something--ozone and exercise, he thought; and so he covered the hills +with his rapid pace and found himself an hour later in the city and with +an appetite. + +The day passed in the arrangement of those minor requirements when large +estates descend to new owners. There was an accounting, an examination +of records. Judge Eldridge gave him assistance everywhere, but there was +no time for private and past histories. In passing he dropped in at +Barksdale's office and left a card. + +One of the distinctly marked features of the day was his meeting with a +lawyer, Amos Royson by name. This man held a druggist's claim of several +hundred dollars against the estate of John Morgan for articles purchased +by Rita Morgan, the charges made upon verbal authority from the +deceased. John Morgan had been absent many months just previous to his +death and the account had not been presented. + +Edward was surprised to find, upon entering this office, that the lawyer +was the man who had collided with Montjoy's horse the night before. +Royson saluted him coldly but politely and produced the account already +sworn to and ready for filing. It had been withheld at Eldridge's +request. As Edward ran his eye over the list he saw that chemicals had +been bought at wholesale, and with them had been sent one or two +expensive articles belonging to a chemical laboratory. Just what use +Rita Morgan might have for such things he could not imagine. He was +about to say that he would inquire into the account when he saw that +Royson, with a sardonic smile upon his face, was watching him. He had a +distinct impression that antipathy to the man was stirring within him; +he was about to pay the account and rid himself of the necessity of any +further dealings with the man, when, angered by the impudent, irritating +manner, he decided otherwise. + +"Have you ever shown this account to Rita Morgan?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"And she pronounced it correct, I suppose?" + +"She did not examine it; she said that you would pay it now that John +Morgan is dead." + +"If the account is a just charge upon the Morgan estate I certainly +will," said Morgan, pocketing the written statement. + +"I think after you examine into the matter it will be paid," said +Royson, confidently. Edward thought long upon the man's manner and the +circumstance, but could make nothing out of them. He would see Rita, and +with that resolution he let the incident pass from his mind. + +The shadows were falling when he returned to take his first meal in his +new home. He descended to the dining-room to find it lighted by the +fifty or more jets in the large gilt chandeliers. The apartment +literally blazed with light. The sensation under the circumstances was +agreeable, and in better spirits he took the single seat provided. Here, +as afterward ascertained, had been the lawyer's one point of contact +with the social world, and it was here that he had been accustomed, at +intervals varying from weeks to years, to entertain his city +acquaintances. + +The room was not American but continental from its Louvre ceiling of +white and gold to its niched half life-size statuary and pictures of +fishing and hunting scenes in gilded frames. But the foreign effects +ended in this room. Outside all else was American. + +Edward was silently served by the butler and was pleased to find his +dinner first class in every respect. Then came a box of choice cigars +upon a silver tray. + +Passing into the library, he seated himself by the reading light near +the little side table where a leather chair had been placed, and sought +diversion in the papers; but, alas, the European finds but little of +home affairs in one parliament, a regatta, a horse race, a German-army +review, a social sensation--these were all. + +He turned from the papers; the truth is the one great overwhelming fact +at that moment was that he, a wanderer all of his life, without family +or parents, or knowledge of them, had suddenly been transplanted among a +strange people and made the master of a household and a vast fortune. On +this occasion, as ever since entering the house, he could not rid +himself of a suggestion so indefinite as to belong to the region of +subconsciousness that he was an interloper, an inferior, and that +jealous, unseen eyes were watching him. The room seemed haunted by an +unutterable protest. He was not aware then that this is a peculiarity of +all old houses. + +Something like an oppression seized upon him and he was wondering if +this should continue, would it be possible for him to endure the +situation long? Upstairs was the little desk, the keys to which he held, +and in it information that would lay bare the secret of his life and +reveal the mystery of years ago; which would give him the same chance +for happiness that other men have. All that was left now for him to do +was to ascend the stairs, open the desk and read. He had put it off for +a quiet and convenient moment, and that time had come. + +But what was contained in that desk? He remembered Hamlet and understood +his doubts for the first time. It was the gravity of this doubt, the +weight of the revelation to come that caused him to smoke on, cigar +after cigar, in silence. It flashed upon him that it might be wiser to +take his fortune and return to Europe as he was. But as he smoked his +mind rejected the suggestion as cowardly. + +It was at this stage in his reverie that Edward Morgan received the +severest shock of his life. Without having noticed any sound or +movement, he presently became conscious that some one besides himself +was in the room, and instantly, almost, his eyes rested on a man +standing before the open bookcase. It was a figure, slender and tall, +clad in light, well-worn trousers, and short smoking jacket. The face +turned from him was lifted toward the shelves, and long black hair fell +in shining masses upon his shoulders. The right hand extended upward, +touching first one, then another of the volumes as it searched along the +line, was white as paraffine and slender as a girl's and a fold of +linen, edged with lace, lay upon the wrists. All the other details of +the figure were lost in the shadow. While thus Edward sat, his brain +whirling and eyes riveted upon the strange figure, the visitor paused in +his search as if in doubt, turned his profile and listened, then faced +about suddenly and the two men gazed into each other's eyes. + +Edward had gained his first full view of the visitor's face. Had it been +withdrawn from him in an instant he could at any time thereafter have +reproduced it in every line, so vividly was it impressed upon his +memory. It was new, and yet strangely, dimly, vaguely familiar! It was +oval, pale and lighted by eyes with enormously distended pupils. It +seemed to him that they were not mirrors at that moment, but +scintillating lights burning within their cavities. + +But the first effect, startling though it was, passed away immediately; +nothing could have withstood the gentle pleading entreaty that lurked in +all the face lines; an expression childish and girlish. The stranger +gazed for a moment only on the man sitting bolt upright now in his +chair, his hands clutching the arms, and then went quickly forward. + +"You are Edward Morgan?" he said, encouragingly. "My uncle told me you +would come some day." The deep, indrawn breath that had made the new +master's figure rigid for the moment escaped back slowly between the +parted lips. He was ashamed that he should have been so startled. + +"Yes," he said, presently, "I am Edward Morgan. And you are----" + +"Gerald Morgan. But I must say good-bye now. I have a matter of upmost +importance to conclude." He smiled again, returned to the shelves and +this time without hesitation selected a volume and passed out toward the +dining-room. + +A faint odor of burning material attracted Edward's attention. He looked +for his cigar; it lay upon the matting, in a circle as large as his hat. +He must have sat there watching the door for fifteen minutes after the +singular visitor had passed through. He stamped out the creeping circle +of fire and rang the bell. The octoroon entered and stood waiting, her +eyes cast down. + +"A young man came here a few minutes since and went out through that +door," said he, with difficulty suppressing his excitement: "who is he?" + +She looked to him astonished. + +"Why, that was Mr. Gerald, sir. Don't you know of him? Mr. Gerald +Morgan?" + +"Absolutely nothing. I have never seen him before nor heard of him--no +mention of him has been made in my presence." The woman was clearly +amazed. + +"Is it possible! Your uncle never wrote you about Gerald Morgan--the +lawyers have never told you?" + +"No one has told me, I say; the man is as new to me as if he had dropped +from the clouds." + +She thought a moment. "He must have left papers----" + +"Oh!" exclaimed Edward, starting suddenly; "I have not read the papers! +I see! I see!" + +"You will find it there," she said, relieved. "I thought you knew +already. It did not occur to me to tell you about him, sir! We have +grown used to not speaking of him. He never goes out anywhere now." +Edward was puzzled and then an explanation flashed upon him. + +"He is insane!" he exclaimed. + +"Oh, no, sir! But he has always been delicate--not like other children; +and then the medicine they gave him when he had the pains and was a +baby--he has been obliged to keep it up. It is the morphine and opium, +sir, that has changed him." Edward nodded his head; the explanation was +sufficient. + +"He has lived here a long time, I presume?" + +"Yes, sir. He smokes and reads and paints and does many curious things, +but he never goes out. Sometimes he walks about the place, but generally +at night; and once or twice in the last ten years he has gone down-town, +but it excites him too much and he is apt to die away." + +"Die away?" + +"Yes, sir; the attacks come on him at any time, and so we let him live +on as he wants to and no one sees him. He cannot bear strangers, but he +is not insane, sir. One trouble is, he knows more than his head can +hold--he studies too much." She said this very tenderly and her voice +trembled a little as she finished and turned her face to work nervously. + +"You have not told me who he is." + +"I do not know, sir," and then she added: "He was a baby when I came, +and I have done my best by him." She did not meet his eyes. Her +suffering and embarrassment touched Edward. + +"I will read the papers," he said, gently; "they will tell me all." +Taking this as a dismissal the woman withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +"WHO SAYS THERE CAN BE A 'TOO LATE' FOR THE IMMORTAL MIND?" + + +Something like fear, a superstitious fear, arose in Edwards' heart as he +turned down the lid of the old-fashioned desk in the little room +upstairs and saw the few papers pigeon-holed there with lawyer-like +precision. On the top lay a long envelope sealed and bearing his name. +His hand shook as he held it and studied the chirography. The moment was +one to which he had looked forward for a lifetime and should contain the +explanation of the singular mystery that had environed him from infancy. + +As he held the letter, hesitating over the final act, his life passed in +review as, it is said, do the lives of drowning persons. The thought +that Edward Morgan was dying came in that connection. The orphan, the +lonely college boy, the wandering youth, the bohemian of a dozen +continental capitals, the musician and half-way metaphysicist and +theosophist, the unformed man of an unformed age, new sphere, one of +quick, earnest, feverish action, the new man, was to spring armed, or +hampered by--what? At that moment, by a strange revulsion, the life that +he had worn so hardly, so bitterly, even its sadness seemed dear and +beautiful. After all it had been a life of ease and many scenes. It had +no responsibilities--now it would pass! He tore open the envelope +impatiently and read: + + "Edward Morgan--Sir: When this letter comes to your knowledge + you will have been acquainted with the fact that my will has + made you heir to all my property, without legacy or + restriction. That document was made brief and simple, partly to + avoid complications, and partly to conceal facts with which the + public has no reasonable interest. I now, assured of your + character in every particular, desire that you retain during + the lifetime of Gerald Morgan the residence which has always + been his home, providing for his wants and pleasures freely as + I have done and leaving him undisturbed in the manner of his + life. I direct, further, that you extend the same care and + kindness to Rita Morgan, my housekeeper, seeing that she is not + disturbed in her home and the manner of her life. My object is + to guard the welfare of the only people intimately connected + with me by ties of friendship and association, whom I have not + already provided for. Carrying out this intention, you will as + soon as possible, after coming into possession, take + precautions looking to the future of Gerald Morgan and Rita + Morgan, my housekeeper, in the event of your own death; and the + plan to be selected in this connection I leave to your own good + sense and judgment, only suggesting as adviser for you Ellison + Eldridge, one of the few lawyers living whose heart is outside + of his pocketbook, and whose discretion is perfect. + + "John Morgan." + +That was all. + +The young man, dumfounded, turned over the single sheet of paper that +contained the whole message, examined again the envelope, read and +reread the communication, and finally laid it aside. Not one word of +explanation of his own (Edward's) existence no claim of relationship, no +message of sympathy, only the curt voice of an eccentric old man, +echoing beyond the black wall of mystery and already sunk into eternal +silence. The old life no longer seemed dear or beautiful. It returned +upon him with the dull weight of oppression he had known so long. It was +a bitter ending, a crushing, overwhelming disappointment. + +He smiled at length and lighted another cigar. His mind reverted to the +singular character whose final expression lay upon the desk. His last +act had been to guard against the curious, and that had included the +beneficiary. He had succeeded in living a mystery, in dying a mystery, +and in covering up his past with a mystery. + +"It was well done." Such was Edward's reflection spoken aloud. He +recalled the lines: "I now, assured of your character in every +particular." Every word in that laconic letter, as also every word in +the few communications made to him in life by this man, meant something. +What did these mean? "Assured" by whom? Who had spied upon his actions +and kept watch over him to such an extent as would justify the sweeping +confidences? But he knew that the testator had read him right. A faint +wave of pleasure flushed his cheek and warmed his heart when he realized +the full significance of this tribute to his true character. He no +longer felt like an intruder. + +And yet, "assured" by whom? And who was Gerald Morgan? Not a relative or +he would have said so; he would have said "my nephew, Gerald Morgan." +The same argument shut him (Edward) out. Why this suspicious absence of +relationship terms?--and they, both of them, Morgans and heirs to his +wealth? + +Again he dragged the papers from the desk and ran them over. Manuscripts +all, they contained detached accounts of widely separated people and +incidents, and moreover they were clearly briefed. "A Dramatic Trail," +"The Storm," "A Midnight Struggle," etc. They had no bearing upon his +life; they were the unpublished literary remains of John Morgan. + +Every paper lay exposed; the mine was exhausted. He again read the +letter slowly, idly lifted each paper and returned all to the desk. + +The cigar was out again; he tossed it from the window, locked the desk +and passed into the mother's room. The action was without forethought, +but his new philosophy had taught him the value of instinctive human +actions as index fingers. What cause then had drawn him into that +long-deserted room? As he reflected, his eyes rested upon the picture of +the girl in the little frame on the mantel. He started back, amazed and +overwhelmed. It was the face that had been turned to him in the +library--the face of Gerald Morgan! + +Edward was surprised to find himself standing by the open window when he +had exhausted the train of thought that the recognition put in motion, +and counting his heart-beats, ninety to the minute. By that curious +power or weakness of certain minds his thoughts ran entirely from the +matter in hand along the lines of a lecture his friend Virdow as Jean +had delivered, the theory of which was that organic heart disease, +unless fastened to its victim by inheritance, is always a mental result. +If a mere thought or combination of thoughts could excite, a thought +could depress. It was plain; he would write to Virdow confirming his +theory. + +Then he became conscious that the moon hung like a plate of silver in +the vast sky space of the east and that her light was flashed back by +many little points in the city beneath him--a gilt ball, a vane, a set +of window glasses, and the dew-wet slates of a modern roof. One white +spot was visible in the yard in front, white and pale as the moon when +the vapor had dispersed but set immovably. As he idly sought to unravel +its little secret, it simply became a part of the shadow and invisible, +but he felt that some one was looking up at him; and suddenly he saw the +slender figure of a man pass, cross the gravel walk and vanish in the +shrubbery on the left. + +Edward did not cry out; he stood musing upon the fact, and lo, there +came a glitter of rosy light along the horizon; the moon had vanished +overhead, and sound arose in confused murmurs from the dull heaps of +houses in the valley. He saw again at the moment, over the eastern +hills, the face of a girl as she stood calling her pets, and felt her +eyes upon him. + +When he awoke that day he found the sun far beyond the zenith and he lay +revolving in his mind the events of the night; to his surprise much of +the weight was gone and in its place was interest, the like of which he +had never before known. An object in life had suddenly been developed +and instinctively he felt that the study of this new mystery would lead +to a knowledge of himself and his past. + +The first thing to be done was to again see the stranger who had invaded +his library, and carry his investigation as far as this person would +permit. This in mind, he dressed himself with care and descended into +the dining-room. In a few moments his breakfast was served. Upon hearing +his inquiry for Rita, Ben, the butler, retired and presently the woman, +grave, and after a few words quiet, took his place. Before speaking +Edward noticed her closely again. About fifty years of age, perhaps +less, she stood as erect and rigid as an Indian, her black hair without +a kink. There was an easy dignity in her attitude, hardly the pose of a +slave, or one who had been. But in her face was the sadness of personal +suffering, and in her voice a tone he had noticed at first, an echo of +some depressing experience, it seemed to him. + +Where was Gerald's room? There! He had not noticed the door; it led out +from the dining-room. It was the wing intended for billiards, but now +the retreat of her poor young master and had been all his life. He did +not like to be disturbed, but perhaps the circumstances would make a +difference. + +Edward knocked on the door. Receiving no answer, he opened it +hesitatingly and looked in. Then he entered. Gerald greeted him with an +encouraging smile and closing the door behind him, he viewed the +interior with interest. The walls were hung with pictures, swords, guns, +pistols and other weapons, and between them on every available spot were +books, books, books and periodicals. A broad center table held writing +materials and manuscripts, and upon a long table by two open windows +were bottles of many colors and all the queer paraphernalia of a +chemical laboratory. Against the opposite wall was a spacious divan, and +seated upon it, wrapped in a singular-looking dressing-gown, fez upon +his head and smoking a shibouk as he read, was the strange being for +whom Edward searched. + +"I was expecting you," the young man said; "where have you been?" The +naturalness of the words confused the visitor for a moment. No seat had +been offered him, but he drew one near the divan. + +"I suppose I may smoke?" he said, smiling, ignoring the query, but the +intent look of Gerald caused him to add: "I slept late; how did you +rest?" + +"Do you know," said Gerald, his expression changing, "strange as it may +seem, I have seen you before, but where, where----" The long lashes +dropped above the eyes; he shook his head sadly, "but where, no man may +say." + +"It hardly seems possible," said Edward, gravely. "I have never been +here before, and you, I believe, have never been absent." + +"So they say; so they say. Mere old-nurse talk! I have been to many +places." Edward turned his head in sadness. Man or woman the person was +crazy. He looked again; it was the face of the girl in the picture +frame, grown older, with time and suffering. + +"It is an odd room," he said, presently; "do you sleep here?" + +Gerald nodded to the other door. + +"Would you like to see? Enter." + +To Edward's amazement he found himself in a conservatory, a glass house +about forty by twenty feet, arranged for sliding curtains at sides and +top. There was little to be seen besides a small bed and necessary +furniture. But an easel stood near the center and on it a canvas ready +for painting. In a corner was a large portfolio for drawings, closed. + +"I cannot sleep unless I see the stars," said Gerald, joining him. "And +there is an entrance to the grounds!" He threw open a glass door, +exposing an oleander avenue. "This is my favorite walk." The scene +seemed to strike him anew. He stood there lost in thought a moment and +returned to his divan. Edward found him absorbed in a volume. He had +studied him there long and keenly and reached a conclusion that would, +he felt, be of value in his future associations with this eccentric +mind; it was a mind reversed, living in abstract thought. Its visions of +real life were only glimpses. Therefore, he reasoned, to keep company +with such a mind, one must be prepared for its eccentricities and avoid +discord. + +It was a keen diagnosis and he acted upon it. He went about noiselessly +examining the furnishings of the room without further speech. The young +man was writing as he passed him. Looking over his shoulder, Edward read +a few lines of what was evidently a thesis; + + "The mind can therefore have no conscious memory. Memory being + a function of the brain and physical structure, and mind being + endowed with a capacity for wandering, it follows that it can + bring back no record of its experience since no memory function + went with it. It may, indeed, be true that the mind can itself + be shaped and biased anew by its detached experiences, but who + can ever read its history backwards? Unless somewhere arises a + mind brilliant enough to find the alphabet, to connect the + mind's hidden storehouse with consciousness, the mystery of + mind--life (that is, higher dream life)--must remain forever + unread." + +"It has been found," said Edward, as though Gerald had stated a +proposition aloud. + +"How? Where?" Gerald did not look up, but merely ceased writing a +moment. + +"Music is the connecting link. Music is the language of the mind. +Vibration is the secret of creation and along its lines will all secrets +be revealed." The book closed slowly in the reader's hands, his thesis +slipped to the floor. He sat in deep thought. Then a light gleamed in +his face and eyes. + +"It is true," he said, with agitation, as he arose. "It is a great +thought; a great discovery. I must learn once" and Rita stood waiting. +"Bring me musical instruments--what?" He turned impatiently to Edward. +The latter shook his head. + +"'Tis a lifetime study," he said, sadly, "and then--failure. No man has +yet reached the end." + +"I will reach it." + +"It calls for labor day and night--for talent--for teachers." + +"I will have all." + +"It calls for youth, for a mind young and fresh and responsive. You are +old in mind. It is too late." + +"Too late. Too late. Never, never, never too late. Who says there can be +a 'too late' for the immortal mind? I will begin. I will labor! I will +succeed! If not in this life, then in the next, or the next; aye, at the +foot of Buddha, if need be, I will press to read all to the strains of +music. Oh, blind! Blind! Blind!" He strode about the room in an ecstasy +of excitement. + +"Prove to me it is too late here," shrieked the unhappy being, "and I +will end this existence; will go back a thousand cycles, if necessary, +carrying with me the impression of this truth, and begin, an infant, to +lisp in numbers." + +He had snatched a poniard from the wall and was gesticulating +frantically. Edward was about to speak when he saw the enthusiast's eyes +lose their frenzy and fix upon the woman's. He dropped the weapon and +plunged face downward in despair among the pillows. Like a statue the +woman stood gazing upon him. + +"My violin," said Edward. She disappeared noiselessly. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"BACK! WOULD YOU MURDER HER?" + + +When Edward Morgan went to Europe from Columbia college it was in +obedience to a mandate of John Morgan through the New York lawyers. He +went, began there the life of a bohemian. Introduced by a chance +acquaintance, he fell in first with the art circles of Paris, and, +having a fancy and decided talent for painting, he betook himself +seriously to study. But the same shadow, the same need of an +overpowering motive, pursued him. With hope and ambition he might have +become known to fame. As it was, his mind drifted into subtleties and +the demon change came again. He closed his easel. Rome, Athens, +Constantinople, the occident, all knew him, gave him brief welcome and +quick farewells. + +The years were passing; as he had gone from idleness to art, from art to +history, and from history to archaeology by easy steps, so he passed +now, successively to religion, to philosophy, and to its last broad +exponent, theosophy. + +The severity of this last creed fitted the crucifixion of his spirit. +Its contemplation showed him vacancies in his education and so he went +to Jena for additional study. This decision was reached mainly through +the suggestion of a chance acquaintance named Abingdon, who had come +into his life during his first summer on the continent. They met so +often that the face of this man had became familiar, and one day, glad +to hear his native tongue, he addressed him and was not repelled. + +Abingdon gave to Edward Morgan his confidence; it was not important; a +barrister in an English interior town, he crossed the channel annually +for ramble in the by-ways of Europe. It had been his unbroken habit for +many years. + +From this time the two men met often and journeyed much together, the +elder seeming to find a pleasure in the gravity and earnestness of the +young man, and he in turn a relief in the nervous, jerky lawyer, looking +always through small, half-closed eyes and full of keen conceptions. And +when apart, occasionally he would get a characteristic note from +Abingdon and send a letter in reply. He had so much spare time. + +This man had once surprised him with the remark: + +"If I were twenty years younger I would go to Jena and study vibration. +It is the greatest force of the universe. It is the secret of creation." +The more Edward dwelt upon this remark, in connection with modern +results and invention, the more he was struck with it. Why go to Jena to +study vibration was something that he could not fathom, nor in all +probability could Abingdon. America was really the advanced line of +discovery, but nevertheless he went, and with important results; and +there in the old town, finding the new hobby so intimately connected +with music, to which he was passionately devoted, he took up with +renewed energy his neglected violin. With feverish toil he struggled +along the border land of study and speculation, until he felt that there +was nothing more possible for him--in Jena. + +In Jena his solitary friend had been the eminent Virdow and to him he +became an almost inseparable companion. + +The confidence and speculations of Virdow, extending far beyond the +limits of a lecture stand, carried Edward into dazzling fields. The +intercourse extended through the best part of several years. On leaving +Jena he was armed with a knowledge of the possibilities of the vast +field he had entered upon, with a knowledge of thorough bass and +harmony, and with a technique that might have made him famous had he +applied his knowledge. He did not apply it! + +His final stand had been Paris. Abingdon was there. Abingdon had +discovered a genius and carried Edward to see him. He had been passing +through an obscure quarter when he was attracted by the singular pathos +of a violin played in a garret. To use his expression, "the music +glorified the miserable street." Everybody there knew Benoni, the blind +violinist. And to this man, awed and silent, came Edward, a listener. + +No words can express the meaning that lay in the blind man's +improvisations; only music could contain them. And only one man in Paris +could answer! When having heard the heart language, the heart history +and cravings of the player expressed in the solitude of that +half-lighted garret, Edward took the antique instrument and replied, the +answer was overwhelming. The blind man understood; he threw his arms +about the player and embraced him. + +"Grand!" he cried. "A master plays, but it is incomplete; the final note +has not come; the harmony died where it should have become immortal!" +And Edward knew it. + +From that meeting sprang a warm friendship, the most complete that +Morgan had ever known! It made the old man comfortable, gained him +better quarters and broadened the horizon toward which his sun of life +was setting. It would go down with some of the colors of its morning. + +It became Edward's custom to take his old friend to hear the best operas +and concerts, and one night they heard the immortal Cambia sing. It was +a charity concert and her first appearance in many years. + +When the idol of the older Paris came to the footlights for the sixth +time to bow her thanks for the ovation given her, she smiled and sang in +German a love song, indescribable in its passion and tenderness. It was +a burst of melody from the heart of some man, great one moment in his +life at least. Edward found himself standing when the tumult ceased. +Benoni had sunk from his chair to his knees and was but half-conscious. +The excitement had partially paralyzed him. The lithe fingers of the +left hand were dead. They would never rest again upon the strings of his +great violin--the Cremona to which in sickness and poverty, although its +sale would have enriched him, he clung with the faith and instinct of +the artist. + +There came the day when Edward was ready to depart to America. He went +to say good-bye, and this is what happened: The old man held Edward's +hands long in silence, but his lips moved in prayer; then lifting the +instrument, he placed it in the young man's arms. + +"Take it," he said. "I may never meet you again. It is the one thing +that I have been true to all my life. I will not leave it to the base +and heartless." And so Edward, to please him, accepted the trust. He +would return some day; many hours should the violin sing for the old +man. As he stood he drew the bow and played one strain of Cambia's song +and the blind man lifted his face in sudden excitement. As Edward paused +he called the notes until it was complete. "Now again," he said, +singing: + + If thou couldst love me + As I do love thee, + Then wouldst thou come to me, + Come to me. + Never forsaking me, + Never, oh, never + Forsaking me. + Oceans may roll between, + Thine home and thee + Love, if thou lovest me + Lovest me, + What care we, you and I? + Through all eternity, + I love thee, darling one, + Love me; love me. + +"You have found the secret," said Benoni; "the chords on the lower +octaves made the song." + +And so they had parted! The blind man to wait for the final summons; the +young man to plunge into complications beyond his wildest dreams. + +"A man," said Virdow once, "is a tribe made up of himself, his family +and his friends." And this was the history in outline of the man to whom +Rita Morgan handed the violin that fateful day when Gerald lay face down +among the pillows of his divan. + +Recognizing in the delicate and excitable organism before him the +possibilities of emotion and imagination, Edward prepared to play. +Without hesitation he drew the bow across the strings and began a solemn +prelude to a choral. And as he played he noticed the heaving form below +him grow still. Then Gerald lifted his face and gazed past the player, +with an intensity of vision that deepened until he seemed in the grasp +of some stupendous power or emotion. Edward played the recital; the +story of Calvary, the crucifixion and the mourning women, and the march +of soldiers. Finally there came the tumult of bursting storm and riven +tombs. The climax of action occurred there; it was to die away into a +movement fitted to the resurrection and the peaceful holiness of +Christ's meeting with Mary. But before this latter movement began Gerald +leaped upon the player with the quickness and fury of a tiger and by the +suddenness of the onset nearly bore him to the floor. This mad assault +was accompanied by a shriek of mingled fear and horror. + +"Back--would you murder her?" By a great effort Edward freed himself and +the endangered violin, and forced the assailant to the divan. The +octoroon was kneeling by his side weeping. + +"Leave him to me," she said. Stunned and inexpressibly shocked Edward +withdrew. The grasp on his throat had been like steel! The marks +remained. + +"I have," he wrote that night in a letter to Virdow, "heard you more +than once express the hope that you would some day be able to visit +America. Come now, at once! I have here entered upon a new life and need +your help. Further, I believe I can help you." + +After describing the circumstances already related, the letter +continued: "The susceptibility of this mind to music I regard as one of +the most startling experiences I have ever known, and it will afford you +an opportunity for testing your theories under circumstances you can +never hope for again. Let me say to you here that I am now convinced by +some intuitive knowledge that the assault upon me was based upon a +memory stirred by the sound of the violin; that vibration created anew +in the delicate mind some picture that had been forgotten and brought +back again painful emotions that were ungovernable. I cannot think but +that it is to have a bearing upon the concealed facts of my life; the +discovery of which is my greatest object now, as in the past. And I +cannot but believe that your advice and discretion will guide me in the +treatment and care of this poor being, perhaps to the extent of +affecting a radical change, and leave him a happier and a more rational +being. + +"Come to me, my friend, at once! I am troubled and perplexed. And do not +be offended that I have inclosed exchange for an amount large enough to +cover expenses. I am now rich beyond the comprehension of your +economical German mind, and surely I may be allowed, in the interests of +science, of my ward and myself to spend from the abundant store. I look +for you early. In the meantime, I will be careful in my experiments. +Come at once! _The mind has an independent memory and you can +demonstrate it._" + +Edward knew that there was more on that concluding sentence than in the +rest of the letter and exchange combined, and half-believing it, he +stated it as a prophecy. He was preparing to retire, when it occurred to +him that the strange occupant of the wing-room might need his attention. +Something like affection had sprung up in his heart for the unfortunate +being who, with chains heavier than his own, had missed the diversion of +new scenes, the broadening, the soothing of great landscapes and +boundless oceans. A pity moved him to descend and to knock at the door. +There was no answer. He entered to find the apartment deserted, but the +curtain was drawn from the doorway of the glass-room and he passed in. +Upon the bed in the yellow light of the moon lay the slender figure of +Gerald, one arm thrown around the disordered hair, the other hanging +listless from his side. + +He approached and bent above the bed. The face turned upward there +seemed like wax in the oft-broken gloom. The sleeper had not stirred. It +was the vibration of chords in harmony, that had moved him. Would it +have power again? He hesitated a moment, then returned quickly to the +wing-room and secured his instrument. Concealing himself he waited. It +was but a moment. + +The wind brought the branches of the nearest oleanders against the frail +walls, and the play of lightning had become continuous. Then began in +earnest the tumult of the vast sound waves as they met in the vapory +caverns of the sky. The sleeper tossed restlessly upon his bed; he was +stirred by a vague but unknown power; yet something was wanting. + +At this moment Edward lifted his violin and, catching the storm note, +wove a solemn strain into the diapason of the mighty organ of the sky. +And as he played, as if by one motion, the sleeper stood alone in the +middle of the room. Again Edward saw that frenzied stare fixed upon +vacancy, but there was no furious leap of the agile limbs; by a powerful +effort the struggling mind seemed to throw off a weight and the sleeper +awoke. + +The bow was now suspended; the music had ceased. Gerald rushed to his +easel and, standing in a sea of electric flame, outlined with swift +strokes a woman's face and form. She was struggling in the grasp of a +man and her face was the face of the artist who worked. But such +expression! Agony, horror, despair! + +The figure of the man was not complete from the waist down; his face was +concealed. Between them, as they contended, was a child's coffin in the +arms of the woman. Overhead were the bare outlines of an arch. + +The artist hesitated and added behind the group a tree, whose branches +seemed to lash the ground. And there memory failed; the crayon fell from +his fingers; he stood listless by the canvas. Then with a cry he buried +his face in his hands and wept. + +As he stood thus, the visitor, awed but triumphant, glided through the +door and disappeared in the wing-room. He knew that he had touched a +hidden chord; that the picture on the canvas was born under the +flashlight of memory! Was it brain? Oh, for the wisdom of Virdow! + +Sympathy moved him to return again to the glass-room. It was empty! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +ON THE BACK TRAIL. + + +Edward found himself next day feverish and mentally disturbed; but he +felt new life in the morning air. There was a vehicle available; a roomy +buggy, after the fashion of those chosen by physicians, with covered +tops to keep out the sun, and rubber aprons for the rain. And there was +a good reliable horse, that had traveled the city road almost daily for +ten years. + +He finished his meal and started out. In the yard he found Gerald pale +and with the contracted pupils that betrayed his deadly habit. He was +taking views with a camera and came forward with breathless interest. + +"I am trying some experiments with photographs on the line of our +conversation," he said. "If the mind pictures can be revived they must +necessarily exist. Do they? The question with me now is, can any living +substance retain a photographic impression? You understand, it seems +that the brain can receive these impressions through certain senses, but +the brain is transient; through a peculiar process of supply and waste +it is always coming and going. If it is true that every atom of our +physical bodies undergoes a change at least once in seven years, how can +the impressions survive? I have here upon my plate the sensitized film +of a fish's eyes; I caught it this morning. I must establish, first, the +proposition that a living substance can receive a photographic image; if +I can make an impression remain upon this film I have gained a little +point--a little one. But the fish should be alive. There are almost +insuperable difficulties, you understand! The time will come when a new +light will be made, so powerful, penetrating as to illumine solids. +Then, perhaps, will the brain be seen at work through the skull; then +may its tiny impressions even be found and enlarged; then will the past +give up its secrets. And the eye is not the brain." He looked away in +perplexity. "If I only had brain substance, brain substance--a living +brain!" He hurried away and Edward resumed his journey to the city, sad +and thoughtful. + +"It was not wise," he said, "it was not wise to start Gerald upon that +line of thought. And yet why not as well one fancy as another?" He had +no conception of the power of an idea in such a mind as Gerald's. + +"You did not mention to me," he said an hour later, sitting in +Eldridge's office, "that I would have a ward in charge out at Ilexhurst. +You naturally supposed I knew it, did you not?" + +"And you did not know it?" Eldridge looked at him in unaffected +astonishment. + +"Positively not until the day after I reached the house! I had never +heard of Gerald Morgan. You can imagine my surprise, when he walked in +upon me one night." + +"You really astound me; but it is just like old Morgan--pardon me if I +smile. Of all eccentrics he was the most consistent. Yes, you have a +charge and a serious one. I am probably the only person in the city who +knows something of Gerald, and my information is extremely limited. With +an immense capacity for acquiring information, a remarkable memory and a +keen analysis, the young man has never developed the slightest capacity +for business. He received everything, but applied nothing. I was +informed by his uncle, not long since, that there was no science exact +or occult into which Gerald had not delved at some time, but his mind +seemed content with simply finding out." + +"Gerald has been a most prodigious reader, devouring everything," +continued the judge, "ancient and modern, within reach, knows literature +and politics equally well, and is master of most languages to the point +of being able to read them. I suppose his unfortunate habit--of course +you know of that--is the obstacle now. For many years now I believe, the +young man has not been off the plantation, and only at long intervals +was he ever absent from it. Ten or fifteen years ago he used to be seen +occasionally in the city in search of a book, an instrument or something +his impatience could not wait on." + +"Ten or fifteen years ago! You knew him then before he was grown?" + +"I have known him ever since his childhood!" An exclamation in spite of +him escaped from Edward's lips, but he did not give Eldridge time to +reflect upon it. + +"Is his existence generally known?" asked he, in some confusion. + +"Oh, well, the public knows of his existence. He is the skeleton in +Morgan's closet, that is all." + +"And who is he?" asked Edward, looking the lawyer straight into the +eyes. + +"That," said Eldridge, gravely, "is what I would ask of you." Edward was +silent. He shook his head; it was an admission of ignorance, confirmed +by his next question. + +"Have you no theory, Judge, to account for his existence under such +circumstances?" + +"Theory? Oh, no! The public and myself have always regarded him simply +as a fact. His treatment by John Morgan was one of the few glimpses we +got of the old man's rough, kind nature. But his own silence seemed to +beg silence, and no one within my knowledge ever spoke with him upon the +subject. It would have been very difficult," he added, with a smile, +"for he was the most unapproachable man, in certain respects, that I +ever met." + +"You knew him well? May I ask if ever within your knowledge there was +any romance or tragedy in his earlier life?" + +"I do not know nor have I ever heard of any tragedy in the life of your +relative," said the lawyer, slowly; and then, after a pause: "It is +known to men of my age, at least remembered by some, that late in life, +or when about forty years old, he conceived a violent attachment for the +daughter of a planter in this county and was, it is said, at one time +engaged to her. The match was sort of family arrangement and the girl +very young. She was finishing her education at the north and was to have +been married upon her return; but she never returned. She ran away to +Europe with one of her teachers. The war came on and with it the +blockade. No one has ever heard of her since. Her disappearance, her +existence, were soon forgotten. I remember her because I, then a young +lawyer, had been called occasionally to her father's house, where I met +and was greatly impressed by her. But I am probably one of the few who +have carried in mind her features. She was a beautiful and lovable young +woman, but, without a mother's training she had grown up self-willed and +the result was as I have told you." Edward had risen and was walking the +floor. He paused before the speaker. + +"Judge Eldridge," he said, his voice a little unsteady, "I am going to +ask you a question, which I trust you will be free to answer--will +answer, and then forget." An expression of uneasiness dwelt on the +lawyer's face, but he answered: + +"Ask it; if I am free to answer, and can, I will." + +"I will ask it straight," said Edward, resolutely: "Have you ever +suspected that Gerald Morgan is the son of the young woman who went +away?" + +Eldridge's reply was simply a grave bow. He did not look up. + +"You do not know that to be a fact?" + +"I do not." + +"What, then, is my duty?" + +"To follow the directions left by your relative," said Eldridge, +promptly. + +Edward reflected a few moments over the lawyer's answer. + +"I agree with you, but time may bring changes. May I ask what is your +theory of this strange situation--as regards my ward?" He could not +bring himself to betray the fact of his own mystery. + +"I suppose," said Eldridge, slowly, "that if your guess is correct the +adventure of the lady was an unfortunate one, and that, disowned at +home, she made John Morgan the guardian of her boy. She, more than +likely, is long since dead. It would have been entirely consistent with +your uncle's character if, outraged in the beginning, he was forgiving +and chivalrous in the end." + +"But why was the silence never broken?" + +"I do not know that it was never broken. I have nothing to go upon. I +believe, however, that it never was. The explanations that suggest +themselves to my mind are, first, a pledge of silence exacted from him, +and he would have kept such a pledge under any circumstances. Second, a +difficulty in proving the legitimacy of the boy. You will understand," +he added, "that the matter is entirely suppositious. I would prefer to +think that your uncle saw unhappiness for the boy in a change of +guardianship, and unhappiness for the grandfather, and left the matter +open. You know he died suddenly." + +There was silence of a few moments and Eldridge added: "And yet it does +seem that he would have left the old man something to settle the doubt +which must have rested upon his mind; it is an awful thing to lose a +daughter from sight and live out one's life in ignorance of her fate." +And then, as Edward made no reply, "you found nothing whatever to +explain the matter?" + +"Nothing! In the desk, to which his note directed me, I found only a +short letter of directions; one of which was that I should arrange with +you to provide for Gerald's future in case of my death. The desk +contained nothing else except some manuscripts--fragmentary narratives +and descriptions, they seemed." Eldridge smiled. + +"His one weakness," he said. "Years ago John Morgan became impressed +with the idea that he was fitted for literary work and began to write +short stories for magazines, under _nom de plume_. I was the only person +who shared his secret and together we told many a good story of bench, +bar and practice. Neither of us had much invention and our career--you +see I claim a share--our career was limited to actual occurrences. When +our stock of ammunition was used up we were bankrupt. But it was a +success while it lasted. Mr. Morgan had a rapid, vivid style of +presenting scenes; his stories were full of action and dramatic +situations and made quite a hit. I did not know he had any writings left +over. He used to say, though, as I remember now, speaking in the +serio-comic way he often affected, that the great American novel, so +long expected, lay in his desk in fragments. You have probably gotten +among these. + +"And by the way," continued the judge, impressively, "he was not far +wrong in his estimate of the literary possibilities of this section. The +peculiar institutions of the south, its wealth, its princely planters, +and through all the tangle of love, romance, tragedy and family secrets. +And what a background! The war, the freed slaves, the old +regime--courtly, unchanged, impractical and helpless. Turgeneff wrote +under such a situation in Russia, and called his powerful novel 'Fathers +and Sons.' Mr. Morgan used to say that he was going to call his 'Sons +and Fathers.' Hold to his fragments; he was a close observer, and if you +have literary aspirations they will be suggestive." Edward shook his +head. + +"I have none, but I see the force of your outline. Now about Gerald; I +trust you will think over the matter and let me know what your judgment +suggests. I promised Mr. Montjoy to drop in at the club. I will say +good-morning." + +"No," said Eldridge, "it is my lunch hour and I will go with you." + +Together they went to a business club and Edward was presented to a +group of elderly men who were discussing politics over their glasses. +Among them was Col. Montjoy, in town for a day, several capitalists, a +planter or two, lawyers and physicians. They regarded the newcomer with +interest and received him with perfect courtesy. "A grand man your +relative was, Mr. Morgan, a grand man; perfect type, sir, of the +southern gentleman! The community, sir, has met with an irreparable +loss. I trust you will make your home here, sir. We need good men, sir; +strong, brainy, energetic men, sir." + +So said the central figure, Gen. Albert Evan. + +"Montjoy, you remember cousin Sam Pope of the Fire-Eaters--died in the +ditch at Marye's Heights near Cobb? Perfect likeness of Mr. Morgan here; +same face same figure--pardon the personal allusion, Mr. Morgan, but +your prototype was the bravest of the brave. You do each other honor in +the resemblance, sir! Waiter, fill these glasses! Gentlemen," cried the +general, "we will drink to the health of our young friend and the memory +of Sam Pope. God bless them both." + +Such was Edward's novel reception, and he would not have been human had +he not flushed with pleasure. The conversation ran back gradually to its +original channel. + +"We have been congratulating Col. Montjoy, Mr. Morgan," said one of the +party in explanation to Morgan, "upon the announcement of his candidacy +for congress." + +"Ah," said the latter, promptly bowing to the old gentleman, "let me +express the hope that the result will be such as will enable me to +congratulate the country. I stand ready, colonel, to lend my aid as far +as possible, but I am hampered somewhat by not knowing my own politics +yet. Are you on the Democratic or Republican ticket, colonel?" + +This astonishing question silenced the conversation instantly and drew +every eye upon him. But recovering from his shock, Col. Montjoy smiled +amiably, and said: + +"There is but one party in this state, sir--the Democratic. I am a +candidate for nomination, but nomination is election always with us." +Then to the others present he added: "Mr. Morgan has lived abroad since +he came of age--I am right, am I not, Mr. Morgan?" + +"Quite so. And I may add," continued Edward, who was painfully conscious +of having made a serious blunder, "that I have never lived in the south +and know nothing of state politics." This would have been sufficient, +but unfortunately Edward did not realize it. "I know, however, that you +have here a great problem and that the world is watching to see how you +will handle the race question. I wish you success; the negro has my +sympathy and I think that much can be safely allowed him in the +settlement." + +He remembered always thereafter the silence that followed this earnest +remark, and he had cause to remember it. He had touched the old south in +its rawest point and he was too new a citizen. Eldridge joined him in +the walk back, but Edward let him talk for both. The direction of his +thoughts was indicated in the question he asked at parting. + +"Judge Eldridge, did you purposely withhold the girl's name--my uncle's +fiancee? If so, I will not ask it, but----" + +"No, not purposely, but we handle names reluctantly in this country. She +was Marion Evan, and you but recently met her father." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE TRAGEDY IN THE STORM. + + +Edward returned to Ilexhurst that evening conscious of a mental +uneasiness. He could not account for it except upon the hypothesis of +unusual excitement. His mind had simply failed to react. And yet to his +sensitive nature there was something more. Was it the conversation with +Eldridge and the sudden dissipation of his error concerning Gerald, or +did it date to the meeting in the club? There was a discord somewhere. +He became conscious after awhile that he had failed to harmonize with +his new acquaintances and that among these was Col. Montjoy. He seemed +to feel an ache as though a cold wind blew upon his heart. If he had not +made that unfortunate remark about the negro! He acquitted himself very +readily, but he could not forget that terrible silence. "I have great +sympathy for the negro," he had said. What he meant was that, secure in +her power and intelligence, her courage and advancement, the south could +safely concede much to the lower class. That is what he felt and +believed, but he had not said it that way. He would say it to-morrow to +Col. Montjoy and explain. Relief followed the resolution. + +And then, sitting in the little room, which began to exert a strange +power over him, he reviewed in mind the strange history of the people +whose lives had begun to touch his. The man downstairs, sleeping off the +effects of the drug, taken to dull a feverish brain that had all day +struggled with new problems; what a life his was! Educated beyond the +scope of any single university, Eldridge had said, and yet a child, less +than a child! What romance, what tragedies behind those restless eyes! +And sleeping down yonder by the river in that eternal silence of the +city of the dead, the old lawyer, a mystery living, a mystery dead! What +a depth of love must have stirred the bosom of the man to endure in +silence for so many years for the sake of a fickle girl! What +forgiveness! Or was it revenge? This idea flashed upon Edward with the +suddenness of an inspiration. Revenge! What a revenge! And the woman, +was she living or dead? And if living, were her eyes to watch him, +Edward Morgan, and his conduct? Where was the father and why was the +grandfather ignorant or silent? Then he turned to his own problem. That +was an old story. As he sat dreaming over these things his eyes fell +upon the fragmentary manuscripts, and almost idly he began to read the +briefs upon them. + +One was inscribed, "The Storm," and it seemed to be the bulkiest. +Opening it he began to read; before he knew it he was interested. The +chapter read: + +"Not a zephyr stirred the expectant elms. They lifted their arms against +the starlit sky in shadowy tracery, and motionless as a forest of coral +in the tideless depths of a southern sea. + +"The cloud still rose. + +"It was a cloud indeed. It stretched across the west, far into north and +south, its base lost in the shadow, its upper line defined and advancing +swiftly, surely, flanking the city and shutting out the stars with its +mighty wings. Far down the west the lightning began to tear the mass, +but still the spell of silence remained. When this strange hush is +combined with terrific action, when the vast forces are so swift as to +outrun sound, then, indeed, does the chill of fear leap forth. + +"So came on the cloud. Now the city was half surrounded, its walls +scaled. Half the stars were gone. Some of the flying battalions had even +rushed past! + +"But the elms stood changeless, immovable, asleep! + +"Suddenly one vivid, crackling, tearing, defending flash of intensest +light split the gloom and the thunder leaped into the city! It awoke +then! Every foundation trembled! Every tree dipped furiously. The winds +burst in. What a tumult! They rushed down the parallel streets and +alleys, these barbarians; they came by the intersecting ways! They +fought each other frantically for the spoils of the city, struggling +upward in equal conflict, carrying dust and leaves and debris. They were +sucked down by the hollow squares, they wept and mourned, they sobbed +about doorways, they sung and cheered among the chimneys and the +trembling vanes. They twisted away great tree limbs and hurled them far +out into the spaces which the lightning hollowed in the night! They +drove every inhabitant indoors and tugged frantically at the city's +defenses! They tore off shutters and lashed the housetops with the poor +trees! + +"The focus of the battle was the cathedral! It was the citadel! Here was +wrath and frenzy and despair! The winds swept around and upward, with +measureless force, and at times seemed to lift the great pile from its +foundations. But it was the lashing trees that deceived the eye; it +stood immovable, proud, strong, while the evil ones hurled their +maledictions and screamed defiance at the very door of God's own heart. + +"In vain. In a far up niche stood a weather-beaten saint--the warden. +The hand of God upheld him and kept the citadel while unseen forces +swung the great bell to voice his faith and trust amid the gloom! + +"Then came the deluge, huge drops, bullets almost, in fierceness, +shivering each other until the street-lamps seemed set in driving fog +through which the silvered missiles flashed horizontally--a storm +traveling within a storm. + +"But when the tempest weeps, its heart is gone. Hark! 'Tis the voice of +the great organ; how grand, how noble, how triumphant! One burst of +melody louder than the rest breaks through the storm and mingles with +the thunder's roar. + +"Look! A woman! She has come, whence God alone may know! She totters +toward the cathedral; a step more and she is safe, but it is never +taken! One other frightened life has sought the sanctuary. In the grasp +of the tempest it has traveled with wide-spread wings; a great white sea +bird, like a soul astray in the depths of passion. It falls into the +eddy, struggles wearily toward the lights, whirls about the woman's head +and sinks, gasping, dying at her feet. The God-pity rises within her, +triumphing over fear and mortal anguish. She stands motionless a moment; +she does not take the wanderer to her bosom, she cannot! The winds have +stripped the cover from the burden in her arms! It is a child's coffin, +pressed against her bosom. The moment of safety is gone! In the next a +man, the seeming incarnation of the storm itself, springs upon her, +tears the burden from her and disappears like a shadow within a shadow! + +"Within the cathedral they are celebrating the birth of Christ, without, +the elements repeat the scene when the veil of the temple was rended. + + * * * * * + +"The storm had passed. The lightning still blazed vividly, but silently +now, and at each flash the scene stood forth an instant as though some +mighty artist was making pictures with magnesium. A tall woman, who had +crouched, as one under the influence of an overpowering terror near the +inner door, now crept to the outer, beneath the arch, and looked +fearfully about. She went down the few steps to the pavement. Suddenly +in the transient light a face looked up into hers, from her feet; a face +that seemed not human. The features were convulsed, the eyes set. With a +low cry the woman slipped her arms under the figure on the pavement, +lifted it as though it were that of a child and disappeared in the +night. The face that had looked up was as white as the lily at noon; the +face bent in pity above it was dark as the leaves of that lily scattered +upon the sod." + +Edward read this and smiled, as he laid it aside, and continued with the +other papers. They were brief sketches and memoranda of chapters; +sometimes a single sentence upon a page, just as his friend De +Maupassant used to jot them down one memorable summer when they had +lingered together along the Riviera, but they had no connection with +"The Storm" and the characters therein suggested. If they belonged to +the same narrative the connections were gone. + +Wearied at last he took up his violin and began to play. It is said that +improvisers cannot but run back to the music they have written. +"Calvary" was his masterpiece and soon he found himself lost in its +harmonies. Then by easy steps there rose in memory, as he played, the +storm and Gerald's sketch. He paused abruptly and sat with his bow idle +upon the strings, for in his mind a link had formed between that sketch +and the chapter he had just read. He had felt the story was true when he +read it. The lawyer had said John Morgan wrote from life. Here was the +first act of a drama in the life of a child, and the last, perhaps, in +the life of a woman. + +And that child under the influence of music had felt the storm scene +flash upon his memory and had drawn it. The child was Gerald Morgan. + +Edward laid aside the violin for a moment, went into the front room, +threw open the shutters and loosened his cravat. Something seemed to +suffocate him, as he struggled against the admission of this +irresistible conclusion. Overwhelmed with the significance of the +discovery, he exclaimed aloud: "It was an inherited memory." + +But if the boy had been born under the circumstances set forth in the +sketch, who was the man, and why should he have assaulted the woman who +bore the child's coffin? And what was she doing abroad under such +circumstances? The man and the woman's object was hidden perhaps +forever. But not so the woman; the artist had given her features, and as +for the other woman, the author had said she was dark. There was in +Gerald's mind picture no dark woman; only the girl with the coffin, the +arch above and the faint outlines of bending trees! + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"GOD PITY ME! GOD PITY ME!" + + +Edward was sitting thus lost in the contemplation of the circumstances +surrounding him, when by that subtle sense as yet not analyzed he felt +the presence of another person in the room, and looked over his +shoulder. Gerald was advancing toward him smiling mysteriously. Edward +noticed his burning eyes and saw intense mental excitement gleaming +beyond. The man's mood was different from any he had before revealed. + +"So you have been out among the friends of your family," he said, with +his queer smile. "How did you like them?" Edward was distinctly offended +by the supercilious manner and impertinent question, but he remembered +his ward's condition and resentment passed from him. + +"Pleasant people, Gerald, but I am not gifted with the faculty of making +friends easily. How come on your experiments?" + +The visitor's expression changed. He looked about him guardedly. "They +advance," he replied, in a whisper; "they advance!" + +Whatever his motive for entering that room--a room unfamiliar to him, +for his restless eyes had searched it over and over in the few minutes +he had been in it--was forgotten in the enthusiasm of the scientist. "I +have mapped out a course and am working toward it," he said; and then +presently: "You remember that pictures can now be transmitted by +electricity across great stretches of space and flashed upon a disc? So +goes the scene from the convex surface of the eye along a thread-like +nerve, so flashed the picture in the brain. But somewhere there it +remains. How to prove it, to prove it, that is the question! Oh, for a +brain, a brain to dissect!" He glared at Edward, who shuddered under the +wildness of the eyes bent upon him. "But time enough for that; I must +first ascertain if a picture can be imprinted upon any living substance +by light, and remain. This I can do in another way." + +"How?" Edward was fascinated. + +"It is a great idea. The fish's eye will not do; it is itself a camera +and the protecting film is impression-proof. It lacks the gelatine +surface, but over some fish is spread the real gelatine--in fact, the +very stuff that sensitive plates rely upon. In our lake is a great bass, +that swims deep. I have caught them weighing ten and twelve pounds. They +are pale, greenish white until exposed to the light, when they darken. +If the combined action of the light and air did not actually destroy +this gelatine, they would turn black. The back, which daily receives the +downward ray direct, is as are the backs of most fishes, dark; it is a +spoiled plate. But not so the sides. It is upon this fish I am preparing +to make pictures." + +"But how?" Gerald smiled and shook his head. + +"Wait. It is too important to talk about in advance." + +Edward regarded him long and thoughtfully and felt rising within him a +greater sympathy. It was pitiful that such a mind should die in the +embrace of a mere drug, dragged down to destruction by a habit. "Beyond +the scope of any single university," but not beyond the slavery of a +weed. + +"I have been thinking, Gerald," he said, finally, fixing a steady gaze +upon the restless eyes of his visitor, "that the day is near at hand +when you must bring to your rescue the power of a great will." + +Gerald listened, grew pale and remained silent. Presently he turned to +the speaker. + +"You know, then. Tell me what to do." + +"You must cease the use of morphine and opium." + +Gerald drew a deep breath and smiled good-naturedly. + +"Oh, that is it," he said; "some one has told you that I am a victim of +morphine and opium. Well, what would you think if I should tell you he +is simply mistaken?" + +His face was frank and unclouded. Edward gazed upon him, incredulous. +After a moment's pause, during which Gerald enjoyed his astonishment, he +continued: + +"I was once a victim; there is no doubt of that; but now I am cured. It +was a frightful struggle. A man who has not experienced it or witnessed +it can form no conception of what it means to break away from habitual +use of opium. Some day you may need it and my experience will help you. +I began by cutting my customary allowance for a day in half, and day +after day, week after week, I kept cutting it in half until the time +came when I could not divide it with a razor. Would you believe it, the +habit was as strong in the end as the beginning? I lay awake and thought +of that little speck by the hours; I tossed and cried myself to sleep +over it! I slept and wept myself awake. The only remedy for this and all +habits is a mental victory. I made the fight--I won! + +"I can never forget that day," and he smiled as he said it; "the day I +found it impossible to divide the speck of opium; a breath would have +blown it away, but I would have murdered the man who breathed upon it. I +swallowed it; the touch of that atom is yet upon my tongue; I swallowed +it and slept like a child; and then came the waking! For days I was a +maniac--but it passed. + +"I grew into a new life--a beautiful, peaceful world. It had been around +me all the time but I had forgotten how it looked; a blissful world! I +was cured. + +"Years have passed since that day, and no taste of the hateful drug has +ever been upon my tongue. Not for all the gold in the universe, not for +any secrets of science, not for a look back into the face of my mother," +he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet; "not for a smile from heaven +would I lay hands upon that fiend again!" + +He closed abruptly, his hand trembling, the perspiration beading his +brow. His eyes fell and the woman Rita stood before them, a look of +ineffable sadness and tenderness upon her face. + +"Will you retire now, Master Gerald?" she said, gently. Without a word +he turned and left the room. She was about to follow when Edward, +excited and touched by the scene he had witnessed and full of +discoveries, stopped her with an imperious gesture. + +For a moment he paced the room. Rita was motionless, awaiting with +evident nervousness his pleasure. He came and stood before her, and, +looking her steadily in the face, said, abruptly: + +"Woman, what is the name of that young man, and what is mine?" + +She drew back quickly and her lips parted in a gasp. + +"My God!" he heard her whisper. + +"I demand an answer! You carry the secret of one of us--probably both. +Which is the son of Marion Evans?" + +She sank upon her knees and hid her face in her apron. + +It was all true, then. Edward felt as though he himself would sink down +beside her if the silence continued. + +"Say it," he said, hoarsely; "say it!" + +"As God is my judge," she answered, faintly, "I do not know." + +"One is?" + +"One is." + +"And the other--who is he?" + +"Mine." The answer was like a whisper from the pines wafted in through +the open window. It was loud enough. Edward caught the chair for +support. The world reeled about him. He suffocated. + +Rita still knelt with covered head, but her trembling form betrayed the +presence of the long-restrained emotions. He walked unsteadily to the +mantel, and, drawing the cover from the little picture, went to the +mirror and placed it again by his face. At length he said in despair: + +"God pity me! God pity me!" + +The woman arose then and took the picture and gazed long and earnestly +upon it. A sob burst from her lips. Lifting it again to the level of the +man's face, she looked from one to the other. + +"Enough!" he said, reading it aright. + +Despair had settled over his own face. She handed back the little +likeness, and, clasping her hands, stood in simple dignity awaiting his +will. He noticed then, as he studied her countenance closely, the lines +of suffering there; the infallible record that some faces carry, which, +whether it stands for remorse, for patience, for pure, unbroken sorrow, +is always a consecration. + +"Master, it must have come some time," she said, at length, "but I have +hoped it would not be through me." Her voice was just audible. + +"Be seated," said Morgan. "If your story is true, and it may be so, you +should not stand." He turned away from her and walked to the window; she +was seeking for an opening to begin her story. He began for her: + +"You crouched in a church door to avoid the storm; a woman seeking +shelter there appeared just outside. She was attacked by a man and fell +to the ground unconscious; you carried her off in your arms; her child +was born soon after, and what then?" + +Amazed she stared at him a moment in silence. + +"And mine was born! The fright, the horror, the sickness! It was a +terrible dream; a terrible dream! But a month afterward, I was here +alone with two babies at my breast and the mother was gone. God help me, +and help her! But in that time Master John says I lost the memory of my +child! Master Gerald I claimed, but his face was the face of Miss +Marion, and he was white and delicate like her. And you, sir, were dark. +And then I had never been a slave; John Morgan's father gave me my +liberty when I was born. I lived with him until my marriage, then after +my husband's death, which was just before this storm, they brought me +here and I waited. She never came back. Master Gerald was sickly always +and we kept him, but they sent you away. Master John thought it was +best. And the years have passed quickly." + +"And General Evan--did he never know?" + +"No, sir; I would not let them take Master Gerald, because I believed he +was my child; and Master John, I suppose, would not believe in you. The +families are proud; we let things rest as they were, thinking Miss +Marion would come back some day. But she will not come now; she will not +come!" + +The miserable secret was out. After a long silence Edward lifted his +head and said with deep emotion: "Then, in your opinion, I am your son?" +She looked at him sadly and nodded. + +"And in the opinion of John Morgan, Gerald is the son of Marion Evans?" +She bowed. + +"We have let it stand that way. But you should never have known! I do +not think you were ever to have known." The painful silence that +followed was broken by his question: + +"Gerald's real name?" + +"I do not know! I do not know! All that I do know I have told you!" + +"And the child's coffin?" She pressed her hand to her forehead. + +"It was a dream; I do not know!" + +He gazed upon her with profound emotion and pity. + +"You must be tired," he said, gently. "Think no more of these troubles +to-night." + +She turned and went away. He followed to the head of the stairs and +waited until he heard her step in the hall below. + +"Good-night," he had said, gravely. And from the shadowy depths below +came back a faint, mournful echo of the word. + +When Edward returned to the room he sat by the window and buried his +face upon his arm. Hour after hour passed; the outer world slept. Had he +been of the south, reared there and a sharer in its traditions, the +secret would have died with him that night and its passing would have +been signaled by a single pistol shot. But he was not of the south, in +experience, association or education. + +It was in the hush of midnight that he rose from his seat, took the +picture and descended the steps. The wing-room was never locked; he +entered. Through the drawn curtains of the glass-room he saw the form of +Gerald lying in the moonlight upon his narrow bed. Placing the picture +beside the still, white face of the sleeper, he was shocked by the +likeness. One glance was enough. He went back to his window again. + +One, two, three, four o'clock from the distant church steeple. + +How the solemn numbers have tolled above the sorrow-folds of the human +heart and echoed in the dewless valleys of the mind, the depths to which +we sink when hope is gone! + +But with the dawn what shadows flee! + +So came the dawn at last; the pale, tremulous glimmer on the eastern +hills, the white light, the rosy flush and then in the splendor of +fading mists the giant sun rolled up the sky. + +A man stood pale and weary before the open window at Ilexhurst. "The +odds are against me," he said, grimly, "but I feel a power within me +stronger than evidence. I will match it against the word of this woman, +though every circumstance strengthened that word. The voice of the +Caucasian, not the voice of Ethiopia, speaks within me! The woman does +not believe herself; the mother's instinct has been baffled, but not +destroyed!" + +And yet again, the patrician bearing, the aristocrat! Such was Gerald. + +"We shall see," he said, between his teeth. "Wait until Virdow comes!" + +Nevertheless, when, not having slept, he arose late in the day, he was +almost overwhelmed with the memory of the revelation made to him, and +the effect it must have upon his future. + +At that moment there came into his mind the face of Mary. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +IN THE CRIMSON OF SUNSET. + + +Edward left the house without any definite idea of how he would carry on +the search for the truth of his own history, but his determination was +complete. He did not enter the dining-room, but called for his buggy and +drove direct to the city. He wished to see neither Rita nor Gerald until +the tumult within him had been stilled. His mind was yet in a whirl when +without previous resolution he turned his horse in the direction of "The +Hall" and let it choose its gait. The sun was low when he drew up before +the white-columned house and entered the yard. Mary stood in the doorway +and smiled a welcome, but as he approached she looked into his face in +alarm. + +"You have been ill?" she said, with quick sympathy. + +"Do I look it?" he asked; "I have not slept well. Perhaps that shows +upon me. It is rather dreary work this getting acquainted." He tried to +deceive her with a smile. + +"How ungallant!" she exclaimed, "to say that to me, and so soon after we +have become acquainted." + +"We are old acquaintances, Miss Montjoy," he replied with more +earnestness than the occasion justified. "I knew you in Paris, in Rome, +even in India--I have known you always." She blushed slightly and turned +her face away as a lady appeared leading a little girl. + +"Here is Mr. Morgan, Annie; you met him for a moment only, I believe." + +The newcomer extended her hand languidly. + +"Any one whom Norton is so enthusiastic about," she said, without +warmth, "must be worth meeting a second time." + +Her small eyes rested upon the visitor an instant. Stunned as he had +been by large misfortunes, he felt again the unpleasant impression of +their first meeting. Whether it was the manner, the tone of voice, the +glance or languid hand that slipped limply from his own, or all +combined, he did not know; he did not care much at that time. The young +woman placed the freed hand over the mouth of the child begging for a +biscuit, and without looking down said: + +"Mary, get this brat a biscuit, please. She will drive me distracted." +Mary stooped and the Duchess leaped into her arms, happy at once. Edward +followed them with his eyes until they reached the end of the porch and +Mary turned a moment to receive additional directions from the young +mother. He knew, then, where he had first seen her. She was a little +madonna in a roadside shrine in Sicily, distinct and different from all +the madonnas of his acquaintance, in that she seemed to have stepped up +direct from among the people who knelt there; a motherly little woman in +touch with every home nestling in those hills. The young mother by him +was watching him with curiosity. + +"I have to thank you for a beautiful picture," he said. + +"You are an artist, I suppose?" + +"Yes; a dilletante. But the picture of a woman with her child in her +arms appeals to most men; to none more than those who never knew a +mother nor had a home." He stopped suddenly, the blood rushed to his +face and brain, and he came near staggering. He had forgotten for the +moment. + +He recovered, to find the keen eyes of the woman studying him intently. +Did she know, did she suspect? How this question would recur to him in +all the years! He turned from her, pale and angry. Fortunately, Mary +returned at this moment, the little one contentedly munching upon its +biscuit. The elder Mrs. Montjoy welcomed him with her motherly way, +inquiring closely into his arrangements for comfort out at Ilexhurst. +Who was caring for him? Rita! Well, that was fortunate; Rita was a good +cook and good housekeeper, and a good nurse. He affected a careless +interest and she continued: + +"Yes, Rita lived for years near here. She was a free woman and as a +professional nurse accumulated quite a sum of money, and then her +husband dying, John Morgan had taken her to his house to look after a +young relative who had been left to his care. What has become of this +young person?" she asked. "I have not heard of him for many years." + +"He is still there," said Edward, briefly. + +And then, as they were silent, he continued: "This woman Rita had a +husband; how did they manage in old times? Was he free also? You see, +since I have become a citizen your institutions have a deal of interest +for me. It must have been inconvenient to be free and have someone else +owning the husband." + +He was not satisfied with the effort; he could not restrain an +inclination to look toward the younger Mrs. Montjoy. She was leaning +back in her chair, with eyes half-closed, and smiling upon him. He could +have strangled her cheerfully. The elder lady's voice recalled him. + +"Her husband was free also; that is, it was thought that she had bought +him," and she smiled over the idea. + +A slanting sunbeam came through the window; they were now in the +sitting-room and Mary quickly adjusted the shade to shield her mother's +face. + +"Mamma is still having trouble with her eyes," she said; "we cannot +afford to let her strain the sound one." + +"My eyes do pain me a great deal," the elder Mrs. Montjoy said. "Did you +ever have neuralgia, Mr. Morgan? Sometimes I think it is neuralgia. I +must have Dr. Campbell down to look at my eyes. I am afraid----" she did +not complete the sentence, but the quick sympathy of the man helped him +to read her silence aright. Mary caught her breath nervously. + +"Mary, take me to my room; I think I will lie down until tea. Mr. Morgan +will be glad to walk some, I am sure; take him down to the mill." She +gave that gentleman her hand again; a hand that seemed to him eloquent +with gentleness. "Good-night, if I do not see you again," she said. "I +do not go to the table now on account of the lamp." He felt a lump in +his throat and an almost irresistible desire to throw himself upon her +sympathy. She would understand. But the next instant the idea of such a +thing filled him with horror. It would banish him forever from the +portals of that proud home. + +And ought he not to banish himself? He trembled over the mental +question. No! His courage returned. There had been some horrible +mistake! Not until the light of day shone on the indisputable fact, not +until proof irresistible had said: "You are base-born! Depart!" When +that hour came he would depart! He saw Mary waiting for him at the door; +the young mother was still watching him, he thought. He bowed and strode +from the room. + +"What is it?" said the girl, quickly; "you seem excited." She was +already learning to read him. + +"Do I? Well, let me see; I am not accustomed to ladies' society," he +said, lightly; "so much beauty and graciousness have overwhelmed me." He +was outside now and the fresh breeze steadied him instantly. + +There was a sun-setting before them that lent a glow to the girl's face +and a new light to her eyes. He saw it there first and then in the +skies. Across a gentle slope of land that came down from a mile away on +the opposite side into their valley the sun had gone behind a shower. +Out on one side a fiery cloud floated like a ship afire, and behind it +were the lilac highlands of the sky. The scene brought with it a strange +solemnity. It held the last breath of the dying day. + +The man and girl stood silent for a moment, contemplating the wonderful +vision. She looked into his face presently to find him sadly and +intently watching her. Wondering, she led the way downhill to where a +little boat lay with its bow upon the grassy sward which ran into the +water. Taking one seat, she motioned him to the other. + +"We have given you a Venetian water-color sunset," she said, smiling +away her embarrassment, "and now for a gondola ride." Lightly and +skillfully plying the paddle the little craft glided out upon the lake, +and presently, poising the blade she said, gayly: + +"Look down into the reflection, and then look up! Tell me, do you float +upon the lake or in the cloudy regions of heaven?" He followed her +directions. Then, looking steadily at her, he said, gently: + +"In heaven!" She bent over the boat side until her face was concealed, +letting her hand cool in the crimson water. + +"Mr. Morgan," she said after awhile, looking up from under her lashes, +"are you a very earnest man? I do not think I know just how to take you. +I am afraid I am too matter-of-fact." + +He was feverish and still weighed down by his terrible memory. "I am +earnest now, whatever I may have been," he said, softly, "and believe +me, Miss Montjoy, something tells me that I will never be less than +earnest with you." + +She did not reply at once, but looked off into the cloudlands. + +"You have traveled much?" she said at length, to break the awkward +silence. + +"I suppose so. I have never had what I could call a home and I have +moved about a great deal. Men of my acquaintance," he continued, +musingly, "have been ambitious in every line; I have watched them in +wonder. Most of them sacrifice what would have been my greatest pleasure +to possess--mother and sister and home. I cannot understand that phase +of life; I suppose I never will." + +"Then you have never known a mother?" + +"Never." There was something in his voice that touched her deeply. + +"To miss a mother's affection," she said, with a holy light in her brown +eyes, "is to miss the greatest gift heaven can bestow here. I suppose a +wife somehow takes a mother's place, finally, with every man, but she +cannot fill it. No woman that ever lived can fill my mother's place." + +Loyal little Mary! He fancied that as she thought upon her own remark +her sensitive lips curved slightly. His mind reverted to the sinister +face that they had left in the parlor. + +"Your mother!" he exclaimed, fervently; "would to heaven I had such a +mother!" He paused, overcome with emotion. She looked upon him with +swimming eyes. + +"You must come often, then," she said, softly, "and be much with us. I +will share her with you. Poor mamma! I am afraid--I am afraid for her!" +She covered her face with her hands suddenly and bowed her head. + +"Is she ill, so ill as all that?" he asked, greatly concerned. + +"Oh, no! That is, her eyesight is failing; she does not realize it, but +Dr. Campbell has warned us to be careful." + +"What is the trouble?" He was now deeply distressed. + +"Glaucoma. The little nerve that leads from the cornea to the brain +finally dies away; there is no connection, and then----" she could not +conclude the sentence. + +Edward had never before been brought within the influence of such a +circle. Her words thrilled him beyond expression. He waited a little +while and said: + +"I cannot tell you how much my short experience here has been to me. The +little touch of motherly interest, of home, has brought me more genuine +pleasure than I thought the world held for me. You said just now that +you would share the dear little mamma with me. I accept the generous +offer. And now you must share the care of the little mamma with me. Do +not be offended, but I know that the war has upset your revenues here in +the south, and that the new order of business has not reached a paying +basis. By no act of mine I am independent; I have few responsibilities. +Why may not I, why may not you and I take the little mamma to Paris and +let the best skill in the world be invoked to save her from sorrow?" He, +too, would not, after her failure, say "blindness." + +She looked at him through tears that threatened to get beyond control, +afraid to trust her voice. + +"You have not answered me," he said, gently. She shook her head. + +"I cannot. I can never answer you as I would. But it cannot be, it +cannot be! If that course were necessary, we would have gone long ago, +for, while we are poor, Norton could have arranged it--he can can +arrange anything. But Dr. Campbell, you know, is famous for his skill. +He has even been called to Europe in consultation. He says there is no +cure, but care of the general health may avert the blow all her life. +And so we watch and wait." + +"Still," he urged, "there may be a mistake. And the sea voyage----" + +She shook her head. "You are very, very kind, but it cannot be." + +It flashed over Edward then what that journey would have been. He, with +that sweet-faced girl, the little madonna of his memory, and the patient +mother! In his mind came back all the old familiar places; by his side +stood this girl, her hand upon his arm, her eyes upturned to his. + +And why not! A thrill ran through his heart: he could take his wife and +her mother to Paris! He started violently and leaned forward in the +boat, his glowing face turned full upon her, with an expression in it +that startled her. + +Then from it the color died away; a ghastly look overspread it. He +murmured aloud: + +"God be merciful! It cannot be." She smiled pitifully. + +"No," she said, "it cannot be. But God is merciful. We trust Him. He +will order all things for the best!" Seeing his agitation she continued: +"Don't let it distress you so, Mr. Morgan. It may all come out happily. +See, the skies are quite clear now; the clouds all gone! I take it as a +happy augury!" + +Ashamed to profit by her reading of his feelings, he made a desperate +effort to respond to her new mood. She saw the struggle and aided him. +But in that hour the heart of Mary Montjoy went out for all eternity to +the man before her. Change, disaster, calumny, misfortune, would never +shake her faith and belief in him. He had lost in the struggle of the +preceding night, but here he had won that which death only could end, +and perhaps not death. + +Slowly they ascended the hill together, both silent and thoughtful. He +took her little hand to help her up the terraces, and, forgetting, held +it until, at the gate, she suddenly withdrew it in confusion and gazed +at him with startled eyes. + +The tall, soldierly form of the colonel, her father, stood at the top of +the steps. + +"See," said Edward, to relieve her confusion, "one of the old knights +guarding the castle!" + +And then she called out, gayly: + +"Sir knight, I bring you a prisoner." The old gentleman laughed and +entered into the pleasantry. + +"Well, he might have surrendered to a less fair captor! Enter, prisoner, +and proclaim your colors," Edward started, but recovered, and, looking +up boldly, said: + +"An honorable knight errant, but unknown until his vow is fulfilled." +They both applauded and the supper bell rang. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE OLD SOUTH VERSUS THE NEW. + + +Edward had intended returning to Ilexhurst after tea, but every one +inveighed against the announcement. Nonsense! The roads were bad, a +storm was possible, the way unfamiliar to him! John, the stable boy, had +reported a shoe lost from the horse! And besides, Norton would come out +and be disappointed at having missed him! + +And why go? Was the room upstairs not comfortable? He should have +another! Was the breakfast hour too early? His breakfast should be sent +to his room! + +Edward was in confusion. It was his first collision with the genuine, +unanswerable southern hospitality that survives the wreck of all things. +He hesitated and explained and explaining yielded. + +Supper over, the two gentlemen sat upon the veranda, a cool breeze +wandering in from the western rain area and rendering the evening +comfortable. Mary brought a great jar of delicious tobacco, home raised, +and a dozen corn-cob pipes, and was soon happy in their evident comfort. +As she held the lighter over Edward's pipe he ventured one glance upward +into her face, and was rewarded with a rare, mysterious smile. It was a +picture that clung to him for many years; the girlish face and tender +brown eyes in the yellow glare of the flame, the little hand lifted in +his service. It was the last view of her that night, for the southern +girl, out of the cities, is an early retirer. + +"The situation is somewhat strained," said the colonel; they had reached +politics; "there is a younger set coming on who seem to desire only to +destroy the old order of things. They have had the 'new south' dinged +into their ears until they had come to believe that the old south holds +nothing worth retaining. They are full of railroad schemes to rob the +people and make highways for tramps; of new towns and booms, of +colonization schemes, to bring paupers into the state and inject the +socialistic element of which the north and west are heartily tired. They +want to do away with cotton and plant the land in peaches, plums, +grapes," here he laughed softly, "and they want to give the nigger a +wheeled plow to ride on. It looks as if the whole newspaper fraternity +have gone crazy upon what they call intensive and diversified farming. +Not one of them has ever told me what there is besides cotton that can +be planted and will sell at all times upon the market and pay labor and +store accounts in the fall. + +"And now they have started in this country the 'no-fence' idea and are +about to destroy our cattle ranges," continued the colonel, excitedly. +"In addition to these, the farmers have some of them been led off into a +'populist' scheme, which in its last analysis means that the government +shall destroy corporations and pension farmers. In national politics we +have, besides, the silver question and the tariff, and a large element +in the state is ready for republicanism!" + +"That is the party of the north, I believe," said Edward. + +"Yes, the party that freed the negro and placed the ballot in his hands. +We are so situated here that practically our whole issue is 'white +against black.' We cannot afford to split on any question. We are +obliged to keep the south solid even at the expense of development and +prosperity. The south holds the Saxon blood in trust. Regardless of law, +of constitution, of both combined, we say it is her duty to keep the +blood of the race pure and uncontaminated. I am not prepared to say that +it has been done with entire success; two races cannot exist side by +side distinct. But the Spaniards kept their blue blood through +centuries! + +"The southern families will always be pure in this respect; they are +tenderly guarded," the colonel went on. "Other sections are in danger. +The white negro goes away or is sent away; he is unknown; he is changed +and finds a foothold somewhere. Then some day a family finds in its +folds a child with a dark streak down its spine--have you dropped your +pipe? The cobs really furnish our best smokers, but they are hard to +manage. Try another--and it was known that somewhere back in the past an +African taint has crept in." + +"You astound me," said Edward, huskily; "is that an infallible sign?" + +"Infallible, or, rather, indisputable if it exists. But its existence +under all circumstances is not assured." + +"And what, Mr. Montjoy, is the issue between you and Mr. Swearingen--I +understand that is his name--your opponent in the campaign for +nomination?" + +"Well, it is hard to say. He has been in congress several terms and +thinks now he sees a change of sentiment. He has made bids for the +younger and dissatisfied vote. I think you may call it the old south +versus the new--and I stand for the old south." + +"Where does your campaign open? I was in England once during a political +campaign, about my only experience, if you except one or two incipient +riots in Paris, and I would be glad to see a campaign, in Georgia." + +"We open in Bingham. I am to speak there day after to-morrow and will be +pleased to have you go with us. A little party will proceed by private +conveyance from here--and Norton is probably detained in town to-night +by this matter. The county convention meets that day and it has been +agreed that Swearingen and I shall speak in the morning. The convention +will assemble at noon and make a nomination. In most counties primary +elections are held." + +"I shall probably not be able to go, but this county will afford me the +opportunity I desire. By the way, colonel, your friends will have many +expenses in this campaign, will they not? I trust you will number me +among them and not hesitate to call upon me for my share of the +necessary fund. I am a stranger, so to speak, but I represent John +Morgan until I can get my political bearings accurately adjusted." The +colonel was charmed. + +"Spoken like John himself!" he said. "We are proud, sir, to claim you as +one of us. As to the expenses, unfortunately, we have to rely on our +friends. But for the war, I could have borne it all; now my +circumstances are such that I doubt sometimes if I should in perfect +honor have accepted a nomination. It was forced on me, however. My +friends named me, published the announcement and adjourned. Before +heaven, I have no pleasure in it! I have lived here since childhood, +barring a term or two in congress before the war and four years with Lee +and Johnston, and my people were here before me. I would be glad to end +my days here and live out the intervening ones in sight of this porch. +But a man owes everything to his country." + +Edward did not comment upon the information; at that moment there was +heard the rumble of wheels. Norton, accompanied by a stranger, alighted +from a buggy and came rapidly up the walk. The colonel welcomed his son +with the usual affection and the stranger was introduced as Mr. Robley +of an adjoining county. The men fell to talking with suppressed +excitement over the political situation and the climax of it was that +Robley, a keen manager, revealed that he had come for $1,000 to secure +the county. He had but finished his information, when Norton broke in +hurriedly: + +"We know, father, that this is all outside your style of politics, and I +have told Mr. Robley that we cannot go into any bargain and sale +schemes, or anything that looks that way. We will pay our share of +legitimate expenses, printing, bands, refreshments and carriage hire, +and will not inquire too closely into rates, but that is as far----" + +"You are right, my son! If I am nominated it must be upon the ballots of +my friends. I shall not turn a hand except to lessen their necessary +expenses and to put our announcements before the public. I am sure that +this is all that Mr. Robley would consent to." + +"Why, of course," said that gentleman. And then he looked helpless. +Edward had risen and was pacing the veranda, ready to withdraw from +hearing if the conversation became confidential. Norton was excitedly +explaining the condition of affairs in Robley's county, and that +gentleman found himself at leisure. Passing him Edward attracted his +attention. + +"You smoke, Mr. Robley?" He offered a cigar and nodded toward the far +end of the veranda. "I think you had better let Mr. Montjoy explain +matters to his father," he said. Robley joined him. + +"How much do you need?" said Edward; "the outside figure, I mean. In +other words, if we wanted to buy the county and be certain of getting +it, how much would it take?" + +"Twenty-five hundred--well, $3,000." + +"Let the matter drop here, you understand? Col. Montjoy is not in the +trade. I am acting upon my own responsibility. Call on me in town +to-morrow; I will put up the money. Now, not a word. We will go back." +They strolled forward and the discussion of the situation went on. +Robley grew hopeful and as they parted for the night whispered a few +words to Norton. As the latter carried the lamp to Edward's room, he +said: + +"What does this all mean; you and Robley----" + +"Simply," said Edward, "that I am in my first political campaign and to +win at any cost." + +Norton looked at him in amazement and then laughed aloud. + +"You roll high! We shall win if you don't fail us." + +"Then you shall win." They shook hands and parted. Norton passing his +sister's room, paused in thought, knocked lightly, and getting no reply, +went to bed. Edward turned in, not to sleep. His mind in the silent +hours rehearsed its horrors. He arose at the sound of the first bell and +left for the city, not waiting for breakfast. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +FEELING THE ENEMY. + + +Edward Morgan plunged into the campaign with an energy and earnestness +that charmed the younger Montjoy and astonished the elder. Headquarters +were opened, typewriters engaged, lists of prominent men and party +leaders obtained and letters written. Col. Montjoy was averse to writing +to his many personal friends in the district anything more than a formal +announcement of his candidacy over his own signature. + +"That is all right, father, but if you intend to stick to that idea the +way to avoid defeat is to come down now." But the old gentleman +continued to use his own form of letter. It read: + + "My Dear Sir: I beg leave to call your attention to my + announcement in the Journal of this city, under date of July + 13, wherein, in response to the demands of friends, I consented + to the use of my name in the nomination for congressman to + represent this district. With great respect, I am, sir, your + obedient servant, + + "Norton L. Montjoy." + +He dictated this letter, gave the list to the typewriter, and announced +that when the letters were ready he would sign them. The son looked at +him quizzically: + +"Don't trouble about that, father. You must leave this office work to +us. I can sign your name better than you can. If you will get out and +see the gentlemen about the cotton warehouses you can help us +wonderfully. You can handle them better than anybody in the world." The +colonel smiled indulgently on his son and went off. He was proud of the +success and genius of his one boy, when not grieved at his departure +from the old-school dignity. And then Norton sat down and began to +dictate the correspondence, with the list to guide him. + + "Dear Jim," he began, selecting a well-known friend of his + father, and a companion in arms. "You have probably noticed in + the Journal the announcement of my candidacy for the + congressional nomination. The boys of the old 'Fire-Eaters' did + eat. I am counting on you; you stood by me at Seven Pines, + Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville and a dozen other tight + places, and I have no fear but that your old colonel will find + you with him in this issue. It is the old south against the + riffraff combination of carpetbaggers, scalawags and jaybirds + who are trying to betray us into the hands of the enemy! My + opponent, Swearingen, is a good man in his way, but in devilish + bad company. See Lamar of Company C, Sims, Ellis, Smith and all + the old guard. Tell them I am making the stand of my life! My + best respects to the madam and the grandchildren! God bless + you. Do the best you can. Yours fraternally, + + "N. L. Montjoy." + + "P. S. Arrange for me to speak at your court house some day + soon. Get an early convention called. We fight better on a + charge--old Stonewall's way. + + "N. L. M." + +This letter brought down the house; the house in this instance standing +for a small army of committeemen gathered at headquarters. Norton was +encouraged to try again. + + "The Rev. Andrew Paton, D. D.--Dear Andrew: I am out for + congress and need you. Of course we can't permit you to take + your sacred robes into the mire of politics, but, Andrew, we + were boys together, before you were so famous, and I know that + nothing I can bring myself to ask of you can be refused. A word + from you in many quarters will help. The madam joins me in + regards to you and yours. Sincerely. + + "N. L. Montjoy." + + "P. S. Excuse this typewritten letter, but my hand is old, and + I cannot wield the pen as I did when we put together that first + sermon of yours. + + "M." + +This was an addendum in "the colonel's own handwriting" and it closed +with "pray for me." The letter was vociferously applauded and passers-by +looked up in the headquarters windows curiously. These addenda in the +colonel's own handwriting tickled Norton's fancy. He played upon every +string in the human heart. When he got among the masons he staggered a +little, but managed to work in something about "upright, square and +level." "If I could only have got a few signals from the old gentleman," +he said, gayly, "I would get the lodges out in a body." + +Norton was everywhere during the next ten days. He kept four typewriters +busy getting out "personal" letters, addressing circulars and marking +special articles that had appeared in the papers. One of his sayings +that afterward became a political maxim was: "If you want the people to +help you, let them hear from you before election." And in this instance +they heard. + +Within a few days a great banner was stretched across the street from +the headquarters window, and a band wagon, drawn by four white horses, +carried a brass band and flags bearing the legend: + + "Montjoy at the Court House + Saturday Night." + +Little boys distributed dodgers. + +Edward, taking the cue, entered with equal enthusiasm into the comedy. +He wanted to do the right thing, and he had formed an exaggerated idea +of the influence of money in political campaigns. He hung a placard at +the front door of the Montjoy headquarters that read: + +"One thousand dollars to five hundred that Montjoy is nominated." + +He placed a check to back it in the secretary's hands. This announcement +drew a crowd and soon afterward a quiet-appearing man came in and said: + +"I have the money to cover that bet. Name a stake-holder." + +One was named. Edward was flushed with wine and enthused by the friendly +comments his bold wager had drawn out. + +"Make it $2,000 to $1,000?" he asked the stranger. + +"Well," was the reply, "it goes." + +"Make it $10,000 to $5,000?" said Edward. + +"No!" + +"Ten thousand to four thousand?" + +"No!" + +"Ten thousand to three thousand?" + +"No!" The stranger smiled nervously and, saluting, withdrew. The crowd +cheered until the sidewalk was blockaded. The news went abroad: "Odds of +300 to 100 have been offered on Montjoy, and no takers." + +Edward's bet had the effect of precipitating the campaign in the home +county; it had been opening slowly, despite the rush at the Montjoy +headquarters. The Swearingen men were experienced campaigners and worked +more by quiet organization than display. Such men know when to make the +great stroke in a campaign. The man who had attempted to call young +Morgan's hand had little to do with the management of the Swearingen +campaign, but was engaged in a speculation of his own, acting upon a +hint. + +But the show of strength at the Montjoy headquarters was at once used by +the Swearingen men to stir their friends to action, lest they be bluffed +out of the fight. Rival bands were got out, rival placards appeared and +handbills were thrown into every yard. + +And then came the first personalities, but directed at Edward only. An +evening paper said that "A late citizen, after half a century of +honorable service, and although but recently deceased, seemed to have +fallen into betting upon mundane elections by proxy." And elsewhere: "A +certain class of people and their uncle's money are soon divorced." Many +others followed upon the same line, clearly indicating Edward Morgan, +and with street-corner talk soon made him a central figure among the +Montjoy forces. Edward saw none of these paragraphs, nor did he hear the +gossip of the city. + +This continued for days; in the meantime Edward took Norton home with +him at night and generally one or two others accompanied them. Finally +it came to be settled that Norton and Edward were old friends, and the +friends of Montjoy senior looked on and smiled. + +The other side simply sneered, swore and waited. + +Information of these things reached Mary Montjoy. Annie, the +sister-in-law, came into the city and met her cousin, Amos Royson, the +wild horseman who collided with the Montjoy team upon the night of +Edward's first appearance. This man was one of the Swearingen managers. +His relationship to Annie Montjoy gave him entrance to the family +circle, and he had been for two years a suitor for Mary's hand. + +Royson took a seat in the vehicle beside his cousin and turned the +horse's head toward the park. Annie Montjoy saw that he was in an ugly +mood, and divined the reason. She possessed to a remarkable degree the +power of mind-reading and she knew Amos Royson better than he knew +himself. + +"Tell me about this Edward Morgan, who is making such a fool of +himself," he said abruptly. "He is injuring Col. Montjoy's chances more +than we could ever hope to, and is really the best ally we have!" + +She smiled as she looked upon him from under the sleepy lids, "Why, +then, are you not pleased?" + +"Oh, well, you know, Annie, the unfortunate fact remains that you are +one of the family. I hate to see you mixed up in this matter and a +sharer in the family's downfall." + +"You do not think enough of me to keep out of the way." + +"I cannot control the election, Annie. Swearingen will be elected with +or without my help. But you know my whole future depends upon +Swearingen. Who is Edward Morgan?" + +"Oh, Edward Morgan! Well, you know, he is old John Morgan's heir, and +that is all I know; but," and she laughed maliciously, "he is what +Norton calls 'a rusher,' not only in politics, but elsewhere. He has +seen Mary, and--now you know why he is so much interested in this +election." Amos turned fiercely upon her and involuntarily drew the +reins until the horse stopped. He felt the innuendo and forgot the +thrust. + +"You cannot mean----" he began, and then paused, for in her eyes was a +triumph so devilish, so malicious, that even he, knowing her well, could +not bring himself to gratify it. He knew that she had never forgiven him +for his devotion to Mary. + +"Yes, I mean it! If ever two people were suddenly, hopelessly, foolishly +infatuated with each other that same little hypocritical chit and this +stranger are the two. He is simply trying to put his intended +father-in-law into congress. Do you understand?" + +The man's face was white and only with difficulty could he guide the +animal he was driving. She continued, with a sudden exhibition of +passion: "And Mary! Oh, you should just hear her say 'Ilexhurst'! She +will queen it out there with old Morgan's money and heir, and we----" +she laughed bitterly, "we will stay out yonder, keep a mule boarding +house and nurse sick niggers--that is all it amounts to; they raise corn +half the year and hire hands to feed it out the other half; and the +warehouses get the cotton. In the meantime, I am stuck away out of sight +with my children!" Royson thought over this outburst and then said +gravely: + +"You have not yet answered my question. Who is Edward Morgan--where did +he come from?" + +"Go ask John Morgan," she said, scornfully and maliciously. He studied +long the painted dashboard in front of him, and then, in a sort of awe, +looked into her face: + +"What do you mean, Annie?" She would not turn back; she met his gaze +with determination. + +"Old Morgan has educated and maintained him abroad all his life. He has +never spoken of him to anybody. You know what stories they used to tell +of John Morgan. Can't you see? Challenged to prove his legal right to +his name he couldn't do it." The words were out. The jealous woman took +the lines from his hands and said, sneeringly: "You are making a fool of +yourself, Amos, by your driving, and attracting attention. Where do you +want to get out? I am going back uptown." He did not reply. Dazed by the +fearful hint he sat looking ahead. When she drew rein at a convenient +corner he alighted. There was a cruel light in his gray eyes. + +"Annie," he said, "the defeat of Col. Montjoy lies in your information." + +"Let it," she exclaimed, recklessly. "He has no more business in +congress than a child. And for the other matter, I have myself and my +children's name to protect." + +And yet she was not entirely without caution. She continued: + +"What I have told you is a mere hint. It must not come back to me nor +get in print." She drove away. With eyes upon the ground Royson walked +to his office. + +Amos Royson was of the new south entirely, but not its best +representative. His ambition was boundless; there was nothing he would +have left undone to advance himself politically. His thought as he +walked back to his office was upon the words of his cousin. In what +manner could this frightful hint be made effective without danger of +reaction? At this moment he met the man he was plotting to destroy, +walking rapidly toward the postoffice with Norton Montjoy. The latter +saluted him, gayly, as he passed: + +"Hello, Amos! We have you on the run, my boy!" Amos made no reply to +Norton, nor to Edward's conventional bow. As they passed he noted the +latter's form and poetical face, then somewhat flushed with excitement, +and seemed to form a mental estimate of him. + +"Cold-blooded devil, that fellow Royson," said Norton, as he ran over +his letters before mailing them; "stick a knife in you in a minute." + +But Royson walked on. Once he turned, looked back and smiled +sardonically. "They are both in a bad fix," he said, half-aloud. "The +man who has to look out for Annie is to be pitied." + +At home Annie gave a highly colored account of all she had heard in town +about Edward, made up chiefly of boasts of friends who supposed that her +interest in Col. Montjoy's nomination was genuine, of Norton's report +and the sneers of enemies, including Royson. These lost nothing in the +way of color at her hands. Mary sought her room and after efforts sealed +for Edward this letter: + + "You can never know how grateful we all are for your interest + and help, but our gratitude would be incomplete if I failed to + tell you that there is danger of injuring yourself in your + generous enthusiasm. You must not forget that papa has enemies + who will become yours. This we would much regret, for you have + so much need of friends. Do not put faith in too many people, + and come out here when you feel the need of rest. I cannot + write much that I would like to tell you. Your friend, + + "Mary Montjoy." + + "P. S. Amos Royson is your enemy and he is a dangerous man." + +When Edward received this, as he did next day by the hand of Col. +Montjoy, he was thrilled with pleasure and then depressed with a sudden +memory. That day he was so reckless that even Norton felt compelled, +using his expression, "to call him down." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE OLD SOUTH DRAWS THE SWORD. + + +When Royson reached his office he quietly locked himself in, and, +lighting a cigar, threw himself into his easy-chair. He recalled with +carefulness the minutest facts of his interview with Annie Montjoy, from +the moment he seated himself beside her, until his departure. Having +established these in mind he began the course of reasoning he always +pursued in making an estimate of testimony. The basis of his cousin's +action did not call for much attention; he knew her well. She was as +ambitious as Lucifer and possessed that peculiar defect which would +explain so many women if given proper recognition--lack of ability to +concede equal merit to others. They can admit no uninvited one to their +plane; not even an adviser. They demand flattery as a plant demands +nitrogen, and cannot survive the loss of attention. + +And, reading deeper, Royson saw that the steadfast, womanly soul of the +sister-in-law had, even in the knowledge of his cousin, over-shadowed +hers until she resented even the old colonel's punctilious courtesy; +that in her heart she raged at his lack of informality and accused him +of resting upon the young girl. If she had been made much of, set up as +a divinity, appealed to and suffered to rule, all would have been fair +and beautiful. And then the lawyer smiled and said aloud to that other +self, with whom he communed: "For a while." Such was the woman. + +Long he sat, studying the situation. Once he arose and paced the floor, +beating his fist into his hand and grinding his teeth. + +"Both or none!" he cried, at last. "If Montjoy is nominated I am +shelved; and as for Mary, there have been Sabine women in all ages." + +That night the leaders of the opposition met in secret caucus, called +together by Royson. When, curious and attentive, they assembled in his +private office, he addressed them: + +"I have, gentlemen, to-day found myself in a very embarrassing position; +a very painful one. You all know my devotion to our friend; I need not +say, therefore, that here to-night the one overpowering cause of the +action which I am about to take is my loyalty to him. To-day, from a +source I am not at liberty to state here, I was placed in possession of +a fact which, if used, practically ends this campaign. You must none of +you express a doubt, nor must any one question me upon the subject. The +only question to be discussed is, shall we make use of the fact--and +how?" He waited a moment until the faces of the committee betrayed their +deep interest. + +"Whom do you consider in this city the most powerful single man behind +the movement to nominate Montjoy?" + +"Morgan," said one, promptly. It was their unanimous judgment. + +"Correct! This man, with his money and zeal, has made our chances +uncertain if not desperate, and this man," he continued, excitedly, "who +is posing before the public and offering odds of three to one against us +with old Morgan's money, is not a white man!" + +He had leaned over the table and concluded his remarks in almost a +whisper. A painful silence followed, during which the excited lawyer +glared inquiringly into the faces turned in horror upon him. "Do you +understand?" he shouted at last. They understood. + +A southern man readily takes a hint upon such a matter. These men sat +silent, weighing in their minds the final effect of this announcement. +Royson did not give them long to consider. + +"I am certain of this, so certain that if you think best I will publish +the fact to-morrow and assume the whole responsibility." There was but +little doubt remaining then. But the committee seemed weighed upon +rather than stirred by the revelation; they spoke in low tones to each +other. There was no note of triumph in any voice. They were men. + +Presently the matter took definite shape. An old man arose and addressed +his associates: + +"I need not say, gentlemen, that I am astonished by this information, +and you will pardon me if I do say I regret that it seems true. As far +as I am concerned I am opposed to its use. It is a very difficult matter +to prove. Mr. Royson's informant may be mistaken, and if proof was not +forthcoming a reaction would ruin our friend." No one replied, although +several nodded their heads. At length Royson spoke: + +"The best way to reach the heart of this matter is to follow out in your +minds a line of action. Suppose in a speech I should make the +charge--what would be the result?" + +"You would be at once challenged!" Royson smiled. + +"Who would bear the challenge?" + +"One of the Montjoys would be morally compelled to." + +"Suppose I convince the bearer that a member of his family was my +authority?" Then they began to get a glimpse of the depth of the plot. +One answered: + +"He would be obliged to withdraw!" + +"Exactly! And who else after that would take Montjoy's place? Or how +could Montjoy permit the duel to go on? And if he did find a fool to +bring his challenge, I could not, for the reason given in the charge, +meet his principal!" + +"A court of honor might compel you to prove your charge, and then you +would be in a hole. That is, unless you could furnish proof." + +"And still," said Royson, "there would be no duel, because there would +be no second. And you understand, gentlemen," he continued, smiling, +"that all this would not postpone the campaign. Before the court of +honor could settle the matter the election would have been held. You can +imagine how that election would go when it is known that Montjoy's +campaign manager and right-hand man is not white. This man is +hail-fellow-well-met with young Montjoy; a visitor in his home and is +spending money like water. What do you suppose the country will say when +these facts are handled on the stump? Col. Montjoy is ignorant of it, we +know, but he will be on the defensive from the day the revelation is +made. + +"I have said my action is compelled by my loyalty to Swearingen, and I +reiterate it, but we owe something to the community, to the white race, +to good morals and posterity. And if I am mistaken in my proofs, +gentlemen, why, then, I can withdraw my charge. It will not affect the +campaign already over. But I will not have to withdraw." + +"As far as I am concerned," said another gentleman, rising and speaking +emphatically, "this is a matter upon which, under the circumstances, I +do not feel called to vote! I cannot act without full information! The +fact is, I am not fond of such politics! If Mr. Royson has proofs that +he cannot use publicly or here, the best plan would be to submit them to +Col. Montjoy and let him withdraw, or pull off his lieutenant." He +passed out and several with him. Royson argued with the others, but one +by one they left him. He was bursting with rage. + +"I will determine for myself!" he said, "the victory shall rest in me!" + +Then came the speech of the campaign at the court house. The relations +of Col. Montjoy, his family friends, people connected with him in the +remotest degree by marriage, army friends, members of the bar, +merchants, warehousemen and farmers generally, and a large sprinkling of +personal and political enemies of Swearingen made up the vast crowd. + +In the rear of the hall, a smile upon his face, was Amos Royson. And yet +the secret glee in his heart, the knowledge that he, one man in all that +throng, by a single sentence could check the splendid demonstration and +sweep the field, was clouded. It came to him that no other member of the +Montjoy clan was a traitor. Nowhere is the family tie so strong as in +the south, and only the power of his ambition could have held him aloof. +Swearingen had several times represented the district in Congress; it +was his turn when the leader moved on. This had been understood for +years by the political public. In the meantime he had been state's +attorney and there were a senatorship, a judgeship and possibly the +governorship to be grasped. He could not be expected to sacrifice his +career upon the altar of kinship remote. Indeed, was it not the duty of +Montjoy to stand aside for the sake of a younger man? Was it not true +that a large force in his nomination had been the belief that +Swearingen's right-hand man would probably be silenced thereby? It had +been a conspiracy. + +These thoughts ran through his mind as he stood watching the gathering. + +On the stage sat Edward Morgan, a prominent figure and one largely +scanned by the public; and Royson saw his face light up and turn to a +private box; saw his smile and bow. A hundred eyes were turned with his, +and discovered there, half concealed by the curtains, the face of Mary +Montjoy. The public jumped to the conclusion that had previously been +forced on him. + +Over Royson's face surged a wave of blood; a muttered oath drew +attention to him and he changed his position. He saw the advancing +figure of Gen. Evan and heard his introductory speech. The morning paper +said it was the most eloquent ever delivered on such an occasion; and +all that the speaker said was: + +"Fellow-citizens, I have the honor to introduce to you this evening Col. +Norton Montjoy. Hear him." + +His rich bass voice rolled over the great audience; he extended his arm +toward the orator of the evening, and retired amid thunders of applause. +Then came Col. Montjoy. + +The old south was famous for its oratory. It was based upon personal +independence, upon family pride and upon intellect unhampered by +personal toil in uncongenial occupations; and lastly upon sentiment. +Climate may have entered into it; race and inheritance undoubtedly did. +The southern orator was the feature of congressional displays, and back +in congressional archives lie orations that vie with the best of Athens +and of Rome. But the flavor, the spectacular effects, linger only in the +memory of the rapidly lessening number who mingled deeply in ante-bellum +politics. No pen could have faithfully preserved this environment. + +So with the oration that night in the opening of the Montjoy campaign. +It was not transmissible. Only the peroration need be reproduced here: + +"God forbid!" he said in a voice now husky with emotion and its long +strain, "God forbid that the day shall come when the south will +apologize for her dead heroes! Stand by your homes; stand by your +traditions; keep our faith in the past as bright as your hopes for the +future! No stain rests upon the honor of your fathers! Transmit their +memories and their virtues to posterity as its best inheritance! Defend +your homes and firesides, remembering always that the home, the family +circle, is the fountain head of good government! Let none enter there +who are unclean. Keep it the cradle of liberty and the hope of the +English race on this continent, the shrine of religion, of beauty, of +purity!" + +He closed amid a tumult of enthusiasm. Men stood on chairs to cheer; +ladies wept and waved their handkerchiefs, and then over all arose the +strange melody that no southern man can sit quiet under. "Dixie" rang +out amid a frenzy of emotion. Veterans hugged each other. The old +general came forward and clasped hands with his comrade, the band +changing to "Auld Lang Syne." People crowded on the stage and outside +the building the drifting crowd filled the air with shouts. + +The last man to rise from his seat was Edward Morgan. Lost in thought, +his face lowered, he sat until some one touched him on the shoulder and +called him back to the present. And out in the audience, clinging to a +post, to resist the stream of humanity, passing from the aisles, his +eyes strained forward, heedless of the banter and jeers poured upon him, +Royson watched as best he could every shade upon the stranger's face. A +cry burst from his lips. "It was true!" he said, and dashed from the +hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +"IN ALL THE WORLD, NO FAIRER FLOWER THAN THIS!" + + +The city was in a whirl on election day; hacks and carriages darted here +and there all day long, bearing flaming placards and hauling voters to +the polls. Bands played at the Montjoy headquarters and everything to +comfort the inner patriot was on hand. + +Edward had taken charge of this department and at his own expense +conducted it. He was the host. All kinds of wines and liquors and malt +drinks, a constantly replenished lunch, that amounted to a banquet, and +cigars, were at all hours quickly served by a corps of trained waiters. +In all their experience, old election stagers declared never had this +feature of election day been so complete. It goes without saying that +Montjoy's headquarters were crowded and that a great deal of the +interest which found expression in the streets was manufactured there. + +It was a fierce struggle; the Swearingen campaign in the county had been +conducted on the "still-hunt" plan, and on this day his full strength +was polled. It was Montjoy's home county, and if it could be carried +against him, the victory was won at the outset. + +On the other hand, the Montjoy people sought for the moral effect of an +overwhelming victory. There was an expression of general relief in the +form of cheers, when the town clocks struck five and the polls windows +fell. Anxiety followed, and then bonfires blazed, rockets exploded and +all night long the artillery squad fired salutes. Montjoy had won by an +unlooked-for majority and the vote of the largest county was secure. + +Edward had resolutely refused to think upon the discovery unfolded to +him. With reckless disregard for the future he had determined to bury +the subject until the arrival of Virdow. But there are ghosts that will +not come down at the bidding, and so in the intervals of sleep, of +excitement, of politics, the remembrance of the fearful fate that +threatened him came up with all the force and terror of a new +experience. + +Ilexhurst was impossible to him alone and he held to Norton as long as +he could. There was to be a few days' rest after the home election, and +the younger Montjoy seized this opportunity to run home and, as he +expressed it, "get acquainted with the family." Edward, without +hesitation, accepted his invitation to go with him. They had become firm +friends now and Edward stood high in the family esteem. Reviewing the +work that had led up to Col. Montjoy's magnificent opening and oration, +all generously conceded that he had been the potent factor. + +It was not true, in fact; the younger Montjoy had been the genius of the +hour, but Edward's aid and money had been necessary. The two men were +received as conquering heroes. As she held his hand in hers old Mrs. +Montjoy said: + +"You have done us a great service, Mr. Morgan, and we cannot forget it," +and Mary, shy and happy, had smiled upon him and uttered her thanks. +There was one discordant note, the daughter-in-law had been silent until +all were through. + +"And I suppose I am to thank you, Mr. Morgan, that Norton has returned +alive. I did not know you were such high livers over at Ilexhurst," she +smiled, maliciously. "Were you not afraid of ghosts?" + +Edward looked at her with ill-disguised hatred. For the first time he +realized fully that he was dealing with a dangerous enemy. How much did +she know? He could make nothing of that serenely tranquil face. He bowed +only. She was his friend's wife. + +But he was not at ease beneath her gaze and readily accepted Mary's +invitation to ride. She was going to carry a note from her father to a +neighbor, and the chance of seeing the country was one he should not +neglect. They found a lazy mule and ancient country buggy at the door. +He thought of the outfit of the sister-in-law. "Annie has a pony phaeton +that is quite stylish," said Mary, laughingly, as they entered the old +vehicle, "but it is only for town use; this is mine and papa's!" + +"Certainly roomy and safe," he said. She laughed outright. + +"I will remember that; so many people have tried to say something +comforting about my turnout and failed; but it does well enough." They +were off then, Edward driving awkwardly. It was the first time he had +ever drawn the reins over a mule. + +"How do you make it go fast?" he asked, finally, in despair. + +"Oh, dear," she answered, "we don't try. We know the mule." Her laugh +was infectious. + +They traveled the public roads, with their borders of wild grape, +crossed gurgling streams under festoons of vines and lingered in shady +vistas of overhanging boughs. Several times they boldly entered private +grounds and passed through back yards without hailing, and at last they +came to their destination. + +There were two huge stone posts at the entrance, with carved balls of +granite upon them. A thick tangle of muscadine and Cherokee roses led +off from them right and left, hiding the trail of the long-vanished rail +fence. In front was an avenue of twisted cedars, and, closing the +perspective, a glimpse of white columns and green blinds. + +The girl's face was lighted with smiles; it was for her a new +experience, this journeying with a man alone; his voice melodious in her +hearing; his eyes exchanging with hers quick understandings, for Edward +was happy that morning--happy in his forgetfulness. He had thrown off +the weight of misery successfully, and for the first time in his life +there was really a smile in his heart. It was the dream of an hour; he +would not mar it. Her voice recalled him. + +"I have always loved 'The Cedars.' It wears such an air of gentility and +refinement. It must be that something of the lives gone by clings to +these old places." + +"Whose is it?" She turned in surprise. + +"Oh, this is where we were bound--Gen. Evan's. I have a note for him." + +"Ah!" The exclamation was one of awe rather than wonder. She saw him +start violently and grow pale. "Evan?" he said, with emotion. + +"You know him?" + +"Not I." He felt her questioning gaze and looked into her face. "That +is, I have been introduced to him, only, and I have heard him speak." +After a moment's reflection: "Sometime, perhaps, I shall tell you why +for the moment I was startled." She could not understand his manner. +Fortunately they had arrived at the house. Confused still, he followed +her up the broad steps to the veranda and saw her lift the antique +knocker. + +"Yes, ma'am, de general's home; walk in, ma'am; find him right back in +the liberry." With that delightful lack of formality common among +intimate neighbors in the south, Mary led the way in. She made a pretty +picture as she paused at the door. The sun was shining through the +painted window and suffused her form with roseate light. + +"May I come in?" + +"Well! Well! Well!" The old man rose with a great show of welcome and +came forward. "'May I come in?' How d'ye do, Mary, God bless you, child; +yes, come clear in," he said, laughing, and bestowed a kiss upon her +lips. At that moment he caught sight of the face of Edward, who stood +behind her, pale from the stream of light that came from a white crest +in the window. The two men gazed steadily into each other's eyes a +moment only. The girl began: + +"This is Mr. Morgan, general, who has been such a friend to father." + +The rugged face of the old soldier lighted up, he took the young man's +hands in both of his and pressed them warmly. + +"I have already met Mr. Morgan. The friend of my friend is welcome to +'The Cedars'." He turned to move chairs for them. + +The face of the young man grew white as he bowed gravely. There had been +a recognition, but no voice spoke from the far-away past through his +lineaments to that lonely old man. During the visit he was distrait and +embarrassed. The courtly attention of his host and his playful gallantry +with Mary awoke no smile upon his lips. Somewhere a barrier had fallen +and the waters of memory had rushed in. Finally he was forced to arouse +himself. + +"John Morgan was a warm friend of mine at one time," said the old +general. "How was he related to you?" + +"Distantly," said Edward quietly. "I was an orphan, and indebted to him +for everything." + +"An eccentric man, but John had a good heart--errors like the rest of +us, of course." The general's face grew sad for the moment, but he +rallied and turned the conversation to the political campaign. + +"A grand speech that, Mr. Morgan; I have never heard a finer, and I have +great speakers in my day! Our district will be well and honorably +represented in Congress. Now, our little friend here will go to +Washington and get her name into the papers." + +"No, indeed. If papa wins I am going to stay with mamma. I am going to +be her eyes as well as her hands. Mamma would not like the city." + +"And how is the little mamma?" + +She shook her head. "Not so well and her eyes trouble her very much." + +"What a sweet woman she is! I can never forget the night Norton led her +to the altar. I have never seen a fairer sight--until now," he +interpolated, smiling and saluting Mary with formal bow. "She had a +perfect figure and her walk was the exposition of grace." Mary surveyed +him with swimming eyes. She went up and kissed him lightly. He detained +her a moment when about to take her departure. + +"You are a fortunate man, Morgan. In all the world you will find no +rarer flower than this. I envy you your ride home. Come again, Mary, and +bring Mr. Morgan with you." She broke loose from him and darted off in +confusion. He had guessed her secret and well was it that he had! + +The ride home was as a dream. The girl was excited and full of life and +banter and Edward, throwing off his sadness, had entered into the hour +of happiness with the same abandon that marked his campaign with Norton. + +But as they entered the long stretch of wood through which their road +ran to her home, Edward brought back the conversation to the general. + +"Yes," said Mary, "he lives quite alone, a widower, but beloved by every +one. It is an old, sad story, but his daughter eloped just before the +war broke out and went abroad. He has never heard from her, it is +supposed." + +"I have heard the fact mentioned," said Morgan, "and also that she was +to have married my relative." + +"I did not know that," she said, "but it is a great sorrow to the +general, and a girl who could give up such a man must have been wrong at +heart or infatuated." + +"Infatuated, let us hope." + +"That is the best explanation," she said gently. + +He was driving; in a few moments he would arrive at the house. Should he +tell her the history of Gerald and let her clear, honest mind guide him? +Should he tell her that Fate had made him the custodian of the only +being in the world who had a right to that honorable name when the +veteran back yonder found his last camp and crossed the river to rest in +the shade with the immortal Jackson? He turned to her and she met his +earnest gaze with a winning smile, but at the moment something in his +life cried out. The secret was as much his duty as the ward himself and +to confess to her his belief that Gerald was the son of Marion Evan was +to confess to himself that he was the son of the octoroon. He would not. +Her smile died away before the misery in his face. + +"You are ill," she said in quick sympathy. + +"Yes," he replied, faintly; "yes and no. The loss of +sleep--excitement--your southern sun----" The world grew black and he +felt himself falling. In the last moment of his consciousness he +remembered that her arm was thrown about him and that in response to her +call for help negroes from the cotton fields came running. + +He opened his eyes. They rested upon the chintz curtains of the room +upstairs, from the window of which he had heard her voice calling the +chickens. Some one was bathing his forehead; there were figures gliding +here and there across his vision. He turned his eyes and saw the anxious +face of Mrs. Montjoy watching him. + +"What is it?" He spoke in wonder. + +"Hush, now, my boy; you have been very ill; you must not talk!" He tried +to lift his hand. It seemed made of lead and not connected with him in +any way. Gazing helplessly upon it, he saw that it was thin and +white--the hand of an invalid. + +"How long?" he asked, after a rest. The slight effort took his strength. + +"Three weeks." Three weeks! This was more than he could adjust in the +few working sections of his brain. He ceased to try and closed his eyes +in sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +BEYOND THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT. + + +It had been brain fever. For ten days Edward was helpless, but under the +care of the two loving women he rapidly recovered. The time came when he +could sit in the cool of the evening upon the veranda and listen to the +voices he had learned to love--for he no longer disguised the truth from +himself. The world held for him but one dream, through it and in the +spell of his first home life the mother became a being to be reverenced. +She was the fulfilled promise of the girl, all the tender experiences of +life were pictured in advance for him who should win her hand and heart. + +But it was only a dream. During the long hours of the night as he lay +wakeful, with no escape from himself, he thought out the situation and +made up his mind to action. He would go to Col. Montjoy and confess the +ignorance of his origin that overwhelmed him and then he would provide +for his ward and go away with Virdow to the old world and the old life. + +The mental conclusion of his plan was a species of settlement. It helped +him. Time and again he cried out, when the remembrance came back to him, +but it was the honorable course and he would follow it. He would go +away. + +The hours of his convalescence were the respite he allowed himself. Day +by day he said: "I will go to-morrow." In the morning it was still +"to-morrow." And when he finally made his announcement he was promptly +overruled. Col. Montjoy and Norton were away, speaking and campaigning. +All primaries had been held but two. The colonel's enemies had conceded +to him of the remaining counties the remote one. The other was a county +with a large population and cast four votes in the convention. It was +the home of Swearingen, but, as frequently happens, it was the scene of +the candidate's greatest weakness. There the struggle was to be titanic. +Both counties were needed to nominate Montjoy. + +The election took place on the day of Edward's departure for Ilexhurst. +That evening he saw a telegram announcing that the large county had +given its vote to Montjoy by a small majority. The remote county had but +one telegraph office, and that at a way station upon its border. Little +could be heard from it, but the public conceded Col. Montjoy's +nomination, since there had been no doubt as to this county. Edward +hired a horse, put a man upon it, sent the news to the two ladies and +then went to his home. + +He found awaiting him two letters of importance. One from Virdow, saying +he would sail from Havre on the 25th; that was twelve days previous. He +was therefore really due at Ilexhurst then. The other was a letter he +had written to Abingdon soon after his first arrival, and was marked +"returned to writer." He wondered at this. The address was the same he +had used for years in his correspondence. Although Abingdon was +frequently absent from England, the letters had always reached him. Why, +then, was this one not forwarded? He put it aside and ascertained that +Virdow had not arrived at the house. + +It was then 8 o'clock in the evening. By his order a telephone had been +placed in the house, and he at once rang up the several hotels. Virdow +was found to be at one of these, and he succeeded in getting that +distinguished gentleman to connect himself with the American invention +and explained to him the situation. + +"Take any hack and come at once," was the message that concluded their +conversation, and Virdow came! In the impulsive continental style, he +threw himself into Edward's arms when the latter opened the door of the +carriage. + +Slender, his thin black clothes hanging awkwardly upon him, his trousers +too short, the breadth of his round German face, the knobs on his +shining bald forehead exaggerated by the puffy gathering of the hair +over his ears, his candid little eyes shining through the round, +double-power glasses, his was a figure one had to know for a long time +in order to look upon it without smiling. + +Long the two sat with their cigars and ran over the old days together. +Then the professor told of wondrous experiments in sound, of the advance +knowledge into the regions of psychology, of the marvels of heredity. +His old great theme was still his ruling passion. "If the mind has no +memory, then much of the phenomena of life is worse than bewildering. +Prove its memory," he was wont to say, "and I will prove immortality +through that memory." + +It was the same old professor. He was up now and every muscle working as +he struggled and gesticulated, and wrote invisible hieroglyphics in the +air about him and made geometrical figures with palms and fingers. But +the professor had advanced in speculation. + +"The time will come, my young friend," he said at last, "when the mind +will give us its memories complete. We shall learn the secrets of +creation by memory. In its perfection we shall place a man yonder and by +vibration get his mind memory to work; theoretically he will first write +of his father and then his grandfather, describing their mental lives. +He will go back along the lines of his ancestry. He will get into Latin, +then Greek, then Hebrew, then Chaldean, then into cuneiform +inscriptions, then into figure representation. He will be an artist or +musician or sculptor, and possibly all if the back trail of his memory +crosses such talents. Aye," he continued, enthusiastically, "lost +nations will live again. The portraits of our ancestors will hang in +view along the corridors of all times! This will come by vibratory +force, but how?" + +Edward leaned forward, breathless almost with emotion. + +"You say the time is come; what has been done?" + +"Little and much! The experiments----" + +"Tell me, in all your experiments, have you known where a child, +separated from a parent since infancy, without aid of description, or +photograph, or information derived from a living person, could see in +memory or imagination the face of that parent, see it with such +distinctness as to enable him, an artist, to reproduce it in all +perfection?" + +The professor wiped his glasses nervously and kept his gaze upon his +questioner. + +"Never." + +"Then," said Edward, "you have crossed the ocean to some purpose! I have +known such an instance here in this house. The person is still here! You +know me, my friend, and you do not know me. To you I was a rich young +American, with a turn for science and speculation. You made me your +friend and God bless you for it, but you did not know all of that +mystery which hangs over my life never to be revealed perhaps until the +millennium of science you have outlined dawns upon us. The man who +educated me, who enriched me, was not my parent or relative; he was my +guardian. He has made me the guardian of a frail, sickly lad whose +mystery is, or was, as complete as mine. Teach us to remember." The +words burst from him. They held the pent-up flood that had almost +wrecked his brain. + +Rapidly he recounted the situation, leaving out the woman's story as to +himself. Not to his Savior would he confess that. + +And then he told how, following his preceptor's hints about vibration, +he had accidentally thrown Gerald into a trance; its results, the second +experiment, the drawing and the woman's story of Gerald's birth. + +During this recital the professor never moved his eyes from the +speaker's face. + +"You wish to know what I think of it? This: I have but recently ventured +the proposition publicly that all ideal faces on the artist's canvas are +mind memories. Prove to me anew your results and if I establish the +reasonableness of my theory I shall have accomplished enough to die on." + +"In your opinion, then, this picture that Gerald drew is a mind memory?" + +"Undoubtedly. But you will perceive that the more distant, the older the +experience, we may say, the less likelihood of accuracy." + +"It would depend, then, you think, upon the clearness of the original +impression?" + +"That is true! The vividness of an old impression may also outshine a +new one." + +"And if this young man recalls the face of a woman, who we believe it +possible--nay, probable--is his mother, and then the face of one we know +to be her father, as a reasonable man, would you consider the story of +this negro woman substantiated beyond the shadow of a doubt?" + +"Beyond the shadow of a doubt." + +"We shall try," said Edward, and then, after a moment's silence: "He is +shy of strangers and you may find it difficult to get acquainted with +him. After you have succeeded in gaining his confidence we shall settle +upon a way to proceed. One word more, he is a victim of morphia. Did I +tell you that?" + +"No, but I guessed it." + +"You have known such men before, then?" + +"I have studied the proposition that opium may be a power to effect what +we seek, and, in connection with it, have studied the hospitals that +make a specialty of such cases." + +There was a long silence, and presently Edward said: + +"Will you say good-night now?" + +"Good-night." The professor gazed about him. "How was it you used to say +good-night, Edward? Old customs are good. It is not possible that the +violin has been lost." He smiled and Edward got his instrument and +played. He knew the old man's favorites; the little folk-melodies of the +Rhine country, bits of love songs, mostly, around which the loving +players of Germany have woven so many beautiful fancies. And in the +playing Edward himself was quieted. + +The light from the hall downstairs streamed out along the gravel walk, +and in the glare was a man standing with arms folded and head bent +forward. A tall woman came and gently laid her hand upon him. He started +violently, tossed his arms aloft and rushed into the darkness. She +waited in silence a moment and then slowly followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +"IF I MEET THE MAN!" + + +When Edward opened the morning paper, which he did while waiting for the +return of the professor, who had wandered away before breakfast, he was +shocked by the announcement of Montjoy's defeat. The result of the vote +in the remote county had been secured by horseback service organized by +an enterprising journal, and telegraphed. The official returns were +given. + +Already the campaign had drifted far into the past with him; years +seemed to have gone by when he arose from the sick-bed and now it +scarcely seemed possible that he, Edward Morgan, was the same man who +labored among the voters, shouted himself hoarse and kept the +headquarters so successfully. It must have been a dream. + +But Mary! That part was real. He wrote her a few lines expressing his +grief. + +And then came the professor, with his adventure! He had met a young man +out making photographs and had interested him with descriptions of +recent successful attempts to photograph in colors. And then they had +gone to the wing-room and examined the results of the young man's +efforts to produce pictures upon living substances. "He has some of the +most original theories and ideas upon the subject I have heard," said +the German. "Not wild beyond the possibilities of invention, however, +and I am not sure but that he has taught me a lesson in common sense. +'Find how nature photographs upon living tissue,' said the young man, +'and when you have reduced your pictures to the invisible learn to +re-enlarge them; perhaps you will learn to enlarge nature's invisibles.' + +"He has discovered that the convolutions of the human brain resemble an +embryo infant and that the new map which indicates the nerve lines +centering in the brain from different parts of the body shows them +entering the corresponding parts of the embryo. He lingers upon the +startling idea that the nerve is a formative organ, and that by +sensations conveyed, and by impressions, it actually shapes the brain. +When sensations are identical and persistent they establish a family +form. The brain is a bas-relief composite picture, shaped by all the +nerves. Theoretically a man's brain carefully removed, photographed and +enlarged ought to show the outlines of a family form, with all the +modifications. + +"You will perceive that he is working along hereditary lines and not +psychologic. And I am not sure but that in this he is pursuing the +wisest course, heredity being the primer." + +"You believe he has made a new discovery, then?" + +"As to that, no. The speculative mind is tolerant. It accepts nothing +that is not proven; it rejects nothing that has not been disproved. The +original ideas in most discoveries in their crude forms were not less +wild than this. All men who observe are friends of science." + +The incident pleased Edward. To bring the professor and Gerald together +he had feared would be difficult. Chance and the professor's tact had +already accomplished this successfully. + +"I shall leave you and Gerald to get thoroughly acquainted. When you +have learned him you can study him best. I have business of importance." + +He at once went to the city and posted his letter. Norton's leave had +been exhausted and he had already departed for New York. + +At the club and at the almost forsaken headquarters of the Montjoy party +all was consternation and regret. The fatal overconfidence in the +backwoods county was settled upon as the cause of the disaster. And yet +why should that county have failed them? Two companies of Evan's old +brigade were recruited there; he had been assured by almost every +prominent man in the county of its vote. And then came the crushing +blow. + +The morning paper had wired for special reports and full particulars, +and at 12 o'clock an extra was being cried upon the streets. Everybody +bought the paper; the street cars, the hotels, the clubs, the street +corners, were thronged with people eagerly reading the announcement. +Under triple head lines, which contained the words "Fraud" and "Slander" +and "Treachery," came this article, which Edward read on the street: + + "The cause of the fatal slump-off of Col. Montjoy's friends in + this county was a letter placed in circulation here yesterday + and industriously spread to the remotest voting places. It was + a letter from Mr. Amos Royson to the Hon. Thomas Brown of this + county. Your correspondent has secured and herewith sends a + copy: + + "'My Dear Sir: In view of the election about to be held in your + county, I beg to submit the following facts: Against the honor + and integrity of Col. Montjoy nothing can be urged, but it is + known here so positively that I do not hesitate to state, and + authorize you to use it, that the whole Montjoy movement is in + reality based upon an effort to crush Swearingen for his + opposition to certain corporation measures in congress, and + which by reason of his position on certain committees, he + threatens with defeat! To this end money has been sent here and + is being lavishly expended by a tool of the corporation. Added + to this fact that the man chosen for the business is one + calling himself Edward Morgan, the natural son of a late + eccentric bachelor lawyer of this city. The mother of this man + is an octoroon, who now resides with him at his home in the + suburbs. It is certain that these facts are not known to the + people who have him in tow, but they are easy of substantiation + when necessary. We look to you and your county to save the + district. We were "done up" here before we were armed with this + information. Respectfully yours, + + 'Amos Royson.' + +"Thousands of these circulars were printed and yesterday put in the +hands of every voter. Col. Montjoy's friends were taken by surprise and +their enthusiasm chilled. Many failed to vote and the county was lost by +twenty-three majority. Intense excitement prevails here among the +survivors of Evan's brigade, who feel themselves compromised." + +Then followed an editorial denouncing the outrage and demanding proofs. +It ended by stating that the limited time prevented the presentation of +interviews with Royson and Morgan, neither of whom could be reached by +telephone after the news was received. + +There are moments when the very excess of danger calms. Half the letter, +the political lie alone, would have enraged Edward beyond expression. He +could not realize nor give expression. The attack upon his blood was too +fierce an assault. In fact, he was stunned. He looked up to find himself +in front of the office of Ellison Eldridge. Turning abruptly he ascended +the steps; the lawyer was reading the article as he appeared, but would +have laid aside the paper. + +"Finish," said Edward, curtly; "it is upon that publication I have come +to advise with you." He stood at the window while the other read, and +there as he waited a realization of the enormity of the blow, its +cowardliness, its cruelty, grew upon him slowly. He had never +contemplated publicity; he had looked forward to a life abroad, with +this wearing mystery forever gnawing at his heart, but publication and +the details and the apparent truth! It was horrible! And to disprove +it--how? The minutes passed! Would the man behind him never finish what +he himself had devoured in three minutes? He looked back; Eldridge was +gazing over the paper into space, his face wearing an expression of +profound melancholy. He had uttered no word of denunciation; he was +evidently not even surprised. + +"My God," exclaimed Edward, excitedly; "you believe it--you believe it!" +Seizing the paper, he dashed from the room, threw himself into a hack +and gave the order for home. + +And half an hour after he was gone the lawyer sat as he left him, +thinking. + +Edward found a reporter awaiting him. + +"You have the extra, I see, Mr. Morgan," said he; "may I ask what you +will reply to it?" + +"Nothing!" thundered the desperate man. + +"Will you not say it is false?" + +Edward went up to him. "Young man, there are moments when it is +dangerous to question people. This is one of them!" He opened the door +and stood waiting. Something in his face induced the newspaper man to +take his leave. He said as he departed: "If you write a card we shall be +glad to publish it." The sound of the closing door was the answer he +received. + +Alone and locked in his room, Edward read the devilish letter over and +over, until every word of it was seared into his brain forever. It could +not be denied that more than once in his life the possibility of his +being the son of John Morgan had suggested itself to his mind, but he +had invariably dismissed it. Now it came back to him with the force +almost of conviction. Had the truth been stated at last? It was the only +explanation that fitted the full circumstances of his life--and it +fitted them all. It was true and known to be true by at least one other. +Eldridge's legal mind, prejudiced in his favor by years of association +with his benefactor, had been at once convinced; and if the statement +made so positively carried conviction to Eldridge himself, to his legal +friend, how would the great sensational public receive it? + +It was done, and the result was to be absolute and eternal ruin for +Edward Morgan. Such was the conclusion forced upon him. + +Then there arose in mind the face of the one girl he remembered. He +thought of the effect of the blow upon her. He had been her guest, her +associate. The family had received him with open arms. They must share +the odium of his disgrace, and for him now what course was left? Flight! +To turn his back upon all the trouble and go to his old life, and let +the matter die out! + +And then came another thought. Could any one prove the charge? + +He was in the dark; the cards were held with their backs to him. Suppose +he should bring suit for libel, what could he offer? His witness had +already spoken and her words substantiated the charge against him. Not a +witness, not a scrap of paper, was to be had in his defense. A libel +suit would be the rivet in his irons and he would face the public, +perhaps for days, and be openly the subject of discussion. It was +impossible, but he could fight. + +The thought thrilled him to the heart. She should see that he was a man! +He would not deal with slander suits, with newspapers; he would make the +scoundrel eat his words or he would silence his mouth forever. The man +soul was stirred; he no longer felt the humiliation that had rendered +him incapable of thought. The truth of the story was not the issue; the +injury was its use, false or true. He strode into Gerald's room and +broke into the experiments of the scientists, already close friends. + +"You have weapons here. Lend me one; the American uses the revolver, I +believe?" + +Gerald looked at him in astonishment, but he was interested. + +"Here is one; can you shoot?" + +"Badly; the small sword is my weapon." + +"Then let me teach you." Gerald was a boy now; weapons had been his +hobby years before. + +"Wait, let me fix a target!" He brushed a chalk drawing from a +blackboard at the end of the room and stood, crayon in hand. "What would +you prefer to shoot at, a tree, a figure----" + +"A figure!" + +Gerald rapidly sketched the outlines of a man with white shirt front and +stepped aside. Five times the man with the weapon sighted and fired. The +figure was not touched. Gerald was delighted. He ran up, took the pistol +and reloaded it and fired twice in succession. Two spots appeared upon +the shirt front; they were just where the lower and center shirt studs +would have been. + +"You are an artist, I believe," he said to Edward. + +The latter bowed his head. "Now, professor, I will show you one of the +most curious experiments in physics, the one that explains the chance +stroke of billiards done upon the spur of the moment; the one rifle shot +of a man's life, and the accurately thrown stone. Stand here," he said +to Edward, "and follow my directions closely. Remember, you are a +draftsman and are going to outline that figure on the board. Draw it +quickly with your pistol for a pen, and just as if you were touching the +board. Say when you have finished and don't lower the pistol." Edward +drew as directed. + +"It is done," he said. + +"You have not added the upper stud. Fire!" + +An explosion followed; a spot appeared just over the heart. + +"See!" shouted Gerald; "a perfect aim; the pistol was on the stud when +he fired, but beginners always pull the muzzle to the right, and let the +barrel fly up. The secret is this, professor," he continued, taking a +pencil and beginning to draw, "the concentration of attention is so +perfect that the hand is a part of the eye. An artist who shoots will +shoot as he draws, well or badly. Now, no man drawing that figure will +measure to see where the stud should be; he would simply put the chalk +spot in the right place." + +Edward heard no more; loading the pistol he had departed. "If I meet the +man!" he said to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +HOW THE CHALLENGE WAS WRITTEN. + + +The search for Royson was unavailing. His determined pursuer tried his +office door; it was locked. He walked every business street, entered +every restaurant and billiard saloon, every hotel lobby. The politician +was not to be found. He himself attracted wide-spread attention wherever +he went. Had he met Royson he would have killed him without a word, but +as he walked he did a great deal of thinking. He had no friend in the +city. The nature of this attack was such that few people would care to +second him. The younger Montjoy was away and he was unwilling to set +foot in the colonel's house again. Through him, Edward Morgan, however +innocently it may be, had come the fatal blow. + +He ran over the list of acquaintances he had formed among the younger +men. They were not such as pleased him in this issue, for a strong, +clear head, a man of good judgment and good balance, a determined man, +was needed. + +Then there came to his memory the face of one whom he had met at supper +his first night in town--the quiet, dignified Barksdale. He sought this +man's office. Barksdale was the organizer of a great railroad in process +of construction. His reception of Edward was no more nor less than would +have been accorded under ordinary circumstances. Had he come on the day +before he would have been greeted as then. + +"How do you do, Mr. Morgan? Be seated, sir." This with a wave of his +hand. Then, "What can I do for you?" His manner affected Edward in the +best way; he began to feel the business atmosphere. + +"I have called, Mr. Barksdale, upon a personal matter and to ask your +assistance. I suppose you have read to-day's extra?" + +"I have." + +"My first inclination, after fully weighing the intent and effect of +that famous publication," said Edward, "was to seek and kill the author. +For this purpose I have searched the town. Royson is not to be found. I +am so nearly a stranger here that I am forced to come to my +acquaintances for assistance, and now I ask that you will advise me as +to my next proceeding." + +"Demand a retraction and apology at once!" + +"And if it is refused?" + +"Challenge him!" + +"If he refuses to fight?" + +"Punish him. That is all you can do." + +"Will you make the demand for me--will you act for me?" + +Barksdale reflected a moment and then said: "Do not misunderstand my +hesitation; it is not based upon the publication, nor upon unwillingness +to serve you. I am considering the complications which may involve +others; I must, in fact, consult others before I can reply. In the +meantime will you be guided by me?" + +"I will." + +"You are armed and contemplating a very unwise act. Leave your weapon +here and take a hack home and remain there until I call. It is now 3:30 +o'clock. I will be there at 8. If I do not act for you I will suggest a +friend, for this matter should not lie over-night. But under no +circumstances can I go upon the field; my position here involves +interests covering many hundreds of thousands of invested funds, which I +have induced. Dueling is clearly out of vogue in this country and +clearly illegal. For the president of a railroad to go publicly into a +duel and deliberately break the law would lessen public confidence in +the north in both him and his business character and affect the future +of his enterprise, the value of its stocks and bonds. You admit the +reasonableness of this, do you not?" + +"I do. There is my weapon! I will expect you at 8. Good evening, Mr. +Barksdale." + +The hours wore slowly away at home. Edward studied his features in the +cheval glass; he could not find in them the slightest resemblance to the +woman in the picture. He had not erred in that. The absence of any +portrait of John Morgan prevented his making a comparison there. He knew +from descriptions given by Eldridge that he was not very like him in +form or in any way that he could imagine, but family likeness is an +elusive fact. Two people will resemble each other, although they may +differ in features taken in detail. + +He went to Gerald's room, moved by a sudden impulse. Gerald was +demonstrating one of his theories concerning mind pictures and found in +the professor a smiling and tolerant listener. + +He was saying: "Now, let us suppose that from youth up a child has +looked into its mother's face, felt her touch, heard her voice; that his +senses carried to that forming brain their sensations, each nerve +touching the brain, and with minute force setting up day by day, month +by month, and year by year a model. Yes, go back further and remember +that this was going on before the child was a distinct individual; we +have the creative force in both stages! Tell me, is it impossible then +that this little brain shall grow into the likeness it carries as its +most serious impression, and that forced to the effort would on canvas +or in its posterity produce the picture it has made----" + +"How can you distinguish the mind picture from the memory picture? What +is the difference?" + +"Not easily, but if I can produce a face which comes to me in my dreams, +which haunts my waking hours, which is with me always, the face of one I +have never seen, it must come to me as a mind picture; and if that +picture is the feminine of my own, have I not reason to believe that it +stands for the creative power from which I sprang? Such a picture as +this." + +He drew a little curtain aside and on the wall shone the fair face of a +woman; the face from the church sketch, but robbed of its terror, the +counterpart of the little painting upstairs. The professor looked grave, +but Edward gazed on it in awe. + +"Now a simple brain picture," he said, almost in a whisper; "draw me the +face of John Morgan." + +The artist made not more than twenty strokes of the crayon upon the +blackboard. + +"Such is John Morgan, as I last saw him," said Gerald; "a mere +photograph; a brain picture!" + +Edward gazed from one to the other; from the picture to the artist +astounded. The professor had put on his glasses; it was he who broke the +silence. + +"That is Herr Abingdon," he said. Gerald smiled and said: + +"That is John Morgan." + +Without a word Edward left the room. Under an assumed name, deterred +from open recognition by the sad facts of the son's birth, his father +had watched over and cherished him. No wonder the letter had come back. +Abingdon was dead! + +The front door was open. He plunged directly into the arms of Barksdale +as he sought the open air. Barksdale was one of those men who seem to be +without sentiment, because they have been trained by circumstances to +look at facts from a business standpoint only. Yet the basis of his +whole life was sentiment. + +In the difficulty that had arisen his quick mind grasped at once the +situation. He knew Royson and was sure that he shielded himself behind +some collateral fact, not behind the main truth. In the first place he +was hardly in position to know anything of Morgan's history more than +the general public would have known. In the second, he would not have +dared to use it under any circumstances if those circumstances did not +protect him. What were these? First there was Morgan's isolation; only +one family could be said to be intimate with him, and they could not, on +account of the younger Montjoy, act for Edward. The single controlling +idea that thrust itself into Barksdale's mind was the proposition that +Royson did not intend to fight. + +Then the position of the Montjoy family flashed upon him. The blow had +been delivered to crush the colonel politically and upon a man who was +his unselfish ally. Owing to the nature of the attack Col. Montjoy could +ask no favors of Royson, and owing to the relationship, he could not +proceed against him in Morgan's interest. He could neither act for nor +advise, and in the absence of Col. Montjoy, who else could be found? + +Before replying to Edward, a plan of action occurred to him. When he +sent that excited individual home he went direct to Royson's office. He +found the door open and that gentleman serenely engaged in writing. Even +at this point he was not deceived; he knew that his approach had been +seen, as had Edward's, and preparations made accordingly. + +Royson had been city attorney and in reality the tool of a ring. His +ambition was boundless. Through friends he had broached a subject very +dear to him; he desired to become counsel for the large corporations +that Barksdale represented, and there was a surprised satisfaction in +his tones as he welcomed the railroad president and gave him a seat. + +Barksdale opened the conversation on this line and asked for a written +opinion upon a claim of liability in a recent accident. He went further +and stated that perhaps later Royson might be relied upon frequently in +such cases. The town was talking of nothing else at that time but the +Royson card. It was natural that Barksdale should refer to it. + +"A very stiff communication, that of yours, about Mr. Morgan," he said, +carelessly; "it will probably be fortunate for you if your informant is +not mistaken." + +"There is no mistake," said Royson, leaning back in his chair, glad that +the subject had been brought up. "It does seem a rough card to write, +but I have reason to think there was no better way out of a very ugly +complication." + +"The name of your informant will be demanded, of course." + +"Yes, but I shall not give it!" + +"Then will come a challenge." + +"Hardly!" Royson arose and closed the door. "If you have a few moments +and do not mind hearing this, I will tell you in confidence the whole +business. Who would be sought to make a demand upon me for the name of +my informant?" + +"One of the Montjoys naturally, but your relationship barring them they +would perhaps find Mr. Morgan a second." + +"But suppose that I prove conclusively that the information came from a +member of the Montjoy family? What could they do? Under the +circumstances which have arisen their hands are tied. As a matter of +fact I am the only one that can protect them. If the matter came to that +point, as a last resort I could refuse to fight, for the reason given in +the letter." + +Barksdale was silent. The whole devilish plot flashed upon him. He knew +in advance the person described as a member of the Montjoy family, and +he knew the base motives of the man who at that moment was dishonoring +him with his confidence. His blood boiled within him. Cool and calm as +he was by nature, his face showed emotion as he arose and said: + +"I think I understand." + +Royson stood by the door, his hand upon the knob, after his visitor had +gone. + +"It was a mistake; a great mistake," he said to himself in a whisper. "I +have simply acted the fool!" + +Barksdale went straight to a friend upon whose judgment he relied and +laid the matter before him. Together they selected three of the most +honorable and prominent men in the city, friends of the Montjoys, and +submitted it to them. + +The main interest was now centered in saving the Montjoy family. Edward +had become secondary. An agreement was reached upon Barksdale's +suggestion and all was now complete unless the aggrieved party should +lose his case in the correspondence about to ensue. + +Barksdale disguised his surprise when he assisted Edward at the door to +recover equilibrium. + +"I am here sir, as I promised," he said, "but the complications extend +further than I knew. I now state that I cannot act for you in any +capacity and ask that I be relieved of my promise." Edward bowed +stiffly. + +"You are released." + +"There is but one man in this city who can serve you and bring about a +meeting. Gerald Morgan must bear your note!" Edward repeated the name. +He could not grasp the idea. "Gerald Morgan," said Barksdale again. "He +will not need to go on the field. Good-night. And if that fails you here +is your pistol; you are no longer under my guidance. But one word +more--my telephone is 280; if during the night or at any time I can +advise you, purely upon formal grounds, summon me. In the meantime see +to it that your note does not demand the name of Royson's informant. Do +not neglect that. The use he has made of his information must be made +the basis of the quarrel; if you neglect this your case is lost. +Good-night." + +The thought flashed into Edward's mind then that the world was against +him. This man was fearful of becoming responsible himself. He had named +Gerald. It was a bruised and slender reed, but he would lean upon it, +even if he crushed it in the use. He returned to the wing-room. + +"Professor," he said, "you know that under no possible circumstances +would I do you a discourtesy, so when I tell you, as now, that for +to-night and possibly a day, we are obliged to leave you alone, you will +understand that some vital matter lies at the bottom of it." + +"My young friend," exclaimed that gentleman, "go as long as you please. +I have a little world of my own, you know," he smiled cheerfully, "in +which I am always amused. Gerald has enlarged it. Go and come when you +can; here are books--what more does one need?" Edward bowed slightly. + +"Gerald, follow me." Gerald, without a word, laid aside his crayon and +obeyed. He stood in the library a moment later looking with tremulous +excitement upon the man who had summoned him so abruptly. By reflection +he was beginning to share the mental disturbance. His frail figure +quivered and he could not keep erect. + +"Read that!" said Edward, handing him the paper. He took the sheet and +read. When he finished he was no longer trembling, but to the +astonishment of Edward, very calm. A look of weariness rested upon his +face. + +"Have you killed him?" he asked, laying aside the paper, his mind at +once connecting the incident of the pistol with this one. + +"No, he is in hiding." + +"Have you challenged him?" + +"No! My God, can you not understand? I am without friends! The whole +city believes the story." A strange expression came upon the face of +Gerald. + +"We must challenge him at once," he said. "I am, of course, the proper +second. I must ask you in the first place to calm yourself. The records +must be perfect." He seated himself at a desk and prepared to write. +Edward was walking the room. He came and stood by his side. + +"Do not demand the name of his informant," he said; "make the +publication and circulation of the letter the cause of our grievance." + +"Of course," was the reply. The letter was written rapidly. "Sign it if +you please," said Gerald. Edward read the letter and noticed that it was +written smoothly and without a break. He signed it. Gerald had already +rung for the buggy and disappeared. "Wait here," he had said, "until I +return. In the meantime do not converse with anyone upon this subject." +The thought that flashed upon the mind of the man left in the +drawing-room was that the race courage had become dominant, and for the +time being was superior to ill-health, mental trouble and environment. +It was in itself a confirmation of the cruel letter. The manhood of +Albert Evan had become a factor in the drama. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +BROUGHT TO BAY. + + +Col. Montjoy was apprised of the unexpected result in the backwoods at +an early hour. He read the announcement quietly and went on his usual +morning ride undisturbed. Then through the family spread the news as the +other members made their appearance. + +Mrs. Montjoy said, gently: "All happens for the best. If Mr. Montjoy had +been elected he would have been exposed for years to the Washington +climate, and he is not very well at any time. He complained of his heart +several times last night." + +But Mary went off and had a good cry. She could not endure the thought +of the slightest affront to her stately father. She felt better after +her cry and kissed the old gentleman as he came in to breakfast. + +"I see you have all heard the news," he said, cheerily. "Well, it lifts +a load from me. I spent four very trying years up in the neighborhood of +Washington, and I am not well disposed toward the locality. I have done +my duty to the fullest extent in this matter. The people who know me +have given me an overwhelming indorsement, and I have been beaten only +by people who do not know me! Swearingen will doubtless make a good +representative, after all. I am sorry for Evan," he added, laughing. "It +will be news to him to find out that the old Fire-Eaters have been +worsted at last." He went to breakfast with his arms around wife and +daughter. "All the honors of public life cannot compensate a man for +separation from his home," he said, "and Providence knows it." + +Annie was silent and anxious. She made a feeble effort to sympathize +with the defeated, but with poor success. During the morning she started +at every sound and went frequently to the front door. She knew her +cousin, and something assured her that his hand was in this mischief. +How would it affect her? In her room she laughed triumphantly. + +"Vain fools!" she exclaimed; "let them stay where they belong!" In the +afternoon there was the sound of buggy wheels, and a servant brought to +the veranda, where they were sitting, a package. Adjusting his glasses, +the colonel opened it to find one of the extras. At the head of this was +written: "Thinking it probable that it may be important for this to +reach you to-day, and fearing it might not otherwise, I send it by +messenger in buggy. Use them as you desire." To this was signed the name +of a friend. + +Annie, who watched the colonel as he read, saw his face settle into +sternness, and then an expression of anxiety overspread it. "Anything +serious, Norton?" It was the voice of his wife, who sat knitting. + +"A matter connected with the election calls me to town," he said; "I +hope it will be the last time. I shall go in with the driver who brought +the note." He went inside and made his few arrangements and departed +hurriedly. After he was gone, Annie picked up the paper from the hall +table, where he had placed it, and read the fatal announcement. Although +frightened, she could scarcely conceal her exultation. Mary was passing; +she thrust the paper before her eyes and said: "Read that! So much for +entertaining strangers!" + +Mary read. The scene whirled about her, and but for the knowledge that +her suffering was bringing satisfaction to the woman before her she +would have fallen to the floor. She saw in the gleeful eyes, gleaming +upon her, something of the truth. With a desperate effort she restrained +herself and the furious words that had rushed to her lips, and laid +aside the paper with unutterable scorn and dignity. + +"The lie is too cheap to pass anywhere except in the backwoods," was all +she said. + +A smile curled the thin lips of the other as she witnessed the desperate +struggle of the girl. The voice of Col. Montjoy, who had returned to the +gate, was heard calling to Mary: + +"Daughter, bring the paper from the hall table." + +She carried it to him. Something in her pale face caused him to ask: +"Have you read it, daughter?" + +She nodded her head. He was instantly greatly concerned and began some +rambling explanation about campaign lies and political methods. But he +could not disguise the fact that he was shocked beyond expression. She +detained him but a moment. Oh, wonderful power of womanly intuition! + +"Father," she said faintly, "be careful what you do. The whole thing +originated back yonder," nodding her head toward the house. She had said +it, and now her eyes blazed defiance. He looked upon her in amazement, +not comprehending, but the matter grew clearer as he thought upon it. + +Arriving in the city he was prepared for anything. He went direct to +Royson's office, and that gentleman seeing him enter smiled. The visit +was expected and desired. He bowed formally, however, and moving a chair +forward locked the door. Darkness had just fallen, but the electric +light outside the window was sufficient for an interview; neither seemed +to care for more light. + +"Amos," said the old man, plunging into the heart of the subject, "you +have done a shameful and a cruel thing, and I have come to tell you so +and insist upon your righting the wrong. You know me too well to suspect +that personal reasons influence me in the least. As far as I am +concerned the wrong cannot be righted, and I would not purchase nor ask +a personal favor from you. The man you have insulted so grievously is a +stranger and has acted the part of a generous friend to those who, +although you may not value the connection, are closely bound to you. In +the name of God, how could you do it?" He was too full of indignation to +proceed, and he had need of coolness. + +The other did not move nor give the slightest evidence of feeling. He +had this advantage; the part he was acting had been carefully planned +and rehearsed. After a moment's hesitation, he said: + +"You should realize, Col. Montjoy, that I have acted only after a calm +deliberation, and the matter is not one to be discussed excitedly. I +cannot refuse to talk with you about it, but it is a cold-blooded matter +of policy only." The manner and tone of the speaker chilled the elder to +the heart. Royson continued: "As for myself and you--well, it was an +open, impersonal fight. You know my ambition; it was as laudable as +yours. I have worked for years to keep in the line of succession; I +could not be expected to sit silent and while losing my whole chance see +my friend defeated. All is fair in love and war--and politics. I have +used such weapons as came to my hand, and the last I used only when +defeat was certain." + +Controlling himself with great effort, Col. Montjoy said: + +"You certainly cannot expect the matter to end here!" + +"How can it proceed?" A slight smile lighted the lawyer's face. + +"A demand will be made upon you for your authority." + +"Who will make it--you?" + +A light dawned upon the elder. The cool insolence of the man was more +than he could endure. + +"Yes!" he exclaimed, rising. "As God is my judge, if he comes to me I +shall make the demand! Ingratitude was never charged against one of my +name. This man has done me a lasting favor; he shall not suffer for need +of a friend, if I have to sacrifice every connection in the world." + +Again the lawyer smiled. + +"I think it best to remember, colonel, that we can reach no sensible +conclusion without cool consideration. Let me ask you, then, for +information. If I should answer that the charges in my letter, so far as +Morgan's parentage is concerned, were based upon statements made by a +member of your immediate family, what would be your course?" + +"I should denounce you as a liar and make the quarrel my own." + +Royson grew pale, but made no reply. He walked to his desk, and taking +from it a letter passed it to the angry man. He lighted the gas, while +the colonel's trembling hands were arranging his glasses, and stood +silent, waiting. The note was in a feminine hand. Col. Montjoy read: + + "My Dear Amos: I have been thinking over the information I gave + you touching the base parentage of the man Morgan, and I am not + sure but that it should be suppressed so far as the public is + concerned, and brought home here in another way. The facts + cannot be easily proved, and the affair would create a great + scandal, in which I, as a member of this absurd family, would + be involved. You should not use it, at any rate, except as a + desperate measure, and then only upon the understanding that + you are to become responsible, and that I am in no way whatever + to be brought into the matter. Yours in haste, + + "Annie." + +The reader let the paper fall and covered his face with his hands a +moment. Then he arose with dignity. + +"I did not imagine, sir, that the human heart was capable of such +villainy as yours has developed. You have stabbed a defenseless stranger +in the back; have broken faith with a poor, jealous, weak woman, and +have outraged and humiliated me, to whom you are personally indebted +financially and otherwise. Unlock your door! I have but one honorable +course left. I shall publish a card in the morning's paper stating that +your letter was based upon statements made by a member of my family; +that they are untrue in every respect, and offer a public apology." + +"Will you name the informant?" + +"What is that to you, sir?" + +"A great deal! If you do name her, I shall reaffirm the truth of her +statements, as in the absence of her husband I am her nearest relative. +If you do not name her, then the public may guess wrong. I think you +will not do so rash a thing, colonel. Keep out of the matter. +Circumstances give you a natural right to hands off!" + +"And if I do!" exclaimed the old man, passionately, "who will act for +him?" The unpleasant smile returned to the young man's lips. + +"No one, I apprehend!" + +Montjoy could have killed him as he stood. He felt the ground slipping +from under him as he, too, realized the completeness and cowardliness of +the plot. + +"We shall see; we shall see!" he said, gasping and pressing his hand to +his heart. "We shall see, Mr. Royson! There is a just God who looks down +upon the acts of all men, and the right prevails!" + +Royson bowed mockingly but profoundly. + +"That is an old doctrine. You are going, and there is just one thing +left unsaid. At the risk of offending you yet more, I am going to say +it." + +"I warn you, then, to be careful; there is a limit to human endurance +and I have persistently ascribed to me the worst of motives in this +matter, but I have as much pride in my family as you in yours. There are +but few of us left. Will you concede that if there is danger, in her +opinion, that she will become the sister-in-law of this man, and that +she believed the information she has given to be true, will you concede +that her action is natural, if not wise, and that a little more +selfishness may after all be mixed in mine?" Gradually his meaning +dawned upon his hearer. For a second he was dumb. And all this was to be +public property! + +"I think," said Royson, coolly opening the door, "it will be well for +you to confer with friends before you proceed, and perhaps leave to +others the task of righting the wrongs of strangers who have taken +advantage of your hospitality to offer the deadliest insult possible in +this southern country. It may not be well to arm this man with the fact +that you vouch for him; he may answer you in the future." + +He drew back from the door suddenly, half in terror. A man, pale as +death itself, with hair curling down upon his shoulders, and eyes that +blazed under the face before him, whose eyes never for a moment left +his, broke the seal. Then he read aloud: + + "Mr. Amos Royson, I inclose for your inspection a clipping from + an extra issue this day, and ask if you are the author of the + letter it contains. If you answer yes, I hereby demand of you + an unconditional retraction of and apology for the same, for + publication in the paper which contained the original. This + will be handed to you by my friend, Gerald Morgan. + + "Edward Morgan." + +Royson recovered himself with evident difficulty. + +"This is not customary--he does not demand the name of my informant!" he +said. + +"We do not care a fig, sir, for your informant. The insult rests in the +use you have made of a lie, and we propose to hold you responsible for +it!" + +Gerald spoke the words like a sweet-voiced girl and returned the stare +of his opponent with insolent coolness. The colonel had paused, as he +perceived the completeness of the lawyer's entrapping. Amos could not +use his cousin's name before the public and the Montjoys were saved from +interference. He was cornered. The colonel passed out hurriedly with an +affectionate smile to Gerald, saying: + +"Excuse me, gentlemen; these are matters which you will probably wish to +discuss in private. Mr. Royson, I had friends wiser than myself at work +upon this matter, and I did not know it." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +IN THE HANDS OF THEIR FRIENDS. + + +It was not sunset when Col. Montjoy left home. Mary went to her room and +threw herself upon her bed, sick at heart and anxious beyond the power +of weeping. Unadvised, ignorant of the full significance of the +information that had been conveyed to them, she conjured up a world of +danger for her father and for Edward. Tragedy was in the air she +breathed. At supper she was laboring under ill-concealed excitement. +Fortunately for her, the little mother was not present. Sitting in her +room, with the green glasses to which she had been reduced by the +progress of her disease, she did not notice the expression of the +daughter's face when she came as usual to look after the final +arrangement of her mother's comfort. + +By 8 o'clock the house was quiet. Throwing a light wrap over her +shoulders and concealing in its folds her father's army pistol, Mary +slipped into the outer darkness and whistled softly. A great shaggy dog +came bounding around from the rear and leaped upon her. She rested her +hand on his collar, and together they passed into the avenue. Old Isam +stood there and by him the pony phaeton and mare. + +"Stay up until I return, please, Uncle Isam, and be sure to meet me +here!" The old man bowed. + +"I'll be hyar, missy," he said. "Don't you want me to go, too?" + +"No, thank you; I am going to Gen. Evan's and you must stay and look +after things. Nero will go with me." The dog had already leaped into the +vehicle. She sprang in also, and almost noiselessly they rolled away +over the pine straw. + +The old man listened; first he heard the dogs bark at Rich's then at +Manuel's and then at black Henry's, nearly a mile away. He shook his +head. + +"Missy got somep'n on her mind! She don't make no hoss move in de night +dat way for nothin'! Too fast! Too fast!" + +He went off to his cabin and sat outside to smoke. And in the night the +little mare sped away. On the public roads the gait was comparatively +safe, and she responded to every call nobly. The unbroken shadows of the +roadside glided like walls of gloom! The little vehicle rocked and +swayed, and, underneath, the wheels sang a monotonous warning rhyme. + +Now and then the little vehicle fairly leaped from the ground, for when +Norton, a year previous, had bid in that animal at a blooded-stock sale +in Kentucky, she was in her third summer and carried the blood of Wilkes +and Rysdyk's Hambletonian, and was proud of it, as her every motion +showed. + +The little mare had the long route that night, but at last she stood +before the doorway of the Cedars. The general was descending the steps +as Mary gave Nero the lines. + +"What! Mary--" + +He feared to ask the question on his lips. She was full of excitement, +and her first effort to speak was a dismal failure. + +"Come! Come! Come!" he said, in that descending scale of voice which +seems to have been made for sympathy and encouragment. "Calm yourself +first and talk later." He had his arms around her now and was ascending +the steps. "Sit right down here in this big chair; there you are!" + +"You have not heard, then?" she said, controlling herself with supreme +effort. + +"About your father's defeat? Oh, yes. But what of that? There are +defeats more glorious than victories, my child. You will find that your +father was taken advantage of." She buried her face in her hands. + +"It is not about that, sir--the means they used!" And then, between +sobs, she told him the whole story. He made no reply, no comment, but +reaching over to the rail secured his corn-cob pipe and filled it. As he +struck a match above the tobacco, she saw that his face was as calm as +the candid skies of June. The sight gave her courage. + +"Do you not think it awful?" she ventured. + +"Awful? Yes! A man to descend to such depths of meanness must have +suffered a great deal on the way. I am sorry for Royson--sorry, indeed!" + +"But Mr. Morgan!" she exclaimed, excitedly. + +"That must be attended to," he said, very gravely. "Mr. Morgan has +placed us all under heavy obligations, and we must see him through." + +"You must, General; you must, and right away! They have sent for poor +papa, and he has gone to town, and I--I--just could not sleep, so I came +to you." He laughed heartily. + +"And in a hurry! Whew! I heard the mare's feet as she crossed the bridge +a mile away. You did just right. And of course the old general is +expected to go to town and pull papa and Mr. Morgan out of the mud, and +straighten out things. John!" + +"Put the saddle on my horse at once. And now, how is the little mamma?" +he asked, gently. + +He held her on this subject until the horse was brought, and then they +rode off down the avenue, the general following and rallying the girl +upon her driving. + +"Don't expect me to hold to that pace," he said. "I once crossed a +bridge as fast, and faster, up in Virginia, but I was trying to beat the +bluecoats. Too old now, too old." + +"But you will get there in time?" she asked, anxiously. + +"Oh, yes; they will be consulting and sending notes and raising points +all night. I will get in somewhere along the line. When a man starts out +to hunt up trouble he is rarely ever too late to find it." He saw her +safely to where Isam was waiting, and then rode on to the city. He +realized the complication, and now his whole thought was to keep his +neighbor from doing anything rash. It did occur to him that there might +be a street tragedy, but he shook his head over this when he remembered +Royson. "He is too much of a schemer for that," he said. "He will get +the matter into the hands of a board of honor." The old gentleman +laughed softly to himself and touched up his horse. + +In the meantime affairs were drawing to a focus in the city. After the +abrupt departure of Gerald, Royson stood alone, holding the demand and +thinking. An anxious expression had settled upon his face. He read and +reread the curt note, but could find no flaw in it. He was to be held +responsible for the publication; that was the injury. He was forced to +confess that the idea was sound. There was now no way to involve the +Montjoys and let them hush it up. He had expected to be forced to +withdraw the card and apologize, but not until the whole city was +informed that he did it to save a woman, and he would have been placed +then in the position of one sacrificing himself. Now that such refuge +was impossible he could not even escape by giving the name of his +informant. He could not have given it had there been a demand. + +He read between the lines that his authority was known; that he was +dealing with some master mind and that he had been out-generaled +somewhere. To whom had he talked? To no one except Barksdale. He gave +vent to a profane estimate of himself and left the office. There was no +danger now of a street assault. + +Amos Royson threw himself into a carriage and went to the residence of +Marsden Thomas, dismissing the vehicle. The family of Marsden Thomas was +an old one, and by reason of its early reputation in politics and at the +bar had a sound and honorable footing. Marsden was himself a member of +the legislature, a born politician, capable of anything that would +advance his fortune, the limit only being the dead-line of disgrace. + +He had tied to Royson, who was slightly his elder, because of his +experience and influence. + +He was noted for his scrupulous regard for the code as a basis of +settlement between honorable men, and was generally consulted upon +points of honor. + +Secure in Thomas' room, Royson went over the events of the day, +including Montjoy's and Gerald's visits, and then produced the demand +that had been served upon him. + +Thomas had heard him through without interruption. When Royson described +the entrance of Gerald, with the unlooked-for note, a slight smile drew +his lips; he put aside the note, and said: + +"You are in a very serious scrape, Amos; I do not see how you can avoid +a fight." His visitor studied him intently. + +"You must help me out! I do not propose to fight." Thomas gravely +studied the note again. + +"Of course, you know the object of the publication," continued Royson; +"it was political. Without it we would have been beaten. It was a +desperate move; I had the information and used it." + +"You had information, then? I thought the whole thing was hatched up. +Who gave you the information?" Royson frowned. + +"My cousin, Mrs. Montjoy; you see the complication now. I supposed that +no one but the Montjoys knew this man intimately, and that their hands +would be tied!" + +"Ah!" The exclamation was eloquent. "And the young man had another +friend, the morphine-eater; you had forgotten him!" Thomas could not +restrain a laugh. Royson was furious. He seized his hat and made a feint +to depart. Thomas kindly asked him to remain. It would have been cruel +had he failed, for he knew that Royson had not the slightest intention +of leaving. + +"Come back and sit down, Amos. You do us all an injustice. You played +for the credit of this victory, contrary to our advice, and now you have +the hot end of the iron." + +"Tell me," said Royson, reverting to the note, "is there anything in +that communication that we can take advantage of?" + +"Nothing! Morgan might have asked in one note if you were the author of +the published letter and then in another have demanded a retraction. His +joining the two is not material; you do not deny the authorship." + +After a few moments of silence he continued: "There is one point I am +not satisfied upon. I am not sure but that you can refuse upon the +ground you alleged--in brief, because he is not a gentleman. Whether or +not the burden of proof would be upon you is an open question; I am +inclined to think it would be; a man is not called upon in the south to +prove his title to gentility. All southerners with whom we associate are +supposed to be gentlemen," and then he added, lazily smiling, "except +the ladies; and it is a pity they are exempt. Mrs. Montjoy would +otherwise be obliged to hold her tongue!" + +Royson was white with rage, but he did not speak. Secretly he was afraid +of Thomas, and it had occurred to him that in the event of his +humiliation or death Thomas would take his place. + +This unpleasant reflection was interrupted by the voice of his +companion. + +"Suppose we call in some of our friends and settle this point." The +affair was getting in the shape desired by Royson, and he eagerly +consented. Notes were at once dispatched to several well-known +gentlemen, and a short time afterward they were assembled and in earnest +conversation. It was evident that they disagreed. + +While this consultation was going on there was a knock at the door; a +servant brought a card. Gen. Evan had called to see Mr. Thomas, but +learning that he was engaged and how, had left the note. + +Thomas read it silently, and then aloud: + + "Marsden Thomas, Esq.--Dear Sir: I have read in to-day's paper + the painful announcement signed by Mr. Royson, and have come + into the city hoping that a serious difficulty might thereby be + averted. To assist in the settlement of this matter, I hereby + state over my own signature that the announcement concerning + Edward Morgan is erroneous, and I vouch for his right to the + title and privileges of a gentleman. + + "Respectfully, + + "Albert Evan." + +The silence that followed this was broken by one of the older gentlemen +present. + +"This simplifies matters very greatly," he said. "Without the clearest +and most positive proof, Mr. Royson must retract or fight." + +They took their departure at length, leaving Royson alone to gaze upon +the open note. Thomas, returning, found him in the act of drawing on his +gloves. + +"I am going," said Royson, "to send a message to Annie. She must, she +shall give me something to go on. I will not sit quietly by and be made +a sacrifice!" + +"Write your note; I will send it." + +"I prefer to attend to it myself!" Thomas shook his head. + +"If you leave this room to-night it is with the understanding that I am +no longer your adviser. Arrest by the police must not, shall not--" + +"Do you mean to insinuate--" + +"Nothing! But I shall take no chances with the name of Thomas!" said the +other proudly. "You are excited; a word let fall--a suspicion--and we +would be disgraced! Write your note; I shall send it. We have no time to +lose!" Royson threw himself down in front of a desk and wrote hurriedly: + + "Annie: I am cornered. For God's sake give me proofs of your + statements or tell me where to get them. It is life or death; + don't fail me. + + "A. R." + +He sealed and addressed this. Thomas rang the bell and to the boy he +said: "How far is it to Col. Montjoy's?" + +"Seven miles, sah!" + +"How quickly can you go there and back?" + +"On Pet?" + +"Yes." + +"One hour an' a half, sah." + +"Take this note, say you must see Mrs. Norton Montjoy, Jr., in person, +on important matters, and deliver it to her. Here is a $5 bill; if you +are back in two hours, you need not return it. Go!" + +There was a gleam of ivory teeth and the boy hurried away. It was a +wretched wait, that hour and a half. The answer to the demand must go +into the paper that night! + +One hour and thirty-two minutes passed. They heard the horse in the +street, then the boy upon the stairway. He dashed to the door. + +"Miss Mary was up and at de gate when I got deir! Reck'n she hear Pet's +hoof hit de hard groun' an' hit skeered her. I tole her what you say, +and she sen' word dat Mrs. Montjoy done gone to sleep. I tell her you +all mighty anxious for to get dat note; dat Mr. Royson up here, waitin', +an' gentlemen been comin' an' goin' all night. She took de note in den +and putty soon she bring back the answer!" + +He was searching his pockets as he rambled over his experience, and +presently the note was found. It was the same one that had been sent by +Royson, and across the back was written: + + "Mr. Thomas: I think it best not to awaken Annie. Papa is in + town; if the matter is of great importance call upon him. I am + so certain this is the proper course that it will be useless to + write again or call in person to-night. + + "Respectfully, + + "M. M." + +He passed the note to Royson in silence and saw the look of rage upon +his face as he tore it into a thousand pieces. + +"Even your little Montjoy girl seems to be against you," he said. + +"She is!" exclaimed Royson; "she knew that my note to Annie was not in +the interest of Edward Morgan, and she is fighting for him. She will +follow him to the altar or the grave!" + +"Ah," said Thomas, aside, drawing a long breath; "'tis the old story, +and I thought I had found a new plot! Well," he continued aloud, "what +next?" + +"It shall not be the altar! Conclude the arrangements; I am at your +service!" + +"He will stick," said Thomas to himself; "love and jealousy are stronger +then fear and ambition!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +"THE WITNESS IS DEAD." + + +In his room at the hotel Col. Montjoy awaited the return of his friend +Evan, who had gone to find out how, as he expressed it the boys were +getting on with their fight. + +"I will strike the trail somewhere," he said, lightly. But he was +greatly disturbed over Col. Montjoy's concern, and noticed at once the +bad physical effect it had on him. His policy was to make light of the +matter, but he knew it was serious. + +To force Royson to back down was now his object; in the event of that +failing, to see that Morgan had a fair show. + +The colonel had removed his shoes and coat and was lying on the bed when +Evan returned. "I think I have given them a basis of settlement," said +the general. "I have vouched for the fact that the statements in +Royson's letter are erroneous. Upon my declaration he can retract and +apologize, or he must fight. I found him consulting with Thomas and +others, and I took it for granted he was looking for some way to dodge." + +The colonel looked at him in surprise. "But how could you?" + +"Upon my faith in John Morgan! He was a man of honor! He would never +have left his property to this man and put him upon the community if +there had been a cloud upon his title to gentility," and then he added, +with emotion: "A man who was willing to give his daughter to a friend +can risk a great deal to honor that friend's memory." + +"There is but one Albert Evan in the world," said Montjoy, after a long +silence. + +The general was getting himself a glass of wine. "Well, there is but one +such Montjoy, for that matter, but we two old fellows lose time sitting +up to pay each other compliments! There is much to be done. I am going +out to see Morgan; he is so new here he may need help! You stay and keep +quiet. The town is full of excitement over this affair, and people watch +me as if I were a curiosity. You can study on politics if you will; +consider the proposition that if Royson retracts we are entitled to +another trial over yonder in the lost county; that or we will threaten +them with an independent race." + +"No! I am too glad to have a chance to stay out honorably. I know now +that my candidacy was a mistake. It has weakened me here fatally." + +Col. Montjoy placed his hand over his heart wearily. The general brought +him the glass of wine he held. + +"Nonsense! Too many cigars! Here's to long life, old friend, and to the +gallant Fire-Eaters." He laughed lightly over his remembrance of the +checkmate he had accomplished, buttoned the blue coat over his broad +chest and started. "I am going now to look in upon my outpost and see +what arrangements have been made for the night. So far we hold the +strong positions. Look for me about daylight!" And, lying there alone, +his friend drifted back in thought to Mary. He was not satisfied. + +The door stood open at Ilexhurst when the general alighted. There was no +answer to his summons; he entered the lighted hall and went to the +library. Edward was sleeping quietly upon a lounge. + +"What!" exclaimed the general, cheerily, "asleep on guard!" Edward +sprang to his feet. + +"Gen. Evan!" + +"Exactly; and as no one answered my summons to surrender I took +possession." Apologizing, Edward drew a chair, and they became seated. + +"Seriously, my young friend," began the old soldier. "I was in the city +to-night and have learned from Col. Montjoy of the infamy perpetrated +upon you. My days of warfare are over, but I could not sit by and see +one to whom we all owe so much imposed upon. Let me add, also, that I +was very much charmed with you, Mr. Morgan. If there is anything I can +do for you in the way of advice and guidance in this matter kindly +command me. I might say the same thing for Montjoy, who is at the hotel, +but unfortunately, as you may not know, his daughter-in-law is Mr. +Royson's cousin, and acting upon my advice he is silent until the +necessity for action arises. I know him well enough to add that you can +rely upon his sympathy, and if needed, his aid. I have advised him to +take no action, as in the first place he is not needed, and in the +second it may bring about an estrangement between his son and himself." + +Edward was very grateful and expressed himself earnestly, but his head +was in a whirl. He was thinking of the woman's story, and of Gerald. + +"Such a piece of infamy as is embraced in that publication," said the +general, when finally the conversation went direct to the heart of the +trouble, "was never equaled in this state. Have they replied to your +note?" + +"Not yet. I am waiting for the answer!" + +"And your--cousin--is he here to receive it?" + +"Gerald? Yes, he is here--that is, excuse me, I will see!" + +Somewhat alarmed over the possibility of Gerald's absence, he hurried +through the house to the wing, and then into the glass-room. Gerald was +asleep. The inevitable little box of pellets upon his table told the sad +story. Edward could not awaken him. + +"It is unfortunate, very," he said, re-entering the library hurriedly, +"but Gerald is asleep and cannot be aroused. The truth is, he is a +victim of opium. The poor fellow is now beyond cure, I am afraid; he is +frail, nervous, excitable, and cannot live without the drug. The day has +been a very trying one for him, and this is the first time he has been +out in years!" + +"He must be awakened," said the general. "Of course he cannot, in the +event that these fellows want to fight, go on the field; and then his +relationship! But to-night! To-night he must be aroused! Let me go with +you." Edward started almost in terror. + +"It might not be well, General--it is not necessary--" + +"On the contrary, a strange voice may have more effect than yours--no +ladies about? Of course not! Lead on, I follow." Greatly confused, +Edward led the way. As they reached the wing he exclaimed the fact of +the glass-room, the whim, the fancy of an imaginative mind, and then +they entered. + +Gerald was sleeping, as was his habit, with one arm extended, the other +under his head; his long hair clustering about his face. The light was +burning brightly, and the general approached. Thrilled to the heart, +Edward steeled himself for a shock. It was well he did. The general bent +forward and laid his hand on the sleeper's shoulder. Then he stepped +quickly back, seized Edward with the strength of a giant and stood there +trembling, his eyes riveted upon the pale face on the pillow. + +"Am I dreaming?" he asked, in a changed voice. "Is this--the young +man--you spoke of?" + +"It is Gerald Morgan." + +"Strange! Strange! That likeness! The likeness of one who will never +wake again, my friend, never! Excuse me; I was startled, overwhelmed! I +would have sworn I looked upon that face as I did in the olden time, +when I used to go and stand in the moonlight and dream above it!" + +"Ah," said Edward, his heart turning to ice within him, "whose was it?" +The answer came in a whisper. + +"It was my wife's face first, and then it was the face of my daughter!" +He drew himself up proudly, and, looking long upon the sleeper, said, +gently: "They shall not waken you, poor child. Albert Evan will take +your place!" With infinite tenderness he brushed back a lock of hair +that fell across the white brow and stood watching him. + +Edward turned from the scene with a feeling that it was too sacred for +intrusion. Over the sleeping form stood the old man. A generation of +loneliness, of silence, of dignified, uncomplaining manhood lay between +them. What right had he, an alien, to be dumb when a word might bring +hope and interest back to that saddened life? Was he less noble than the +man himself--than the frail being locked in the deathlike slumber? + +He glanced once more at Gerald. How he had risen to the issue, and in +the face of every instinct of a shrinking nature had done his part until +the delicate machinery gave way! Suppose their positions were reversed; +that he lay upon the bed, and Gerald stood gazing into the night through +the dew-gemmed glass, possessed of such a secret. Would he hesitate? No! +The answer formed itself instantly--not unless he had base blood in his +veins. + +It was that taint that now held back him, Edward Morgan; he was a +coward. And yet, what would be the effect if he should burst out in that +strange place with his fearful secret? There would be an outcry; Rita +would be dragged in, her story poured forth, and on him the old man's +eyes would be turned in horror and pity. Then the published card would +stand a sentence of social degradation, and he in a foreign land would +nurse the memory of a woman and his disgrace. And Royson! He ground his +teeth. + +"I will settle that first," he said in a hoarse whisper, "and then if it +is true I will prove, God helping me, that His spirit can animate even +the child of a slave!" He bowed his head upon his breast and wept. + +Presently there came to him a consciousness that the black shadow +pressing against the glass almost at his feet was more than a shadow. It +took the form of a human being and moved; then the glass gave way and +through the shivered fragments as it fell, he saw the face of Rita sink +from view. With a loud cry he dashed at the door and sprang into the +darkness! Her tall form lay doubled in the grass. He drew her into the +path of light that streamed out and bent above her. The woman struggled +to speak, moving her head from side to side and lifting it. A groan +burst from her as if she realized that the end had come and her effort +would be useless. He, too, realized it. He pointed upward quickly. + +"There is your God," he said, earnestly, "waiting! Tell me in His name, +am I your child? You know! A mother never forgets! Answer--close your +eyes--give me a sign if they have lied to you!" + +She half-rose in frantic struggle. Her eyes seemed bursting from their +sockets, and her lips framed her last sentence in almost a shriek. + +"They lied!" + +Edward was on his feet in an instant; his lips echoing her words. "They +lied!" The gaslight from within illumined his features, now bright with +triumph, as he looked upward. + +The old general rushed out. He saw the prostrate form and fixed eyes of +the corpse. + +"What is it?" he asked, horrified. Edward turned to him, dizzily; his +gaze followed the old man's. + +"Ah!" he said, "the nurse! She has died of anxiety and watching!" A loud +summons from the ponderous knocker echoed in the house. Edward, excited, +had already begun to move away. + +"Hold!" exclaimed the general, "where now?" + +"I go to meet the slanderer of my race! God have mercy upon him now, +when we come face to face!" His manner alarmed the general. He caught +him by the arm. + +"Easy now, my young friend; the poor woman's fate has unnerved you; not +a step further." He led Edward to the wing-room and forced him down to +the divan. "Stay until I return!" The summons without had been renewed; +the general responded in person and found Marsden Thomas at the door, +who gazed in amazement upon the stately form before him, and after a +moment's hesitation said, stiffly: + +"I have a communication to deliver to Gerald Morgan. Will you kindly +summon him, general?" + +"I know your errand," said Evan, blandly, "and you need waste no +ceremony on me. Gerald is too ill to act longer for Edward Morgan. I +take his place to-night." + +"You! Gen. Evan!" + +"Why not? Did you ever hear that Albert Evan left a friend upon the +field? Come in, come in, Thomas; we are mixed up in this matter, but it +is not our quarrel. I want to talk with you." + +Thomas smiled; the matter was to end in a farce. + +Without realizing it, these two men were probably the last in the world +to whom should have fallen an affair of honor that might have been +settled by concessions. The bluff old general defeated Thomas' efforts +to stand on formal ground, got him into a seat, and went directly at the +matter. + +"It must strike you, Thomas, as absurd that in these days men cannot +settle their quarrels peacefully. There is obliged to be a right and a +wrong side always, and sometimes the right side has some fault in it and +the wrong side some justice. No man can hesitate, when this adjustment +has been made, to align himself with one and repudiate the other. Now, +we both represent friends, and neither of us can suffer them to come out +of this matter smirched. I would not be willing for Royson to do so, and +certainly not for Morgan. If we can bring both parties out safely, is it +not our duty to do so? You will agree with me!" Thomas said without +hesitation: + +"I waive a great deal, General, on your account, when I discuss this +matter at all; but I certainly cannot enter into the merits of the +quarrel unless you withdraw your demand upon us. You have demanded a +retraction of a charge made by us or satisfaction. You cannot expect me +to discuss the advisability of a retraction when I have here a note--" + +"Which you have not delivered, and which I, an old man sick of war and +quarrels, beg that you will not deliver until we have talked over this +matter fully. Why cannot Royson retract, when he has my assurance that +he is in error?" + +"For the reason, probably, General, that he does not believe your +statements--although his friends do!" Evan arose and paced the room. +Coming back he stood over the young man. + +"Did he say so? By the eternal--" + +"General, suppose we settle one affair at a time; I as Royson's friend, +herewith hand you, his reply to the demand of Mr. Morgan. Now, give me +your opinion as to the locality where this correspondence can be quietly +and successfully concluded, in the event that your principal wishes to +continue it." Trembling with rage the old man opened the message; it +read: + + "Mr. Edward Morgan--Sir. I have your communication of this date + handed to me at 8 o'clock to-night by Mr. Gerald Morgan. I have + no retraction or apology to make. + + "Amos Royson." + +Gen. Evan looked upon the missive sadly and long. He placed it upon the +table and resumed his seat, saying: + +"Do you understand, Mr. Thomas, that what I have said is entirely upon +my own responsibility and as a man who thinks his age and record have +given him a privilege with his young friends?" + +"Entirely, General. And I trust you understand that I am without the +privilege of age and record, and cannot take the same liberties." The +general made no reply, but was looking intently upon the face of the +young man. Presently he said, earnestly: + +"Your father and I were friends and stood together on many a bloody +field. I bore him in my arms from Shiloh and gazed upon his dead face an +hour later. No braver man ever lived than William Thomas. I believe you +are the worthy son of a noble sire and incapable of any act that could +reflect disgrace upon his name." + +The general continued: "You cannot link yourself to an unjust cause and +escape censure; such a course would put you at war with yourself and at +war with those who hope to see you add new honors to a name already dear +to your countrymen. When you aid and abet Amos Royson, in his attempt to +put a stigma upon Edward Morgan, you aid and abet him in an effort to do +that for which there is no excuse. Everything stated in Royson's letter, +and especially the personal part of it, can be easily disproved." Thomas +reflected a moment. Finally he said: + +"I thank you, General, for your kind words. The matter is not one within +my discretion, but give me the proofs you speak of, and I will make +Royson withdraw, if possible, or abandon the quarrel myself!" + +"I have given my word; is that not enough?" + +"On that only, Mr. Royson's friends require him to give Mr. Morgan the +recognition of a gentleman; without it he would not. The trouble is, you +can be mistaken." Evan reflected and a look of trouble settled upon his +face. + +"Mr. Thomas, I am going to make a revelation involving the honor and +reputation of a family very dear to me. I do it only to save bloodshed. +Give me your word of honor that never in any way, so long as you may +live, will you reveal it. I shall not offer my unsupported word; I will +produce a witness." + +"You have my word of honor that your communication will be kept sacred," +said Thomas, greatly interested. The general bowed his head. Then he +raised his hand above the call bell; it did not descend. The martial +figure for a moment seemed to shrink and age. When the general looked at +length toward his visitor, he said in a whisper: + +"The witness is dead!" Then he arose to his feet. "It is too late!" he +added, with a slight gesture; "we shall fight!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +THE DUEL AT SUNRISE. + + +From that moment they discussed the arrangements formally. These were +soon made and Thomas departed. + +Edward, regaining his coolness in the wing-room, with the assistance of +Virdow, who had been awakened by the disturbance, carried the body of +Rita to the house in the yard and sent for a suburban physician near at +hand. The man of medicine pronounced the woman dead. Negroes from the +quarters were summoned and took the body in charge. These arrangements +completed, he met the general in the hall. + +"A settlement is impossible," said the latter, sadly. "Get your buggy! +Efforts may be made by arrests to stop this affair. You must go home +with me to-night." Virdow was put in charge of the premises and an +excuse made. + +Alone, Edward returned to the side of the dead woman. Long and earnestly +he studied her face, and at last said: "Farewell!" Then he went to +Gerald's room and laid his lips upon the marble brow of the sleeper. +Upstairs he put certain papers and the little picture in his pocket, +closed the mother's room door and locked it. He turned and looked back +upon the white-columned house as he rode away. Only eight weeks had +passed since he first entered its doors. + +Before leaving, the general had stabled his horse and telephoned Montjoy +at the hotel. Taking a rear street he passed with Edward through the +city and before daylight drew up in front of the Cedars. + +Dueling at the time these events transpired was supposed to be dead in +the south, and practically it was. The press and pulpit, the changed +system of business and labor, state laws, but, above all these, +occupation had rendered it obsolete; but there was still an element that +resorted to the code for the settlement of personal grievances, and +sometimes the result was a bloody meeting. The new order of things was +so young that it really took more courage to refuse to fight than to +fight a duel. The legal evasion was the invitation to conclude the +correspondence outside the state. + +The city was all excitement. The morning papers had columns and black +head lines setting forth all the facts that could be obtained, and more +besides. There was also a brief card from Edward Morgan, denouncing the +author of the letter which had appeared in the extra and denying all +charges brought against him, both personal and political. + +At Mr. Royson's boarding place nothing had been seen of him since the +publication of the card, and his office was closed. Who it was that +acted for Edward Morgan was a matter of surmise, but Col. Montjoy and +Gen. Evan were in the city and quartered at the hotel. The latter had +gone to Ilexhurst and had not returned. + +Peace warrants for Morgan and Royson had been issued and placed in the +hands of deputies, and two of them had watched outside a glass room at +Ilexhurst waiting for a man who was asleep inside, and who had been +pointed out to them by a German visitor as Mr. Morgan, to awaken. The +sleeper, however, proved to be Gerald Morgan, an invalid. + +At noon a bulletin was posted to the effect that Thomas and Royson had +been seen on a South Carolina train; then another that Gen. Evan and +Edward Morgan were recognized in Alabama; then came Tennessee rumors. + +The truth was, so far as Edward Morgan was concerned, he was awakened +before noon, given a room in a farmhouse, remote from the Evan dwelling, +and there settled down to write important letters. One of these he +signed in the presence of witnesses. The last one contained the picture, +some papers and a short note to Gen. Evan; also Edward's surmises as to +Gerald's identity. The other letters were for Virdow, Gerald and Mary. +He had not signed the last when Evan entered the room, but was sitting +with arms folded above it and his head resting on them. + +"Letter writing!" said the general. "That is the worst feature of these +difficulties." He busied himself with a case he carried, turning his +back. Edward sealed his letter and completed his package. + +"Well," he said, rising. "I am now at your service, Gen. Evan!" + +"The horses are ready. We shall start at once and I will give you +instructions on the way." + +The drive was thirty miles, to a remote station upon a branch road, +where the horses were left. + +Connection was made with the main line, yet more distant, and the next +dawn found them at a station on the Florida border. + +They had walked to the rendezvous and were waiting; Edward stood in deep +thought, his eyes fixed upon vacancy, his appearance suggesting profound +melancholy. The general watched him furtively and finally with +uneasiness. After all, the young man was a stranger to him. He had been +drawn into the difficulty by his sympathies, and based his own safety +upon his ability to read men. Experience upon the battle field, however, +had taught him that men who have never been under fire sometimes fail at +the last moment from a physical weakness unsuspected by even themselves. +What if this man should fail? He went up to Edward and laid a hand upon +his shoulder. + +"My young friend, when you are as old as I you will realize that in +cases like this the less a man thinks the better for his nerves. +Circumstances have removed you from the realm of intellect and heart. +You are now simply the highest type of an animal, bound to preserve self +by a formula, and that is the blunt fact." Edward seemed to listen +without hearing. + +"General," he said, presently, "I do not want your services in this +affair under a misapprehension. I have obeyed directions up to this +moment, but before the matter goes further I must tell you what is in my +mind. My quarrel with Amos Royson is because of his injury to me and his +injury to my friends through me. He has made charges, and the customs of +this country, its traditions, make those charges an injury. I believe +the man has a right to resent any injury and punish the spirit behind +it." Gen. Evan was puzzled. He waited in silence. + +"I did not make these fine distinctions at first, but the matter has +been upon my mind and now I wish you to understand that if this poor +woman were my mother I would not fight a duel even if I could, simply +because someone told me so in print. If it were true, this story, there +would be no shame to me in it; there would be no shame to me unless I +deserted her. If it were true I should be her son in deed and truth. I +would take her by the hand and seek her happiness in some other land. +For, as God is my judge, to me the world holds nothing so sacred as a +mother, and I would not exchange the affections of such were she the +lowliest in the land, for all the privileges of any society. It is right +that you should know the heart of the man you are seconding. If I fall +my memory shall be clear of the charge of unmanliness." + +Gen. Evan's appearance, under less tragic circumstances, would have been +comical. For one instant, and for the first time in his life, he +suffered from panic. His eyes, after a moment of wide-open amazement, +turned helplessly toward the railroad and he began to feel for his +glasses. When he got them adjusted he studied his companion critically. +But the explosion that should have followed when the situation shaped +itself in the old slaveholder's mind did not come. He saw before him the +form of his companion grow and straighten, and the dark eyes, softened +by emotion, shining fearlessly into his. It was the finest appeal that +could have been made to the old soldier. He stretched out his hand +impulsively. + +"Unorthodox, but, by heavens, I like it!" he said. + +The up-train brought Royson and Thomas and a surgeon from a Florida +town. Evan was obliged to rely upon a local doctor. + +At sunrise the two parties stood in the shadow of live oaks, not far +apart. Evan and Thomas advanced and saluted each other formally. Evan +waited sadly for the other to speak; there was yet time for an honorable +settlement. Men in the privacy of their own rooms think one way, and +think another way in the solemn silence of a woodland sunrise. + +And preceding it all in this instance there had been hours for +reflection and hours of nervous apprehension. The latter told plainly +upon Amos Royson. White and haggard, he moved restlessly about his +station, watching the seconds and ever and anon stealing side-long +glances at Morgan. Why, he asked himself, did the man stare at him with +that fixed, changeless expression? Was he seeking to destroy his nerves, +to overpower him with superior will? No. The gaze was simply +contemplative; the gaze of one looking upon a landscape and considering +its features. But it was a never-ending one to all appearances. + +Hope died away from the general's heart at the first words of Thomas. + +"We are here, Gen. Evan. What is your pleasure as to the arrangements? I +would suggest that we proceed at once to end this affair. I notice that +we are beginning to attract attention and people are gathering." + +The general drew him aside and they conversed. The case of pistols was +opened, the weapons examined and carefully loaded and then the ground +was stepped off--fifteen paces upon a north and south line, with the +low, spreading mass of live oaks behind each station. There were no +perpendicular lines, no perspective, to influence the aim of either +party. There were really no choice of positions, but one had to be +chosen. A coin flashed in the sunlight as it rose and descended. + +"We win," said Thomas, simply, "and choose the north stand. Take your +place." The general smiled grimly. + +"I have faced north before," he said. He stood upon the point +designated, and pointed to Edward. Then the latter was forced to speak. +He still gazed fixedly upon his antagonist. The general looked steadily +into his pale face, and, pointing to his own track as he moved aside, +said: + +"Keep cool, now, my boy, and fire instantly. These pistols are heavier +than revolvers; I chose them because the recoil of a revolver is +destructive of an amateur's aim. These will shoot to the spot. Keep +cool, keep cool, for God's sake, and remember the insult!" + +"Have no fear for me," said Morgan. "I will prove that no blood of a +slave is here!" + +He took the weapon and stood in position. He had borne in mind all the +morning the directions given by Gerald; he knew every detail of that +figure facing him in the now bright sunlight; he had sketched it in +detail to the mouth that uttered its charge against him. The hour might +pass with no disaster to him; he might fall a corpse or a cripple for +life; but so long as life lasted this picture would remain. A man with a +hard, pale face, a white shirt front, dark trousers, hand clasping +nervously a weapon, and behind all the deep green of the oaks, with +their chiaroscuro. Only one thing would be missing; the picture in mind, +clear cut and perfect in every other detail, lacked a mouth! + +Some one is calling to them. + +"Are you ready, gentlemen?" 'Twas the hundredth part of a second, but +within it he answered "yes," ready to put the pencil to that last +feature--to complete the picture for all time! + +"Fire!" He raised his brush and touched the spot; there was a crash, a +shock, and--what were they doing? His picture had fallen from its frame +and they were lifting it. But it was complete; the carmine was spattered +all over the lower face. He heard the general's voice: + +"Are you hurt, Edward?" and the pistol was taken from his grasp. + +"Hurt! No, indeed! But I seemed to have spoiled my painting, General. +Look! My brush must have slipped; the paint was too thin." + +The general hurried away. + +"Keep your place; don't move an inch! Can I be of assistance, +gentlemen?" he continued to the opposite party; our surgeon can aid you, +my principal being uninjured. He paused; an exclamation of horror +escaped him. The mouth and nose of Royson seemed crushed in, and he was +frantically spitting broken teeth from a bloody gap where his mouth had +been. The surgeons worked rapidly to stay the flow of crimson. While +thus busy the general in wonder picked up Royson's pistol. Its trigger +and guard were gone. He looked at the young man's right hand; the +forefinger was missing. + +"An ugly wound, gentlemen," he said, "but not fatal, I think. The ball +struck the guard, cut away a finger, and drove the weapon against the +mouth and nose." + +The surgeon looked up. + +"You are right, I think. A bad disfigurement of those features, but not +a dangerous wound." Thomas saluted. + +"I have to announce my principal disabled, General." + +"We are then satisfied." + +Returning to Edward, who was quietly contemplating the scene with little +apparent interest, he said, almost gayly: + +"A fine shot, Edward; a fine shot! His pistol saved him! If he had +raised it an instant later he would have been struck fairly in the mouth +by your bullet! Let us be going." + +"It is perhaps fortunate that my shot was fired when it was," said +Edward. "I have a bullet hole through the left side of my shirt." The +general looked at the spot and then at the calm face of the speaker. + +He extended his hand again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE SHADOW OVER THE HALL. + + +Col. Montjoy returned home early. He rode into the yard and entered the +house with as much unconcern as he could affect. Annie met him at the +door with an unusual display of interest. Had he rested well? Was not +the hotel warm, and--was there anything of interest stirring in the +city? To all these questions he responded guardedly and courteously. +Mary's white face questioned him. He put his arm about her. + +"And how is the little mamma to-day--have her eyes given her any more +trouble?" + +"She is staying in the darkened room to avoid the light," said the girl. +He went to her and the two young women were left alone. Annie was +smiling and bent upon aggravation. + +"I think I shall ride in," she said at length. "There is something afoot +that is being kept from me. Amos Royson is my cousin and I have a right +to know if he is in trouble." Mary did not reply for a moment. At last +she said: + +"A man having written such a letter must expect to find himself in +trouble--and danger, too." The other laughed contemptuously. + +"I did not say danger! Amos has little to fear from the smooth-faced, +milk-and-water man he has exposed." + +"Wait and see," was the reply. "Amos Royson is a coward; he will not +only find himself in danger, but if necessary to save himself from a +cowhiding will involve other people--even a woman!" + +"What do you mean? You have not always thought him a coward; you have +accepted his attentions and would have married him if you had had the +chance." Mary looked up quickly. + +"I treated him with politeness because he was your cousin; that is all. +As for marriage with him, that is too absurd to have even occurred to +me." + +Annie ordered Isam to bring her pony carriage, and as she waited Mary +watched her in silence and with a strange expression upon her face. When +her father returned she said, resolutely: + +"Annie, I was awake last night and heard a horse coming. Thinking it +might be papa, although the pace was rather fast for him, I went out to +the gate. There was a negro with a note for you from Mr. Royson. Mamma +had just got to sleep and I was afraid of waking her, so I sent Mr. +Royson word to see papa at the hotel." + +The sister-in-law seized her by the shoulder. + +"By what right, miss, do you meddle with my business! It may have been a +question of a man's life! You have ruined everything!" She was trembling +with rage. Mary faced her resolutely. + +"And it may have been a question of a man's honor. In either case, my +father is the one to consult!" + +"Sit down, both of you! Annie--Mary, I desire this matter to end at +once!" Col. Montjoy spoke calmly but firmly. He retained his clasp upon +his daughter's hand and gradually as he talked drew her to his knees. + +"There is a serious difficulty pending between Mr. Morgan and Amos +Royson, as you both probably know," he said, quietly. "The matter is in +good hands, however, and I think will be satisfactorily arranged. I do +not know which were better, to have delivered Amos' note or not. It was +a question Mary had to decide upon the spur of the moment. She took a +safe course, at least. But it is unseemly, my children, to quarrel over +it! Drop the matter now and let affairs shape themselves. We cannot take +one side or the other." Annie made no reply, but her lips wore their +ironical smile as she moved away. + +Mary hid her face upon her father's breast and wept softly. She knew +that he did not blame her, and she knew by intuition that she had done +right, but she was not satisfied. No shadow should come between her +father and herself. + +"I was certain," she said, "that there was something wrong in that note. +You remember what I told you. And I was determined that those two people +should not hatch up any more mischief in this house. Mr. Morgan's safety +might have depended upon keeping them apart." The colonel laughed and +shook his head. But he only said: + +"If it will help clear up your skies a little, I don't mind telling you +that I would not have had that note delivered last night for half this +plantation." She was satisfied then. + +"Who ordered the cart, Isam?" The negro was at the gate. + +"Young mis', sah. She goin' to town." + +"Well, you can put it back. It will not be necessary for her to go now. +Annie," he said, turning to that lady, as she appeared in the door, "I +have sent the cart back. I prefer that none of my family be seen upon +the streets to-day." There was an unwonted tone in his voice which she +did not dare disregard. With a furious look, which only Mary saw, she +returned to her room. A negro upon a mule brought a note. It read: + + "Dear Norton: All attempts at settlement have failed. I should + like to see you, but think you had better maintain strict + neutrality, will wire you to-morrow. + + "A. E." + +"There is no answer," he said to the boy. And then, greatly depressed, +he went to his room. Mary, who read every thought correctly, knew that +the matter was unsettled and that her father was hopeless. She went +about her duties steadily, but with her heart breaking. The chickens, +pigeons, the little kids, the calves--none of them felt the tragedy in +their lives. Their mistress was grave and unappreciative; nothing more. +But her eyes were not closed. She saw little Jerry armed with a note go +out on the mare across the lower-creek bridge, and the expectant face of +Annie for two hours or more in every part of the house that commanded a +view of that unused approach. + +Then Jerry came back and went to the sister-in-law's door. He had not +reached his quarters before Mary called him to help her catch a +fractious hen. Then she got him into the dining-room and cut an enormous +slice of iced cake. + +"Jerry," she said, "how would you like that?" Jerry's white eyes and +teeth shone resplendent. He shifted himself to his left foot and +laughed. "Tell me where you have been and it is yours." Jerry looked +abashed and studied a silver quarter he held in his hand, then he +glanced around cautiously. + +"Honest, missy?" + +"Honest! Quick, or I put the cake back." She made a feint. + +"Been to town." + +"Of course. Who was the note for?" + +"Mr. Royson." + +"Did he answer it?" + +"No'm. Couldn't find him. Er nigger tole me he gone ter fight wid Mr. +Morgan, and everybody waitin' ter hear de news." + +"You can--go--Jerry. There," she handed him the cake, and, walking +unsteadily, went to her room. She did not come out until supper time and +then her face was proof that the "headache" was not feigned. + +And so into the night. She heard the doors open and shut, the sound of +her father's footsteps on the porch as he came and went. She went out +and joined him, taking his arm. + +"Papa," she said, after awhile, "you need not keep it from me. I know +all. They did not settle it. Mr. Morgan and Mr. Royson have gone to +fight." She could not proceed. Her father laid his hand upon hers. + +"It will all come out right, Mary; it will all come out right." +Presently he said: "Amos used to come here. I hope you are not +interested in him." + +"No," she said bitterly, "I could never think much of Annie's relatives. +One in the family is enough." + +"Hush, my child; everything must give way now on Norton's account. Don't +forget him. But for Norton I would have settled this matter in another +way." + +"Yes, and but for him there would never have been a necessity. Amos +depended upon his relationship to keep you out of it." Col. Montjoy had +long unconsciously relied upon the clear mind of the girl, but he was +not prepared for this demonstration of its wisdom. He wondered anew as +he paced the floor in silence. She continued: "But Amos is only the +tool, papa; all of us have an enemy here in the house. Annie----" + +"Hush! Hush!" he whispered, "don't say it. It seems too awful to think +of! Annie is foolish! She must never know, on Norton's account, that she +is in any way suspected of complicity in this matter." And then in +silence they waited for dawn. + +At last the merciful sun rolled away the shadows. Breakfast was a sad +affair. All escaped from it as soon as possible. + +It was a fateful day--7, 8, 9 o'clock. The matter was ended; but how? +Mary's haggard face questioned her father at every turn. He put his arm +about her and went to see her pets and charges, but still no word +between them. She would not admit her interest in Edward Morgan, nor +would he admit to himself that she had an interest at stake. + +And then toward noon there came a horseman, who placed a message in his +hands. He read it and handed it to Mary. If he had not smiled she could +not have read it. One word only was there: + +"Safe!" + +Her father was at the moment unfolding an 'extra.' She read it with him +in breathless interest. Following an unusual display of headlines came +an accurate account of the duel. Only a small part of the padded +narrative is reproduced here: + +"Royson was nervous and excited and showed the effects of unrest. But +Morgan stood like a statue. For some reason he never moved his eyes from +his adversary a moment after they reached the field. Both men fired at +the command, their weapons making but one report. Some think, however, +that Morgan was first by the hundredth part of a second, and this is +possible, as the single report sounded like a crash or a prolonged +explosion. Royson fell, and it was supposed was certainly killed. He +presented a frightful appearance instantly, being covered with blood. It +was quickly ascertained, however, that he was not dangerously hurt, his +opponent's shot having cut off a finger and the pistol guard, had hurled +the heavy weapon into his face. He escaped with a broken nose and the +loss of his front teeth. + +"Morgan, who had preserved his wonderful coolness from the first, +received a bullet through a fold of his shirt that darkened the skin to +the left of his heart. It was a narrow escape. Parties took the up +train." + +The extra went on to say that since the first reading of the original +card the public mind had undergone a revulsion in Morgan's favor; a +feeling greatly stimulated by the fact that Gen. Evan had come to the +rescue of that gentleman; had vouched for him in every respect and was +acting as his second. When the colonel had finished the thrilling news +he noticed that Mary's head was in his lap, and felt tears upon his hand +above which her own were clasped. Annie was looking on, cold and white. + +"There has been a duel, my daughter," he said to her kindly, "and, +fortunately, without alarming results. Mr. Royson lost a finger, I +believe, and received a bruise in the face; that is all. Nothing +serious. It might have been much worse. Here is the paper," he +concluded, "probably an exaggerated account." She took it in silence and +returned to her room. She ran her eye through every sentence without +reading and at last threw the sheet aside. + +Only those who knew the whole character of Annie Montjoy would have +understood. She was looking for her name; it was not there. Her smiling +face was proof enough. + +Long they sat, father and daughter, his hand still stroking lightly her +bowed head. At last he said, very gently, the hand trembling a little: + +"This has been a hard trial for us both--for us both! I am glad it is +over! Morgan is too fine a fellow to have been sacrificed to this man's +hatred and ambition." She looked up, her face wet and flushed. + +"There was more than that, papa." + +"More? How could there be?" + +She hesitated, and then said, bravely: "Mr. Royson has more than once +asked me to marry him." The colonel's face grew black with sudden rage. + +"The scoundrel!" + +"And he has imagined that because Mr. Morgan came to help your +election--oh, I cannot." She turned hastily and went away in confusion. + +And still the colonel sat and thought with clouded face. + +"I must ask Evan," he said. + +"Colonel, Mis' Calline says come deir, please." A servant stood by him. +He arose and went into his wife's room. She was standing by the open +window, its light flooding the apartment, her bandages removed. + +"Why, Caroline, you are imprudent, don't you know? What is it, my dear? +She was silent and rigid, a living statue bathed in the glory of the +autumn sun. She waited until she felt his hand in hers. + +"Norton," she said, simply, but with infinite pathos, "I am afraid +that I have seen your loved face for the last time. I am blind!" He +took her in his arms--the form that even age could not rob of its +girlishness--and pressed her face to his breast. It had come at last. +His tears fell for the first time since boyhood. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE PROFILE ON THE MOON. + + +Virdow felt the responsibility of his position. He had come on a +scientific errand and found himself plunged into a tragedy. And there +were attendant responsibilities, the most serious of which was the +revelation to Gerald of what had occurred. + +The young man precipitated the crisis. The deputies gone, he wanted his +coffee; it had not failed him in a lifetime. Again and again he rang his +bell, and finally from the door of his wing-room called loudly for Rita. +Then the professor saw that the time for action had come. The watchers +about the body were consulting. None cared to face that singular being +of whom they felt a superstitious dread, but if they did not come to him +he would finally go to them. What would be the result of his unexpected +discovery of the tragedy? It might be disastrous. As he spoke, he +removed his glasses from time to time, carefully wiping and replacing +them, his faded eyes beaming in sympathy and anxiety upon his young +acquaintance. + +"Herr Gerald," he began, "you know the human heart?" Gerald frowned and +surveyed him with impatience. + +"Sometimes at last the little valve, as you call it--sometimes the +little valve grows weak, and when the blood leaps out too quickly and +can't run on quickly enough--you understand--it comes back suddenly +again and drives the valve lid back the wrong way." + +"Then it is a ruined piece of machinery." + +"So," said the professor, sadly; "you have stated it correctly. So, +Rita--she had an old heart--and it is ruined!" + +Gerald gazed upon him in doubt, but fearful. + +"You mean Rita is dead?" + +"Yes," said Virdow. "Poor Rita!" Gerald studied the face before him +curiously, passed his hand across his brow, as if to clear away a cloud, +and then went out across the yard. The watchers fled at his approach. In +the little room he came upon the body. The woman, dressed in her best +but homely attire, lay with her hands crossed upon her bosom, her face +calm and peaceful. Upon her lips was that strange smile which sometimes +comes back over a gulf of time from forgotten youth. He touched her +wrist and watched her. + +Virdow was right; she was dead. + +As if to converse with a friend, he took a seat upon the couch and +lifting one cold hand held it while he remained. This was Rita, who had +always come to wake him when he slept too late; had brought his meals, +had answered whenever he called, and found him when he wandered too long +under the stars and guided him back to his room. Rita, who, when his +moods distracted him, had only to fix her eyes on his and speak his +name, and all was peace again. + +This was Rita. Dead! + +How could it be? How could anything be wrong with Rita? It was +impossible! He put his hand above the heart; it was silent. He spoke her +name. She did not reply. + +Gradually, as he concentrated his attention upon the facts, his mind +emerged from its shadows. Yes, Rita, his friend, was dead. And then +slowly, his life, with its haunting thoughts, its loneliness, came back, +and the significance of these facts overwhelmed him. + +He knew now who Rita was; it was an old, old story. He knelt and laid +his cheek upon that yellow chilled hand, the only hand that had ever +lovingly touched him. + +She had been a mother indeed; humoring his every whim. She had never +scolded; not Rita! + +The doctors had said he could sleep without his opium; they shut him up +and he suffered torments. Rita came in the night. Her little store of +money had been drawn on. They, together, deceived the doctors. For years +they deceived them, he and Rita, until all her little savings were gone. +And then she had worked for the gentlemen down-town; had schemed and +plotted and brought him comfort, until the doctors gave up the struggle. + +Now she was gone--forever! Strange, but this contingency had never once +occurred to him. How egotistical he must have been; how much a child--a +spoiled child! + +He looked about him. Rita had years ago told him a secret. In the night +she had bent over him and called him fond names; had wept upon his +pillow. She had told him to speak the word just once, never again but +that one time, and then to forget it. Wondering he said it--"Mother." He +could not forget how she fell upon him then and tearfully embraced him; +he the heir and nephew of John Morgan. But it pleased good Rita and he +was happy. + +Dead! Rita! Would it waken her if he spoke that name again? He bent to +her cheek to say it, but first he looked about him cautiously. Rita +would not like for any one to share the secret. He bent until his lips +were touching hers and whispered it again: + +"Mother!" She did not move. He spoke louder and louder. + +"Mother." How strange sounded that one word in the deserted room. A fear +seized him; would she never speak again? He dropped on his knees in +agony; and, with his hand upon her forehead, almost screamed the word +again. It echoed for the last time--"Mother!" Just then the face of +Virdow appeared at the door, to be withdrawn instantly. + +Then Gerald grew cool. "She is dead," he said, sadly to himself. "She +would have answered that!" + +A change came over him! He seemed to emerge from a dream; Virdow stood +by him now. Drawing himself up proudly he gazed upon the dead face. + +"She was a good nurse--a better no child ever had. Were my uncle living +he would build her a great monument. I will speak to Edward about it. It +is not seemly that people who have served the Morgans so long and +faithfully should sleep in unmarked graves. Farewell, Rita; you have +been good and true to me." He went to his room. An hour later Virdow +found him there, crying as a child. + +With a tenderness that rose superior to the difficulties of language and +the differences of race and customs, Virdow comforted and consoled him. +And then occurred one of those changes familiar to the students of +nature but marvelous to the unobservant. To Virdow, who had seen the +vine of his garden torn from the supporting rod about which it had tied +itself with tendrils, attach itself again by the gluey points of new +ones to the smooth face of the wall itself, coiling them into springs to +resist the winds, the change that came upon Gerald was natural. The +broken tendrils of his life touched with quick intelligence the +sympathetic old German and linked the simple being of the child-man to +him. By an intuition, womanly in its swift comprehension, Virdow knew at +once that he had become in some ways necessary to the life of the frail +being, and he was pleased. He gave himself up to the mission without +effort, disturbing in no way the new process. Watching Gerald, he +appeared not to watch; present at all times, he seemed to keep himself +aloof. + +Virdow called up an undertaker from the city in accordance with the +directions left with him and had the body of Rita prepared for the +burial, which was to take place upon the estate, and then left all to +the care of the watchers. During the day from time to time Gerald went +to the little room, and on such visits those in attendance withdrew. + +There was little excitement among the negroes. The singing, shouting and +violent ecstasies which distinguished the burials of the race were +wanting; Rita had been one of those rare servants who keep aloof from +her color. Gradually withdrawn from all contact with the world, her life +had shrunk into a little round of duties and the care of the Morgan +home. + +It was only natural that the young master should find himself alone with +the nurse on each return to her coffin. During one of these visits +Virdow at a distance beheld a curious thing. Gerald had gazed long and +thoughtfully into the silent face and returning to his room had secured +paper and crayon. Kneeling, he drew carefully the profile of his dead +friend and went away to his studio. Standing in his place a moment +later, Virdow was surprised to note the change that had come over the +face; the relaxing power of death seemed to have rolled back the curtain +of age and restored for the hour a glimpse of youth. A woman of +twenty-five seemed lying there, her face noble and serene, a glorified +glimpse of what had been. The brow was smooth and young, the facial +angle high, the hair, now no longer under the inevitable turban, smooth +and black, with just a suspicion of frost above the temples. The lips +were curved and smiling. + +Why had the young man drawn her profile? What real position did this +woman occupy in that strange family? As to the latter he could not +determine; he would not try. He had nothing to do with the domestic +facts of life. There had been a deep significance in the first scene at +the bedside. And yet "Mother" under the circumstances might after all +mean nothing. He had heard that southern children were taught this, or +something like it, by all black nurses. But as to the profile, there was +a phenomenon possibly, and science was his life. The young man had drawn +the profile because it was the first time he had within his +recollections ever seen it. In the analysis of his dreams that profile +might be of momentous importance. + +The little group that had gathered followed the coffin to a clump of +trees not far removed. The men who bore it lowered it at once to the +open grave. An old negro preacher lifted his voice in a homely prayer, +the women sang a weird hymn, and then they filled up the cavity. The +face and form of Rita were removed from human vision, but only the face +and form. For one of that concourse, the young white man who had come +bareheaded to stand calm and silent at the foot of the grave, she lived +clear and distinct upon the hidden film of memory. + +Virdow was not deceived by that calmness; he knew and feared the +reaction which was inevitable. From time to time during the evening he +had gone silently to the wing-room and to the outer yard to gaze in upon +his charge. Always he found him calm and rational. He could not +understand it. + +Then, disturbed by the suspense of Edward's absence, and the uncertainty +of his fate, he would forget himself and surroundings in contemplation +of the possible disasters of an American duel--exaggerated accounts of +which dwelt in his memory. He resolved to remain up until the crisis +came. + +It was midnight when, for the twentieth time, probably, he went to look +in upon Gerald. The wing-room, the glass-room, the little house deprived +by death of its occupant, the outer premises--he searched them all in +vain. Greatly troubled, he stood revolving the new perplexity in his +mind when his eye caught in the faint glow of the east, where the moon +was beginning to show its approach, the outline of the cemetery clump of +trees. It flashed upon him then that, drawn by the power of association, +the young man might have wandered off to pay a visit to the grave of his +friend. He turned his own feet in the same direction, and approached the +spot. The grave had been dug under the wide-spread limbs of cedar, and +there he found the object of his quest. + +Slowly the moon rose above the level field beyond, outlining a form. In +his dressing gown stood Gerald, with folded arms, his long hair falling +upon his shoulders, lost in deep thought. + +Thrilled by the scene, Virdow was about to speak, when, in the twinkling +of an eye, there was flashed upon him a vision that sent his blood back +to his heart and left him speechless with emotion. For in that moment +the half-moon was at the level of the head, and outlined against its +silver surface he saw the profile of the face he had studied in the +coffin. Appalled by the discovery, he turned silently and sought his +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE MIDNIGHT SEARCH. + + +It was late in the day when Virdow awoke. The excitement, the unwonted +hours which circumstances forced him to keep, brought at last unbroken +rest and restored his physical structure to its normal condition. + +He dressed himself and descended to find a brief telegram announcing the +safety of Edward. It was a joyful addition to the conditions that had +restored him. The telegram had not been opened. He went quickly to +Gerald's room and found that young man at work upon a painting of Rita +as he had seen her last--the profile sketch. His emotional nature had +already thrown off its gloom, and with absorbed interest he was pushing +his work. Already the face had been sketched in and the priming +completed. Under his rapid and skillful hands the tints and contours +were growing, and Virdow, accustomed as he was to the art in all its +completeness and technical perfection, marveled to see the changed face +of the woman glide back into view, the counterpart he knew of the vivid +likeness clear cut in the sensitive brain that held it. He let him work +undisturbed. A word might affect its correctness. Only when the artist +ceased and laid aside his brush for a brief rest did he speak. + +Gerald turned to him as to a co-laborer, and took the yellow slip of +paper, so potent with intelligent lettering. He read it in silence; then +putting it aside went on with his painting. Virdow rubbed his brow and +studied him furtively. Such lack of interest was inconceivable under the +conditions. He went to work seriously to account for it and this he did +to his own satisfaction. In one of his published lectures on memory, +years after, occurred this sentence, based upon that silent reverie: + +"Impressions and forgetfulness are measurable by each other; indeed, the +power of the mind to remember vividly seems to be measured by its power +to forget." + +But afterward Gerald picked up the telegram, read it intently and seemed +to reflect over the information it contained. Later in the day the +postman brought the mail and with it one of the "extras." Virdow read it +aloud in the wing-room. Gerald came and stood before him, his eyes +revealing excitement. When Virdow reached the part wherein Edward was +described as never removing his eyes from his antagonist, his hearer +exclaimed: + +"Good! He will kill him!" + +"No," said Virdow, smiling; "fortunately he did not. Listen." + +"Fortunately!" cried Gerald; "fortunately! Why? What right has such a +man to live? He must have killed him!" Virdow read on. A cry broke from +Gerald's lips as the explanation appeared. + +"I was right! The hand becomes a part of the eye when the mind wills it; +or, rather, eye and hand become mind. The will is everything. But why he +should have struck the guard----" He went to the wall and took down two +pistols. Handing one to Virdow and stepping back he said: "You will +please sight at my face a moment; I cannot understand how the accident +could have happened." Virdow held the weapon gingerly. + +"But, Herr Gerald, it may be loaded." + +"They are empty," said Gerald, breeching his own and exposing the +cylinder chambers, with the light shining through. "Now aim!" Virdow +obeyed; the two men stood at ten paces, aiming at each other's faces. +"Your hand," said the young man, "covers your mouth. Edward aimed for +the mouth." + +There was a quick, sharp explosion; Virdow staggered back, dropping his +smoking pistol. Gerald turned his head in mild surprise and looked upon +a hole in the plastering behind. + +"I have no recollection of loading that pistol," he said. And then: "If +your mind had been concentrated upon your aim I would have lost a finger +and had my weapon driven into my face." Virdow was shocked at the narrow +escape and pale as death. + +"It is nothing," said Gerald, replacing the weapon; "you would not hit +me in a dozen trials, shooting as you do." + +At 10 o'clock that night Edward, pale and weary, entered. He returned +with emotion the professor's enthusiastic embrace, and thanked him for +his care and attention of Gerald and the household and for his services +to the dead. Gerald studied him keenly as he spoke, and once went to one +side and looked upon him with new and curious interest. The professor +saw that he was examining the profile of the speaker by the aid of the +powerful lamp on the table beyond. The discovery set his mind to working +in the same direction, and soon he saw the profiles of both. Edward's +did not closely resemble the other. That this was true, for some reason, +the expression that had settled upon Gerald's face attested. The +portrait had been covered and removed. + +Edward, after concluding some domestic arrangements, went directly to +his room and, dressed as he was, threw himself upon his bed and slept. + +And as he slept there took place about him a drama that would have set +his heart beating with excitement could he have witnessed it. The house +was silent; the city clock had tolled the midnight hour, when Gerald +came into the room, bearing a shaded lamp. The sleeper lay on his back, +locked in the slumber of exhaustion. The visitor, moving with the +noiselessness of a shadow, glided to the opposite side of the bed, and, +placing the lamp on a chair, slowly turned up the flame and tilted the +shade. In an instant the strong profile of the sleeper flashed upon the +wall. With suppressed excitement Gerald unwrapped a sheet of cardboard, +and standing it on the mantel received upon it the shadow. As if by a +supreme effort, he controlled himself and traced the profile on his +paper. Lifting it from the mantel he studied it for a moment intently +and then replaced it. The shadow filled the tracing. Taking it slowly +from its position he passed from the room. Fortunately his distraction +was too great for him to notice the face of Virdow, or to perceive it in +the deep gloom of the little room as he passed out. + +The German waited a few moments; no sound came back from the broad +carpeted stair; taking the forgotten lamp, he followed him silently. +Passing out into the shrubbery, he made his way to the side of the +conservatory and looked in. Gerald had placed the two profiles, one on +each side of the mirror, and with a duplex glass was studying his own in +connection with them. He stood musing, and then, as if forgetting his +occupation, he let the hand-glass crash upon the floor, tossed his arms +in an abandonment of emotion, and, covering his face with his hands, +suddenly threw himself across the bed. + +Virdow was distressed and perplexed. He read the story in the pantomime, +but what could he do? No human sympathy could comfort such a grief, nor +could he betray his knowledge of the secret he had surreptitiously +obtained. He paced up and down outside until presently the moving shadow +of the occupant of the room fell upon his path. He saw him then take +from a box a little pill and put it in his mouth, and he knew that the +troubles of life, its doubts, distress and loneliness, would be +forgotten for hours. + +Forgotten? Who knows? Oh, mystery of creation; that invisible +intelligence that vanishes in sleep and in death; gone on its voyage of +discovery, appalling in its possibilities; but yet how useless, since it +must return with no memory of its experience! + +And he, Virdow, what a dreamer! For in that German brain of subtleties +lived, with the clearness of an incandescent light in the depths of a +coal mine, one mighty purpose; one so vast, so potent in its +possibilities, as to shake the throne of reason, a resolution to follow +upon the path of mind and wake a memory never touched in the history of +science. It was not an ambition; it was a leap toward the gates of +heaven! For what cared he that his name might shine forever in the +annals of history if he could claim of his own mind the record of its +wanderings? The future was not his thought. What he sought was the +memory of the past! + +He went in now, secure of the possibility of disturbing the sleeper, and +stood looking down into the room's appointments; there were the two +profiles on either side of the mirror; upon the floor the shivered +fragments of the hand-glass. + +Virdow returned to his room, but before leaving he took from the little +box one of the pellets and swallowed it. If he was to know that mind, he +must acquaint himself with its conditions. He had never before swallowed +the drug; he took this as the Frenchman received the attenuated virus of +hydrophobia from the hands of Pasteur--in the interest of science and +the human race. + +As he lay upon his bed he felt a languor steal upon him, saw in far +dreams cool meadows and flowery slopes, felt the solace of perfect +repose envelop him. And then he stood beside a stream of running water +under the shade of the trees, with the familiar hills of youth along the +horizon. A young woman came and stood above the stream and looked +intently upon its glassy surface. Her feature were indistinct. Drawing +near he, too, looked into the water, and there at his feet was the sad, +sweet face of--Marion Evan. He turned and then looked closer at the +woman; he saw in her arms the figure of an infant, over whose face she +had drawn a fold of her gown. She shook her head as he extended his hand +to remove this and pointed behind her. There the grass ran out and only +white sand appeared, with no break to the horizon. + +Toiling on through this, with a bowed head, was a female figure. He knew +her; she was Rita, and the burden she, too, carried in her arms was the +form of a child. The figures disappeared and a leaf floated down the +stream; twenty-six in succession followed, and then he saw a man +descending the mountains and coming forward, his eyes fixed on something +beyond him. It was Edward. He looked in the same direction; there was a +frail man toiling toward him through the deep sands in the hot sunlight. +It was Gerald. And then the figures faded away. There memory ceased to +record. + +Whatever else was the experience of that eager mind as it wandered on +through the mystery, and phantasmagoria has no place in science. He +remembered in the morning up to one point only. + +It was his last experience with the drug. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +GATHERING THE CLEWS. + + +Edward drifted for several days upon the tide of the thoughts that came +over him. He felt a singular disinclination to face the world again. He +knew that as life goes he had acquitted himself manfully and that +nothing remained undone that had been his duty to perform. He was +sensible of a feeling of deep gratitude to the old general for his +active and invaluable backing; without it he realized then that he would +have been drawn into a pitfall and the opportunity for defense gone. He +did not realize, however, how complete the public reaction had been +until card after card had been left at Ilexhurst and the postman had +deposited congratulatory missives by the score. One of these contained +notice of his election to the club. + +Satisfactory as was all this he put aside the social and public life +into which he had been drawn, conscious that, while the affront to him +had been resented and rendered harmless, he himself was as much in the +dark as ever; that as a matter of fact he was without name and family, +without right to avail himself of the generous offers laid at his door. +Despite his splendid residence, his future, his talents and his prestige +as a man of honor, he was--nobody; an accident of fate; a whim of an +eccentric old man. + +He should not involve any one else in the possibility of ruin. He should +not let another share his danger. There could be no happiness with this +mystery hanging over him. + +Soon after his return, while his heart was yet sore and disturbed, he +had received a note from Mary. She wrote: + + "We suffer greatly on your account. Poor papa was bound down by + circumstances with which you are familiar, though he would gone + to you at any cost had it been necessary. In addition his + health is very delicate and he has been facing a heavy + sorrow--now realized at last! Poor little mamma's eyesight is + gone--forever, probably. We are in deep distress, as you may + imagine, for, unused as yet to her misfortune, she is quite + helpless and needs our constant care, and it is pitiful to see + her efforts to bear up and be cheerful. + + "I need not tell you how I have sorrowed over the insult and + wrongs inflicted upon you by a cowardly connection of our + family, nor how anxious I was until the welcome news of your + safety reached us. We owe you much, and more now since you were + made the innocent victim of a plot aimed to destroy papa's + chances. + + "It is unbearable to think of your having to stand up and be + shot at in our behalf; but oh, how glad I am that you had the + old general with you. Is he not noble and good? He is quite + carried away with you and never tires of talking of your + coolness and courage. He says everything has ended beautifully + but the election, and he could remedy that if papa would + consent, but nothing in the world could take papa away from us + now, and if he had been elected his resignation would have + speedily followed. + + "I know you are yet weary and bitter, and do not even care to + see your friends, but that will pass and none will give you a + more earnest welcome when you do come than + + "Mary." + +He read this many times, and each time found in it a new charm. Its +simplicity and earnestness impressed him at one reading and its personal +interest at another; its quick discerning sympathy in another. + +It grew upon him, that letter. It was the only letter ever penned by a +woman to him. Notes he had had by the score; rich young men in the great +capitals of Europe do not escape nor seek to escape these, but this was +straight from the heart of an earnest, self-reliant, sympathetic woman; +one of those who have made the South a fame as far as her sons have +traveled. It was a new experience and destined to be a lasting one. + +Its effect was in the end striking and happy. Gradually he roused +himself from the cynical lethargy into which he was sinking and began to +look about him. After all he had much to live for, and with peace came +new manhood. He would fight for the woman who had faith in him--such a +fight as man never dared before. He looked up to find Virdow smiling on +him through his tears. + +He stood up. "I am going to make a statement now that will surprise and +shock you, but the reason will be sufficient. First I ask that you +promise me, as though we stood before our Creator, a witness, that never +in this life nor the next, if consciousness of this goes with you, will +you betray by word or deed anything of what you hear from my lips +to-night. I do not feel any uneasiness, but promise." + +"I promise," said Virdow, simply, "but if it distresses you, if you feel +bound to me--" + +"On the contrary, the reason is selfish entirely. I tell you because the +possession of this matter is destroying my ability to judge fairly; +because I want help and believe you are the only being in the world who +can give it." He spoke earnestly and pathetically. "Without it, I shall +become--a wreck." Then Virdow seized the speaker's hand. + +"Go on, Edward. All the help that Virdow can give is yours in advance." + +Edward related to him the causes that led up to the duel--the political +campaign, the publication of Royson's card, and the history of the +challenge. + +"You call me Edward," he said; "the world knows me and I know myself as +Edward Morgan. I have no evidence whatever to believe myself entitled to +bear the name. All the evidence I have points to the fact that it was +bestowed upon me as was my fortune itself--in pity. The mystery that +overspreads me envelops Gerald also. But fate has left him superior to +misfortune." + +"It has already done for him what you fear for yourself--it has wrecked +his life, if not his mind!" The professor spoke the words sadly and +gently, looking into the night through the open window. + +Edward turned toward him in wonder. + +"I am sure. Listen and I will tell you why. To me it seems fatal to him, +but for you there is consolation." Graphically he described then the +events that had transpired during the few days of his stay at Ilexhurst; +his quick perception that the mind of Gerald was working feverishly, +furiously, and upon defined lines to some end; that something haunted +and depressed him. His secret was revealed in his conduct upon the death +of Rita. + +"It is plain," said Virdow finally, "that this thought--this +uncertainty--which has haunted you for weeks, has been wearing upon him +since childhood. Of the events that preceded it I have little or no +information." + +Edward, thrilled to the heart by this recital and the fact to which it +seemed to point, walked the floor greatly agitated. Presently he said: + +"Of these you shall judge also." He took from the desk in the adjoining +room the fragmentary story and read it. "This," he said, as he saw the +face of the old man beam with intelligence, "is confirmed as an incident +in the life of Gerald or myself; in fact, the beginning of life." He +gave the history of the fragmentary story and of Rita's confession. + +"By this evidence," he went on, "I was led to believe that the woman +erred in the recognition of her own child; that I am in fact that child +and that Gerald is the son of Marion. This in her last breath she seemed +to deny, for when I begged her to testify upon it, as before her God, +and asked the question direct, she cried out: 'They lied!' In this it +seems to me that her heart went back to its secret belief and that in +the supreme moment she affirmed forever his nativity. Were this all I +confess I would be satisfied, but there is a fatal fact to come!" He +took from his pocket the package prepared for Gen. Evan, and tore from +it the picture of Marion. + +"Now," he exclaimed excitedly, "as between the two of us, how can this +woman be other than the mother of Gerald Morgan? And, if I could be +mistaken as to the resemblance, how could her father fall into my error? +For I swear to you that on the night he bent over the sleeping man he +saw upon the pillow the face of his wife and daughter blended in those +features!" Virdow was looking intently upon the picture. + +"Softly, softly," he said, shaking his head; "it is a true likeness, but +it does not prove anything. Family likeness descends only surely by +profiles. If we could see her profile, but this! There is no reason why +the child of Rita should not resemble another. It would depend upon the +impression, the interest, the circumstances of birth, of associations--" +He paused. "Describe to me again the mind picture which Gerald under the +spell of music sketched--give it exactly." Edward gave it in detail. + +"That," said Virdow, "was the scene flashed upon the woman who gazed +from the arch. It seems impossible for it to have descended to Gerald, +except by one of the two women there--the one to whom the man's back was +turned. Had this mental impression come from the other source it seems +to me he would have seen the face of that man, and if the impression was +vivid enough to descend from mother to child it would have had the +church for a background, in place of the arch, with storm-lashed trees +beyond. This is reasonable only when we suppose it possible that brain +pictures can be transmitted. As a man I am convinced. As a scientist I +say that it is not proved." + +Edward, every nerve strained to its utmost tension, every faculty of +mind engaged, devoured this brief analysis and conclusion. But more +proof was given! Over his face swept a shadow. + +"Poor Gerald! Poor Gerald!" he muttered. But he became conscious +presently that the face of Virdow wore a concerned look; there was +something to come. He could not resist the temptation to clear up the +last vestige of doubt if doubt could remain. + +"Tell me," he said, "what do you require to satisfy you that between the +two I am the son of Marion Evan?" + +"Two things," said Virdow, quickly. "First, proof that Rita was in no +way akin to the Evan family, for if she was in the remotest degree, the +similarity of profiles could be accounted for. Second, that your own and +the profile of Marion Evan were of the same angle. Satisfy me upon these +two points and you have nothing to fear." A feeling of weakness +overwhelmed Edward. The general had not seen in his face any likeness to +impress him. And yet, why his marked interest? The whole subject lay +open again. + +And Marion Evan! Where was he to obtain such proof? + +Virdow saw the struggle in his mind. + +"Leave nothing unturned," said Edward, "that one of us may live free of +doubt, and just now, God help me, it seems my duty to strive for him +first." + +"And these efforts--when--" + +"To-night! Let us descend." + +"We go first to the room of the nurse," said Virdow. "We shall begin +there." + +Edward led the way and with a lighted lamp they entered the room. The +search there was brief and uneventful. On the wall in a simple frame was +a portrait of John Morgan, drawn years before from memory by Gerald. It +was the face of the man known only to the two searchers as Abingdon, but +its presence there might be significant. + +Her furniture and possessions were simple. In her little box of trinkets +were found several envelopes addressed to her from Paris, one of them in +the handwriting of a man, the style of German. All were empty, the +letters having in all probability been destroyed. They, however, +constituted a clew, and Edward placed them in his pocket. In another +envelope was a child's golden curl, tied with a narrow black ribbon; and +there was a drawer full of broken toys. And that was all. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE FACE THAT CAME IN DREAMS. + + +Virdow was not a scientist in the strict sense of the term. He had been +a fairly good musician in youth and had advanced somewhat in art. He was +one of those modern scientists, who are not walled in by past +conclusions, but who, like Morse, leap forward from a vantage point and +build back to connect with old results. Early in life he had studied the +laws of vibration, until it seemed revealed to him that all forms, all +fancies, were born of it. Gradually as his beautiful demonstrations were +made and all art co-ordinated upon this law, he saw in dreams a +fulfillment of his hopes that in his age, in his life, might bloom the +fairest flower of science, a mind memory opened to mortal consciousness. + +Dreaming further along the lines of Wagner, it had come to him that the +key to this hidden, dumb and sleeping record of the mind was vibration; +that the strains of music which summon beautiful dreams to the minds of +men were magic wands lifting the vision of this past; not its immediate +past, but the past of ages; for in the brain of the subtle German was +firmly fixed the belief that the minds of men were in their last +analysis one and indivisible, and older than the molecules of physical +creation. + +He held triumphantly that "then shall you see clearly," was but one way +of saying "then shall you remember." + +To this man the mind picture which Gerald had drawn, the church, with +its tragic figures, came as a reward of generations of labor. He had +followed many a false trail and failed in hospital and asylum. In Gerald +he hoped for a sound, active brain, combined with the faculty of +expression in many languages and the finer power of art; an organism +sufficiently delicate to carry into that viewless vinculum between body +and soul, vibrations, rhymes and co-ordinations delicate enough to touch +a new consciousness and return its reply through organized form. He had +found these conditions perfect, and he felt that if failure was the +result, while still firmly fixed in his belief, never again would +opportunity of equal merit present itself. If in Gerald his theory +failed of demonstration, the mind's past would be, in his lifetime, +locked to his mortal consciousness. In brief he had formed the +conditions so long sought and upon these his life's hope was staked. + +Much of this he stated as they sat in the wing-room. Gerald lay upon the +divan when he began talking, lost in abstraction, but as the theory of +the German was gradually unfolded Edward saw him fix his bright eye upon +the speaker, saw him becoming restless and excited. When the explanation +ended he was walking the floor. + +"Experiments with frogs," he said, abruptly; "accidents to the human +brain and vivisection have proved the separateness of memory and +consciousness. But I shall do better; I shall give to the world a +complete picture descended from parent to child--an inherited brain +picture of which the mind is thoroughly conscious." His listeners waited +in breathless suspense; both knew to what he referred. "But," he added, +shaking his head, "that does not carry us out of the material world." + +His ready knowledge of this subject and its quick grasp of the +proposition astonished Virdow beyond expression. + +"Go on," he said, simply. + +"When that fusion of mind and matter occurs," said Gerald, positively; +"when the consciousness is put in touch with the mind's unconscious +memory there will be no pictures seen, no records read; we shall simply +broaden out, comprehend, understand, grasp, know! That is all! It will +not come to the world, but to individuals, and, lastly, it has already +come! Every so called original thought that dawns upon a human, every +intuitive conception of the truth, marks the point where mind yielded +something of a memory to human consciousness." + +The professor moved uneasily in his seat; both he and Edward were +overwhelmed with the surprise of the demonstration that behind the sad +environment of this being dwelt a keen, logical mind. The speaker paused +and smiled; his attention was not upon his company. + +"So," he said, softly, "come the song into the mind of the poet, so the +harmonies to the singer and so the combination of colors to the artist; +so the rounded periods of oratory and so the conception that makes +invention possible. No facts appear, because facts are the results of +laws, the proofs of truths. The mind-memory carries none of these; it +carries laws and the truth which interprets it all; and when men can +hold their consciousness to the touch of mind without a falling apart, +they will stand upon the plane of their Creator, because they will then +be fully conscious of the eternal laws and in harmony with them." + +"And you," said Virdow, greatly affected, "have you ever felt the union +of consciousness and mind-memory?" + +"Yes," he replied; "what I have said is the truth; for it came from an +inner consciousness without previous determination and intention. I am +right, and you know I am right!" Virdow shook his head. + +"I have hoped," he said, gently, "that in this mind-memory dwelt +pictures. We shall see, we shall see." Gerald turned away impatiently +and threw himself upon his couch. Presently in the silence which ensued +rose the solemn measure of Mendelssohn's heart-beat march from Edward's +violin. The strange, sad, depressing harmony filled the room; even +Virdow felt its wonderful power and sat mute and disturbed. Suddenly he +happened to gaze toward Gerald. He lay with ashen face and rigid eyes +fixed upon the ceiling, to all appearances a corpse. Virdow bounded +forward and snatched the bow from Edward's hand. + +"Stop!" he cried; "for his sake stop, or you will kill him!" + +They dragged the inanimate form to the window and bathed the face. A low +moan escaped the young man, and then a gleam of intelligence came into +his eyes. He tried to speak, but without success; an expression of +surprise and distress came upon his face as he rose to his feet. For a +moment he stood gasping, but presently his breath came normally. + +"Temporary aphasia," he said, in a low tone. Going to the easel he drew +rapidly the picture of a woman kneeling above the prostrate form of +another, and stood contemplating it in silence. Edward and Virdow came +to his side, the latter pale with excitement. Gerald did not notice +them. Only the back of the kneeling woman was shown, but the face of the +other was distinct, calm and beautiful. It was the girl in the small +picture. + +"That face--that face," he whispered. "Alas! I see it only as my +ancestors saw it." He resumed his lounge dejectedly. + +"You have seen it before, then?" said Virdow, earnestly. + +"Before! In my dreams from childhood! It is a face associated with me +always. In the night, when the wind blows, I hear a voice calling +Gerald, and this vision comes. Shall I tell you a secret--" His voice +had become lower and now was inaudible. Placing his hand upon the white +wrist, Virdow said: + +"He sleeps; it is well. Come away, my young friend; I have learned much, +but the experience might have been dearly bought. Sometime I will +explain." Noiselessly they withdrew to Edward's room. Edward was +depressed. + +"You have gained, but not I," he said. "The back of the kneeling woman +was toward him." + +"Wait," said Virdow; "all things cannot be learned in a night. We do not +know who witnessed that scene." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +THE THREE PICTURES. + + +Virdow had arisen and been to town when Edward made his appearance late +in the morning. After tossing on his pillow all night, at daylight he +had fallen into a long, dreamless sleep. + +Gerald was looking on, and the professor was arranging an experimental +apparatus of some kind. He had suspended a metal drum from the arch of +the glass-room by steel wires, and over the upper end of the drum had +drawn tightly a sheet of rubber obtained from a toy balloon +manufacturer. In the base of this drum he inserted a hollow stem of tin, +one end of which was flared like a trumpet. The whole machine when +completed presented the appearance of a gigantic pipe; the mouthpiece +enlarged. When Edward came in the German was spreading upon the rubber +surface of the drum an almost impalpable powder, taken from one of the +iron nodules which lay about on the surrounding hills and slightly +moistened. + +"I have been explaining to Gerald," said Virdow, cheerily, "some of my +bases for hopes that vibration is the medium through which to effect +that ether wherein floats what men call the mind, and am getting ready +to show the co-ordinations of force and increasing steadily and evenly. +Try what you Americans call 'A' in the middle register and remember that +you have before you a detective that will catch your slightest error." +He was closing doors and openings as he spoke. + +Edward obeyed. Placing his mouth near the trumpet opening he began. The +simple note, prolonged, rang out in the silent room, increasing in +strength to a certain point and ending abruptly. Then was seen a +marvelous thing; animated, the composition upon the disk rushed to the +exact center and then tremulously began to take definite shape. A little +medallion appeared, surrounded by minute dots, and from these little +tongues ran outward. The note died away, and only the breathing of the +eager watchers was heard. Before them in bas-relief was a red daisy, as +perfect, aye, more nearly perfect, than art could supply. Gerald after a +moment turned his head and seemed lost in thought. + +"From that we might infer," said Virdow, "that the daisy is the 'A' note +of the world; that of it is born all the daisy class of flowers, from +the sunflower down--all vibrations of a standard." + +Again and again the experiment was repeated, with the same result. + +"Now try 'C,'" said the German, and Edward obeyed. Again the mass rushed +together, but this time it spread into the form of a pansy. And then +with other notes came fern shapes, trees and figures that resembled the +scale armor of fish. And finally, from a softly sounded and prolonged +note, a perfect serpent in coils appeared, with every ring distinctly +marked. This form was varied by repetition to shells and cornucopias. + +So through the musical scale went the experiments, each yielding a new +and distinct form where the notes differed. Virdow enjoyed the wonder of +Edward and the calm concentration of Gerald. He continued: + +"Thus runs the scale in colors; each of the seven--red, orange, yellow, +green, blue, indigo and violet--is a note, and as there are notes in +music that harmonize, so in colors there are the same notes, the hues of +which blend harmoniously. What have they to do with the mind memory? +This: As a certain number of vibrations called to life in music the +shell, in light the color, and in music the note, so once found will +certain notes, or more likely their co-ordinations, awaken the memories +of the mind, since infallibly by vibrations were they first born. + +"This is the border land of speculation, you think, and you are partly +correct. What vibration could have fixed the form of the daisy and the +shape we have found in nature is uncertain, but remember that the earth +swings in a hollow drum of air as resonant and infinitely more sensitive +than rubber; and the brain--there is a philosophic necessity for the +shape of a man's head." + +"If," said Gerald, "you had said these vibrations awakened the memories +of the brain instead of the mind, I could have agreed with you. Yours +are on the order of the London experiments. I am familiar with them, but +only through reading." Again Virdow wondered, but he continued: + +"The powers of vibration are not understood--in fact, only dreamed of. +Only one man in the world, your Keely, has appreciated its +possibilities, and he is involved in the herculean effort to harness it +to modern machinery. It was vibration simply that affected Gerald so +deeply last night; a rhythm co-ordinating with his heart. I have seen +vast audiences--and you have, too, Edward--painfully depressed by that +dangerous experiment of Mendelssohn; for the heart, like a clock, will +seek to adjust itself to rhythms. Your tempo was less than seventy-two +to the minute; Gerald's delicate heart caught time and the brain lacked +blood. A quick march would have sent the blood faster and brought +exhilaration. Under the influence of march time men cheer and do deeds +of valor that they would not otherwise attempt, though the measure is +sounded only upon a drum; but when to this time is added a second, a +third and a fourth rhythm, and the harmonies of tone against tone, color +against color, in perfect co-ordination, they are no longer creatures of +reason, but heroes. The whole matter is subject to scientific +demonstration. + +"But back to this 'heart-beat march.' The whole nerve system of man +since the infancy of the race has been subject to the rhythm of the +heart, every atom of the human body is attuned to it; for while length +of life, breadth of shoulders, chest measure and stature have changed +since the days of Adam we have no evidence that the solemn measure of +the heart, sending its seventy-two waves against all the minute +divisions of the human machine, has ever varied in the normal man. +Lessen it, as on last night, and the result is distressing. And as you +increase it, or substitute for it vibrations more rapid against those +myriad nerves, you exhilarate or intoxicate. + +"But has any one ever sent the vibration into that 'viewless vinculum' +and awakened the hidden mind? As our young friend testifies, yes! There +have been times when these lower co-ordinations of song and melodies +have made by a momentary link mind and matter one, and of these times +are born the world's greatest treasures--jewels wrested from the hills +of eternity! What has been done by chance, science should do by rule." + +Gerald had listened, with an attention not hoped for, but the conclusion +was anticipated in his quick mind. Busy with his portfolio, he did not +attend, but upon the professor's conclusion he turned with a picture in +his hand. It was the drawing of the previous night. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"A mind picture, possibly," said Virdow. + +"You mean by that a picture never impressed upon the brain, but living +within the past experience of the mind?" + +"Exactly." + +"And I say it is simply a brain picture transmitted to me by heredity." + +"I deny nothing; all things are possible. But by whom? One of those +women?" Gerald started violently and looked suspiciously upon his +questioner. Virdow's face betrayed nothing. + +"I do not know," said Gerald; "you have gaps in your theory, and this is +the gap in mine. Neither of these women could have seen this picture; +there must have been a third person." Virdow smiled and nodded his head. + +"And if there was a third person he is my missing witness. From him +comes your vision--a true mind picture." + +"And this?" Gerald drew from the folio a woman's face--the face that +Edward had shown, but idealized and etherealized. "From whom comes +this?" cried the young man with growing excitement. "For I swear to you +that I have never, except in dreams, beheld it, no tongue has described +it! It is mine by memory alone, not plucked from subtle ether by a +wandering mind, but from the walls of memory alone. Tell me." Virdow +shook his head; he was silent for fear of the excitement. Gerald came +and stood by him with the two pictures; his voice was strained and +impassioned, and his tones just audible: + +"The face in this and the sleeper's face in this are the same; if you +were on the stand to answer for a friend's life would you say of me, +this man descends from the kneeling woman?" Virdow looked upon him +unflinchingly. + +"I would answer, as by my belief in God's creation, that by this +testimony you descend from neither, for the brain that held those +pictures could belong to neither woman. One could not hold an +etherealized picture of her own face, nor one a true likeness of her own +back." Gerald replaced the sheets. + +"You have told me what I knew," he said; "and yet--from one of them I am +descended, and the pictures are true!" He took his hat and boat paddle +and left them abruptly. The portfolio stood open. Virdow went to close +it, but there was a third drawing dimly visible. Idly he drew it forth. + +It was the picture of a white seagull and above it was an arch; beyond +were the bending trees of the first picture. Both men studied it +curiously, but with varying emotions. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +"HOME SWEET HOME." + + +Edward approached the hall that afternoon with misgivings. A charge had +been brought against him, denied, and the denial defended with his life; +but the charge was not disproved. And in this was the defect of the +"code of honor." It died not because of its bloodiness but of +inadequacy. A correct aim could not be a satisfactory substitute for +good character nor good morals. + +Was it his duty to furnish proof to his title to the name of gentleman? +Or could he afford to look the world in the face with disdain and hold +himself above suspicion? The latter course was really his only choice. +He had no proofs. + +This would do for the world at large, but among intimates would it +suffice? He knew that nowhere in the world is the hearthstone more +sacred than in the south, and how long would his welcome last, even at +The Hall, with his past unexplained? He would see! The first hesitancy +of host or hostess, and he would be self-banished! + +There was really no reason why he should remain in America; agents could +transact what little business was his and look after Gerald's affairs. +Nothing had changed within him; he was the same Edward Morgan, with the +same capacities for enjoyment. + +But something had changed. He felt it with the mere thought of absence. +What was it? As in answer to his mental question, there came behind him +the quick breath of a horse and turning he beheld Mary. She smiled in +response to his bow. The next instant he had descended from his buggy +and was waiting. + +"May I ride with you?" Again the face of the girl lighted with pleasure. + +"Of course. Get down, Jerry, and change places with Mr. Morgan." Jerry +made haste to obey. "Now, drop behind," she said to him, as Edward +seated himself by her side. + +"You see I have accepted your invitation," he began, "only I did not +come as soon as I wished to, or I would have answered your kind note at +once in person. All are well, I trust?" Her face clouded. + +"No. Mamma has become entirely blind--probably for all time. I have just +been to telegraph Dr. Campbell to come to us. We will know to-morrow." +He was greatly distressed. + +"My visit is inopportune--I will turn back. No, I was going from The +Hall to the general's; I can keep straight on." + +"Indeed, you shall not, Mr. Morgan. Mamma is bearing up bravely, and you +can help so much to divert her mind if you tell her of your travels." He +assented readily. It was a novel sensation to find himself useful. + +"To-morrow morning," she continued, "perhaps I can find time to go to +the general's--if you really want to go--" + +"I do," he said. "My German friend, Virdow, has a theory he wishes to +demonstrate and has asked me to find the dominate tones in a waterfall; +I remembered the general's little cascade, and owing him a visit am +going to discharge both duties. What a grand old man the general is!" + +"Oh, indeed, yes. You do not know him, Mr. Morgan. If you could have +seen how he entered into your quarrel--" she blushed and hesitated. "Oh, +what an outrage was that affair!" + +"It is past, Miss Montjoy; think no more upon it. It was I who cost your +father his seat in Congress. That is the lamentable feature." + +"That is nothing," said the young girl, "compared with the mortification +and peril forced upon you. But you had friends--more than you dreamed +of. The general says that the form of your note to Mr. Royson saved you +a grave complication." + +"You mean that I am indebted to Mr. Barksdale for that?" + +"Yes. I love Mr. Barksdale; he is so manly and noble." Edward smiled +upon her; he was not jealous of that kind of love. + +"He is certainly a fine character--the best product of the new south, I +take it. I have neglected to thank him for his good offices. I shall +call upon him when I return." + +"And," she said in a low tone, "of course you will assure the general of +your gratitude to-morrow. You owe him more than you suspect. I would not +have you fail there." + +"And why would you dislike to have me fail?" She blushed furiously when +she realized how she had become involved, but she met his questioning +gaze bravely. + +"You forget that I introduced you as my friend, and one does not like +for friends to show up in a bad light." + +He fell into moody silence, from which with difficulty only he could +bring himself to reply to questions as she led the way from personal +grounds. The Hall saved him from absolute disgrace. + +In the darkened sitting-room was Mrs. Montjoy when the girl and the +young man entered. She lifted her bandaged eyes to the door as she heard +their voices in the hall. + +"Mamma, here is Mr. Morgan," said Mary. The family had instinctively +agreed upon a cheerful tone; the great oculist was coming; it was but a +question of time when blessed sight would return again. The colonel +raised himself from the lounge where he had been dozing and came +forward. Edward could not detect in his grave courtesy the slightest +deviation of manner. He welcomed him smilingly and inquired of Gerald. +And then, continuing into the room, the young man took the soft hand of +the elder woman. She placed the other on his and said with that singular +disregard of words peculiar to the blind: + +"I am glad to see you Mr. Morgan. We have been so distressed about you. +I spent a wretched day and night thinking of your worry and danger." + +"They are all over now, madam; but it is pleasant to know that my +friends were holding me up all the time. Naturally I was somewhat +lonesome," he said, forcing a smile, "until the general came to my +rescue." Then recollecting himself, he added: "But those hours were as +nothing to this, madam. You cannot understand how distressed I was to +learn, as I have just now, of your illness." She patted his hand +affectionately, after the manner of old ladies. + +"Oh, yes, I can. Mary has told us of your offer to take us to Paris on +that account. I am sure sometimes that one's misfortunes fall heaviest +upon friends." + +"It is not too late," he said, earnestly. "If the colonel will keep +house and trust you with me, it is not too late. Really, I am almost +obliged to visit Paris soon, and if--" he turned to the colonel at a +loss for words. That gentleman had passed his hand over his forehead and +was looking away. + +"You are more than kind, my young friend," he said, sadly: "more than +kind. We will see Campbell. If it is necessary Mrs. Montjoy will go to +Paris." + +Mary had been a silent witness of the little scene. She turned away to +hide her emotion, fearful that her voice, if she spoke, would betray +her. The Duchess came in and climbed to grandma's lap and wound her arms +around the little woman. The colonel had resumed his seat when Mary +brought in from the hall the precious violin and laid it upon the piano, +waiting there until the conversation lagged. + +"Mamma," she said, then, "Mr. Morgan has his violin; he was on his way +through here to the general's when I intercepted him. I know you can +rely upon him to play for us." + +"As much and as often as desired," said Edward heartily. "I have a +friend at home, an old professor with whom I studied in Germany, who is +engaged in some experiments with vibration, and he has assigned me +rather a novel task--that is, I am to go over to the general's and +determine the tone of a waterfall, for everything has its tone--your +window glass, your walking stick, even--and these will respond to the +vibrations which make that tone. Young memories are born of vibration, +and old airs bring back old thoughts." He arose and took the violin as +he talked. + +If the presence of the silent sufferer was not sufficient to touch his +heart, there were the brown, smiling eyes of the girl whose fingers met +his as he took the instrument. He played as never before. Something went +from him into the ripe, resonant instrument, something that even Virdow +could not have explained, and through the simple melodies he chose, +affected his hearers deeply. Was it the loneliness of the man speaking +to the loneliness of the silent woman, whose bandaged forehead rested +upon one blue-veined hand? Or was it a new spring opened up by the +breath, the floating hair, the smooth contour of cheeks, the melting +depths of brown eyes, the divine sympathy of the girl who played his +accompaniments? + +All the old music of the blind woman's girlhood had been carefully bound +and preserved, as should all old music be when it has become a part of +our lives; and as this man with his subtle power awoke upon that +marvelous instrument the older melodies he gave life to the dreams of +her girlish heart. Just so had she played them--if not so true, yet +feelingly. By her side had stood a gallant black-haired youth, looking +down into her face, reading more in her upturned eyes than her tongue +had ever uttered; eyes then liquid and dark with the light of love +beaming from their depths; alas, to beam now no more forever! Love must +find another speech. She reached out her hand and in eloquent silence it +was taken. + +Silence drew them all back to earth. But behind the players, an old +man's face was bent upon the smooth soft hand of the woman, and eyes +that must some day see for both of them, left their tender tribute. + +Edward Morgan linked himself to others in that hour with strands +stronger than steel. Even the little Duchess felt the charm and power of +that violin in the hands of the artist. Wondering, she came to him and +stretched up her little hands. He took her upon his knee then, and, +holding the instrument under her chin and her hands in his, awoke a +little lullaby that had impressed him. As he sang the words, the girl +smiled into the faces of the company. + +"Look, gamma," she said gleefully; "look!" And she, lifting her face, +said gently: + +"Yes, dear; gamma is looking." Mary's face was quickly averted; the +hands of the colonel tightened upon the hand he held. + +The Duchess had learned to sing "Rockaby Baby" and now she lifted her +thin, piping voice, the player readily following, and sang sweetly all +the verses she could remember. Mary took her in her arms when tired, and +Edward let the strains run on slower and softer. The eyes of the little +one drooped wearily, and then as the player, his gaze fixed upon the +little scene, drifted away into "Home, Sweet Home," they closed in +sleep. The blind woman still sat with her hand in her husband's, his +head bent forward until his forehead rested upon it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE RAINBOW IN THE MIST. + + +Mary had lighted his room and handed him the lamp; "sweet sleep and +pleasant dreams," she had said, gravely bowing to him as she withdrew--a +family custom, as he had afterward learned. But the sleep was not sweet +nor the dreams pleasant. Excited and disturbed he dozed away the hours +and was glad when the plantation bell rang its early summons. He dressed +and made his way to the veranda, whence he wandered over the flower +garden, intercepting the colonel, who was about to take his morning look +about. Courteously leaving his horse at the gate that gentleman went on +foot with him. It was Edward's first experience on a plantation and he +viewed with lively interest the beginning of the day's labor. Cotton was +opening and numbers of negroes, old and young, were assembling with +baskets and sacks or moving out with a show of industry, for, as it was +explained to him, it is easy to get them early started in cotton-picking +time, as the work is done by the hundred pounds and the morning dew +counts for a great deal. "Many people deduct for that," said Montjoy, +"but I prefer not to. Lazy and trifling as he is, the negro is but +poorly paid." + +"But," said Edward, laughing, "you do not sell the dew, I suppose?" + +"No. Generally it evaporates, but if it does not the warehouse deducts +for it." + +"I noticed at one place on the way south that the people were using +wheel implements, do you not find them profitable?" The colonel pointed +to a shed under which were a number of cultivators, revolving plows, +mowing machines and a dirt turner. "I do not, the negro cannot keep +awake on the cultivator and the points get into the furrows and so throw +out the cotton and corn that they were supposed to cultivate. Somehow +they never could learn to use the levers at the right place, with the +revolving plow, and they wear its axle off. They did no better with the +mower; they seemed to have an idea that it would cut anything from +blades of grass up to a pine stump, and it wouldn't." + +"The disk harrow," he continued laughingly, "was broken in a curious +way. I sent a hand out to harrow in some peas. He rode along all right +to the field and then deliberately wedged the disks to keep them from +revolving, not understanding the principle. I sometimes think that they +are a little jealous of these machines and do not want them to work +well." + +"You seem to have a great many old negroes." + +"Too many; too many," he said, sadly; "but what can be done? These +people have been with me all my life and I can't turn them adrift in +their old age. And the men seem bent upon keeping married," he added, +good-naturedly. "When the old wives die they get new and young ones, and +then comes extravagant living again." + +"And you have them all to support?" + +"Of course. The men do a little chopping and cotton-picking, but not +enough to pay for the living of themselves and families. What is it, +Nancy?" + +"Pa says please send him some meal and meat. He ain't had er mouthful in +four days." The speaker was a little negro girl. "Go, see your young +mistress. That is a specimen," said the old gentleman, half-laughing, +half-frowning. "Four days! He would have been dead the second! Our +system does not suit the new order of things. It seems to me the main +trouble is in the currency. Our values have all been upset by +legislation. Silver ought never have been demonetized; it was fatal, +sir. And then the tariff." + +"Is not overproduction a factor, Colonel? I read that your last crops of +cotton were enormous." + +"Possibly so, but the world has to have cotton, and an organization +would make it buy at our own prices. There are enormous variations, of +course, we can't figure in advance, and whenever a low price rules, the +country is broke. The result is the loan associations and cotton factors +are about to own us." + +The two men returned to find Mary with the pigeons upon her shoulders +and a flock of poultry begging at her feet. + +"You are going with me to the general's," he said, pleadingly, as he +stood by her. She shook her head. + +"I suppose not this time; mamma needs me." But at the breakfast table, +when he renewed the subject, that lady from her little side table said +promptly: "Yes." Mary needed the exercise and diversion, and then there +was a little mending to be done for the old general. He always saved it +for her. It was his whim. + +So they started in Edward's buggy, riding in silence until he said +abruptly: + +"I am persevering, Miss Montjoy, as you will some day find out, and I am +counting upon your help." + +"In what?" She was puzzled by his manner. + +"In getting Moreau in Paris to look into the little mamma's eyes." She +reflected a moment. + +"But Dr. Campbell is coming." + +"It is through him I going to accomplish my purpose; he must send her to +Paris." + +"But," she said, sadly, "we can't afford it. Norton could arrange it, +but papa would not be willing to incur such a debt for him." + +"His son--her son!" Edward showed his surprise very plainly. + +"You do not understand. Norton has a family; neither papa nor mamma +would borrow from him, although he would be glad to do anything in the +world he could. And there is Annie----" she stopped. Edward saw the +difficulty. + +"Would your father accept a loan from me?" She flushed painfully. + +"I think not, Mr. Morgan. He could hardly borrow money of his guest." + +"But I will not be his guest, and it will be a simple business +transaction. Will you help me?" She was silent. + +"It is very hard, very hard," she said, and tears stood in her eyes. +"Hard to have mamma's chances hang upon such a necessity." + +"Supposing I go to your father and say: 'This thing is necessary and +must be done. I have money to invest at 5 per cent. and am going to +Paris. If you will secure me with a mortgage upon this place for the +necessary amount I will pay all expenses and take charge of your wife +and daughter.' Would it offend him?" + +"He could not be offended by such generosity, but it would distress +him--the necessity." + +"That should not count in the matter," he said, gravely. "He is already +distressed. And what is all this to a woman's eyesight?" + +"How am I to help?" she asked after a while. + +"The objection will be chiefly upon your account, I am afraid," he said, +after reflection. "You will have to waive everything and second my +efforts. That will settle it." She did not promise, but seemed lost in +thought. When she spoke again it was upon other things. + +"Ah, truant!" cried the general, seeing her ascending the steps and +coming forward, "here you are at last. How are you, Morgan? Sit down, +both of you. Mary," he said, looking at her sternly, "if you neglect me +this way again I shall go off and marry a grass widow. Do you hear me, +miss? Look at this collar." He pointed dramatically to the offending +article; one of the Byronic affairs, to which the old south clings +affectionately, and which as affectionately clings to the garment it is +supposed to adorn, since it is a part of it. "I have buttoned that not +less than a dozen times to-day." She laughed and, going in, presently +returned with thread and needle and sitting upon his knee restored the +buttonhole to its proper size. Then she surveyed him a moment. + +"Why haven't you been over to see us?" + +"Because----" + +"You will have to give the grass widow a better excuse than that. 'Tis a +woman's answer. But here is Mr. Morgan, come to see if he can catch the +tune your waterfall plays--if you have no objection." Edward explained +the situation. + +"Go with him, Mary. I think the waterfall plays a better tune to a man +when there is a pretty girl around." She playfully stopped his mouth and +then darted into the house. + +"General," said Edward, earnestly, "I have not written to you. I +preferred to come in person to express anew my thanks and appreciation +of your kindness in my recent trial. The time may come--" + +"Nonsense, my boy; we take these things for granted here in the south. +If you are indebted to anybody it is to the messenger who brought me the +news of your predicament, put me on horseback and sent me hurrying off +in the night to town for the first time in twenty years." + +"And who could have done that?" Edward asked, overwhelmed with emotion. +"From whom?" + +"From nobody. She summed up the situation, got behind the little mare +and came over here in the night. Morgan, that is the rarest girl in +Georgia. Take care, sir; take care, sir." He was getting himself +indignant over some contingency when the object of his eulogium +appeared. + +"Now, General, you are telling tales on me." + +"Am I? Ask Morgan. I'd swear on a stack of Bibles as high as yonder pine +I have not mentioned your name." + +"Well, it is a wonder. Come on, Mr. Morgan." + +The old man watched them as they picked their way through the hedge and +concluded his interrupted remark: "If you break that loyal heart--if you +bring a tear to those brown eyes, you will meet a different man from +Royson." But he drove the thought away while he looked affectionately +after the pair. + +Down came the little stream, with an emphasis and noise disproportioned +to its size, the cause being, as Edward guessed, the distance of the +fall and the fact that the rock on which it struck was not a solid +foundation, but rested above a cavity. Mary waited while he listened, +turning away to pluck a flower and to catch in the falling mist the +colors of the rainbow. But as Edward stood, over him came a flood of +thoughts; for the air was full of a weird melody, the overtone of one +great chord that thrilled him to the heart. As in a dream he saw her +standing there, the blue skies and towering trees above her, a bit of +light in a desert of solitude. Near, but separated from him by an +infinite gulf. "Forever! Forever!" all else was blotted out. + +She saw on his face the white desperation she had noticed once before. + +"You have found it," she said. "What is the tone?" + +"Despair," he answered, sadly. "It can mean nothing else." + +"And yet," she said, a new thought animating her mobile face, as she +pointed into the mist above, "over it hangs the rainbow." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE HAND OF SCIENCE. + + +A feeling of apprehension and solemnity pervaded the hall when at last +the old family coach deposited its single occupant, Dr. Campbell, at the +gate. The colonel stood at the top of the steps to welcome him. Edward +and Mary were waiting in the sitting-room. + +The famous practitioner, a tall, shapely figure, entered, and as he +removed his glasses he brought sunshine into the room, with his cheery +voice and confident manner. To Mrs. Montjoy he said: + +"I came as soon as the telegram was received. Anxiety and loss of rest +in cases like yours are exceedingly undesirable. It is better to be +informed--even of the worst. Before we discuss this matter, come to the +window and let me examine the eye, please." He was assisting her as he +spoke. He carefully studied the condition of the now inflamed and +sightless organ, and then replaced the bandage. + +"It is glaucoma," he said, briefly. "You will remember that I feared it +when we fitted the glasses some years ago. The slowness of its advance +is due to the care you have taken. If you are willing I would prefer to +operate at once." All were waiting in painful silence. The brave woman +replied: "Whenever you are ready I am," and resumed her knitting. He had +been deliberate in every word and action, but the occasion was already +robbed of its terrors, so potent are confidence, decision and action. +Edward was introduced and would have taken his leave, but the oculist +detained him. + +"I shall probably need you," he said, "and will be obliged if you +remain. The operation is very simple." + +The room was soon prepared; a window was thrown open, a lounge drawn +under it and bandages prepared. Mary, pale with emotion, when the +slender form of her mother was stretched upon the lounge hurriedly +withdrew. The colonel seated himself and turned away his face. There was +no chloroform, no lecture. With the simplicity of of a child at play, +the great man went to work. Turning up the eyelid, he dropped upon the +cornea a little cocaine, and selecting a minute scalpel from his case, +with two swift, even motions cut downward from the center of the eye and +then from the same starting point at right angles. The incisions +extended no deeper than the transparent epidermis of the organ. +Skillfully turning up the angle of this, he exposed a thin, white +growth--a minute cloud it seemed to Edward. + +"Another drop of cocaine, please," the pleasant voice of the oculist +recalled him, and upon the exposed point he let fall from the dropper +the liquid. Lifting the little cloud with keen pinchers, the operator +removed it, restored the thin epidermis to its place, touched it again +with cocaine, and replaced the bandage. The strain of long hours was +ended; he had not been in the house thirty minutes. + +"I felt but the scratch of a needle," said the patient; "it is indeed +ended?" + +"All over," he said, cheerfully. He then wrote out a prescription and +directions for dressing, to be given to the family physician. Mary was +already by her mother's side, holding and patting her hand. + +The famous man was an old friend of the family, and now entered into a +cheerful discussion of former times and mutual acquaintances. The little +boy had entered, and somehow had got into his lap, where all children +usually got who came under his spell. While talking on other subjects he +turned down the little fellow's lids. + +"I see granulation here, colonel. Attend to it at once. I will leave a +prescription." And then with a few words of encouragement, he went off +to the porch to smoke. + +After dinner the conversation came back to the patient. + +"She will regain her vision this time," said Dr. Campbell, "but the +disease can only be arrested; it will return. The next time it will do +no good to operate. It is better to know these things and prepare for +them." The silence was broken by Edward. + +"Are you so sure of this, doctor, that you would advise against further +consultation? In Paris, for instance, is Moreau. In your opinion, is +there the slightest grounds for his disagreeing with you?" + +"In my opinion, no. But my opinion never extends to the point of +neglecting any means open to us. Were I afflicted with this disease I +would consult everybody within reach who had had experience." Edward +glanced in triumph at Mary. Dr. Campbell continued: + +"I would be very glad if it were possible for Mrs. Montjoy to see Moreau +about the left eye. You will remember that I expressed a doubt as to the +hopelessness of restoring that one when it was lost. It was not affected +with glaucoma; there is a bare possibility that something might be done +for it with success. If the disease returns upon the right eye, the +question of operating upon the other might then come up again." Edward +waited a moment and then continued his questions: + +"Do you not think a sea voyage would be beneficial, doctor?" + +"Undoubtedly, if she is protected from the glare and dust while ashore. +We can only look to building up her general health now." Edward turned +away, with throbbing pulses. + +"But," continued the doctor, "of course nothing of this sort should be +attempted until the eye is perfectly well again; say in ten days or two +weeks." Mary sat with bowed head. She did not see why Dr. Campbell arose +presently and walked to where Edward was standing. She looked upon them +there. Edward was talking with eager face and the other studying him +through his glasses. But somehow she connected his parting words with +that short interview. + +"And about the sea voyage and Moreau, colonel; I do not know that I +ought to advise you, but I shall be glad if you find it convenient to +arrange that, and will look to you to have Moreau send me a written +report. Good-bye." But Edward stopped him. + +"I am going back directly, doctor, and can take you and the carriage +need not return again. I will keep you waiting a few moments only." He +drew Col. Montjoy aside and they walked to the rear veranda. + +"Colonel," he said, earnestly, "I want to make you an offer, and I do it +with hesitancy only because I am afraid you cannot understand me +thoroughly upon such short acquaintance. I believe firmly in this trip +and want you to let me help you bring it about. Without having +interested myself in your affairs, I am assured that you stand upon the +footing of the majority of southerners whose fortunes were staked upon +the Confederacy, and that just now it would inconvenience you greatly to +meet the expense of this experience. I want you to let me take the place +of John Morgan and do just as he would have done in this +situation--advance you the necessary money upon your own terms." As he +entered upon the subject the old gentleman looked away from him, and as +he proceeded Edward could see that he was deeply affected. He extended +his hand impulsively to the young man at last and shook it warmly. Tears +had gathered in his eyes. Edward continued: + +"I appreciate what you would say, Colonel; you think it too much for a +comparative stranger to offer, or for you to accept, but the matter is +not one of your choosing. The fortunes of war have brought about the +difficulty, and that is all. You have risked your all on that issue and +have lost. You cannot risk the welfare of your wife upon an issue of +pride. You must accept. Go to Gen. Evan, he will tell you so." + +"I cannot consider the offer, my young friend, in any other than a +business way. Your generosity has already put us under obligations we +can never pay and has only brought you mortification." + +"Not so," was the reply. "In your house I have known the first home +feeling I ever experienced. Colonel, don't oppose me in this. If you +wish to call it business, give it that term." + +"Yours will be the fourth mortgage on this place; I hesitate to offer +it. The hall is already pledged for $15,000." + +"It is amply sufficient." + +"I will consider the matter, Mr. Morgan," he said after a long silence. +"I will consider it and consult Evan. I do not see my way clear to +accept your offer, but whether or not, my young friend"--putting his arm +over the other's shoulder, his voice trembling--"whether I do or not you +have in making it done me an honor and a favor that I will remember for +life. It is worth something to meet a man now and then who is worthy to +have lived in nobler times. God bless you--and now you must excuse me." +He turned away abruptly. Thrilled by his tone and words, Edward went to +the front. As he shook hands with Mary he said: + +"I cannot tell yet. But he cannot refuse. There is no escape for him." + +At the depot in the city the doctor said: "Do not count too hopefully +upon Paris, my young friend. There is a chance, but in my opinion the +greatest good that can be achieved is for the patient to store in memory +scenes upon which in other days she may dwell with pleasure. Keep this +in mind and be governed accordingly." He climbed aboard the train and +waved adieu. + +Edward was leaving the depot when he overtook Barksdale. Putting his +buggy in the care of a boy, he walked on with the railroader at his +request to the club. Barksdale took him into a private room and over a +choice cigar Edward gave him all the particulars of the duel and then +expressed his grateful acknowledgments for the friendly services +rendered him. + +"I am assured by Gen. Evan," he said, "that had my demand been made in a +different form I might have been seriously embarrassed." + +"Royson depended upon the Montjoys to get him out of the affair; he had +no idea of fighting." + +"But how could the Montjoys have helped him?" + +"They could have appealed to him to withdraw the charges he had made, +and he would have done so because the information came really from a +member of the Montjoy family. I do not think you will need to ask her +name. I mention it to you because you should be informed." Edward +comprehended his meaning at once. Greatly agitated, he exclaimed: + +"But what object could she have had in putting out such slander? I do +not know her nor she me." Barksdale waved his hand deprecatingly: + +"You do not know much of women." + +"No. I have certainly not met this kind before." + +Barksdale reflected a few moments, and then said, slowly: "Slander is a +curious thing, Mr. Morgan. People who do not believe it will repeat it. +I think if I were you I would clear up all these matters by submitting +to an interview with a reporter. In that you can place your own and +family history before the public and end all talk." Edward was pale, but +this was the suggestion that he had considered more than once. He shook +his head quickly. + +"I disagree with you. I think it beneath the dignity of a gentleman to +answer slander by the publication of his family history. If the people +of this city require such statements from those who come among them, +then I shall sell out my interest here and go abroad, where I am known. +This I am, however, loath to do; I have a few warm friends here." +Barksdale extended his hand. + +"You will, I hope, count me among them. I spoke only from a desire to +see you fairly treated." + +"I have reason to number you among them. I am going to Paris shortly, I +think, with Mrs. Montjoy. Her eyesight is failing. I will be glad to see +you again before then." + +"With Mrs. Montjoy?" exclaimed Barksdale. + +"Yes; the matter is not entirely settled yet, but I do not doubt that +she will make the trip. Miss Montjoy will go with us." + +Barksdale did not lift his eyes, but was silent, his hand toying with +his glass. + +"I will probably call upon you before your departure," he said, as he +arose. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +THE FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH. + + +Twilight was deepening over the hills and already the valleys were in +shadow when Edward reached Ilexhurst. He stood for a moment looking back +on the city and the hills beyond. He seemed to be laying aside a sweeter +life for something less fair, and the old weight descended upon him. +After all was it wise to go forth, when the return to the solitude of a +clouded life was inevitable? There was no escape from fate. + +In the east the hills were darkening, but memory flashed on him a +scene--a fair-faced girl, as he had seen her, as he would always see +her, floating upon an amethyst stream, smiling upon him, one hand +parting the waters and over them the wonders of a southern sunset. + +In the wing-room Virdow and Gerald were getting ready for an experiment +with flashlight photography. Refusing to be hurried in his scientific +investigations, Gerald had insisted that until it had been proven that a +living substance could hold a photographic imprint he should not advance +to the consideration of Virdow's theory. There must be brain pictures +before there could be mind pictures. At least, so he reasoned. None of +them knew exactly what his experiment was to be, except that he was +going to test the substance that envelopes the body of the bass, the +micopterus salmoides of southern waters. That sensitive plate, thinner +than art could make it, was not only spoiled by exposure to light, but +by light and air combined was absolutely destroyed. And the difficulty +of controlling the movements of this fish seemed absolutely insuperable. +They could only watch the experimenter. + +Into a thin glass jar Gerald poured a quantity of powder, which he had +carefully compounded during the day. Virdow saw in it the silvery +glimmer of magnesium. What the combined element was could not be +determined. This compound reached only a third of the distance up the +side of the glass. The jar was then stopped with cork pierced by a +copper wire that touched the powder, and hermetically sealed with wax. +With this under one arm, and a small galvanic battery under the other, +and restless with suppressed excitement, Gerald, pointing to a small +hooded lantern, whose powerful reflector was lighting one end of the +room, bade them follow him. + +Virdow and Edward obeyed. With a rapid stride Gerald set out across +fields, through strips of woodlands and down precipitous slopes until +they stood all breathless upon the shore of the little lake. There they +found the flat-bottom bateau, and although by this time both Edward and +Virdow had begun seriously to doubt the wisdom of blindly following such +a character, they resigned themselves to fate and entered. + +Gerald propelled the little craft carefully to a stump that stood up +distinct against the gloom under the searchlight in the bow, and +reaching it took out his pocket compass. Turning the boat's head +north-east, he followed the course about forty yards until at the left +the reflector showed him two stakes in line. Here he brought the little +craft to a standstill, and in silence, which he invoked by lifting his +hand warningly, turned the lantern downward over the stern of the boat, +and with a tube, whose lower end was stubbed with a bit of glass and +inserted in the water, examined the bottom of the lake twelve feet +below. Long and patient was the search, but at last the others saw him +lay aside his glass and let the boat drift a few moments. Then very +gently, only a ripple of the surface marking the action, he lowered the +weighted jar until the slackening wire indicated that it was upon the +bottom. He reached out his hand quickly and drew the battery to him, +firmly grasping the cross-handle lever. The next instant there was a +rumbling, roaring sound, accompanied by a fierce, white light, and the +end of the boat was in the air. In a brief moment Edward saw the slender +form of the enthusiast bathed in the flash, his face as white as chalk, +his eyes afire with excitement--the incarnation of insanity, it seemed +to him. Then there was a deluge of spray, a violent rocking of the boat +and the water in it went over their shoe-tops. Instantly all was inky +blackness, except where in the hands of the fearless man in the stern +the lantern, its slide changed, was now casting a stream of red light +upon the surface of the lake. Suddenly Gerald uttered a loud cry. + +"Look! Look! There he is!" And floating in that crimson path, with small +fishes rising around him, was the dead body of a gigantic bass. Lifting +him carefully by the gills, Gerald laid him in a box drawn from under +the rear seat. + +"What is it?" broke from Virdow. "We have risked our lives and ruined +our clothes--for what?" + +"For a photograph upon a living substance! On the side of this fish, +which was exposed to the flashlight, you will find the outlines of the +grasses in this lake, or the whole film destroyed. If the outlines are +there then there is no reason why the human brain, infinitely more +sensitive and forever excluded from light, cannot contain the pictures +of those twin cameras--the human eyes." He turned the boat shoreward and +seizing his box disappeared in the darkness, his enlarged pupils giving +him the visual powers of a night animal. Virdow and Edward, even aided +by the lantern, found their way back with difficulty. + +The two men entered the wing-room to find it vacant. Virdow, however, +pointed silently to the red light gleaming through the glass of the +little door to the cabinet. The sound of trickling water was heard. + +At that instant a smothered half-human cry came from within, and +trembling violently, Gerald staggered into the room. They took hold of +him, fearing he would fall. Straining their eyes, they both saw for an +instant only the half-developed outlines of a human profile extended +along the broad side of the fish. As they watched, the surface grew into +one tone and the carcass fell to the floor. + +Gazing into their faces as he struggled for freedom, Gerald cast off +their hands. The lithe, sinewy form seemed to be imbued at the moment +with the strength of a giant. Before they could speak he had seized the +lantern and was out into the night. Without a moment's hesitation, +Edward, bareheaded, plunged after him. Well trained to college athletics +though he was, yet unfamiliar with the grounds, it taxed his best +efforts to keep him in sight. He divined that the wild race would end at +the lake, and the thought that on a few seconds might hang the life of +that strange being was all that held him to the prolonged and dangerous +strain. He reached the shore just in time, by plunging waist deep into +the water, to throw himself into the boat. His own momentum thrust it +far out upon the surface. Gerald had entered. + +With unerring skill and incredible swiftness, the young man carried the +boat over its former course and turned the glare of the lamp downward. +Suddenly he uttered a loud cry, and, dropping the lantern in the boat, +stood up and leaped into the water. The light was now out and all was as +black as midnight. + +Edward slipped off his shoes, seized the paddle and waited for a sound +to guide him. It seemed as though nothing human could survive that +prolonged submergence; minutes appeared to pass; with a groan of despair +he gave up hope. + +But at that moment, with a gasp, the white face of Gerald burst from the +waters ten feet away, and the efforts he made showed that he was +swimming with difficulty. With one mighty stroke Edward sent the boat to +the swimmer and caught the floating hair. Then with great difficulty he +drew him over the side. + +"Home!" The word escaped from Gerald between his gasps, but when he +reached the shore, with a return of energy and a total disregard of his +companion, he plunged into the darkness toward the house, Edward this +time keeping him in view with less difficulty. + +They reached the door of the wing-room almost simultaneously and rushed +in side by side, Gerald dripping with water and exhausted. He leaned +heavily against the table. For the first time Edward was conscious that +he carried a burden in his arms. In breathless silence, he with Virdow +approached, and then upon the table Gerald placed an object and drew +shuddering back. It was a half life-size bust of darkened and discolored +marble, and for them, though trembling with excitement, it seemed to +have no especial significance until they were startled by a cry so loud, +so piercing, so heartrending, that they felt the flesh creep upon their +bones. + +Looking from the marble to the face of the young man they saw that the +whiteness of death was upon every feature. Following the direction of +his gaze, they beheld a silhouette upon the wall; the clear-cut profile +of a woman, cast by the carved face before them. To Edward it was an +outline vaguely familiar; to Virdow a revelation, for it was Edward's +own profile. Had the latter recognized it there would have been a +tragedy, for, without a word after that strange, sad, despairing cry, +Gerald wrenched a dagger from the decorated panel, and struck at his own +heart. It was Edward's quickness that saved him; the blade made but a +trifling flesh wound. Seizing him as he did from the rear he was enabled +to disturb his equilibrium in time. + +"Morphine," he said to Virdow. The latter hurried away to secure the +drug. He found with the pellets a little pocket case containing morphine +powders and a hypodermic injector. Without a struggle, Gerald lay +breathing heavily. In a few minutes the drug was administered, and then +came peace for the sufferer. Edward released his hold and looked about +him. Virdow had moved the bust and was seated lost in thought. + +"What does it mean?" he asked, approaching, awed and saddened by his +experience. Virdow held up the little bust. + +"Have you ever seen that face before?" + +"It is the face of the young woman in the picture!" + +"And now," said Virdow, again placing the marble so as to cast its +outlines upon the wall, "you do not recognize it, but the profile is +your own!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE TRADE WITH SLIPPERY DICK. + + +Amos Royson, in the solitude of his room, had full time for reflection +upon the events of the week and upon his position. His face, always +sinister, had not improved under its contact with the heavy dueling +pistol driven so savagely against it. The front teeth would be replaced +and the defect concealed under the heavy mustache he wore, and the cut +and swollen lips were resuming their normal condition. The missing +finger, even, would inconvenience him only until he had trained the +middle one to discharge its duties--but the nose! He trembled with rage +when for the hundredth time he studied his face in the glass and +realized that the best skill of the surgeon had not been able to restore +its lines. + +But this was not the worst. He had carefully scanned the state press +during his seclusion and awoke from his personal estimate to find that +public opinion was overwhelmingly against him. He had slandered a man +for political purposes and forced a fight upon a stranger to whom, by +every right of hospitality, the city owed a welcome. The general public +could not understand why he had entered upon the duel if his charges +were true, and if not true why he had not had the manliness to withdraw +them. + +Moreover, he had incurred the deadly enmity of the people who had been +deceived in the lost county. One paper alluded to the unpleasant fact +that Edward Morgan was defending and aiding Mr. Royson's connections at +the time of the insult. + +He had heard no word from Swearingen, who evidently felt that the matter +was too hot at both ends for him to handle safely. That gentleman had, +on the contrary, in a brief card to one of the papers, disclaimed any +knowledge of the unfortunate letter and declined all responsibility for +it. This was sufficient, it would seem, to render almost any man +unhappy, but the climax was reached when he received a letter from +Annie, scoring him unmercifully for his clumsiness and informing him +that Edward Morgan, so far from being destroyed in a certain quarter, +was being received in the house as a friend to whom all were indebted, +and was petted and made much of. + +"So far as I can judge," she added, maliciously, "it seems settled that +Mary is to marry him. He is much with Col. Montjoy and is now upon a +confidential footing with everyone here. Practically he is already a +member of the family." It contained a request for him to inform her when +he would be in his office. + +He had not replied to this; he felt that the letter was aimed at his +peace of mind and the only satisfaction he could get out of this affair +was the recollection that he had informed her father-in-law of her +perfidy. + +"I would be glad to see the old gentleman's mind at work with Annie +purring around him," he said to himself, and the idea brought the first +smile his face had known for many a day. But a glimpse of that face in +the glass, with the smile upon it, startled him again. + +What next? Surrender? There was no surrender in the make-up of the man. +His legal success had hinged less upon ability than upon dogged +pertinacity. In this way he had saved the life of more than one criminal +and won a reputation that brought him practice. He had made a charge, +had been challenged and had fought. With almost any other man the issue +would have been at an end as honorably settled, but his habit of mind +was opposed to accepting anything as settled which was clearly +unsettled. The duel did not give Morgan the rights of a gentleman if the +main charge were true, and Royson had convinced himself that it was +true. He wrote to Annie, assured that her visit would develop his next +move. + +So it was that one morning Royson found himself face to face with his +cousin, in the office. There was no word of sympathy for him. He had not +expected one, but he was hardly prepared for the half-smile which came +over her face when he greeted her, and which, during their interview, +returned from time to time. This enraged him beyond endurance, and +nothing but the remembrance that she alone held the key to the situation +prevented his coming to an open breach with her. She saw and read his +struggle aright, and the display put her in the best of humor. + +"When shall we see you at The Hall again?" she asked, coolly. + +"Never," he said, passionately, "until this man Morgan is exposed and +driven out." She arched her brows. + +"Never, then, would have been sufficient." + +"Annie, this man must be exposed; you have the proofs--you have +information; give it to me." She shook her head, smiling. + +"I have changed my mind, Amos; I do not want to be on bad terms with my +brother-in-law of the future; the fact is, I am getting fond of him. He +is very kind to everybody. Mother is to go to Paris to have her eyes +attended to, and Mary is to accompany her. Mr. Morgan has been accepted +as their escort." + +The face of the man grew crimson with suppressed rage. By a supreme +effort he recovered and returned the blow. + +"What a pity, Annie, it could not have been you! Paris has been your +hobby for years. When Mary returns she can tell you how to dress in the +best form and correct your French." It was a successful counter. She was +afraid to trust herself to reply. Royson drew his chair nearer. + +"Annie," he said, "I would give ten years of life to establish the truth +of what you have told me. So far as Mary is concerned, we will leave +that out, but I am determined to crush this fellow Morgan at any cost. +Something tells me we have a common cause in this matter. Give me a +starting point--you owe me something. I could have involved you; I +fought it out alone." She reflected a moment. + +"I cannot help you now as much as you may think. I am convinced of what +I told you, but the direct proof is wanting. You can imagine how +difficult such proof is. The man is thirty years old, probably, and +witnesses of his mother's times are old or dead." + +"And what witnesses could there have been?" + +"Few. John Morgan is gone. The next witness would be Rita. Rita is the +woman who kept Morgan's house for the last thirty years. She owned a +little house in the neighborhood of The Hall and was until she went to +Morgan's a professional nurse. There may be old negroes who can give you +points." + +"And Rita--where is she?" + +"Dead!" + +A shade of disappointment swept over his face. He caught her eyes fixed +upon him with the most peculiar expression. "She is the witness on whom +I relied," she said, slowly. "She was, I believe, the only human being +in the world who could have furnished conclusive testimony as to the +origin of Edward Morgan. She died suddenly the day your letter was +published!" She did not look away as she concluded, "your letter was +published!" She did not look away as she paused, but continued with her +eyes fixed upon his; and gradually, as he watched her, the brows +contracted slightly and the lids tightened under them. A gleam of +intelligence passed to him. His face grew white and his hands closed +convulsively upon the arms of his chair. + +"But that would be beyond belief," he said, at last, in a whisper. "If +what you think is true, he was her son!" She raised her brow as she +replied: + +"There was no tie of association! With him everything was at stake. You +can probably understand that when a man is in love he will risk a great +deal." + +Royson arose and walked the room. No man knew better than he the worst +side of the human heart. There is nothing so true in the history of +crime as that reputation is held higher than conscience. And in this +case there was the terrible passion of love. He did not reply to her +insinuation. + +"You think, then," he said, stopping in front of the woman, "that, +reading my letter, he hurried home--and in this you are correct since I +saw him across the street reading the paper, and a few minutes later +throw himself into a hack and take that direction--that he rushed into +the presence of this woman, demanded the truth, and, receiving it, in a +fit of desperation, killed her!" + +"What I may think, Amos, is my right to keep to myself. The only witness +died that day! There was no inquest! You asked me for a starting point." +She drew her gloves a little tighter, shook out her parasol and rose. +"But I am giving you too much of my time. I have some commissions from +Mary, who is getting ready for Paris, and I must leave you." + +He neither heard her last remark nor saw her go. Standing in the middle +of the room, with his chin upon his chest, he was lost to all +consciousness of the moment. When he looked to the chair she had +occupied it was vacant. He passed his hand over his brow. The scene +seemed to have been in a dream. + +But Amos Royson knew it was real. He had asked for a starting point, and +the woman had given it. + +As he considered it, he unconsciously betrayed how closely akin he was +to the woman, for every fact that came to him was in that legal mind, +trained to building theories, adjusted in support of the hypothesis of +crime. He was again the prosecuting attorney. How natural at least was +such a crime, supposing Morgan capable of it. + +And no man knew his history! + +With one blow he had swept away the witness. That had done a thousand +times in the annals of crime. Poison, the ambush, the street encounter, +the midnight shot through the open window, the fusillade at the form +outlined in its own front door; the press had recorded it since the +beginning of newspapers. Morgan had added one more instance. And if he +had not, the suspicion, the investigation, the doubt would remain! + +At this point by a perfectly natural process the mind of the man reached +its conclusion. Why need there be any suspicion, any doubt? Why might +not an inquest develop evidences of a crime? This idea involved action +and decision upon his part, and some risk. + +At last he arose from the desk, where, with his head upon his hand, he +had studied so long, and prepared for action. At the lavatory he caught +sight of his own countenance in the glass. It told him that his mind was +made up. It was war to the knife, and that livid scar upon the pallor of +his face was but the record of the first failure. The next battle would +not be in the open, with the skies blue above him and no shelter at +hand. His victim would never see the knife descend, but it would descend +nevertheless, and this time there would be no trembling hand or failure +of nerve. + +From his office he went direct to the coroner's and examined the +records. The last inquest was of the day previous; the next in line more +than a month before. There was no woman's name upon the list. So far +Annie was right. + +Outside of cities in the south no burial permits are required. Who was +the undertaker? Inquiry would easily develop the fact, but this time he +himself was to remain in the dark. If this crime was fastened upon +Morgan, the motive would be self-evident and a reaction of public +opinion would re-establish Royson high in favor. His experience would +rank as martyrdom. + +But a new failure would destroy him forever, and there was not a great +deal left to destroy, he felt. + +In the community, somewhere, was a negro whose only title was "Slippery +Dick," won in many a hotly contested criminal trial. It had been said of +this man that the entire penal code was exhausted in efforts to convict +him, and always without success. He had been prosecuted for nearly every +offense proscribed by state laws. Royson's first experience with the man +was as prosecuting attorney. Afterward and within the preceding year he +had defended him in a trial for body-snatching and had secured a verdict +by getting upon the jury one man who was closely kin to the person who +purchased the awful merchandise. This negro, plausible and cunning, +hesitated at nothing short of open murder--or such was his reputation. +It was to find him that Royson went abroad. Nor was it long before he +succeeded. + +That night, in a lonely cabin on the outskirts of the city, a trade was +made. Ten dollars in hand was paid. If upon an inquest by the coroner it +was found that there was a small wound on the back of the head of the +woman and the skull fractured, Slippery Dick was to receive $100 more. + +This was the only risk Royson would permit himself to take, and there +were no witnesses to the trade. Dick's word was worth nothing. Discovery +could not affect the plot seriously, and Dick never confessed. The next +day he met Annie upon the road, having seen her in the city, and posted +himself to intercept her. + +"I have investigated the death of Rita," he said, "and am satisfied that +there are no grounds for suspecting murder. We shall wait!" The woman +looked him in the face. + +"Amos," she said, "if you were not my cousin, I would say that you are +an accomplished liar!" Before he replied there was heard the sound of a +horse's feet. Edward Morgan drove by, gravely lifting his hat. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE FACE OF THE BODY-SNATCHER. + + +The methods of Royson's emissary were simple and direct. One day he +wandered in among the negroes at Ilexhurst in search of a lost hound +puppy, for Dick was a mighty hunter, especially of the midnight 'possum. + +No one had seen the puppy, but all were ready to talk, and the death of +Rita had been the latest sensation. From them he obtained every detail +from the time Edward had carried the body in his arms to the little +house, until it had been buried under the crooked cedar in the +plantation burying-ground. + +The body had been dressed by two of the women. There had been a little +blood on her head, from a small wound in the left temple, where she had +cut herself against the glass when she was "taken with a fit." + +The coffin was a heavy metal one and the top screwed on. That was all. + +When Royson received the report of the cut in the head and the blood, +his breath almost forsook him. Morgan might have been innocent, but what +a chain of circumstantial evidence! If Dick should return to tell him +some morning that the false wound he was to make was already on the spot +selected, he would not be surprised. So far he could show a motive for +the crime, and every circumstance necessary to convict his enemy with +it. All he needed was a cause of death. + +Dick's precautions in this venture were novel, from the Caucasian +standpoint. His superstition was the strongest feature of his depraved +mind. The negro has an instinctive dread of dead bodies, but a dead and +buried cadaver is to him a horror. + +In this instance, however, Dick's superstition made his sacrilege +possible; for while he believed firmly in the reappearance and power of +departed spirits, he believed equally in the powers of the voodoo to +control or baffle them. Before undertaking his commission, he went to +one of these voodoo "doctors," who had befriended him in more than one +peril, and by the gift of a fat 'possum secured a charm to protect him. + +The dark hour came, and at midnight to the little clump of trees came +also Slippery Dick. His first act was to bore a hole with an auger in +the cedar, insert the voodoo charm and plug the hole firmly. This +chained the spirit of the dead. Then with a spade and working rapidly, +he threw the mound aside and began to toss out the earth from above the +coffin. In half an hour his spade laid the wooden case bare. Some +difficulty was experienced in removing the screws, but down in that +cavity, the danger from using matches was reduced to a minimum, and by +the aid of these he soon loosened the lid and removed it. To lift this +out, and take off the metal top of the burial case, was the work of but +a few minutes longer, and the remains of poor Rita were exposed to view. + +In less than an hour after his arrival Slippery Dick had executed his +commission and was filling up the grave. With the utmost care he pressed +down the earth and drew up the loosened soil. + +There had been a bunch of faded flowers upon the mound; he restored +these and with a sigh of relief shouldered his spade and auger and took +his departure, glad to leave the grewsome spot. + +But a dramatic pantomime had been enacted near him which he never saw. +While he was engaged in marking the head of the lifeless body, the +slender form of a man appeared above him and shrank back in horror at +the discovery. This man turned and picked up the heavy spade and swung +it in air. If it had descended the negro would have been brained. But +thought is a monarch! Slowly the arm descended, the spade was laid upon +the ground, and the form a moment before animated with an overwhelming +passion stood silent and motionless behind the cedar. + +When the negro withdrew, this man followed, gliding from cover to cover, +or following boldly in the open, but at all times with a tread as soft +as a panther's. Down they went, the criminal and his shadow, down into +the suburbs, then into the streets and then into the heart of the city. +Near the office of Amos Royson the man in front uttered a peculiar +whistle and passed on. At the next corner under the electric lamp he +turned and found himself confronted by a slender man, whose face shone +white under the ghastly light of the lamp, whose hair hung upon his +shoulders, and whose eyes were distended with excitement. Uttering a cry +of fright, the negro sprang from the sidewalk into the gutter, but the +other passed on without turning except to cross the street, where in a +friendly shadow he stopped. And as he stood there the negro retraced his +steps and paused at the door of the lawyer's office. A dimly outlined +form was at the window above. They had no more than time to exchange a +word when the negro went on and the street was bare, except that a +square away a heavy-footed policeman was approaching. + +The man in the shadow leaned his head against a tree and thought. In his +brain, standing out as distinct as if cut from black marble, was the +face of the man he had followed. + +Gerald possessed the reasoning faculty to an eminent degree, but it had +been trained altogether upon abstract propositions. The small affairs of +life were strange and remote to him, and the passions that animate the +human breast were forces and agencies beyond his knowledge and +calculations. + +Annie Montjoy, with the facts in his possession, would have reached +instantly a correct conclusion as to their meaning. He could not handle +them. His mind was absolutely free of suspicion. He had wandered to the +little graveyard, as he had before when sleepless and harassed, and +discovered that some one was disfiguring the body of his lifelong +friend. To seize the spade and wreak vengeance upon the intruder was his +first impulse, but at the moment that it should have fallen he saw that +the head of the woman was being carefully replaced in position and the +clothing arranged. He paused in wonder. The habitual opium-eater +develops generally a cunning that is incomprehensible to the normal +mind, and curiosity now controlled Gerald. The moment for action had +passed. He withdrew behind the tree to witness the conclusion of the +drama. + +His following the retreating figure was but the continuance of his new +mood. He would see the affair out and behold the face of the man. +Succeeding in this he went home, revolving in mind the strange +experience he had gained. + +But the excitement would not pass away from him, and in the solitude of +his studio, with marvelous skill he drew in charcoal the scene as it +shone in memory--the man in the grave, the sad, dead face of the woman, +shrinking into dissolution, and then its every detail perfect, upon a +separate sheet the face of the man under the lamp. The memories no +longer haunted him. They were transferred to paper. + +Then Gerald underwent the common struggle of his existence; he lay down +and tossed upon his pillow; he arose and read and returned again. At +last came the surrender, opium and--oblivion. + +Standing by the easel next morning, Virdow said to Edward: "The brain +cannot survive this many years. When dreams of memories such as these, +vivid enough to be remembered and drawn, come upon it, when the waking +mind holds them vivid, it is in a critical condition." He looked sadly +upon the sleeper and felt the white wrist that overlay the counterpane. +The flesh was cold, the pulse slow and feeble. "Vitality small," he +said. "It will be sudden when it comes; sleep will simply extend into +eternity." + +Edward's mind reverted to the old general. What was his own duty? He +would decide. It might be that he would return no more, and if he did +not, and Gerald was left, he should have a protector. + +Virdow had been silent and thoughtful. Now he turned with sudden +decision. + +"My experiments will probably end with the next," he said. "The truth +is, I am so thoroughly convinced that the cultivation of this singular +power which Gerald possesses is destructive of the nervous system I +cannot go on with them. In some way the young man has wound himself +about me. I will care for him as I would a son. He is all gold." The old +man passed out abruptly, ashamed of the feeling which shook his voice. + +But Edward sat upon the bed and taking the white hand in his own, +smoothed it gently, and gave himself up to thought. What did it mean? +And how would it end? The sleeper stirred slightly. "Mother," he said, +and a childish smile dwelt for a moment upon his lips. Edward replaced +the hand upon the counterpane and withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE GRAVE IN THE PAST. + + +When Col. Montjoy rode over to Gen. Evan's, a few mornings after the +operation upon his wife's eyes, it was with but ill-defined notions of +what he would say or what would be the result of the interview. +Circumstances had placed him in a strange and unpleasant position. + +Col. Montjoy felt that the Paris trip could not be well avoided. He +realized that the chances of accomplishing any real good for his wife +were very small, but Dr. Campbell had distinctly favored it, and the +hesitancy had evidently only been on account of the cost. + +But could he accept the generous offer made by Morgan? That was the +embarrassing question. He was not mentally blind; he felt assured that +the real question for him to decide then was what he should answer when +a demand for the hand of his daughter was made. For in accepting the +loan and escort of Edward Morgan, he accepted him. Could he do this? + +So far as the rumors about the young man were concerned, he never +entertained them seriously. He regarded them only as a desperate +political move, and so did the public generally. But a shadow ought not +to hang over the life of his daughter. + +The old general was at home and partially read his visitor's predicament +in his face as he approached the veranda. + +"Come in, Norton," he said without moving from his great rocker; "what +is troubling you?" And he laughed maliciously. "But by the way," he +added, "how is the madam to-day? Mary told me yesterday she was getting +along finely." + +"Well, we can't tell, Evan," said his visitor, drawing his chair next to +the rail; "we can't tell. In fact, nothing will be known until the +bandages are removed. I came off without my tobacco--" He was holding +his pipe. The general passed him his box. + +"Oh, well, she will come through all right; Campbell is never mistaken." + +"That is true, and that is what troubles me. Campbell predicts a return +of the trouble and thinks in the near future her only chance for vision +will lie in the eye which has been blind for several years. He is +willing to admit that Moreau in Paris is better authority and would be +glad for Caroline to see him and have his opinion." + +"Ah, indeed!" It was expressive. The colonel knew that Evan comprehended +the situation, if not the whole of it. If there had been any doubt, it +would have been dispelled by the next words: + +"A great expense, Norton, in these days, but it must be attended to." +Col. Montjoy ran his hand through his hair and passed it over his brow +nervously. + +"The trouble is, Evan, the matter has been attended to, and too easily. +Edward Morgan was present during the operation and has offered to lend +me all the money necessary for the trip with or without security and +with or without interest." The general shook with silent laughter and +succeeded in getting enough smoke down his throat to induce a disguising +cough. + +"That is a trouble, Norton, that hasn't afflicted us old fellows much of +late--extra ease in money matters. Edward is rich and will not be in any +way embarrassed by a matter like this. I think you will do well to make +it a business transaction and accept." + +"You do not understand. I have noticed marked attentions to Mary on the +part of the young man, and Mary," he said, sadly, "is, I am afraid, +interested in him." + +"That is different. Before you decide on accepting this offer, you feel +that you must decide on the young man himself, I see. What do you +think?" + +"I haven't been able to think intelligently, I am afraid, upon that +point. What do you think, Evan? Mary is about as much your property as +mine." + +"I think," said the general, throwing off his disguise, "that in Edward +Morgan she will get the only man I ever saw to whom I would be willing +to give her up. He is as straight and as brave as any man that ever +followed me into battle." Montjoy was silent awhile. + +"You know," he said, presently, "I value your opinion more than any +man's and I do not wish to express or to intimate a doubt of Mr. Morgan, +who, I see, has impressed you. I believe the letter of Royson's was +infamous and untrue in every respect, but it has been published--and she +is my daughter. Why in the name of common sense hasn't he come to me and +given me something to go upon?" + +"It has occurred to me," said the general, dryly, "that he will do so +when he comes for Mary. In the meantime, a man isn't called upon to +travel with a family tree under his arm and show it to every one who +questions him. Morgan is a gentleman, _sans peur et sans reproche_. If +he is not, I do not know the breed. + +"So far as the charge of Royson is concerned," continued the general, +"let me calm your mind on that point. I have never entered upon this +matter with you because the mistakes of a man's kindred are things he +has no right to gossip about, even among friends. The woman, Rita +Morgan, has always been free; she was given her freedom in infancy by +John Morgan's father. Her mother's history is an unfortunate one. It is +enough to say that she was sent out from Virginia with John Morgan's +mother, who was, as you know, a blood relative of mine; and I know that +this woman was sent away with an object. She looked confoundedly like +some of the family. Well, John Morgan's father was wild; you can guess +the result. + +"Rita lived in her own house, and when her husband died John took her to +his home. He told me once in so many words that his father left +instructions outside his will to that effect, and that Rita's claims +upon the old man, as far as blood was concerned, were about the same as +his. You see from this that the Royson story is an absurdity. I knew it +when I went in and vouched for our young friend, and I would have proved +it to Thomas the night he called, but Rita dropped dead that day." + +Montjoy drew a long breath. + +"You astonish me," he said, "and relieve me greatly. I had never heard +this. I did not really doubt, but you have cleared up all possibility of +error." + +"Nor has any other man heard the story. My conversation with John Morgan +grew out of his offer to buy of me Alec, a very handsome mulatto man I +owned, to whom Rita had taken a fancy. He wanted to buy him and free +him, but I had never bought or sold a slave, and could not bring myself +to accept money for Alec. I freed him myself. John was not willing for +her to marry a slave. They were married and he died in less than a year. +That is Rita's history. When Alec died Rita went to John Morgan and kept +house for him. + +"When it was that Gerald came in I do not know," pursued the general +musingly. "The boy was nearly grown before I heard of him. He and Edward +are children of distant relatives, I am told. John never saw the latter +at all, probably, but educated him and, finding Gerald incapacitated, +very wisely left his property to the other, with Gerald in his charge. + +"No, I have taken the greatest fancy to these two young fellows, +although I only have known one a few weeks and the other by sight and +reputation." He paused a moment, as though his careless tone had +desecrated a sacred scene; the face of the sleeper rose to his mind. +"But they are game and thoroughbreds. Accept the proposition and shut +your eyes to the future. It will all work out rightly." Montjoy shook +his head sadly. + +"I will accept it," he said, "but only because it means a chance for +Caroline which otherwise she would not have. Of course you know Mary is +going with her, and Morgan is to be their escort?" + +The general uttered a prolonged whistle and then laughed. "Well, +confound the little darling, to think she should come over here and tell +me all the arrangements and leave herself out; Montjoy, that is the only +one of your family born without grit; tell her so. She is afraid of one +old man's tongue." + +"Here she comes, with Morgan," said Montjoy, smiling. "Tell her +yourself." + +Edward's buggy was approaching rapidly and the flushed and happy face of +the girl could be seen within. + +"Plotting against me," she called out, as she descended, "and I dare you +to own it." The general said: + +"On the contrary, I was about telling your father what a brave little +woman you are. Come in, Mr. Morgan," he added, seeing from her blushes +that she understood him. + +"Mr. Morgan was coming over to see the general," said Mary, "and I came +with him to ride back with papa." And, despite the protests of all the +others, he presently got Mary into the buggy and carried her off. "You +will stop, as you come by, Mr. Morgan," he called out. "I will be glad +to see you on a matter of business." + +The buggy was yet in sight when Edward turned to his old friend and +said: + +"Gen. Evan, I have come to make a statement to you, based upon long +reflection and a sense of justice. I am about to leave the state for +France, and may never return. There are matters connected with my family +which I feel you should know, and I prefer to speak rather than write +them." He paused to collect his thoughts, the general looking straight +ahead and recalling the conversation just had with Col. Montjoy. "If I +seem to trespass on forbidden grounds or stir unpleasant memories, I +trust you will hear me through before condemning me. Many years ago you +lost a daughter----" + +"Go on," said the general as Edward paused and looked doubtfully toward +him. + +"She was to have married my uncle, I am informed, but she did not. On +the contrary, she married a foreigner--her music teacher. Is this not +true?" + +"Go on." + +"She went abroad, but unknown to you she came back and her child was +born." + +"Ah." The sound that came from the old man's lips was almost a gasp. For +the first time since the recital was begun he turned his eyes upon his +companion. + +"At this birth, which took place probably at Ilexhurst, possibly in the +house of Rita Morgan, whose death you know of, occurred the birth of +Rita's child also. Your daughter disappeared. Rita was delirious, and +when she recovered could not be convinced that this child was not her +own; and she thought him her son until the day of her death." + +"Where is this child? Why was I not informed?" The old general's voice +was hoarse and his words scarcely audible. Edward, looking him full in +the face, replied: + +"At Ilexhurst! His name, as we know it, is Gerald Morgan." + +Evan, who had half arisen, sank back in his chair. + +"And this is your belief, Mr. Morgan?" + +"That is the fact, as the weight of evidence declares. The woman in +health did not claim Gerald for her son. In the moment of her death she +cried out: 'They lied!' This is what you heard in the yard and I +repeated it at that time. I was, as you know, laboring under great +excitement. There is a picture of your daughter at Ilexhurst and the +resemblance it strong. You yourself were struck with the family +resemblance. + +"I felt it my duty to speak, even at the risk of appearing to trespass +upon your best feelings. You were my friend when I needed friends, and +had I concealed this I would have been ungrateful." Edward rose, but the +general, without looking up, laid his hand upon his arm. + +"Sit down, Mr. Morgan. I thank you. You could not have done less. But +give me time to realize what this means. If you are correct, I have a +grandson at Ilexhurst"--Edward bowed slightly--"whom my daughter +abandoned to the care of a servant." Again Morgan bowed, but by the +faintest motion of his head. + +"I did not say abandoned," he corrected. + +"It cannot be true," said the old man; "it cannot be true. She was a +good girl and even infatuation would not have changed her character. She +would have come back to me." + +"If she could," said Edward. He told him the story of the unfinished +manuscript and the picture drawn by Gerald. He was determined to tell +him all, except as related to himself. That was his own and Virdow's +secret. "If that story is true, she may not have been able to get to +you; and then the war came on; you must know all before you can judge." +The old soldier was silent. + +He got up with apparent difficulty and said formally: "Mr. Morgan, I +will be glad to have you join me in a glass of wine. I am not as +vigorous as I may appear, and this is my time o' day. Come in." Edward +noticed that, as he followed, the general's form had lost something of +its martial air. + +No words were exchanged over the little southern ceremony. The general +merely lifted his glass slightly and bowed. + +The room was cool and dark. He motioned Edward to a rocker and sank into +his leather-covered easy-chair. There was a minute's silence broken by +the elder man. + +"What is your belief, Mr. Morgan, as to Gerald?" + +"The facts as stated are all----" + +"Nevertheless, as man to man--your belief." + +"Then, in my opinion, the evidence points to Gerald as the child of this +woman Rita. I am sure also that it is his own belief. The only +disturbing evidence is the likeness, but Virdow says that the children +of servants very frequently bear likeness to a mistress. It is a +delicate question, but all of our ancestors were not immaculate. Is +there anything in the ancestry of Rita Morgan--is there any reason why +her child should bear a likeness to--to----" + +The general lifted his hand in warning. But he said: "What became of the +other child?" The question did not disturb or surprise the young man. He +expected that it would be asked. It was natural. Yet, prepared as he +was, his voice was unsteady when he replied: + +"That I do not know." + +"You do not know!" The general's tone of voice was peculiar. Did he +doubt? + +"I had two objects in view when I brought up this subject," said Edward, +when the silence grew embarrassing; "one was to acquaint you with the +possibilities out at Ilexhurst, and to ask your good offices for Gerald +in the event my absence is prolonged or any necessity for assistance +should arise. The other is to find the second child if it is living and +determine Gerald's status; and, with this as my main object, I venture +to ask you if, since her disappearance, you have ever heard of Marion +Evan?" + +"God help me," said Evan, brokenly; "yes. But it was too soon; too soon; +I could not forgive her." + +"And since then?" The old man moved his hand slowly and let it fall. + +"Silence--oblivion." + +"Can you give me the name of her husband?" Without reply the veteran +went to the secretary and took from a pigeonhole a well-worn letter. + +"No eye but mine has ever read these lines," he said, simply. "I do not +fear to trust them to you! Read! I cannot now!" + +Edward's hand trembled as he received the papers. If Rita Morgan spoke +the truth he was about to look upon lines traced by his mother's hand. +It was like a message from the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE PLEDGE THAT WAS GIVEN. + + +Edward opened the letter with deep emotion. The handwriting was small +and unformed, the writing of schoolgirl. It read: + + "Jan. 3, 18--. My Darling Papa: When you read this I will be + far away upon the ocean and separated from you by circumstances + compared with which leagues are but trifles. You probably know + them by telegram before now, but I cannot leave you and my + native land without a farewell. Papa, I am now the wife of an + honorable, loving man, and happy as I could be while + remembering you and your loneliness. Why I have done this, why + I have taken this step without coming to you first and letting + you decide, I cannot tell, nor do I know. I only know that I + love my husband as I have never loved before; that I have his + whole affection; that he wanted me to go with him blindly, and + that I have obeyed. That is all. There is no ingratitude in my + heart, no lessening of affection for you; you still are to me + the one man in my old world; but my husband had come in and + made a new world of it all, and I am his. You will blame me, I + am afraid, and perhaps disown me. If so, God is merciful to + women who suffer for those they love. I would lay down my life + for Gaspard; I have laid down everything dear to life. We go to + his childhood's home in Silesia, where with the money he has + saved and with his divine art, we hope to be happy and face the + world without fear. Oh, papa, if you could only forgive me; if + you could remember your own love for that beautiful mamma of + whom you never tired telling, and who, I am sure, is near me + now; if you could remember and forgive me, the world would hold + nothing that I would exchange a thought for. Gaspard is noble + and manly. You would admire him and he would adore you, as do + I, your only child. Papa, you will write to me; a father can + never forsake his child. If I am wrong, you cannot forsake me; + if I am right, you cannot. There is no arrangement in all God's + providence for such a contingency, and Christ did not turn even + from the woman whom others would stone. Can you turn from me, + when if I have erred it is through the divine instinct that God + has given me? No! You cannot, you will not! If you could, you + would not have been the noble patient, brave man whom all men + love. Write at once and forgive and bless your child. + + "Marion." + +On a separate slip, pinned to the letter, was: + + "My address will be Mrs. Gaspard Levigne, Breslau, Silesia. If + we change soon, I will write to you. God bless and care for + you. + + "M." + +Edward gently replaced the faded letter upon the table; his eyes were +wet and his voice changed and unnatural. + +"You did not write?" + +The general shook his head. + +"You did not write?" Edward repeated the question; this time his voice +almost agonized in the weight of emotion. Again the general shook his +head, fearing to trust his voice. The young man gazed upon him long and +curiously and was silent. + +"I wrote five years later," said Evan, presently. "It was the best I +could do. You cannot judge the ante-bellum southern planter by him +to-day. I was a king in those times! I had ambition. I looked to the +future of my child and my family! All was lost; all perished in the act +of a foolish girl, infatuated with a music master. I can forgive now, +but over me have rolled waves enough in thirty years to wear away stone. +The war came on; I carried that letter from Manassas to Appomattox and +then I wrote. I set inquiries afoot through consuls abroad. No voice has +ever raised from the silence. My child is dead." + +"Perhaps not," said Edward, gently; "perhaps not. If there is any genius +in European detective bureaus that money can command, we shall know--we +shall know." + +"If she lived she would have written. I cannot get around that. I know +my child. She could not remain silent nearly thirty years." + +"Unless silenced by circumstances over which she had no control," +continued Edward, "and every side of this matter has presented itself to +me. Your daughter had one firm, unchanging friend--my uncle, John +Morgan. He has kept her secret--perhaps her child. Is it not possible +that he has known of her existence somewhere; that she has been all +along informed of the condition and welfare of the child--and of you?" +Evan did not reply; he was intently studying the young man. + +"John offered to find her a year after she was gone. He came and pleaded +for her, but I gave him conditions and he came no more." + +"It is not only possible that she lives," said Edward, "but probable. +And it is certain that if John Morgan knew of her existence and then +that she had passed away, that all pledges would have been suspended in +the presence of a father's right to know that his child was dead. I go +to unravel the mystery. I begin to feel that I will succeed, for now, +for the first time I have a starting point. I have name and address." He +took down the information in his memorandum book. + +Edward prepared to take his departure, when Evan, throwing off his mood, +stood before him thoughtful and distressed. + +"Say it," said Edward, bravely, reading a change in the frank face. + +"One moment, and I shall bid you farewell and godspeed." He laid his +hand upon Edward's shoulder and fixed a penetrating gaze upon him. +"Young man, my affairs can wait, but yours cannot. I have no questions +to ask of yourself; you came among us and earned our gratitude. In time +of trouble I stood by you. It was upon my vouching personally for your +gentility that your challenge was accepted. We went upon the field +together; your cause became mine. Now this; I have yet a daughter, the +young woman whom you love--not a word now--she is the pride and idol of +two old men. She is well disposed toward you, and you are on the point +of going upon a journey in her company under circumstances that place +her somewhat at a disadvantage. I charge you that it is not honorable to +take advantage of this to win from her a declaration or a promise of any +kind. Man to man, is it not true?" + +"It is true," said Edward, turning pale, but meeting his gaze +fearlessly. "It is so true that I may tell you now that from my lips no +word of love has ever passed to her; that if I do speak to her upon that +subject it will be while she is here among her own people and free from +influences that would bias her decision unfairly." The hands of the two +men met impulsively. A new light shone in the face of the soldier. + +"I vouched for you, and if I erred then there is no more faith to be put +in manhood, for if you be not a true man I never have seen one. Go and +do your best for Gerald--and for me. I must reflect upon these +matters--I must reflect! As yet their full import has failed me. You +must send me that manuscript." + +Deeply impressed and touched, Edward withdrew. The task was finished. It +had been a delicate and trying one for him. + +At The Hall Edward went with Mary into the darkened room and took the +little mother's hand in his and sat beside her to tell of the proposed +journey. He pictured vividly the scenes to be enjoyed and life in the +gay capital, and all as a certainty for her. She did not doubt; Dr. +Campbell had promised sight; it would return. But this journey, the +expense, they could not afford it. + +But Mary came to the rescue there; her father had told her he was +entirely able to bear the expense, and she was satisfied. This, however, +did not deceive the mother, who was perfectly familiar with the family +finances. She knitted away in discreet silence, biding her time. + +The business to which Col. Montjoy had referred was soon finished. He +formally accepted the very opportune offer and wished to know when they +should meet in the city to arrange papers. To this Edward objected, +suggesting that he would keep an accurate account of expenses incurred +and arrange papers upon his return; and to this, the only reasonable +arrangement possible, Col. Montjoy acceded. + +One more incident closed the day. Edward had nearly reached the city, +when he came upon a buggy by the roadside, drawn up in the shade of a +tree. His own animal, somewhat jaded, was leisurely walking. Their +approach was practically noiseless, and he was alongside the vehicle +before either of the two occupants looked up. He saw them both start +violently and the face of the man flush quickly, a scar upon the nose +becoming at once crimson. They were Royson and his cousin. + +Greatly pained and embarrassed, Edward was at a loss how to act, but +unconsciously he lifted his hat, with ceremonious politeness. Royson did +not respond, but Annie, with more presence of mind, smiled sweetly and +bowed. This surprised him. She had studiously avoided meeting him at The +Hall. + +The message of Mary, "Royson is your enemy," flashed upon him. He had +felt intuitively the enmity of the woman. Why this clandestine interview +and to what did it tend? He knew in after days. + +Arriving at home he found Virdow writing in the library and forbore to +disturb him. Gerald was slumbering in the glass-room, his deep breathing +betraying the cause. Edward went to the little room upstairs to secure +the manuscript and prepare it for sending to Gen. Evan. Opening the desk +he was surprised to see that the document was not where he placed it. A +search developed it under all the fragmentary manuscript, and he was +about to inclose it in an envelope when he noticed that the pages were +reversed. The last reader had not slipped the pages one under another, +but had placed them one on another, probably upon the desk, thus +bringing the last page on top. + +Edward remembered at that moment that in reading the manuscript he had +carefully replaced each page in its proper position and had left the +package on top of all others. Who could have disturbed them? Not Virdow, +and there was none else but Gerald! + +He laid aside the package and reflected. Of what use could this +unexplained manuscript be to Gerald? None that he could imagine; and yet +only Gerald could have moved it. Greatly annoyed, he restored the leaves +and placed them in an envelope. + +He was still thinking of the singular discovery he had made, and idly +glancing over the other fragments, when from one of them fell a +newspaper clipping. He would not in all probability have read it +through, but the name "Gaspard," so recently impressed upon his mind, +caught his eye. The clipping was printed in French and was headed "From +our Vienna correspondent." Translated, it read as follows: + +"To-day began the trial of Leon Gaspard for the murder of Otto Schwartz +in this city on the 18th ult. The case attracts considerable attention, +because of the fact that Gaspard has been for a week playing first +violin in the orchestra of the Imperial Theater, where he has won many +admirers and because of the peculiar circumstances of the case. Schwartz +was a stranger and came to this city only upon the day of his death. It +seems that Gaspard, so it is charged, some years previously had deserted +a sister of Schwartz after a mock marriage, but this he denies. The men +met in a cafe and a scuffle ensued, during which Schwartz was stabbed to +the heart and instantly killed. Gaspard claims that he had been +repeatedly threatened by letter, and that Schwartz came to Vienna to +kill him, and that he (Schwartz) struck the first blow. He had upon his +face a slight cut, inflicted, he claims, by a seal ring worn by +Schwartz. Bystanders did not see the blow, and Schwartz had no weapons +upon his body. Gaspard declares that he saw a knife in the dead man's +hand and that it was picked up and concealed by a stranger who +accompanied him into the cafe. Unless he can produce the threatening +letters, and find witnesses to prove the knife incident, the trial will +go hard with him." + +Another clew! And the husband of Marion Evan was a murderer! Who sent +that clipping to John Morgan? Probably a detective bureau. Edward folded +it sadly, and gave it place by the memoranda he had written in his +notebook. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +"WHICH OF THE TWO WAS MY MOTHER?" + + +The sleeper lay tranquilly forgetful of the morning hours redolent of +perfumes and vocal with the songs of birds. The sunlight was gone, a +deep-gray cloud having crept up to shadow the scene. All was still in +the glass-room. Virdow shook his head. + +"This," he said, "strange, as it may seem, is his real life. Waking +brings the dreams. We will not disturb him." + +Edward would have returned his violin to its case, but as he sat looking +upon the face of the sleeper and revolving in mind the complications +which had enslaved him, there came upon the roof of glass the unheralded +fall of rain. As it rose and fell in fine cadences under the fitful +discharge of moisture from the uneven cloud drifting past, a note wild +but familiar caught his ear; it was the note of the waterfall. +Unconsciously he lifted his bow, and blending with that strange minor +chord, he filled the room with low, sweet melody. + +And there as the song grew into rapture from its sadness under the spell +of a new-found hope, under the memory of that last scene, when the +rainbow overhung the waters and the face of the girl had become radiant +with the thought she expressed, Gerald arose from his couch and stood +before the easel. All the care lines were gone from his face. For the +first time in the knowledge of the two men he stood a cool, rational +being. The strains ran on. The artist drew, lingering over a touch of +beauty, a shade of expression, a wave of fine hair upon the brow. Then +he stood silent and gazed upon his work. It was finished. The song of +the violin trembled--died away. + +He did not for the moment note his companions; he was looking upward +thoughtfully. The sun had burst open the clouds and was filling the +outer world with yellow light, through the water-seeped air. Far away, +arching the mellow depths of a cloud abyss, its colors repeated upon the +wet grass around him, was a rainbow. Then he saw that Virdow and Edward +were watching him. The spell was broken. He smiled a little and beckoned +to Edward. + +"Here is a new face," he said. "It is the first time it has come to me. +It is a face that rests me." Edward approached and gazed upon the face +of Mary! Speechless with the rush of feeling that came over him, he +turned and left the room. + +To Virdow it meant nothing except a fine ideal, but, impressed with the +manner of the musician, he followed to the great hall. The girl of the +picture stood in the doorway. Before he had time to speak, he saw the +martial figure of Evan overshadow hers and heard the strong, manly voice +asking for Edward. + +Edward came forward. Confused by his recent experience, and the sudden +appearance of the original of the picture, he with difficulty managed to +welcome his guest and introduce his friend. + +"I thought best to come," said Evan when Virdow, with easy courtesy, was +engaging the attention of the lady. "I have passed a sleepless night. +Where can we speak privately?" Edward motioned to the stairway, but +hesitated. + +"Never mind Mary," said the general, divining his embarrassment. + +"I took her away from the colonel on the road; she and the professor +will take care of themselves." She heard the remark and smiled, replying +gayly: + +"But don't stay too long. I am afraid I shall weary your friend." + +Virdow made his courtliest bow. + +"Impossible," he said. "I have been an untiring admirer of the beautiful +since childhood." + +"Bravo!" cried Evan. "You will do!" Virdow bowed again. + +"I would be glad to have you answer a question," he said, rather +abruptly, gazing earnestly into her eyes. She was astonished, but +managed to reply assuringly. "It is this: Have you ever met Gerald +Morgan?" + +"Never. I have heard so much of him lately, I should be glad to see +him." + +"Has he ever seen you?" + +"Not that I am aware of----" + +"Certainly not face to face--long enough for him to remember your every +feature--your expression?" + +"Why, no." The old man looked troubled and began to walk up and down the +hall, his head bent forward. The girl watched him nonplussed and with a +little uneasiness. + +"Pardon me--pardon me," he said, finally, recalling the situation. "But +it is strange, strange!" + +"May I inquire what troubles you, sir?" she asked, timidly. + +"Yes, certainly, yes." He started, with sudden resolution, and +disappeared for a few moments. When he returned, he was holding a large +sheet of cardboard. "It is this," he said. "How could a man who has +never seen you face to face have drawn this likeness?" He held Gerald's +picture before her. She uttered an exclamation of surprise. + +"And did he draw it--did Mr. Gerald----" + +"In my presence." + +"He has never seen me." + +"Yes," said a musical voice; "as you were then, I have seen you." She +started with fright. Gerald, with pallid face and hair upon his +shoulders, stood before her. "So shall I see you forever." She drew +nearer to Virdow. + +"This, my young friend, is Mary." It was all he could remember. And then +to her: "This is Gerald." + +"Mary," he said, musingly, "Mary? What a pretty name! It suits you. None +other would." She had extended her hand shyly. He took it and lifted it +to his lips. It was the first time a girl's hand had rested in his. He +did not release it; she drew away at last. Something in his voice had +touched her; it was the note of suffering, of unrest, which a woman +feels first. She knew something of his history. He had been Edward's +friend. Her father had pictured the scene wherein he had cornered and +defied Royson. + +"I am sure we shall be friends, Mr. Gerald. Mr. Morgan is so fond of +you." + +"We shall be more than friends," he said, gently; "more than friends." +She misunderstood him. Had he divined her secret and did Edward promise +him that? + +"Never less," she said. He had not removed his eyes from her, and now as +she turned to speak to Virdow, he came and stood by her side, and +lifting gently one of her brown curls gazed wonderingly upon it. She was +embarrassed, but her good sense came to the rescue. + +"See the light upon it come and go," he said. "We call it the reflected +light; but it is life itself glimmering there. The eye holds the same +ray." + +"You have imagination," she said, smiling, "and it is fortunate. Here +you must be lonely." He shook his head. + +"Imagination is often a curse. The world generally is happy, I think, +and the happiest are those who touch life through the senses alone and +who do not dream. I am never alone! Would to God sometimes I were." A +look of anguish convulsed his face. She laid her hand upon his wrist as +he stood silently struggling for self-possession. + +"I am so sorry," she said, softly; "I have pained you." The look, the +touch, the tender voice--which was it? He shuddered and gazed upon the +little hand and then into her eyes. Mary drew back, wondering; she read +him aright. Love in such natures is not a growth. It is born as a flash +of light. Yet she did not realize the full significance of the +discovery. Then, oh, wonderful power of nature, she turned upon him her +large, melting eyes and gave him one swift message of deepest sympathy. +Again he shuddered and the faintest crimson flushed his cheeks. + +They went with Virdow to see the wing-room, of which she had heard so +much, to look into the little cabinets, where he made his photographs, +to handle his weapons, view his favorite books and all the curious +little surroundings of his daily life; she went with an old man and a +child. Her girlish interest was infectious; Virdow threw off his +speculations and let himself drift with the new day, and Gerald was as a +smiling boy. + +They even ventured with unconventional daring to peep into the +glass-room. Standing on the threshold, the girl gazed in with surprise +and delight. + +"How novel and how simple!" she exclaimed; "and to think of having the +stars for friends all night!" He laughed silently and nodded his head; +here was one who understood. + +And then her eyes caught a glimpse of the marble bust, which Gerald had +polished and cleared of its discolorations. She made them bring it and +place it before her. A puzzled look overspread her face as she glanced +from Gerald to the marble and back again. + +"Strange, strange," she said; "sit here, Mr. Gerald, sit here, with your +head by this one, and let me see." White now as the marble itself, but +controlled by the new power that had enthralled, he obeyed; the two +faces looked forward upon the girl, feature for feature. Even the pose +was the same. + +"It was well done," she said. "I never saw a more perfect resemblance, +and yet"--going to one side--"the profile is that of Mr. Edward!" The +young man uttered no sound; he was, in the swift passing of the one +bright hour of his life, as the marble itself. But as he remained a +moment under the spell of despair that overran him, Gen. Evan stood in +the door. Only Mary caught the words in his sharp, half-smothered +exclamation as he started back. They were: "It is true!" He came forward +and, taking up the marble, looked long and tenderly into the face, and +bowing his head gave way to his tears. + +One by one they withdrew--Virdow, Mary, Edward. Only Gerald remained, +gazing curiously into the general's face and thinking. Then tenderly the +old man replaced the bust upon the table, and, standing above his head, +and said with infinite tenderness: + +"Gerald, you do not know me; if God wills it you will know me some day! +That marble upon the table is the carved face of my daughter--Marion +Evan." + +"Then you are Gen. Evan." The young man spoke the words coolly and +without emotion. + +"Yes. Nearly thirty years ago she left me--without a farewell until too +late, with no human being in all the world to love, none to care for +me." + +"So Rita told me." The words were little more than a whisper. + +"I did not curse her; I disowned her and sought to forget. I could not. +Then I began to cry out for her in the night--in my loneliness--do you +know what that word means?" + +"Do I know?" The pathos in the echo was beyond description. + +"And then I began a search that ended only when ten years had buried all +hopes. No tidings, no word after her first letter ever reached me. She +is dead, I believe; but recently some of the mystery has been untangled. +I begin to know, to believe that there has been an awful error +somewhere. She did come back. Her child was born and Rita cared for it. +As God is my judge, I believe that you are that child! Tell me, do you +remember, have you any knowledge that will help me to unravel this +tangled----" + +"You are simply mistaken, general," said the young man, without moving +other than to fold his arms and sink back into his chair. "I am not the +son of Marion Evan." Speechless for a moment, the general gazed upon his +companion. + +"I thought I was," continued Gerald; "I hoped I was. My God! My God! I +tried to be! I have exhausted almost life itself to make the truth a +lie, and the lie a truth! I have struggled with this secret here for +twenty years or more; I have studied every phase of life; I well-nigh +broke Rita's heart. Poor honest Rita! + +"She told me what they claimed--she was too honest to conceal that--and +what she believed; she was too human to conceal that; and then left me +to judge. The woman they would have me own as my mother left me, a +lonely babe, to the care of strangers; to grow up ill-taught, unguided, +frail and haunted with a sickening fear. She has left me twenty-seven +years. Rita stayed. If I were sick, Rita was by me. If I was crazed, +Rita was there to calm. Sleepless by night, sleepless by day, she loved +and comforted and blessed me." He had risen in his growing excitement. +"I ask you, General, who have known life better than I, which of the two +was my mother? Let me answer; you will not. The woman of thirty years +ago is nothing to me; she was once. That has passed. When Rita lay dead +in her coffin I kissed her lips at last and called her mother. I would +have killed myself afterward--life seemed useless--but not so now. It +may be a terrible thing to be Rita's son; I suppose it is, but as before +God, I thank Him that I have come to believe that there are no ties of +blood between me and the woman who was false to both father and child, +and in all probability deserted her husband." + +Gen. Evan turned abruptly and rushed from the room. Edward saw his face +as he passed out through the hall and did not speak. With courtly +dignity he took Mary to the buggy and stood with bowed head until they +were gone. He then returned to the glass-room. Gerald stood among the +ruins of a drawing and the fragments of the marble bust lay on the +floor. One glance at this scene and the blazing eyes of the man was +sufficient. Evan had failed. + +"Tell them," exclaimed Gerald, "that even the son of a slave is +dishonored, when they seek to link him to a woman who abandons her +child." + +"What is it," asked Virdow, in a whisper, coming to Edward's side. +Edward shook his head and drew him from the room. + +"He does not know what he is saying." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +UNDER THE SPELL. + + +The autumn days ran out and in the depth of the southern woods, here and +there, the black gums and sweet gums began to flame. And with them came +the day when the bandages were removed from the eyes of the gentle woman +at the hall. The family gathered about the little figure in the +sitting-room. Edward Morgan with them, and Col. Montjoy lowered the +bandage. The room had been darkened and all light except what came +through one open shutter had been excluded. There was a moment of +painful silence; Mary tightly clasping her mother's hands. The invalid +turned her face to the right and left, and then to the window. + +"Light," she said gently. "I see." + +"Thank God!" The words burst from the old man's lips and his arms went +around mother and daughter at once. For quicker than he the girl had +glided in between them and was clasping the beloved form. Edward said a +few words of congratulation and passed outside. The scene was sacred. + +Then came days of practice. The eyes so long darkened must be accustomed +to the light and not strained. Upon that weak vision, little by little, +came back the world, the trees and flowers, the faces of husband and +daughter and friends. It was a joyful season at the hall. + +A little sadder, a little sterner than usual, but with his fine face +flushed in sympathetic feeling, the old general came to add his +congratulations. Now nothing remained but to prepare for Paris, and all +was bustle. + +A few more nights and then--departure! + +Mary was at the piano, playing the simple music of the south and singing +the songs which were a part of the air she had breathed all her +life--the folk songs of the blacks. + +Col. Montjoy had the Duchess on his lap to hear "the little boy in his +watch crack hickory nuts" and the monotonous cracking of the nuts +mingling with the melody of the musician had put both asleep. + +Mary and Edward went to the veranda, and to them across the field came +the measured tread of feet, the call of the fiddler, and now and then +strains of music, such as the negro prefers. + +Edward proposed an excursion to witness the dance, and the girl assented +gladly. She was herself a born dancer; one whose feet were set to rhythm +in infancy. + +They reached the long house, a spacious one-room edifice, with low +rafters but a broad expanse of floor, and stood at the door. Couple +after couple passed by in the grand promenade, the variety and +incongruities of colors amusing Edward greatly. Every girl in passing +called repeatedly to "missy," the name by which Mary was known on the +plantation, and their dusky escorts bowed awkwardly and smiled. + +Suddenly the lines separated and a couple began to dance. Edward, who +had seen the dancers of most nations, was delighted with the abandon of +these. The man pursued the girl through the ranks, she eluding him with +ease, as he was purposely obstructed by every one. His object was to +keep as near her as possible for the final scene. At last she reappeared +in the open space and hesitating a moment, her dusky face wreathed in +smiles, darted through the doorway. There was a shout as her escort +followed. If he could catch her before she reëntered at the opposite +door she paid the penalty. Before Edward realized the situation the girl +was behind him. He stepped the wrong way, there was a collision, and ere +she could recover, her pursuer had her in his arms. There was a moment's +struggle; his distinct smack proved his success, and if it had not, the +resounding slap from the broad hand of his captive would have betrayed +matters. + +On went the dance. Mary stood patting time to the music of the violin in +the hands of old Morris, the presiding genius of the festival, who bent +and genuflected to suit the requirements of his task. As the revel grew +wilder, as it always does under the stimulus of a spectator's presence, +she motioned to Edward, and entering, stood by the player. + +"In all your skill," she said, "you cannot equal this." For reply the +young man, taking advantage of a pause in the rout, reached over and +took the well-worn instrument from the hands of the old man. There was a +buzz of interest. Catching the spirit of the scene he drew the bow and +gave them the wild dance music of the Hungarians. They responded +enthusiastically and the player did not fail. + +Then, when the tumult had reached its climax, there was a crash, and +with bow in air Edward, flushed and excited, stood gazing upon the +crowd. Then forty voices shouted: + +"Missy! Missy!" On the impulse of the moment they cheered and clapped +their hands. + +All eyes were turned to Mary. She looked into the face of the player; +his eyes challenged hers and she responded, instinctively the dusky +figures shrank to the wall and alone, undaunted, the slender girl stood +in the middle of the deserted floor. Edward played the gypsy dance, +increasing the time until it was a passionate melody, and Mary began. +Her lithe form swayed and bent and glided in perfect response to the +player, the little feet twinkling almost unseen upon the sandy boards. +Such grace, such allurements, he had never before dreamed of. And +finally, breathless, she stood one moment, her hand uplifted, the +triumphant interpreter of his melody. With mischievous smile, she sprang +from the door, her face turned backward for one instant. + +Releasing the instrument, Edward followed in perfect forgetfulness of +self and situation. But when, puzzled, he appeared alone at the opposite +door, he heard her laugh in the distance--and memory overwhelmed him +with her tide. + +He was pale and startled and the company was laughing. He cast a handful +of money among them and in the confusion that followed made his escape. +Mary was waiting demurely in the path. + +"It was perfect," he said, breaking the awkward silence. + +"Any one could dance to that music," was her reply. + +Silently they began their return. An old woman sat in her cabin door, a +fire of chunks making a red spot in the gloom behind. + +"We go to-morrow, Aunt Sylla. Is it for good or ill?" The woman was old +and wrinkled. She was the focus of all local superstition; one of the +ante-bellum voodoos. If her pewter spoons had been gold, her few beads +diamonds, she might have left the doors unbarred without danger. + +Mary had paused and asked the question to draw out the odd character for +her friend. + +"In the woods the clocks of heaven strike 11! Jeffers, who was never +born, speaks out," was the strange reply. + +"In the woods," said Mary, thoughtfully, "the dew drips tinkling from +the leaves; Jeffers, the redbird, was never born, but hatched. What does +he say, Aunt Sylla?" The woman was trying to light her pipe. Absence of +tobacco was the main cause of her failure. Edward crushed a cigar and +handed it to her. When she had lighted it she lifted the blazing chunk +and her faded eyes looked steadily upon the young man. + +"He says the gentleman will come some day and bring much tobacco." The +girl laughed, but the darkness hid her blushes. + +"In the meantime," said Edward cheerfully, placing a silver coin in her +hand, "you can tell your friend Jeffers that you are supplied." + +The negro's prophecy is usually based on shrewd guesses. Sylla grasped +the coin with the eagerness of a child receiving a new doll. She pointed +her finger at him and looked to the girl. Mary laughed. + +"Keep still a moment, Mr. Morgan," she said, "I must rob you." + +She took a strand or two of his hair between her little fingers and +plucked them out. Edward would not have flinched had there been fifty. +"Now something you have worn--what can it be? Oh, a button." She took +his penknife and cut from his coat sleeve one of its buttons. "There, +Aunt Sylla, if you are not successful with them I shall never forgive +you." The old woman took the hair and the button and relapsed into +silent smoking. + +"I am a little curious to know what she is going to do with those +things," said Edward. Mary looked at him shyly. + +"She is going to protect you," she said. "She will mix a little ground +glass and a drop of chicken blood with them, and sew all in a tiny bag. +No negro alive or dead would touch you then for the universe, and should +you touch one of them with that charm it would give them catalepsy. You +will get it to-morrow." + +"She is arming me with a terrible power at small cost," he replied, +dryly. + +"Old Sylla is a prophetess," said the girl, "as well as a voodoo, and +there is with us a tradition that death in the family will follow her +every visit to the house. It is strange, but within our memory it has +proved true. My infant brother, my only sister, mamma's brother, papa's +sister, an invalid northern cousin spending the winter here--all their +deaths were preceded by the appearance of old Sylla." + +"And is her success in prophecy as marked?" + +"Yes, so far as I know." She hesitated a moment. "Her prediction as to +myself has not had time to mature." + +"And what was the prediction?" + +"That some day a stranger would carry me into a strange land," she said, +smiling; "and--break my heart." + +They had reached the gate; except where the one light burned in the +sitting-room all was darkness and silence. Edward said gently, as he +stood holding open the gate: + +"I am a stranger and shortly I will take you into a strange land, but +may God forget me if I break your heart." She did not reply, but with +face averted passed in. The household was asleep. She carried the lamp +to his door and opened it. He took it and then her hand. For a moment +they looked into each other's eyes; then, gravely lifting the little +hand, he kissed it. + +"May God forget me," he said again, "if I break your heart." He held the +door open until she had passed down the stairs, her flushed face never +lifted again to his. + +And then with the shutting of the door came darkness. But in the gloom a +white figure came from the front doorway, stood listening at the stairs +and then as noiseless as a sunbeam glided down into the hall below. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +BARKSDALE'S WARNING. + + +Edward was awakened by a cowhorn blown just before the peep of day and +the frantic baying of the hounds that Charlie Possum was bringing to the +house. As he dressed and came forth the echos of horses' feet were heard +in the distance upon the public roads and the cry of other hounds, and +as the gray dawn lighted the east the outer yard presented an animated +scene. About a dozen riders were dismounting or dismounted were trying +to force a place between the multitude of dogs, great and small, that +were settling old and new disputes rough and tumble, tooth and toe nail. + +There was little of the holiday attire that is usually seen at club +meets; the riders wore rough clothing and caps and their small slender +horses were accoutered with saddles and bridles that had been distinctly +"worn." But about all was a business air and promise of genuine sport. +Many of the dogs were of the old "July" stock, descendants of a famous +Maryland dog of 40 years before, whose progeny scattered throughout +Georgia constitute canine aristocracy wherever found--a slender-flanked, +fullchested animal, with markings of black and tan. Among them were +their English rivals of larger form and marked with blotches of red and +white. + +The servants were busy getting light refreshments for the riders. Mary +was the superintendent of this, but at the same time she was presiding +over a ceremony dear to the old south at all hours of the day. Into each +generous cut glass goblet that lined her little side table she poured a +few spoonsful of sweetened water, packing them with crushed ice. Down +through the little arctic heaps, a wineglassful of each, she poured a +ruby liquor grown old in the deep cellar, and planted above the radiated +pyramids little forests of mint. Nothing but silver is worthy to hold +such works of art, and so getting out an old, well-worn Montjoy silver, +its legend and crest almost faded into the general smoothness of their +background, she placed them there and began her ministry in the long +dining room. She made a pretty picture as she passed among the men, her +short, narrowskirted riding dress and little felt hat setting off her +lithe, active form perfectly. The ceremony was simple and short. +Everybody was eager to be off. + +Just as they mounted and rode out, Mary appeared from somewhere, mounted +upon a half broken colt, that betrayed a tendency to curve herself into +a half-moon, and gallop broadside against fences and trees that were +inconveniently located. + +Edward viewed the mount with alarm. Though a fairly good rider, he was +not up to cross country runs and he questioned his ability to be of much +assistance should the half broken animal bolt, with its fair burden. He +proposed an exchange, but Mary laughed at the idea. + +"Lorna is all right," she said, "but you could never get her out of the +yard. She will steady up after awhile, and the best of horses can't beat +her in getting round corners and over fences." + +"Daughter," said the colonel, checking his horse as he prepared to +follow, "are you sure of Lorna?" + +"Perfectly. She is going to do her worst for a while and then her best. +Steady girl; don't disgrace yourself before company." Lorna danced and +tossed her head and chewed upon her bit with impatience. + +At that moment Barksdale rode into the yard, mounted upon a tall +thoroughbred, his equipments perfect, dress elegant, seat easy and +carriage erect. He seemed to Edward a perfect horseman. He gravely +saluted them both. + +"I see that I am in the nick of time, Miss Mary; I was afraid it was +late." + +"It is late," said the girl, "but this time it is a cat and doesn't +matter. The scent will lie long after sun-up." They were following then +and the conversation was difficult. Already the dark line of men was +disappearing down the line in its yet unbroken shadow. A mile away the +party turned into the low grounds and here the general met them riding +his great roan and, as always when mounted, having the appearance of an +officer on parade. He came up to the three figures in the rear and +saluted them cheerily. His old spirits seemed to have returned. + +They entered into a broad valley that had been fallow for several years. +Along the little stream that threaded its way down the middle with +zigzag indecision, grew the southern cane from 6 to 15 feet high; the +mass a hundred yards broad in places, and at others narrowing down to +fords. This cane growing erect is impenetrable for horses. The rest of +the valley, half a mile wide, was grown up in sage, broomstraw, little +pines and briars. + +The general shape of the ground was that of the letter Y, the stem being +the creek, and the arms its two feeders leading in from the hills. To +start at the lower end of the letter, travel up and out one arm to its +end, and return to the starting point, meant an eight mile ride, if the +cat kept to the cane as was likely. It was a mile across from arm to +arm, without cover except about an acre of sparse, low cane half way +between. When Mary came up to the leading riders, with her escort, they +were discussing a fact that all seemed to regard as significant. One of +the old dogs, "Leader," had uttered a sharp, quick yelp. All other dogs +were focusing toward her; their dark figures visible here and there as +they threaded the tangled way. Suddenly an angry, excited baying in +shrill falsetto was heard, and Evan shouted: "That's my puppy Carlo! +Where are your English dogs?" + +"Wait," said one of the party. "The English dogs will be in at start and +finish." Suddenly "Leader" opened fullmouthed, a second ahead of her +puppy, and the next instant, pandemonium broke loose. Forty-seven dogs +were racing in full cry up the stream. A dozen excited men were +following, with as much noise and skill as they could command. + +"A cat, by ----" exclaimed one of the neighbors. "I saw him!" Barksdale +led the way for the little group behind. Edward could have closed in, +but his anxiety for the girl was now developed into genuine fear. The +tumult was the signal for Lorna to begin a series of equine +calisthenics, more distinguished for violence than beauty. For she +planted her heels in the face of nature repeatedly, seemingly in an +impartial determination to destroy all the cardinal points of the +compass. This exercise she varied with agile leaps upward, and bunching +of feet as she came down. + +Edward was about to dismount to take hold of her when Lorna, probably +discerning that it was unnecessary to get rid of her rider before +joining the rout, went past him like a leaf upon a hurricane. He planted +spurs in his horse's side and followed with equal speed, but she was now +far ahead. He saw her skim past Barksdale, and that gentleman with but a +slight motion of his knees increased his speed. And then Lorna and the +thoroughbred went straight into the wall of cane, but instead of a +headlong plunge and a mixture of human being and struggling animal +floundering in the break, he simply saw--nothing. The pair went out of +sight like an awkwardly snuffed candle. + +He had no time to wonder; the next instant he was going through a hog +path in the cane, the tall stems rattling madly against his knees, his +eyes dazed by the rushing past of so many near and separate points of +vision. Then he rose in air. There was a flash of water underneath and +down he came into the path. The open world burst upon him again like a +beautiful picture. He only saw the flying figure of the girl upon a mad +colt. Was she trying in vain to hold it? Would she lose her head? Would +her nerve forsake her? Heavens!! She is plying her whip with might and +main, and the man on the thoroughbred at her heels looks back over his +shoulder into Edward's white face and smiles. Then they disappear into +the green wall again and again the world is reborn on the other side. + +The pace tells. One by one Edward passes the riders. The old general +comes up at last. As Mary goes by, he gives what Edward supposes to be +the old rebel yell of history and then they are out of the end of one +arm of the Y and heading for the clump of cane. + +There has been little dodging. With so many dogs plunging up both sides +of the creek, and picking up its trail as he crossed and re-crossed, the +cat had finally to adopt a straightaway program as the cover would +permit. If it dodged once in this little bit of small cane it was lost. +It did not dodge. It went straight into the end of the other arm of the +Y and to the astonishment of all the hunters apparently went out again +and across a sedge field toward the hills. + +It was then a straight race of half a mile and the dogs won. They +snarled and pulled and fought around the carcass, when Lorna went +directly over them and was "sawed up" at the edge of the woods 50 yards +further. One of the hunters jumped down and plucked the carcass from the +dogs and held it up. It was a gray fox. The dogs had run over him in the +little cane and indulged in a view chase. The cat was elsewhere! + +Exclamations of disgust were heard on all sides and Evan looked +anxiously among the gathering dogs. + +"Where is Carlo?" he asked of several. "Has anybody seen Carlo?" Nobody +had, apparently; but at that moment in the distance, down the arm of the +Y which Reynard had crossed, they heard a sharp, puppyish cry, +interspersed with the fuller voicings of an old dog. + +"There is Carlo!" shouted the old gentleman in a stentorian voice. "And +Leader," interpolated Montjoy. + +"Come on with your English dogs! Ha, ha, ha!" and Evan was gone. But +Lorna was done for the day. She distinctly refused to become enthused +any more. She had carried her rider first in at the death in one race +and the bush had been handed to Mary. Lorna responded to the efforts to +force her, by indulging in her absurd half-moon antics. Barksdale and +Edward turned back. + +"It will come around on the same circuit," said Barksdale, speaking of +the cat; "let us ride out into the open space and see it." They took +position and listened. Two miles away, about at the fork of the Y, they +could hear the echo of the tumult. If the cat went down the main stem +the day was probably spoiled; if it came back up the other branch as +before, they were in good position. + +Nearer and nearer came the rout and then the dogs swarmed all over the +lone acre of cane. The animal had dodged back from the horsemen standing +there and was now surrounded. + +The dogs ran here and there trotting along outside the cane careless and +fagged suddenly became animated again and sprang upon a crouching form, +whose eyeballs could even from a distance, be seen to roll and glare +frightfully. There was one motion, the yelping puppy went heels over +head with a wound from neck to hip, and Carlo had learned to respect the +wild cat. But the next instant a dozen dogs were rolling in horrid +combat with the animal and then a score were pulling at the gray and tan +form that offered no more resistance. + +"Thirty-five pounds," said an expert, holding up the dead cat. A front +foot was cut off and passed up for examination. It was as large as a +man's fist and the claws were like the talons of a condor. + +The general was down, examining the wound of poor Carlo, and, all +rivalry cast aside, the experienced hunters closed in to help him. It +was not a question now of Maryland or England; a puppy that would hold a +trail when abandoned by a pack of old dogs whom it was accustomed to +follow and rely upon its own judgment as to wherein lay its duty, and +first of all, after a 16 mile run, plants its teeth in the quarry--was +now more than a puppy. Ask any old fox hunter and he will prophesy that +from the day of the killing of the cat, whenever Carlo opened in a hunt, +no matter how much the other dogs might be interested, they would +suspend judgment and flock to him. That day made Carlo a Napoleon among +canines. + +Edward was an interested observer of the gentle surgery being practiced +upon the dog. At length he ventured to ask a question. "What is his +name, General?" + +"Carlo." + +"And I presume he is not what you call an English dog?" + +The general looked at him fiercely; then his features relaxed. "Go away, +Edward, go away--and give the dog a chance." + +Barksdale had ridden to one side with Mary and was gravely studying the +scene. Presently he said abruptly: + +"When is it you leave for Europe?" + +"To-morrow." + +"There is a matter pending," he said quietly, "that renders it +peculiarly unfortunate." She regarded him with surprise. "What I say is +for you alone. I know Mr. Morgan has been out here for several days and +has probably not been made aware of what is talked in town." Briefly he +acquainted her with the rumors afloat and seeing her deep concern and +distress added: "The affair is trivial with Mr. Morgan; he can easily +silence the talk, but in his absence, if skillfully managed, it can +affect his reputation seriously." + +"Skillfully managed?" + +"Do you suppose that Mr. Morgan is without enemies?" + +"Who could be his enemy?" She asked quickly, then flushed and was +silent. + +"I will not risk an injustice to innocent people," he said slowly, "but +he has enemies, I leave it to you to decide whether to acquaint him with +what is going on or not. I do not even advise you. But I came on this +hunt to acquaint you with the situation. If the man whom I suspect is +guilty in this matter he will not leave a stone unturned to destroy his +rival. It is nearer home from this point than from the hall and I have +business waiting. Good-bye." + +He saluted Morgan, who was approaching, and went rapidly away. Mary rode +home in silence, returning only monosyllables to her escort. But when +she spoke of being doubtful of their ability to get ready by morning and +Edward proposed to cancel his order for berths, she hesitated. After all +the affair was ridiculous. She let it pass from her mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +THE HIDDEN HAND. + + +It matters little what kind of seed is planted, it finds its proper +elements in the soil. So with rumors. There is never a rumor so wild, +but that finds a place for its roots. + +It soon reached the coroner, that zealous officer whose compensation is +based upon fees, that his exchequer had been defrauded by the improper +burial of a woman out at Ilexhurst. She had dropped dead, and there had +not been a witness. An inquest was proper; was necessary. He began an +investigation. And then appeared in the brevity columns of one of the +papers the incipient scandal: + +"It is whispered that suspicions of foul play are entertained in +connection with Rita, the housekeeper of the late John Morgan at +Ilexhurst. The coroner will investigate." + +And the next day the following: + +"Our vigilant coroner has made inquiry into the death and burial of Rita +Morgan, and feels that the circumstances demand a disinterment and +examination of the body. So far the rumors of foul play come from +negroes only. It seems that Mr. Edward Morgan found the woman lying in +his yard, and that she died almost immediately after the discovery. It +was upon the night but one preceding his meeting with Mr. Royson on the +field of honor, and during his absence next day the body was hurriedly +interred. There is little doubt that the woman came to her death from +natural causes, but it is known that she had few if any friends among +her race, and other circumstances attending her demise are such that the +body will be disinterred and examined for evidence." + +Even this did not especially interest the public. But when next day the +morning papers came out with triple headlines the first of which was +"Murdered," followed by a succinct account of the disinterment of Rita +Morgan, as she was called, with the discovery of a cut on the left +temple and a wound in the back of the head that had crushed in the +skull, the public was startled. No charge was made against Edward +Morgan, no connection hinted at, but it was stated in the history of the +woman, that she was the individual referred to in Royson's famous letter +on which the duel had been fought, and that she died suddenly upon the +day it was published. The paper said that it was unfortunate that Mr. +Morgan had left several days before for Paris, and had sailed that +morning from New York. + +Then the public tongue began to wag and the public mind to wait +impatiently for the inquest. + +The inquest was held in due form. The surgeons designated to examine the +supposed wounds reported them genuine, the cut in the temple trifling, +the blow in the back of the head sufficient to have caused death. + +A violent discussion ensued when the jury came to make up its verdict, +but the conservative members carried the day. A verdict of "death by a +blow upon the head by a weapon in the hands of a person or persons +unknown to the jury" was rendered; the body reinterred and the crowds of +curiosity seekers withdrew from Ilexhurst. + +Unfortunately during the era of excitement Gerald was locked in his +room, lost in the contemplation of some question of memory that had come +upon him, and he was not summoned as a witness, from the fact that in no +way had he been mentioned in the case, except by Gen. Evan, who +testified that he was asleep when the death occurred. The German +professor and Gen. Evan were witnesses and gave their testimony readily. + +Evan explained that, although present at the finding of the body, he +left immediately to meet a gentleman who had called, and did not return. +When asked as to Edward's actions he admitted that they were excited, +but stated that other matters, naming them briefly, were engaging them +at the same time and that they were of a disturbing nature. The woman, +he said, had first attracted Edward's attention by falling against the +glass, which she was evidently looking through, and which she broke in +her fall. If she was struck, it was probably at that moment. + +He was positive in his belief that at the time the sound of falling +glass was heard Edward was in the room, but he would not state it under +oath as a fact. It was this evidence that carried the day. + +When asked where was Edward Morgan and the reason for his absence, he +said that he had gone as the escort of Mrs. Montjoy to Paris, where her +eyes were to be examined, and that the trip had been contemplated for +several weeks. Also that he would return in less than a month. + +Nevertheless, the gravest of comments began to be heard upon the +streets, and prophecies were plenty that Edward would never return. + +And into these began to creep a word now and then for Royson. "He knew +more than he could prove," "was the victim of circumstances," "a bold +fellow," etc., were fragments of conversation connected with his name. + +"We fought out that issue once," he said, briefly, when asked directly +about the character of the woman Rita, "and it is settled so far as I am +concerned." And the public liked the answer. + +No charge, however, had been brought against Edward Morgan; the matter +was simply one that disturbed the public; it wanted his explanation and +his presence. But behind it all, behind the hesitancy which the stern, +open championship of Evan and Montjoy commanded, lay the proposition +that of all people in the world only Edward Morgan could have been +benefited by the death of the woman; that he was the only person present +and that she died a violent death. And people would talk. + +Then came a greater shock. A little paper, the Tell-Tale, published in +an adjoining city and deriving its support from the publication of +scandals, in which the victim was described without naming, was cried +upon the street. Copies were sold by the hundreds, then thousands. It +practically charged that Edward Morgan was the son of Rita Morgan; that +upon finding Royson possessed of his secret he first killed the woman +and then tried to kill that gentleman in a duel into which Morgan went +with everything to gain and nothing to lose; that upon seeing the storm +gathering he had fled the country, under the pretense of escorting a +very estimable young lady and her mother abroad, the latter going to +have her eyes examined by a Parisian expert, the celebrated Moreau. + +It proceeded further; the young man had completely hoodwinked and +deceived the family to which these ladies belonged, and, it was +generally understood, would some day become the husband and son-in-law. +Every sensational feature that could be imagined was brought out--even +Gerald did not escape. He was put in as the legitimate heir of John +Morgan; the child of a secret marriage, a _non compos mentis_ whose +property was being enjoyed by the other. + +The excitement in the city reached white heat. Col. Montjoy and Gen. +Evan came out in cards and denounced the author of the letter an +infamous liar, and made efforts to bring the editor of the sheet into +court. He could not be found. + +Days slipped by, and then came the climax! One of the sensational papers +of New York published a four-column illustrated article headed "A +Southern Tragedy," which pretended to give the history of all the +Morgans for fifty years or more. In this story the writer displayed +considerable literary ability, and the situations were dramatically set +forth. Pictures of Ilexhurst were given; the murder of a negro woman in +the night and a fancy sketch of Edward. The crowning shame was bold +type. No such sensation had been known since the race riots of 1874. + +In reply to this Montjoy and Evan also telegraphed fiery denunciations +and demanded the author's name. Their telegrams were published, and +demands treated with contempt. Norton Montjoy, in New York, had himself +interviewed by rival papers, gave the true history of Morgan and +denounced the story in strong terms. He consulted lawyers and was +informed that the Montjoys had no right of action. + +Court met and the grand jury conferred. Here was evidence of murder, and +here was a direct published charge. In vain Evan and Virdow testified +before it. The strong influence of the former could not carry the day. +The jury itself was political. It was part of the Swearingen ring. When +it had completed its labors and returned its batch of bills, it was +known in a few hours that Edward Morgan had been indicted for the murder +of Rita Morgan. + +Grief and distress unspeakable reigned in the houses of Gen. Evan and +Col. Montjoy, and in his bachelor quarters that night one man sat with +his face upon his hands and thought out all of the details of the sad +catastrophe. An unspeakable sorrow shone in his big eyes. Barksdale had +been touched in the tenderest part of his life. Morgan he admired and +respected, but the name of the woman he loved had been bespattered with +mud. With him there rested no duty. Had the circumstances been +different, there would have been a tragedy at the expense of his last +dollar--and he was rich. + +At the expense even of his enterprise and his business reputation, he +would have found the author of those letters and have shot him to death +at the door of a church, if necessary. There is one point on which the +south has suffered no change. + +Morgan, he felt, would do the same, but now, alas, Morgan was indicted +for another murder, and afterward it would be too late. Too late! He +sprang to his feet and gave vent to a frightful malediction; then he +grew calm through sheer astonishment. Without knock or inquiry his door +was thrown open and Gerald Morgan rushed into the room. + +When Barksdale had last seen this man he doubted his ability to stand +the nervous strain put upon him, but here was evidence of an excitement +tenfold greater. Gerald quivered like an overtaxed engine, and deep in +the pale face the blazing eyes shone with a horrible fierceness. The cry +he uttered as he paused before Barksdale was so unearthly that he +unconsciously drew back. The young man was unrolling some papers. Upon +them were the scenes of the grave as he drew them--the open coffin, the +shrunken face of the woman--and then, in all its repulsive exactness, +the face of the man who had turned upon the artist under the electric +light! + +"What does it mean, my friend?" said Barksdale, seeking by a forced +calmness to reduce the almost irrational visitor to reason again. + +"What?" exclaimed Gerald; "don't you understand? The man uncovered that +coffin; he struck that blow upon poor dead Rita's head! I saw him face +to face and drew those pictures that night. There is the date." + +"You saw him?" Barksdale could not grasp the truth for an instant. + +"I saw him!" + +"Where is he now?" + +"I do not know; I do not know!" A thrill ran through the now eager man, +and he felt that instead of calming the excitement of his visitor he was +getting infected by it. He sat down deliberately. + +"Take a seat, Mr. Morgan, and tell me about it." But Gerald dropped the +pictures and stood over them. + +"There was the grave," he said, "and the man was down in it; I stood up +here and lifted a spade, but then he had struck and was arranging her +hair. If he had struck her again I would have killed him. I wanted to +see what it was about. I wanted to see the man. He fled, and then I +followed. Downtown I saw him under an electric light and got his face. +He was the man, the infamous, cowardly scoundrel who struck poor Rita in +her coffin; but why--why should any one want to strike Rita? I can't +see. I can't see. And then to charge Edward with it!" + +Barksdale's blood ran cold during the recital, the scene so vividly +pictured, the uncanny face before him. It was horrible. But over all +came the realization that some hidden hand was deliberately striking at +the life of Edward Morgan through the grave of the woman. The +cowardliness, the infamy, the cruelty was overpowering. He turned away +his face. + +But the next instant he was cool. It was a frail and doubtful barrier +between Edward and ruin, this mind unfolding its secret. If it failed +there was no other witness. + +"What became of the man, did you say?" + +"I do not know. I wanted his face; I got it." + +"Where did you last see him?" + +"On the street." Barksdale arose deliberately. + +"Mr. Morgan, how did you come here?" + +"I suppose I walked. I want you to help me find the man who struck the +blow." + +"You are right, we must find the man. Now, I have a request to make. +Edward trusted to my judgment in the other affair, and it came out +right, did it not?" + +"Yes. That is why I have come to you." + +"Trust me again. Go home now and take that picture. Preserve it as you +would your life, for on it may hang the life of Edward Morgan. You +understand? And do not open your lips on this subject to any one until I +see you again." + +Gerald rolled up the paper and turned away abruptly. Barksdale followed +him down the steps and called a hack. + +"Your health," he said to Gerald, as he gently forced him into the +carriage, "must not be risked." And to the driver, slipping a fee in his +hand: "Take Mr. Morgan to Ilexhurst. Remember, Mr. Morgan," he called +out. + +"I remember," was the reply. "I never forget. Would to God I could." + +Barksdale walked rapidly to the livery stable. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +WITH THE WOMAN WHO LOVED HIM. + + +Edward Morgan gave himself up to the dream. The flying train sped +onward, out of the pine forest, into the hills and the shadow of +mountains, into the broad world of life and great cities. + +They had the car almost to themselves, for the northward travel is small +at that season. + +Before him was the little woman of the motherly face and smooth, soft +hand, and behind her, lost in the contemplation of the light literature +with which he had surrounded her, was the girl about whom all the +tendrils of his hungry life were twining. He could see her half-profile, +the contour of the smooth cheek, the droop of eyelid, the fluff of curly +hair over her brow, and the shapely little head. He was content. + +It was a novel and suggestive situation. And yet--only a dream. No +matter how far he wandered, how real seemed the vision, it always ended +there--it was but a dream, a waking dream. He had at last no part in her +life; he would never have. + +And yet again, why not? The world was large; he felt its largeness as +they rushed from center to center, saw the teeming crowds here, the +far-stretching farms and dwellings there. The world was large, and they +were at best but a man and a woman. If she loved him what did it matter? +It meant only a prolonged and indefinite stay abroad in the land he best +knew; all its pleasures, its comforts, his--and hers. + +If only she loved him! He lived over every minute detail of their short +companionship, from the hour he saw her, the little madonna, until he +kissed her hand and promised unnecessarily that he would never break her +heart. A strange comfort followed this realization. Come what might, +humiliation, disgrace, separation, she loved him! + +His fixed gaze as he dreamed had its effect; she looked up from her +pictures and back to him. + +A rush of emotions swept away his mood; he rose almost angrily; it was a +question between him and his Savior only. God had made the world and +named its holiest passion love, and if they loved blindly, foolishly, +fatally, God, not he, was to blame. He went and sat by her. + +"You puzzle me sometimes," she said. "You are animated and bright +and--well, charming often--and then you seem to go back into your shell +and hide. I am afraid you are not happy, Mr. Morgan." + +"Not happy? Hardly. But then no bachelor can be quite happy," he added, +returning her smile. + +"I should think otherwise," she answered. "When I look about among my +married friends I sometimes wonder why men ever marry. They seem to +surrender so much for so little. I am afraid if I were a bachelor there +isn't a woman living whom I would marry--not if she had the wealth of +Vanderbilt." + +Edward laughed outright. + +"If you were a bachelor," he answered, "you would not have such +thoughts." + +"I don't see why," she said trying to frown. + +"Because you are not a bachelor." + +"Then," she said, mockingly, "I suppose I never will--since I can't be a +bachelor." + +"The mystery to me," said Edward, "is why women ever marry." + +"Because they love," answered the girl. "There is no mystery about +that." + +"But they take on themselves so much care, anxiety, suffering." + +"Love can endure that." + +"And how often it means--death!" + +"And that, too, love does not consider. It would not hesitate if it knew +in advance." + +"You speak for yourself?" + +"Yes, indeed. If I loved, I am afraid I would love blindly, recklessly. +It is the way of Montjoy women--and they say I am all Montjoy." + +"Would you follow barefooted and in rags from city to city behind a man, +drunken and besotted, to sing upon the streets for a crust and sleep +under a hedge, his chances your chances, and you with no claim upon him +save that you loved him once? I have seen it." She shook her head. + +"The man I loved could never sink so low. He would be a gentleman, proud +of his name, of his talents, of his honor. If misfortune came he would +starve under the first hedge before he would lead me out to face a +scornful world. And if it were misfortune only I would sing for +him--yes, if necessary, beg, unknown to him for money to help him in +misfortune. Only let him keep the manliness within him undimmed by act +of his." He gazed into her glowing face. + +"I thank you," he said. "I never understood a true woman's heart +before." + +The express rushed into new and strange scenes. There were battlefields +pointed out by the conductor--mere landscapes only the names of which +were thrilling. Manassas glided by, the birthplace of a great hope that +perished. How often she had heard her father and the general tell of +that battle! + +And then the white shaft of the Washington monument, and the capitol +dome rose in the distance. + +As they glided over the long bridge across the Potomac and touched the +soil of the capital city and the street lights went past, the young +woman viewed the scenes with intense interest. Washington! But for that +infamous assault upon her father, through the man who had been by her +side, he would have walked the streets again, a Southern congressman! + +They took rooms to give the little mamma a good night's rest, and then, +with the same unconventional freedom of the hall, Mary wandered out with +Edward to view the avenue. They went and stood at the foot of that great +white pile which closes one end of the avenue, and were awed into +silence by its grandeur. + +She would see grander sights, but never one that would impress her more. +She thought of her father alone, away back in Georgia, at the old home, +sitting just then upon the porch smoking his pipe. Perhaps the Duchess +was asleep in his lap, perhaps the general had come over to keep him +company, and if so they were talking of the absent ones. Edward saw her +little hand lightly laid upon her eyes for a moment, and comprehended. + +Morning! And now the crowded train sweeps northward through the great +cities and opens up bits of marine views. For the first time the girl +sees a stately ship, with wings unfurled, "go down into the seas," +vanishing upon the hazy horizon, "like some strain of sweet melody +silenced and made visible," as Edward quoted from a far-away poet +friend. + +"And if you will watch it intently," he added, "and forget yourself you +will lose sight of the ship and hear again the melody." And then came +almost endless streets of villages and towns, the smoke of factories, +the clamor and clangor of life massed in a small compass, a lull of the +motion, hurrying crowds and the cheery, flushed face of Norton pressed +to his mother's and to hers. + +The first stage of the journey was over. Across the river rose, in dizzy +disorder and vastness, New York. + +The men clasped hands and looked each other in the eyes, Montjoy +smiling, Morgan grave. It seemed to the latter that the smile of his +friend meant nothing; that behind it lay anxiety, questioning. He did +not waver under the look, and in a moment the hand that held his +tightened again. Morgan had answered. Half the conversation of life is +carried on without words. Morgan had answered, but he could not forget +his friend's questioning gaze. Nor could he forget that his friend had a +wife. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +THE SONG THE OCEAN SANG. + + +The stay of the party in New York was short. Norton was busy with trade +that could not wait. He stole a part of a day, stuffed the pocketbooks +of the ladies with gold, showed them around and then at last they looked +from the deck of a "greyhound" and saw the slopes of Staten island and +the highlands sink low upon the horizon. + +The first night at sea! The traveler never forgets it. Scenes of the +past may shine through it like ink renewed in the dimmed lines of a +palimpsest through later records, but this night stands supreme as if it +were the sum of all. For in this night the fatherland behind and the +heart grown tender in the realization of its isolation, come back again +the olden experiences. Dreams that have passed into the seas of eternity +meet it and shine again. Old loves return and fold their wings, and +hopes grown wrinkled with disappointment throw off dull Time's imprints +and are young once more. + +To the impressionable heart of the girl, the vastness and the solemnity +brought strange thoughts. She stood by the rail, silenced, sad, but not +with the sadness that oppresses. By her was the man who through life's +hidden current had brought her all unknowing into harmony with the +eternal echos rising into her consciousness. + +At last she came back to life's facts. She found her hand in his again, +and gently, without protest, disengaged it. Her face was white and fixed +upon nothingness. + +"Of what are you thinking?" she asked, gently. He started and drew +breath with a gasp. + +"I do not know--of you, I suppose." And then, as she was silent and +embarrassed: "There is a tone in the ocean, a note I have never heard +before, and I have listened on all seas. But here is the new song +different from all. I could listen forever." + +"I have read somewhere," she said, "that all the sound waves escape to +the ocean. They jostle and push against each other where men abound, the +new crowding out the old; but out at sea there is room for all. It may +be that you hear only as your heart is attuned." + +He nodded his head, pleased greatly. + +"Then I have heard to-night," he said, earnestly, "a song of a woman to +the man she loves." + +"But you could not have heard it unless your heart was attuned to love's +melodies. Have you ever loved a woman, Mr. Morgan?" + +He started and his hand tightened upon the guard. + +"I was a boy in heart when I went abroad," he said. "I had never known a +woman's love and sympathy. In Switzerland a little girl gave me a glass +of goat's milk at a cottage door in the mountains. She could not have +been more than 12 years old. I heard her singing as I approached, her +voice marvelous in its power and pathos. Her simple dress was artistic, +her face frank and eyes confiding. I loved her. I painted her picture +and carried her both in my heart and my satchel for three years. I did +not love her and yet I believed I did. But I think that I must have +loved at some time. As you say, I could not have heard if it were not +so." He drew her away and sought the cabin. But when he said good-night +he came and walked the deck for an hour, and once he tossed his arms +above him and cried out in agony: "I cannot! I cannot! The heart was not +made for such a strain!" + + * * * * * + +Six times they saw the sun rise over the path ahead, ascend to the +zenith and sink away, and six times the endless procession of stars +glinted on the myriad facets of the sea. The hundreds of strange faces +about them grew familiar, almost homelike. The ladies made +acquaintances; but Edward none. When they were accessible he never left +their presence, devoting himself with tender solicitude to their +service, reading to them, reciting bits of adventure, explaining the +phenomena of the elements, exhibiting the ship and writing in their +journals the record for the father at home. When they were gone he +walked the deck silent, moody, sad; alone in the multitude. + +People had ceased to interest him. Once only did he break the silence; +from the ship's orchestra he borrowed a violin, and standing upon the +deck, as at first, he found the love-song again and linked it forever +with his life. It was the ocean's gift and he kept it. + +He thought a great deal, but from the facts at home he turned +resolutely. They should not mar the only summer of his heart. "Not now," +he would say to these trooping memories. "After a while you may come and +be heard." + +But of the future he thought and dreamed. He pictured a life with the +woman he loved, in every detail; discounting its pleasures, denying the +possibility of sorrow. There were times when with her he found himself +wishing to be alone that he might review the dream and enlarge it. It +ceased to be a dream, it became a fact, he lived with it and he lived by +it. It was possible no longer; it was certain. Some day he would begin +it; he would tell it to her and make it so beautiful she would consent. + +All this time the elder lady thought, listened and knitted. She was one +of those gentle natures not made for contentions, but for soothing. She +was never idle. Edward found himself watching the busy needles as they +fought for the endless thread, and marveled. What patience! What +continuity! What endurance! + +The needles of good women preach as they labor. He knew the history of +these. For forty years they had labored, those bits of steel in the +velvet fingers. Husband, children, slaves, all had felt upon their feet +the soft summings of their calculations. One whole company of soldiers, +the gallant company her husband had led into Confederate service, had +threaded the Wilderness in her socks, and died nearly all at Malvern +Hill. Down deep under the soil of the old Mother State they planted her +work from sight, and the storms of winter removed its imprints where, +through worn and wasted leather, it had touched virgin soil as the +bleeding survivors came limping home. Forty years had stilled the +thought on which it was based. It was strong and resolute still. Some +day the needles would rust out of sight, the hands be folded in rest and +the thought would be gone. Edward glanced from the woman to the girl. + +"Not so," he said, softly; "the thought will live. Other hands trained +under its sweet ministry will take up the broken threads; the needles +will flash again. Woman's work is never done, and never will be while +love and faith and courage have lodgment upon earth. + +"Did you speak, Mr. Morgan?" + +"Possibly. I have fallen into the habit of thinking aloud. And I was +thinking of you; it must have been a great privilege to call you mother, +Mrs. Montjoy." She smiled a little. + +"I am glad you think so." + +"I have never called any by that name," he said, slowly, looking away. +"I never knew a mother." + +"That will excuse a great many things in a man's life," she said, in +sympathy. "You have no remembrance, then?" + +"None. She died when I was an infant, I suppose, and I grew up, +principally, in schools." + +"And your father?" + +"He also--died." He was reckless for the moment. "Sometimes I think I +will ask you to let me call you--mother. It is late to begin, but think +of a man's living and dying without once speaking the name to a woman." + +"Call me that if you will. You are certainly all that a son could be to +me." + +"Mother," he said, reflectively, "mother," and then looking toward Mary +he saw that, though reading, her face was crimson; "that gives me a +sister, does it not?" he added, to relieve the situation. She glanced +toward him, smiling. + +"As you will, brother Edward--how natural." + +"I like the mother better," he said, after a pause. "I have observed +that brothers do not wear well. I should hate to see the day when it +would not be a pleasure to be with you, Miss Montjoy." He could not +control nor define his mood. + +"Then," she said, with eyes upon the book, "let it not be brother. I +would be sorry to see you drift away--we are all your friends." + +"Friends!" He repeated the word contemplatively. "That is another word I +am not fond of. I have seen so many friends--not my own, but friends of +others! Friends steal your good name, your opportunities, your +happiness, your time and your salvation. Oh, friendship!" + +"What is the matter with you to-day, Mr. Morgan?" said Mary. "I don't +think I ever saw you in just such a frame of mind. What has made you +cynical?" + +"Am I cynical? I did not know it. Possibly I am undergoing a +metamorphosis. Such things occur about us every day. Have you ever seen +the locust, as he is called, come up out of the earth and attach himself +to a tree and hang there brooding, living an absolutely worthless life? +Some day a rent occurs down his own back and out comes the green cicada, +with iridescent wings; no longer a dull plodder, but now a swift +wanderer, merry and musical. So with the people about you. Useless and +unpicturesque for years, they some day suffer a change; a piece of good +luck, success in business; any of these can furnish sunlight, and the +change is born. Behold your clodhopper is a gay fellow." + +"But," said the girl, laughing, "the simile is poor; you do not see the +cicada go back from the happy traveler stage and become a cynic." + +"True. What does become of him? Oh, yes; along comes the ichneumon fly +and by a skillful blow on the spine paralyzes him and then thrusts under +his skin an egg to be warmed into life by its departing heat. That is +the conclusion; your gay fellow and careless traveler gets an +overwhelming blow; an idea or a fact, or a bit of information to brood +upon; and some day it kills him." + +She was silent, trying to read the meaning in his words. What idea, what +fact, what overwhelming blow were killing him? Something, she was sure, +had disturbed him. She had felt it for weeks. + +Mrs. Montjoy expressed a desire to go to her stateroom, and Edward +accompanied her. The girl had ceased reading and sat with her chin in +hand, revolving the matter. After he had resumed his position she turned +to find his gaze upon her. They walked to the deck; the air was cold and +bracing. + +"I am sorry you are so opposed to sisters," she said, smiling. "If I +were a sister I would ask you to share your trouble with me." + +"What trouble?" + +"The trouble that is changing the careless traveler to a cynic--is +killing his better self." + +He ceased to speak in metaphor. "There is a trouble," he said, after +reflection; "but one beyond your power to remedy or lighten. Some day I +will tell it to you--but not now." + +"You do not trust me." + +"I do not trust myself." She was silent, looking away. She said no more. +Pale and trembling with suppressed emotion, he stood up. A look of +determination came into his eyes, and he faced her. At that moment a +faint, far cry was heard and every one in sight looked forward. + +"What is it?" asked a passenger, as the captain passed. + +"The cliffs of England," he said. Edward turned and walked away, leaving +her leaning upon the rail. He came back smoking. His mood had passed. + +The excitement had begun at once. On glided the good ship. Taller grew +the hills, shipping began to appear, and land objects to take shape. And +then the deep heart throbbing ceased and the glad voyagers poured forth +upon the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +THE DEATH OF GASPARD LEVIGNE. + + +Paris! + +With emotions difficult to appreciate Edward found himself at home, for +of all places Paris meant that to him. He went at once to his old +quarters; a suite of rooms in a quiet but accessible street, where was +combined something of both city and suburban life. The concierge almost +overwhelmed him with his welcome. + +In obedience to his letters, everything had been placed in order, books +and furniture dusted, the linen renewed, the curtains laundered and +stiffened anew, and on the little center table was a vase of crimson +roses--a contribution for madame and mademoiselle. + +His own, the larger room, was surrendered to the ladies; the smaller he +retained. There was the little parlor between, for common use. Outside +was the shady vista of the street and in the distance the murmur of the +city. + +Mrs. Montjoy was delighted with the arrangement and the scene. Mary +absorbed all the surroundings of the owner's past life; every picture, +every book and bit of bric-a-brac, all were parts of him and full of +interest. The very room seemed imbued with his presence. Here was his +shaded student's lamp, there the small upright piano, with its stack of +music and, in place ready for the player, an open sheet. It might have +been yesterday that he arose from its stool, walked out and closed the +door. + +It was a little home, and when coming into the parlor from his dressing +room, Edward saw her slender figure, he paused, and then the old +depression returned. + +She found him watching her, and noted the troubled look upon his face. + +"It is all so cozy and beautiful," she said. "I am so glad that you +brought us here rather than to a hotel." + +"And I, too, if you are pleased." + +"Pleased! It is simply perfect!" + +A note lay upon the center table. He noticed that it was addressed to +him, and, excusing himself, opened it and read: + + "M. Morgan. Benoni, the maestro, is ill and desires monsieur. + It will be well if monsieur comes quickly. + + "Annette." + +He rang the bell hurriedly and the concierge appeared. + +"This note," said Edward, speaking rapidly in French; "has it been long +here?" + +"Since yesterday. I sent it back, and they returned it. Monsieur is not +disappointed, I trust." Edward shook his head and was seeking his hat +and gloves. + +"You recall my old friend, the maestro, who gave me the violin," he +said, remembering Mary. "The note says he is very ill. It was sent +yesterday. Make my excuses to your mother; I will not stay long. If I do +not see you here, I will seek you over yonder in the park, where the +band may be playing shortly; and then we will find a supper." + +Walking rapidly to a cab stand he selected one with a promising horse, +and gave directions. He was carried at a rapid rate into the region of +the Quartier Latin and in a few moments found the maestro's home. + +One or two persons were by him when he entered the room, and they turned +and looked curiously. "Edward!" exclaimed the old man, lifting his +sightless eyes toward the door; "there is but one who steps like that!" + +Edward approached and took his hand. The sick man was sitting in his +arm-chair, wrapped in his faded dressing-gown. "My friends," he +continued, lifting his hand with a slight gesture of dismissal, "you +have been kind to Benoni; God will reward you; farewell!" + +The friends, one a woman of the neighborhood, the other the wife of the +concierge, came and touched his hand, and, bowing to Edward, withdrew, +lifting their white aprons to their faces as they passed from the room. + +"You are very ill," said Edward, placing his hand upon the old man's +arm; "I have just returned to Paris and came at once." + +"Very ill, indeed." He leaned back his head wearily. "It will soon be +over." + +"Have you no friends who should know of this, good Benoni; no relatives? +You have been silent upon this subject, and I have never questioned you. +I will bring them if you will let me." Benoni shook his head. + +"Never. I am to them already dead." A fit of coughing seized him, and he +became greatly exhausted. Upon the table was a small bottle containing +wine, left by one of the women. Edward poured out a draught and placed +it to the bloodless lips. + +"One is my wife," said the dying man, with sudden energy, "my own wife." + +"I will answer that she comes; she cannot refuse." + +"Refuse? No, indeed! She has been searching for me for a lifetime. Many +times she has looked upon me without recognition. She would come; she +has been here--she has been here!" + +"And did not know you? It is possible?" + +"She did not know." + +"You told her, though?" + +"No." + +"You never told her--" There was a pause. The sick man said, gasping: + +"I am a convict!" A cry of horror broke from the lips of the young man. +The old violinist resented his sudden start and exclamation. "But a +convict innocent. I swear it before my Maker!" Edward was deeply +touched. + +"None can doubt that who knows you, Benoni." + +"He threatened my life; he struck at me with his knife; I turned it on +him, and he fell dead. I did what I could; I was stanching the wound +when they seized me. His ring jewel had cut my face; but for that I +would have been executed. I had no friends, even my name was not my own. +I went to prison and labor for twenty years." + +He named the length of his sentence in a whisper. It was a horror he +could never understand. He stretched out his hand. "Wine." Again Edward +restored something of the fleeting strength. + +"She came," he said, "searching for me. I was blind then; they had been +careless with their blasting--my eyes were gone, my hair white, my face +scarred. She did not know me. Her voice was divine! Her name has been in +the mouths of all men. She came and sang at Christmas, to the prisoners, +the glorious hymns of her church, and she sang to me. It was a song that +none there knew but me--my song! Had she watched my face, then, she +would have known; but how could she suspect me, the blind, the scarred, +the gray? She passed out forever. And I, harmless, helpless, soon +followed--pardoned. I knew her name; I made my way to Paris to be near +that voice; and the years passed; I was poor and blind. It cost money to +hear her." + +Trembling with emotion, Edward whispered: "Her name?" Benoni shook his +head and slowly extended his withered arms. The woolen wristlets had +been removed, there were the white scars, the marks of the convict's +long-worn irons. + +"I have forgiven her; I will not bring her disgrace." + +"Cambia?" said Edward, unconsciously. There was a loud cry; the old man +half-rose and sank back, baffled by his weakness. + +"Hush! Hush!" he gasped; "it is my secret; swear to me you will keep it; +swear to me, swear!" + +"I swear it, Benoni, I swear it." The old man seemed to have fallen +asleep; it was a stupor. + +"She came," he said, "years ago and offered me gold. It was to be the +last effort of her life. She could not believe but that her husband was +in Paris and might be found. She believed the song would find him. I had +been suggested to her because my music and figure were known to all the +boulevards. I was blind and could never know her. But I knew her voice. + +"She went, veiled to avoid recognition; she stood by me at a certain +place on the boulevard where people gather in the evening and sang. What +a song. The streets were blocked, and men, I am told, uncovered before +the sacred purity of that voice, and when all were there who could hear +she sang our song; while I, weeping, played the accompaniment, ay, as no +man living or dead could have played it. Always in the lines-- + + "Oceans may roll between + Thy home and thee." + +--her voice gave way. They called it art. + +"Well, I thought, one day I will tell; it was always the next day, but I +knew, as she sang, in her mind must have arisen the picture of that +husband standing by her side--ah, my God, I could not, I could not; +blind, scarred, a felon, I could not; I was dead! It was bitter! + +"And then she came to me and said: 'Good Benoni, your heart is true and +tender; I thank you; I have wealth and plenty; here is gold, take it in +memory of a broken heart you have soothed.' I said: + +"'The voice of that woman, her song, are better than gold. I have them.' +I went and stood in the door as she, weeping, passed out. She lifted her +veil and touched the forehead of the old musician with her lips, and +then--I hardly knew! I was lying on the floor when Annette came to bring +my tea." + +For a long time he sat without motion after this recital. Edward +loosened the faded cords of his gown. The old man spoke again in a +whisper: + +"Come closer; there is another secret. I knew then that I had never +before loved her. My marriage had been an outrage of heart-faith. I +mistook admiration, sympathy, memory, for love. I was swept from my feet +by her devotion, but it is true--as God is my judge, I never loved her +until then--until her sad, ruined life spoke to me in that song on the +streets of Paris." Edward still held his hand. + +"Benoni," he said, simply, "there is no guilt upon your soul to have +deserved the convict's irons. Believe me, it is better to send for her +and let her come to you. Think of the long years she has searched; of +the long years of uncertainty that must follow. You cannot, you cannot +pass away without paying the debt; it was your fault in the +beginning----" + +The old man had gradually lifted his head; now he bowed it. "Then you +owe her the admission. Oh, believe me, you are wrong if you think the +scars of misfortune can shame away love. You do not know a true woman's +heart. You have not much time, I fear; let me send for her." There was +no reply. He knelt and took one withered hand in his. "Benoni, I plead +for you as for her. There will come a last moment--you will relent; and +then it will be too late." + +"Send!" It was a whisper. The lips moved again; it was an address. Upon +a card Edward wrote hurriedly: + + "The blind musician who once played for you is dying. He has + the secret of your life. If you would see your husband alive + lose no minute. + + "A Friend." + +He dashed from the room and ran rapidly to a cab stand. + +"Take this," he said, "bring an answer in thirty minutes, and get 100 +francs. If the police interfere, say a dying man waits for his friend." + +The driver lashed his horses, and was lashing them as he faded into the +distance. + +Edward returned; he called for hot water and bathed the dying man's +feet; he rubbed his limbs and poured brandy down his throat. He laid his +watch upon the little table; five, ten, fifteen, twenty, five--would she +never come? + +Death had already entered; he was hovering over the doomed man. + +The door opened; a tall woman of sad but noble countenance stepped in, +thrusting back her veil. Edward was kneeling by Benoni's side. Cambia's +eyes were fastened upon the face of the dying man. + +Edward passed out, leaving them alone. A name escaped her. + +"Gaspard." + +Slowly, leaning upon the arm of his chair, the old man arose and +listened. + +"It was a voice from the past," he said, clearly. "Who calls Gaspard +Levigne?" + +"Oh, God in heaven!" she moaned, dropping to her knees. "Is it true? +What do you know of Gaspard Levigne?" + +"Nothing that is good; but I am he, Marie!" The woman rushed to his +side; she touched his face and smoothed the disordered hair. She held +his hand after he had sunk into his chair. + +"Tell me, in God's name," she said. "Tell me where are the proofs of our +marriage? Oh, Gaspard, for my sake, for the sake of your posterity! You +are dying; do not deny me!" + +"Ah," he said, in a whisper. "I did not know--there--was--another--I did +not know. The woman--she wrote that it died!" He rose again to his feet, +animated by a thought that gave him new strength. Turning his face +toward her in horror, he said: + +"It is for you that you search, then--not for me!" + +"Speak, Gaspard, my husband, for my sake, for the sake of your Marie, +who loved and loves you, speak!" His lips moved. She placed her ear to +them: + +"Dear heaven," she cried in despair. "I cannot hear him! I cannot hear +him! Gaspard! Gaspard! Gaspard! Ah----" The appeal ended in a shriek. +She was staring into his glazing eyes. Then over the man's face came a +change. Peace settled there. The eyes closed and he whispered: "Freda!" + +Hearing her frantic grief, Edward rushed in and now stood looking down +in deep distress upon the scene. + +"He is dead, madame," he said, simply. "Let me see you to your home." +She arose, white and calm, by a mighty effort. + +"What was he to you? Who are you?" she asked. + +"He was my friend and master." He laid his hands lovingly on the eyes, +closing them. "I am Edward Morgan!" Her eyes never left him. There was +no motion of her tall figure; only her hand upon the veil closed tightly +and her features twitched. They stood in silence but a moment; it was +broken by Cambia. She had regained something of the bearing of the +dramatic soprano. With a simple dignity she said: + +"Sir, you have witnessed a painful scene. On the honor of a gentleman +give me your pledge to secrecy. There are tragedies in all lives; chance +has laid bare to you the youth of Cambia." He pointed downward to where +the still form lay between them. + +"Above the body of your husband--my friend--I swear to you that your +secret is safe." + +"I thank you." + +She looked a moment upon the form of the sleeper, and then her eyes +searched the face of the young man. "Will you leave me alone with him a +few moments?" He bowed and again withdrew into the little hall. + +When he was gone she knelt above the figure a long time in prayer, and +then, looking for the last time upon the dead face, sadly withdrew. The +young man took her to the carriage. A policeman was guarding it. + +"The driver broke the regulation by my orders," Edward said; "he was +bringing this lady to the bedside of a dying friend. Here is enough to +pay his fine." He gave a few napoleons to the cabman and his card on +which he placed his address. + +"Adieu, madame. I will arrange everything, and if you will attend the +funeral I will notify you." + +"I will attend," said Cambia; "I thank you. Adieu." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +THE HEART OF CAMBIA. + + +It was a simple burial. Edward sent a carriage for Cambia, one for the +concierge and his wife, and in the other he brought Mrs. Montjoy and +Mary, to whom he had related a part of the history of Benoni, as he +still called him. Out in Pere la Chaise they laid away the body of the +old master, placed on it their flowers and the beautiful wreath that +Cambia brought, and were ready to return. + +As they approached their carriage, Edward introduced the ladies, to whom +he had already told of Cambia's career. + +They looked with sympathetic pleasure upon the great singer and were +touched by her interest in and devotion to the old musician, "whom she +had known in happier days." + +Cambia studied their faces long and thoughtfully and promised to call +upon them. They parted to meet again. + +When Edward went to make an engagement for Mrs. Montjoy with Moreau, the +great authority on the eye, he was informed that the specialist had been +called to Russia for professional services in the family of the Czar, +and would not return before a date then a week off. The ladies accepted +the delay philosophically. It would give them time to see something of +Paris. + +And see it they did. To Edward it was familiar in every feature. He took +them to all the art centers, the historical points, the great cathedral, +the environments of Malmaison and Versailles, to the promenades, the +palaces and the theaters. This last feature was the delight of both. For +the dramatic art in all its perfection both betrayed a keen relish, and +just then Paris was at its gayest. They were never jostled, harassed, +nor disappointed. They were in the hands of an accomplished +cosmopolitan. + +To Mary the scenes were full of never-ending delight. The mother had +breathed the same atmosphere before, but to Mary all was novel and +beautiful. + +Throughout all Edward maintained the sad, quiet dignity peculiar to him, +illumined at times by flashes of life, as he saw and gloried in the +happiness of the girl at his side. + +Then came Cambia! Mary had gone out with Edward, for a walk, and Mrs. +Montjoy was knitting in the parlor in silent reverie when a card was +brought in, and almost immediately the sad, beautiful face of the singer +appeared in the door. + +"Do not arise, madame," she said, quickly, coming forward upon seeing +the elderly lady beginning to put aside her knitting, "nor cease your +work. I ask that you let me forget we are almost strangers and will sit +here by your side. You have not seen Moreau yet?" + +"No," said Mrs. Montjoy, releasing the white hand that had clasped hers; +"he is to return to-day." + +"Then he will soon relieve your anxiety. With Moreau everything is +possible." + +"I am sure I hope your trust is not misplaced; success will lift a great +weight from my family." Cambia was silent, thinking; then she arose and, +sinking upon the little footstool, laid her arms upon the knees of her +hostess, and with tearful eyes raised to her face she said: + +"Mrs. Montjoy, do you not know me? Have I indeed changed so much?" + +The needles ceased to contend and the work slipped from the smooth +little hands. A frightened look overspread the gentle face. + +"Who is it speaks? Sometime I must have known that voice." + +"It is Marion Evan." The visitor bent her head upon her own arms and +gave way to her emotion. Mrs. Montjoy had repeated the name +unconsciously and was silent. But presently, feeling the figure bent +before her struggling in the grasp of its emotion, she placed both hands +upon the shapely head and gently stroked its beautiful hair, now lined +with silver. + +"You have suffered," she said simply. "Why did you leave us? Why have +you been silent all these years?" + +"For my father's sake. They have thought me cold, heartless, abandoned. +I have crucified my heart to save his." She spoke with vehement passion. + +"Hush, my child," said the elder lady; "you must calm yourself. Tell me +all; let me help you. You used to tell me all your troubles and I used +to call you daughter in the old times. Do you remember?" + +"Ah, madame, if I did not I would not be here now. Indeed you were +always kind and good to Marion." + +And so, living over the old days, they came to learn again each other's +heart and find how little time and the incidents of life had changed +them. And sitting there beneath the sympathetic touch and eyes of her +lifetime friend, Cambia told her story. + +"I was not quite 17, madame, you remember, when it happened. How, I do +not know; but I thought then I must have been born for Gaspard Levigne. +From the moment I saw him, the violin instructor in our institution, I +loved him. His voice, his music, his presence, without effort of his, +deprived me of any resisting power; I did not seek to resist. I advanced +in my art until its perfection charmed him. I had often seen him +watching me with a sad and pensive air and he once told me that my face +recalled a very dear friend, long dead. I sang a solo in a concert; he +led the orchestra; I sang to him. The audience thought it was the +debutante watching her director, but it was a girl of 17 singing to the +only man the world held for her. He heard and knew. + +"From that day we loved; before, only I loved. He was more than double +my age, a handsome man, with a divine art; and I--well, they called me +pretty--made him love me. We met at every opportunity, and when +opportunities did not offer we made them, those innocent, happy trysts. + +"Love is blind not only to faults but to all the world. We were +discovered and he was blamed. The great name of the institution might be +compromised--its business suffer. He resigned. + +"Then came the terrible misstep; he asked me to go with him and I +consented. We should have gone home; he was afraid of the legal effects +of marrying a minor, and so we went the other way. Not stopping in New +York we turned northward, away from the revengeful south; from police +surveillance, and somewhere we were married. I heard them call us man +and wife, and then I sank again into my dream. + +"It does not seem possible that I could not have known the name of the +place, but I was no more than a child looking from a car window and +taken out for meals here and there. I had but one thought--my husband. + +"We went to Canada, then abroad. Gaspard had saved considerable money; +his home was in Silesia and thither we went; and that long journey was +the happiest honeymoon a woman could know." + +"I spent mine in Europe wandering from point to point. I understand," +said Mrs. Montjoy, gently. + +"Oh, you do understand! We reached the home and then my troubles began. +My husband, the restraints of his professional engagement thrown off, +fell a victim to dissipation again. He had left his country to break up +old associations and this habit. + +"His people were high-class but poor. He was Count Levigne. Their pride +was boundless. They disliked me from the beginning. I had frustrated the +plans of the family, whose redemption was to come from Gaspard. Innocent +though I was, and soon demanding the tenderness, the love, the +gentleness which almost every woman receives under like circumstances, I +received only coldness and petty persecution. + +"Soon came want; not the want of mere food, but of clothing and minor +comforts. And Gaspard had changed--he who should have defended me left +me to defend myself. One night came the end. He reproached me--he was +intoxicated--with having ruined his life and his prospects." The speaker +paused. With this scene had come an emotion she could with difficulty +control; but, calm at last, she continued with dignity: + +"The daughter of Gen. Albert Evan could not stand that. I sold my +diamonds, my mother's diamonds, and came away. I had resolved to come +back and work for a living in my own land until peace could be made with +father. At that time I did not know the trouble. I found out, though. + +"Gaspard came to his senses then and followed me. Madame, can you +imagine the sorrow of the coming back? But a few months before I had +gone over the same route the happiest woman in all the to me beautiful +world, and now I was the most miserable; life had lost its beauty! + +"We met again--he had taken a shorter way, and, guessing my limited +knowledge correctly, by watching the shipping register found me. But all +eloquence could not avail then; there had been a revulsion. I no longer +loved him. He would never reform; he would work by fits and starts and +he could not support me. At that time he had but one piece of property +in the world--a magnificent Stradivarius violin. The sale of that would +have brought many thousand francs to spend, but on that one thing he was +unchanging. It had come to him by many generations of musicians. They +transmitted to him their divine art and the vehicle of its expression. A +suggestion of sale threw him into the most violent of passions, so great +was the shock to his artistic nature and family pride. If he had starved +to death that violin would have been found by his side. + +"I believe it was this heroism in his character that touched me at last; +I relented. We went to Paris and Gaspard secured employment. But, alas, +I had not been mistaken. I was soon penniless and practically abandoned. +I had no longer the ability to do what I should have done at first; I +could not go home for want of means." + +"You should have written to us." + +"I would have starved before I would have asked. Had you known, had you +offered, I would have received it. And God sent me a friend, one of His +noblemen--the last in all the world of whom I could ask anything. When +my fortunes were at their lowest ebb John Morgan came back into my +life." + +"John Morgan!" + +"He asked no questions. He simply did all that was necessary. And then +he went to see my father. I had written him, but he had never replied; +he went, as I learned afterward, simply as a man of business and without +sentiment. You can imagine the scene. No other man witnessed it. It was, +he told me, long and stormy. + +"The result was that I would be received at home when I came with proofs +of my marriage. + +"I was greatly relieved at first; I had only to find my husband and get +them. I found him but I did not get them. It happened to be a bad time +to approach him. Then John Morgan tried, and that was unfortunate. In my +despair I had told my husband of that prior engagement. An insane +jealousy now seized him. He thought it was a plot to recover my name and +marry me to Mr. Morgan. He held the key to the situation and swore that +in action for divorce he would testify there had been no marriage! + +"Then we went forward to find the record. We never found it. If years of +search and great expense could have accomplished it, we would have +succeeded. It was, however, a fact; I remember standing before the +officiating officer and recalled my trembling responses, but that was +all. The locality, the section, whether it was the first or second day, +I do not recall. But, as God is my judge, I was married." + +She became passionate. Her companion soothed her again. + +"Go on, my child. I believe you." + +"I cannot tell you a part of this sad story; I have not been perfectly +open. Some day I will, perhaps, and until that time comes I ask you to +keep my secret, because there are good reasons now for silence; you will +appreciate them when you know. Gaspard was left--our only chance. Mr. +Morgan sought him, I sought him; he would have given him any sum for his +knowledge. Gaspard would have sold it, we thought; want would have made +him sell, but Gaspard had vanished as if death itself had carried him +off. + +"In this search I had always the assistance of Mr. Morgan, and at first +his money defrayed all expense; but shortly afterward he influenced a +leading opera master to give me a chance, and I sang in Paris as Cambia, +for the first time. From that day I was rich, and Marion Evan +disappeared from the world. + +"Informed weekly of home affairs and my dear father, my separation was +lessened of half its terrors. But year after year that unchanging friend +stood by me. The time came when the stern face was the grandest object +on which my eyes could rest. There was no compact between us; if I could +have dissolved the marriage tie I would have accepted him and been +happy. But Cambia could take no chances with herself nor with Gen. Evan! +Divorce could only have been secured by three months' publication of +notice in the papers and if that reached Gaspard his terrible answer +would have been filed and I would have been disgraced. + +"The American war had passed and then came the French war. And still no +news from Gaspard. And one day came John Morgan, with the proposition +that ten years of abandonment gave me liberty, and offered me his +hand--and fortune. But--there were reasons--there were reasons. I could +not. He received my answer and said simply: 'You are right!' After that +we talked no more upon the subject. + +"Clew after clew was exhausted; some led us into a foreign prison. I +sang at Christmas to the convicts. All seemed touched; but none was +overwhelmed; Gaspard was not among them. + +"I sang upon the streets of Paris, disguised; all Paris came to know and +hear the 'veiled singer,' whose voice, it was said, equaled the famous +Cambia's. A blind violinist accompanied me. We managed it skillfully. He +met me at a new place every evening, and we parted at a new place, I +alighting from the cab we always took, at some unfrequented place, and +sending him home. And now, madame, do you still believe in God?" + +"Implicitly." + +"Then tell me why, when, a few days since, I was called by your friend +Mr. Morgan to the bedside of Gaspard Levigne, the old musician, who had +accompanied me on the streets of Paris, why was it that God in His mercy +did not give him breath to enable his lips to answer my pitiful +question; why, if there is a God in heaven, did He not----" + +"Hush, Marion!" The calm, sweet voice of the elder woman rose above the +excitement and anguish of the singer. "Hush, my child; you have trusted +too little in Him! God is great, and good and merciful. I can say it +now; I will say it when His shadows fall upon my eyes as they must some +day." + +Awed and touched, Cambia looked up into the glorified face and was +silent. + +Neither broke that stillness, but as they waited a violent step was +heard without, and a voice: + +"Infamous! Infamous!" Edward rushed into the room, pale and horrified, +his bursting heart finding relief only in such words. + +"What is it, my son--Edward!" Mrs. Montjoy looked upon him +reproachfully. + +"I am accused of the murder of Rita Morgan!" he cried. He did not see +Cambia, who had drawn back from between the two, and was looking in +horror at him as she slowly moved toward the door. + +"You accused, Edward? Impossible! Why, what possible motive----" + +"Oh, it is devilish!" he exclaimed, as he tore the American paper into +shreds. "Devilish! First I was called her son, and now her murderer. I +murdered her to destroy her evidence, is the charge!" The white face of +Cambia disappeared through the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +THE MAN WITH THE TORCH. + + +The startling news had been discussed in all its phases in the little +parlor, Mary taking no part. She sat with averted face listening, but +ever and anon when Edward's indignation became unrestrainable she turned +and looked at him. She did not know that the paper contained a reference +to her. + +The astounding revelation, aside from the accusation, was the wound. +Strange that he had not discovered it. Who could have murdered poor +Rita? Positively the only person on the immediate premises were Virdow, +Evan and Gerald. Virdow was of course out of the question, and the +others were in the room. It was the blow that had driven her head +through the glass. What enemy could the woman have had? + +So far as he was concerned, the charge could amount to nothing; Evan was +in the room with him; the general would surely remember that. + +But the horror, the mortification--he, Edward Morgan, charged with +murder, and the center of a scandal in which the name of Mary Montjoy +was mentioned. + +The passion left him; depressed and sick from reaction he sat alone in +the little parlor, long after the ladies had retired; and then came the +climax. A cablegram reached the house and was handed in to him. It was +signed by Evan and read: + +"You have been indicted. Return." + +"Indicted," and for murder, of course. It gave him no uneasiness, but it +thrust all light and sweetness from life. The dream was over. There +could now be no search for Marion Evan. That must pass, and with it +hope. + +He had builded upon that idea castles whose minarets wore the colors of +sunrise. They had fallen and his life lay among the ruins. + +He threw himself upon the bed to sleep, but the gray of dawn was already +over the city; there came a rumbling vehicle in the street; he heard the +sound of a softly closing door--and then he arose and went out. The +early morning air and exercise brought back his physical equipoise. He +returned for breakfast, with a good appetite, and though grave, was +tranquil again. + +Neither of the ladies brought up the painful subject; they went with him +to see the learned oculist and came back silent and oppressed. There was +no hope. + +The diagnosis corresponded with Dr. Campbell's; the blind eye might have +been saved years ago, but an operation would not have been judicious +under the circumstances. Continued sight must depend upon general +health. + +All their pleasures and hopes buried in one brief day, they turned their +backs on Paris and started homeward. + +Edward saw Cambia no more; Mrs. Montjoy called alone and said farewell. +The next day they sailed from Havre. + +In New York Norton met them, grave and embarrassed for once in his life, +and assisted in their hurried departure for the far southern home. There +was no exchange of views between the two men. The paper Norton had sent +was acknowledged; that was all. The subject was too painful for +discussion. And so they arrived in Georgia. They mere met by the Montjoy +carriage at a little station near the city. It was the 11:20 p. m. +train. Gen. Evan was waiting for Edward. + +The handshaking over, they rapidly left the station. Evan had secured +from the sheriff a temporary exemption from arrest for Edward, but it +was understood that he was to remain out of sight. + +They arrived within a couple of miles of the Cedars, having only +broached commonplace subjects, traveling incidents and the like, when a +negro stopped them. In the distance they heard a hound trailing. + +"Boss, kin air one er you gentlemen gi' me a match? I los' my light back +yonder, and hit's too putty er night ter go back without a possum." Evan +drew rein. He was a born sportsman and sympathetic. + +"I reckon so," he said; "and--well, I can't," he concluded, having tried +all pockets. "Mr. Morgan, have you a match?" Edward had one and one +only. He drew all the little articles of his pockets into his hand to +find it. + +"Now, hold," said the general; "let's light our cigars. If it's to be +the last chance." The negro touched the blazing match to splinters of +lightwood, as the southern pitch pine is called when dry, and instantly +he stood in a circle of light, his features revealed in every detail. +Edward gazed into it curiously. Where had he seen that face? It came +back like the lines of some unpleasant dream--the thick lips, the flat +nose, the retreating forehead, full eyes and heavy eyelids, and over all +a look of infinite stupidity. The negro had fixed his eyes a moment upon +the articles in Edward's hand and stepped back quickly. But he recovered +himself and with clumsy thanks, holding up his flaming torch, went away, +leaving only the uncertain shadows dancing across the road. + +At home Gen. Evan threw aside all reserve. He drew their chairs up into +the sheltered corner of the porch. + +"I have some matters to talk over," he said, "and our time is short. +Yours is not a bailable case and we must have a speedy trial. The law +winks at your freedom to-night; it will not do to compromise our friends +in the court house by unnecessary delay. Edward, where was I when you +discovered the body of the woman, Rita Morgan?" Edward looked through +the darkness at his friend, who was gazing straight ahead. + +"You were standing by Gerald's bed, looking upon him." + +"How did you discover her? It never occurred to me to ask; were you not +in the room also?" + +"I certainly was. She broke the glass by pressing against it, as I +thought at the time, but now I see she was struck. I rushed out and +picked her up, and you came when I called." + +"Exactly. And you both talked loudly out there." + +"Why do you ask?" + +"Because," said Evan, slowly, "therein lies the defect in our defense. I +cannot swear you were in the room upon my own knowledge. I had been +astounded by the likeness of Gerald to those who had been dear to me--I +was absorbed. Then I heard you cry out, and found you in the yard." +There was a long pause. Edward's heart began to beat with sledge-hammer +violence. + +"Then," he said with a strange voice, "as the case would be presented, I +was found with the body of the woman; she had been murdered and I was +the only one who had a motive. Is that it?" + +"That is it." The young man arose and walked the porch in silence. + +"But that is not all," said Gen. Evan. "If it were, I would have cabled +you to go east from Paris. There is more. Is there any one on earth who +could be interested in your disgrace or death?" + +"None that I know of--that is, well, no; none that I know of. You +remember Royson; we fought that out. He cannot cherish enmity against a +man who fought him in an open field." + +"Perhaps you are mistaken." + +"From what do you speak?" + +"You had been in Paris but a few days when one night as I sat here your +friend Barksdale--great man that Barksdale; a trifle heady and +confident, but true as steel--Barksdale came flying on his sorrel up the +avenue and landed here. + +"'General,' said he, 'I have discovered the most damnable plot that a +man ever faced. All this scandal about Morgan is not newspaper sensation +as you suppose, it is the first step in a great tragedy.' And then he +went on to tell me that Gerald had invaded his room and shown him +pictures of an open grave, the face of a dead woman and also the face of +the man who opened that grave, drawn with every detail perfect. Gerald +declared that he witnessed the disinterment and drew the scene from +memory----" + +"Hold a minute," said Edward; he was now on his feet, his hand uplifted +to begin a statement; "and then--and then----" + +"The object of that disinterment was to inflict the false wound and +charge you with murder." + +"And the man who did it--who made that wound--was the man who begged a +match from us on the road. I will swear it, if art is true. I have seen +the picture." Evan paused a moment to take in the vital fact. Then there +rung out from him a half-shout: + +"Thank God! Thank God!" The chairs that stood between him and the door +were simply hurled out of the way. His stentorian voice called for his +factotum. "John!" and John did not wait to dress, but came. + +"Get my horse and a mule saddled and bring that puppy Carlo. Quick, +John, quick!" John fled toward the stable. "Edward, we win if we get +that negro--we win!" he exclaimed, coming back through the wreck of his +furniture. + +"But why should the negro have disinterred the body and have made a +wound upon her head? There can be no motive." + +"Heavens, man, no motive! Do you know that you have come between two men +and Mary Morgan?" + +"I have never suspected it, even." + +"Two have sought her with all the energy of manhood," said Evan. "Two +men as different as the east from the west. Royson hates you and will +leave no stone unturned to effect your ruin; Barksdale loves her and +will leave no stone unturned to protect her happiness! There you have it +all. Only one man in the world could have put that black devil up to his +infamous deed--and that man is Royson. Only one man in the world could +have grasped the situation and have read the riddle correctly--and that +man is Barksdale." Edward was dazed. Gradually the depth and villainy of +the conspiracy grew clear. + +"But to prove it----" + +"The negro." + +"Will he testify?" + +"Will he? If I get my hands on him, young man, he will testify! Or he +will hang by the neck from a limb as his possum hangs by the tail." + +"You propose to capture him?" + +"I am going to capture him." He disappeared in the house and when he +came out he had on his army belt, with sword and pistol. The mounts were +at the door and for the first time in his life Edward was astride a +mule. To his surprise the animal bounded along after the gray horse, +with a smooth and even gait, and kept up without difficulty. + +Evan rode as a cavalryman and carried across his saddle the puppy. With +unerring skill he halted at the exact spot where the match had been +struck, and lowered the dog gently to the ground. The intelligent, +excited animal at once took up the trail of man or dogs, and opening +loudly glided into the darkness. They followed. + +Several miles had been covered, when they saw in the distance a glimmer +of light among the trees and Evan drew rein. + +"It will not do," he said, "to ride upon him. At the sound of horses' +feet he will extinguish his light and escape. The dog, he will suppose, +is a stray one led off by his own and will not alarm him." They tied +their animals and pressed on. + +The dog ahead had openel and Carlo's voice could be heard with the rest, +as they trailed the fleeing possum. The general was exhausted. "I can't +do it, Edward, my boy--go on. I will follow as fast as possible." +Without a word Edward obeyed. The dogs were now furious, the man himself +running. In the din and clamor he could hear nothing of pursuit. The +first intimation he had of danger was a grip on his collar and a man's +voice exclaiming excitedly: + +"Halt! You are my prisoner!" + +The torch fell to the ground and lay sputtering. The negro was terrified +for the moment, but his quick eye pierced the gloom and measured his +antagonist. He made a fierce effort to break away, and failing, threw +himself with immense force upon Edward. Then began a frightful struggle. +No word was spoken. The negro was powerful, but the white man was +inspired by a memory and consciousness of his wrongs. They fell and +writhed, and rose and fell again. Slippery Dick had got his hand upon +Edward's throat. Suddenly his grasp relaxed and he lay with the white of +his eyes rolled upward. The muzzle of a cavalry pistol was against his +head and the stern face of the veteran was above him. + +"Get up!" said the general, briefly. + +"Certainly, boss," was the reply, and breathless the two men arose. + +The defense had its witness! + +"Ef he had'n conjured me," said the negro doggedly, "he couldn't 'er +done it." He had recognized among the little things that Edward drew +from his pocket on the road the voodoo's charm. + +Edward breathless, took up the torch and looked into Dick's countenance. +"I am not mistaken, general, this is the man." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +WHAT THE SHEET HID. + + +Slippery Dick was puzzled as well as frightened. He knew Gen. Evan by +sight, and his terror lost some of its wildness; the general was not +likely to be out upon a lynching expedition. But for what was he wanted? +He could not protest until he knew that, and in his past were many dark +deeds, for which somebody was wanted. So he was silent. + +His attention was chiefly directed to Edward; he could not account for +him, nor could he remember to have seen him. Royson had long since +trained him to silence; most men convict themselves while under arrest. + +Evan stood in deep thought, but presently he prepared for action. + +"What is your name, boy?" The negro answered promptly: + +"Dick, sah." + +"Dick who?" + +"Just Dick, sah." + +"Your other name?" + +"Slippery Dick." The general was interested instantly. + +"Oh, Slippery Dick." The career of the notorious negro was partially +known to him. Dick had been the reporter's friend for many years and in +dull times more than the truth had been told of Slippery Dick. "Well, +this begins to look probable, Edward; I begin to think you may be +right." + +"I am not mistaken, general. If there is a mistake, it is not mine." + +"What dey want me for, Marse Evan? I ain't done nothin'." + +"A house has been broken into, Dick, and you are the man who did it." + +"Who, me? Fo' Gawd, Marse Evan, I ain't broke inter no man's house. It +warn't me--no sah, no sah." + +"We will see about that. Now I will give you your choice, Dick; you can +go with me, Gen. Evan and I will protect you. If the person who accuses +you says you are innocent I will turn you loose; if you are not willing +to go there I will take you to jail; but, willing or unwilling, if you +make a motion to escape, I will put a bullet through you before you can +take three steps." + +"I'll go with you, Marse Evan; I ain't de man. I'll go whar you want me +to go." + +"Get your dogs together and take the road to town. I will show you when +we get there." They went with him to where his dogs, great and small, +were loudly baying at the root of a small persimmon tree. Dick looked up +wistfully. + +"Marse Evan, deir he sots; you don't spect me ter leave dat possum up +dere?" The old man laughed silently. + +"The ruling passion strong in death," he quoted to Edward, and then +sternly to Dick: "Get him and be quick about it." A moment more and they +were on the way to the horses. + +"I had an object," said Evan, "in permitting this. As we pass through +the city we present the appearance of a hunting party. Turn up your coat +collar and turn down your hat to avoid the possibility of recognition." + +They reached the city, passed through the deserted streets, the negro +carrying his 'possum and surrounded by the dogs preceding the riders, +and, without attracting more than the careless notice of a policeman or +two, they reached the limits beyond. + +Still Dick was not suspicious; the road was his own way home; but when +finally he was ordered to turn up the long route to Ilexhurst, he +stopped. This was anticipated; the general spurted his horse almost +against him. + +"Go on!" he said, sternly, "or by the Eternal you are a dead man! +Edward, if he makes a break, you have the ex----" + +"Marse Evan, you said breakin' in 'er house." Dick still hesitated. + +"I did; but it was the house of the dead." + +The 'possum came suddenly to the ground, and away went Dick into an open +field, the expectation of a bullet lending speed to his legs. But he was +not in the slightest danger from bullets; he was the last man, almost, +that either of his captors would have slain, nor was it necessary. The +great roan came thundering upon him; he lifted his arm to ward off the +expected blow and looked up terrified. The next instant a hand was on +his coat collar, and he was lifted off his feet. Dragging his prisoner +into the road, Evan held his pistol over his wet forehead, while, with +the rein, Edward lashed his elbows behind his back. The dogs were +fighting over the remains of the unfortunate 'possum. They left them +there. + +The three men arrived at Ilexhurst thoroughly tired; the white men more +so than the negro. Tying their animals, Edward led the way around to the +glass-room, where a light was burning, but to his disappointment on +entering he found no occupant. Slippery Dick was placed in a chair and +the door locked. Evan stood guard over him, while Edward searched the +house. The wing-room was dark and Gerald was not to be found. From the +door of the professor's room came the cadenced breathing of a profound +sleeper. Returning, Edward communicated these facts to his companion. +They discussed the situation. + +Evan, oppressed by the memory of his last two visits to these scenes, +was silent and distrait. The eyes of the negro were moving restlessly +from point to point, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The +scene, the hour, the situation and the memory of that shriveled face in +its coffin all combined to reduce Dick to a state of abject terror. Had +he not been tied he would have plunged through the glass into the night; +the pistol in the hands of the old man standing over him would have been +forgotten. + +What was to be done? Edward went into the wing-room and lighted the +lamps preparatory to making better arrangements for all parties. +Suddenly his eyes fell upon the lounge. Extended upon it was a form +outlined through a sheet that covered it from head to foot. So still, so +immovable and breathless it seemed, he drew back in horror. An +indefinable fear seized him. White, with unexpressed horror, he stood in +the door of the glass-room and beckoned to the general. The silence of +his appearance, the inexpressible terror that shone in his face and +manner, sent a thrill to the old man's heart and set the negro +trembling. + +Driving the negro before him, Evan entered. At sight of the covered form +Dick made a violent effort to break away, but, with nerves now at their +highest tension and muscles drawn responsive, the general successfully +resisted. Enraged at last he stilled his captive by a savage blow with +his weapon. + +Edward now approached the apparition and lifted the cloth. Prepared as +he was for the worst, he could not restrain the cry of horror that rose +to his lips. Before him was the face of Gerald, white with the hue of +death, the long lashes drooped over half-closed eyes, the black hair +drawn back from the white forehead and clustering about his neck and +shoulders. He fell almost fainting against the outstretched arm of his +friend, who, pale and shocked, stood with eyes riveted upon the fatal +beauty of the dead face. + +It was but an instant; then the general was jerked with irresistible +force and fell backward into the room, Edward going nearly prostrate +over him. There was the sound of shattered glass and the negro was gone. + +Stunned and hurt, the old man rose to his feet and rushed to the +glass-room. Then a pain seized him; he drew his bruised limb from the +floor and caught the lintel. + +"Stop that man! Stop that man!" he said in a stentorian voice; "he is +your only witness now!" Edward looked into his face a moment and +comprehended. For the third time that night he plunged into the darkness +after Slippery Dick. But where? Carlo was telling! Down the hill his +shrill voice was breaking the night. Abandoned by the negro's dogs +accustomed to seek their home and that not far away, he had followed the +master's footsteps with unerring instinct and whined about the glass +door. The bursting glass, the fleeing form of a strange negro, were +enough for his excitable nature; he gave voice and took the trail. + +The desperate effort of the negro might have succeeded, but the human +arms were made for many things; when a man stumbles he needs them in the +air and overhead or extended. Slippery Dick went down with a crash in a +mass of blackberry bushes, and when Edward reached him he was kicking +wildly at the excited puppy, prevented from rising by his efforts and +his bonds. The excited and enraged white man dragged him out of the +bushes by his collar and brought reason to her throne by savage kicks. +The prisoner gave up and begged for mercy. + +He was marched back, all breathless, to the general, who had limped to +the gate to meet him. + +Edward was now excited beyond control; he forced the prisoner, shivering +with horror, into the presence of the corpse, and with the axe in hand +confronted him. + +"You infamous villain!" he cried; "tell me here, in the presence of my +dead friend, who it was that put you up to opening the grave of Rita +Morgan and breaking her skull, or I will brain you! You have ten seconds +to speak!" He meant it, and the axe flashed in the air. Gen. Evan caught +the upraised arm. + +"Softly, softly, Edward; this won't do; this won't do! You defeat your +own purpose!" It was timely; the blow might have descended, for the +reckless man was in earnest, and the negro was by this time dumb. + +"Dick," said the general, "I promised to protect you on conditions, and +I will. But you have done this gentleman an injury and endangered his +life. You opened Rita Morgan's grave and broke her skull--an act for +which the law has no adequate punishment; but my young friend here is +desperate. You can save yourself but I cannot save you except over my +dead body. If you refuse I will stand aside, and when I do you are a +dead man." He was during this hurried speech still struggling with the +young man. + +"I'll tell, Marse Evan! Hold 'im. I'll tell!" + +"Who, then?" said Edward, white with his passion; "who was the infamous +villain that paid you for the deed?" + +"Mr. Royson, Mr. Royson, he hired me." The men looked at each other. A +revulsion came over Edward; a horror, a hatred of the human race, of +anything that bore the shape of man--but no; the kind, sad face of the +old gentleman was beaming in triumph upon him. + +And then from somewhere into the scene came the half-dressed form of +Virdow, his face careworn and weary, amazed and alarmed. + +Virdow wrote the confession in all its details, and the general +witnessed the rude cross made by the trembling hand of the negro. And +then they stood sorrowful and silent before the still, dead face of +Gerald Morgan! + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +ON THE MARGINS OF TWO WORLDS. + + +The discovery of Gerald's death necessitated a change of plans. The +concealment of Slippery Dick and Edward must necessarily be accomplished +at Ilexhurst. There were funeral arrangements to be made, the property +cared for and Virdow to be rescued from his solitary and embarrassing +position. Moreover, the gray dawn was on ere the confession was written, +and Virdow had briefly explained the circumstances of Gerald's death. +Exhausted by excitement and anxiety and the depression of grief, he went +to his room and brought Edward a sealed packet which had been written +and addressed to him during the early hours of the night. + +"You will find it all there," he said; "I cannot talk upon it." He went +a moment to look upon the face of his friend and then, with a single +pathetic gesture, turned and left them. + +One of the eccentricities of the former owner of Ilexhurst had been a +granite smoke-house, not only burglar and fireproof but cyclone proof, +and with its oaken door it constituted a formidable jail. + +With food and water, Dick, freed of his bonds, was ushered into this +building, the small vents in the high roof affording enough light for +most purposes. A messenger was then dispatched for Barksdale and Edward +locked himself away from sight of chance callers in his upper room. The +general, thoughtful and weary, sat by the dead man. + +The document that Virdow had prepared was written in German. "When your +eye reads these lines, you will be grieved beyond endurance; Gerald is +no more! He was killed to-night by a flash of lightning and his death +was instantaneous. I am alone, heartbroken and utterly wretched. +Innocent of any responsibility in this horrible tragedy I was yet the +cause, since it was while submitting to some experiments of mine that he +received his death stroke. I myself received a frightful electric shock, +but it now amounts to nothing. I would to God that I and not he had +received the full force of the discharge. He might have been of vast +service to science, but my work is little and now well-nigh finished. + +"Gerald was kneeling under a steel disk, in the glass-room, you will +remember where we began our sound experiments, and I did not know that +the steel wire which suspended it ran up and ended near a metal strip, +along the ridge beam of the room. We had just begun our investigation, +when the flash descended and he fell dead. + +"At this writing I am here under peculiar circumstances; the butler who +came to my call when I recovered consciousness assisted me in the +attempt at resuscitation of Gerald, but without any measure of success. +He then succeeded in getting one or two of the old negroes and a doctor. +The latter declared life extinct. There was no disfigurement--only a +black spot in the crown of the head and a dark line down the spine, +where the electric fluid had passed. That was all." + +Edward ceased to read; his chin sank upon his breast and the lines +slipped from his unfocused eyes. The dark line down the spine! His heart +leaped fiercely and he lifted his face with a new light in his eyes. For +a moment it was radiant; then shame bowed his head again. He laid aside +the paper and gave himself up to thought, from time to time pacing the +room. In these words lay emancipation. He resumed the reading: + +"We arranged the body on the lounge and determined to wait until morning +to send for the coroner and undertaker, but one by one your negroes +disappeared. They could not seem to withstand their superstition, the +butler told me, and as there was nothing to be done I did not worry. I +came here to the library to write, and when I returned, the butler, too, +was gone. They are a strange people. I suppose I will see none of them +until morning, but it does not matter; my poor friend is far beyond the +reach of attention. His rare mind has become a part of cosmos; its +relative situation is our mystery. + +"I will, now, before giving you a minute description of our last evening +together, commit for your eye my conclusions as to some of the phenomena +and facts you have observed. I am satisfied as far as Gerald's origin is +concerned, that he is either the son of the woman Rita or that they are +in some way connected by ties of blood. In either case the similarity of +their profiles would be accounted for. No matter how remote the +connection, nothing is so common as this reappearance of tribal features +in families. The woman, you told me, claimed him as her child, but +silently waived that claim for his sake. I say to you that a mother's +instinct is based upon something deeper than mere fancy, and that +intuitions are so nearly correct that I class them as the nearest +approach to mind memory to be observed. + +"The likeness of his full face to the picture of the girl you call +Marion Evan may be the result of influences exerted at birth. Do you +remember the fragmentary manuscript? If that is a history, I am of the +opinion that it is explanation enough. At any rate, the profile is a +stronger evidence the other way. + +"The reproduction of the storm scene is one of the most remarkable +incidents I have ever known, but it is not proof that he inherited it as +a memory. It is a picture forcibly projected upon his imagination by the +author of the fragment--and in my opinion he had read that fragment. It +came to him as a revelation, completing the gap. I am sure that from the +day that he read it he was for long periods convinced that he was the +son of Rita Morgan; that she had not lied to him. In this I am confirmed +by the fact that as she lay dead he bent above her face and called her +'mother'. I am just as well assured that he had no memory of the origin +of that picture; no memory, in fact, of having read the paper. This may +seem strange to you, but any one who has had the care of victims of +opium will accept the proposition as likely. + +"The drawing of the woman's face was simple. His hope had been to find +himself the son of Marion Evan; his dreams were full of her. He had seen +the little picture; his work was an idealized copy, but it must be +admitted a marvelous work. Still the powers of concentration in this man +exceeded the powers of any one I have ever met. + +"And that brings me to what was the most wonderful demonstration he gave +us. Edward, I have divined your secret, although you have never told it. +When you went to secure for me the note of the waterfall, the home note, +you were accompanied by your friend Mary. I will stake my reputation +upon it. It is true because it is obliged to be true. When you played +for us you had her in your mind, a vivid picture, and Gerald drew it. It +was a case of pure thought transference--a transference of a mental +conception, line for line. Gerald received his conception from you upon +the vibrating air. To me it was a demonstration worth my whole journey +to America. + +"And here let me add, as another proof of the sympathetic chord between +you, that Gerald himself had learned to love the same woman. You gave +him that, my young friend, with the picture. + +"You have by this time been made acquainted with the terrible accusation +against you--false and infamous. There will be little trouble in +clearing yourself, but oh, what agony to your sensitive nature! I tried +to keep the matter from Gerald, as I did the inquest by keeping him busy +with investigations; but a paper fell into his hands and his excitement +was frightful. Evading me he disappeared from the premises one evening, +but while I was searching for him he came to the house in a carriage, +bringing the picture of that repulsive negro, which you will remember. +Since then he has been more calm. Mr. Barksdale, your friend, I suppose, +was with him once or twice. + +"And now I come to this, the last night of our association upon earth; +the night that has parted us and rolled between us the mystery across +which our voices cannot reach nor our ears hear. + +"Gerald had long since been satisfied with the ability of living +substance to hold a photograph, and convinced that these photographs lie +dormant, so to speak, somewhere in our consciousness until awakened +again--that is, until made vivid. He was proceeding carefully toward the +proposition that a complete memory could be inherited, and in the second +generation or even further removed; you know his theory. There were +intermediate propositions that needed confirmation. When forms and +scenes come to the mind of the author, pure harmonies of color to that +of the artist, sweet co-ordinations of harmonies to the musician, whence +come they? Where is the thread of connection? Most men locate the seat +of their consciousness at the top of the head; they seem to think in +that spot. And strange, is it not, that when life passes out and all the +beautiful structure of the body claimed by the frost of death, that heat +lingers longest at that point! It is material in this letter, because +explaining Gerald's idea. He wished me to subject him to the finest +vibrations at that point. + +"The experiment was made with a new apparatus, which had been hung in +place of the first in the glass-room; or, rather, to this we made an +addition. A thin steel plate was fixed to the floor, directly under the +wire and elevated upon a small steel rod. Gerald insisted that as the +drum and membrane I used made the shapes we secured a new experiment +should be tried, with simple vibrations. So we hung in its place a steel +disk with a small projection from the center underneath. Kneeling upon +the lower disk Gerald was between two plates subject to the finest +vibration, his sensitive body the connection. There was left a gap of +one inch between his head and the projection under the upper disk and we +were to try first with the gap closed, and then with it opened. + +"You know how excitable he was. When he took his position he was white +and his large eyes flashed fire. His face settled into that peculiarly +harsh, fierce expression, for which I have never accounted except upon +the supposition of nervous agony. The handle to his violin had been +wrapped with fine steel wire, and this, extending a yard outward, was +bent into a tiny hook, intended to be clasped around the suspended wire +that it might convey to it the full vibrations from the sounding board +of the instrument. I made this connection, and, with the violin against +my ear, prepared to strike the 'A' note in the higher octave, which if +the vibrations were fine enough should suggest in his mind the figure of +a daisy. + +"Gerald, his eyes closed, remained motionless in his kneeling posture. +Suddenly a faint flash of light descended into the room and the thunder +rolled. And I, standing entranced by the beauty and splendor of that +face, lost all thought of the common laws of physics. A look of rapture +had suffused it, his eyes now looked out upon some vision, and a tender +smile perfected the exquisite curve of his lips. There was no need of +violin outside, the world was full of the fine quiverings of +electricity, the earth's invisible envelope was full of vibrations! +Nature was speaking a language of its own. What that mind saw between +the glories of this and the other life as it trembled on the margins of +both, is not given to me to know; but a vision had come to him--of what? + +"Ah, Edward, how different the awakening for him and me! I remember that +for a moment I seemed to float in a sea of flame; there was a shock like +unto nothing I had ever dreamed, and lying near me upon the floor, his +mortal face startled out of its beautiful expression, lay Gerald--dead!" + +The conclusion of the letter covered the proposed arrangements for +interment. Edward had little time to reflect upon the strange document. +The voice of Gen. Evan was heard calling at the foot of the stair. +Looking down he saw standing by him the straight, manly figure of +Barksdale. The hour of dreams had ended; the hour of action had arrived! + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +WAR TO THE KNIFE. + + +Barksdale heard the events of the night, as detailed by the general, +without apparent emotion. He had gone with them to look upon the remains +of Gerald. He brought from the scene only a graver look in his face, a +more gentle tone in his voice. These, however, soon passed. He was again +the cold, stern, level-headed man of affairs, listening to a strange +story. He lost no detail and his quick, trained mind gave the matter its +true position. + +The death of Gerald was peculiarly unfortunate for Edward. They had now +nothing left but the negro, and negro testimony could be bought for +little money. He would undertake to buy just such evidence as Dick had +given, from a dozen men in ten days and the first man he would have +sought was Slippery Dick, and the public would be thrown into doubt as +to Royson by the fact of deadly enmity between the men. To introduce +Dick upon the stand to testify and not support his testimony would be +almost a confession of guilt. The negro was too well known. Gerald's +statement would not be admissible, though his picture might. But of what +avail would the picture be without the explanation? + +Barksdale pointed out this clearly but briefly. Gen. Evan was amazed +that such a situation had not already presented itself. The court case +would have been Dick's word against Royson's; the result would have been +doubtful. The least that could be hoped for, if the State made out a +case against Edward, was imprisonment. + +But there was more; a simple escape was not sufficient; Edward must not +only escape but also show the conspiracy and put it where it belonged. +He, Barksdale, had no doubt upon that point. Royson was the guilty man. + +This analysis of the situation, leaving as it did the whole matter open +again, and the result doubtful, filled Evan with anxiety and vexation. + +"I thought," said he, walking the floor, "that we had everything fixed; +that the only thing necessary would be to hold to the negro and bring +him in at the right time. If he died or got away we had his confession +witnessed." Barksdale smiled and shook his head. + +"It is of the utmost importance," he said, "to hold the negro and bring +him in at the right time, but in my opinion it is vital to the case that +the negro be kept from communicating with Royson, and that the fact of +his arrest be concealed. Where have you got him?" + +"In the stone smoke-house," said Edward. + +"Tied." + +"No." + +"Then," said Barksdale, arising at once, "if not too late you must tie +him. There is no smoke-house in existence and no jail in this section +that can hold Slippery Dick if his hands are free." Thoroughly alarmed, +Gen. Evan led the way and Edward followed. Barksdale waved the latter +back. + +"Don't risk being seen; we can attend to this." They opened the door and +looked about the dim interior; it was empty. With a cry the general +rushed in. + +"He is gone!" Barksdale stood at the door; the building was a square +one, with racks overhead for hanging meat. There was not the slightest +chance of concealment. A mound of earth in one corner aroused his +suspicions. He went to it, found a burrow and, running his arm into +this, he laid hold of a human leg. + +"Just in time, General, he is here!" With a powerful effort he drew the +negro into the light. In one hour more he would have been under the +foundations and gone. Dick rose and glanced at the open door as he +brushed the dirt from his eyes, but there was a grip of steel upon his +collar, and a look in the face before him that suggested the uselessness +of resistance. The general recovered the strap and bound the elbows as +before. + +"I will bring up shackles," said Barksdale, briefly. "In the meantime, +this will answer. But you know the stake! Discharge the house servant, +and I will send a man of my own selection. In the meantime look in here +occasionally." They returned to the house and into the library, where +they found Edward and informed him of the arrangements. + +"Now," said Barksdale, "this is the result of my efforts in another +direction. The publication of libelous article is almost impossible, +with absolute secrecy as to the authorship. A good detective, with time +and money, can unravel the mystery and fix the responsibility upon the +guilty party. I went into this because Mr. Morgan was away, and the +circumstances were such that he could not act in the simplest manner if +he found the secret." He had drawn from his pocket a number of papers, +and to these, as he proceeded, he from time to time referred. + +"We got our first clew by purchase. Sometimes in a newspaper office +there is a man who is keen enough to preserve a sheet of manuscript that +he 'set up,' when reflection suggests that it may be of future value. +Briefly, I found such a man and bought this sheet"--lifting it a +moment--"of no value except as to the handwriting. + +"The first step toward discovering the name of the Tell-Tale +correspondent was a matter of difficulty, from the nature of the paper. +There was always in this case the _dernier ressort_; the editor could be +forced at the point of a pistol. But that was hazardous. The +correspondent's name was discovered in this way. We offered and paid a +person in position to know, for the addresses of all letters from the +paper's office to persons in this city. One man's name was frequently +repeated. We got a specimen of his handwriting and compared it with the +sheet of manuscript; the chirography was identical. + +"A brief examination of the new situation convinced me that the writer +did not act independently; he was a young man not long in the city and +could not have known the facts he wrote of nor have obtained them on his +own account without arousing suspicion. He was being used by another +party--by some one having confidential relations or connections with +certain families, Col. Montjoy's included. I then began to suspect the +guilty party. + +"The situation was now exceedingly delicate and I called into +consultation Mr. Dabney, one of our shrewdest young lawyers, and one, by +the way, Mr. Morgan, I will urge upon you to employ in this defense; in +fact, you will find no other necessary, but by all means hold to him. +The truth is," he added, "I have already retained him for you, but that +does not necessarily bind you." + +"I thank you," said Edward. "We shall retain him." + +"Very good. Now we wanted this young man's information and we did not +wish the man who used him to know that anything was being done or had +been done, and last week, after careful consultation, I acted. I called +in this young fellow and appointed him agent at an important place upon +our road, but remote, making his salary a good one. He jumped at the +chance and I did not give him an hour's time to get ready. He was to go +upon trial, and he went. I let him enjoy the sensation of prosperity for +a week before exploding my mine. Last night I went down and called on +him with our lawyer. We took him to the hotel, locked the door and +terrorized him into a confession, first giving him assurance that no +harm should come to him and that his position would not be affected. He +gave away the whole plot and conspiracy. + +"The man we want is Amos Royson!" + +The old general was out of his chair and jubilant. He was recalled to +the subject by the face of the speaker, now white and cold, fixed upon +him. + +"I did not have evidence enough to convict him of conspiracy, nor would +the evidence help Mr. Morgan's case, standing alone as it did. The +single witness, and he in my employ then, could not have convicted, +although he might have ruined, Royson. I am now working upon the murder +case. I came to the city at daylight and had just arrived home when your +note reached me. My intention was to go straight to Royson's office and +give him an opportunity of writing out his acknowledgement of his infamy +and retraction. If he had refused I would have killed him as surely as +there is a God in heaven." + +Edward held out his hand silently and the men understood each other. + +"Now," continued Barksdale, "the situation has changed. There is +evidence enough to convict Royson of conspiracy, perhaps. We must +consult Dabney, but I am inclined to believe that our course will be to +go to trial ourselves and spring the mine without having aroused +suspicion. When Slippery Dick goes upon the stand he must find Royson +confident and in my opinion he will convict himself in open court, if we +can get him there. The chances are he will be present. The case will +attract a great crowd. He would naturally come. But we shall take no +chances; he will come! + +"Just one thing more now; you perceive the importance, the vital +importance, of secrecy as to your prisoner; under no consideration must +his presence here be known outside. To insure this it seems necessary to +take one trusty man into our employ. Have you considered how we would be +involved if Mr. Morgan should be arrested?" + +"But he will not be. Sheriff----" + +"You forget Royson. He is merciless and alert. If he discovers Mr. +Morgan's presence in this community he will force an arrest. The sheriff +will do all in his power for us, but he is an officer under oath, and +with an eye, of course, to re-election. I would forestall this; I would +let the man who comes to guard Dick guard Mr. Morgan also. In other +words, let him go under arrest and accept a guard in his own house. The +sheriff can act in this upon his own discretion, but the arrest should +be made." Edward and the general were for a moment silent. + +"You are right," said the former. "Let the arrest be made." Barksdale +took his departure. + +The butler appeared and was summarily discharged for having abandoned +Virdow during the night. + +And then came the deputy, a quiet, confident man of few words, who +served the warrant upon Edward, and then, proceeding with his prisoner +to the smoke-house, put shackles upon Slippery Dick, and supplemented +them with handcuffs. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +PREPARING THE MINE. + + +This time the coroner was summoned. He came, examined the body of +Gerald, heard Virdow's statement and concluded that he could not hold an +inquest without subjecting himself to unpleasant criticism and giving +candidates for his office something to take hold of. + +The funeral was very quiet. Col. Montjoy, Mrs. Montjoy and Mary came in +the old family carriage and the general on horseback. + +The little group stood around the open coffin and gazed for the last +time upon the pale, chaste face. The general could not endure more than +the one glance. As it lay exposed to him, it was the perfect image of a +face that had never dimmed in his memory. Mary's tears fell silently as +she laid her little cross of white autumn rosebuds upon the silent +breast and turned away. Edward was waiting for her; she took his arm and +went upon the portico. + +"It is a sad blow to you, Mr. Morgan," she said. + +"It removes the only claim upon me," was his answer. "When all is over +and this trial ended, I shall very likely return to Europe for good!" +They were silent for a while. "I came here full of hope," he continued; +"I have met distrust, accusation, assaults upon my character and life, +the loss of friends, disappointments and now am accused of murder and +must undergo a public trial. It is enough to satisfy most men with--the +south." + +"And do you count your real friends as nothing?" + +"My real friends are few, but they count for much," he said, earnestly; +"it will be hard to part with them--with you. But fate has laid an iron +hand upon me. I must go." He found her looking at him with something of +wonder upon her face. + +"You know best," she said, quietly. There was something in her manner +that reminded him of the calm dignity of her father. + +"You do not understand me," he said, earnestly, "and I cannot explain, +and yet I will go this far. My parents have left me a mystery to +unfathom; until I have solved it I shall not come back, I cannot come +back." He took her hand in both of his. "It is this that restrains me; +you have been a true friend; it grieves me that I cannot share my +troubles with you and ask your woman's judgment, but I cannot--I cannot! +I only ask that you keep me always in your memory, as you will always be +the brightest spot in mine." She was now pale and deeply affected by his +tone and manner. + +"You cannot tell me, Mr. Morgan?" + +"Not even you, the woman I love; the only woman I have ever loved. Ah, +what have I said?" She had withdrawn her hand and was looking away. +"Forgive me; I did not know what I was saying. I, a man under indictment +for murder, a possible felon, an unknown!" + +The young girl looked at him fearlessly. + +"You are right. You can rely upon friendship, but under the +circumstances nothing can justify you in speaking of love to a +woman--you do not trust." + +"Do not trust! You cannot mean that!" She had turned away proudly and +would have left him. + +"I have seen so little of women," he said. "Let that be my excuse. I +would trust you with my life, my honor, my happiness--but I shall not +burden you with my troubles. I have everything to offer you but a name. +I have feared to tell you; I have looked to see you turn away in +suspicion and distrust--in horror. I could not. But anything, even that, +is better than reproach and wrong judging. + +"I tell you now that I love you as no woman was ever loved before; that +I have loved you since you first came into my life, and that though we +be parted by half a world of space, and through all eternity, I still +shall love you. But I shall never, so help me heaven, ask the woman I +love to share an unknown's lot! You have my reasons now; it is because I +do love you that I go away." He spoke the words passionately. And then +he found her standing close to his side. + +"And I," she said, looking up into his face through tearful but smiling +eyes, "do not care anything for your name or your doubts, and I tell +you, Edward Morgan, that you shall not go away; you shall not leave me." +He caught his breath and stood looking into her brave face. + +"But your family--it is proud----" + +"It will suffer nothing in pride. We will work out this little mystery +together." She extended her hand and, taking it, he took her also. She +drew back, shaking her head reproachfully. + +"I did not mean that." + +He was about to reply, but at that moment a scene was presented that +filled them both with sudden shame. How true it is that in the midst of +life we are in death. + +The hearse had passed the gate. Silently they entered the house. + +He led her back to the side of the dead man. + +"He loved you," he said slowly. "I shall speak the truth for him." Mary +bent above the white face and left a kiss upon the cold brow. + +"He was your friend," she said, fearing to look into his eye. + +He comprehended and was silent. + +It was soon over. The ritual for the dead, the slow journey to the city +of silence, a few moments about the open grave, the sound of dirt +falling upon the coffin, a prayer--and Gerald, living and dead, was no +longer a part of their lives. + +The Montjoys were to go home from the cemetery. Edward said farewell to +them separately and to Mary last. Strange paradox, this human life. He +came from that new-made grave almost happy. + +The time for action was approaching rapidly. He went with Dabney and the +general to see Slippery Dick for the last time before the trial. There +was now but one serious doubt that suggested itself. They took the man +at night to the grave of Rita and made him go over every detail of his +experience there. Under the influence of the scene he began with the +incident of the voodoo's "conjure bag" and in reply to queries showed +where it had been inserted in the cedar. Edward took his knife and began +to work at the plug, but this action plunged Dick into such terror that +Dabney cautioned Edward in a low voice to desist. + +"Dick," said the young man finally, with sudden decision, "if you fail +us in this matter not only shall I remove that plug but I shall put you +in jail and touch you with the bag." Dick was at once voluble with +promises. Edward, his memory stirred by the incident, was searching his +pockets. He had carried the little charm obtained for him by Mary +because of the tender memories of the night before their journey abroad. +He drew it out now and held it up. Dick had not forgotten it; he drew +back, begging piteously. Dabney was greatly interested. + +"That little charm has proved to be your protector, Mr. Morgan," he said +aloud for the negro's benefit. "You have not been in any danger. Neither +Dick nor anyone else could have harmed you. You should have told me +before. See how it has worked. The woman who gave you the bag came to +you in the night out on the ocean and showed you the face of this man; +you knew him even in the night, although he had never before met you nor +you him." + +A sound like the hiss of a snake came from the negro; he had never been +able to guess why this stranger had known him so quickly. He now gazed +upon his captor with mingled fear and awe. + +"Befo' Gawd, boss," he said, "I ain't goin' back on you, boss!" + +"Going back on him!" said Dabney, laughing. "I should think not. I did +not know that Mr. Morgan had you conjured. Let us return; Dick cannot +escape that woman in this world or the next. Give me the little bag, Mr. +Morgan--no, keep it yourself. As long as you have it you are safe." + +Edward was a prisoner, but in name only. Barksdale had not come again, +for more reasons than one, the main reason being extra precaution on +account of the watchful and suspicious Royson. But he acted quietly upon +the public mind. The day following the interview he caused to be +inserted in the morning paper an announcement of Edward's return and +arrest, and the additional fact that although his business in Paris had +not been finished, he had left upon the first steamer sailing from +Havre. At the club, he was outspoken in his denunciation of the +newspaper attacks and his confidence in the innocence of the man. There +was no hint in any quarter that it had been suspected that Rita Morgan +was really not murdered. It was generally understood that the defense +would rely upon the State's inability to make out a case. + +But Edward did not suffer greatly from loneliness. The day after the +funeral Mrs. Montjoy and Mary, together with the colonel, paid a formal +call and stayed for some hours; and the general came frequently with +Dabney and Eldridge, who had also been employed, and consulted over +their plans for the defense. Arrangements had been made with the +solicitor for a speedy trial and the momentous day dawned. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +SLIPPERY DICK RIGHTS A WRONG. + + +The prominence of the accused and of his friends, added to the +sensational publication, made the case one of immense interest. The +court house was crowded to its utmost and room had to be made within the +bar for prominent citizens. There was a "color line" feature in the +murder, and the gallery was packed with curious black faces. Edward, +quiet and self-contained, sat by his lawyers, and near him was the old +general and Col. Montjoy. Slightly in the rear was Barksdale, calm and +observant. The State had subpoened Royson as a witness, and, smilingly +indifferent, he occupied a seat as a member of the bar, inside the rail. +The case was called at last. + +"The State versus Edward Morgan, murder. Mr. Solicitor, what do you say +for the State?" asked the court. + +"Ready." + +"What do you say for the defense, gentlemen?" + +"Ready." + +"Mr. Clerk, call the jury." The panel was called and sworn. The work of +striking the jury then proceeded. Eldridge and Dabney were clever +practitioners and did not neglect any precaution. The jury list was +scanned and undesirable names eliminated with as much care as if the +prisoner had small chance of escape. + +This proceeding covered an hour, but at last the panel was complete and +sworn. The defendant was so little known that this was a simple matter. + +The witnesses for the State were then called and sworn. They consisted +of the coroner, the physician who had examined the wound, and others, +including Gen. Evan, Virdow and Royson. Gen. Evan and Virdow had also +been summoned by the defense. + +As Royson took the oath it was observed that he was slightly pale and +embarrassed, but this was attributed to the fact of his recent conflict +and the eager state of the great crowd. No man in the room kept such +watch upon him as Barksdale; never once did he take his eyes from the +scarred face. Witnesses for the defense were then called--Gen. Evan and +Virdow. They had taken the oath. The defense demanded that witnesses for +the State be sent out of the room until called. As Royson was rising to +comply with the requirement common in such cases, Dabney stood up and +said: + +"Before Mr. Royson goes out, may it please Your Honor, I would +respectfully ask of the solicitor what it is expected to prove by him?" + +"We expect to prove, Your Honor, that Mr. Royson wrote a certain letter +which charged the prisoner with being a man of mixed blood, and that +Rita Morgan, the woman who was killed, was the woman in question and the +only authority; an important point in the case. Mr. Royson, I should +say, is here by subpoena only and occupying a very delicate situation, +since he was afterward, by public report, engaged in a conflict with the +prisoner, growing out of the publication of that letter." + +"The solicitor is unnecessarily prolix, Your Honor. I asked the question +to withdraw our demand in his case as a matter of courtesy to a member +of the bar." Royson bowed and resumed his seat. + +"I now ask," said Dabney, "a like courtesy in behalf of Gen. Evan and +Prof. Virdow, witnesses for both State and defense." This was readily +granted. + +There was no demurrer to the indictment. The solicitor advanced before +the jury and read the document, word for word. "We expect to prove, +gentlemen of the jury, that the dead woman, named in this indictment, +was for many years housekeeper for the late John Morgan, and more +recently for the defendant in this case, Edward Morgan; that she resided +upon the premises with him and his cousin, Gerald Morgan; that on a +certain night, to wit, the date named in the indictment, she was +murdered by being struck in the head with some blunt implement, and that +she was discovered almost immediately thereafter by a witness; that +there was no one with the deceased at the time of her death but the +defendant, Edward Morgan, and that he, only, had a motive for her +death--namely, the suppression of certain facts, or certain publicly +alleged facts, which she alone possessed; that after her death, which +was sudden, he failed to notify the coroner, but permitted the body to +be buried without examination. And upon these facts, we say, the +defendant is guilty of murder. The coroner will please take the stand." + +The officer named appeared and gave in his testimony. He had, some days +after the burial of the woman, Rita Morgan, received a hint from an +anonymous letter that foul play was suspected in the case, and acting +under advice, had caused the body to be disinterred and he had held an +inquest upon it, with the result as expressed in the verdict which he +proceeded to read and which was then introduced as evidence. The witness +was turned over to the defense; they consulted and announced "no +questions". + +The next witness was the physician who examined the wound. He testified +to the presence of a wound in the back of the head that crushed the +skull and was sufficient to have caused death. Dabney asked of this +witness if there was much of a wound in the scalp, and the reply was +"No". + +"Was there any blood visible?" + +"No." The defense had no other questions for this officer, but announced +that they reserved the right to recall him if the case required it. + +The next witness was Virdow. He had seen the body after death, but had +not examined the back of the head; had seen a small cut upon the temple, +which the defendant had explained to him was made by her falling against +the glass in the conservatory. There was a pane broken at the point +indicated. + +And then Evan was put up. + +"Gen. Evan," asked the solicitor, "where were you upon the night that +Rita Morgan died?" + +"At the residence of Edward Morgan, sir." + +"Where were you when you first discovered the death of Rita Morgan?" + +"Gentlemen of the jury, at the time indicated, I was standing in the +glass-room occupied by the late Gerald Morgan, in the residence of the +defendant in this county----" + +"And state?" interrupted the solicitor. + +"And state. I was standing by the bedside of Gerald Morgan, who was ill. +I was deeply absorbed in thought and perfectly oblivious to my +surroundings, I suppose. I am certain that Edward Morgan was in the room +with me. I was aroused by hearing him cry out and then discovered that +the door leading into the shrubbery was open. I ran out and found him +near the head of the woman." + +"Did you notice any cuts or signs of blood?" + +"I noticed only a slight cut upon the forehead." + +"Did you examine her for other wounds?" + +"I did not. I understood then that she had, in a fit of some kind, +fallen against the glass, and that seeing her from within, Mr. Morgan +had run out and picked her up." + +"Did you hear any sound of breaking glass?" + +"I think I did. I cannot swear to it; my mind was completely absorbed at +that time. There was broken glass at the place pointed out by him." + +"That night--pointed out that night?" + +"No. I believe some days later." + +"Did you hear voices?" + +"I heard some one say 'They lied!' and then I heard Edward Morgan cry +aloud. Going out I found him by the dead body of the woman." + +The defense cross-questioned. + +"You do not swear, General Evan, that Mr. Morgan was not in the room at +the time the woman Rita was seized with sudden illness?" + +"I do not. It was my belief then, and is now----" + +"Stop," said the solicitor. + +"Confine yourself to facts only," said the court. + +"You are well acquainted with Mr. Morgan?" + +"As well as possible in the short time I have known him." + +"What is his character?" + +"He is a gentleman and as brave as any man I ever saw on the field of +battle." There was slight applause as the general came down, but it was +for the general himself. + +"Mr. Royson will please take the stand," said the solicitor. "You were +the author of the letter concerning the alleged parentage of Edward +Morgan, which was published in an extra in this city a few weeks since?" +Royson bowed slightly. + +"From whom did you get your information?" + +"From Rita Morgan," he said, calmly. There was a breathless silence for +a moment and then an angry murmur in the great audience. All eyes were +fixed upon Edward, who had grown pale, but he maintained his calmness. +The astounding statement had filled him with a sickening horror. Not +until that moment did he fully comprehend the extent of the enmity +cherished against him by the witness. On the face of Barksdale descended +a look as black as night. He did not, however, move a muscle. + +"You say that Rita Morgan told you--when?" + +"About a week previous to her death. She declared that her own son had +secured his rights at last. I had been consulted by her soon after John +Morgan's death, looking to the protection of those rights, she being of +the opinion that Gerald Morgan would inherit. When it was found that +this defendant here had inherited she called, paid my fee and made the +statement as given." + +"Why did you fight a duel with the defendant, then--knowing, or +believing you knew, his base parentage?" + +"I was forced to do so by the fact that I was challenged direct and no +informant demanded; and by the fact that while my friends were +discussing my situation, General Evan, acting under a mistaken idea, +vouched for him." + +These ingenuous answers took away the general's breath. He had never +anticipated such plausible lies. Even Dabney was for the moment +bewildered. Edward could scarcely restrain his emotion and horror. As a +matter of fact, Rita was not dead when the challenge was accepted. +Royson had lied under oath! + +"The witness is with you," said the solicitor, with just a tinge of +sarcasm in his tones. + +"Were the statements of Rita Morgan in writing?" asked Dabney. + +"No." + +"Then, may it please Your Honor, I move to rule them out." A debate +followed. The statements were ruled out. Royson was suffered to descend, +subject to recall. + +"The State closes," said the prosecuting officer. + +Then came the sensation of the day. + +The crowd and the bar were wondering what the defense would attempt with +no witnesses, when Dabney arose. + +"May it please Your Honor, we have now a witness, not here when the case +was called, whom we desire to bring in and have sworn. We shall decide +about introducing him within a few moments and there is one other +witness telegraphed for who has just reached the city. We ask leave to +introduce him upon his arrival." And then turning to the sheriff, he +whispered direction. The sheriff went to the hall and returned with a +negro. Royson was engaged in conversation, leaning over the back of his +chair and with his face averted. The witness was sworn and took the +stand facing the crowd. A murmur of surprise ran about the room, for +there, looking out upon them, was the well-known face of Slippery Dick. +The next proceedings were irregular but dramatic. Little Dabney drew +himself up to his full height and shouted in a shrill voice: + +"Look at that man, gentlemen of the jury." At the same time his finger +was pointed at Royson. All eyes were at once fixed upon that individual. +His face was as chalk, and the red scar across the nose flamed as so +much fiery paint. His eyes were fastened on the witness with such an +expression of fear and horror that those near him shuddered and drew +back slightly. And as he gazed his left hand fingered at his collar and +presently, with sudden haste, tore away the black cravat. Then he made +an effort to leave, but Barksdale arose and literally hurled him back in +his chair. The court rapped loudly. + +"I fine you $50, Mr. Barksdale. Take your seat!" + +Dick, unabashed, met that wild, pleading, threatening, futile gaze of +Royson, who was now but half-conscious of the proceedings. + +"Tell the jury, do you know this man?" shouted the shrill voice again, +the finger still pointing to Royson. + +"Yes, sah; dat's Mr. Royson." + +"Were you ever hired by him?" + +"Yes, sah." + +"When--the last time?" + +"'Bout three weeks ago." + +"To do what?" + +"Open 'er grave." + +"Whose grave?" + +"Rita Morgan's." + +"And what else?" + +There was intense silence; Dick twisted uneasily. + +"And what else?" repeated Dabney. + +"Knock her in de head." + +"Did you do it?" + +"Yes, sah." + +"Where did you knock her in the head?" + +"In de back of de head." + +"Hard?" + +"Hard enough to break her skull." + +"Did you see Mr. Morgan that night?" + +"Yes, sah." + +"Where?" + +"Downtown, jus' fo' I tole Mr. Royson 'all right'." + +"Where did you next see him?" + +"After he was killed by de lightnin'." + +"The witness is with you," said Dabney, the words ringing out in +triumph. He faced the solicitor defiantly. His questions had followed +each other with astounding rapidity and the effect on every hearer was +profound. The solicitor was silent; his eyes were upon Royson. Some one +had handed the latter a glass of water, which he was trying to drink. + +"I have no questions," said the solicitor gravely. + +"You can come down, Dick." The negro stepped down and started out. He +passed close to Royson, who was standing in the edge of the middle +aisle. Their eyes met. It may have been pure devilishness or simply +nervous facial contortion, but at that moment the negro's face took on a +grin. Whatever the cause, the effect was fatal to him. The approach of +the negro had acted upon the wretched Royson like a maddening stimulant. +At the sight of that diabolical countenance, he seized him with his left +hand and stabbed him frantically a dozen times before he could be +prevented. With a moan of anguish the negro fell dead, bathing the scene +in blood. + +A great cry went up from the spectators and not until the struggling +lawyer and the bloody corpse had been dragged out did the court succeed +in enforcing order. + +The solicitor went up and whispered to the judge, who nodded +immediately, but before he announced that a verdict of acquittal would +be allowed, the defendant's attorneys drew him aside, and made an appeal +to him to let them proceed, as a mere acquittal was not full justice to +the accused. + +Then the defense put up the ex-reporter and by him proved the +procurement by Royson of the libels and his authorship and gave his +connection with the affair from the beginning, which was the reception +of an anonymous card informing him that Royson held such information. + +Gen. Evan then testified that Rita died while Royson's second was +standing at the front door at Ilexhurst, with Royson's note in his +pocket. + +The jury was briefly charged by the court and without leaving the box +returned a verdict of not guilty. The tragedy and dramatic denouement +had wrought the audience to the highest pitch of excitement. The +revulsion of feeling was indicated by one immense cheer, and Edward +found himself surrounded by more friends than he thought he had +acquaintances, who shook his hand and congratulated him. Barksdale +stalked through the crowd and laid $50 upon the clerk's desk. Smiling up +at the court he said: + +"Will Your Honor not make it a thousand? It is too cheap!" + +But that good-natured dignitary replied: + +"The fine is remitted. You couldn't help it." + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +A WOMAN'S WIT CONQUERS. + + +Cambia was greatly disturbed by the sudden departure of the Montjoys. +She shut herself up and refused all visitors. Was the great-hearted yet +stern Cambia ill or distressed? The maid did not know. + +She had called for the "Figaro," to see the passenger list of the +steamer. The names were there; the steamer had sailed. And then as she +sat gazing upon the sheet another caught her attention in an adjoining +column, "Gaspard Levigne." It was in the body of an advertisement which +read: + +"Reward--A liberal reward will be paid for particulars of the death of +Gaspard Levigne, which, it is said, occurred recently in Paris. +Additional reward will be paid for the address of the present owner of +the Stradivarius violin lately owned by the said Gaspard Levigne and the +undersigned will buy said violin at full value, if for sale." + +Following this was a long and minute description of the instrument. The +advertisement was signed by Louis Levigne, Breslau, Silesia. + +Cambia read and reread this notice with pale face and gave herself to +reflection. She threw off the weight of the old troubles which had +swarmed over her again and prepared for action. Three hours later she +was on her way to Berlin; the next day found her in Breslau. A few +moments later and she was entering the house of the advertiser. + +In a dark, old-fashioned living-room, a slender, gray-haired man came +forward rather cautiously to meet her. She knew his face despite the +changes of nearly thirty years; he was the only brother of her husband +and one of her chief persecutors in those unhappy days. It was not +strange that in this tall, queenlike woman, trained to face great +audiences without embarrassment, he should fail to recognize the shy and +lonely little American who had invaded the family circle. He bowed, +unconsciously feeling the influence of her fine presence and commanding +eyes. + +"You, I suppose, are Louis Levigne, who advertised recently for +information of Gaspard Levigne?" she said. + +"Yes, madame; my brother was the unfortunate Gaspard. We think him dead. +Know you anything of him?" + +"I knew him years ago; I was then a singer and he was my accompanist. +Recently he died." The face of the man lighted up with a strange gleam. +She regarded him curiously and continued: "Died poor and friendless." + +"Ah, indeed! He should have communicated with us; he was not poor and +would not have been friendless." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know, madame, the new age is progressive. Some lands we had in +northern Silesia, worthless for 200 years, have developed iron and a +company has purchased." The woman smiled sadly. + +"Too late," she said, "for poor Gaspard. This is why you have +advertised?" + +"Yes, madame. There can be no settlement until we have proofs of +Gaspard's death." + +"You are the only heir aside from Gaspard?" + +"Yes, madame." The count grew restless under these questions, but +circumstances compelled courtesy to this visitor. + +"Excuse my interest, Count, but Gaspard was my friend and I knew of his +affairs. Did he not leave heirs?" The man replied with gesture in which +was mingled every shade of careless contempt that could be expressed. + +"There was a woman--a plaything of Gaspard's calling herself his +wife--but they parted nearly thirty years ago. He humored her and then +sent her back where she came from--America, I believe." + +"I am more than ever interested, Count. Gaspard did not impress me as +vicious." + +"Oh, well, follies of youth, call them. Gaspard was wild; he first left +here because of a mock-marriage escapade; when two years after he came +back with this little doll we supposed it was another case; at any rate, +Gaspard was once drunk enough to boast that she could never prove the +marriage." Cambia could restrain herself only with desperate efforts. +These were knife blows. + +"Were there no heirs?" + +"I have never heard. It matters little here. But, madame, you know of +Gaspard's death; can you not give me the facts so that I may obtain +proofs?" She looked at him steadily. + +"I saw him die." + +"Ah, that simplifies it all," said the count, pleasantly. "Will you be +kind enough to go before an attesting officer and complete the proofs? +You have answered the advertisement--do I insult you by speaking of +reward?" He looked critically at her simple but elegant attire and +hesitated. + +"No. But I do not care for money. I will furnish positive proof of the +death of Gaspard Levigne for the violin mentioned in the advertisement." +The man was now much astounded. + +"But madame, it is an heirloom; that is why I have advertised for it." + +"Then get it. And let me receive it direct from the hands of the present +holder or I shall not furnish the proofs." Some doubt of the woman's +sanity flashed over the count. + +"I have already explained, madame, that it is an heirloom----" + +"And I have shown you that I do not consider that as important." + +"But of what use can it possibly be to you? There are other Cremonas I +will buy--" + +"I want this one because it is the violin of Gaspard Levigne, and he was +my husband." + +The count nearly leaped from the floor. + +"When did he marry you, madame?" + +"That is a long story; but he did; we were bohemians in Paris. I am heir +to his interests in these mines, but I care little for that--very +little. I am independent. My husband's violin is my one wish now." The +realization of how completely he had been trapped betrayed the forced +courtesy of the man. + +"You married him. I presume you ascertained that the American wife was +dead?" + +"You have informed me that the American was not his wife." + +"But she was, and if she is living to-day madame's claims are very +slender." + +"You speak positively!" + +"I do. I saw the proofs. We should not have given the girl any +recognition without them, knowing Gaspard's former escapade." + +"Then," said the woman, her face lighting up with a sudden joy, and +growing stern again instantly, "then you lied just now, you cowardly +hound." + +"Madame." The count had retreated behind a chair and looked anxiously at +the bell, but she was in the way. + +"You lied, sir, I say. I am the wife, and now the widow, of Gaspard +Levigne, but not a second wife. I am that 'plaything,' as you called +her, the American, armed now with a knowledge of my rights and your +treachery. You may well shiver and grow pale, sir; I am no longer the +trembling child you terrified with brutality, but a woman who could buy +your family with its mines thrown in, and not suffer because of the bad +investment. From this room, upon the information you have given, I go to +put my case in the hands of lawyers and establish my claim. It is not +share and share in this country; my husband was the first born, and I am +his heir!" + +"My God!" + +"It is too late to call upon God; He is on my side now! I came to you, +sir, a woman to be loved, not a pauper. My father was more than a prince +in his country. His slaves were numbered by the hundreds, and his lands +would have sufficed for a dozen of your counts. I was crushed and my +life was ruined, and my husband turned against me. But he repented--he +repented. There was no war between Gaspard and me when he died." The man +looked on and believed her. + +"Madame," he said, humbly, "has been wronged. For myself, it matters +little, this new turn of affairs, but I have others." She had been +looking beyond him into space. + +"And yet," she said, "it is the violin I would have. It was the violin +that first spoke our love; it is a part of me; I would give my fortune +to possess it again." He was looking anxiously at her, not comprehending +this passion, but hoping much from it. + +"And how much will you give?" + +"I will give the mines and release all claims against you and your +father's estate." + +"Alas, madame, I can give you the name of the holder of that violin but +not the violin itself. You can make terms with him, and I will pay +whatever price is demanded." + +"How will I know you are not deceiving me?" + +"Madame is harsh, but she will be convinced if she knows the handwriting +of her--husband." + +"It is agreed," she said, struggling to keep down her excitement. Count +Levigne reached the coveted bell and in a few minutes secured a notary, +who drew up a formal agreement between the two parties. Cambia then gave +an affidavit setting forth the death of Gaspard Levigne in proper form +for use in court. Count Levigne took from his desk an envelope. + +"You have read my advertisement, madame. It was based on this: + + "Count L. Levigne, Breslau: When you receive this I will be + dead. Make no effort to trace me; it will be useless; my + present name is an assumed one. We have been enemies many + years, but everything changes in the presence of death, and I + do not begrudge you the pleasure of knowing that your brother + is beyond trouble and want forever and the title is yours. The + Cremona, to which I have clung even when honor was gone, I have + given to a young American named Morgan, who has made my life + happier in its winter than it was in its summer. + + "Gaspard Levigne." + +The count watched the reader curiously as she examined the letter. Her +face was white, but her hand did not tremble as she handed back the +letter. + +"It is well," she said. "I am satisfied. Good morning, gentlemen." + +In Paris, Cambia's mind was soon made up. She privately arranged for an +indefinite absence, and one day she disappeared. It was the sensation of +the hour; the newspapers got hold of it, and all Paris wondered. + +There had always been a mystery in the life of Cambia. No man had ever +invaded it beyond the day when she put herself in the hands of a manager +and laid the foundation for her world-wide success upon the lyric stage. + +And then Paris forgot; and only the circle of her friends watched and +waited. + +Meanwhile the swift steamer had carried Mrs. Gaspard Levigne across the +Atlantic and she had begun that journey into the south-land, once the +dream of her youth--the going back to father and to friends! + +The swift train carried her by towns and villages gorgeous with new +paint and through cities black with the smoke of factories. The negroes +about the stations were not of the old life, and the rushing, curt and +slangy young men who came and went upon the train belonged to a new age. + +The farms, with faded and dingy houses, poor fences, and uncared-for +fields and hedges, swept past like some bad dream. All was different; +not thirty years but a century had rolled its changes over the land +since her girlhood. + +And then came the alighting. Here was the city, different and yet the +same. But where was the great family carriage, with folding steps and +noble bays, the driver in livery, the footman to hold the door? Where +were father and friends? No human being came to greet her. + +She went to the hotel, locked herself in her room, and then Cambia gave +way for the first time in a generation to tears. + +But she was eminently a practical woman. She had not come to America to +weep. The emotion soon passed. At her request a file of recent papers +was laid before her, and she went through them carefully. She found that +which she had not looked for. + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +DEATH OF COL. MONTJOY. + + +It was the morning succeeding the trial, one of those southern days that +the late fall steals from summer and tempts the birds to sing in the +woodlands. Gen. Evan had borne Virdow and Edward in triumph to The +Cedars and, after breakfast, Edward had ridden over to The Hall, leaving +the two old men together. Virdow interested his host with accurate +descriptions of the great battles between the Germans and the French; +and Evan in turn gave him vivid accounts of the mighty Virginia +struggles between Federals and Confederates. + +When they finally came to Edward as a topic the German was eloquent. He +placed him beside himself in learning and ahead of all amateurs as +artist and musician. + +"Mr. Morgan agreed with me in his estimate of Edward," Virdow said. +"They were warm friends. Edward reciprocated the affection bestowed upon +him; in Europe they traveled much--" + +"Of what Mr. Morgan do you speak?" The general was puzzled. + +"The elder, Mr. John Morgan, I think. But what am I saying? I mean +Abingdon." + +"Abingdon? I do not know him." Virdow reflected a moment. + +"Abingdon was the name by which Edward knew John Morgan in Europe. They +met annually and were inseparable companions." + +"John Morgan--our John Morgan?" + +"Yes. I am told he was very eccentric, and this was probably a whim. But +it enabled him to study the character of his relative. He seems to have +been satisfied, and who wouldn't?" + +"You astound me. I had never heard that John Morgan went to Europe. I +did hear that he went annually to Canada, for the summer months; that is +all." + +"Edward never knew of the connection until he came here and saw a +picture of John Morgan, drawn by Gerald. We both recognized it +instantly." Evan was silent, thinking upon this curious information. At +last he asked: + +"Was Edward Mr. Morgan's only intimate companion?" + +"The only one." + +"Did you ever hear why Mr. Morgan concealed his identity under an +assumed name?" + +"No. We did not connect Abingdon with John Morgan until letters were +returned with information that Abingdon was dead; and then Gerald drew +his picture from memory." + +And as these two old gentlemen chattered about him, Edward himself was +approaching the Montjoys. + +He found Mary upon the porch; his horse's feet had announced his coming. +Her face was flushed and a glad light shone in her eyes. She gave him +her hand without words; she had intended expressing her pleasure and her +congratulations, but when the time came the words were impossible. + +"You have been anxious," he said, reading her silence. + +"Yes," she replied; "I could not doubt you but there are so many things +involved, and I had no one to talk with. It was a long suspense, but +women have to learn such lessons," and then she added, seeing that he +was silent: "It was the most unhappy day of my life: papa was gone, and +poor mamma's eyes have troubled her so much. She has bandaged them again +and stays in her room. The day seemed never-ending. When papa came he +was pale and haggard, and his face deceived me. I thought that something +had gone wrong--some mistake had occurred and you were in trouble, but +papa was ill, and the news--" She turned her face away suddenly, feeling +the tears starting. + +Edward drew her up to a settee under a spreading oak, and seating +himself beside her told her much of his life's story--his doubts, his +hopes, his fears. She held her breath as he entered upon his experience +at Ilexhurst and Gerald's life and identity were dwelt upon. + +"This," said he at last, "is your right to know. It is due to me. I +cannot let you misjudge the individual. While I am convinced, that does +not make a doubt a fact and on it I cannot build a future. You have my +history, and you know that in the heart of Edward Morgan you alone have +any part. The world holds no other woman for me, nor ever will; but +there is the end. If I stayed by you the day would come when this love +would sweep away every resolution, every sense of duty, every instinct +of my mind, except the instinct to love you, and for this reason I have +come to say that until life holds no mystery for Edward Morgan he will +be an exile from you." + +The girl's head was sunk upon her arms as it rested upon the settee. She +did not lift her face. What could she answer to such a revelation, such +a declaration? After a while he ceased to walk the gravel floor of their +arbor, and stood by her. Unconsciously he let his hand rest upon the +brown curls. "This does not mean," he said, very gently, "that I am +going away to mope and wear out life in idle regrets. Marion Evan lives; +I will find her. And then--and then--if she bids me, I will come back, +and with a clean record ask you to be my wife. Answer me, my love, my +only love--let me say these words this once--answer me; is this the +course that an honorable man should pursue?" + +She rose then and faced him proudly. His words had thrilled her soul. + +"It is. I could never love you, Edward, if you could offer less. I have +no doubt in my mind--none. A woman's heart knows without argument, and I +know that you will come to me some day. God be with you till we meet +again--and for all time and eternity. This will be my prayer." + +Without object, the silent couple, busy with their thoughts, entered the +living-room. The colonel was sitting in his arm-chair, his paper dropped +from his listless hand, his eyes closed. The Duchess in his lap had +fallen asleep, holding the old open-faced watch and its mystery of the +little boy within who cracked hickory nuts. They made a pretty +picture--youth and old age, early spring and late winter. Mary lifted +her hand warningly. + +"Softly," she said; "they sleep; don't disturb them." Edward looked +closely into the face of the old man, and then to the surprise of the +girl placed his arm about her waist. + +"Do not cry out," he said; "keep calm and remember that the little +mamma's health--" + +"What do you mean?" she said, looking with wonder into his agitated face +as she sought gently to free herself. "Have you forgotten----" + +"This is sleep indeed--but the sleep of eternity." + +She sprang from him with sudden terror and laid her hand upon the cold +forehead of her father. For an instant she stared into his face, with +straining eyes, and then with one frightful scream she sank by his side, +uttering his name in agonized tones. + +Edward strove tearfully to calm her; it was too late. Calling upon +husband and daughter frantically, Mrs. Montjoy rushed from her room into +the presence of death. She was blindfolded, but with unerring instinct +she found the still form and touched the dead face. The touch revealed +the truth; with one quick motion she tore away the bandages from her +face, and then in sudden awe the words fell from her: + +"I am blind!" Mary had risen to her side and was clinging to her, and +Edward had assisted, fearing she might fall to the floor. But with the +consciousness of her last misfortune had soon come calmness. She heeded +not the cries of the girl appealing to her, but knelt with her white +face lifted and said simply: + +"Dear Father, Thou art merciful; I have not seen him dead! Blest forever +be Thy Holy name!" Edward turned his back and stood with bowed head, the +silence broken now only by the sobs of the daughter. Still sleeping in +the lap of the dead, her chubby hand clasping the wonderful toy, was the +Duchess, and at her feet the streaming sunlight. The little boy came to +the door riding the old man's gold-headed cane for a horse and carrying +the cow horn, which he had pushed from its nail upon the porch. + +"Grandpa, ain't it time to blow the horn?" he said. "Grandma, why don't +grandpa wake up?" She drew him to her breast and silenced his queries. + +And still with a half-smile upon his patrician face--the face that women +and children loved and all men honored--sat the colonel; one more leaf +from the old south blown to earth. + +The little girl awoke at last, sat up and caught sight of the watch. + +"Look, gamma. Little boy in deir cackin' hickeynut," and she placed the +jewel against the ear of the kneeling woman. + +That peculiarly placid expression, driven away in the moment of +dissolution, had returned to the dead man; he seemed to hear the Duchess +prattle and the familiar demand for music upon the horn. + +Isham had responded to the outcry and rushed in. With a sob he had stood +by the body a moment and then gone out shaking his head and moaning. And +then, as they waited, there rang out upon the clear morning air the +plantation bell--not the merry call to labor and the sweet summons to +rest, which every animal on the plantation knew and loved, but a solemn +tolling, significant in its measured volume. + +And over the distant fields where the hands were finishing their labors, +the solemn sounds came floating. Old Peter lifted his head. "Who dat +ring dat bell dis time er day?" he said, curiously; and then, under the +lessening volume of the breeze, the sound fell to almost silence, to +rise again stronger than before and float with sonorous meaning. + +At long intervals they had heard it. It always marked a change in their +lives. + +One or two of the men began to move doubtfully toward the house, and +others followed, increasing their pace as the persistent alarm was +sounded, until some were running. And thus they came to where old Isham +tolled the bell, his eyes brimming over with tears. + +"Old marster's gone! Old marster's gone!" he called to the first, and +the words went down the line and were carried to the "quarters," which +soon gave back the death chant from excited women. The negroes edged +into the yard and into the hall, and then some of the oldest into the +solemn presence of the dead, gazing in silence upon the sad, white face +and closed eyes. + +Then there was a tumult in yard and hall; a shuffling of feet announced +a newcomer. Mammy Phyllis, walking with the aid of a staff, entered the +room and stood by the side of the dead man. Every voice was still; here +was the woman who had nursed him and who had raised him; hers was the +right to a superior grief. She gazed long and tenderly into the face of +her foster-child and master and turned away, but she came again and laid +her withered hand upon his forehead. This time she went, to come no +more. In the room of the bereaved wife she took her seat, to stay a +silent comforter for days. Her own grief found never a voice or a tear. + +One by one the negroes followed her; they passed in front of the +sleeper, looked steadily, silently, into his face and went out. Some +touched him with the tips of their fingers, doubtfully, pathetically. +For them, although not realized fully, it was the passing of the old +regime. It was the first step into that life where none but strangers +dwelt, where there was no sympathy, no understanding. Some would drift +into cities to die of disease, some to distant cabins, to grow old +alone. One day the last of the slaves would lie face up and the old +south would be no more. + +None was left but one. Edward came at last and stood before his host. +Long and thoughtfully he gazed and then passed out. He had place in +neither the old nor the new. But the dead man had been his friend. He +would not forget it. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +THE ESCAPE OF AMOS ROYSON. + + +When Amos Royson's senses returned to him he was standing in the middle +of a room in the county jail. The whirl in his head, wherein had mingled +the faces of men, trees, buildings and patches of sky illumined with +flashes of intensest light and vocal with a multitude of cries--these, +the rush of thoughts and the pressure upon his arteries, had ceased. He +looked about him in wonder. Was it all a dream? From the rear of the +building, where in their cage the negro prisoners were confined came a +mighty chorus, "Swing low, sweet chariot," making more intense the +silence of his own room. That was not of a dream, nor were the bare +walls, nor the barred windows. His hands nervously clutching his lapels +touched something cold and wet. He lifted them to the light; they were +bloody! He made no outcry when he saw this, but stood a long minute +gazing upon them, his face wearing in that half shadow a confession of +guilt. And in that minute all the facts of the day stood forth, clear +cut and distinct, and his situation unfolded itself. He was a murderer, +a perjurer and a conspirator. Not a human being in all that city would +dare to call him friend. + +The life of this man had been secretly bad; he had deluded himself with +maxims and rules of gentility. He was, in fact, no worse at that moment +in jail than he had been at heart for years. But now he had been +suddenly exposed; the causes he had set in motion had produced a natural +but unexpected climax, and it is a fact that in all the world there was +no man more surprised to find that Amos Royson was a villain than Royson +himself. He was stunned at first; then came rage; a blind, increasing +rebellion of spirit unused to defeat. He threw himself against the facts +that hemmed him in as a wild animal against its cage, but he could not +shake them. They were still facts. He was doomed by them. Then a tide of +grief overwhelmed him; his heart opened back into childhood; he plunged +face down upon his bed; silent, oblivious to time, and to the jailer's +offer of food returning no reply. Despair had received him! A weapon at +hand then would have ended the career of Amos Royson. + +Time passed. No human being from the outer world called upon him. +Counsel came at last, in answer to his request, and a line of defense +had been agreed upon. Temporary insanity would be set up in the murder +case, but even if this were successful, trials for perjury and +conspiracy must follow. The chances were against his acquittal in any, +and the most hopeful view he could take was imprisonment for life. + +For life! How often, as solicitor, he had heard the sentence descend +upon the poor wretches he prosecuted. And not one was as guilty as he. +This was the deliberate verdict of the fairest judge known to man--the +convicting instincts of the soul that tries its baser self. + +At the hands of the jailer Royson received the best possible treatment. +He was given the commodious front room and allowed every reasonable +freedom. This officer was the sheriff's deputy, and both offices were +political plums. The prisoner had largely shaped local politics and had +procured for him the the sheriff's bondsmen. Officeholders are not +ungrateful--when the office is elective. + +The front room meant much to a prisoner; it gave him glimpses into the +free, busy world outside, with its seemingly happy men and women, with +its voices of school children and musical cries of street vendors. + +This spot, the window of his room, became Royson's life. He stood there +hour after hour, only withdrawing in shame when he saw a familiar face +upon the street. And standing there one afternoon, just before dark, he +beheld Annie's little vehicle stop in front of the jail. She descended, +and as she came doubtfully forward she caught sight of his face. She was +dressed in deep black and wore a heavy crepe veil. There was a few +minutes' delay, then the room door opened and Annie was coming slowly +toward him, her veil thrown back, her face pale and her hand doubtfully +extended. He looked upon her coldly without changing his position. + +"Are you satisfied?" he said, at length, when she stood silent before +him. + +Whatever had been the emotion of the woman, it, too, passed with the +sound of his sentence. + +"I would not quarrel with you, Amos, and I might do so if I answered +that question as it deserves. I have but a few minutes to stop here and +will not waste them upon the past. The question is now as to the future. +Have you any plan?" + +"None," he replied, with a sneer. "I am beyond plans. Life is not worth +living if I were out, and the game is now not worth the candle." The +woman stood silent. + +"What are your chances for acquittal?" she asked, after a long silence. + +"Acquittal! Absolutely none! Life itself may by a hard struggle be +saved. After that, it is the asylum or the mines." + +"And then?" + +"And then? Well, then I shall again ask my loving cousin to bring me a +powder. I will remind her once more that no Royson ever wore chains or a +halter, however much they may have deserved them. And for the sake of +her children she will consent." She walked to the corridor door and +listened and then came back to him. He smiled and stretched out his +hand. + +"Amos," she whispered, hurriedly; "God forgive me, but I have brought +it. I am going to New York to-morrow, and the chance may not come again. +Remember, it is at your request." She was fumbling nervously at the +bosom of her dress. "The morphine I could not get without attracting +attention, but the chloroform I had. I give it to you for use only when +life--" He had taken the bottle and was quietly looking upon the white +liquid. + +"I thank you, cousin," he said, quietly, with a ghastly little laugh. "I +have no doubt but that I can be spared from the family gatherings and +that in days to come perhaps some one will occasionally say 'poor Amos,' +when my fate is recalled. Thanks, a thousand thanks! Strange, but the +thought of death actually gives me new life." He looked upon her +critically a moment and then a new smile dawned upon his face. + +"Ah," he said, "your note about Morgan; it will be unfortunate if that +ever comes to light. You were not smart, Annie. You could have bought +that with this bottle." She flushed in turn and bit her lip. The old +Annie was still dominant. + +"It would have been better since Mr. Morgan is to be my brother-in-law. +Still if there is no love between us it will not matter greatly. Mary +seems to be willing to furnish all the affection he will need." + +"Where is he?" he asked, hoarsely, not attempting to disguise his +suffering. She was now relentless. + +"Oh, at Ilexhurst, I suppose. The general is to care for the old German +until the household is arranged again and everything made ready for the +bride." + +"Is the marriage certain?" + +She smiled cheerfully. "Oh, yes. It is to take place soon, and then they +are going to Europe for a year." And then as, white with rage, he +steadied himself against the window, she said: "Mary insisted upon +writing a line to you; there it is. If you can get any comfort from it, +you are welcome." + +He took the note and thrust it in his pocket, never removing his eyes +from her face. A ray had fallen into the blackness of his despair. It +grew and brightened until it lighted his soul with a splendor that shone +from his eyes and trembled upon every lineament of his face. Not a word +had indicated its presence. It was the silent expression of a hope and a +desperate resolve. The woman saw it and drew back in alarm. A suspicion +that he was really insane came upon her mind, and she was alone, +helpless and shut in with a maniac. A wild desire to scream and flee +overwhelmed her; she turned toward the door and in a minute would have +been gone. + +But the man had read her correctly. He seized her, clapped his hand over +her mouth, lifted her as he would a child and thrust her backward on the +bed. Before she could tear the grip from her mouth, he had drawn the +cork with his teeth and drenched the pillow-case with chloroform. There +was one faint cry as he moved his hand, but the next instant the drug +was in her nostrils and lungs. She struggled frantically, then faintly, +and then lay powerless at the mercy of the man bending over her. + +Hardly more than two minutes had passed, but in that time Amos Royson +was transformed. He had a chance for life and that makes men of cowards. +He stripped away the outer garments of the woman and arrayed himself in +them, adding the bonnet and heavy veil, and then turned to go. He was +cool now and careful. He went to the bed and drew the cover over the +prostrate form. He had occupied the same place in the same attitude for +hours. The jailer would come, offer supper from the door and go away. He +would, if he got out, have the whole night for flight. And he would need +it. The morn might bring no waking to the silent form. The thought +chilled his blood, but it also added speed to his movements. He drew off +the pillow-case, rolled it into a ball and dropped it out of the window. +He had seen the woman approach with veil down and handkerchief to her +face. It was his cue. He bent his head, pressed his handkerchief to his +eyes beneath the veil and went below. The jailer let the bent, +sob-shaken figure in and then out of the office. The higher class seldom +came there. He stood bareheaded until the visitor climbed into the +vehicle and drove away. + +It was with the greatest difficulty only that Royson restrained himself +and suffered the little mare to keep a moderate pace. Fifteen minutes +ago a hopeless prisoner, and now free! Life is full of surprises. But +where? Positively the situation had shaped itself so rapidly he had not +the slightest plan in mind. He was free and hurrying into the country +without a hat and dressed in a woman's garb! + +The twilight had deepened into gloom. How long would it be before +pursuit began? And should he keep on the disguise? He slipped out of it +to be ready for rapid flight, and then upon a second thought put it on +again. He might be met and recognized. His whole manner had undergone a +change; he was now nervous and excited, and the horse unconsciously +urged along, was running at full speed. A half-hour at that rate would +bear him to The Hall. Cursing his imprudence, he checked the animal and +drove on more moderately and finally stopped. He could not think +intelligently. Should he go on to The Hall and throw himself upon the +mercy of his connections? They would be bound to save him. Mary! Ah, +Mary! And then the note thrust itself in mind. With feverish haste he +searched for and drew it out. He tore off the envelope and helped by a +flickering match he read: + + "You must have suffered before you could have sinned so, and I + am sorry for you. Believe me, however others may judge you, + there is no resentment but only forgiveness for you in the + heart of + + "Mary." + +Then the tumult within him died away. No man can say what that little +note did for Amos Royson that night. He would go to her, to this +generous girl, and ask her aid. But Annie! What if that forced sleep +should deepen into death! Who could extricate her? How would Mary +arrange that? She would get Morgan. He could not refuse her anything. He +could not falter when the family name and family honor were at stake. He +could not let his wife--his wife! A cry burst from the lips of the +desperate man. His wife! Yes, he would go to him, but not for help. Amos +Royson might die or escape--but the triumph of this man should be +short-lived. + +The mare began running again; he drew rein with a violence that brought +the animal's front feet high in air and almost threw her to the ground. +A new idea had been born; he almost shouted over it. He tore off the +woman's garb, dropped it in the buggy, sprang out and let the animal go. +In an instant the vehicle was out of sight in the dark woods, and Royson +was running the other way. For the idea born in his mind was this: + +"Of all the places in the world for me the safest is Ilexhurst--if--" He +pressed his hand to his breast. The bottle was still safe! And Annie! +The horse returning would lead to her release. + +Amos Royson had a general knowledge of the situation at Ilexhurst. At 12 +o'clock he entered through the glass-room and made his way to the body +of the house. He was familiar with the lower floor. The upper he could +guess at. He must first find the occupied room, and so, taking off his +shoes, he noiselessly ascended the stairway. He passed first into the +boy's room and tried the door to that known as the mother's, but it was +locked. He listened there long and intently, but heard no sound except +the thumping of his own heart. Then he crossed the hall and there, upon +a bed in the front room, dimly visible in the starlight, was the man he +sought. + +The discovery of his victim, helpless and completely within his power, +marked a crisis in the mental progress of Royson. He broke down and +trembled violently, not from conscience, but from a realization of the +fact that his escape was now an accomplished fact. This man before him +disposed of, Ilexhurst was his for an indefinite length of time. Here he +could rest and prepare for a distant flight. No one, probably, would +come, but should anyone come, why, the house was unoccupied. The mood +passed; he went back to the hall, drew out his handkerchief and +saturated it with liquid from the bottle in his pocket. A distant +tapping alarmed him, and he drew deeper into the shadow. Some one seemed +knocking at a rear door. Or was it a rat with a nut in the wall? All old +houses have them. No; it was the tapping of a friendly tree upon the +weather boards, or a ventilator in the garret. So he reasoned. There +came a strange sensation upon his brain, a sweet, sickening taste in his +mouth and dizziness. He cast the cloth far away and rushed to the stair, +his heart beating violently. He had almost chloroformed himself while +listening to his coward fears. + + * * * * * + +The dizziness passed away, but left him unnerved. He dared not walk now. +He crawled to the cloth and thence into the room. Near the bed he lifted +his head a little and saw the white face of the sleeper turned to him. +He raised the cloth and held it ready; there would be a struggle, and it +would be desperate. Would he fail? Was he not already weakened? He let +it fall gently in front of the sleeper's face, and then inch by inch +pushed it nearer. Over his own senses he felt the languor stealing; how +was it with the other? The long regular inspirations ceased, the man +slept profoundly and noiselessly--the first stage of unconsciousness. +The man on the floor crawled to the window and laid his pale cheek upon +the sill. + +How long Royson knelt he never knew. He stood up at last with throbbing +temples, but steadier. He went up to the sleeper and shook him--gently +at first, then violently. The drug had done its work. + +Then came the search for more matches and then light. And there upon the +side table, leaning against the wall, was the picture that Gerald had +drawn; the face of Mary, severe and noble, the fine eyes gazing straight +into his. + +He had not thought out his plans. It is true that the house was his for +days, if he wished it, but how about the figure upon the bed? Could he +occupy that building with such a tenant? It seemed to him the sleeper +moved. Quickly wetting the handkerchief again he laid it upon the cold +lips, with a towel over it to lessen evaporation. And as he turned, the +eyes of the picture followed him. He must have money to assist his +escape; the sleeper's clothing was there. He lifted the garments. An +irresistible power drew his attention to the little table, and there, +still fixed upon him, were the calm, proud eyes of the girl. Angrily he +cast aside the clothing. The eyes still held him in their power, and now +they were scornful. They seemed to measure and weigh him: Amos Royson, +murderer, perjurer, conspirator--thief! The words were spoken somewhere; +they became vocal in that still room. Terrified, he looked to the man +upon the bed and there he saw the eyes, half-open, fixed upon him and +the towel moving above the contemptuous lips. With one bound he passed +from the room, down the steps, toward the door. Anywhere to be out of +that room, that house! + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +HOW A DEBT WAS PAID. + + +On went the spirited mare to The Hall, skillfully avoiding obstructions, +and drew up at last before the big gate. She had not been gentle in her +approach, and old Isham was out in the night holding her bit and talking +to her before she realized that her coming had not been expected. + +"De Lord bless yer, horse, whar you be'n an' what you done wid young +missus?" Mary was now out on the porch. + +"What is it, Isham?" + +"For Gawd's sake, come hyar, missy. Dis hyar fool horse done come erlong +back 'thout young missus, an' I spec' he done los' her out in de road +somewhar--" Mary caught sight of the dress and bonnet and greatly +alarmed drew them out. What could have happened? Why was Annie's bonnet +and clothing in the buggy? For an instant her heart stood still. + +Her presence of mind soon returned. Her mother had retired, and so, +putting the maid on guard, she came out and with Isham beside her, +turned the horse's head back toward the city. But as mile after mile +passed nothing explained the mystery. There was no dark form by the +roadside. At no place did the intelligent animal scent blood and turn +aside. It was likely that Annie had gone to spend the night with a +friend, as she declared she would if the hour were too late to enter the +jail. But the clothing! + +The girl drove within sight of the prison, but could not bring herself, +at that hour, to stop there. She passed on to Annie's friends. She had +not been there. She tried others with no better success. And now, +thoroughly convinced that something terrible had occurred, she drove on +to Ilexhurst. As the tired mare climbed the hill and Mary saw the light +shining from the upper window, she began to realize that the situation +was not very much improved. After all, Annie's disappearance might be +easily explained and how she would sneer at her readiness to run to Mr. +Morgan! It was the thought of a very young girl. + +But it was too late to turn back. She drew rein before the iron gate and +boldly entered, leaving Isham with the vehicle. She rapidly traversed +the walk, ascended the steps and was reaching out for the knocker, when +the door was suddenly thrown open and a man ran violently against her. +She was almost hurled to the ground, but frightened as she was, it was +evident that the accidental meeting had affected the other more. He +staggered back into the hall and stood irresolute and white with terror. +She came forward amazed and only half believing the testimony of her +senses. + +"Mr. Royson!" The man drew a deep breath and put his hand upon a chair, +nodding his head. He had for the moment lost the power of speech. + +"What does it mean?" she asked. "Why are you--here? Where is Mr. +Morgan?" His ghastliness returned. He wavered above the chair and then +sank into it. Then he turned his face toward hers in silence. She read +something there, as in a book. She did not cry out, but went and caught +his arm and hung above him with white face. "You have not--oh, no, you +have not--" She could say no more. She caught his hand and looked dumbly +upon it. The man drew it away violently as the horror of memory came +upon him. + +"Not that way!" he said. + +"Ah, not that way! Speak to me, Mr. Royson--tell me you do not mean +it--he is not----" The whisper died out in that dim hall. He turned his +face away a moment and then looked back. Lifting his hand he pointed up +the stairway. She left him and staggered up the steps slowly, painfully, +holding by the rail; weighed upon by the horror above and the horror +below. Near the top she stopped and looked back; the man was watching +her as if fascinated. She went on; he arose and followed her. He found +her leaning against the door afraid to enter; her eyes riveted upon a +form stretched upon the bed, a cloth over its face; a strange sweet odor +in the air. He came and paused by her side, probably insane, for he was +smiling now. + +"Behold the bridegroom," he said. "Go to him; he is not dead. He has +been waiting for you. Why are you so late?" She heard only two words +clearly. "Not dead!" + +"Oh, no," he laughed; "not dead. He only sleeps, with a cloth and +chloroform upon his face. He is not dead!" With a movement swift as a +bounding deer, she sprang across the room, seized the cloth and hurled +it from the window. She added names that her maiden cheeks would have +paled at, and pressed her face to his, kissing the still and silent lips +and moaning piteously. + +The man at the door drew away suddenly, went to the stairway and passed +down. No sound was heard now in the house except the moaning of the girl +upstairs. He put on a hat in the hall below, closed the door cautiously +and prepared to depart as he had come, when again he paused irresolute. +Then he drew from his pocket a crumpled paper and read it. And there, +under that one jet which fell upon him in the great hall, something was +born that night in the heart of Amos Royson--something that proved him +for the moment akin to the gods. The girl had glided down the steps and +was fleeing past him for succor. He caught her arm. + +"Wait," he said gently. "I will help you!" She ceased to struggle and +looked appealingly into his face. "I have not much to say, but it is for +eternity. The man upstairs is now in no immediate danger. Mary, I have +loved you as I did not believe myself capable of loving anyone. It is +the glorious spot in the desert of my nature. I have been remorseless +with men; it all seemed war to me, a war of Ishmaelites--civilized war +is an absurdity. Had you found anything in me to love, I believe it +would have made me another man, but you did not. And none can blame you. +To-night, for every kind word you have spoken to Amos Royson, for the +note you sent him to-day, he will repay you a thousandfold. Come with +me." He half-lifted her up the steps and to the room of the sleeper. +Then wringing out wet towels he bathed the face and neck of the +unconscious man, rubbed the cold wrists and feet and forced cold water +into the mouth. It was a doubtful half-hour, but at last the sleeper +stirred and moaned. Then Royson paused. + +"He will awaken presently. Give me half an hour to get into a batteau on +the river and then you may tell him all. That--" he said, after a pause, +looking out of the window, through which was coming the distant clamor +of bells--"that indicates that Annie has waked and screamed. And now +good-by. I could have taken your lover's life." He picked up the picture +from the table, kissed it once and passed out. + +Mary was alone with her lover. Gradually under her hand consciousness +came back and he realized that the face in the light by him was not of +dreams but of life itself--that life which, but for her and the +gentleness of her woman's heart, would have passed out that night at +Ilexhurst. + +And as he drifted back again into consciousness under the willows of the +creeping river a little boat drifted toward the sea. + +Dawn was upon the eastern hills when Mary, with her rescued +sister-in-law, crept noiselessly into The Hall. It was in New York that +the latter read the account of her mortification. Norton was not there. +She had passed him in her flight. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +THE UNOPENED LETTER. + + +Soon it became known that Col. Montjoy had gone to his final judgment. +Then came the old friends of his young manhood out of their retreats; +the country for twenty miles about gave them up to the occasion. They +brought with them all that was left of the old times--courtesy, sympathy +and dignity. + +There were soldiers among them, and here and there an empty sleeve and a +scarred face. There was simply one less in their ranks. Another would +follow, and another; the morrow held the mystery for the next. + +Norton had returned. He was violently affected, after the fashion of +mercurial temperaments. On Edward by accident had fallen the +arrangements for the funeral, and with the advice of the general he had +managed them well. Fate seemed to make him a member of that household in +spite of himself. + +The general was made an honorary pall-bearer, and when the procession +moved at last into the city and to the church, without forethought it +fell to Edward--there was no one else--to support and sustain the +daughter of the house. It seemed a matter of course that he should do +this, and as they followed the coffin up the aisle, between the two +ranks of people gathered there, the fact was noted in silence to be +discussed later. This then, read the universal verdict, was the sequel +of a romance. + +But Edward thought of none of these things. The loving heart of the girl +was convulsed with grief. Since childhood she had been the idol of her +father, and between them had never come a cloud. To her that +white-haired father represented the best of manhood. Edward almost +lifted her to and from the carriage, and her weight was heavy upon his +arm as they followed the coffin. + +But the end came; beautiful voices had lifted the wounded hearts to +heaven and the minister had implored its benediction upon them. The +soul-harrowing sound of the clay upon the coffin had followed and all +was over. + +Edward found himself alone in the carriage with Mary, and the ride was +long. He did not know how to lead the troubled mind away from its horror +and teach it to cling to the unchanging rocks of faith. The girl had +sunk down behind her veil in the corner of the coach; her white hands +lay upon her lap. He took these in his own firm clasp and held them +tightly. It seemed natural that he should; she did not withdraw them; +she may not have known it. + +And so they came back home to where the brave little wife, who had +promised "though He slay me yet will I trust in Him," sat among the +shadows keeping her promise. The first shock had passed and after that +the faith and serene confidence of the woman were never disturbed. She +would have died at the stake the same way. + +The days that followed were uneventful, Norton had recovered his +composure as suddenly as he had lost it, and discussed the situation +freely. There was now no one to manage the place and he could not +determine what was to be done. In the meantime he was obliged to return +to business, and look after his wife. He went first to Edward and +thanking him for his kindness to mother and sister, hurried back to New +York. Edward had spent one more day with the Montjoys at Norton's +request, and now he, too, took his departure. + +When Edward parted from Mary and the blind mother he had recourse to his +sternest stoicism to restrain himself. He escaped an awkward situation +by promising to be gone only two days before coming again. At home he +found Virdow philosophically composed and engaged in the library, a new +servant having been provided, and everything proceeding smoothly. Edward +went to him and said, abruptly: + +"When is it your steamer sails, Herr Virdow?" + +"One week from to-day," said that individual, not a little surprised at +his friend's manner. "Why do you ask?" + +"Because I go with you, never again in all likelihood to enter America. +From to-day, then, you will excuse my absences. I have many affairs to +settle." + +Virdow heard him in silence, but presently he asked: + +"Are you not satisfied now, Edward." + +"I am satisfied that I am the son of Marion Evan, but I will have +undoubted and unmistakable proof before I set foot in this community +again! There is little chance to obtain it. Nearly thirty years--it is a +long time, and the back trail is covered up." + +"What are your plans?" + +"To employ the best detectives the world can afford, and give them carte +blanche." + +"But why this search? Is it not better to rest under your belief and +take life quietly? There are many new branches of science and +philosophy--you have a quick mind, you are young--why not come with me +and put aside the mere details of existence? There are greater truths +worth knowing, Edward, than the mere truth of one's ancestry." Edward +looked long and sadly into his face and shook his head. + +"These mere facts," he said at length, "mean everything with me." He +went to his room; there were hours of silence and then Virdow heard in +the stillness of the old house the sound of Gerald's violin, for +Edward's had been left in Mary's care. His philosophy could not resist +the Fatherland appeal that floated down the great hall and filled the +night with weird and tender melody. For the man who played worshipped as +he drew the bow. + +But silence came deep over Ilexhurst and Virdow slept. Not so Edward; he +was to begin his great search that night. He went to the wing-room and +the glass-room and flooded them with light. A thrill struck through him +as he surveyed again the scene and seemed to see the wild face of his +comrade pale in death upon the divan. There under that rod still +pointing significantly down to the steel disk he had died. And outside +in the darkness had Rita also died. He alone was left. The drama could +not be long now. There was but one actor. + +He searched among all the heaps of memoranda and writings upon the desk. +They were memoranda and notes upon experiments and queries. Edward +touched them one by one to the gas jet and saw them flame and blacken +into ashes, and now nothing was left but the portfolio--and that +contained but four pictures--the faces of Slippery Dick, himself and +Mary and the strange scene at the church. One only was valuable--the +face of the girl which he knew he had given to the artist upon the tune +he had played. This one he took, and restored the others. + +He had turned out the light in the glass-room, and was approaching the +jet in the wing-room to extinguish it, when upon the mantel he saw a +letter which bore the address "H. Abingdon, care John Morgan," unopened. +How long it had been there no one was left to tell. The postman, weary +of knocking, had probably brought it around to the glass-room; or the +servant had left it with Gerald. It was addressed by a woman's hand and +bore the postmark of Paris, with the date illegible. It was a hurried +note: + + "Dear Friend: What has happened? When you were called home so + suddenly, you wrote me that you had important news to + communicate if you could overcome certain scruples, and that + you would return immediately, or as soon as pressing litigation + involving large interests was settled, and in your postscript + you added 'keep up your courage.' You may imagine how I have + waited and watched, and read and reread the precious note. But + months have passed and I have not heard from you. Are you ill? + I will come to you. Are you still at work upon my interests? + Write to me and relieve the strain and anxiety. I would not + hurry you, but remember it is a mother who waits. Yours, + + "Cambia." + +"Cambia!" Edward repeated the name aloud. Cambia. A flood of thoughts +rushed over him. What was Cambia--John Morgan to him? The veil was +lifting. And then came a startling realization. Cambia, the wife of +Gaspard Levigne! + +"God in heaven," he said, fervently, "help me now!" Virdow was gone; +only the solemn memories of the room kept him company. He sank upon the +divan and buried his face in his hands. If Cambia was the woman, then +the man who had died in his arms--the exile, the iron-scarred, but +innocent, convict, the hero who passed in silence--was her husband! And +he? The great musician had given him not only the violin but genius! +Cambia had begged of his dying breath proofs of marriage. The paling +lips had moved to reply in vain. + +The mystery was laid bare; the father would not claim him, because of +his scars, and the mother--she dared not look him in the face with the +veil lifted! But he would face her; he would know the worst; nothing +could be more terrible than the mystery that was crushing the better +side of his life and making hope impossible. He would face her and +demand the secret. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +"WOMAN, WHAT WAS HE TO YOU?" + + +Edward had formed a definite determination and made his arrangements at +once. There had been a coolness between him and Eldridge since the +publication of the Royson letter, but necessity drove him to that lawyer +to conclude his arrangements for departure. It was a different man that +entered the lawyer's office this time. He gave directions for the +disposition of Ilexhurst and the conversion of other property into cash. +He would never live on the place again under any circumstances. + +His business was to be managed by the old legal firm in New York. + +The memoranda was completed and he took his departure. + +He had given orders for flowers and ascertained by telephone that they +were ready. At 3 o'clock he met Mary driving in and took his seat beside +her in the old family carriage. Her dress of black brought out the pale, +sweet face in all its beauty. She flushed slightly as he greeted her. +Within the vehicle were only the few roses she had been able to gather, +with cedar and euonymus. But they drove by a green house and he filled +the carriage with the choicest productions of the florist, and then gave +the order to the driver to proceed at once to the cemetery. + +Within the grounds, where many monuments marked the last resting-place +of the old family, was the plain newly made mound covering the remains +of friend and father. At sight if it Mary's calmness disappeared and her +grief overran its restraints. Edward stood silent, his face averted. + +Presently he thought of the flowers and brought them to her. In the +arrangement of these the bare sod disappeared and the girl's grief was +calmed. She lingered long about the spot, and before she left it knelt +in silent prayer, Edward lifting his hat and waiting with bowed head. + +The sad ceremony ended, she looked to him and he led the way to where +old Isham waited with the carriage. He sent him around toward Gerald's +grave, under a wide-spreading live oak, while they went afoot by the +direct way impassable for vehicles. They reached the parapet and would +have crossed it, when they saw kneeling at the head of the grave a woman +dressed in black, seemingly engaged in prayer. + +Edward had caused to be placed above the remains a simple marble slab, +which bore the brief inscription: + + GERALD MORGAN. + + Died 1888. + +They watched until the woman arose and laid a wreath upon the slab. When +at last she turned her face and surveyed the scene they saw before them, +pale and grief-stricken, Cambia. Edward felt the scene whirling about +him and his tongue paralyzed. Cambia, at sight of them gave way again to +a grief that had left her pale and haggard, and could only extend the +free hand, while with the other she sought to conceal her face. Edward +came near, his voice scarcely audible. + +"Cambia!" he exclaimed in wonder; "Cambia!" she nodded her head. + +"Yes, wretched, unhappy Cambia!" + +"Then, madame," he said, with deep emotion, pointing to the grave and +touching her arm, "what was he to you?" She looked him fairly in the +face from streaming eyes. + +"He was my son! It cannot harm him now. Alas, poor Cambia!" + +"Your son!" The man gazed about him bewildered. "Your son, madame? You +are mistaken! It cannot be!" + +"Ah!" she exclaimed; "how little you know. It can be--it is true!" + +"It cannot be; it cannot be!" the words of the horrified man were now a +whisper. + +"Do you think a mother does not know her offspring? Your talk is idle; +Gerald Morgan was my son. I have known, John Morgan knew----" + +"But Rita," he said, piteously. + +"Ah, Rita, poor Rita, she could not know!" + +The manner, the words, the tone overwhelmed him. He turned to Mary for +help in his despair. Almost without sound she had sunk to the grass and +now lay extended at full length. With a fierce exclamation Edward rushed +to her and lifted the little figure in his arms. Cambia was at his side. + +"What is this? What was she to him?" some explanation was necessary and +Edward's presence of mind returned. + +"He loved her," he said. The face of Cambia grew soft and tender and she +spread her wrap on the rustic bench. + +"Place her here and bring water. Daughter," she exclaimed, kneeling by +her side, "come, come, this will never do--" The girl's eyes opened and +for a moment rested in wonder upon Cambia. Then she remembered. A +strange expression settled upon her face as she gazed quickly upon +Edward. + +"Take me home, madame," she said; "take me home. I am deathly ill." + +They carried her to the carriage, and, entering, Cambia took the little +head in her lap. Shocked and now greatly alarmed, Edward gave orders to +the driver and entered. It was a long and weary ride, and all the time +the girl lay silent and speechless in Cambia's lap, now and then turning +upon Edward an indescribable look that cut him to the heart. + +They would have provided for her in the city, but she would not hear of +it. Her agitation became so great that Edward finally directed the +driver to return to The Hall. All the way back the older woman murmured +words of comfort and cheer, but the girl only wept and her slender form +shook with sobs. And it was not for herself that she grieved. + +And so they came to the house, and Mary, by a supreme effort, was able +to walk with assistance and to enter without disturbing the household. +Cambia supported her as they reached the hall to the room that had been +Mary's all her life--the room opposite her mother's. There in silence +she assisted the girl to the bed. From somewhere came Molly, the maid, +and together using the remedies that women know so well they made her +comfortable. No one in the house had been disturbed, and then as Mary +slept Cambia went out and found her way to the side of Mrs. Montjoy and +felt the bereaved woman's arms about her. + +"You have reconsidered, and wisely," said Mrs. Montjoy, when the first +burst of emotion was over. "I am glad you have come--where is Mary?" + +"She was fatigued from the excitement and long drive and is in her room. +I met her in town and came with her. But madame, think not of me; you +are now the sufferer; my troubles are old. But you--what can I say to +comfort you?" + +"I am at peace, my child; God's will be done. When you can say that you +will not feel even the weight of your sorrows. Life is not long, at +best, and mine must necessarily be short. Some day I will see again." +Cambia bowed her head until it rested upon the hand that clasped hers. +In the presence of such trust and courage she was a child. + +"My daughter," said Mrs. Montjoy, after a silence, her mind reverting to +her visitor's remark; "she is not ill?" + +"Not seriously, madame, but still she is not well." + +"Then I will go to her if you will lend me your aid. I am not yet +accustomed to finding my way. I suppose I will have no trouble after a +while." The strong arm of the younger woman clasped and guided her upon +the little journey, and the mother took the place of the maid. Tea was +brought to them and in the half-lighted room they sat by the now +sleeping figure on the bed, and whispered of Cambia's past and future. +The hours passed. The house had grown still and Molly had been sent to +tell Edward of the situation and give him his lamp. + +But Edward was not alone. The general had ridden over to inquire after +his neighbors and together they sat upon the veranda and talked, and +Edward listened or seemed to listen. The rush of thoughts, the +realization that had come over him at the cemetery, now that necessity +for immediate action had passed with his charge, returned. Cambia had +been found weeping over her son, and that son was Gerald. True or +untrue, it was fatal to him if Cambia was convinced. + +But it could not be less than true; he, Edward, was an outcast upon the +face of the earth; his dream was over; through these bitter reflections +the voice of the general rose and fell monotonously, as he spoke +feelingly of the dead friend whom he had known since childhood and told +of their long associations and adventures in the war. And then, as +Edward sought to bring himself back to the present, he found himself +growing hot and cold and his heart beating violently; the consequences +of the revelation made in the cemetery had extended no further than +himself and his own people, but Cambia was Marion Evan! And her father +was there, by him, ignorant that in the house was the daughter dead to +him for more than a quarter of a century. He could not control an +exclamation. The speaker paused and looked at him. + +"Did you speak?" The general waited courteously. + +"Did I? It must have been involuntarily--a habit! You were saying that +the colonel led his regiment at Malvern Hill." Evan regarded him +seriously. + +"Yes, I mentioned that some time ago. He was wounded and received the +praise of Jackson as he was borne past him. I think Montjoy considered +that the proudest moment of his life. When Jackson praised a man he was +apt to be worthy of it. He praised me once," he said, half-smiling over +the scene in mind. + +But Edward had again lost the thread of the narrative. Cambia had +returned; a revelation would follow; the general would meet his +daughter, and over the grave of Gerald the past would disappear from +their lives. What was to become of him? He remembered that John Morgan +had corresponded with her, and communicated personally. She must know +his history. In the coming denouement there would be a shock for him. He +would see these friends torn from him, not harshly nor unkindly, but +between them and him would fall the iron rule of caste, which has never +been broken in the south--the race law, which no man can override. With +something like a panic within he decided at once. He would not witness +the meeting. He would give them no chance to touch him by sympathetic +pity and by--aversion. It should all come to him by letter, while he was +far away! His affairs were in order. The next day he would be gone. + +"General," he said, "will you do me a favor? I must return to the city; +my coming was altogether a matter of accident, and I am afraid it will +inconvenience our friends here at this time to send me back. Let me have +your horse and I will send him to you in the morning." + +The abrupt interruption filled the old man with surprise. + +"Why, certainly, if you must go. But I thought you had no idea of +returning--is it imperative?" + +"Imperative. I am going away from the city to-morrow, and there are yet +matters--you understand, and Virdow is expecting me. I trust it will not +inconvenience you greatly. It would be well, probably, if one of us +stayed to-night; this sudden illness--the family's condition----" + +"Inconvenience! Nonsense! If you must go, why, the horse is yours of +course as long as you need him." But still perplexed the general waited +in silence for a more definite explanation. Edward was half-facing the +doorway and the lighted hall was exposed to him, but the shadow of the +porch hid him from anyone within. It was while they sat thus that the +old man felt a hand upon his arm and a grasp that made him wince. +Looking up he saw the face of his companion fixed on some object in the +hall, the eyes starting from their sockets. Glancing back he became the +witness of a picture that almost caused his heart to stand still. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + +FRAGMENTARY LIFE RECORDS. + + +The records of John Morgan's life are fragmentary. It was only by +joining the pieces and filling in the gaps that his friends obtained a +clear and rounded conception of his true character and knew at last the +real man. + +Born about 1820, the only son of a wealthy and influential father, his +possibilities seemed almost unlimited. To such a youth the peculiar +system of the South gave advantages not at that time afforded by any +other section. The South was approaching the zenith of its power; its +slaves did the field work of the whole people, leaving their owners +leisure for study, for travel and for display. Politics furnished the +popular field for endeavor; young men trained to the bar, polished by +study and foreign travel and inspired by lofty ideals of government, +threw themselves into public life, with results that have become now a +part of history. + +At 22, John Morgan was something more than a mere promise. He had +graduated with high honors at the Virginia University and returning home +had engaged in the practice of law--his maiden speech, delivered in a +murder case, winning for him a wide reputation. But at that critical +period a change came over him. To the surprise of his contemporaries he +neglected his growing practice, declined legislative honors and +gradually withdrew to the quiet of Ilexhurst, remaining in strict +retirement with his mother. + +The life of this gentlewoman had never been a very happy one; refined +and delicate she was in sharp contrast to her husband, who, from the +handsome, darkhaired gallant she first met at the White Sulphur Springs, +soon developed into a generous liver, with a marked leaning towards +strong drink, fox-hunting and cards. As the wife, in the crucible of +life, grew to pure gold, the grosser pleasures developed the elder +Morgan out of all likeness to the figure around which clung her girlish +memories. + +But Providence had given to her a boy, and in him there was a promise of +happier days. He grew up under her care, passionately devoted to the +beautiful mother, and his triumphs at college and at the bar brought +back to her something of the happiness she had known in dreams only. + +The blow had come with the arrival of Rita Morgan's mother. From that +time John Morgan devoted himself to the lonely wife, avoiding the +society of both sexes. His morbid imagination pictured his mother and +himself as disgraced in the eyes of the public, unconscious of the fact +that the public had but little interest in the domestic situation at +Ilexhurst, and no knowledge of the truth. He lived his quiet life by her +side in the little room at home, and when at last, hurt by his horse, +the father passed away, he closed up the house and took his mother +abroad for a stay of several years. When they returned life went on very +much as before. + +But of the man who came back from college little was left, aside from an +indomitable will and a genius for work. He threw himself into the +practice of his profession again, with a feverish desire for occupation, +and, bringing to his aid a mind well stored by long years of reflection +and reading, soon secured a large and lucrative practice. + +His fancy was for the criminal law. No pains, no expense was too great +for him where a point was to be made. Some of his witnesses in noted +cases cost him for traveling expense and detectives double his fee. He +kept up the fight with a species of fierce joy, his only moments of +elation, as far as the public knew, being the moments of victory. + +So it was that at 40 years of age John Morgan found himself with a +reputation extending far beyond the state and with a practice that left +him but little leisure. It was about this time he accidentally met +Marion Evan, a mere girl, and felt the hidden springs of youth rise in +his heart. Marion Evan received the attentions of the great criminal +lawyer without suspicion of their meaning. + +When it developed that he was deeply interested in her she was +astonished and then touched. It was until the end a matter of wonder to +her that John Morgan should have found anything in her to admire and +love, but those who looked on knowingly were not surprised. Of gentle +ways and clinging, dependent nature, varied by flashes of her father's +fire and spirit, she presented those variable moods well calculated to +dazzle and impress a man of Morgan's temperament. He entered upon his +courtship with the same carefulness and determination that marked his +legal practice, and with the aid of his wealth and reborn eloquence +carried the citadel of her maiden heart by storm. With misgivings Albert +Evan yielded his consent. + +But Marion Evan's education was far from complete. The mature lover +wished his bride to have every accomplishment that could add to her +pleasure in life; he intended to travel for some years and she was not +at that time sufficiently advanced in the languages to interpret the +records of the past. Her art was of course rudimentary. Only in vocal +music was she distinguished; already that voice which was to develop +such surprising powers spoke its thrilling message to those who could +understand, and John Morgan was one of these. + +So it was determined that Marion should for one year at least devote +herself to study and then the marriage would take place. Where to send +her was the important question, and upon the decision hinges this +narrative. + +Remote causes shape our destinies. That summer John Morgan took his +mother abroad for the last time and in Paris chance gave him +acquaintance with Gaspard Levigne, a man nearly as old as himself. +Morgan had been touched and impressed by the unchanging sadness of a +face that daily looked into his at their hotel, but it is likely that he +would have carried it in memory for a few weeks only had not the owner, +who occupied rooms near his own, played the violin one night while he +sat dreaming of home and the young girl who had given him her promise. +He felt that the hidden musician was saying for him that which had been +crying out for expression in his heart all his life. Upon the impulse of +the moment he entered this stranger's room and extended his hand. +Gaspard Levigne took it. They were friends. + +During their stay in Paris the two men became almost inseparable +companions. One day Gaspard was in the parlor of his new friend, when +John Morgan uncovered upon the table a marble bust of his fiancee and +briefly explained the situation. The musician lifted it in wonder and +studied its perfections with breathless interest. From that time he +never tired of the beautiful face, but always his admiration was mute. +His lips seemed to lose their power. + +The climax came when John Morgan, entering the dim room one evening, +found Gaspard Levigne with his face in his hands kneeling before the +marble, convulsed with grief. And then little by little he told his +story. He was of noble blood, the elder son of a family, poor but proud +and exclusive. Unto him had descended, from an Italian ancestor, the +genius of musical composition and a marvelous technique, while his +brother seemed to inherit the pride and arrogance of the Silesian side +of the house, with about all the practical sense and business ability +that had been won and transmitted. + +He had fallen blindly in love with a young girl beneath him in the +social scale, and whose only dowry was a pure heart and singularly +perfect beauty. The discovery of this situation filled the family with +alarm and strenuous efforts were made to divert the infatuated man, but +without changing his purpose. Pressure was brought to bear upon the +girl's parents, with better success. + +Nothing now remained for Gaspard but an elopement, and this he planned. +He took his brother into his confidence and was pleased to find him +after many refusals a valuable second. The elopement took place and +assisted by the brother he came to Paris. There his wife had died +leaving a boy, then nearly two years old. + +Then came the denouement; the marriage arranged for him had been a +mockery. + +It was a fearful blow. He did not return to his home. Upon him had been +saddled the whole crime. + +When the story was ended Gaspard went to his room and brought back a +little picture of the girl, which he placed by the marble bust. Morgan +read his meaning there; the two faces seemed identical. The picture +would have stood for a likeness of Marion Evan, in her father's hands. + +The conduct of Gaspard Levigne upon the discovery of the cruel fraud was +such as won the instant sympathy of the American, whose best years had +been sacrificed for his mother. The musician had not returned to Breslau +and exposed the treachery of the brother who was the idol of his +parents; he suffered in silence and cared for the child in an +institution near Paris. But John Morgan went and quietly verified the +facts. He engaged the ablest counsel and did his best to find a way to +right the wrong. + +Then came good Mrs. Morgan, who took the waif to her heart. He passed +from his father's arms, his only inheritance a mother's picture, of +which his own face was the miniature. + +Months passed; Gaspard Levigne learned English readily, and one more +result of the meeting in Paris was that John Morgan upon returning to +America had, through influential friends, obtained for Levigne a +lucrative position in a popular American institution, where instrumental +and vocal music were specialties. + +It was to this institution that Marion Evan was sent, with results +already known. + +The shock to John Morgan, when he received from Marion a pitiful letter, +telling of her decision and marriage, well-nigh destroyed him. The mind +does not rally and reactions are uncertain at 40. In the moment of his +despair he had torn up her letters and hurled her likeness in marble far +out to the deepest part of the lake. Pride alone prevented him following +it. And in this hour of gloom the one remaining friend, his mother, +passed from life. + +The public never knew his sufferings; he drew the mantle of silence a +little closer around him and sank deeper into his profession. He soon +became known as well for his eccentricities as for his genius; and +presently the inherited tendency toward alcoholic drinks found him an +easy victim. Another crisis in his life came a year after the downfall +of his air castle, and just as the south was preparing to enter upon her +fatal struggle. + +The mother of Rita had passed away, and so had the young woman's +husband. Rita had but recently returned to Ilexhurst, when one night she +came into his presence drenched with rain and terrorized by the +fierceness of an electrical storm then raging. Speechless from +exhaustion and excitement she could only beckon him to follow. Upon the +bed in her room, out in the broad back yard, now sharing with its +occupant the mud and water of the highway, her face white and her +disordered hair clinging about her neck and shoulders, lay the +insensible form of the only girl he had ever loved--Marion Evan, as he +still thought of her. He approached the bed and lifted her cold hands +and called her by endearing names, but she did not answer him. Rita, the +struggle over had sunk into semi-consciousness upon the floor. + +When the family physician had arrived John Morgan had placed Rita upon +the bed and had borne the other woman in his arms to the mother's room +upstairs, and stood waiting at the door. While the genial old +practitioner was working to restore consciousness to the young woman +there, a summons several times repeated was heard at the front door. +Morgan went in person and admitted a stranger, who presented a card that +bore the stamp of a foreign detective bureau. Speaking in French the +lawyer gravely welcomed him and led the way to the library. The +detective opened the interview: + +"Have you received my report of the 14th inst., M. Morgan?" + +"Yes. What have you additional?" + +"This. Mme. Levigne is with her husband and now in this city." Morgan +nodded his head. + +"So I have been informed." He went to the desk and wrote out a check. +"When do you purpose returning?" + +"As soon as possible, monsieur; to-morrow, if it pleases you." + +"I will call upon you in the morning; to-night I have company that +demands my whole time and attention. If I fail, here is your check. You +have been very successful." + +"Monsieur is very kind. I have not lost sight of Mme. Levigne in nearly +a year until to-night. Both she and her husband have left their hotel; +temporarily only I presume." The two men shook hands and parted. + +Upstairs the physician met Morgan returning. "The lady will soon be all +right; she has rallied and as soon as she gets under the influence of +the opiate I have given and into dry clothes, will be out of danger. But +the woman in the servant's house is, I am afraid, in a critical +condition." + +"Go to her, please," said Morgan quickly. Then entering the room he took +a seat by the side of the young woman--her hand in his. Marion looked +upon his grave face in wonder and confusion. Neither spoke. Her eyes +closed at last in slumber. + +Then came Mamie Hester, the old woman who had nursed him, one of those +family servants of the old South, whose lips never learned how to betray +secrets. + + * * * * * + +The sun rose grandly on the morning that Marion left Ixlexhurst. She +pushed back her heavy veil, letting its splendor light up her pale face +and gave her hand in sad farewell to John Morgan. Its golden beams +almost glorified the countenance of the man; or was it the light from a +great soul shining through? + +"A mother's prayers," she said brokenly. "They are all that I can give." + +"God bless and protect you till we meet again," he said, gently. + +She looked long and sadly toward the eastern horizon in whose belt of +gray woodland lay her childhood home, lowered her veil and hurried away. +A generation would pass before her feet returned upon that gravel walk. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + +"THE LAST SCENE OF ALL" + + +Mary slept. + +The blind woman, who had for awhile sat silent by her side, slowly +stroking and smoothing the girl's extended arm, nodded, her chin resting +upon her breast. + +Cambia alone was left awake in the room, her mind busy with its past. +The light was strong; noiselessly she went to the little table to lower +it. There, before her, lay a violin's antique case. As her gaze fell +upon it, the flame sank under her touch, leaving the room almost in the +shadow. The box was rounded at the ends and inlaid, the central design +being a curiously interwoven monogram. Smothering an exclamation, she +seized it in her arms and listened, looking cautiously upon her +companions. The elder woman lifted her head and turned sightless eyes +toward the light, then passed into sleep again. + +She went back eagerly to the box and tried its intricate fastenings; but +in the dim light they resisted her fingers, and she dare not turn up the +flame again. + +From the veranda in front came the murmur of men's voices; the house was +silent. Bearing the precious burden Cambia went quickly to the hallway +and paused for a moment under the arch that divided it. Overhead, +suspended by an invisible wire, was a snow-white pigeon with wings +outspread; behind swayed in the gentle breeze the foliage of the trees. +She stood for a moment, listening; and such was the picture presented to +Edward as he clutched the arm of his companion and leaned forward with +strained eyes into the light. + +Guided by the adjuncts of the scene he recognized at once a familiar +dream. But in place of the girl's was now a woman's face. + +Another caught a deeper meaning at the same instant, as the general's +suppressed breathing betrayed. + +Cambia heard nothing; her face was pale, her hand trembling. In the +light descending upon her she found the secret fastenings and the lid +opened. + +Then the two men beheld a strange thing; the object of that nervous +action was not the violin itself. A string accidentally touched by her +sparkling ring gave out a single minor note that startled her, but only +for a second did she pause and look around. Pressing firmly upon a spot +near the inner side of the lid she drew out a little panel of wood and +from the shallow cavity exposed, lifted quickly several folded papers, +which she opened. Then, half rising, she wavered and sank back fainting +upon the floor. The silence was broken. A cry burst from the lips of the +old general. + +"Marion! My child." In an instant he was by her side lifting and +caressing her. "Speak to me, daughter," he said. "It has been long, so +long. That face, that face! Child, it is your mother's as I saw it last. +Marion, look up; it is I, your father." And then he exclaimed +despairingly, as she did not answer him, "She is dead!" + +"It is not serious, General," said Edward hurriedly. "See, she is +reviving." Cambia steadied herself by a supreme effort and thrust back +the form that was supporting her. + +"Who calls Marion?" she cried wildly. "Marion Evan is dead! Cambia is +dead! I am the Countess Levigne." Her voice rang out in the hall and her +clenched hand held aloft, as though she feared they might seize them, +the papers she had plucked from the violin case. Then her eyes met the +general's; she paused in wonder and looked longingly into his aged face. +Her voice sank to a whisper: "Father, father! Is it indeed you? You at +last?" Clinging to the hands extended toward her she knelt and buried +her face in them, her form shaking with sobs. The old man's tall figure +swayed and trembled. + +"Not there, Marion, my child, not there. 'Tis I who should kneel! God +forgive me, it was I who--" + +"Hush, father, hush! The blame was mine. But I have paid for it with +agony, with the better years of my life. + +"But I could not come back until I came as the wife of the man I loved; +I would not break your heart. See! I have the papers. It was my +husband's violin." She hid her face in his bosom and let the tears flow +unchecked. + +Edward was standing, white and silent, gazing upon the scene; he could +not tear himself away. The general, his voice unsteady, saw him at last. +A smile broke through his working features and shone in his tearful +eyes: + +"Edward, my boy, have you no word? My child has come home!" Marion +lifted her face and drew herself from the sheltering arms with sudden +energy. + +"Edward," she said, gently and lovingly. "Edward!" Her eyes grew softer +and seemed to caress him with their glances. She went up to him and +placed both hands upon his shoulders. "His child, and your mother!" + +"My mother, my mother!" The words were whispers. His voice seemed to +linger upon them. + +"Yes! Cambia, the unhappy Marion, the Countess Levigne and your mother! +No longer ashamed to meet you, no longer an exile! Your mother, free to +meet your eyes without fear of reproach!" + +She was drawing his cheek to hers as she spoke. The general had come +nearer and now she placed the young man's hand in his. + +"But," said Edward, "Gerald! You called him your son!" She clasped her +hands over her eyes and turned away quickly. "How can it be? Tell me the +truth?" She looked back to him then in a dazed way. Finally a suspicion +of his difficulty came to her. "He was your twin brother. Did you not +know? Alas, poor Gerald!" + +"Ah!" said the old man, "it was then true!" + +"Mother," he said softly, lifting her face to his, "Gerald is at peace. +Let me fulfill all the hopes you cherished for both!" + +"God has showered blessings upon me this night," said the general +brokenly. "Edward!" The two men clasped hands and looked into each +other's eyes. And, radiant by their side, was the face of Cambia! + +At this moment, Mary, who had been awakened by their excited voices, her +hand outstretched toward the wall along which she had crept, came and +stood near them, gazing in wonder upon their beaming faces. With a bound +Edward reached her side and with an arm about her came to Cambia. + +"Mother," he said, "here is your daughter." As Cambia clasped her +lovingly to her bosom he acquainted Mary with what had occurred. And +then, happy in her wonder and smiles, Edward and Mary turned away and +discussed the story with the now fully awakened little mother. + +"And now," said he, "I can ask of you this precious life and be your son +indeed!" Mary's head was in her mother's lap. + +"She has loved you a long time, Edward; she is already yours." + +Presently he went upon the veranda, where father and daughter were +exchanging holy confidences, and, sitting by his mother's side, heard +the particulars of her life and bitter experience abroad. + +"When Mr. Morgan went to you, father, and stated a hypothetical case and +offered to find me, and you, outraged, suffering, declared that I could +only return when I had proofs of my marriage, I was without them. Mr. +Morgan sent me money to pay our expenses home--Gaspard's and mine--and +we did come, he unwilling and fearing violence, for dissipation had +changed his whole nature. Then, he had been informed of my one-time +engagement to Mr. Morgan, and he was well acquainted with that gentleman +and indebted to him for money loaned upon several occasions. He came to +America with me upon Mr. Morgan's guaranty, the sole condition imposed +upon him being that he should bring proofs of our marriage; and had he +continued to rely upon that guaranty, had he kept his word, there would +have been no trouble. But on the day we reached this city he gave way to +temptation again and remembered all my threats to leave him. In our +final interview he became suddenly jealous, and declared there was a +plot to separate us, and expressed a determination to destroy the +proofs. + +"It was then that I determined to act, and hazarded everything upon a +desperate move. I resolved to seize my husband's violin, not knowing +where his papers were, and hold it as security for my proofs. I thought +the plan would succeed; did not his love for that instrument exceed all +other passions? I had written to Rita, engaging to meet her on a certain +night at a livery stable, where we were to take a buggy and proceed to +Ilexhurst. The storm prevented. Gaspard had followed me, and at the +church door tore the instrument from my arms and left me insensible. +Rita carried me in her strong arms three miles to Ilexhurst, and it cost +her the life of the child that was born and died that night. + +"Poor, poor Rita! She herself had been all but dead when my boys were +born a week later, and the idea that one of them was her own was the +single hallucination of her mind. The boys were said to somewhat +resemble her. Rita's mother bore a strong resemblance to Mrs. Morgan's +family, as you have perhaps heard, and Mrs. Morgan was related to our +family, so the resemblance may be explained in that way. Mr. Morgan +never could clear up this hallucination of Rita's, and so the matter +rested that way. It could do no harm under the circumstances, and +might--" + +"No harm?" Edward shook his head sadly. + +"No harm. You, Edward, were sent away, and it was early seen that poor +Gerald would be delicate and probably an invalid. For my troubles, my +flight, had--. The poor woman gave her life to the care of my children. +Heaven bless her forever!" + +Gambia waited in silence a moment and then continued: + +"As soon as I could travel I made a business transaction of it, and +borrowed of my friend, John Morgan. He had acquainted me with the +conditions upon which I should be received at home; and now it was +impossible for me to meet them. Gaspard was gone. I thought I could find +him; I never did, until blind, poor, aged and dying, he sent for me." + +"John Morgan was faithful. He secured vocal teachers for me in Paris and +then an engagement to sing in public. I sang, and from that night my +money troubles ended. + +"Mr. Morgan stayed by me in Paris until my career was assured. Then, in +obedience to his country's call he came back here, running the blockade, +and fought up to Appomattox." + +"As gallant a fire-eater," said the general, "as ever shouldered a gun. +And he refused promotion on three occasions." + +"I can readily understand that," said Cambia. "His modesty was only +equaled by his devotion and courage. + +"He visited me again when the war ended, and we renewed the search. +After that came the Franco-Prussian war, the siege of Paris and the +commune, destroying all trails. But I sang on and searched on. When I +seemed to have exhausted the theaters I tried the prisons. And so the +years passed by. + +"In the meantime Mr. Morgan had done a generous thing; never for a +moment did he doubt me." She paused, struggling with a sudden emotion, +and then: "He had heard my statement--it was not like writing, Father, +he had heard it from my lips--and when the position of my boys became +embarrassing he gave them his own name, formally adopting them while he +was in Paris." + +"God bless him!" It was the general's voice. + +"And after that I felt easier. Every week, in all the long years that +have passed, brought me letters; every detail in their lives was known +to me; and of yours, Father. I knew all your troubles. Mr. Morgan +managed it. And," she continued softly, "I felt your embarrassments when +the war ended. Mr. Morgan offered you a loan--" + +"Yes, but I could not accept from him--" + +"It was from me, Father; it was mine; and it was my money that cared for +my boys. Yes," she said, lifting her head proudly, "Mr. Morgan +understood; he let me pay back everything, and when he died it was my +money, held in private trust by him, that constituted the bulk of the +fortune left by him for my boys. I earned it before the footlights, but +honestly! + +"Well, when poor Gaspard died--" + +"He is dead, then?" + +"Ah! of course you do not know. To-morrow I will tell you his story. I +stood by his body and at his grave, and I knew Edward. I had seen him +many times. Poor Gerald! My eyes have never beheld him since I took him +in my arms that day, a baby, and kissed him good--" She broke down and +wept bitterly. "Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful!" + +After awhile she lifted her face. + +"My husband had written briefly to his family just before death, the +letter to be mailed after; and thus they knew of it. But they did not +know the name he was living under. His brother, to inherit the title and +property, needed proof of death and advertised in European papers for +it. He also advertised for the violin. It was this that suggested to me +the hiding place of the missing papers. Before my marriage Gaspard had +once shown me the little slide. It had passed from my memory. But +Cambia's wits were sharper and the description supplied the link. I went +to Silesia and made a trade with the surviving brother, giving up my +interest in certain mines for the name of the person who held the +violin. Gaspard had described him to me in his letter as a young +American named Morgan. The name was nothing to the brother; it was +everything to me. I came here determined, first to search for the +papers, and, failing in that, to go home to you, my father. God has +guided me." + +She sat silent, one hand in her father's, the other clasped lovingly in +her son's. It was a silence none cared to break. But Edward, from time +to time, as his mind reviewed the past, lifted tenderly to his lips the +hand of Cambia. + + * * * * * + +Steadily the ocean greyhound plowed its way through the dark swells of +the Atlantic. A heavy bank of clouds covered the eastern sky almost to +the zenith, its upper edges paling in the glare of the full moon slowly +ascending beyond. + +The night was pleasant, the decks crowded. A young man and a young woman +sat by an elderly lady, hand in hand. They had been talking of a journey +made the year previous upon the same vessel, when the ocean sang a new +sweet song. They heard it again this night and were lost in dreams, when +the voice of a well-known novelist, who was telling a story to a charmed +circle, broke in: + +"It was my first journey upon the ocean. We had been greatly interested +in the little fellow because he was a waif from the great Parisian +world, and although at that time tenderly cared for by the gentle woman +who had become his benefactress, somehow he seemed to carry with him +another atmosphere, of loneliness--of isolation. Think of it, a +motherless babe afloat upon the ocean. It was the pathos of life made +visible. He did not realize it, but every heart there beat in sympathy +with his, and when it was whispered that the little voyager was dead, I +think every eye was wet with tears. Dead, almost consumed by fever. With +him had come the picture of a young and beautiful woman. He took it with +him beneath the little hands upon his breast. That night he was laid to +rest. Never had motherless babe such a burial. Gently, as though there +were danger of waking him, we let him sink into the dark waters, there +to be rocked in the lap of the ocean until God's day dawns and the seas +give up their dead. That was thirty years ago; yet to-night I seem to +see that little shrouded form slip down and down and down into the +depths. God grant that its mother was dead." + +When he ceased the elder woman in the little group had bent her head and +was silently weeping. + +"It sounds like a page from the early life of Gaspard Levigne," she said +to her companions. + +And then to the novelist, in a voice brimming over with tenderness: +"Grieve not for the child, my friend. God has given wings to love. There +is no place in all His universe that can hide a baby from its mother. +Love will find a way, be the ocean as wide and deep as eternity itself." + +And then, as they sat wondering, the moon rose above the clouds. Light +flashed upon the waves around them, and a golden path, stretching out +ahead, crossed the far horizon into the misty splendors of the sky. + + +THE END. + + + + +Writings of Harry Stillwell Edwards + + "Two Runaways" and other stories + "His Defense" and other stories + "The Marbeau Cousins" + "Sons and Fathers" + "Eneas Africanus" + "Eneas Africanus, Defendant" + "Just Sweethearts" + "How Sal Came Through" + "Brother Sim's Mistake" + "Isam's Spectacles" + "The Adventures of a Parrot" + "Shadow"--A Christmas Story + "The Vulture and His Shadow" + "On the Mount" + "Mam'selle Delphine" + + +_Others of Our Interesting Books_ Not by Edwards + + "Another Miracle," by John D. Spencer + "July"--A sketch of a real negro, by Bridges Smith + "Sam Simple's First Trip to New Orleans" + "B-Flat Barto"--A Saturday Evening Post Story + "Big-Foot Wallace"--A Texas Story + "Young Marooners," for boys and girls + "Marooner's Island," for boys and girls + "Reminiscences of Sidney Lanier," by George Herbert Clarke + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONS AND FATHERS*** + + +******* This file should be named 36112-8.txt or 36112-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/1/1/36112 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Sons and Fathers</p> +<p>Author: Harry Stillwell Edwards</p> +<p>Release Date: May 14, 2011 [eBook #36112]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONS AND FATHERS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Mary Meehan<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/sonsandfathers00edwaiala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/sonsandfathers00edwaiala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>SONS AND FATHERS</h1> + +<h2>BY HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS.</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>PUBLISHED BY<br /> +THE J. W. BURKE COMPANY<br /> +MACON, GEORGIA</h3> + +<h3>THE FIRST-PRIZE STORY +<span class="smcap">The Chicago Record's</span> series of "Stories of Mystery"</h3> + +<h3>This story—out of 816 competing—was awarded the FIRST +PRIZE—$10,000—in <br /><span class="smcap">The Chicago Record's</span> "$30,000 +to Authors" competition.</h3> + +<h3>Copyright 1896, by Harry Stillwell Edwards.<br /> +Copyright 1921, by Harry Stillwell Edwards.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. TWO SONS.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE STRANGER ON THE THRESHOLD.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. A BREATH FROM THE OLD SOUTH.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. THE MOTHER'S ROOM.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. THE STRANGER IN THE LIBRARY.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. "WHO SAYS THERE CAN BE A 'TOO LATE' FOR THE IMMORTAL MIND?"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. "BACK! WOULD YOU MURDER HER?"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. ON THE BACK TRAIL.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. THE TRAGEDY IN THE STORM.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. "GOD PITY ME! GOD PITY ME!"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. IN THE CRIMSON OF SUNSET.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. THE OLD SOUTH VERSUS THE NEW.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. FEELING THE ENEMY.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. THE OLD SOUTH DRAWS THE SWORD.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. "IN ALL THE WORLD, NO FAIRER FLOWER THAN THIS!"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. BEYOND THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. "IF I MEET THE MAN!"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. HOW THE CHALLENGE WAS WRITTEN.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. BROUGHT TO BAY.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. IN THE HANDS OF THEIR FRIENDS.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. "THE WITNESS IS DEAD."</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. THE DUEL AT SUNRISE.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. THE SHADOW OVER THE HALL.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. THE PROFILE ON THE MOON.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. THE MIDNIGHT SEARCH.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. GATHERING THE CLEWS.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. THE FACE THAT CAME IN DREAMS.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. THE THREE PICTURES.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. "HOME SWEET HOME."</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. THE RAINBOW IN THE MIST.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. THE HAND OF SCIENCE.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. THE FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. THE TRADE WITH SLIPPERY DICK.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. THE FACE OF THE BODY-SNATCHER.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. THE GRAVE IN THE PAST.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PLEDGE THAT WAS GIVEN.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. "WHICH OF THE TWO WAS MY MOTHER?"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. UNDER THE SPELL.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. BARKSDALE'S WARNING.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. THE HIDDEN HAND.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. WITH THE WOMAN WHO LOVED HIM.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. THE SONG THE OCEAN SANG.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. THE DEATH OF GASPARD LEVIGNE.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV. THE HEART OF CAMBIA.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV. THE MAN WITH THE TORCH.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI. WHAT THE SHEET HID.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII. ON THE MARGINS OF TWO WORLDS.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII. WAR TO THE KNIFE.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">CHAPTER XLIX. PREPARING THE MINE.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_L">CHAPTER L. SLIPPERY DICK RIGHTS A WRONG.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LI">CHAPTER LI. A WOMAN'S WIT CONQUERS.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LII">CHAPTER LII. DEATH OF COL. MONTJOY.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">CHAPTER LIII. THE ESCAPE OF AMOS ROYSON.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LIV">CHAPTER LIV. HOW A DEBT WAS PAID.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LV">CHAPTER LV. THE UNOPENED LETTER.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LVI">CHAPTER LVI. "WOMAN, WHAT WAS HE TO YOU?"</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LVII">CHAPTER LVII. FRAGMENTARY LIFE RECORDS.</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LVIII">CHAPTER LVIII. "THE LAST SCENE OF ALL"</a><br /><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONS AND FATHERS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>TWO SONS.</h3> + + +<p>At a little station in one of the gulf states, where the east and west +trains leave and pick up a few passengers daily, there met in the summer +of 1888 two men who since they are to appear frequently in this record, +are worthy of description. One who alighted from the west-bound train +was about 29 years of age. Tall and slender, he wore the usual +four-button cutaway coat, with vest and trousers to match, which, +despite its inappropriateness in such a climate, was the dress of the +young city man of the south, in obedience to the fashion set by the +northern metropolis. His small feet were incased in neat half-moroccos, +and his head protected by the regulation derby of that year. There was +an inch of white cuffs visible upon his wrists, held with silver link +buttons, and an inch and a half of standing collar, points turned down. +He carried a small traveling bag of alligator skin swung lightly over +his left shoulder, after the English style, and a silk umbrella in lieu +of a cane. This man paced the platform patiently.</p> + +<p>His neighbor was about the same age, dressed in a plain gray cassimer +suit. He wore a soft felt traveling hat and the regulation linen. He +was, however, of heavier build, derived apparently from free living, and +restless, since he moved rapidly from point to point, speaking with +train hands and others, his easy, good-fellow air invariably securing +him courtesy. His face was full and a trifle florid, but very mobile in +expression; while that of the first mentioned was somewhat sallow and +softened almost to sadness by gray eyes and long lashes. As they passed +each other the difference was both noticed and felt. The impressions +that the two would have conveyed to an analyst were action and +reflection. Perhaps in the case of the man in gray the impression would +have been heightened by sight of his two great commercial traveling bags +of Russia leather, bearing the initials "N. M. Jr."</p> + +<p>There was one other passenger on the platform—a very handsome young +woman, seated on her trunk and trying to interest herself in a pamphlet +spread upon her lap, but from time to time she lifted her face, and when +the eyes of the man glanced her way she lowered hers with a half-smile +on her lips. There was something in his tone and manner that disarmed +reserve.</p> + +<p>An officer in uniform came from the little eating-house near by and +approached the party.</p> + +<p>"Are there any passengers for the coast here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am going to Charleston," the young lady said.</p> + +<p>"Where are you from, miss?" Then, seeing her surprise, he continued: +"You must excuse the question but I am a quarantine officer and +Charleston has quarantined against all points that have been exposed to +yellow fever."</p> + +<p>"That, then, does not include me," she said, confidently. "I am from +Montgomery, where there is no yellow fever, and a strict quarantine."</p> + +<p>"Have you a health certificate?"</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A ticket from any of the authorities or physicians in Montgomery."</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I am Miss Kitty Blair, and going to visit friends in +Charleston."</p> + +<p>The officer looked embarrassed. The health-certificate regulation and +inland quarantine were new and forced him frequently into unpleasant +positions.</p> + +<p>"You will excuse me," he said, finally; "but have you anything that +could establish that fact, visiting cards, correspondence—"</p> + +<p>"I have told you," she replied, flushing a little, "who I am and where I +am from."</p> + +<p>"That would be sufficient, miss, if all that is needed is a lady's word, +but I am compelled to keep all persons from the east-bound train who +cannot prove their residence in a non-infected district. The law is +impartial."</p> + +<p>"And I cannot go on, then?" There were anxiety and pathos in her eyes +and tones. The gentleman in gray approached.</p> + +<p>"I can fix that, sir," he said, briskly addressing the officer. "I am +not personally acquainted with Miss Blair, but I can testify to what she +says as true. I have seen her in Montgomery almost daily. My name is +Montjoy—Norton Montjoy, Jr. Here are my letters and my baggage is over +yonder."</p> + +<p>"Are you a son of Col. Norton Montjoy of Georgia, colonel of the old +'fire-eaters,' as we used to call the regiment?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," and a happy smile illumined his face.</p> + +<p>"My name is Throckmorton," said the officer. "I followed your father +three years during the war, and you are—by Jove! you are the brat that +they once brought to camp and introduced as the latest infantry recruit! +Well, I see the likeness now."</p> + +<p>The two men shook hands fervently. The officer bowed to the lady. "The +matter is all right," he said, smiling; "I will give you a paper +presently that will carry you through." The new friends then walked +aside talking with animation. The quarantine officer soon got into war +anecdotes. The other stranger was now left to the amusement of watching +the varying expressions of the girl's face. She continued low over her +book and began to laugh. Presently, with a supreme effort she recovered +herself. Montjoy had shaken off his father's admirer and was coming her +way. She looked up shyly. "I am very much obliged to you for getting me +out of trouble; I——"</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it, miss; these fellows haven't much discretion."</p> + +<p>"But what a fib it was!"</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't been in Montgomery in two weeks. I came here from an aunt's +in Macon."</p> + +<p>"And I haven't been there in six months!" His laugh was hearty and +infectious. "Here comes your train; let me put you aboard." He secured +her a seat; the repentant quarantine officer supplied her with a ticket, +and then, shaking hands again with his father's friend, Montjoy hurried +to the southwester, which was threatening to get under way. The other +traveler was in and had a window open on the shady side.</p> + +<p>There were men only in the car, and as Montjoy entered he drew off his +coat and dropped it upon his bags. The motion of the starting train did +not add to his comfort. The red dust poured in through the open windows, +invading and irritating the lungs. He thought of the moonlit roof +gardens in New York with something like a groan.</p> + +<p>"Confound such a road!" and down went the book he was seriously trying +to lose himself in. His silent companion's face was lifted toward him:</p> + +<p>"A railroad company that will run cars like this on such a schedule +ought to be abolished, the officers imprisoned, track torn up and +rolling stock burned! But then," he continued, "I am the fool. I ought +not to have come by this God-forsaken route."</p> + +<p>"It is certainly not pleasant traveling to-day," his companion remarked, +sympathetically, showing even, white teeth under his brown mustache. +Montjoy had returned to his seat, but the smooth, even, musical tones of +the other echoed in his memory. He glanced back and presently came and +took a seat near by.</p> + +<p>"Are you a resident of the south?" It was the stranger who spoke first. +This delicate courtesy was not lost on Montjoy.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is, I count myself a citizen of this state. But I sell +clothing for a New York house and am away from home a great deal."</p> + +<p>"You delivered the young lady at the junction from quite a predicament."</p> + +<p>"Didn't I, though! Well, she is evidently a fine little woman and +pretty. Lies for a pretty woman don't count. By the way—may I ask? What +line of business are you in?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE STRANGER ON THE THRESHOLD.</h3> + + +<p>"I am not in business," said the other. "I am a nephew of John Morgan, +of Macon. I suppose you must have known him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"And am going out to wind up his affairs. I have been abroad and have +only just returned. The news of his death was quite a surprise to me. I +had not been informed that he was ill."</p> + +<p>"Then you are the heir of John Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"I am told so. It is but three days now since I reached this country, +and I have no information except as contained in a brief notice from +attorneys."</p> + +<p>"How long since you have seen him?"</p> + +<p>"I have never seen him—at least not since I was an infant, if then. My +parents left me to his care. I have spent my life in schools until six +or seven years ago, when, after graduating at Harvard and then at +Columbia college in law, I went abroad. Have never seen so much as the +picture of my uncle. I applied to him for one through his New York +lawyer once, sending a new one of myself, and he replied that he had too +much respect for art to have his taken."</p> + +<p>"That sounds like him," and Montjoy laughed heartily. "He was a florid, +sandy-haired man, with eyes always half-closed against the light, stout +and walked somewhat heavily. He has been a famous criminal lawyer, but +for many years has not seemed to care for practice. He was a heavy +drinker, but with all that you could rely implicitly upon what he said. +He left a large property, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"So I infer." Edward looked out of the window, but presently resumed the +conversation.</p> + +<p>"My uncle stood well in the community, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; we have lost a good citizen. Do you expect to make your home +with us?"</p> + +<p>"That depends upon circumstances. Very likely I shall."</p> + +<p>"I see! Well, sir, I trust you will. The Morgan place is a nice one and +has been closed to the young people too long."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid they will not find me very gay." A shadow flitted over his +face, blotting out the faint smile.</p> + +<p>The towns and villages glided away.</p> + +<p>Edward Morgan noticed that there was little paint upon the country +houses, and that the fences were gone from the neighborhoods. And then +the sun sank below the black cloud, painting its peaks with gold, and +filling the caverns with yellow light; church spires, tall buildings and +electric-light towers filed by with solemn dignity and then stood +motionless. The journey was at an end.</p> + +<p>"My home is six miles out," said Montjoy, "and if you will go with me I +shall be glad to have you. It is quite a ride, but anything is +preferable to the hotels."</p> + +<p>Morgan's face lighted up quickly at this unexpected courtesy.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said "but I don't mind the hotels. I have never had any +other home, sir, except boarding houses." Through his smile there fell +the little, destroying shadow. Montjoy had not expected him to accept, +but he turned now, with his winning manner.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I insist. We shall find a wagon waiting outside, and +to-morrow I am coming in and shall bring you back. We will have to get +acquainted some of these days, and there is nothing like making an early +start." He was already heading for the sidewalk; his company was as +sunlight and Morgan was tempted to stay in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall go," he said. "You are very kind."</p> + +<p>A four-seated vehicle stood outside and by it a little old negro, who +laughed as Montjoy rapidly approached.</p> + +<p>"Well, Isam," he said, tossing his bag in, "how are all at home?"</p> + +<p>"Dey's all well."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Mr. Morgan, we shall leave your trunks, but I can supply +you with everything for a 'one-night stand.'"</p> + +<p>"I have a valise that will answer, if there is room."</p> + +<p>"Plenty. Let Isam have the check and he will get it." While Morgan was +feeling for his bit of brass Isam continued:</p> + +<p>"Miss Annie will be mighty glad to see you. Sent me in here now goin' on +fo' times an' gettin' madder——"</p> + +<p>"That's all right; here's the check; hurry up." The negro started off +rapidly.</p> + +<p>"Drive by the club, Isam," he said, when the negro had resumed the +lines. "I reckon we'll be too late for supper at home; better get it in +town."</p> + +<p>"Miss Mary save supper for you, sho', Marse Norton."</p> + +<p>"Save, the mischief! Go ahead!" The single horse moved forward in a +dignified trot.</p> + +<p>As they entered the club several young men were grouped near a center +table. There was a vista of open doors, a glimmer of cards and the crash +of billiards. Montjoy walked up and dropped his hat on the table. There +followed a general handshaking. Edward Morgan noticed that they greeted +him with cordiality. Then he saw his manner change and he turned with a +show of formality.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, this is my friend, Mr. Morgan, a nephew of Col. John +Morgan." He rapidly pronounced the names of those present, and each +shook the newcomer's hand. At the same time Morgan felt their sudden +scrutiny, but it was brief. Montjoy rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to have, gentlemen? John," to the old waiter, "how +are you, John?"</p> + +<p>"First rate, Marse Norton; first rate." The old man bowed and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Take these orders, John. Five toddies, one Rhine wine, and hurry, John! +Oh, John!" The worthy came back. "There is only one mistake you can make +with mine; take care about the water!"</p> + +<p>"All right, sah, all right! Dare won't be any!"</p> + +<p>Montjoy ordered a tremendous supper, as he called it, and while waiting +the half-hour for its preparation, several of the party repeated the +order for refreshments, it appeared to the stranger, with something like +anxiety. It was as though they feared an opportunity to return the +courtesies they had accepted would not be given. None joined them at +supper, but when the newcomers were seated one of the gentlemen lounged +near and dropping into a seat renewed the conversation that had been +interrupted. Champagne had been added to the supper and this gentleman +yielded at length to Montjoy's demand and joined them.</p> + +<p>The conversation ran upon local politics until Morgan began to feel the +isolation. He took to studying the new man and presently felt the +slight, inexplicable prejudice that he had formed upon the introduction, +wearing away. The man was tall, dark and straightly built, probably +thirty years of age, with fine eyes and unchanging countenance. He did +but little talking, and when he spoke it was with great deliberation and +positiveness. If there were an unpleasant shading of character written +there it was in the mouth, which, while not ill-formed, seemed to +promise a relentless disposition. But the high and noble forehead +redeemed it all. This man was now addressing him:</p> + +<p>"You will remain some time in Macon, Mr. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>The voice possessed but few curves; it grated a trifle upon the +stranger.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell as yet," he said; "I do not know what will be required of +me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall be pleased to see you at my place of business whenever +you find an opportunity of calling. Norton, bring Mr. Morgan down to see +me."</p> + +<p>He laid his card by Edward and bade them good-evening. Looking over his +plate, the latter read H. R. Barksdale, president A. F. & C. railroad. +He had not caught the name in the general introduction. "Good fellow," +said Montjoy, between mouthfuls; "talked more to-night than I ever heard +him, and never knew him to pull a card before."</p> + +<p>The night was dark. The road ran over hills, but sometimes was sandy +enough to reduce the horse to his slowest gait. "From this point," said +Montjoy, looking back, "you can see the city five miles away, rather a +good view in the daytime, but now only the scattered electric lights +show up."</p> + +<p>"It looks like the south of France," said Morgan. Montjoy revealed the +direction of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"You will find things at home very different from what they once were," +he put in. "With free labor the plantations have run down, and it is +very hard for the old planters to make anything out of land now. The +negroes won't work and it hardly pays to plant cotton. I wish often that +father could do something else, but he can't change at his time of +life."</p> + +<p>"Could not the young men do better with the plantations?"</p> + +<p>"Young men! My dear sir, the young men can't afford to work the +plantations; it is as much as they can do to make a living in town—most +of them."</p> + +<p>"Is there room for all?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed! They are having a hard time of it, I reckon, and salaries +are getting smaller every year."</p> + +<p>"I have heard," said Morgan, slowly, "that labor is the wealth of a +country. It seems to me that if they expect to make anything out of +this, they must labor in the productive branches. Where does the support +for all come from?"</p> + +<p>"From the farms—from cotton, mostly."</p> + +<p>"The negro is, then, after all, the productive agent."</p> + +<p>Montjoy thought a moment, then replied:</p> + +<p>"Yes, as a rule. Manufacturing is increasing and there is some +development in mining, but as a matter of fact the negroes and the poor +whites of the country keep the balance up. Somebody has got to sweat it +out between the plow handles, but you can bet your bottom dollar that +Montjoy is out. I couldn't make $100 a year on the best plantation in +Georgia, but I can make $5,000 selling clothing."</p> + +<p>The dignified horse had climbed his last hill for the night and was just +turning into an avenue, when a dark form came plunging out of the shadow +and collided with him violently. Morgan beheld a rider almost unhorsed +and heard an oath. For an instant only he saw the man's face, white and +malignant, and then it disappeared in the darkness. To Montjoy's +greeting, good-naturedly hurled into the night, there came no reply.</p> + +<p>"My wife's cousin," he said, laughing. "I am glad it is not my horse he +is riding to-night."</p> + +<p>They came up in front of a large house with Corinthian columns and many +lights. There was a sudden movement of chairs upon the long veranda and +then a young woman came slowly down to the gate and lifted her face to +Montjoy's kiss. A pretty boy of five climbed into his arms. Morgan stood +silent, touched by the scene. He started violently as Norton Montjoy, +remembering his presence, called his name. The woman extended her hand.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to see you," she said, accenting the adjective. Morgan, +sensitive to fine impressions, did not like the voice, although the +courtesy was perfect.</p> + +<p>They advanced to the porch. An old gentleman was standing at the top of +the steps. In the light streaming from the hallway Morgan saw that he +was tall and soldierly and with gray hair pressed back in great waves +from the temples. He put one arm around his son and the other around his +grandson, but did not remove his eyes from the guest. While he addressed +words of welcome and chiding to the former, he was slowly extending his +right hand, seeing which the son said gayly:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morgan, father—a nephew of Col. John Morgan." The light fell upon +the half-turned face of the old gentleman and showed it lighted by a +mild and benevolent expression and dawning smile.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Come in, Mr. Morgan, come in; I am glad to see you."</p> + +<p>The words were cordial and tone of voice perfect, but to Edward there +seemed a shading of surprise in the prolonged gaze that rested upon him.</p> + +<p>Norton had passed on to the end of the porch, where an elderly lady sat +upright, prevented from rising by a little girl asleep in her lap. There +were sounds of repeated kisses as she embraced her overgrown boy, and +then her voice:</p> + +<p>"The Duchess tried to keep her eyes open for you, but she could not. Why +are you so late?" Her voice was as the winds in the pines, and the hand +she gave to Morgan a moment later was as cool as chamois and as soft.</p> + +<p>A young girl had come to the doorway. She was simply dressed in white +and her abundant hair was twisted into the Grecian knot that makes some +women appear more womanly. She put her arms about the big brother and +gave her little hand to Morgan. For a moment their eyes met, and then, +gently disengaging her hand, she went to lean against her father's +chair, softly stroking his white hair, while the conversation went +'round.</p> + +<p>"Mary," said the older woman, presently, "Mr. Morgan and Norton have had +a long ride and must be hungry."</p> + +<p>"No," said the latter, checking the girl's sudden movement, "we have had +something to eat in town."</p> + +<p>"You should have waited, my son; it was a needless expense," said the +mother, gently. "But I am afraid you will never practice economy." +Norton laughed and did not dispute the proposition. The young mother and +children disappeared, and Norton gave a spirited account of the +quarantine incident without securing applause.</p> + +<p>"I understand," said the colonel to his guest presently, when +conversation had lulled, "that you are a nephew of John Morgan. I did +not know that he had brothers or sisters——"</p> + +<p>"I am not really a nephew," said Morgan, quietly, "but a distant +relative and always taught to regard him as uncle." Something in his +voice made the young girl lift her eyes. His figure in the half-light +where he sat was immovable. Against the white column beyond, his head, +graceful in its outlines, was sharply silhouetted. It was bent slightly +forward; and while they remained upon the porch, ever at the sound of +his voice she would turn her eyes slowly and let them rest upon the +speaker. But she was silent.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>A BREATH FROM THE OLD SOUTH.</h3> + + +<p>The room in which Edward Morgan opened his eyes next morning was large +and the ceiling low. The posts of the bed ran up to within a foot of the +latter and supported a canopy. There was no carpet, the curtains were of +chintz and the lambrequins evidently home made. The few pictures on the +wall were portraits, in frames made of pine cones, with clusters of +young cones at the corners. There were home-made brackets, full of swamp +grasses. The bureau had two miniature Tuscan columns, between which was +hung a swivel glass. All was homely but clean and suggestive of a +woman's presence. And through the open windows there floated a delicious +atmosphere, fresh, cool and odorous, with the bloom-breath of tree and +shrub.</p> + +<p>He stepped out of bed and looked forth. For a mile ran the great fields +of cotton and corn, with here and there a cabin and its curl of smoke. A +flock of pigeons were walking about the barn doors, and a number of +goats waited at the side gate, which led into a broad back yard. In the +distance he could see negroes in the fields, hear their songs and the +"clank" of a little grist-mill in the valley.</p> + +<p>But sweeping all other sounds from mind, he heard also another musical +voice calling "Chick! chick! chickee, chickee!" and caught a glimpse of +fowls hurrying from every direction toward the back yard. He plunged his +head into a basin of cool water, and presently he was dressed.</p> + +<p>The front door was open, as it had remained all night, the chairs on the +porch, with here and there books and papers, when Edward Morgan walked +out. The yard was spacious and full of plants. Sunflowers and +poke-berries were growing along the front fence, and mocking birds, +cardinals and jays, their animosities suspended, were breakfasting side +by side. His walk carried him to the side of the house, and, looking +across the low picket fence, he saw Mary. Her sleeves were rolled up +above the elbows and her arms covered with dough from a great pan into +which, from time to time, she thrust a hand. A multitude of ducks, +chickens, turkeys and guineas scrambled about her, and a dozen white +pigeons struggled for standing-room upon her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"May I come in?" he called.</p> + +<p>"If you can stand it, Mr. Morgan." There was not the slightest +embarrassment; the brown eyes were frank and encouraging; he placed his +hands upon the fence and leaped lightly over.</p> + +<p>"What a family you have!" he said. She smiled, turning her face to him +as she scattered dough and gently pushed away the troublesome birds.</p> + +<p>"Many birds' mouths to fill; and they will have to fill some mouths too, +one of these days, poor things."</p> + +<p>"That is but fair."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so; but what a mission in life—just to fill somebody's +mouth."</p> + +<p>"The mission of many poor men and women I have seen," he said, "is +merely to fill mouths. And sometimes they get so poor they can't do +that."</p> + +<p>"And sometimes chickens get the same way," she said, sagely, at which +both laughed outright. Her face resumed its placid expression almost +instantly. "It must be sad to be very poor; how I wish they could +arrange for all of the poor people to come out here and find homes; +there seems to be so much land wasted."</p> + +<p>"They would not stay long anywhere away from the city," he said; "but do +you never sigh for city life?"</p> + +<p>"I prefer it," she replied, simply, "but we cannot afford it. And there +is no one to take care of this place. It is harder on Annie, brother's +wife. She simply detests the country. When I graduated—"</p> + +<p>"You graduated!" he exclaimed, almost incredulously. She looked at him +surprised.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am young, seventeen this month, but that is not extraordinary. +Mamma graduated at the same age, sixteen, forty years ago." A servant +approached, spoon in hand.</p> + +<p>"Want some more lard, missy." She took her bunch of keys, and selecting +one that looked like the bastile memento at Mount Vernon, unlocked the +smoke-house door and waited. "Half of that will do, Gincy," she said, +not looking around as she talked with Morgan, and the woman returned +half.</p> + +<p>"Now," she continued to him, "I must go see about the milking."</p> + +<p>"I will go, too, if you do not object! This is all new and enjoyable." +They came to where the women were at work. As they stood looking on, a +calf came up and stood by the girl's side, letting her rub its sensitive +ears. A little kid approached, too, and bleated.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Mollie," Mary asked, "has its mother come up yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. Spec' somep'n done cotch her!"</p> + +<p>"See if he will drink some cow's milk—give me the cup." She offered him +a little, and the hungry animal drank eagerly. "Let him stay in the yard +until he gets large enough to feed himself." Then turning to Morgan, +laughing, she said: "I expect you are hungry, too; I wonder why papa +does not come."</p> + +<p>"Is he up?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; he goes about early in the morning—there he comes now!" The +soldierly form of the old man was seen out among the pines. "Bring in +breakfast, Gincy," she called, and presently several negroes sped across +the yard, carrying smoking dishes into the cool basement dining-room. +Then the bell rang.</p> + +<p>At the top of the stairway Morgan had an opportunity to better see his +hostess. The lady was slender and moved with deliberation. Her gray hair +was brightened by eyes that seemed to swim with light and sympathy. The +dress was a black silk, old in fashion and texture, but there was real +lace at the throat and wrists, and a little lace headdress. She smiled +upon the young man and gave him her plump hand as he offered to assist +her.</p> + +<p>"I hope you slept well," she said; "no ghosts! That part of the house +you were in is said to be one hundred years old, and must be full of +memories."</p> + +<p>They stood for grace, and then Mary took her place behind the coffee pot +and served the delicious beverage in thin cups of china. The meal +consisted of broiled chicken, hot, light biscuits, bread of cornmeal, +and eggs that Morgan thought delicious, corn cakes, bacon and fine +butter. A little darky behind an enormous apron, but barefooted, stood +by the coffee pot and with a great brush of the gorgeous peacock +feathers kept the few flies off the tiny caster in the middle of the +table, while his eyes followed the conversation around. Presently there +was a clatter on the stairs and the little boy came down and climbed +into his high chair. He was barefooted and evidently ready for +breakfast, as he took a biscuit and bit it. The colonel looked severely +at him.</p> + +<p>"Put your biscuit down," he said, quietly but sternly, "and wait outside +now until the others are through. You came in after grace and you have +not said good-morning." The boy's countenance clouded and he began to +pick at his knife handle; the grandmother said, gently:</p> + +<p>"He'll not do it again, grandpa, and he is hungry, I know. Let him off +this time." Grandpa assumed a very severe expression as he replied, +promptly:</p> + +<p>"Very well, madam; let him say grace and stay, under those +circumstances." The company waited on him, he hesitated, swelled up as +if about to cry and said, earnestly: "Gimme somep'n to eat, for the +Lord's sake, amen." Grandma smiled benignly, but Mary and grandpa were +convulsed. Then other footfalls were heard on the stairs outside, as if +some one were coming down by placing the same foot in front each time. +Presently in walked a blue-eyed, golden-haired, barefooted girl of +three, who went straight to the colonel and held up her arms. He lifted +her and pressed the little cheek to his.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "here comes the Duchess." He gave her a plate next to +his, and taking her fork she ate demurely, from time to time watching +Morgan.</p> + +<p>"Papa ain't up yet," volunteered the boy. "He told mamma to throw his +clothes in the creek as he wouldn't have any more use for them—ain' +going to get up any more."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, does your eye hurt you?" said Mary, seeing the white hand for +the second time raised to her face.</p> + +<p>"A little. The same old pain."</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she explained to Morgan, "has lost the sight of one eye by +neuralgia, tho you would never suspect it. She still suffers dreadfully +at times from the same trouble."</p> + +<p>Presently the elder lady excused herself, the daughter watching her +anxiously as she slowly disappeared.</p> + +<p>It was nearly noon when Norton Montjoy and Edward Morgan reached the law +office of Ellison Eldridge. As they entered Morgan saw a clean-shaven +man of frank, open expression. Norton spoke:</p> + +<p>"Judge, this is Mr. Edward Morgan—you have corresponded with him." +Morgan felt the sudden penetrating look of the lawyer. Montjoy was +already saying au revoir and hastening out, waving off Edward's thanks +as he went.</p> + +<p>"Will see you later," he called back from the stairway, "and don't +forget your promise to the old folks."</p> + +<p>"You got my letter, Mr. Morgan? Please be seated."</p> + +<p>"Yes; three days since, in New York, through Fuller & Fuller. You have, +I believe, the will of the late John Morgan."</p> + +<p>"A copy of it. The will is already probated." He went to his safe and +returned with a document and a bunch of keys. "Shall I read it to you?"</p> + +<p>"If you please."</p> + +<p>The lawyer read, after the usual recitation that begins such documents, +as follows: "Do create, name and declare Edward Morgan of the city of +New York my lawful heir to all property, real and personal, of which I +may die possessed. And I hereby name as executor of this my last will +and testament, Ellison Eldridge of —— state afore-said, relieving said +Ellison Eldridge of bond as executor and giving him full power to wind +up my estate, pay all debts and settle with the heir as named, without +the order of or returns to any court, and for his services in this +connection a lien of $10,000 in his favor is hereby created upon said +estate, to be paid in full when the residue of property is transferred +to the said Edward Morgan," etc.</p> + +<p>"The property, aside from Ilexhurst, his late home," continued Judge +Eldridge, "consists of $630,000 in government bonds. These I have in a +safety-deposit company. I see the amount surprises you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the young man; "I am surprised by the amount." He gave +himself up to thought for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"The keys," said Eldridge, "he gave me a few days before his death, +stating that they were for you only, and that the desk in his room at +home, which they fitted, contained no property."</p> + +<p>"You knew Mr. Morgan well, I presume?" said the young man.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and no. I have seen him frequently for a great many years, but no +man knew him intimately. He was eccentric, but a fine lawyer and a very +able man. One day he came in here to execute this will and left it with +me. He referred to it again but once and that was when he came to bring +your address and photograph."</p> + +<p>"Was there—anything marked—or strange—in his life?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing beyond what I have outlined. He was a bachelor, and beyond an +occasional party to gentlemen in his house, when he spared no expense, +and regular attendance upon the theater, he had few amusements. He +inherited some money; the balance he accumulated in his practice and by +speculation, I suppose. The amount is several times larger than I +suspected. His one great vice was drink. He would get on his sprees two +or three times a year, but always at home. There he would shut himself +up and drink until his housekeeper called in the doctors." Morgan waited +in silence; there was nothing else and he rose abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Judge, we will wind up this matter in a few days. Here are your +letters, and John Morgan's to me, and letters from Fuller & Fuller, who +have known me for many years and have acted as agents for both Col. +Morgan and myself. If more proof is desired——"</p> + +<p>"These are sufficient. Your photograph is accurate. May I ask how you +are related to Col. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Distantly only. The fact is I am almost as nearly alone in the world as +he was. I must have your advice touching other matters. I shall return, +very likely, in the morning."</p> + +<p>Upon the street Edward Morgan walked as in a dream. Strange to say, the +information imparted to him had been depressing. He called a carriage.</p> + +<p>"Take me out to John Morgan's," he said, briefly.</p> + +<p>"De colonel's done dead, sah!"</p> + +<p>"I know, but the house is still there, is it not?"</p> + +<p>The driver conveyed the rebuke to his bony horse, in the shape of a +sharp lash, and secured a reasonably fair gait. Once or twice he +ventured observations upon the character of the deceased.</p> + +<p>"Col. Morgan's never asked nobody 'how much' when dey drive 'im; he des +fling down half er doller an' go long 'bout es business. Look to me, +young marster, like you sorter got de Morgan's eye. Is you kinned to +'im?"</p> + +<p>"I employed you to drive, not to talk," said Edward, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Dere now, dat's des what Col. Morgan say!"</p> + +<p>The negro gave vent to a little pacifying laugh and was silent. The +shadow on the young man's face was almost black when he got out of the +hack in front of the Morgan house and tossed the old negro a dollar.</p> + +<p>"Oom-hoo!" said that worthy, significantly. "Oo-hoo! What I tole you?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE MOTHER'S ROOM.</h3> + + +<p>The house before which Morgan stood overlooked the city two miles away +and was the center of a vast estate now run to weeds. It was a fine +example of the old style of southern architecture. The spacious roof, +embattled, but unbroken by gable or tower, was supported in front by +eight massive columns that were intended to be Ionic. The space between +them and the house constituted the veranda, and opening from the center +of the house upon this was a great doorway, flanked by windows. This +arrangement was repeated in the story above, a balcony taking the place +of the door. The veranda and columns were reproduced on both sides of +the house, running back to two one-story wings. The house was of slight +elevation and entered in front by six marble steps, flanked by carved +newel posts and curved rails; the front grounds were a hundred yards +wide and fifty deep, inclosed by a heavy railing of iron. These details +came to him afterward; he did not even see at that time the magnolias +and roses that grew in profusion, nor the once trim boxwood hedges and +once active fountain. He sounded loudly upon the front door with the +knocker.</p> + +<p>At length a woman came around the wing room and approached him. She was +middle-aged and wore a colored turban, a white apron hiding her dress. +The face was that of an octoroon; her figure tall and full of dignity. +She did not betray the mixed blood in speech or manner, but her form of +address proclaimed her at once a servant. The voice was low and musical +as she said, "Good-morning, sir," and waited.</p> + +<p>Morgan studied her in silence a moment; his steady glance seemed to +alarm her, for she drew back a step and placed her hand on the rail.</p> + +<p>"I want to see the people who have charge of this house," said the young +man. She now approached nearer and looked anxiously into his face.</p> + +<p>"I have the care of it," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, "I am Edward Morgan, the new owner. Let me have the +keys."</p> + +<p>"Edward Morgan!" She repeated the name unconsciously.</p> + +<p>"Come, my good woman, what is it? Where are the keys?" She bowed her +head. "I will get them for you, sir." She went to the rear again, and +presently the great doors swung apart and he entered.</p> + +<p>The hallway was wide and opened through massive folding doors into the +dining-room in the rear, and this dining-room, by means of other folding +doors, entering the wing-rooms, could be enlarged into a princely salon. +The hall floor was of marble and a heavy frieze and centerpiece +decorated walls and ceiling. A gilt chandelier hung from the center. +Antique oak chairs flanked this hallway, which boasted also a hatrack, +with looking-glass six feet wide. A semicircular stairway, guarded by a +carved oak rail, a newel post and a knight in armor, led to apartments +above. A musty odor pervaded the place.</p> + +<p>"Open the house," said Edward; "I must have better air."</p> + +<p>And while this was being done he passed through the rooms into which now +streamed light and fresh air. On the right was parlor and guest chamber, +the hangings and carpets unchanged in nearly half a century. On the left +was a more cheerful living-room, with piano and a rack of yellow sheet +music, and the library, with an enormous collection of books. There were +also cane furniture, floor matting and easy-chairs.</p> + +<p>In all these rooms spacious effects were not lessened by bric-a-brac and +collections. A few portraits and landscapes, a candelabra or two, a pair +of brass fire dogs, one or two large and exquisitely painted vases made +up the ornamental features. The dining-room proper differed in that its +furnishings were newer and more elaborate. The wing-rooms were evidently +intended for cards and billiards. Behind was the southern back porch +closed in with large green blinds. Over all was the chill of isolation +and disuse.</p> + +<p>Edward made his way upstairs among the sleeping apartments, full of old +and clumsy furniture, the bedding having been removed. Two rooms only +were of interest; to the right and rear a small apartment connected with +the larger one in front by a door then locked. This small room seemed to +have been a boy's. There were bows and arrows, an old muzzle-loading +gun, a boat paddle, a dip net, stag horns, some stuffed birds and small +animals, the latter sadly dilapidated, a few game pictures, boots, shoes +and spurs—even toys. A small bed ready for occupancy stood in one +corner and in another a little desk with drop lid. On the hearth were +iron fire dogs and ashes, the latter holding fragments of charred paper.</p> + +<p>For the first time since entering the house Edward felt a human +presence; it was a bright sunny room opening to the western breeze and +the berries of a friendly china tree tapped upon the window as he +approached it. He placed his hand upon the knob of the door, leading +forward, and tried to open it; it was locked.</p> + +<p>"That," said the woman's low voice, "is Col. Morgan's mother's room, +sir, and nobody ever goes in there. No one has entered that room but him +since she died, I reckon more than forty years ago."</p> + +<p>Edward had started violently; he turned to find the sad, changeless face +of the octoroon at his side.</p> + +<p>"And this room?"</p> + +<p>"There is where he lived all his life—from the time he was a boy until +he died."</p> + +<p>Edward took from his pocket the bunch of keys and applied the largest to +the lock of the unopened door; the bolt turned easily. As he crossed the +threshold a thrill went through him; he seemed to trespass. Here had the +boy grown up by his mother, here had been his retreat at all times. When +she passed away it was the one spot that kept fresh the heart of the +great criminal lawyer, who fought the outside world so fiercely and +well. Edward had never known a mother's room, but the scene appealed to +him, and for the first time he felt kinship with the man who preceded +him, who was never anything but a boy here in these two rooms. Even when +he lay dead, back there in that simple bed, over which many a night his +mother must have leaned to press her kisses upon his brow, he was a boy +grown old and lonely.</p> + +<p>One day she had died in this front room! What an agony of grief must +have torn the boy left behind. In the dim light of the room he had +opened, objects began to appear; almost reverently Edward raised a +window and pushed open the shutters. Behind him stood ready for +occupancy a snowy bed, with pillows and linen as fresh seemingly as if +placed there at morn. By the bedside was a pair of small worn slippers, +a rocking chair stood by the east window, and by the chair was a little +sewing stand, with a boy's jacket lying near, and threaded needle thrust +into its texture. On the little center table was a well-worn Bible by a +small brass lamp, and a single painting hung upon the wall—that of a +little farmhouse at the foot of a hill, with a girl in frock and poke +bonnet swinging upon its gate.</p> + +<p>There was no carpet on the floor; only two small rugs. It had been the +home of a girl simply raised and grown to womanhood, and her simplicity +had been repeated in her boy. The great house had been the design of her +husband, but there in these two rooms mother and son found the charm of +a bygone life, delighting in those "vague feelings" which science cannot +fathom, but which simpler minds accept as the whispering of heredity.</p> + +<p>One article only remained unexamined. It was a small picture in a frame +that rested upon the mantel and in front of which was draped a velvet +cloth. Morgan as in a dream drew aside the screen and saw the face of a +wondrously beautiful girl, whose eyes rested pensively upon him. A low +cry escaped the octoroon, who had noiselessly followed him; she was +nodding her head and muttering, all unconscious of his presence. When +she saw at length his face turned in wonder upon her she glided +noiselessly from the room. He replaced the cloth, closed the window +again and tiptoed out, locking the door behind him.</p> + +<p>He found the octoroon downstairs upon the back steps. She was now calm +and answered his questions clearly. She had not belonged to John Morgan, +she said, but had always been a free woman. Her husband had been free, +too, but had died early. She had come to keep house at Ilexhurst many +years ago, before the war, and had been there always since, caring for +everything while Mr. Morgan was in the army, and afterward; when he was +away from time to time. No, she did not know anything of the girl in the +picture; she had heard it said that he was once to have married a lady, +but she married somebody else and that was the end of it. John Morgan +had kept the room as it was. No, he was never married. He had no cousins +or kinfolks that she had heard of except a sister who died, and her two +sons had been killed in battle or lost at sea during the war. Neither of +them was married; she was certain of that. She herself cooked and kept +house, and Ben, a hired boy, attended to the rest and acted as butler.</p> + +<p>Edward was recalled to the present by feeling her eyes fixed upon him. +He caught but one fleeting glance at her face before it was averted; it +had grown young, almost beautiful, and the eyes were moistened and +tender and sad. He turned away abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I will occupy an upper room to-night," he said, "and will send new +furniture to-morrow." His baggage had come and he went back with the +express to the city. He would return, he said, after supper.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the mind, after a long strain imposed upon it, relieves itself +by a refusal to consider. So with Edward Morgan's. That night he stood +by his window and watched the lessening moon rise over the eastern +hills. But he seemed to stand by a low picket fence beyond which a girl, +with bare arms, was feeding poultry. He felt again the power of her +frank, brown eyes as they rested upon him, and heard her voice, musical +in the morning air, as it summoned her flock to breakfast.</p> + +<p>In New York, Paris and Italy, and here there in other lands, were a few +who called him friend; it would be better to wind up his affairs and go +to them. It did not seem possible that he could endure this new life. +Already the buoyancy of youth was gone! His ties were all abroad.</p> + +<p>Thoughts of Paris connected him with a favorite air. He went to his +baggage and unpacked an old violin, and sitting in the window, he played +as a master hand had taught him and an innate genius impelled. It was +Schubert's serenade, and as he played the room was no longer lonely; +sympathy had brought him friends. It seemed to him that among them came +a woman who laid her hand on his shoulder and smiled on him. Her face +was hidden, but her touch was there, living and vibrant. On his cheek +above the mellow instrument he felt his own tears begin to creep and +then—silence. But as he stood calmer, looking down into the night, a +movement in the shrubbery attracted him back to earth; he called aloud:</p> + +<p>"Who is there?" A pause and the tall figure of the octoroon crossed the +white walk.</p> + +<p>"Rita," was the answer. "The gate was left open."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>THE STRANGER IN THE LIBRARY.</h3> + + +<p>Edward was up early and abroad for exercise. Despite his gloom he had +slept fairly well and had awakened but once. But that once! He could not +rid himself of the memory of the little picture and it had served him a +queer trick. He had simply found himself lying with open eyes and +staring at the woman herself; it was the same face, but now anxious and +harassed. He was not superstitious and this was clearly an illusion; he +rubbed his eyes deliberately and looked again. The figure had +disappeared. But the mind that entertains such fancies needs +something—ozone and exercise, he thought; and so he covered the hills +with his rapid pace and found himself an hour later in the city and with +an appetite.</p> + +<p>The day passed in the arrangement of those minor requirements when large +estates descend to new owners. There was an accounting, an examination +of records. Judge Eldridge gave him assistance everywhere, but there was +no time for private and past histories. In passing he dropped in at +Barksdale's office and left a card.</p> + +<p>One of the distinctly marked features of the day was his meeting with a +lawyer, Amos Royson by name. This man held a druggist's claim of several +hundred dollars against the estate of John Morgan for articles purchased +by Rita Morgan, the charges made upon verbal authority from the +deceased. John Morgan had been absent many months just previous to his +death and the account had not been presented.</p> + +<p>Edward was surprised to find, upon entering this office, that the lawyer +was the man who had collided with Montjoy's horse the night before. +Royson saluted him coldly but politely and produced the account already +sworn to and ready for filing. It had been withheld at Eldridge's +request. As Edward ran his eye over the list he saw that chemicals had +been bought at wholesale, and with them had been sent one or two +expensive articles belonging to a chemical laboratory. Just what use +Rita Morgan might have for such things he could not imagine. He was +about to say that he would inquire into the account when he saw that +Royson, with a sardonic smile upon his face, was watching him. He had a +distinct impression that antipathy to the man was stirring within him; +he was about to pay the account and rid himself of the necessity of any +further dealings with the man, when, angered by the impudent, irritating +manner, he decided otherwise.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever shown this account to Rita Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!"</p> + +<p>"And she pronounced it correct, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"She did not examine it; she said that you would pay it now that John +Morgan is dead."</p> + +<p>"If the account is a just charge upon the Morgan estate I certainly +will," said Morgan, pocketing the written statement.</p> + +<p>"I think after you examine into the matter it will be paid," said +Royson, confidently. Edward thought long upon the man's manner and the +circumstance, but could make nothing out of them. He would see Rita, and +with that resolution he let the incident pass from his mind.</p> + +<p>The shadows were falling when he returned to take his first meal in his +new home. He descended to the dining-room to find it lighted by the +fifty or more jets in the large gilt chandeliers. The apartment +literally blazed with light. The sensation under the circumstances was +agreeable, and in better spirits he took the single seat provided. Here, +as afterward ascertained, had been the lawyer's one point of contact +with the social world, and it was here that he had been accustomed, at +intervals varying from weeks to years, to entertain his city +acquaintances.</p> + +<p>The room was not American but continental from its Louvre ceiling of +white and gold to its niched half life-size statuary and pictures of +fishing and hunting scenes in gilded frames. But the foreign effects +ended in this room. Outside all else was American.</p> + +<p>Edward was silently served by the butler and was pleased to find his +dinner first class in every respect. Then came a box of choice cigars +upon a silver tray.</p> + +<p>Passing into the library, he seated himself by the reading light near +the little side table where a leather chair had been placed, and sought +diversion in the papers; but, alas, the European finds but little of +home affairs in one parliament, a regatta, a horse race, a German-army +review, a social sensation—these were all.</p> + +<p>He turned from the papers; the truth is the one great overwhelming fact +at that moment was that he, a wanderer all of his life, without family +or parents, or knowledge of them, had suddenly been transplanted among a +strange people and made the master of a household and a vast fortune. On +this occasion, as ever since entering the house, he could not rid +himself of a suggestion so indefinite as to belong to the region of +subconsciousness that he was an interloper, an inferior, and that +jealous, unseen eyes were watching him. The room seemed haunted by an +unutterable protest. He was not aware then that this is a peculiarity of +all old houses.</p> + +<p>Something like an oppression seized upon him and he was wondering if +this should continue, would it be possible for him to endure the +situation long? Upstairs was the little desk, the keys to which he held, +and in it information that would lay bare the secret of his life and +reveal the mystery of years ago; which would give him the same chance +for happiness that other men have. All that was left now for him to do +was to ascend the stairs, open the desk and read. He had put it off for +a quiet and convenient moment, and that time had come.</p> + +<p>But what was contained in that desk? He remembered Hamlet and understood +his doubts for the first time. It was the gravity of this doubt, the +weight of the revelation to come that caused him to smoke on, cigar +after cigar, in silence. It flashed upon him that it might be wiser to +take his fortune and return to Europe as he was. But as he smoked his +mind rejected the suggestion as cowardly.</p> + +<p>It was at this stage in his reverie that Edward Morgan received the +severest shock of his life. Without having noticed any sound or +movement, he presently became conscious that some one besides himself +was in the room, and instantly, almost, his eyes rested on a man +standing before the open bookcase. It was a figure, slender and tall, +clad in light, well-worn trousers, and short smoking jacket. The face +turned from him was lifted toward the shelves, and long black hair fell +in shining masses upon his shoulders. The right hand extended upward, +touching first one, then another of the volumes as it searched along the +line, was white as paraffine and slender as a girl's and a fold of +linen, edged with lace, lay upon the wrists. All the other details of +the figure were lost in the shadow. While thus Edward sat, his brain +whirling and eyes riveted upon the strange figure, the visitor paused in +his search as if in doubt, turned his profile and listened, then faced +about suddenly and the two men gazed into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>Edward had gained his first full view of the visitor's face. Had it been +withdrawn from him in an instant he could at any time thereafter have +reproduced it in every line, so vividly was it impressed upon his +memory. It was new, and yet strangely, dimly, vaguely familiar! It was +oval, pale and lighted by eyes with enormously distended pupils. It +seemed to him that they were not mirrors at that moment, but +scintillating lights burning within their cavities.</p> + +<p>But the first effect, startling though it was, passed away immediately; +nothing could have withstood the gentle pleading entreaty that lurked in +all the face lines; an expression childish and girlish. The stranger +gazed for a moment only on the man sitting bolt upright now in his +chair, his hands clutching the arms, and then went quickly forward.</p> + +<p>"You are Edward Morgan?" he said, encouragingly. "My uncle told me you +would come some day." The deep, indrawn breath that had made the new +master's figure rigid for the moment escaped back slowly between the +parted lips. He was ashamed that he should have been so startled.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, presently, "I am Edward Morgan. And you are——"</p> + +<p>"Gerald Morgan. But I must say good-bye now. I have a matter of upmost +importance to conclude." He smiled again, returned to the shelves and +this time without hesitation selected a volume and passed out toward the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>A faint odor of burning material attracted Edward's attention. He looked +for his cigar; it lay upon the matting, in a circle as large as his hat. +He must have sat there watching the door for fifteen minutes after the +singular visitor had passed through. He stamped out the creeping circle +of fire and rang the bell. The octoroon entered and stood waiting, her +eyes cast down.</p> + +<p>"A young man came here a few minutes since and went out through that +door," said he, with difficulty suppressing his excitement: "who is he?"</p> + +<p>She looked to him astonished.</p> + +<p>"Why, that was Mr. Gerald, sir. Don't you know of him? Mr. Gerald +Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely nothing. I have never seen him before nor heard of him—no +mention of him has been made in my presence." The woman was clearly +amazed.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible! Your uncle never wrote you about Gerald Morgan—the +lawyers have never told you?"</p> + +<p>"No one has told me, I say; the man is as new to me as if he had dropped +from the clouds."</p> + +<p>She thought a moment. "He must have left papers——"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Edward, starting suddenly; "I have not read the papers! +I see! I see!"</p> + +<p>"You will find it there," she said, relieved. "I thought you knew +already. It did not occur to me to tell you about him, sir! We have +grown used to not speaking of him. He never goes out anywhere now." +Edward was puzzled and then an explanation flashed upon him.</p> + +<p>"He is insane!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir! But he has always been delicate—not like other children; +and then the medicine they gave him when he had the pains and was a +baby—he has been obliged to keep it up. It is the morphine and opium, +sir, that has changed him." Edward nodded his head; the explanation was +sufficient.</p> + +<p>"He has lived here a long time, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. He smokes and reads and paints and does many curious things, +but he never goes out. Sometimes he walks about the place, but generally +at night; and once or twice in the last ten years he has gone down-town, +but it excites him too much and he is apt to die away."</p> + +<p>"Die away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; the attacks come on him at any time, and so we let him live +on as he wants to and no one sees him. He cannot bear strangers, but he +is not insane, sir. One trouble is, he knows more than his head can +hold—he studies too much." She said this very tenderly and her voice +trembled a little as she finished and turned her face to work nervously.</p> + +<p>"You have not told me who he is."</p> + +<p>"I do not know, sir," and then she added: "He was a baby when I came, +and I have done my best by him." She did not meet his eyes. Her +suffering and embarrassment touched Edward.</p> + +<p>"I will read the papers," he said, gently; "they will tell me all." +Taking this as a dismissal the woman withdrew.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>"WHO SAYS THERE CAN BE A 'TOO LATE' FOR THE IMMORTAL MIND?"</h3> + + +<p>Something like fear, a superstitious fear, arose in Edwards' heart as he +turned down the lid of the old-fashioned desk in the little room +upstairs and saw the few papers pigeon-holed there with lawyer-like +precision. On the top lay a long envelope sealed and bearing his name. +His hand shook as he held it and studied the chirography. The moment was +one to which he had looked forward for a lifetime and should contain the +explanation of the singular mystery that had environed him from infancy.</p> + +<p>As he held the letter, hesitating over the final act, his life passed in +review as, it is said, do the lives of drowning persons. The thought +that Edward Morgan was dying came in that connection. The orphan, the +lonely college boy, the wandering youth, the bohemian of a dozen +continental capitals, the musician and half-way metaphysicist and +theosophist, the unformed man of an unformed age, new sphere, one of +quick, earnest, feverish action, the new man, was to spring armed, or +hampered by—what? At that moment, by a strange revulsion, the life that +he had worn so hardly, so bitterly, even its sadness seemed dear and +beautiful. After all it had been a life of ease and many scenes. It had +no responsibilities—now it would pass! He tore open the envelope +impatiently and read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Edward Morgan—Sir: When this letter comes to your knowledge +you will have been acquainted with the fact that my will has +made you heir to all my property, without legacy or +restriction. That document was made brief and simple, partly to +avoid complications, and partly to conceal facts with which the +public has no reasonable interest. I now, assured of your +character in every particular, desire that you retain during +the lifetime of Gerald Morgan the residence which has always +been his home, providing for his wants and pleasures freely as +I have done and leaving him undisturbed in the manner of his +life. I direct, further, that you extend the same care and +kindness to Rita Morgan, my housekeeper, seeing that she is not +disturbed in her home and the manner of her life. My object is +to guard the welfare of the only people intimately connected +with me by ties of friendship and association, whom I have not +already provided for. Carrying out this intention, you will as +soon as possible, after coming into possession, take +precautions looking to the future of Gerald Morgan and Rita +Morgan, my housekeeper, in the event of your own death; and the +plan to be selected in this connection I leave to your own good +sense and judgment, only suggesting as adviser for you Ellison +Eldridge, one of the few lawyers living whose heart is outside +of his pocketbook, and whose discretion is perfect.</p> + +<p>"John Morgan."</p></blockquote> + +<p>That was all.</p> + +<p>The young man, dumfounded, turned over the single sheet of paper that +contained the whole message, examined again the envelope, read and +reread the communication, and finally laid it aside. Not one word of +explanation of his own (Edward's) existence no claim of relationship, no +message of sympathy, only the curt voice of an eccentric old man, +echoing beyond the black wall of mystery and already sunk into eternal +silence. The old life no longer seemed dear or beautiful. It returned +upon him with the dull weight of oppression he had known so long. It was +a bitter ending, a crushing, overwhelming disappointment.</p> + +<p>He smiled at length and lighted another cigar. His mind reverted to the +singular character whose final expression lay upon the desk. His last +act had been to guard against the curious, and that had included the +beneficiary. He had succeeded in living a mystery, in dying a mystery, +and in covering up his past with a mystery.</p> + +<p>"It was well done." Such was Edward's reflection spoken aloud. He +recalled the lines: "I now, assured of your character in every +particular." Every word in that laconic letter, as also every word in +the few communications made to him in life by this man, meant something. +What did these mean? "Assured" by whom? Who had spied upon his actions +and kept watch over him to such an extent as would justify the sweeping +confidences? But he knew that the testator had read him right. A faint +wave of pleasure flushed his cheek and warmed his heart when he realized +the full significance of this tribute to his true character. He no +longer felt like an intruder.</p> + +<p>And yet, "assured" by whom? And who was Gerald Morgan? Not a relative or +he would have said so; he would have said "my nephew, Gerald Morgan." +The same argument shut him (Edward) out. Why this suspicious absence of +relationship terms?—and they, both of them, Morgans and heirs to his +wealth?</p> + +<p>Again he dragged the papers from the desk and ran them over. Manuscripts +all, they contained detached accounts of widely separated people and +incidents, and moreover they were clearly briefed. "A Dramatic Trail," +"The Storm," "A Midnight Struggle," etc. They had no bearing upon his +life; they were the unpublished literary remains of John Morgan.</p> + +<p>Every paper lay exposed; the mine was exhausted. He again read the +letter slowly, idly lifted each paper and returned all to the desk.</p> + +<p>The cigar was out again; he tossed it from the window, locked the desk +and passed into the mother's room. The action was without forethought, +but his new philosophy had taught him the value of instinctive human +actions as index fingers. What cause then had drawn him into that +long-deserted room? As he reflected, his eyes rested upon the picture of +the girl in the little frame on the mantel. He started back, amazed and +overwhelmed. It was the face that had been turned to him in the +library—the face of Gerald Morgan!</p> + +<p>Edward was surprised to find himself standing by the open window when he +had exhausted the train of thought that the recognition put in motion, +and counting his heart-beats, ninety to the minute. By that curious +power or weakness of certain minds his thoughts ran entirely from the +matter in hand along the lines of a lecture his friend Virdow as Jean +had delivered, the theory of which was that organic heart disease, +unless fastened to its victim by inheritance, is always a mental result. +If a mere thought or combination of thoughts could excite, a thought +could depress. It was plain; he would write to Virdow confirming his +theory.</p> + +<p>Then he became conscious that the moon hung like a plate of silver in +the vast sky space of the east and that her light was flashed back by +many little points in the city beneath him—a gilt ball, a vane, a set +of window glasses, and the dew-wet slates of a modern roof. One white +spot was visible in the yard in front, white and pale as the moon when +the vapor had dispersed but set immovably. As he idly sought to unravel +its little secret, it simply became a part of the shadow and invisible, +but he felt that some one was looking up at him; and suddenly he saw the +slender figure of a man pass, cross the gravel walk and vanish in the +shrubbery on the left.</p> + +<p>Edward did not cry out; he stood musing upon the fact, and lo, there +came a glitter of rosy light along the horizon; the moon had vanished +overhead, and sound arose in confused murmurs from the dull heaps of +houses in the valley. He saw again at the moment, over the eastern +hills, the face of a girl as she stood calling her pets, and felt her +eyes upon him.</p> + +<p>When he awoke that day he found the sun far beyond the zenith and he lay +revolving in his mind the events of the night; to his surprise much of +the weight was gone and in its place was interest, the like of which he +had never before known. An object in life had suddenly been developed +and instinctively he felt that the study of this new mystery would lead +to a knowledge of himself and his past.</p> + +<p>The first thing to be done was to again see the stranger who had invaded +his library, and carry his investigation as far as this person would +permit. This in mind, he dressed himself with care and descended into +the dining-room. In a few moments his breakfast was served. Upon hearing +his inquiry for Rita, Ben, the butler, retired and presently the woman, +grave, and after a few words quiet, took his place. Before speaking +Edward noticed her closely again. About fifty years of age, perhaps +less, she stood as erect and rigid as an Indian, her black hair without +a kink. There was an easy dignity in her attitude, hardly the pose of a +slave, or one who had been. But in her face was the sadness of personal +suffering, and in her voice a tone he had noticed at first, an echo of +some depressing experience, it seemed to him.</p> + +<p>Where was Gerald's room? There! He had not noticed the door; it led out +from the dining-room. It was the wing intended for billiards, but now +the retreat of her poor young master and had been all his life. He did +not like to be disturbed, but perhaps the circumstances would make a +difference.</p> + +<p>Edward knocked on the door. Receiving no answer, he opened it +hesitatingly and looked in. Then he entered. Gerald greeted him with an +encouraging smile and closing the door behind him, he viewed the +interior with interest. The walls were hung with pictures, swords, guns, +pistols and other weapons, and between them on every available spot were +books, books, books and periodicals. A broad center table held writing +materials and manuscripts, and upon a long table by two open windows +were bottles of many colors and all the queer paraphernalia of a +chemical laboratory. Against the opposite wall was a spacious divan, and +seated upon it, wrapped in a singular-looking dressing-gown, fez upon +his head and smoking a shibouk as he read, was the strange being for +whom Edward searched.</p> + +<p>"I was expecting you," the young man said; "where have you been?" The +naturalness of the words confused the visitor for a moment. No seat had +been offered him, but he drew one near the divan.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may smoke?" he said, smiling, ignoring the query, but the +intent look of Gerald caused him to add: "I slept late; how did you +rest?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said Gerald, his expression changing, "strange as it may +seem, I have seen you before, but where, where——" The long lashes +dropped above the eyes; he shook his head sadly, "but where, no man may +say."</p> + +<p>"It hardly seems possible," said Edward, gravely. "I have never been +here before, and you, I believe, have never been absent."</p> + +<p>"So they say; so they say. Mere old-nurse talk! I have been to many +places." Edward turned his head in sadness. Man or woman the person was +crazy. He looked again; it was the face of the girl in the picture +frame, grown older, with time and suffering.</p> + +<p>"It is an odd room," he said, presently; "do you sleep here?"</p> + +<p>Gerald nodded to the other door.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to see? Enter."</p> + +<p>To Edward's amazement he found himself in a conservatory, a glass house +about forty by twenty feet, arranged for sliding curtains at sides and +top. There was little to be seen besides a small bed and necessary +furniture. But an easel stood near the center and on it a canvas ready +for painting. In a corner was a large portfolio for drawings, closed.</p> + +<p>"I cannot sleep unless I see the stars," said Gerald, joining him. "And +there is an entrance to the grounds!" He threw open a glass door, +exposing an oleander avenue. "This is my favorite walk." The scene +seemed to strike him anew. He stood there lost in thought a moment and +returned to his divan. Edward found him absorbed in a volume. He had +studied him there long and keenly and reached a conclusion that would, +he felt, be of value in his future associations with this eccentric +mind; it was a mind reversed, living in abstract thought. Its visions of +real life were only glimpses. Therefore, he reasoned, to keep company +with such a mind, one must be prepared for its eccentricities and avoid +discord.</p> + +<p>It was a keen diagnosis and he acted upon it. He went about noiselessly +examining the furnishings of the room without further speech. The young +man was writing as he passed him. Looking over his shoulder, Edward read +a few lines of what was evidently a thesis;</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The mind can therefore have no conscious memory. Memory being +a function of the brain and physical structure, and mind being +endowed with a capacity for wandering, it follows that it can +bring back no record of its experience since no memory function +went with it. It may, indeed, be true that the mind can itself +be shaped and biased anew by its detached experiences, but who +can ever read its history backwards? Unless somewhere arises a +mind brilliant enough to find the alphabet, to connect the +mind's hidden storehouse with consciousness, the mystery of +mind—life (that is, higher dream life)—must remain forever +unread."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"It has been found," said Edward, as though Gerald had stated a +proposition aloud.</p> + +<p>"How? Where?" Gerald did not look up, but merely ceased writing a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Music is the connecting link. Music is the language of the mind. +Vibration is the secret of creation and along its lines will all secrets +be revealed." The book closed slowly in the reader's hands, his thesis +slipped to the floor. He sat in deep thought. Then a light gleamed in +his face and eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is true," he said, with agitation, as he arose. "It is a great +thought; a great discovery. I must learn once" and Rita stood waiting. +"Bring me musical instruments—what?" He turned impatiently to Edward. +The latter shook his head.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a lifetime study," he said, sadly, "and then—failure. No man has +yet reached the end."</p> + +<p>"I will reach it."</p> + +<p>"It calls for labor day and night—for talent—for teachers."</p> + +<p>"I will have all."</p> + +<p>"It calls for youth, for a mind young and fresh and responsive. You are +old in mind. It is too late."</p> + +<p>"Too late. Too late. Never, never, never too late. Who says there can be +a 'too late' for the immortal mind? I will begin. I will labor! I will +succeed! If not in this life, then in the next, or the next; aye, at the +foot of Buddha, if need be, I will press to read all to the strains of +music. Oh, blind! Blind! Blind!" He strode about the room in an ecstasy +of excitement.</p> + +<p>"Prove to me it is too late here," shrieked the unhappy being, "and I +will end this existence; will go back a thousand cycles, if necessary, +carrying with me the impression of this truth, and begin, an infant, to +lisp in numbers."</p> + +<p>He had snatched a poniard from the wall and was gesticulating +frantically. Edward was about to speak when he saw the enthusiast's eyes +lose their frenzy and fix upon the woman's. He dropped the weapon and +plunged face downward in despair among the pillows. Like a statue the +woman stood gazing upon him.</p> + +<p>"My violin," said Edward. She disappeared noiselessly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>"BACK! WOULD YOU MURDER HER?"</h3> + + +<p>When Edward Morgan went to Europe from Columbia college it was in +obedience to a mandate of John Morgan through the New York lawyers. He +went, began there the life of a bohemian. Introduced by a chance +acquaintance, he fell in first with the art circles of Paris, and, +having a fancy and decided talent for painting, he betook himself +seriously to study. But the same shadow, the same need of an +overpowering motive, pursued him. With hope and ambition he might have +become known to fame. As it was, his mind drifted into subtleties and +the demon change came again. He closed his easel. Rome, Athens, +Constantinople, the occident, all knew him, gave him brief welcome and +quick farewells.</p> + +<p>The years were passing; as he had gone from idleness to art, from art to +history, and from history to archaeology by easy steps, so he passed +now, successively to religion, to philosophy, and to its last broad +exponent, theosophy.</p> + +<p>The severity of this last creed fitted the crucifixion of his spirit. +Its contemplation showed him vacancies in his education and so he went +to Jena for additional study. This decision was reached mainly through +the suggestion of a chance acquaintance named Abingdon, who had come +into his life during his first summer on the continent. They met so +often that the face of this man had became familiar, and one day, glad +to hear his native tongue, he addressed him and was not repelled.</p> + +<p>Abingdon gave to Edward Morgan his confidence; it was not important; a +barrister in an English interior town, he crossed the channel annually +for ramble in the by-ways of Europe. It had been his unbroken habit for +many years.</p> + +<p>From this time the two men met often and journeyed much together, the +elder seeming to find a pleasure in the gravity and earnestness of the +young man, and he in turn a relief in the nervous, jerky lawyer, looking +always through small, half-closed eyes and full of keen conceptions. And +when apart, occasionally he would get a characteristic note from +Abingdon and send a letter in reply. He had so much spare time.</p> + +<p>This man had once surprised him with the remark:</p> + +<p>"If I were twenty years younger I would go to Jena and study vibration. +It is the greatest force of the universe. It is the secret of creation." +The more Edward dwelt upon this remark, in connection with modern +results and invention, the more he was struck with it. Why go to Jena to +study vibration was something that he could not fathom, nor in all +probability could Abingdon. America was really the advanced line of +discovery, but nevertheless he went, and with important results; and +there in the old town, finding the new hobby so intimately connected +with music, to which he was passionately devoted, he took up with +renewed energy his neglected violin. With feverish toil he struggled +along the border land of study and speculation, until he felt that there +was nothing more possible for him—in Jena.</p> + +<p>In Jena his solitary friend had been the eminent Virdow and to him he +became an almost inseparable companion.</p> + +<p>The confidence and speculations of Virdow, extending far beyond the +limits of a lecture stand, carried Edward into dazzling fields. The +intercourse extended through the best part of several years. On leaving +Jena he was armed with a knowledge of the possibilities of the vast +field he had entered upon, with a knowledge of thorough bass and +harmony, and with a technique that might have made him famous had he +applied his knowledge. He did not apply it!</p> + +<p>His final stand had been Paris. Abingdon was there. Abingdon had +discovered a genius and carried Edward to see him. He had been passing +through an obscure quarter when he was attracted by the singular pathos +of a violin played in a garret. To use his expression, "the music +glorified the miserable street." Everybody there knew Benoni, the blind +violinist. And to this man, awed and silent, came Edward, a listener.</p> + +<p>No words can express the meaning that lay in the blind man's +improvisations; only music could contain them. And only one man in Paris +could answer! When having heard the heart language, the heart history +and cravings of the player expressed in the solitude of that +half-lighted garret, Edward took the antique instrument and replied, the +answer was overwhelming. The blind man understood; he threw his arms +about the player and embraced him.</p> + +<p>"Grand!" he cried. "A master plays, but it is incomplete; the final note +has not come; the harmony died where it should have become immortal!" +And Edward knew it.</p> + +<p>From that meeting sprang a warm friendship, the most complete that +Morgan had ever known! It made the old man comfortable, gained him +better quarters and broadened the horizon toward which his sun of life +was setting. It would go down with some of the colors of its morning.</p> + +<p>It became Edward's custom to take his old friend to hear the best operas +and concerts, and one night they heard the immortal Cambia sing. It was +a charity concert and her first appearance in many years.</p> + +<p>When the idol of the older Paris came to the footlights for the sixth +time to bow her thanks for the ovation given her, she smiled and sang in +German a love song, indescribable in its passion and tenderness. It was +a burst of melody from the heart of some man, great one moment in his +life at least. Edward found himself standing when the tumult ceased. +Benoni had sunk from his chair to his knees and was but half-conscious. +The excitement had partially paralyzed him. The lithe fingers of the +left hand were dead. They would never rest again upon the strings of his +great violin—the Cremona to which in sickness and poverty, although its +sale would have enriched him, he clung with the faith and instinct of +the artist.</p> + +<p>There came the day when Edward was ready to depart to America. He went +to say good-bye, and this is what happened: The old man held Edward's +hands long in silence, but his lips moved in prayer; then lifting the +instrument, he placed it in the young man's arms.</p> + +<p>"Take it," he said. "I may never meet you again. It is the one thing +that I have been true to all my life. I will not leave it to the base +and heartless." And so Edward, to please him, accepted the trust. He +would return some day; many hours should the violin sing for the old +man. As he stood he drew the bow and played one strain of Cambia's song +and the blind man lifted his face in sudden excitement. As Edward paused +he called the notes until it was complete. "Now again," he said, +singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou couldst love me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I do love thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then wouldst thou come to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never forsaking me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never, oh, never<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsaking me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oceans may roll between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine home and thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, if thou lovest me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovest me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What care we, you and I?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all eternity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love thee, darling one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love me; love me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"You have found the secret," said Benoni; "the chords on the lower +octaves made the song."</p> + +<p>And so they had parted! The blind man to wait for the final summons; the +young man to plunge into complications beyond his wildest dreams.</p> + +<p>"A man," said Virdow once, "is a tribe made up of himself, his family +and his friends." And this was the history in outline of the man to whom +Rita Morgan handed the violin that fateful day when Gerald lay face down +among the pillows of his divan.</p> + +<p>Recognizing in the delicate and excitable organism before him the +possibilities of emotion and imagination, Edward prepared to play. +Without hesitation he drew the bow across the strings and began a solemn +prelude to a choral. And as he played he noticed the heaving form below +him grow still. Then Gerald lifted his face and gazed past the player, +with an intensity of vision that deepened until he seemed in the grasp +of some stupendous power or emotion. Edward played the recital; the +story of Calvary, the crucifixion and the mourning women, and the march +of soldiers. Finally there came the tumult of bursting storm and riven +tombs. The climax of action occurred there; it was to die away into a +movement fitted to the resurrection and the peaceful holiness of +Christ's meeting with Mary. But before this latter movement began Gerald +leaped upon the player with the quickness and fury of a tiger and by the +suddenness of the onset nearly bore him to the floor. This mad assault +was accompanied by a shriek of mingled fear and horror.</p> + +<p>"Back—would you murder her?" By a great effort Edward freed himself and +the endangered violin, and forced the assailant to the divan. The +octoroon was kneeling by his side weeping.</p> + +<p>"Leave him to me," she said. Stunned and inexpressibly shocked Edward +withdrew. The grasp on his throat had been like steel! The marks +remained.</p> + +<p>"I have," he wrote that night in a letter to Virdow, "heard you more +than once express the hope that you would some day be able to visit +America. Come now, at once! I have here entered upon a new life and need +your help. Further, I believe I can help you."</p> + +<p>After describing the circumstances already related, the letter +continued: "The susceptibility of this mind to music I regard as one of +the most startling experiences I have ever known, and it will afford you +an opportunity for testing your theories under circumstances you can +never hope for again. Let me say to you here that I am now convinced by +some intuitive knowledge that the assault upon me was based upon a +memory stirred by the sound of the violin; that vibration created anew +in the delicate mind some picture that had been forgotten and brought +back again painful emotions that were ungovernable. I cannot think but +that it is to have a bearing upon the concealed facts of my life; the +discovery of which is my greatest object now, as in the past. And I +cannot but believe that your advice and discretion will guide me in the +treatment and care of this poor being, perhaps to the extent of +affecting a radical change, and leave him a happier and a more rational +being.</p> + +<p>"Come to me, my friend, at once! I am troubled and perplexed. And do not +be offended that I have inclosed exchange for an amount large enough to +cover expenses. I am now rich beyond the comprehension of your +economical German mind, and surely I may be allowed, in the interests of +science, of my ward and myself to spend from the abundant store. I look +for you early. In the meantime, I will be careful in my experiments. +Come at once! <i>The mind has an independent memory and you can +demonstrate it.</i>"</p> + +<p>Edward knew that there was more on that concluding sentence than in the +rest of the letter and exchange combined, and half-believing it, he +stated it as a prophecy. He was preparing to retire, when it occurred to +him that the strange occupant of the wing-room might need his attention. +Something like affection had sprung up in his heart for the unfortunate +being who, with chains heavier than his own, had missed the diversion of +new scenes, the broadening, the soothing of great landscapes and +boundless oceans. A pity moved him to descend and to knock at the door. +There was no answer. He entered to find the apartment deserted, but the +curtain was drawn from the doorway of the glass-room and he passed in. +Upon the bed in the yellow light of the moon lay the slender figure of +Gerald, one arm thrown around the disordered hair, the other hanging +listless from his side.</p> + +<p>He approached and bent above the bed. The face turned upward there +seemed like wax in the oft-broken gloom. The sleeper had not stirred. It +was the vibration of chords in harmony, that had moved him. Would it +have power again? He hesitated a moment, then returned quickly to the +wing-room and secured his instrument. Concealing himself he waited. It +was but a moment.</p> + +<p>The wind brought the branches of the nearest oleanders against the frail +walls, and the play of lightning had become continuous. Then began in +earnest the tumult of the vast sound waves as they met in the vapory +caverns of the sky. The sleeper tossed restlessly upon his bed; he was +stirred by a vague but unknown power; yet something was wanting.</p> + +<p>At this moment Edward lifted his violin and, catching the storm note, +wove a solemn strain into the diapason of the mighty organ of the sky. +And as he played, as if by one motion, the sleeper stood alone in the +middle of the room. Again Edward saw that frenzied stare fixed upon +vacancy, but there was no furious leap of the agile limbs; by a powerful +effort the struggling mind seemed to throw off a weight and the sleeper +awoke.</p> + +<p>The bow was now suspended; the music had ceased. Gerald rushed to his +easel and, standing in a sea of electric flame, outlined with swift +strokes a woman's face and form. She was struggling in the grasp of a +man and her face was the face of the artist who worked. But such +expression! Agony, horror, despair!</p> + +<p>The figure of the man was not complete from the waist down; his face was +concealed. Between them, as they contended, was a child's coffin in the +arms of the woman. Overhead were the bare outlines of an arch.</p> + +<p>The artist hesitated and added behind the group a tree, whose branches +seemed to lash the ground. And there memory failed; the crayon fell from +his fingers; he stood listless by the canvas. Then with a cry he buried +his face in his hands and wept.</p> + +<p>As he stood thus, the visitor, awed but triumphant, glided through the +door and disappeared in the wing-room. He knew that he had touched a +hidden chord; that the picture on the canvas was born under the +flashlight of memory! Was it brain? Oh, for the wisdom of Virdow!</p> + +<p>Sympathy moved him to return again to the glass-room. It was empty!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>ON THE BACK TRAIL.</h3> + + +<p>Edward found himself next day feverish and mentally disturbed; but he +felt new life in the morning air. There was a vehicle available; a roomy +buggy, after the fashion of those chosen by physicians, with covered +tops to keep out the sun, and rubber aprons for the rain. And there was +a good reliable horse, that had traveled the city road almost daily for +ten years.</p> + +<p>He finished his meal and started out. In the yard he found Gerald pale +and with the contracted pupils that betrayed his deadly habit. He was +taking views with a camera and came forward with breathless interest.</p> + +<p>"I am trying some experiments with photographs on the line of our +conversation," he said. "If the mind pictures can be revived they must +necessarily exist. Do they? The question with me now is, can any living +substance retain a photographic impression? You understand, it seems +that the brain can receive these impressions through certain senses, but +the brain is transient; through a peculiar process of supply and waste +it is always coming and going. If it is true that every atom of our +physical bodies undergoes a change at least once in seven years, how can +the impressions survive? I have here upon my plate the sensitized film +of a fish's eyes; I caught it this morning. I must establish, first, the +proposition that a living substance can receive a photographic image; if +I can make an impression remain upon this film I have gained a little +point—a little one. But the fish should be alive. There are almost +insuperable difficulties, you understand! The time will come when a new +light will be made, so powerful, penetrating as to illumine solids. +Then, perhaps, will the brain be seen at work through the skull; then +may its tiny impressions even be found and enlarged; then will the past +give up its secrets. And the eye is not the brain." He looked away in +perplexity. "If I only had brain substance, brain substance—a living +brain!" He hurried away and Edward resumed his journey to the city, sad +and thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"It was not wise," he said, "it was not wise to start Gerald upon that +line of thought. And yet why not as well one fancy as another?" He had +no conception of the power of an idea in such a mind as Gerald's.</p> + +<p>"You did not mention to me," he said an hour later, sitting in +Eldridge's office, "that I would have a ward in charge out at Ilexhurst. +You naturally supposed I knew it, did you not?"</p> + +<p>"And you did not know it?" Eldridge looked at him in unaffected +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Positively not until the day after I reached the house! I had never +heard of Gerald Morgan. You can imagine my surprise, when he walked in +upon me one night."</p> + +<p>"You really astound me; but it is just like old Morgan—pardon me if I +smile. Of all eccentrics he was the most consistent. Yes, you have a +charge and a serious one. I am probably the only person in the city who +knows something of Gerald, and my information is extremely limited. With +an immense capacity for acquiring information, a remarkable memory and a +keen analysis, the young man has never developed the slightest capacity +for business. He received everything, but applied nothing. I was +informed by his uncle, not long since, that there was no science exact +or occult into which Gerald had not delved at some time, but his mind +seemed content with simply finding out."</p> + +<p>"Gerald has been a most prodigious reader, devouring everything," +continued the judge, "ancient and modern, within reach, knows literature +and politics equally well, and is master of most languages to the point +of being able to read them. I suppose his unfortunate habit—of course +you know of that—is the obstacle now. For many years now I believe, the +young man has not been off the plantation, and only at long intervals +was he ever absent from it. Ten or fifteen years ago he used to be seen +occasionally in the city in search of a book, an instrument or something +his impatience could not wait on."</p> + +<p>"Ten or fifteen years ago! You knew him then before he was grown?"</p> + +<p>"I have known him ever since his childhood!" An exclamation in spite of +him escaped from Edward's lips, but he did not give Eldridge time to +reflect upon it.</p> + +<p>"Is his existence generally known?" asked he, in some confusion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, the public knows of his existence. He is the skeleton in +Morgan's closet, that is all."</p> + +<p>"And who is he?" asked Edward, looking the lawyer straight into the +eyes.</p> + +<p>"That," said Eldridge, gravely, "is what I would ask of you." Edward was +silent. He shook his head; it was an admission of ignorance, confirmed +by his next question.</p> + +<p>"Have you no theory, Judge, to account for his existence under such +circumstances?"</p> + +<p>"Theory? Oh, no! The public and myself have always regarded him simply +as a fact. His treatment by John Morgan was one of the few glimpses we +got of the old man's rough, kind nature. But his own silence seemed to +beg silence, and no one within my knowledge ever spoke with him upon the +subject. It would have been very difficult," he added, with a smile, +"for he was the most unapproachable man, in certain respects, that I +ever met."</p> + +<p>"You knew him well? May I ask if ever within your knowledge there was +any romance or tragedy in his earlier life?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know nor have I ever heard of any tragedy in the life of your +relative," said the lawyer, slowly; and then, after a pause: "It is +known to men of my age, at least remembered by some, that late in life, +or when about forty years old, he conceived a violent attachment for the +daughter of a planter in this county and was, it is said, at one time +engaged to her. The match was sort of family arrangement and the girl +very young. She was finishing her education at the north and was to have +been married upon her return; but she never returned. She ran away to +Europe with one of her teachers. The war came on and with it the +blockade. No one has ever heard of her since. Her disappearance, her +existence, were soon forgotten. I remember her because I, then a young +lawyer, had been called occasionally to her father's house, where I met +and was greatly impressed by her. But I am probably one of the few who +have carried in mind her features. She was a beautiful and lovable young +woman, but, without a mother's training she had grown up self-willed and +the result was as I have told you." Edward had risen and was walking the +floor. He paused before the speaker.</p> + +<p>"Judge Eldridge," he said, his voice a little unsteady, "I am going to +ask you a question, which I trust you will be free to answer—will +answer, and then forget." An expression of uneasiness dwelt on the +lawyer's face, but he answered:</p> + +<p>"Ask it; if I am free to answer, and can, I will."</p> + +<p>"I will ask it straight," said Edward, resolutely: "Have you ever +suspected that Gerald Morgan is the son of the young woman who went +away?"</p> + +<p>Eldridge's reply was simply a grave bow. He did not look up.</p> + +<p>"You do not know that to be a fact?"</p> + +<p>"I do not."</p> + +<p>"What, then, is my duty?"</p> + +<p>"To follow the directions left by your relative," said Eldridge, +promptly.</p> + +<p>Edward reflected a few moments over the lawyer's answer.</p> + +<p>"I agree with you, but time may bring changes. May I ask what is your +theory of this strange situation—as regards my ward?" He could not +bring himself to betray the fact of his own mystery.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said Eldridge, slowly, "that if your guess is correct the +adventure of the lady was an unfortunate one, and that, disowned at +home, she made John Morgan the guardian of her boy. She, more than +likely, is long since dead. It would have been entirely consistent with +your uncle's character if, outraged in the beginning, he was forgiving +and chivalrous in the end."</p> + +<p>"But why was the silence never broken?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know that it was never broken. I have nothing to go upon. I +believe, however, that it never was. The explanations that suggest +themselves to my mind are, first, a pledge of silence exacted from him, +and he would have kept such a pledge under any circumstances. Second, a +difficulty in proving the legitimacy of the boy. You will understand," +he added, "that the matter is entirely suppositious. I would prefer to +think that your uncle saw unhappiness for the boy in a change of +guardianship, and unhappiness for the grandfather, and left the matter +open. You know he died suddenly."</p> + +<p>There was silence of a few moments and Eldridge added: "And yet it does +seem that he would have left the old man something to settle the doubt +which must have rested upon his mind; it is an awful thing to lose a +daughter from sight and live out one's life in ignorance of her fate." +And then, as Edward made no reply, "you found nothing whatever to +explain the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing! In the desk, to which his note directed me, I found only a +short letter of directions; one of which was that I should arrange with +you to provide for Gerald's future in case of my death. The desk +contained nothing else except some manuscripts—fragmentary narratives +and descriptions, they seemed." Eldridge smiled.</p> + +<p>"His one weakness," he said. "Years ago John Morgan became impressed +with the idea that he was fitted for literary work and began to write +short stories for magazines, under <i>nom de plume</i>. I was the only person +who shared his secret and together we told many a good story of bench, +bar and practice. Neither of us had much invention and our career—you +see I claim a share—our career was limited to actual occurrences. When +our stock of ammunition was used up we were bankrupt. But it was a +success while it lasted. Mr. Morgan had a rapid, vivid style of +presenting scenes; his stories were full of action and dramatic +situations and made quite a hit. I did not know he had any writings left +over. He used to say, though, as I remember now, speaking in the +serio-comic way he often affected, that the great American novel, so +long expected, lay in his desk in fragments. You have probably gotten +among these.</p> + +<p>"And by the way," continued the judge, impressively, "he was not far +wrong in his estimate of the literary possibilities of this section. The +peculiar institutions of the south, its wealth, its princely planters, +and through all the tangle of love, romance, tragedy and family secrets. +And what a background! The war, the freed slaves, the old +regime—courtly, unchanged, impractical and helpless. Turgeneff wrote +under such a situation in Russia, and called his powerful novel 'Fathers +and Sons.' Mr. Morgan used to say that he was going to call his 'Sons +and Fathers.' Hold to his fragments; he was a close observer, and if you +have literary aspirations they will be suggestive." Edward shook his +head.</p> + +<p>"I have none, but I see the force of your outline. Now about Gerald; I +trust you will think over the matter and let me know what your judgment +suggests. I promised Mr. Montjoy to drop in at the club. I will say +good-morning."</p> + +<p>"No," said Eldridge, "it is my lunch hour and I will go with you."</p> + +<p>Together they went to a business club and Edward was presented to a +group of elderly men who were discussing politics over their glasses. +Among them was Col. Montjoy, in town for a day, several capitalists, a +planter or two, lawyers and physicians. They regarded the newcomer with +interest and received him with perfect courtesy. "A grand man your +relative was, Mr. Morgan, a grand man; perfect type, sir, of the +southern gentleman! The community, sir, has met with an irreparable +loss. I trust you will make your home here, sir. We need good men, sir; +strong, brainy, energetic men, sir."</p> + +<p>So said the central figure, Gen. Albert Evan.</p> + +<p>"Montjoy, you remember cousin Sam Pope of the Fire-Eaters—died in the +ditch at Marye's Heights near Cobb? Perfect likeness of Mr. Morgan here; +same face same figure—pardon the personal allusion, Mr. Morgan, but +your prototype was the bravest of the brave. You do each other honor in +the resemblance, sir! Waiter, fill these glasses! Gentlemen," cried the +general, "we will drink to the health of our young friend and the memory +of Sam Pope. God bless them both."</p> + +<p>Such was Edward's novel reception, and he would not have been human had +he not flushed with pleasure. The conversation ran back gradually to its +original channel.</p> + +<p>"We have been congratulating Col. Montjoy, Mr. Morgan," said one of the +party in explanation to Morgan, "upon the announcement of his candidacy +for congress."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the latter, promptly bowing to the old gentleman, "let me +express the hope that the result will be such as will enable me to +congratulate the country. I stand ready, colonel, to lend my aid as far +as possible, but I am hampered somewhat by not knowing my own politics +yet. Are you on the Democratic or Republican ticket, colonel?"</p> + +<p>This astonishing question silenced the conversation instantly and drew +every eye upon him. But recovering from his shock, Col. Montjoy smiled +amiably, and said:</p> + +<p>"There is but one party in this state, sir—the Democratic. I am a +candidate for nomination, but nomination is election always with us." +Then to the others present he added: "Mr. Morgan has lived abroad since +he came of age—I am right, am I not, Mr. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so. And I may add," continued Edward, who was painfully conscious +of having made a serious blunder, "that I have never lived in the south +and know nothing of state politics." This would have been sufficient, +but unfortunately Edward did not realize it. "I know, however, that you +have here a great problem and that the world is watching to see how you +will handle the race question. I wish you success; the negro has my +sympathy and I think that much can be safely allowed him in the +settlement."</p> + +<p>He remembered always thereafter the silence that followed this earnest +remark, and he had cause to remember it. He had touched the old south in +its rawest point and he was too new a citizen. Eldridge joined him in +the walk back, but Edward let him talk for both. The direction of his +thoughts was indicated in the question he asked at parting.</p> + +<p>"Judge Eldridge, did you purposely withhold the girl's name—my uncle's +fiancee? If so, I will not ask it, but——"</p> + +<p>"No, not purposely, but we handle names reluctantly in this country. She +was Marion Evan, and you but recently met her father."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE TRAGEDY IN THE STORM.</h3> + + +<p>Edward returned to Ilexhurst that evening conscious of a mental +uneasiness. He could not account for it except upon the hypothesis of +unusual excitement. His mind had simply failed to react. And yet to his +sensitive nature there was something more. Was it the conversation with +Eldridge and the sudden dissipation of his error concerning Gerald, or +did it date to the meeting in the club? There was a discord somewhere. +He became conscious after awhile that he had failed to harmonize with +his new acquaintances and that among these was Col. Montjoy. He seemed +to feel an ache as though a cold wind blew upon his heart. If he had not +made that unfortunate remark about the negro! He acquitted himself very +readily, but he could not forget that terrible silence. "I have great +sympathy for the negro," he had said. What he meant was that, secure in +her power and intelligence, her courage and advancement, the south could +safely concede much to the lower class. That is what he felt and +believed, but he had not said it that way. He would say it to-morrow to +Col. Montjoy and explain. Relief followed the resolution.</p> + +<p>And then, sitting in the little room, which began to exert a strange +power over him, he reviewed in mind the strange history of the people +whose lives had begun to touch his. The man downstairs, sleeping off the +effects of the drug, taken to dull a feverish brain that had all day +struggled with new problems; what a life his was! Educated beyond the +scope of any single university, Eldridge had said, and yet a child, less +than a child! What romance, what tragedies behind those restless eyes! +And sleeping down yonder by the river in that eternal silence of the +city of the dead, the old lawyer, a mystery living, a mystery dead! What +a depth of love must have stirred the bosom of the man to endure in +silence for so many years for the sake of a fickle girl! What +forgiveness! Or was it revenge? This idea flashed upon Edward with the +suddenness of an inspiration. Revenge! What a revenge! And the woman, +was she living or dead? And if living, were her eyes to watch him, +Edward Morgan, and his conduct? Where was the father and why was the +grandfather ignorant or silent? Then he turned to his own problem. That +was an old story. As he sat dreaming over these things his eyes fell +upon the fragmentary manuscripts, and almost idly he began to read the +briefs upon them.</p> + +<p>One was inscribed, "The Storm," and it seemed to be the bulkiest. +Opening it he began to read; before he knew it he was interested. The +chapter read:</p> + +<p>"Not a zephyr stirred the expectant elms. They lifted their arms against +the starlit sky in shadowy tracery, and motionless as a forest of coral +in the tideless depths of a southern sea.</p> + +<p>"The cloud still rose.</p> + +<p>"It was a cloud indeed. It stretched across the west, far into north and +south, its base lost in the shadow, its upper line defined and advancing +swiftly, surely, flanking the city and shutting out the stars with its +mighty wings. Far down the west the lightning began to tear the mass, +but still the spell of silence remained. When this strange hush is +combined with terrific action, when the vast forces are so swift as to +outrun sound, then, indeed, does the chill of fear leap forth.</p> + +<p>"So came on the cloud. Now the city was half surrounded, its walls +scaled. Half the stars were gone. Some of the flying battalions had even +rushed past!</p> + +<p>"But the elms stood changeless, immovable, asleep!</p> + +<p>"Suddenly one vivid, crackling, tearing, defending flash of intensest +light split the gloom and the thunder leaped into the city! It awoke +then! Every foundation trembled! Every tree dipped furiously. The winds +burst in. What a tumult! They rushed down the parallel streets and +alleys, these barbarians; they came by the intersecting ways! They +fought each other frantically for the spoils of the city, struggling +upward in equal conflict, carrying dust and leaves and debris. They were +sucked down by the hollow squares, they wept and mourned, they sobbed +about doorways, they sung and cheered among the chimneys and the +trembling vanes. They twisted away great tree limbs and hurled them far +out into the spaces which the lightning hollowed in the night! They +drove every inhabitant indoors and tugged frantically at the city's +defenses! They tore off shutters and lashed the housetops with the poor +trees!</p> + +<p>"The focus of the battle was the cathedral! It was the citadel! Here was +wrath and frenzy and despair! The winds swept around and upward, with +measureless force, and at times seemed to lift the great pile from its +foundations. But it was the lashing trees that deceived the eye; it +stood immovable, proud, strong, while the evil ones hurled their +maledictions and screamed defiance at the very door of God's own heart.</p> + +<p>"In vain. In a far up niche stood a weather-beaten saint—the warden. +The hand of God upheld him and kept the citadel while unseen forces +swung the great bell to voice his faith and trust amid the gloom!</p> + +<p>"Then came the deluge, huge drops, bullets almost, in fierceness, +shivering each other until the street-lamps seemed set in driving fog +through which the silvered missiles flashed horizontally—a storm +traveling within a storm.</p> + +<p>"But when the tempest weeps, its heart is gone. Hark! 'Tis the voice of +the great organ; how grand, how noble, how triumphant! One burst of +melody louder than the rest breaks through the storm and mingles with +the thunder's roar.</p> + +<p>"Look! A woman! She has come, whence God alone may know! She totters +toward the cathedral; a step more and she is safe, but it is never +taken! One other frightened life has sought the sanctuary. In the grasp +of the tempest it has traveled with wide-spread wings; a great white sea +bird, like a soul astray in the depths of passion. It falls into the +eddy, struggles wearily toward the lights, whirls about the woman's head +and sinks, gasping, dying at her feet. The God-pity rises within her, +triumphing over fear and mortal anguish. She stands motionless a moment; +she does not take the wanderer to her bosom, she cannot! The winds have +stripped the cover from the burden in her arms! It is a child's coffin, +pressed against her bosom. The moment of safety is gone! In the next a +man, the seeming incarnation of the storm itself, springs upon her, +tears the burden from her and disappears like a shadow within a shadow!</p> + +<p>"Within the cathedral they are celebrating the birth of Christ, without, +the elements repeat the scene when the veil of the temple was rended.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"The storm had passed. The lightning still blazed vividly, but silently +now, and at each flash the scene stood forth an instant as though some +mighty artist was making pictures with magnesium. A tall woman, who had +crouched, as one under the influence of an overpowering terror near the +inner door, now crept to the outer, beneath the arch, and looked +fearfully about. She went down the few steps to the pavement. Suddenly +in the transient light a face looked up into hers, from her feet; a face +that seemed not human. The features were convulsed, the eyes set. With a +low cry the woman slipped her arms under the figure on the pavement, +lifted it as though it were that of a child and disappeared in the +night. The face that had looked up was as white as the lily at noon; the +face bent in pity above it was dark as the leaves of that lily scattered +upon the sod."</p> + +<p>Edward read this and smiled, as he laid it aside, and continued with the +other papers. They were brief sketches and memoranda of chapters; +sometimes a single sentence upon a page, just as his friend De +Maupassant used to jot them down one memorable summer when they had +lingered together along the Riviera, but they had no connection with +"The Storm" and the characters therein suggested. If they belonged to +the same narrative the connections were gone.</p> + +<p>Wearied at last he took up his violin and began to play. It is said that +improvisers cannot but run back to the music they have written. +"Calvary" was his masterpiece and soon he found himself lost in its +harmonies. Then by easy steps there rose in memory, as he played, the +storm and Gerald's sketch. He paused abruptly and sat with his bow idle +upon the strings, for in his mind a link had formed between that sketch +and the chapter he had just read. He had felt the story was true when he +read it. The lawyer had said John Morgan wrote from life. Here was the +first act of a drama in the life of a child, and the last, perhaps, in +the life of a woman.</p> + +<p>And that child under the influence of music had felt the storm scene +flash upon his memory and had drawn it. The child was Gerald Morgan.</p> + +<p>Edward laid aside the violin for a moment, went into the front room, +threw open the shutters and loosened his cravat. Something seemed to +suffocate him, as he struggled against the admission of this +irresistible conclusion. Overwhelmed with the significance of the +discovery, he exclaimed aloud: "It was an inherited memory."</p> + +<p>But if the boy had been born under the circumstances set forth in the +sketch, who was the man, and why should he have assaulted the woman who +bore the child's coffin? And what was she doing abroad under such +circumstances? The man and the woman's object was hidden perhaps +forever. But not so the woman; the artist had given her features, and as +for the other woman, the author had said she was dark. There was in +Gerald's mind picture no dark woman; only the girl with the coffin, the +arch above and the faint outlines of bending trees!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>"GOD PITY ME! GOD PITY ME!"</h3> + + +<p>Edward was sitting thus lost in the contemplation of the circumstances +surrounding him, when by that subtle sense as yet not analyzed he felt +the presence of another person in the room, and looked over his +shoulder. Gerald was advancing toward him smiling mysteriously. Edward +noticed his burning eyes and saw intense mental excitement gleaming +beyond. The man's mood was different from any he had before revealed.</p> + +<p>"So you have been out among the friends of your family," he said, with +his queer smile. "How did you like them?" Edward was distinctly offended +by the supercilious manner and impertinent question, but he remembered +his ward's condition and resentment passed from him.</p> + +<p>"Pleasant people, Gerald, but I am not gifted with the faculty of making +friends easily. How come on your experiments?"</p> + +<p>The visitor's expression changed. He looked about him guardedly. "They +advance," he replied, in a whisper; "they advance!"</p> + +<p>Whatever his motive for entering that room—a room unfamiliar to him, +for his restless eyes had searched it over and over in the few minutes +he had been in it—was forgotten in the enthusiasm of the scientist. "I +have mapped out a course and am working toward it," he said; and then +presently: "You remember that pictures can now be transmitted by +electricity across great stretches of space and flashed upon a disc? So +goes the scene from the convex surface of the eye along a thread-like +nerve, so flashed the picture in the brain. But somewhere there it +remains. How to prove it, to prove it, that is the question! Oh, for a +brain, a brain to dissect!" He glared at Edward, who shuddered under the +wildness of the eyes bent upon him. "But time enough for that; I must +first ascertain if a picture can be imprinted upon any living substance +by light, and remain. This I can do in another way."</p> + +<p>"How?" Edward was fascinated.</p> + +<p>"It is a great idea. The fish's eye will not do; it is itself a camera +and the protecting film is impression-proof. It lacks the gelatine +surface, but over some fish is spread the real gelatine—in fact, the +very stuff that sensitive plates rely upon. In our lake is a great bass, +that swims deep. I have caught them weighing ten and twelve pounds. They +are pale, greenish white until exposed to the light, when they darken. +If the combined action of the light and air did not actually destroy +this gelatine, they would turn black. The back, which daily receives the +downward ray direct, is as are the backs of most fishes, dark; it is a +spoiled plate. But not so the sides. It is upon this fish I am preparing +to make pictures."</p> + +<p>"But how?" Gerald smiled and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Wait. It is too important to talk about in advance."</p> + +<p>Edward regarded him long and thoughtfully and felt rising within him a +greater sympathy. It was pitiful that such a mind should die in the +embrace of a mere drug, dragged down to destruction by a habit. "Beyond +the scope of any single university," but not beyond the slavery of a +weed.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking, Gerald," he said, finally, fixing a steady gaze +upon the restless eyes of his visitor, "that the day is near at hand +when you must bring to your rescue the power of a great will."</p> + +<p>Gerald listened, grew pale and remained silent. Presently he turned to +the speaker.</p> + +<p>"You know, then. Tell me what to do."</p> + +<p>"You must cease the use of morphine and opium."</p> + +<p>Gerald drew a deep breath and smiled good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is it," he said; "some one has told you that I am a victim of +morphine and opium. Well, what would you think if I should tell you he +is simply mistaken?"</p> + +<p>His face was frank and unclouded. Edward gazed upon him, incredulous. +After a moment's pause, during which Gerald enjoyed his astonishment, he +continued:</p> + +<p>"I was once a victim; there is no doubt of that; but now I am cured. It +was a frightful struggle. A man who has not experienced it or witnessed +it can form no conception of what it means to break away from habitual +use of opium. Some day you may need it and my experience will help you. +I began by cutting my customary allowance for a day in half, and day +after day, week after week, I kept cutting it in half until the time +came when I could not divide it with a razor. Would you believe it, the +habit was as strong in the end as the beginning? I lay awake and thought +of that little speck by the hours; I tossed and cried myself to sleep +over it! I slept and wept myself awake. The only remedy for this and all +habits is a mental victory. I made the fight—I won!</p> + +<p>"I can never forget that day," and he smiled as he said it; "the day I +found it impossible to divide the speck of opium; a breath would have +blown it away, but I would have murdered the man who breathed upon it. I +swallowed it; the touch of that atom is yet upon my tongue; I swallowed +it and slept like a child; and then came the waking! For days I was a +maniac—but it passed.</p> + +<p>"I grew into a new life—a beautiful, peaceful world. It had been around +me all the time but I had forgotten how it looked; a blissful world! I +was cured.</p> + +<p>"Years have passed since that day, and no taste of the hateful drug has +ever been upon my tongue. Not for all the gold in the universe, not for +any secrets of science, not for a look back into the face of my mother," +he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet; "not for a smile from heaven +would I lay hands upon that fiend again!"</p> + +<p>He closed abruptly, his hand trembling, the perspiration beading his +brow. His eyes fell and the woman Rita stood before them, a look of +ineffable sadness and tenderness upon her face.</p> + +<p>"Will you retire now, Master Gerald?" she said, gently. Without a word +he turned and left the room. She was about to follow when Edward, +excited and touched by the scene he had witnessed and full of +discoveries, stopped her with an imperious gesture.</p> + +<p>For a moment he paced the room. Rita was motionless, awaiting with +evident nervousness his pleasure. He came and stood before her, and, +looking her steadily in the face, said, abruptly:</p> + +<p>"Woman, what is the name of that young man, and what is mine?"</p> + +<p>She drew back quickly and her lips parted in a gasp.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he heard her whisper.</p> + +<p>"I demand an answer! You carry the secret of one of us—probably both. +Which is the son of Marion Evans?"</p> + +<p>She sank upon her knees and hid her face in her apron.</p> + +<p>It was all true, then. Edward felt as though he himself would sink down +beside her if the silence continued.</p> + +<p>"Say it," he said, hoarsely; "say it!"</p> + +<p>"As God is my judge," she answered, faintly, "I do not know."</p> + +<p>"One is?"</p> + +<p>"One is."</p> + +<p>"And the other—who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Mine." The answer was like a whisper from the pines wafted in through +the open window. It was loud enough. Edward caught the chair for +support. The world reeled about him. He suffocated.</p> + +<p>Rita still knelt with covered head, but her trembling form betrayed the +presence of the long-restrained emotions. He walked unsteadily to the +mantel, and, drawing the cover from the little picture, went to the +mirror and placed it again by his face. At length he said in despair:</p> + +<p>"God pity me! God pity me!"</p> + +<p>The woman arose then and took the picture and gazed long and earnestly +upon it. A sob burst from her lips. Lifting it again to the level of the +man's face, she looked from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"Enough!" he said, reading it aright.</p> + +<p>Despair had settled over his own face. She handed back the little +likeness, and, clasping her hands, stood in simple dignity awaiting his +will. He noticed then, as he studied her countenance closely, the lines +of suffering there; the infallible record that some faces carry, which, +whether it stands for remorse, for patience, for pure, unbroken sorrow, +is always a consecration.</p> + +<p>"Master, it must have come some time," she said, at length, "but I have +hoped it would not be through me." Her voice was just audible.</p> + +<p>"Be seated," said Morgan. "If your story is true, and it may be so, you +should not stand." He turned away from her and walked to the window; she +was seeking for an opening to begin her story. He began for her:</p> + +<p>"You crouched in a church door to avoid the storm; a woman seeking +shelter there appeared just outside. She was attacked by a man and fell +to the ground unconscious; you carried her off in your arms; her child +was born soon after, and what then?"</p> + +<p>Amazed she stared at him a moment in silence.</p> + +<p>"And mine was born! The fright, the horror, the sickness! It was a +terrible dream; a terrible dream! But a month afterward, I was here +alone with two babies at my breast and the mother was gone. God help me, +and help her! But in that time Master John says I lost the memory of my +child! Master Gerald I claimed, but his face was the face of Miss +Marion, and he was white and delicate like her. And you, sir, were dark. +And then I had never been a slave; John Morgan's father gave me my +liberty when I was born. I lived with him until my marriage, then after +my husband's death, which was just before this storm, they brought me +here and I waited. She never came back. Master Gerald was sickly always +and we kept him, but they sent you away. Master John thought it was +best. And the years have passed quickly."</p> + +<p>"And General Evan—did he never know?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I would not let them take Master Gerald, because I believed he +was my child; and Master John, I suppose, would not believe in you. The +families are proud; we let things rest as they were, thinking Miss +Marion would come back some day. But she will not come now; she will not +come!"</p> + +<p>The miserable secret was out. After a long silence Edward lifted his +head and said with deep emotion: "Then, in your opinion, I am your son?" +She looked at him sadly and nodded.</p> + +<p>"And in the opinion of John Morgan, Gerald is the son of Marion Evans?" +She bowed.</p> + +<p>"We have let it stand that way. But you should never have known! I do +not think you were ever to have known." The painful silence that +followed was broken by his question:</p> + +<p>"Gerald's real name?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know! I do not know! All that I do know I have told you!"</p> + +<p>"And the child's coffin?" She pressed her hand to her forehead.</p> + +<p>"It was a dream; I do not know!"</p> + +<p>He gazed upon her with profound emotion and pity.</p> + +<p>"You must be tired," he said, gently. "Think no more of these troubles +to-night."</p> + +<p>She turned and went away. He followed to the head of the stairs and +waited until he heard her step in the hall below.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," he had said, gravely. And from the shadowy depths below +came back a faint, mournful echo of the word.</p> + +<p>When Edward returned to the room he sat by the window and buried his +face upon his arm. Hour after hour passed; the outer world slept. Had he +been of the south, reared there and a sharer in its traditions, the +secret would have died with him that night and its passing would have +been signaled by a single pistol shot. But he was not of the south, in +experience, association or education.</p> + +<p>It was in the hush of midnight that he rose from his seat, took the +picture and descended the steps. The wing-room was never locked; he +entered. Through the drawn curtains of the glass-room he saw the form of +Gerald lying in the moonlight upon his narrow bed. Placing the picture +beside the still, white face of the sleeper, he was shocked by the +likeness. One glance was enough. He went back to his window again.</p> + +<p>One, two, three, four o'clock from the distant church steeple.</p> + +<p>How the solemn numbers have tolled above the sorrow-folds of the human +heart and echoed in the dewless valleys of the mind, the depths to which +we sink when hope is gone!</p> + +<p>But with the dawn what shadows flee!</p> + +<p>So came the dawn at last; the pale, tremulous glimmer on the eastern +hills, the white light, the rosy flush and then in the splendor of +fading mists the giant sun rolled up the sky.</p> + +<p>A man stood pale and weary before the open window at Ilexhurst. "The +odds are against me," he said, grimly, "but I feel a power within me +stronger than evidence. I will match it against the word of this woman, +though every circumstance strengthened that word. The voice of the +Caucasian, not the voice of Ethiopia, speaks within me! The woman does +not believe herself; the mother's instinct has been baffled, but not +destroyed!"</p> + +<p>And yet again, the patrician bearing, the aristocrat! Such was Gerald.</p> + +<p>"We shall see," he said, between his teeth. "Wait until Virdow comes!"</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, when, not having slept, he arose late in the day, he was +almost overwhelmed with the memory of the revelation made to him, and +the effect it must have upon his future.</p> + +<p>At that moment there came into his mind the face of Mary.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE CRIMSON OF SUNSET.</h3> + + +<p>Edward left the house without any definite idea of how he would carry on +the search for the truth of his own history, but his determination was +complete. He did not enter the dining-room, but called for his buggy and +drove direct to the city. He wished to see neither Rita nor Gerald until +the tumult within him had been stilled. His mind was yet in a whirl when +without previous resolution he turned his horse in the direction of "The +Hall" and let it choose its gait. The sun was low when he drew up before +the white-columned house and entered the yard. Mary stood in the doorway +and smiled a welcome, but as he approached she looked into his face in +alarm.</p> + +<p>"You have been ill?" she said, with quick sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Do I look it?" he asked; "I have not slept well. Perhaps that shows +upon me. It is rather dreary work this getting acquainted." He tried to +deceive her with a smile.</p> + +<p>"How ungallant!" she exclaimed, "to say that to me, and so soon after we +have become acquainted."</p> + +<p>"We are old acquaintances, Miss Montjoy," he replied with more +earnestness than the occasion justified. "I knew you in Paris, in Rome, +even in India—I have known you always." She blushed slightly and turned +her face away as a lady appeared leading a little girl.</p> + +<p>"Here is Mr. Morgan, Annie; you met him for a moment only, I believe."</p> + +<p>The newcomer extended her hand languidly.</p> + +<p>"Any one whom Norton is so enthusiastic about," she said, without +warmth, "must be worth meeting a second time."</p> + +<p>Her small eyes rested upon the visitor an instant. Stunned as he had +been by large misfortunes, he felt again the unpleasant impression of +their first meeting. Whether it was the manner, the tone of voice, the +glance or languid hand that slipped limply from his own, or all +combined, he did not know; he did not care much at that time. The young +woman placed the freed hand over the mouth of the child begging for a +biscuit, and without looking down said:</p> + +<p>"Mary, get this brat a biscuit, please. She will drive me distracted." +Mary stooped and the Duchess leaped into her arms, happy at once. Edward +followed them with his eyes until they reached the end of the porch and +Mary turned a moment to receive additional directions from the young +mother. He knew, then, where he had first seen her. She was a little +madonna in a roadside shrine in Sicily, distinct and different from all +the madonnas of his acquaintance, in that she seemed to have stepped up +direct from among the people who knelt there; a motherly little woman in +touch with every home nestling in those hills. The young mother by him +was watching him with curiosity.</p> + +<p>"I have to thank you for a beautiful picture," he said.</p> + +<p>"You are an artist, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; a dilletante. But the picture of a woman with her child in her +arms appeals to most men; to none more than those who never knew a +mother nor had a home." He stopped suddenly, the blood rushed to his +face and brain, and he came near staggering. He had forgotten for the +moment.</p> + +<p>He recovered, to find the keen eyes of the woman studying him intently. +Did she know, did she suspect? How this question would recur to him in +all the years! He turned from her, pale and angry. Fortunately, Mary +returned at this moment, the little one contentedly munching upon its +biscuit. The elder Mrs. Montjoy welcomed him with her motherly way, +inquiring closely into his arrangements for comfort out at Ilexhurst. +Who was caring for him? Rita! Well, that was fortunate; Rita was a good +cook and good housekeeper, and a good nurse. He affected a careless +interest and she continued:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Rita lived for years near here. She was a free woman and as a +professional nurse accumulated quite a sum of money, and then her +husband dying, John Morgan had taken her to his house to look after a +young relative who had been left to his care. What has become of this +young person?" she asked. "I have not heard of him for many years."</p> + +<p>"He is still there," said Edward, briefly.</p> + +<p>And then, as they were silent, he continued: "This woman Rita had a +husband; how did they manage in old times? Was he free also? You see, +since I have become a citizen your institutions have a deal of interest +for me. It must have been inconvenient to be free and have someone else +owning the husband."</p> + +<p>He was not satisfied with the effort; he could not restrain an +inclination to look toward the younger Mrs. Montjoy. She was leaning +back in her chair, with eyes half-closed, and smiling upon him. He could +have strangled her cheerfully. The elder lady's voice recalled him.</p> + +<p>"Her husband was free also; that is, it was thought that she had bought +him," and she smiled over the idea.</p> + +<p>A slanting sunbeam came through the window; they were now in the +sitting-room and Mary quickly adjusted the shade to shield her mother's +face.</p> + +<p>"Mamma is still having trouble with her eyes," she said; "we cannot +afford to let her strain the sound one."</p> + +<p>"My eyes do pain me a great deal," the elder Mrs. Montjoy said. "Did you +ever have neuralgia, Mr. Morgan? Sometimes I think it is neuralgia. I +must have Dr. Campbell down to look at my eyes. I am afraid——" she did +not complete the sentence, but the quick sympathy of the man helped him +to read her silence aright. Mary caught her breath nervously.</p> + +<p>"Mary, take me to my room; I think I will lie down until tea. Mr. Morgan +will be glad to walk some, I am sure; take him down to the mill." She +gave that gentleman her hand again; a hand that seemed to him eloquent +with gentleness. "Good-night, if I do not see you again," she said. "I +do not go to the table now on account of the lamp." He felt a lump in +his throat and an almost irresistible desire to throw himself upon her +sympathy. She would understand. But the next instant the idea of such a +thing filled him with horror. It would banish him forever from the +portals of that proud home.</p> + +<p>And ought he not to banish himself? He trembled over the mental +question. No! His courage returned. There had been some horrible +mistake! Not until the light of day shone on the indisputable fact, not +until proof irresistible had said: "You are base-born! Depart!" When +that hour came he would depart! He saw Mary waiting for him at the door; +the young mother was still watching him, he thought. He bowed and strode +from the room.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said the girl, quickly; "you seem excited." She was +already learning to read him.</p> + +<p>"Do I? Well, let me see; I am not accustomed to ladies' society," he +said, lightly; "so much beauty and graciousness have overwhelmed me." He +was outside now and the fresh breeze steadied him instantly.</p> + +<p>There was a sun-setting before them that lent a glow to the girl's face +and a new light to her eyes. He saw it there first and then in the +skies. Across a gentle slope of land that came down from a mile away on +the opposite side into their valley the sun had gone behind a shower. +Out on one side a fiery cloud floated like a ship afire, and behind it +were the lilac highlands of the sky. The scene brought with it a strange +solemnity. It held the last breath of the dying day.</p> + +<p>The man and girl stood silent for a moment, contemplating the wonderful +vision. She looked into his face presently to find him sadly and +intently watching her. Wondering, she led the way downhill to where a +little boat lay with its bow upon the grassy sward which ran into the +water. Taking one seat, she motioned him to the other.</p> + +<p>"We have given you a Venetian water-color sunset," she said, smiling +away her embarrassment, "and now for a gondola ride." Lightly and +skillfully plying the paddle the little craft glided out upon the lake, +and presently, poising the blade she said, gayly:</p> + +<p>"Look down into the reflection, and then look up! Tell me, do you float +upon the lake or in the cloudy regions of heaven?" He followed her +directions. Then, looking steadily at her, he said, gently:</p> + +<p>"In heaven!" She bent over the boat side until her face was concealed, +letting her hand cool in the crimson water.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morgan," she said after awhile, looking up from under her lashes, +"are you a very earnest man? I do not think I know just how to take you. +I am afraid I am too matter-of-fact."</p> + +<p>He was feverish and still weighed down by his terrible memory. "I am +earnest now, whatever I may have been," he said, softly, "and believe +me, Miss Montjoy, something tells me that I will never be less than +earnest with you."</p> + +<p>She did not reply at once, but looked off into the cloudlands.</p> + +<p>"You have traveled much?" she said at length, to break the awkward +silence.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. I have never had what I could call a home and I have +moved about a great deal. Men of my acquaintance," he continued, +musingly, "have been ambitious in every line; I have watched them in +wonder. Most of them sacrifice what would have been my greatest pleasure +to possess—mother and sister and home. I cannot understand that phase +of life; I suppose I never will."</p> + +<p>"Then you have never known a mother?"</p> + +<p>"Never." There was something in his voice that touched her deeply.</p> + +<p>"To miss a mother's affection," she said, with a holy light in her brown +eyes, "is to miss the greatest gift heaven can bestow here. I suppose a +wife somehow takes a mother's place, finally, with every man, but she +cannot fill it. No woman that ever lived can fill my mother's place."</p> + +<p>Loyal little Mary! He fancied that as she thought upon her own remark +her sensitive lips curved slightly. His mind reverted to the sinister +face that they had left in the parlor.</p> + +<p>"Your mother!" he exclaimed, fervently; "would to heaven I had such a +mother!" He paused, overcome with emotion. She looked upon him with +swimming eyes.</p> + +<p>"You must come often, then," she said, softly, "and be much with us. I +will share her with you. Poor mamma! I am afraid—I am afraid for her!" +She covered her face with her hands suddenly and bowed her head.</p> + +<p>"Is she ill, so ill as all that?" he asked, greatly concerned.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! That is, her eyesight is failing; she does not realize it, but +Dr. Campbell has warned us to be careful."</p> + +<p>"What is the trouble?" He was now deeply distressed.</p> + +<p>"Glaucoma. The little nerve that leads from the cornea to the brain +finally dies away; there is no connection, and then——" she could not +conclude the sentence.</p> + +<p>Edward had never before been brought within the influence of such a +circle. Her words thrilled him beyond expression. He waited a little +while and said:</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you how much my short experience here has been to me. The +little touch of motherly interest, of home, has brought me more genuine +pleasure than I thought the world held for me. You said just now that +you would share the dear little mamma with me. I accept the generous +offer. And now you must share the care of the little mamma with me. Do +not be offended, but I know that the war has upset your revenues here in +the south, and that the new order of business has not reached a paying +basis. By no act of mine I am independent; I have few responsibilities. +Why may not I, why may not you and I take the little mamma to Paris and +let the best skill in the world be invoked to save her from sorrow?" He, +too, would not, after her failure, say "blindness."</p> + +<p>She looked at him through tears that threatened to get beyond control, +afraid to trust her voice.</p> + +<p>"You have not answered me," he said, gently. She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I cannot. I can never answer you as I would. But it cannot be, it +cannot be! If that course were necessary, we would have gone long ago, +for, while we are poor, Norton could have arranged it—he can can +arrange anything. But Dr. Campbell, you know, is famous for his skill. +He has even been called to Europe in consultation. He says there is no +cure, but care of the general health may avert the blow all her life. +And so we watch and wait."</p> + +<p>"Still," he urged, "there may be a mistake. And the sea voyage——"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "You are very, very kind, but it cannot be."</p> + +<p>It flashed over Edward then what that journey would have been. He, with +that sweet-faced girl, the little madonna of his memory, and the patient +mother! In his mind came back all the old familiar places; by his side +stood this girl, her hand upon his arm, her eyes upturned to his.</p> + +<p>And why not! A thrill ran through his heart: he could take his wife and +her mother to Paris! He started violently and leaned forward in the +boat, his glowing face turned full upon her, with an expression in it +that startled her.</p> + +<p>Then from it the color died away; a ghastly look overspread it. He +murmured aloud:</p> + +<p>"God be merciful! It cannot be." She smiled pitifully.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "it cannot be. But God is merciful. We trust Him. He +will order all things for the best!" Seeing his agitation she continued: +"Don't let it distress you so, Mr. Morgan. It may all come out happily. +See, the skies are quite clear now; the clouds all gone! I take it as a +happy augury!"</p> + +<p>Ashamed to profit by her reading of his feelings, he made a desperate +effort to respond to her new mood. She saw the struggle and aided him. +But in that hour the heart of Mary Montjoy went out for all eternity to +the man before her. Change, disaster, calumny, misfortune, would never +shake her faith and belief in him. He had lost in the struggle of the +preceding night, but here he had won that which death only could end, +and perhaps not death.</p> + +<p>Slowly they ascended the hill together, both silent and thoughtful. He +took her little hand to help her up the terraces, and, forgetting, held +it until, at the gate, she suddenly withdrew it in confusion and gazed +at him with startled eyes.</p> + +<p>The tall, soldierly form of the colonel, her father, stood at the top of +the steps.</p> + +<p>"See," said Edward, to relieve her confusion, "one of the old knights +guarding the castle!"</p> + +<p>And then she called out, gayly:</p> + +<p>"Sir knight, I bring you a prisoner." The old gentleman laughed and +entered into the pleasantry.</p> + +<p>"Well, he might have surrendered to a less fair captor! Enter, prisoner, +and proclaim your colors," Edward started, but recovered, and, looking +up boldly, said:</p> + +<p>"An honorable knight errant, but unknown until his vow is fulfilled." +They both applauded and the supper bell rang.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD SOUTH VERSUS THE NEW.</h3> + + +<p>Edward had intended returning to Ilexhurst after tea, but every one +inveighed against the announcement. Nonsense! The roads were bad, a +storm was possible, the way unfamiliar to him! John, the stable boy, had +reported a shoe lost from the horse! And besides, Norton would come out +and be disappointed at having missed him!</p> + +<p>And why go? Was the room upstairs not comfortable? He should have +another! Was the breakfast hour too early? His breakfast should be sent +to his room!</p> + +<p>Edward was in confusion. It was his first collision with the genuine, +unanswerable southern hospitality that survives the wreck of all things. +He hesitated and explained and explaining yielded.</p> + +<p>Supper over, the two gentlemen sat upon the veranda, a cool breeze +wandering in from the western rain area and rendering the evening +comfortable. Mary brought a great jar of delicious tobacco, home raised, +and a dozen corn-cob pipes, and was soon happy in their evident comfort. +As she held the lighter over Edward's pipe he ventured one glance upward +into her face, and was rewarded with a rare, mysterious smile. It was a +picture that clung to him for many years; the girlish face and tender +brown eyes in the yellow glare of the flame, the little hand lifted in +his service. It was the last view of her that night, for the southern +girl, out of the cities, is an early retirer.</p> + +<p>"The situation is somewhat strained," said the colonel; they had reached +politics; "there is a younger set coming on who seem to desire only to +destroy the old order of things. They have had the 'new south' dinged +into their ears until they had come to believe that the old south holds +nothing worth retaining. They are full of railroad schemes to rob the +people and make highways for tramps; of new towns and booms, of +colonization schemes, to bring paupers into the state and inject the +socialistic element of which the north and west are heartily tired. They +want to do away with cotton and plant the land in peaches, plums, +grapes," here he laughed softly, "and they want to give the nigger a +wheeled plow to ride on. It looks as if the whole newspaper fraternity +have gone crazy upon what they call intensive and diversified farming. +Not one of them has ever told me what there is besides cotton that can +be planted and will sell at all times upon the market and pay labor and +store accounts in the fall.</p> + +<p>"And now they have started in this country the 'no-fence' idea and are +about to destroy our cattle ranges," continued the colonel, excitedly. +"In addition to these, the farmers have some of them been led off into a +'populist' scheme, which in its last analysis means that the government +shall destroy corporations and pension farmers. In national politics we +have, besides, the silver question and the tariff, and a large element +in the state is ready for republicanism!"</p> + +<p>"That is the party of the north, I believe," said Edward.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the party that freed the negro and placed the ballot in his hands. +We are so situated here that practically our whole issue is 'white +against black.' We cannot afford to split on any question. We are +obliged to keep the south solid even at the expense of development and +prosperity. The south holds the Saxon blood in trust. Regardless of law, +of constitution, of both combined, we say it is her duty to keep the +blood of the race pure and uncontaminated. I am not prepared to say that +it has been done with entire success; two races cannot exist side by +side distinct. But the Spaniards kept their blue blood through +centuries!</p> + +<p>"The southern families will always be pure in this respect; they are +tenderly guarded," the colonel went on. "Other sections are in danger. +The white negro goes away or is sent away; he is unknown; he is changed +and finds a foothold somewhere. Then some day a family finds in its +folds a child with a dark streak down its spine—have you dropped your +pipe? The cobs really furnish our best smokers, but they are hard to +manage. Try another—and it was known that somewhere back in the past an +African taint has crept in."</p> + +<p>"You astound me," said Edward, huskily; "is that an infallible sign?"</p> + +<p>"Infallible, or, rather, indisputable if it exists. But its existence +under all circumstances is not assured."</p> + +<p>"And what, Mr. Montjoy, is the issue between you and Mr. Swearingen—I +understand that is his name—your opponent in the campaign for +nomination?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is hard to say. He has been in congress several terms and +thinks now he sees a change of sentiment. He has made bids for the +younger and dissatisfied vote. I think you may call it the old south +versus the new—and I stand for the old south."</p> + +<p>"Where does your campaign open? I was in England once during a political +campaign, about my only experience, if you except one or two incipient +riots in Paris, and I would be glad to see a campaign, in Georgia."</p> + +<p>"We open in Bingham. I am to speak there day after to-morrow and will be +pleased to have you go with us. A little party will proceed by private +conveyance from here—and Norton is probably detained in town to-night +by this matter. The county convention meets that day and it has been +agreed that Swearingen and I shall speak in the morning. The convention +will assemble at noon and make a nomination. In most counties primary +elections are held."</p> + +<p>"I shall probably not be able to go, but this county will afford me the +opportunity I desire. By the way, colonel, your friends will have many +expenses in this campaign, will they not? I trust you will number me +among them and not hesitate to call upon me for my share of the +necessary fund. I am a stranger, so to speak, but I represent John +Morgan until I can get my political bearings accurately adjusted." The +colonel was charmed.</p> + +<p>"Spoken like John himself!" he said. "We are proud, sir, to claim you as +one of us. As to the expenses, unfortunately, we have to rely on our +friends. But for the war, I could have borne it all; now my +circumstances are such that I doubt sometimes if I should in perfect +honor have accepted a nomination. It was forced on me, however. My +friends named me, published the announcement and adjourned. Before +heaven, I have no pleasure in it! I have lived here since childhood, +barring a term or two in congress before the war and four years with Lee +and Johnston, and my people were here before me. I would be glad to end +my days here and live out the intervening ones in sight of this porch. +But a man owes everything to his country."</p> + +<p>Edward did not comment upon the information; at that moment there was +heard the rumble of wheels. Norton, accompanied by a stranger, alighted +from a buggy and came rapidly up the walk. The colonel welcomed his son +with the usual affection and the stranger was introduced as Mr. Robley +of an adjoining county. The men fell to talking with suppressed +excitement over the political situation and the climax of it was that +Robley, a keen manager, revealed that he had come for $1,000 to secure +the county. He had but finished his information, when Norton broke in +hurriedly:</p> + +<p>"We know, father, that this is all outside your style of politics, and I +have told Mr. Robley that we cannot go into any bargain and sale +schemes, or anything that looks that way. We will pay our share of +legitimate expenses, printing, bands, refreshments and carriage hire, +and will not inquire too closely into rates, but that is as far——"</p> + +<p>"You are right, my son! If I am nominated it must be upon the ballots of +my friends. I shall not turn a hand except to lessen their necessary +expenses and to put our announcements before the public. I am sure that +this is all that Mr. Robley would consent to."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," said that gentleman. And then he looked helpless. +Edward had risen and was pacing the veranda, ready to withdraw from +hearing if the conversation became confidential. Norton was excitedly +explaining the condition of affairs in Robley's county, and that +gentleman found himself at leisure. Passing him Edward attracted his +attention.</p> + +<p>"You smoke, Mr. Robley?" He offered a cigar and nodded toward the far +end of the veranda. "I think you had better let Mr. Montjoy explain +matters to his father," he said. Robley joined him.</p> + +<p>"How much do you need?" said Edward; "the outside figure, I mean. In +other words, if we wanted to buy the county and be certain of getting +it, how much would it take?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five hundred—well, $3,000."</p> + +<p>"Let the matter drop here, you understand? Col. Montjoy is not in the +trade. I am acting upon my own responsibility. Call on me in town +to-morrow; I will put up the money. Now, not a word. We will go back." +They strolled forward and the discussion of the situation went on. +Robley grew hopeful and as they parted for the night whispered a few +words to Norton. As the latter carried the lamp to Edward's room, he +said:</p> + +<p>"What does this all mean; you and Robley——"</p> + +<p>"Simply," said Edward, "that I am in my first political campaign and to +win at any cost."</p> + +<p>Norton looked at him in amazement and then laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"You roll high! We shall win if you don't fail us."</p> + +<p>"Then you shall win." They shook hands and parted. Norton passing his +sister's room, paused in thought, knocked lightly, and getting no reply, +went to bed. Edward turned in, not to sleep. His mind in the silent +hours rehearsed its horrors. He arose at the sound of the first bell and +left for the city, not waiting for breakfast.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>FEELING THE ENEMY.</h3> + + +<p>Edward Morgan plunged into the campaign with an energy and earnestness +that charmed the younger Montjoy and astonished the elder. Headquarters +were opened, typewriters engaged, lists of prominent men and party +leaders obtained and letters written. Col. Montjoy was averse to writing +to his many personal friends in the district anything more than a formal +announcement of his candidacy over his own signature.</p> + +<p>"That is all right, father, but if you intend to stick to that idea the +way to avoid defeat is to come down now." But the old gentleman +continued to use his own form of letter. It read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My Dear Sir: I beg leave to call your attention to my +announcement in the Journal of this city, under date of July +13, wherein, in response to the demands of friends, I consented +to the use of my name in the nomination for congressman to +represent this district. With great respect, I am, sir, your +obedient servant,</p> + +<p>"Norton L. Montjoy."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He dictated this letter, gave the list to the typewriter, and announced +that when the letters were ready he would sign them. The son looked at +him quizzically:</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble about that, father. You must leave this office work to +us. I can sign your name better than you can. If you will get out and +see the gentlemen about the cotton warehouses you can help us +wonderfully. You can handle them better than anybody in the world." The +colonel smiled indulgently on his son and went off. He was proud of the +success and genius of his one boy, when not grieved at his departure +from the old-school dignity. And then Norton sat down and began to +dictate the correspondence, with the list to guide him.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Jim," he began, selecting a well-known friend of his +father, and a companion in arms. "You have probably noticed in +the Journal the announcement of my candidacy for the +congressional nomination. The boys of the old 'Fire-Eaters' did +eat. I am counting on you; you stood by me at Seven Pines, +Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville and a dozen other tight +places, and I have no fear but that your old colonel will find +you with him in this issue. It is the old south against the +riffraff combination of carpetbaggers, scalawags and jaybirds +who are trying to betray us into the hands of the enemy! My +opponent, Swearingen, is a good man in his way, but in devilish +bad company. See Lamar of Company C, Sims, Ellis, Smith and all +the old guard. Tell them I am making the stand of my life! My +best respects to the madam and the grandchildren! God bless +you. Do the best you can. Yours fraternally,</p> + +<p>"N. L. Montjoy."</p> + +<p>"P. S. Arrange for me to speak at your court house some day +soon. Get an early convention called. We fight better on a +charge—old Stonewall's way.</p> + +<p>"N. L. M."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This letter brought down the house; the house in this instance standing +for a small army of committeemen gathered at headquarters. Norton was +encouraged to try again.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The Rev. Andrew Paton, D. D.—Dear Andrew: I am out for +congress and need you. Of course we can't permit you to take +your sacred robes into the mire of politics, but, Andrew, we +were boys together, before you were so famous, and I know that +nothing I can bring myself to ask of you can be refused. A word +from you in many quarters will help. The madam joins me in +regards to you and yours. Sincerely.</p> + +<p>"N. L. Montjoy."</p> + +<p>"P. S. Excuse this typewritten letter, but my hand is old, and +I cannot wield the pen as I did when we put together that first +sermon of yours.</p> + +<p>"M."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This was an addendum in "the colonel's own handwriting" and it closed +with "pray for me." The letter was vociferously applauded and passers-by +looked up in the headquarters windows curiously. These addenda in the +colonel's own handwriting tickled Norton's fancy. He played upon every +string in the human heart. When he got among the masons he staggered a +little, but managed to work in something about "upright, square and +level." "If I could only have got a few signals from the old gentleman," +he said, gayly, "I would get the lodges out in a body."</p> + +<p>Norton was everywhere during the next ten days. He kept four typewriters +busy getting out "personal" letters, addressing circulars and marking +special articles that had appeared in the papers. One of his sayings +that afterward became a political maxim was: "If you want the people to +help you, let them hear from you before election." And in this instance +they heard.</p> + +<p>Within a few days a great banner was stretched across the street from +the headquarters window, and a band wagon, drawn by four white horses, +carried a brass band and flags bearing the legend:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Montjoy at the Court House<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saturday Night."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Little boys distributed dodgers.</p> + +<p>Edward, taking the cue, entered with equal enthusiasm into the comedy. +He wanted to do the right thing, and he had formed an exaggerated idea +of the influence of money in political campaigns. He hung a placard at +the front door of the Montjoy headquarters that read:</p> + +<p>"One thousand dollars to five hundred that Montjoy is nominated."</p> + +<p>He placed a check to back it in the secretary's hands. This announcement +drew a crowd and soon afterward a quiet-appearing man came in and said:</p> + +<p>"I have the money to cover that bet. Name a stake-holder."</p> + +<p>One was named. Edward was flushed with wine and enthused by the friendly +comments his bold wager had drawn out.</p> + +<p>"Make it $2,000 to $1,000?" he asked the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Well," was the reply, "it goes."</p> + +<p>"Make it $10,000 to $5,000?" said Edward.</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand to four thousand?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand to three thousand?"</p> + +<p>"No!" The stranger smiled nervously and, saluting, withdrew. The crowd +cheered until the sidewalk was blockaded. The news went abroad: "Odds of +300 to 100 have been offered on Montjoy, and no takers."</p> + +<p>Edward's bet had the effect of precipitating the campaign in the home +county; it had been opening slowly, despite the rush at the Montjoy +headquarters. The Swearingen men were experienced campaigners and worked +more by quiet organization than display. Such men know when to make the +great stroke in a campaign. The man who had attempted to call young +Morgan's hand had little to do with the management of the Swearingen +campaign, but was engaged in a speculation of his own, acting upon a +hint.</p> + +<p>But the show of strength at the Montjoy headquarters was at once used by +the Swearingen men to stir their friends to action, lest they be bluffed +out of the fight. Rival bands were got out, rival placards appeared and +handbills were thrown into every yard.</p> + +<p>And then came the first personalities, but directed at Edward only. An +evening paper said that "A late citizen, after half a century of +honorable service, and although but recently deceased, seemed to have +fallen into betting upon mundane elections by proxy." And elsewhere: "A +certain class of people and their uncle's money are soon divorced." Many +others followed upon the same line, clearly indicating Edward Morgan, +and with street-corner talk soon made him a central figure among the +Montjoy forces. Edward saw none of these paragraphs, nor did he hear the +gossip of the city.</p> + +<p>This continued for days; in the meantime Edward took Norton home with +him at night and generally one or two others accompanied them. Finally +it came to be settled that Norton and Edward were old friends, and the +friends of Montjoy senior looked on and smiled.</p> + +<p>The other side simply sneered, swore and waited.</p> + +<p>Information of these things reached Mary Montjoy. Annie, the +sister-in-law, came into the city and met her cousin, Amos Royson, the +wild horseman who collided with the Montjoy team upon the night of +Edward's first appearance. This man was one of the Swearingen managers. +His relationship to Annie Montjoy gave him entrance to the family +circle, and he had been for two years a suitor for Mary's hand.</p> + +<p>Royson took a seat in the vehicle beside his cousin and turned the +horse's head toward the park. Annie Montjoy saw that he was in an ugly +mood, and divined the reason. She possessed to a remarkable degree the +power of mind-reading and she knew Amos Royson better than he knew +himself.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about this Edward Morgan, who is making such a fool of +himself," he said abruptly. "He is injuring Col. Montjoy's chances more +than we could ever hope to, and is really the best ally we have!"</p> + +<p>She smiled as she looked upon him from under the sleepy lids, "Why, +then, are you not pleased?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you know, Annie, the unfortunate fact remains that you are +one of the family. I hate to see you mixed up in this matter and a +sharer in the family's downfall."</p> + +<p>"You do not think enough of me to keep out of the way."</p> + +<p>"I cannot control the election, Annie. Swearingen will be elected with +or without my help. But you know my whole future depends upon +Swearingen. Who is Edward Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Edward Morgan! Well, you know, he is old John Morgan's heir, and +that is all I know; but," and she laughed maliciously, "he is what +Norton calls 'a rusher,' not only in politics, but elsewhere. He has +seen Mary, and—now you know why he is so much interested in this +election." Amos turned fiercely upon her and involuntarily drew the +reins until the horse stopped. He felt the innuendo and forgot the +thrust.</p> + +<p>"You cannot mean——" he began, and then paused, for in her eyes was a +triumph so devilish, so malicious, that even he, knowing her well, could +not bring himself to gratify it. He knew that she had never forgiven him +for his devotion to Mary.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I mean it! If ever two people were suddenly, hopelessly, foolishly +infatuated with each other that same little hypocritical chit and this +stranger are the two. He is simply trying to put his intended +father-in-law into congress. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>The man's face was white and only with difficulty could he guide the +animal he was driving. She continued, with a sudden exhibition of +passion: "And Mary! Oh, you should just hear her say 'Ilexhurst'! She +will queen it out there with old Morgan's money and heir, and we——" +she laughed bitterly, "we will stay out yonder, keep a mule boarding +house and nurse sick niggers—that is all it amounts to; they raise corn +half the year and hire hands to feed it out the other half; and the +warehouses get the cotton. In the meantime, I am stuck away out of sight +with my children!" Royson thought over this outburst and then said +gravely:</p> + +<p>"You have not yet answered my question. Who is Edward Morgan—where did +he come from?"</p> + +<p>"Go ask John Morgan," she said, scornfully and maliciously. He studied +long the painted dashboard in front of him, and then, in a sort of awe, +looked into her face:</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Annie?" She would not turn back; she met his gaze +with determination.</p> + +<p>"Old Morgan has educated and maintained him abroad all his life. He has +never spoken of him to anybody. You know what stories they used to tell +of John Morgan. Can't you see? Challenged to prove his legal right to +his name he couldn't do it." The words were out. The jealous woman took +the lines from his hands and said, sneeringly: "You are making a fool of +yourself, Amos, by your driving, and attracting attention. Where do you +want to get out? I am going back uptown." He did not reply. Dazed by the +fearful hint he sat looking ahead. When she drew rein at a convenient +corner he alighted. There was a cruel light in his gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"Annie," he said, "the defeat of Col. Montjoy lies in your information."</p> + +<p>"Let it," she exclaimed, recklessly. "He has no more business in +congress than a child. And for the other matter, I have myself and my +children's name to protect."</p> + +<p>And yet she was not entirely without caution. She continued:</p> + +<p>"What I have told you is a mere hint. It must not come back to me nor +get in print." She drove away. With eyes upon the ground Royson walked +to his office.</p> + +<p>Amos Royson was of the new south entirely, but not its best +representative. His ambition was boundless; there was nothing he would +have left undone to advance himself politically. His thought as he +walked back to his office was upon the words of his cousin. In what +manner could this frightful hint be made effective without danger of +reaction? At this moment he met the man he was plotting to destroy, +walking rapidly toward the postoffice with Norton Montjoy. The latter +saluted him, gayly, as he passed:</p> + +<p>"Hello, Amos! We have you on the run, my boy!" Amos made no reply to +Norton, nor to Edward's conventional bow. As they passed he noted the +latter's form and poetical face, then somewhat flushed with excitement, +and seemed to form a mental estimate of him.</p> + +<p>"Cold-blooded devil, that fellow Royson," said Norton, as he ran over +his letters before mailing them; "stick a knife in you in a minute."</p> + +<p>But Royson walked on. Once he turned, looked back and smiled +sardonically. "They are both in a bad fix," he said, half-aloud. "The +man who has to look out for Annie is to be pitied."</p> + +<p>At home Annie gave a highly colored account of all she had heard in town +about Edward, made up chiefly of boasts of friends who supposed that her +interest in Col. Montjoy's nomination was genuine, of Norton's report +and the sneers of enemies, including Royson. These lost nothing in the +way of color at her hands. Mary sought her room and after efforts sealed +for Edward this letter:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"You can never know how grateful we all are for your interest +and help, but our gratitude would be incomplete if I failed to +tell you that there is danger of injuring yourself in your +generous enthusiasm. You must not forget that papa has enemies +who will become yours. This we would much regret, for you have +so much need of friends. Do not put faith in too many people, +and come out here when you feel the need of rest. I cannot +write much that I would like to tell you. Your friend,</p> + +<p>"Mary Montjoy."</p> + +<p>"P. S. Amos Royson is your enemy and he is a dangerous man."</p></blockquote> + +<p>When Edward received this, as he did next day by the hand of Col. +Montjoy, he was thrilled with pleasure and then depressed with a sudden +memory. That day he was so reckless that even Norton felt compelled, +using his expression, "to call him down."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD SOUTH DRAWS THE SWORD.</h3> + + +<p>When Royson reached his office he quietly locked himself in, and, +lighting a cigar, threw himself into his easy-chair. He recalled with +carefulness the minutest facts of his interview with Annie Montjoy, from +the moment he seated himself beside her, until his departure. Having +established these in mind he began the course of reasoning he always +pursued in making an estimate of testimony. The basis of his cousin's +action did not call for much attention; he knew her well. She was as +ambitious as Lucifer and possessed that peculiar defect which would +explain so many women if given proper recognition—lack of ability to +concede equal merit to others. They can admit no uninvited one to their +plane; not even an adviser. They demand flattery as a plant demands +nitrogen, and cannot survive the loss of attention.</p> + +<p>And, reading deeper, Royson saw that the steadfast, womanly soul of the +sister-in-law had, even in the knowledge of his cousin, over-shadowed +hers until she resented even the old colonel's punctilious courtesy; +that in her heart she raged at his lack of informality and accused him +of resting upon the young girl. If she had been made much of, set up as +a divinity, appealed to and suffered to rule, all would have been fair +and beautiful. And then the lawyer smiled and said aloud to that other +self, with whom he communed: "For a while." Such was the woman.</p> + +<p>Long he sat, studying the situation. Once he arose and paced the floor, +beating his fist into his hand and grinding his teeth.</p> + +<p>"Both or none!" he cried, at last. "If Montjoy is nominated I am +shelved; and as for Mary, there have been Sabine women in all ages."</p> + +<p>That night the leaders of the opposition met in secret caucus, called +together by Royson. When, curious and attentive, they assembled in his +private office, he addressed them:</p> + +<p>"I have, gentlemen, to-day found myself in a very embarrassing position; +a very painful one. You all know my devotion to our friend; I need not +say, therefore, that here to-night the one overpowering cause of the +action which I am about to take is my loyalty to him. To-day, from a +source I am not at liberty to state here, I was placed in possession of +a fact which, if used, practically ends this campaign. You must none of +you express a doubt, nor must any one question me upon the subject. The +only question to be discussed is, shall we make use of the fact—and +how?" He waited a moment until the faces of the committee betrayed their +deep interest.</p> + +<p>"Whom do you consider in this city the most powerful single man behind +the movement to nominate Montjoy?"</p> + +<p>"Morgan," said one, promptly. It was their unanimous judgment.</p> + +<p>"Correct! This man, with his money and zeal, has made our chances +uncertain if not desperate, and this man," he continued, excitedly, "who +is posing before the public and offering odds of three to one against us +with old Morgan's money, is not a white man!"</p> + +<p>He had leaned over the table and concluded his remarks in almost a +whisper. A painful silence followed, during which the excited lawyer +glared inquiringly into the faces turned in horror upon him. "Do you +understand?" he shouted at last. They understood.</p> + +<p>A southern man readily takes a hint upon such a matter. These men sat +silent, weighing in their minds the final effect of this announcement. +Royson did not give them long to consider.</p> + +<p>"I am certain of this, so certain that if you think best I will publish +the fact to-morrow and assume the whole responsibility." There was but +little doubt remaining then. But the committee seemed weighed upon +rather than stirred by the revelation; they spoke in low tones to each +other. There was no note of triumph in any voice. They were men.</p> + +<p>Presently the matter took definite shape. An old man arose and addressed +his associates:</p> + +<p>"I need not say, gentlemen, that I am astonished by this information, +and you will pardon me if I do say I regret that it seems true. As far +as I am concerned I am opposed to its use. It is a very difficult matter +to prove. Mr. Royson's informant may be mistaken, and if proof was not +forthcoming a reaction would ruin our friend." No one replied, although +several nodded their heads. At length Royson spoke:</p> + +<p>"The best way to reach the heart of this matter is to follow out in your +minds a line of action. Suppose in a speech I should make the +charge—what would be the result?"</p> + +<p>"You would be at once challenged!" Royson smiled.</p> + +<p>"Who would bear the challenge?"</p> + +<p>"One of the Montjoys would be morally compelled to."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I convince the bearer that a member of his family was my +authority?" Then they began to get a glimpse of the depth of the plot. +One answered:</p> + +<p>"He would be obliged to withdraw!"</p> + +<p>"Exactly! And who else after that would take Montjoy's place? Or how +could Montjoy permit the duel to go on? And if he did find a fool to +bring his challenge, I could not, for the reason given in the charge, +meet his principal!"</p> + +<p>"A court of honor might compel you to prove your charge, and then you +would be in a hole. That is, unless you could furnish proof."</p> + +<p>"And still," said Royson, "there would be no duel, because there would +be no second. And you understand, gentlemen," he continued, smiling, +"that all this would not postpone the campaign. Before the court of +honor could settle the matter the election would have been held. You can +imagine how that election would go when it is known that Montjoy's +campaign manager and right-hand man is not white. This man is +hail-fellow-well-met with young Montjoy; a visitor in his home and is +spending money like water. What do you suppose the country will say when +these facts are handled on the stump? Col. Montjoy is ignorant of it, we +know, but he will be on the defensive from the day the revelation is +made.</p> + +<p>"I have said my action is compelled by my loyalty to Swearingen, and I +reiterate it, but we owe something to the community, to the white race, +to good morals and posterity. And if I am mistaken in my proofs, +gentlemen, why, then, I can withdraw my charge. It will not affect the +campaign already over. But I will not have to withdraw."</p> + +<p>"As far as I am concerned," said another gentleman, rising and speaking +emphatically, "this is a matter upon which, under the circumstances, I +do not feel called to vote! I cannot act without full information! The +fact is, I am not fond of such politics! If Mr. Royson has proofs that +he cannot use publicly or here, the best plan would be to submit them to +Col. Montjoy and let him withdraw, or pull off his lieutenant." He +passed out and several with him. Royson argued with the others, but one +by one they left him. He was bursting with rage.</p> + +<p>"I will determine for myself!" he said, "the victory shall rest in me!"</p> + +<p>Then came the speech of the campaign at the court house. The relations +of Col. Montjoy, his family friends, people connected with him in the +remotest degree by marriage, army friends, members of the bar, +merchants, warehousemen and farmers generally, and a large sprinkling of +personal and political enemies of Swearingen made up the vast crowd.</p> + +<p>In the rear of the hall, a smile upon his face, was Amos Royson. And yet +the secret glee in his heart, the knowledge that he, one man in all that +throng, by a single sentence could check the splendid demonstration and +sweep the field, was clouded. It came to him that no other member of the +Montjoy clan was a traitor. Nowhere is the family tie so strong as in +the south, and only the power of his ambition could have held him aloof. +Swearingen had several times represented the district in Congress; it +was his turn when the leader moved on. This had been understood for +years by the political public. In the meantime he had been state's +attorney and there were a senatorship, a judgeship and possibly the +governorship to be grasped. He could not be expected to sacrifice his +career upon the altar of kinship remote. Indeed, was it not the duty of +Montjoy to stand aside for the sake of a younger man? Was it not true +that a large force in his nomination had been the belief that +Swearingen's right-hand man would probably be silenced thereby? It had +been a conspiracy.</p> + +<p>These thoughts ran through his mind as he stood watching the gathering.</p> + +<p>On the stage sat Edward Morgan, a prominent figure and one largely +scanned by the public; and Royson saw his face light up and turn to a +private box; saw his smile and bow. A hundred eyes were turned with his, +and discovered there, half concealed by the curtains, the face of Mary +Montjoy. The public jumped to the conclusion that had previously been +forced on him.</p> + +<p>Over Royson's face surged a wave of blood; a muttered oath drew +attention to him and he changed his position. He saw the advancing +figure of Gen. Evan and heard his introductory speech. The morning paper +said it was the most eloquent ever delivered on such an occasion; and +all that the speaker said was:</p> + +<p>"Fellow-citizens, I have the honor to introduce to you this evening Col. +Norton Montjoy. Hear him."</p> + +<p>His rich bass voice rolled over the great audience; he extended his arm +toward the orator of the evening, and retired amid thunders of applause. +Then came Col. Montjoy.</p> + +<p>The old south was famous for its oratory. It was based upon personal +independence, upon family pride and upon intellect unhampered by +personal toil in uncongenial occupations; and lastly upon sentiment. +Climate may have entered into it; race and inheritance undoubtedly did. +The southern orator was the feature of congressional displays, and back +in congressional archives lie orations that vie with the best of Athens +and of Rome. But the flavor, the spectacular effects, linger only in the +memory of the rapidly lessening number who mingled deeply in ante-bellum +politics. No pen could have faithfully preserved this environment.</p> + +<p>So with the oration that night in the opening of the Montjoy campaign. +It was not transmissible. Only the peroration need be reproduced here:</p> + +<p>"God forbid!" he said in a voice now husky with emotion and its long +strain, "God forbid that the day shall come when the south will +apologize for her dead heroes! Stand by your homes; stand by your +traditions; keep our faith in the past as bright as your hopes for the +future! No stain rests upon the honor of your fathers! Transmit their +memories and their virtues to posterity as its best inheritance! Defend +your homes and firesides, remembering always that the home, the family +circle, is the fountain head of good government! Let none enter there +who are unclean. Keep it the cradle of liberty and the hope of the +English race on this continent, the shrine of religion, of beauty, of +purity!"</p> + +<p>He closed amid a tumult of enthusiasm. Men stood on chairs to cheer; +ladies wept and waved their handkerchiefs, and then over all arose the +strange melody that no southern man can sit quiet under. "Dixie" rang +out amid a frenzy of emotion. Veterans hugged each other. The old +general came forward and clasped hands with his comrade, the band +changing to "Auld Lang Syne." People crowded on the stage and outside +the building the drifting crowd filled the air with shouts.</p> + +<p>The last man to rise from his seat was Edward Morgan. Lost in thought, +his face lowered, he sat until some one touched him on the shoulder and +called him back to the present. And out in the audience, clinging to a +post, to resist the stream of humanity, passing from the aisles, his +eyes strained forward, heedless of the banter and jeers poured upon him, +Royson watched as best he could every shade upon the stranger's face. A +cry burst from his lips. "It was true!" he said, and dashed from the +hall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>"IN ALL THE WORLD, NO FAIRER FLOWER THAN THIS!"</h3> + + +<p>The city was in a whirl on election day; hacks and carriages darted here +and there all day long, bearing flaming placards and hauling voters to +the polls. Bands played at the Montjoy headquarters and everything to +comfort the inner patriot was on hand.</p> + +<p>Edward had taken charge of this department and at his own expense +conducted it. He was the host. All kinds of wines and liquors and malt +drinks, a constantly replenished lunch, that amounted to a banquet, and +cigars, were at all hours quickly served by a corps of trained waiters. +In all their experience, old election stagers declared never had this +feature of election day been so complete. It goes without saying that +Montjoy's headquarters were crowded and that a great deal of the +interest which found expression in the streets was manufactured there.</p> + +<p>It was a fierce struggle; the Swearingen campaign in the county had been +conducted on the "still-hunt" plan, and on this day his full strength +was polled. It was Montjoy's home county, and if it could be carried +against him, the victory was won at the outset.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the Montjoy people sought for the moral effect of an +overwhelming victory. There was an expression of general relief in the +form of cheers, when the town clocks struck five and the polls windows +fell. Anxiety followed, and then bonfires blazed, rockets exploded and +all night long the artillery squad fired salutes. Montjoy had won by an +unlooked-for majority and the vote of the largest county was secure.</p> + +<p>Edward had resolutely refused to think upon the discovery unfolded to +him. With reckless disregard for the future he had determined to bury +the subject until the arrival of Virdow. But there are ghosts that will +not come down at the bidding, and so in the intervals of sleep, of +excitement, of politics, the remembrance of the fearful fate that +threatened him came up with all the force and terror of a new +experience.</p> + +<p>Ilexhurst was impossible to him alone and he held to Norton as long as +he could. There was to be a few days' rest after the home election, and +the younger Montjoy seized this opportunity to run home and, as he +expressed it, "get acquainted with the family." Edward, without +hesitation, accepted his invitation to go with him. They had become firm +friends now and Edward stood high in the family esteem. Reviewing the +work that had led up to Col. Montjoy's magnificent opening and oration, +all generously conceded that he had been the potent factor.</p> + +<p>It was not true, in fact; the younger Montjoy had been the genius of the +hour, but Edward's aid and money had been necessary. The two men were +received as conquering heroes. As she held his hand in hers old Mrs. +Montjoy said:</p> + +<p>"You have done us a great service, Mr. Morgan, and we cannot forget it," +and Mary, shy and happy, had smiled upon him and uttered her thanks. +There was one discordant note, the daughter-in-law had been silent until +all were through.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose I am to thank you, Mr. Morgan, that Norton has returned +alive. I did not know you were such high livers over at Ilexhurst," she +smiled, maliciously. "Were you not afraid of ghosts?"</p> + +<p>Edward looked at her with ill-disguised hatred. For the first time he +realized fully that he was dealing with a dangerous enemy. How much did +she know? He could make nothing of that serenely tranquil face. He bowed +only. She was his friend's wife.</p> + +<p>But he was not at ease beneath her gaze and readily accepted Mary's +invitation to ride. She was going to carry a note from her father to a +neighbor, and the chance of seeing the country was one he should not +neglect. They found a lazy mule and ancient country buggy at the door. +He thought of the outfit of the sister-in-law. "Annie has a pony phaeton +that is quite stylish," said Mary, laughingly, as they entered the old +vehicle, "but it is only for town use; this is mine and papa's!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly roomy and safe," he said. She laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"I will remember that; so many people have tried to say something +comforting about my turnout and failed; but it does well enough." They +were off then, Edward driving awkwardly. It was the first time he had +ever drawn the reins over a mule.</p> + +<p>"How do you make it go fast?" he asked, finally, in despair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," she answered, "we don't try. We know the mule." Her laugh +was infectious.</p> + +<p>They traveled the public roads, with their borders of wild grape, +crossed gurgling streams under festoons of vines and lingered in shady +vistas of overhanging boughs. Several times they boldly entered private +grounds and passed through back yards without hailing, and at last they +came to their destination.</p> + +<p>There were two huge stone posts at the entrance, with carved balls of +granite upon them. A thick tangle of muscadine and Cherokee roses led +off from them right and left, hiding the trail of the long-vanished rail +fence. In front was an avenue of twisted cedars, and, closing the +perspective, a glimpse of white columns and green blinds.</p> + +<p>The girl's face was lighted with smiles; it was for her a new +experience, this journeying with a man alone; his voice melodious in her +hearing; his eyes exchanging with hers quick understandings, for Edward +was happy that morning—happy in his forgetfulness. He had thrown off +the weight of misery successfully, and for the first time in his life +there was really a smile in his heart. It was the dream of an hour; he +would not mar it. Her voice recalled him.</p> + +<p>"I have always loved 'The Cedars.' It wears such an air of gentility and +refinement. It must be that something of the lives gone by clings to +these old places."</p> + +<p>"Whose is it?" She turned in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is where we were bound—Gen. Evan's. I have a note for him."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" The exclamation was one of awe rather than wonder. She saw him +start violently and grow pale. "Evan?" he said, with emotion.</p> + +<p>"You know him?"</p> + +<p>"Not I." He felt her questioning gaze and looked into her face. "That +is, I have been introduced to him, only, and I have heard him speak." +After a moment's reflection: "Sometime, perhaps, I shall tell you why +for the moment I was startled." She could not understand his manner. +Fortunately they had arrived at the house. Confused still, he followed +her up the broad steps to the veranda and saw her lift the antique +knocker.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, de general's home; walk in, ma'am; find him right back in +the liberry." With that delightful lack of formality common among +intimate neighbors in the south, Mary led the way in. She made a pretty +picture as she paused at the door. The sun was shining through the +painted window and suffused her form with roseate light.</p> + +<p>"May I come in?"</p> + +<p>"Well! Well! Well!" The old man rose with a great show of welcome and +came forward. "'May I come in?' How d'ye do, Mary, God bless you, child; +yes, come clear in," he said, laughing, and bestowed a kiss upon her +lips. At that moment he caught sight of the face of Edward, who stood +behind her, pale from the stream of light that came from a white crest +in the window. The two men gazed steadily into each other's eyes a +moment only. The girl began:</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Morgan, general, who has been such a friend to father."</p> + +<p>The rugged face of the old soldier lighted up, he took the young man's +hands in both of his and pressed them warmly.</p> + +<p>"I have already met Mr. Morgan. The friend of my friend is welcome to +'The Cedars'." He turned to move chairs for them.</p> + +<p>The face of the young man grew white as he bowed gravely. There had been +a recognition, but no voice spoke from the far-away past through his +lineaments to that lonely old man. During the visit he was distrait and +embarrassed. The courtly attention of his host and his playful gallantry +with Mary awoke no smile upon his lips. Somewhere a barrier had fallen +and the waters of memory had rushed in. Finally he was forced to arouse +himself.</p> + +<p>"John Morgan was a warm friend of mine at one time," said the old +general. "How was he related to you?"</p> + +<p>"Distantly," said Edward quietly. "I was an orphan, and indebted to him +for everything."</p> + +<p>"An eccentric man, but John had a good heart—errors like the rest of +us, of course." The general's face grew sad for the moment, but he +rallied and turned the conversation to the political campaign.</p> + +<p>"A grand speech that, Mr. Morgan; I have never heard a finer, and I have +great speakers in my day! Our district will be well and honorably +represented in Congress. Now, our little friend here will go to +Washington and get her name into the papers."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. If papa wins I am going to stay with mamma. I am going to +be her eyes as well as her hands. Mamma would not like the city."</p> + +<p>"And how is the little mamma?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "Not so well and her eyes trouble her very much."</p> + +<p>"What a sweet woman she is! I can never forget the night Norton led her +to the altar. I have never seen a fairer sight—until now," he +interpolated, smiling and saluting Mary with formal bow. "She had a +perfect figure and her walk was the exposition of grace." Mary surveyed +him with swimming eyes. She went up and kissed him lightly. He detained +her a moment when about to take her departure.</p> + +<p>"You are a fortunate man, Morgan. In all the world you will find no +rarer flower than this. I envy you your ride home. Come again, Mary, and +bring Mr. Morgan with you." She broke loose from him and darted off in +confusion. He had guessed her secret and well was it that he had!</p> + +<p>The ride home was as a dream. The girl was excited and full of life and +banter and Edward, throwing off his sadness, had entered into the hour +of happiness with the same abandon that marked his campaign with Norton.</p> + +<p>But as they entered the long stretch of wood through which their road +ran to her home, Edward brought back the conversation to the general.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mary, "he lives quite alone, a widower, but beloved by every +one. It is an old, sad story, but his daughter eloped just before the +war broke out and went abroad. He has never heard from her, it is +supposed."</p> + +<p>"I have heard the fact mentioned," said Morgan, "and also that she was +to have married my relative."</p> + +<p>"I did not know that," she said, "but it is a great sorrow to the +general, and a girl who could give up such a man must have been wrong at +heart or infatuated."</p> + +<p>"Infatuated, let us hope."</p> + +<p>"That is the best explanation," she said gently.</p> + +<p>He was driving; in a few moments he would arrive at the house. Should he +tell her the history of Gerald and let her clear, honest mind guide him? +Should he tell her that Fate had made him the custodian of the only +being in the world who had a right to that honorable name when the +veteran back yonder found his last camp and crossed the river to rest in +the shade with the immortal Jackson? He turned to her and she met his +earnest gaze with a winning smile, but at the moment something in his +life cried out. The secret was as much his duty as the ward himself and +to confess to her his belief that Gerald was the son of Marion Evan was +to confess to himself that he was the son of the octoroon. He would not. +Her smile died away before the misery in his face.</p> + +<p>"You are ill," she said in quick sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, faintly; "yes and no. The loss of +sleep—excitement—your southern sun——" The world grew black and he +felt himself falling. In the last moment of his consciousness he +remembered that her arm was thrown about him and that in response to her +call for help negroes from the cotton fields came running.</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes. They rested upon the chintz curtains of the room +upstairs, from the window of which he had heard her voice calling the +chickens. Some one was bathing his forehead; there were figures gliding +here and there across his vision. He turned his eyes and saw the anxious +face of Mrs. Montjoy watching him.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" He spoke in wonder.</p> + +<p>"Hush, now, my boy; you have been very ill; you must not talk!" He tried +to lift his hand. It seemed made of lead and not connected with him in +any way. Gazing helplessly upon it, he saw that it was thin and +white—the hand of an invalid.</p> + +<p>"How long?" he asked, after a rest. The slight effort took his strength.</p> + +<p>"Three weeks." Three weeks! This was more than he could adjust in the +few working sections of his brain. He ceased to try and closed his eyes +in sleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>BEYOND THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT.</h3> + + +<p>It had been brain fever. For ten days Edward was helpless, but under the +care of the two loving women he rapidly recovered. The time came when he +could sit in the cool of the evening upon the veranda and listen to the +voices he had learned to love—for he no longer disguised the truth from +himself. The world held for him but one dream, through it and in the +spell of his first home life the mother became a being to be reverenced. +She was the fulfilled promise of the girl, all the tender experiences of +life were pictured in advance for him who should win her hand and heart.</p> + +<p>But it was only a dream. During the long hours of the night as he lay +wakeful, with no escape from himself, he thought out the situation and +made up his mind to action. He would go to Col. Montjoy and confess the +ignorance of his origin that overwhelmed him and then he would provide +for his ward and go away with Virdow to the old world and the old life.</p> + +<p>The mental conclusion of his plan was a species of settlement. It helped +him. Time and again he cried out, when the remembrance came back to him, +but it was the honorable course and he would follow it. He would go +away.</p> + +<p>The hours of his convalescence were the respite he allowed himself. Day +by day he said: "I will go to-morrow." In the morning it was still +"to-morrow." And when he finally made his announcement he was promptly +overruled. Col. Montjoy and Norton were away, speaking and campaigning. +All primaries had been held but two. The colonel's enemies had conceded +to him of the remaining counties the remote one. The other was a county +with a large population and cast four votes in the convention. It was +the home of Swearingen, but, as frequently happens, it was the scene of +the candidate's greatest weakness. There the struggle was to be titanic. +Both counties were needed to nominate Montjoy.</p> + +<p>The election took place on the day of Edward's departure for Ilexhurst. +That evening he saw a telegram announcing that the large county had +given its vote to Montjoy by a small majority. The remote county had but +one telegraph office, and that at a way station upon its border. Little +could be heard from it, but the public conceded Col. Montjoy's +nomination, since there had been no doubt as to this county. Edward +hired a horse, put a man upon it, sent the news to the two ladies and +then went to his home.</p> + +<p>He found awaiting him two letters of importance. One from Virdow, saying +he would sail from Havre on the 25th; that was twelve days previous. He +was therefore really due at Ilexhurst then. The other was a letter he +had written to Abingdon soon after his first arrival, and was marked +"returned to writer." He wondered at this. The address was the same he +had used for years in his correspondence. Although Abingdon was +frequently absent from England, the letters had always reached him. Why, +then, was this one not forwarded? He put it aside and ascertained that +Virdow had not arrived at the house.</p> + +<p>It was then 8 o'clock in the evening. By his order a telephone had been +placed in the house, and he at once rang up the several hotels. Virdow +was found to be at one of these, and he succeeded in getting that +distinguished gentleman to connect himself with the American invention +and explained to him the situation.</p> + +<p>"Take any hack and come at once," was the message that concluded their +conversation, and Virdow came! In the impulsive continental style, he +threw himself into Edward's arms when the latter opened the door of the +carriage.</p> + +<p>Slender, his thin black clothes hanging awkwardly upon him, his trousers +too short, the breadth of his round German face, the knobs on his +shining bald forehead exaggerated by the puffy gathering of the hair +over his ears, his candid little eyes shining through the round, +double-power glasses, his was a figure one had to know for a long time +in order to look upon it without smiling.</p> + +<p>Long the two sat with their cigars and ran over the old days together. +Then the professor told of wondrous experiments in sound, of the advance +knowledge into the regions of psychology, of the marvels of heredity. +His old great theme was still his ruling passion. "If the mind has no +memory, then much of the phenomena of life is worse than bewildering. +Prove its memory," he was wont to say, "and I will prove immortality +through that memory."</p> + +<p>It was the same old professor. He was up now and every muscle working as +he struggled and gesticulated, and wrote invisible hieroglyphics in the +air about him and made geometrical figures with palms and fingers. But +the professor had advanced in speculation.</p> + +<p>"The time will come, my young friend," he said at last, "when the mind +will give us its memories complete. We shall learn the secrets of +creation by memory. In its perfection we shall place a man yonder and by +vibration get his mind memory to work; theoretically he will first write +of his father and then his grandfather, describing their mental lives. +He will go back along the lines of his ancestry. He will get into Latin, +then Greek, then Hebrew, then Chaldean, then into cuneiform +inscriptions, then into figure representation. He will be an artist or +musician or sculptor, and possibly all if the back trail of his memory +crosses such talents. Aye," he continued, enthusiastically, "lost +nations will live again. The portraits of our ancestors will hang in +view along the corridors of all times! This will come by vibratory +force, but how?"</p> + +<p>Edward leaned forward, breathless almost with emotion.</p> + +<p>"You say the time is come; what has been done?"</p> + +<p>"Little and much! The experiments——"</p> + +<p>"Tell me, in all your experiments, have you known where a child, +separated from a parent since infancy, without aid of description, or +photograph, or information derived from a living person, could see in +memory or imagination the face of that parent, see it with such +distinctness as to enable him, an artist, to reproduce it in all +perfection?"</p> + +<p>The professor wiped his glasses nervously and kept his gaze upon his +questioner.</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Edward, "you have crossed the ocean to some purpose! I have +known such an instance here in this house. The person is still here! You +know me, my friend, and you do not know me. To you I was a rich young +American, with a turn for science and speculation. You made me your +friend and God bless you for it, but you did not know all of that +mystery which hangs over my life never to be revealed perhaps until the +millennium of science you have outlined dawns upon us. The man who +educated me, who enriched me, was not my parent or relative; he was my +guardian. He has made me the guardian of a frail, sickly lad whose +mystery is, or was, as complete as mine. Teach us to remember." The +words burst from him. They held the pent-up flood that had almost +wrecked his brain.</p> + +<p>Rapidly he recounted the situation, leaving out the woman's story as to +himself. Not to his Savior would he confess that.</p> + +<p>And then he told how, following his preceptor's hints about vibration, +he had accidentally thrown Gerald into a trance; its results, the second +experiment, the drawing and the woman's story of Gerald's birth.</p> + +<p>During this recital the professor never moved his eyes from the +speaker's face.</p> + +<p>"You wish to know what I think of it? This: I have but recently ventured +the proposition publicly that all ideal faces on the artist's canvas are +mind memories. Prove to me anew your results and if I establish the +reasonableness of my theory I shall have accomplished enough to die on."</p> + +<p>"In your opinion, then, this picture that Gerald drew is a mind memory?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly. But you will perceive that the more distant, the older the +experience, we may say, the less likelihood of accuracy."</p> + +<p>"It would depend, then, you think, upon the clearness of the original +impression?"</p> + +<p>"That is true! The vividness of an old impression may also outshine a +new one."</p> + +<p>"And if this young man recalls the face of a woman, who we believe it +possible—nay, probable—is his mother, and then the face of one we know +to be her father, as a reasonable man, would you consider the story of +this negro woman substantiated beyond the shadow of a doubt?"</p> + +<p>"Beyond the shadow of a doubt."</p> + +<p>"We shall try," said Edward, and then, after a moment's silence: "He is +shy of strangers and you may find it difficult to get acquainted with +him. After you have succeeded in gaining his confidence we shall settle +upon a way to proceed. One word more, he is a victim of morphia. Did I +tell you that?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I guessed it."</p> + +<p>"You have known such men before, then?"</p> + +<p>"I have studied the proposition that opium may be a power to effect what +we seek, and, in connection with it, have studied the hospitals that +make a specialty of such cases."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence, and presently Edward said:</p> + +<p>"Will you say good-night now?"</p> + +<p>"Good-night." The professor gazed about him. "How was it you used to say +good-night, Edward? Old customs are good. It is not possible that the +violin has been lost." He smiled and Edward got his instrument and +played. He knew the old man's favorites; the little folk-melodies of the +Rhine country, bits of love songs, mostly, around which the loving +players of Germany have woven so many beautiful fancies. And in the +playing Edward himself was quieted.</p> + +<p>The light from the hall downstairs streamed out along the gravel walk, +and in the glare was a man standing with arms folded and head bent +forward. A tall woman came and gently laid her hand upon him. He started +violently, tossed his arms aloft and rushed into the darkness. She +waited in silence a moment and then slowly followed him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>"IF I MEET THE MAN!"</h3> + + +<p>When Edward opened the morning paper, which he did while waiting for the +return of the professor, who had wandered away before breakfast, he was +shocked by the announcement of Montjoy's defeat. The result of the vote +in the remote county had been secured by horseback service organized by +an enterprising journal, and telegraphed. The official returns were +given.</p> + +<p>Already the campaign had drifted far into the past with him; years +seemed to have gone by when he arose from the sick-bed and now it +scarcely seemed possible that he, Edward Morgan, was the same man who +labored among the voters, shouted himself hoarse and kept the +headquarters so successfully. It must have been a dream.</p> + +<p>But Mary! That part was real. He wrote her a few lines expressing his +grief.</p> + +<p>And then came the professor, with his adventure! He had met a young man +out making photographs and had interested him with descriptions of +recent successful attempts to photograph in colors. And then they had +gone to the wing-room and examined the results of the young man's +efforts to produce pictures upon living substances. "He has some of the +most original theories and ideas upon the subject I have heard," said +the German. "Not wild beyond the possibilities of invention, however, +and I am not sure but that he has taught me a lesson in common sense. +'Find how nature photographs upon living tissue,' said the young man, +'and when you have reduced your pictures to the invisible learn to +re-enlarge them; perhaps you will learn to enlarge nature's invisibles.'</p> + +<p>"He has discovered that the convolutions of the human brain resemble an +embryo infant and that the new map which indicates the nerve lines +centering in the brain from different parts of the body shows them +entering the corresponding parts of the embryo. He lingers upon the +startling idea that the nerve is a formative organ, and that by +sensations conveyed, and by impressions, it actually shapes the brain. +When sensations are identical and persistent they establish a family +form. The brain is a bas-relief composite picture, shaped by all the +nerves. Theoretically a man's brain carefully removed, photographed and +enlarged ought to show the outlines of a family form, with all the +modifications.</p> + +<p>"You will perceive that he is working along hereditary lines and not +psychologic. And I am not sure but that in this he is pursuing the +wisest course, heredity being the primer."</p> + +<p>"You believe he has made a new discovery, then?"</p> + +<p>"As to that, no. The speculative mind is tolerant. It accepts nothing +that is not proven; it rejects nothing that has not been disproved. The +original ideas in most discoveries in their crude forms were not less +wild than this. All men who observe are friends of science."</p> + +<p>The incident pleased Edward. To bring the professor and Gerald together +he had feared would be difficult. Chance and the professor's tact had +already accomplished this successfully.</p> + +<p>"I shall leave you and Gerald to get thoroughly acquainted. When you +have learned him you can study him best. I have business of importance."</p> + +<p>He at once went to the city and posted his letter. Norton's leave had +been exhausted and he had already departed for New York.</p> + +<p>At the club and at the almost forsaken headquarters of the Montjoy party +all was consternation and regret. The fatal overconfidence in the +backwoods county was settled upon as the cause of the disaster. And yet +why should that county have failed them? Two companies of Evan's old +brigade were recruited there; he had been assured by almost every +prominent man in the county of its vote. And then came the crushing +blow.</p> + +<p>The morning paper had wired for special reports and full particulars, +and at 12 o'clock an extra was being cried upon the streets. Everybody +bought the paper; the street cars, the hotels, the clubs, the street +corners, were thronged with people eagerly reading the announcement. +Under triple head lines, which contained the words "Fraud" and "Slander" +and "Treachery," came this article, which Edward read on the street:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The cause of the fatal slump-off of Col. Montjoy's friends in +this county was a letter placed in circulation here yesterday +and industriously spread to the remotest voting places. It was +a letter from Mr. Amos Royson to the Hon. Thomas Brown of this +county. Your correspondent has secured and herewith sends a +copy:</p> + +<p>"'My Dear Sir: In view of the election about to be held in your +county, I beg to submit the following facts: Against the honor +and integrity of Col. Montjoy nothing can be urged, but it is +known here so positively that I do not hesitate to state, and +authorize you to use it, that the whole Montjoy movement is in +reality based upon an effort to crush Swearingen for his +opposition to certain corporation measures in congress, and +which by reason of his position on certain committees, he +threatens with defeat! To this end money has been sent here and +is being lavishly expended by a tool of the corporation. Added +to this fact that the man chosen for the business is one +calling himself Edward Morgan, the natural son of a late +eccentric bachelor lawyer of this city. The mother of this man +is an octoroon, who now resides with him at his home in the +suburbs. It is certain that these facts are not known to the +people who have him in tow, but they are easy of substantiation +when necessary. We look to you and your county to save the +district. We were "done up" here before we were armed with this +information. Respectfully yours,</p> + +<p>'Amos Royson.'</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Thousands of these circulars were printed and yesterday put in the +hands of every voter. Col. Montjoy's friends were taken by surprise and +their enthusiasm chilled. Many failed to vote and the county was lost by +twenty-three majority. Intense excitement prevails here among the +survivors of Evan's brigade, who feel themselves compromised."</p> + +<p>Then followed an editorial denouncing the outrage and demanding proofs. +It ended by stating that the limited time prevented the presentation of +interviews with Royson and Morgan, neither of whom could be reached by +telephone after the news was received.</p> + +<p>There are moments when the very excess of danger calms. Half the letter, +the political lie alone, would have enraged Edward beyond expression. He +could not realize nor give expression. The attack upon his blood was too +fierce an assault. In fact, he was stunned. He looked up to find himself +in front of the office of Ellison Eldridge. Turning abruptly he ascended +the steps; the lawyer was reading the article as he appeared, but would +have laid aside the paper.</p> + +<p>"Finish," said Edward, curtly; "it is upon that publication I have come +to advise with you." He stood at the window while the other read, and +there as he waited a realization of the enormity of the blow, its +cowardliness, its cruelty, grew upon him slowly. He had never +contemplated publicity; he had looked forward to a life abroad, with +this wearing mystery forever gnawing at his heart, but publication and +the details and the apparent truth! It was horrible! And to disprove +it—how? The minutes passed! Would the man behind him never finish what +he himself had devoured in three minutes? He looked back; Eldridge was +gazing over the paper into space, his face wearing an expression of +profound melancholy. He had uttered no word of denunciation; he was +evidently not even surprised.</p> + +<p>"My God," exclaimed Edward, excitedly; "you believe it—you believe it!" +Seizing the paper, he dashed from the room, threw himself into a hack +and gave the order for home.</p> + +<p>And half an hour after he was gone the lawyer sat as he left him, +thinking.</p> + +<p>Edward found a reporter awaiting him.</p> + +<p>"You have the extra, I see, Mr. Morgan," said he; "may I ask what you +will reply to it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing!" thundered the desperate man.</p> + +<p>"Will you not say it is false?"</p> + +<p>Edward went up to him. "Young man, there are moments when it is +dangerous to question people. This is one of them!" He opened the door +and stood waiting. Something in his face induced the newspaper man to +take his leave. He said as he departed: "If you write a card we shall be +glad to publish it." The sound of the closing door was the answer he +received.</p> + +<p>Alone and locked in his room, Edward read the devilish letter over and +over, until every word of it was seared into his brain forever. It could +not be denied that more than once in his life the possibility of his +being the son of John Morgan had suggested itself to his mind, but he +had invariably dismissed it. Now it came back to him with the force +almost of conviction. Had the truth been stated at last? It was the only +explanation that fitted the full circumstances of his life—and it +fitted them all. It was true and known to be true by at least one other. +Eldridge's legal mind, prejudiced in his favor by years of association +with his benefactor, had been at once convinced; and if the statement +made so positively carried conviction to Eldridge himself, to his legal +friend, how would the great sensational public receive it?</p> + +<p>It was done, and the result was to be absolute and eternal ruin for +Edward Morgan. Such was the conclusion forced upon him.</p> + +<p>Then there arose in mind the face of the one girl he remembered. He +thought of the effect of the blow upon her. He had been her guest, her +associate. The family had received him with open arms. They must share +the odium of his disgrace, and for him now what course was left? Flight! +To turn his back upon all the trouble and go to his old life, and let +the matter die out!</p> + +<p>And then came another thought. Could any one prove the charge?</p> + +<p>He was in the dark; the cards were held with their backs to him. Suppose +he should bring suit for libel, what could he offer? His witness had +already spoken and her words substantiated the charge against him. Not a +witness, not a scrap of paper, was to be had in his defense. A libel +suit would be the rivet in his irons and he would face the public, +perhaps for days, and be openly the subject of discussion. It was +impossible, but he could fight.</p> + +<p>The thought thrilled him to the heart. She should see that he was a man! +He would not deal with slander suits, with newspapers; he would make the +scoundrel eat his words or he would silence his mouth forever. The man +soul was stirred; he no longer felt the humiliation that had rendered +him incapable of thought. The truth of the story was not the issue; the +injury was its use, false or true. He strode into Gerald's room and +broke into the experiments of the scientists, already close friends.</p> + +<p>"You have weapons here. Lend me one; the American uses the revolver, I +believe?"</p> + +<p>Gerald looked at him in astonishment, but he was interested.</p> + +<p>"Here is one; can you shoot?"</p> + +<p>"Badly; the small sword is my weapon."</p> + +<p>"Then let me teach you." Gerald was a boy now; weapons had been his +hobby years before.</p> + +<p>"Wait, let me fix a target!" He brushed a chalk drawing from a +blackboard at the end of the room and stood, crayon in hand. "What would +you prefer to shoot at, a tree, a figure——"</p> + +<p>"A figure!"</p> + +<p>Gerald rapidly sketched the outlines of a man with white shirt front and +stepped aside. Five times the man with the weapon sighted and fired. The +figure was not touched. Gerald was delighted. He ran up, took the pistol +and reloaded it and fired twice in succession. Two spots appeared upon +the shirt front; they were just where the lower and center shirt studs +would have been.</p> + +<p>"You are an artist, I believe," he said to Edward.</p> + +<p>The latter bowed his head. "Now, professor, I will show you one of the +most curious experiments in physics, the one that explains the chance +stroke of billiards done upon the spur of the moment; the one rifle shot +of a man's life, and the accurately thrown stone. Stand here," he said +to Edward, "and follow my directions closely. Remember, you are a +draftsman and are going to outline that figure on the board. Draw it +quickly with your pistol for a pen, and just as if you were touching the +board. Say when you have finished and don't lower the pistol." Edward +drew as directed.</p> + +<p>"It is done," he said.</p> + +<p>"You have not added the upper stud. Fire!"</p> + +<p>An explosion followed; a spot appeared just over the heart.</p> + +<p>"See!" shouted Gerald; "a perfect aim; the pistol was on the stud when +he fired, but beginners always pull the muzzle to the right, and let the +barrel fly up. The secret is this, professor," he continued, taking a +pencil and beginning to draw, "the concentration of attention is so +perfect that the hand is a part of the eye. An artist who shoots will +shoot as he draws, well or badly. Now, no man drawing that figure will +measure to see where the stud should be; he would simply put the chalk +spot in the right place."</p> + +<p>Edward heard no more; loading the pistol he had departed. "If I meet the +man!" he said to himself.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>HOW THE CHALLENGE WAS WRITTEN.</h3> + + +<p>The search for Royson was unavailing. His determined pursuer tried his +office door; it was locked. He walked every business street, entered +every restaurant and billiard saloon, every hotel lobby. The politician +was not to be found. He himself attracted wide-spread attention wherever +he went. Had he met Royson he would have killed him without a word, but +as he walked he did a great deal of thinking. He had no friend in the +city. The nature of this attack was such that few people would care to +second him. The younger Montjoy was away and he was unwilling to set +foot in the colonel's house again. Through him, Edward Morgan, however +innocently it may be, had come the fatal blow.</p> + +<p>He ran over the list of acquaintances he had formed among the younger +men. They were not such as pleased him in this issue, for a strong, +clear head, a man of good judgment and good balance, a determined man, +was needed.</p> + +<p>Then there came to his memory the face of one whom he had met at supper +his first night in town—the quiet, dignified Barksdale. He sought this +man's office. Barksdale was the organizer of a great railroad in process +of construction. His reception of Edward was no more nor less than would +have been accorded under ordinary circumstances. Had he come on the day +before he would have been greeted as then.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Morgan? Be seated, sir." This with a wave of his +hand. Then, "What can I do for you?" His manner affected Edward in the +best way; he began to feel the business atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"I have called, Mr. Barksdale, upon a personal matter and to ask your +assistance. I suppose you have read to-day's extra?"</p> + +<p>"I have."</p> + +<p>"My first inclination, after fully weighing the intent and effect of +that famous publication," said Edward, "was to seek and kill the author. +For this purpose I have searched the town. Royson is not to be found. I +am so nearly a stranger here that I am forced to come to my +acquaintances for assistance, and now I ask that you will advise me as +to my next proceeding."</p> + +<p>"Demand a retraction and apology at once!"</p> + +<p>"And if it is refused?"</p> + +<p>"Challenge him!"</p> + +<p>"If he refuses to fight?"</p> + +<p>"Punish him. That is all you can do."</p> + +<p>"Will you make the demand for me—will you act for me?"</p> + +<p>Barksdale reflected a moment and then said: "Do not misunderstand my +hesitation; it is not based upon the publication, nor upon unwillingness +to serve you. I am considering the complications which may involve +others; I must, in fact, consult others before I can reply. In the +meantime will you be guided by me?"</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + +<p>"You are armed and contemplating a very unwise act. Leave your weapon +here and take a hack home and remain there until I call. It is now 3:30 +o'clock. I will be there at 8. If I do not act for you I will suggest a +friend, for this matter should not lie over-night. But under no +circumstances can I go upon the field; my position here involves +interests covering many hundreds of thousands of invested funds, which I +have induced. Dueling is clearly out of vogue in this country and +clearly illegal. For the president of a railroad to go publicly into a +duel and deliberately break the law would lessen public confidence in +the north in both him and his business character and affect the future +of his enterprise, the value of its stocks and bonds. You admit the +reasonableness of this, do you not?"</p> + +<p>"I do. There is my weapon! I will expect you at 8. Good evening, Mr. +Barksdale."</p> + +<p>The hours wore slowly away at home. Edward studied his features in the +cheval glass; he could not find in them the slightest resemblance to the +woman in the picture. He had not erred in that. The absence of any +portrait of John Morgan prevented his making a comparison there. He knew +from descriptions given by Eldridge that he was not very like him in +form or in any way that he could imagine, but family likeness is an +elusive fact. Two people will resemble each other, although they may +differ in features taken in detail.</p> + +<p>He went to Gerald's room, moved by a sudden impulse. Gerald was +demonstrating one of his theories concerning mind pictures and found in +the professor a smiling and tolerant listener.</p> + +<p>He was saying: "Now, let us suppose that from youth up a child has +looked into its mother's face, felt her touch, heard her voice; that his +senses carried to that forming brain their sensations, each nerve +touching the brain, and with minute force setting up day by day, month +by month, and year by year a model. Yes, go back further and remember +that this was going on before the child was a distinct individual; we +have the creative force in both stages! Tell me, is it impossible then +that this little brain shall grow into the likeness it carries as its +most serious impression, and that forced to the effort would on canvas +or in its posterity produce the picture it has made——"</p> + +<p>"How can you distinguish the mind picture from the memory picture? What +is the difference?"</p> + +<p>"Not easily, but if I can produce a face which comes to me in my dreams, +which haunts my waking hours, which is with me always, the face of one I +have never seen, it must come to me as a mind picture; and if that +picture is the feminine of my own, have I not reason to believe that it +stands for the creative power from which I sprang? Such a picture as +this."</p> + +<p>He drew a little curtain aside and on the wall shone the fair face of a +woman; the face from the church sketch, but robbed of its terror, the +counterpart of the little painting upstairs. The professor looked grave, +but Edward gazed on it in awe.</p> + +<p>"Now a simple brain picture," he said, almost in a whisper; "draw me the +face of John Morgan."</p> + +<p>The artist made not more than twenty strokes of the crayon upon the +blackboard.</p> + +<p>"Such is John Morgan, as I last saw him," said Gerald; "a mere +photograph; a brain picture!"</p> + +<p>Edward gazed from one to the other; from the picture to the artist +astounded. The professor had put on his glasses; it was he who broke the +silence.</p> + +<p>"That is Herr Abingdon," he said. Gerald smiled and said:</p> + +<p>"That is John Morgan."</p> + +<p>Without a word Edward left the room. Under an assumed name, deterred +from open recognition by the sad facts of the son's birth, his father +had watched over and cherished him. No wonder the letter had come back. +Abingdon was dead!</p> + +<p>The front door was open. He plunged directly into the arms of Barksdale +as he sought the open air. Barksdale was one of those men who seem to be +without sentiment, because they have been trained by circumstances to +look at facts from a business standpoint only. Yet the basis of his +whole life was sentiment.</p> + +<p>In the difficulty that had arisen his quick mind grasped at once the +situation. He knew Royson and was sure that he shielded himself behind +some collateral fact, not behind the main truth. In the first place he +was hardly in position to know anything of Morgan's history more than +the general public would have known. In the second, he would not have +dared to use it under any circumstances if those circumstances did not +protect him. What were these? First there was Morgan's isolation; only +one family could be said to be intimate with him, and they could not, on +account of the younger Montjoy, act for Edward. The single controlling +idea that thrust itself into Barksdale's mind was the proposition that +Royson did not intend to fight.</p> + +<p>Then the position of the Montjoy family flashed upon him. The blow had +been delivered to crush the colonel politically and upon a man who was +his unselfish ally. Owing to the nature of the attack Col. Montjoy could +ask no favors of Royson, and owing to the relationship, he could not +proceed against him in Morgan's interest. He could neither act for nor +advise, and in the absence of Col. Montjoy, who else could be found?</p> + +<p>Before replying to Edward, a plan of action occurred to him. When he +sent that excited individual home he went direct to Royson's office. He +found the door open and that gentleman serenely engaged in writing. Even +at this point he was not deceived; he knew that his approach had been +seen, as had Edward's, and preparations made accordingly.</p> + +<p>Royson had been city attorney and in reality the tool of a ring. His +ambition was boundless. Through friends he had broached a subject very +dear to him; he desired to become counsel for the large corporations +that Barksdale represented, and there was a surprised satisfaction in +his tones as he welcomed the railroad president and gave him a seat.</p> + +<p>Barksdale opened the conversation on this line and asked for a written +opinion upon a claim of liability in a recent accident. He went further +and stated that perhaps later Royson might be relied upon frequently in +such cases. The town was talking of nothing else at that time but the +Royson card. It was natural that Barksdale should refer to it.</p> + +<p>"A very stiff communication, that of yours, about Mr. Morgan," he said, +carelessly; "it will probably be fortunate for you if your informant is +not mistaken."</p> + +<p>"There is no mistake," said Royson, leaning back in his chair, glad that +the subject had been brought up. "It does seem a rough card to write, +but I have reason to think there was no better way out of a very ugly +complication."</p> + +<p>"The name of your informant will be demanded, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I shall not give it!"</p> + +<p>"Then will come a challenge."</p> + +<p>"Hardly!" Royson arose and closed the door. "If you have a few moments +and do not mind hearing this, I will tell you in confidence the whole +business. Who would be sought to make a demand upon me for the name of +my informant?"</p> + +<p>"One of the Montjoys naturally, but your relationship barring them they +would perhaps find Mr. Morgan a second."</p> + +<p>"But suppose that I prove conclusively that the information came from a +member of the Montjoy family? What could they do? Under the +circumstances which have arisen their hands are tied. As a matter of +fact I am the only one that can protect them. If the matter came to that +point, as a last resort I could refuse to fight, for the reason given in +the letter."</p> + +<p>Barksdale was silent. The whole devilish plot flashed upon him. He knew +in advance the person described as a member of the Montjoy family, and +he knew the base motives of the man who at that moment was dishonoring +him with his confidence. His blood boiled within him. Cool and calm as +he was by nature, his face showed emotion as he arose and said:</p> + +<p>"I think I understand."</p> + +<p>Royson stood by the door, his hand upon the knob, after his visitor had +gone.</p> + +<p>"It was a mistake; a great mistake," he said to himself in a whisper. "I +have simply acted the fool!"</p> + +<p>Barksdale went straight to a friend upon whose judgment he relied and +laid the matter before him. Together they selected three of the most +honorable and prominent men in the city, friends of the Montjoys, and +submitted it to them.</p> + +<p>The main interest was now centered in saving the Montjoy family. Edward +had become secondary. An agreement was reached upon Barksdale's +suggestion and all was now complete unless the aggrieved party should +lose his case in the correspondence about to ensue.</p> + +<p>Barksdale disguised his surprise when he assisted Edward at the door to +recover equilibrium.</p> + +<p>"I am here sir, as I promised," he said, "but the complications extend +further than I knew. I now state that I cannot act for you in any +capacity and ask that I be relieved of my promise." Edward bowed +stiffly.</p> + +<p>"You are released."</p> + +<p>"There is but one man in this city who can serve you and bring about a +meeting. Gerald Morgan must bear your note!" Edward repeated the name. +He could not grasp the idea. "Gerald Morgan," said Barksdale again. "He +will not need to go on the field. Good-night. And if that fails you here +is your pistol; you are no longer under my guidance. But one word +more—my telephone is 280; if during the night or at any time I can +advise you, purely upon formal grounds, summon me. In the meantime see +to it that your note does not demand the name of Royson's informant. Do +not neglect that. The use he has made of his information must be made +the basis of the quarrel; if you neglect this your case is lost. +Good-night."</p> + +<p>The thought flashed into Edward's mind then that the world was against +him. This man was fearful of becoming responsible himself. He had named +Gerald. It was a bruised and slender reed, but he would lean upon it, +even if he crushed it in the use. He returned to the wing-room.</p> + +<p>"Professor," he said, "you know that under no possible circumstances +would I do you a discourtesy, so when I tell you, as now, that for +to-night and possibly a day, we are obliged to leave you alone, you will +understand that some vital matter lies at the bottom of it."</p> + +<p>"My young friend," exclaimed that gentleman, "go as long as you please. +I have a little world of my own, you know," he smiled cheerfully, "in +which I am always amused. Gerald has enlarged it. Go and come when you +can; here are books—what more does one need?" Edward bowed slightly.</p> + +<p>"Gerald, follow me." Gerald, without a word, laid aside his crayon and +obeyed. He stood in the library a moment later looking with tremulous +excitement upon the man who had summoned him so abruptly. By reflection +he was beginning to share the mental disturbance. His frail figure +quivered and he could not keep erect.</p> + +<p>"Read that!" said Edward, handing him the paper. He took the sheet and +read. When he finished he was no longer trembling, but to the +astonishment of Edward, very calm. A look of weariness rested upon his +face.</p> + +<p>"Have you killed him?" he asked, laying aside the paper, his mind at +once connecting the incident of the pistol with this one.</p> + +<p>"No, he is in hiding."</p> + +<p>"Have you challenged him?"</p> + +<p>"No! My God, can you not understand? I am without friends! The whole +city believes the story." A strange expression came upon the face of +Gerald.</p> + +<p>"We must challenge him at once," he said. "I am, of course, the proper +second. I must ask you in the first place to calm yourself. The records +must be perfect." He seated himself at a desk and prepared to write. +Edward was walking the room. He came and stood by his side.</p> + +<p>"Do not demand the name of his informant," he said; "make the +publication and circulation of the letter the cause of our grievance."</p> + +<p>"Of course," was the reply. The letter was written rapidly. "Sign it if +you please," said Gerald. Edward read the letter and noticed that it was +written smoothly and without a break. He signed it. Gerald had already +rung for the buggy and disappeared. "Wait here," he had said, "until I +return. In the meantime do not converse with anyone upon this subject." +The thought that flashed upon the mind of the man left in the +drawing-room was that the race courage had become dominant, and for the +time being was superior to ill-health, mental trouble and environment. +It was in itself a confirmation of the cruel letter. The manhood of +Albert Evan had become a factor in the drama.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>BROUGHT TO BAY.</h3> + + +<p>Col. Montjoy was apprised of the unexpected result in the backwoods at +an early hour. He read the announcement quietly and went on his usual +morning ride undisturbed. Then through the family spread the news as the +other members made their appearance.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montjoy said, gently: "All happens for the best. If Mr. Montjoy had +been elected he would have been exposed for years to the Washington +climate, and he is not very well at any time. He complained of his heart +several times last night."</p> + +<p>But Mary went off and had a good cry. She could not endure the thought +of the slightest affront to her stately father. She felt better after +her cry and kissed the old gentleman as he came in to breakfast.</p> + +<p>"I see you have all heard the news," he said, cheerily. "Well, it lifts +a load from me. I spent four very trying years up in the neighborhood of +Washington, and I am not well disposed toward the locality. I have done +my duty to the fullest extent in this matter. The people who know me +have given me an overwhelming indorsement, and I have been beaten only +by people who do not know me! Swearingen will doubtless make a good +representative, after all. I am sorry for Evan," he added, laughing. "It +will be news to him to find out that the old Fire-Eaters have been +worsted at last." He went to breakfast with his arms around wife and +daughter. "All the honors of public life cannot compensate a man for +separation from his home," he said, "and Providence knows it."</p> + +<p>Annie was silent and anxious. She made a feeble effort to sympathize +with the defeated, but with poor success. During the morning she started +at every sound and went frequently to the front door. She knew her +cousin, and something assured her that his hand was in this mischief. +How would it affect her? In her room she laughed triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Vain fools!" she exclaimed; "let them stay where they belong!" In the +afternoon there was the sound of buggy wheels, and a servant brought to +the veranda, where they were sitting, a package. Adjusting his glasses, +the colonel opened it to find one of the extras. At the head of this was +written: "Thinking it probable that it may be important for this to +reach you to-day, and fearing it might not otherwise, I send it by +messenger in buggy. Use them as you desire." To this was signed the name +of a friend.</p> + +<p>Annie, who watched the colonel as he read, saw his face settle into +sternness, and then an expression of anxiety overspread it. "Anything +serious, Norton?" It was the voice of his wife, who sat knitting.</p> + +<p>"A matter connected with the election calls me to town," he said; "I +hope it will be the last time. I shall go in with the driver who brought +the note." He went inside and made his few arrangements and departed +hurriedly. After he was gone, Annie picked up the paper from the hall +table, where he had placed it, and read the fatal announcement. Although +frightened, she could scarcely conceal her exultation. Mary was passing; +she thrust the paper before her eyes and said: "Read that! So much for +entertaining strangers!"</p> + +<p>Mary read. The scene whirled about her, and but for the knowledge that +her suffering was bringing satisfaction to the woman before her she +would have fallen to the floor. She saw in the gleeful eyes, gleaming +upon her, something of the truth. With a desperate effort she restrained +herself and the furious words that had rushed to her lips, and laid +aside the paper with unutterable scorn and dignity.</p> + +<p>"The lie is too cheap to pass anywhere except in the backwoods," was all +she said.</p> + +<p>A smile curled the thin lips of the other as she witnessed the desperate +struggle of the girl. The voice of Col. Montjoy, who had returned to the +gate, was heard calling to Mary:</p> + +<p>"Daughter, bring the paper from the hall table."</p> + +<p>She carried it to him. Something in her pale face caused him to ask: +"Have you read it, daughter?"</p> + +<p>She nodded her head. He was instantly greatly concerned and began some +rambling explanation about campaign lies and political methods. But he +could not disguise the fact that he was shocked beyond expression. She +detained him but a moment. Oh, wonderful power of womanly intuition!</p> + +<p>"Father," she said faintly, "be careful what you do. The whole thing +originated back yonder," nodding her head toward the house. She had said +it, and now her eyes blazed defiance. He looked upon her in amazement, +not comprehending, but the matter grew clearer as he thought upon it.</p> + +<p>Arriving in the city he was prepared for anything. He went direct to +Royson's office, and that gentleman seeing him enter smiled. The visit +was expected and desired. He bowed formally, however, and moving a chair +forward locked the door. Darkness had just fallen, but the electric +light outside the window was sufficient for an interview; neither seemed +to care for more light.</p> + +<p>"Amos," said the old man, plunging into the heart of the subject, "you +have done a shameful and a cruel thing, and I have come to tell you so +and insist upon your righting the wrong. You know me too well to suspect +that personal reasons influence me in the least. As far as I am +concerned the wrong cannot be righted, and I would not purchase nor ask +a personal favor from you. The man you have insulted so grievously is a +stranger and has acted the part of a generous friend to those who, +although you may not value the connection, are closely bound to you. In +the name of God, how could you do it?" He was too full of indignation to +proceed, and he had need of coolness.</p> + +<p>The other did not move nor give the slightest evidence of feeling. He +had this advantage; the part he was acting had been carefully planned +and rehearsed. After a moment's hesitation, he said:</p> + +<p>"You should realize, Col. Montjoy, that I have acted only after a calm +deliberation, and the matter is not one to be discussed excitedly. I +cannot refuse to talk with you about it, but it is a cold-blooded matter +of policy only." The manner and tone of the speaker chilled the elder to +the heart. Royson continued: "As for myself and you—well, it was an +open, impersonal fight. You know my ambition; it was as laudable as +yours. I have worked for years to keep in the line of succession; I +could not be expected to sit silent and while losing my whole chance see +my friend defeated. All is fair in love and war—and politics. I have +used such weapons as came to my hand, and the last I used only when +defeat was certain."</p> + +<p>Controlling himself with great effort, Col. Montjoy said:</p> + +<p>"You certainly cannot expect the matter to end here!"</p> + +<p>"How can it proceed?" A slight smile lighted the lawyer's face.</p> + +<p>"A demand will be made upon you for your authority."</p> + +<p>"Who will make it—you?"</p> + +<p>A light dawned upon the elder. The cool insolence of the man was more +than he could endure.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he exclaimed, rising. "As God is my judge, if he comes to me I +shall make the demand! Ingratitude was never charged against one of my +name. This man has done me a lasting favor; he shall not suffer for need +of a friend, if I have to sacrifice every connection in the world."</p> + +<p>Again the lawyer smiled.</p> + +<p>"I think it best to remember, colonel, that we can reach no sensible +conclusion without cool consideration. Let me ask you, then, for +information. If I should answer that the charges in my letter, so far as +Morgan's parentage is concerned, were based upon statements made by a +member of your immediate family, what would be your course?"</p> + +<p>"I should denounce you as a liar and make the quarrel my own."</p> + +<p>Royson grew pale, but made no reply. He walked to his desk, and taking +from it a letter passed it to the angry man. He lighted the gas, while +the colonel's trembling hands were arranging his glasses, and stood +silent, waiting. The note was in a feminine hand. Col. Montjoy read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My Dear Amos: I have been thinking over the information I gave +you touching the base parentage of the man Morgan, and I am not +sure but that it should be suppressed so far as the public is +concerned, and brought home here in another way. The facts +cannot be easily proved, and the affair would create a great +scandal, in which I, as a member of this absurd family, would +be involved. You should not use it, at any rate, except as a +desperate measure, and then only upon the understanding that +you are to become responsible, and that I am in no way whatever +to be brought into the matter. Yours in haste,</p> + +<p>"Annie."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The reader let the paper fall and covered his face with his hands a +moment. Then he arose with dignity.</p> + +<p>"I did not imagine, sir, that the human heart was capable of such +villainy as yours has developed. You have stabbed a defenseless stranger +in the back; have broken faith with a poor, jealous, weak woman, and +have outraged and humiliated me, to whom you are personally indebted +financially and otherwise. Unlock your door! I have but one honorable +course left. I shall publish a card in the morning's paper stating that +your letter was based upon statements made by a member of my family; +that they are untrue in every respect, and offer a public apology."</p> + +<p>"Will you name the informant?"</p> + +<p>"What is that to you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal! If you do name her, I shall reaffirm the truth of her +statements, as in the absence of her husband I am her nearest relative. +If you do not name her, then the public may guess wrong. I think you +will not do so rash a thing, colonel. Keep out of the matter. +Circumstances give you a natural right to hands off!"</p> + +<p>"And if I do!" exclaimed the old man, passionately, "who will act for +him?" The unpleasant smile returned to the young man's lips.</p> + +<p>"No one, I apprehend!"</p> + +<p>Montjoy could have killed him as he stood. He felt the ground slipping +from under him as he, too, realized the completeness and cowardliness of +the plot.</p> + +<p>"We shall see; we shall see!" he said, gasping and pressing his hand to +his heart. "We shall see, Mr. Royson! There is a just God who looks down +upon the acts of all men, and the right prevails!"</p> + +<p>Royson bowed mockingly but profoundly.</p> + +<p>"That is an old doctrine. You are going, and there is just one thing +left unsaid. At the risk of offending you yet more, I am going to say +it."</p> + +<p>"I warn you, then, to be careful; there is a limit to human endurance +and I have persistently ascribed to me the worst of motives in this +matter, but I have as much pride in my family as you in yours. There are +but few of us left. Will you concede that if there is danger, in her +opinion, that she will become the sister-in-law of this man, and that +she believed the information she has given to be true, will you concede +that her action is natural, if not wise, and that a little more +selfishness may after all be mixed in mine?" Gradually his meaning +dawned upon his hearer. For a second he was dumb. And all this was to be +public property!</p> + +<p>"I think," said Royson, coolly opening the door, "it will be well for +you to confer with friends before you proceed, and perhaps leave to +others the task of righting the wrongs of strangers who have taken +advantage of your hospitality to offer the deadliest insult possible in +this southern country. It may not be well to arm this man with the fact +that you vouch for him; he may answer you in the future."</p> + +<p>He drew back from the door suddenly, half in terror. A man, pale as +death itself, with hair curling down upon his shoulders, and eyes that +blazed under the face before him, whose eyes never for a moment left +his, broke the seal. Then he read aloud:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Mr. Amos Royson, I inclose for your inspection a clipping from +an extra issue this day, and ask if you are the author of the +letter it contains. If you answer yes, I hereby demand of you +an unconditional retraction of and apology for the same, for +publication in the paper which contained the original. This +will be handed to you by my friend, Gerald Morgan.</p> + +<p>"Edward Morgan."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Royson recovered himself with evident difficulty.</p> + +<p>"This is not customary—he does not demand the name of my informant!" he +said.</p> + +<p>"We do not care a fig, sir, for your informant. The insult rests in the +use you have made of a lie, and we propose to hold you responsible for +it!"</p> + +<p>Gerald spoke the words like a sweet-voiced girl and returned the stare +of his opponent with insolent coolness. The colonel had paused, as he +perceived the completeness of the lawyer's entrapping. Amos could not +use his cousin's name before the public and the Montjoys were saved from +interference. He was cornered. The colonel passed out hurriedly with an +affectionate smile to Gerald, saying:</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, gentlemen; these are matters which you will probably wish to +discuss in private. Mr. Royson, I had friends wiser than myself at work +upon this matter, and I did not know it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE HANDS OF THEIR FRIENDS.</h3> + + +<p>It was not sunset when Col. Montjoy left home. Mary went to her room and +threw herself upon her bed, sick at heart and anxious beyond the power +of weeping. Unadvised, ignorant of the full significance of the +information that had been conveyed to them, she conjured up a world of +danger for her father and for Edward. Tragedy was in the air she +breathed. At supper she was laboring under ill-concealed excitement. +Fortunately for her, the little mother was not present. Sitting in her +room, with the green glasses to which she had been reduced by the +progress of her disease, she did not notice the expression of the +daughter's face when she came as usual to look after the final +arrangement of her mother's comfort.</p> + +<p>By 8 o'clock the house was quiet. Throwing a light wrap over her +shoulders and concealing in its folds her father's army pistol, Mary +slipped into the outer darkness and whistled softly. A great shaggy dog +came bounding around from the rear and leaped upon her. She rested her +hand on his collar, and together they passed into the avenue. Old Isam +stood there and by him the pony phaeton and mare.</p> + +<p>"Stay up until I return, please, Uncle Isam, and be sure to meet me +here!" The old man bowed.</p> + +<p>"I'll be hyar, missy," he said. "Don't you want me to go, too?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you; I am going to Gen. Evan's and you must stay and look +after things. Nero will go with me." The dog had already leaped into the +vehicle. She sprang in also, and almost noiselessly they rolled away +over the pine straw.</p> + +<p>The old man listened; first he heard the dogs bark at Rich's then at +Manuel's and then at black Henry's, nearly a mile away. He shook his +head.</p> + +<p>"Missy got somep'n on her mind! She don't make no hoss move in de night +dat way for nothin'! Too fast! Too fast!"</p> + +<p>He went off to his cabin and sat outside to smoke. And in the night the +little mare sped away. On the public roads the gait was comparatively +safe, and she responded to every call nobly. The unbroken shadows of the +roadside glided like walls of gloom! The little vehicle rocked and +swayed, and, underneath, the wheels sang a monotonous warning rhyme.</p> + +<p>Now and then the little vehicle fairly leaped from the ground, for when +Norton, a year previous, had bid in that animal at a blooded-stock sale +in Kentucky, she was in her third summer and carried the blood of Wilkes +and Rysdyk's Hambletonian, and was proud of it, as her every motion +showed.</p> + +<p>The little mare had the long route that night, but at last she stood +before the doorway of the Cedars. The general was descending the steps +as Mary gave Nero the lines.</p> + +<p>"What! Mary—"</p> + +<p>He feared to ask the question on his lips. She was full of excitement, +and her first effort to speak was a dismal failure.</p> + +<p>"Come! Come! Come!" he said, in that descending scale of voice which +seems to have been made for sympathy and encouragment. "Calm yourself +first and talk later." He had his arms around her now and was ascending +the steps. "Sit right down here in this big chair; there you are!"</p> + +<p>"You have not heard, then?" she said, controlling herself with supreme +effort.</p> + +<p>"About your father's defeat? Oh, yes. But what of that? There are +defeats more glorious than victories, my child. You will find that your +father was taken advantage of." She buried her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>"It is not about that, sir—the means they used!" And then, between +sobs, she told him the whole story. He made no reply, no comment, but +reaching over to the rail secured his corn-cob pipe and filled it. As he +struck a match above the tobacco, she saw that his face was as calm as +the candid skies of June. The sight gave her courage.</p> + +<p>"Do you not think it awful?" she ventured.</p> + +<p>"Awful? Yes! A man to descend to such depths of meanness must have +suffered a great deal on the way. I am sorry for Royson—sorry, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Morgan!" she exclaimed, excitedly.</p> + +<p>"That must be attended to," he said, very gravely. "Mr. Morgan has +placed us all under heavy obligations, and we must see him through."</p> + +<p>"You must, General; you must, and right away! They have sent for poor +papa, and he has gone to town, and I—I—just could not sleep, so I came +to you." He laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"And in a hurry! Whew! I heard the mare's feet as she crossed the bridge +a mile away. You did just right. And of course the old general is +expected to go to town and pull papa and Mr. Morgan out of the mud, and +straighten out things. John!"</p> + +<p>"Put the saddle on my horse at once. And now, how is the little mamma?" +he asked, gently.</p> + +<p>He held her on this subject until the horse was brought, and then they +rode off down the avenue, the general following and rallying the girl +upon her driving.</p> + +<p>"Don't expect me to hold to that pace," he said. "I once crossed a +bridge as fast, and faster, up in Virginia, but I was trying to beat the +bluecoats. Too old now, too old."</p> + +<p>"But you will get there in time?" she asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; they will be consulting and sending notes and raising points +all night. I will get in somewhere along the line. When a man starts out +to hunt up trouble he is rarely ever too late to find it." He saw her +safely to where Isam was waiting, and then rode on to the city. He +realized the complication, and now his whole thought was to keep his +neighbor from doing anything rash. It did occur to him that there might +be a street tragedy, but he shook his head over this when he remembered +Royson. "He is too much of a schemer for that," he said. "He will get +the matter into the hands of a board of honor." The old gentleman +laughed softly to himself and touched up his horse.</p> + +<p>In the meantime affairs were drawing to a focus in the city. After the +abrupt departure of Gerald, Royson stood alone, holding the demand and +thinking. An anxious expression had settled upon his face. He read and +reread the curt note, but could find no flaw in it. He was to be held +responsible for the publication; that was the injury. He was forced to +confess that the idea was sound. There was now no way to involve the +Montjoys and let them hush it up. He had expected to be forced to +withdraw the card and apologize, but not until the whole city was +informed that he did it to save a woman, and he would have been placed +then in the position of one sacrificing himself. Now that such refuge +was impossible he could not even escape by giving the name of his +informant. He could not have given it had there been a demand.</p> + +<p>He read between the lines that his authority was known; that he was +dealing with some master mind and that he had been out-generaled +somewhere. To whom had he talked? To no one except Barksdale. He gave +vent to a profane estimate of himself and left the office. There was no +danger now of a street assault.</p> + +<p>Amos Royson threw himself into a carriage and went to the residence of +Marsden Thomas, dismissing the vehicle. The family of Marsden Thomas was +an old one, and by reason of its early reputation in politics and at the +bar had a sound and honorable footing. Marsden was himself a member of +the legislature, a born politician, capable of anything that would +advance his fortune, the limit only being the dead-line of disgrace.</p> + +<p>He had tied to Royson, who was slightly his elder, because of his +experience and influence.</p> + +<p>He was noted for his scrupulous regard for the code as a basis of +settlement between honorable men, and was generally consulted upon +points of honor.</p> + +<p>Secure in Thomas' room, Royson went over the events of the day, +including Montjoy's and Gerald's visits, and then produced the demand +that had been served upon him.</p> + +<p>Thomas had heard him through without interruption. When Royson described +the entrance of Gerald, with the unlooked-for note, a slight smile drew +his lips; he put aside the note, and said:</p> + +<p>"You are in a very serious scrape, Amos; I do not see how you can avoid +a fight." His visitor studied him intently.</p> + +<p>"You must help me out! I do not propose to fight." Thomas gravely +studied the note again.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you know the object of the publication," continued Royson; +"it was political. Without it we would have been beaten. It was a +desperate move; I had the information and used it."</p> + +<p>"You had information, then? I thought the whole thing was hatched up. +Who gave you the information?" Royson frowned.</p> + +<p>"My cousin, Mrs. Montjoy; you see the complication now. I supposed that +no one but the Montjoys knew this man intimately, and that their hands +would be tied!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" The exclamation was eloquent. "And the young man had another +friend, the morphine-eater; you had forgotten him!" Thomas could not +restrain a laugh. Royson was furious. He seized his hat and made a feint +to depart. Thomas kindly asked him to remain. It would have been cruel +had he failed, for he knew that Royson had not the slightest intention +of leaving.</p> + +<p>"Come back and sit down, Amos. You do us all an injustice. You played +for the credit of this victory, contrary to our advice, and now you have +the hot end of the iron."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said Royson, reverting to the note, "is there anything in +that communication that we can take advantage of?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing! Morgan might have asked in one note if you were the author of +the published letter and then in another have demanded a retraction. His +joining the two is not material; you do not deny the authorship."</p> + +<p>After a few moments of silence he continued: "There is one point I am +not satisfied upon. I am not sure but that you can refuse upon the +ground you alleged—in brief, because he is not a gentleman. Whether or +not the burden of proof would be upon you is an open question; I am +inclined to think it would be; a man is not called upon in the south to +prove his title to gentility. All southerners with whom we associate are +supposed to be gentlemen," and then he added, lazily smiling, "except +the ladies; and it is a pity they are exempt. Mrs. Montjoy would +otherwise be obliged to hold her tongue!"</p> + +<p>Royson was white with rage, but he did not speak. Secretly he was afraid +of Thomas, and it had occurred to him that in the event of his +humiliation or death Thomas would take his place.</p> + +<p>This unpleasant reflection was interrupted by the voice of his +companion.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we call in some of our friends and settle this point." The +affair was getting in the shape desired by Royson, and he eagerly +consented. Notes were at once dispatched to several well-known +gentlemen, and a short time afterward they were assembled and in earnest +conversation. It was evident that they disagreed.</p> + +<p>While this consultation was going on there was a knock at the door; a +servant brought a card. Gen. Evan had called to see Mr. Thomas, but +learning that he was engaged and how, had left the note.</p> + +<p>Thomas read it silently, and then aloud:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Marsden Thomas, Esq.—Dear Sir: I have read in to-day's paper +the painful announcement signed by Mr. Royson, and have come +into the city hoping that a serious difficulty might thereby be +averted. To assist in the settlement of this matter, I hereby +state over my own signature that the announcement concerning +Edward Morgan is erroneous, and I vouch for his right to the +title and privileges of a gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Respectfully,</p> + +<p>"Albert Evan."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The silence that followed this was broken by one of the older gentlemen +present.</p> + +<p>"This simplifies matters very greatly," he said. "Without the clearest +and most positive proof, Mr. Royson must retract or fight."</p> + +<p>They took their departure at length, leaving Royson alone to gaze upon +the open note. Thomas, returning, found him in the act of drawing on his +gloves.</p> + +<p>"I am going," said Royson, "to send a message to Annie. She must, she +shall give me something to go on. I will not sit quietly by and be made +a sacrifice!"</p> + +<p>"Write your note; I will send it."</p> + +<p>"I prefer to attend to it myself!" Thomas shook his head.</p> + +<p>"If you leave this room to-night it is with the understanding that I am +no longer your adviser. Arrest by the police must not, shall not—"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to insinuate—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing! But I shall take no chances with the name of Thomas!" said the +other proudly. "You are excited; a word let fall—a suspicion—and we +would be disgraced! Write your note; I shall send it. We have no time to +lose!" Royson threw himself down in front of a desk and wrote hurriedly:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Annie: I am cornered. For God's sake give me proofs of your +statements or tell me where to get them. It is life or death; +don't fail me.</p> + +<p>"A. R."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He sealed and addressed this. Thomas rang the bell and to the boy he +said: "How far is it to Col. Montjoy's?"</p> + +<p>"Seven miles, sah!"</p> + +<p>"How quickly can you go there and back?"</p> + +<p>"On Pet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"One hour an' a half, sah."</p> + +<p>"Take this note, say you must see Mrs. Norton Montjoy, Jr., in person, +on important matters, and deliver it to her. Here is a $5 bill; if you +are back in two hours, you need not return it. Go!"</p> + +<p>There was a gleam of ivory teeth and the boy hurried away. It was a +wretched wait, that hour and a half. The answer to the demand must go +into the paper that night!</p> + +<p>One hour and thirty-two minutes passed. They heard the horse in the +street, then the boy upon the stairway. He dashed to the door.</p> + +<p>"Miss Mary was up and at de gate when I got deir! Reck'n she hear Pet's +hoof hit de hard groun' an' hit skeered her. I tole her what you say, +and she sen' word dat Mrs. Montjoy done gone to sleep. I tell her you +all mighty anxious for to get dat note; dat Mr. Royson up here, waitin', +an' gentlemen been comin' an' goin' all night. She took de note in den +and putty soon she bring back the answer!"</p> + +<p>He was searching his pockets as he rambled over his experience, and +presently the note was found. It was the same one that had been sent by +Royson, and across the back was written:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Mr. Thomas: I think it best not to awaken Annie. Papa is in +town; if the matter is of great importance call upon him. I am +so certain this is the proper course that it will be useless to +write again or call in person to-night.</p> + +<p>"Respectfully,</p> + +<p>"M. M."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He passed the note to Royson in silence and saw the look of rage upon +his face as he tore it into a thousand pieces.</p> + +<p>"Even your little Montjoy girl seems to be against you," he said.</p> + +<p>"She is!" exclaimed Royson; "she knew that my note to Annie was not in +the interest of Edward Morgan, and she is fighting for him. She will +follow him to the altar or the grave!"</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Thomas, aside, drawing a long breath; "'tis the old story, +and I thought I had found a new plot! Well," he continued aloud, "what +next?"</p> + +<p>"It shall not be the altar! Conclude the arrangements; I am at your +service!"</p> + +<p>"He will stick," said Thomas to himself; "love and jealousy are stronger +then fear and ambition!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>"THE WITNESS IS DEAD."</h3> + + +<p>In his room at the hotel Col. Montjoy awaited the return of his friend +Evan, who had gone to find out how, as he expressed it the boys were +getting on with their fight.</p> + +<p>"I will strike the trail somewhere," he said, lightly. But he was +greatly disturbed over Col. Montjoy's concern, and noticed at once the +bad physical effect it had on him. His policy was to make light of the +matter, but he knew it was serious.</p> + +<p>To force Royson to back down was now his object; in the event of that +failing, to see that Morgan had a fair show.</p> + +<p>The colonel had removed his shoes and coat and was lying on the bed when +Evan returned. "I think I have given them a basis of settlement," said +the general. "I have vouched for the fact that the statements in +Royson's letter are erroneous. Upon my declaration he can retract and +apologize, or he must fight. I found him consulting with Thomas and +others, and I took it for granted he was looking for some way to dodge."</p> + +<p>The colonel looked at him in surprise. "But how could you?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my faith in John Morgan! He was a man of honor! He would never +have left his property to this man and put him upon the community if +there had been a cloud upon his title to gentility," and then he added, +with emotion: "A man who was willing to give his daughter to a friend +can risk a great deal to honor that friend's memory."</p> + +<p>"There is but one Albert Evan in the world," said Montjoy, after a long +silence.</p> + +<p>The general was getting himself a glass of wine. "Well, there is but one +such Montjoy, for that matter, but we two old fellows lose time sitting +up to pay each other compliments! There is much to be done. I am going +out to see Morgan; he is so new here he may need help! You stay and keep +quiet. The town is full of excitement over this affair, and people watch +me as if I were a curiosity. You can study on politics if you will; +consider the proposition that if Royson retracts we are entitled to +another trial over yonder in the lost county; that or we will threaten +them with an independent race."</p> + +<p>"No! I am too glad to have a chance to stay out honorably. I know now +that my candidacy was a mistake. It has weakened me here fatally."</p> + +<p>Col. Montjoy placed his hand over his heart wearily. The general brought +him the glass of wine he held.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Too many cigars! Here's to long life, old friend, and to the +gallant Fire-Eaters." He laughed lightly over his remembrance of the +checkmate he had accomplished, buttoned the blue coat over his broad +chest and started. "I am going now to look in upon my outpost and see +what arrangements have been made for the night. So far we hold the +strong positions. Look for me about daylight!" And, lying there alone, +his friend drifted back in thought to Mary. He was not satisfied.</p> + +<p>The door stood open at Ilexhurst when the general alighted. There was no +answer to his summons; he entered the lighted hall and went to the +library. Edward was sleeping quietly upon a lounge.</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed the general, cheerily, "asleep on guard!" Edward +sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Gen. Evan!"</p> + +<p>"Exactly; and as no one answered my summons to surrender I took +possession." Apologizing, Edward drew a chair, and they became seated.</p> + +<p>"Seriously, my young friend," began the old soldier. "I was in the city +to-night and have learned from Col. Montjoy of the infamy perpetrated +upon you. My days of warfare are over, but I could not sit by and see +one to whom we all owe so much imposed upon. Let me add, also, that I +was very much charmed with you, Mr. Morgan. If there is anything I can +do for you in the way of advice and guidance in this matter kindly +command me. I might say the same thing for Montjoy, who is at the hotel, +but unfortunately, as you may not know, his daughter-in-law is Mr. +Royson's cousin, and acting upon my advice he is silent until the +necessity for action arises. I know him well enough to add that you can +rely upon his sympathy, and if needed, his aid. I have advised him to +take no action, as in the first place he is not needed, and in the +second it may bring about an estrangement between his son and himself."</p> + +<p>Edward was very grateful and expressed himself earnestly, but his head +was in a whirl. He was thinking of the woman's story, and of Gerald.</p> + +<p>"Such a piece of infamy as is embraced in that publication," said the +general, when finally the conversation went direct to the heart of the +trouble, "was never equaled in this state. Have they replied to your +note?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. I am waiting for the answer!"</p> + +<p>"And your—cousin—is he here to receive it?"</p> + +<p>"Gerald? Yes, he is here—that is, excuse me, I will see!"</p> + +<p>Somewhat alarmed over the possibility of Gerald's absence, he hurried +through the house to the wing, and then into the glass-room. Gerald was +asleep. The inevitable little box of pellets upon his table told the sad +story. Edward could not awaken him.</p> + +<p>"It is unfortunate, very," he said, re-entering the library hurriedly, +"but Gerald is asleep and cannot be aroused. The truth is, he is a +victim of opium. The poor fellow is now beyond cure, I am afraid; he is +frail, nervous, excitable, and cannot live without the drug. The day has +been a very trying one for him, and this is the first time he has been +out in years!"</p> + +<p>"He must be awakened," said the general. "Of course he cannot, in the +event that these fellows want to fight, go on the field; and then his +relationship! But to-night! To-night he must be aroused! Let me go with +you." Edward started almost in terror.</p> + +<p>"It might not be well, General—it is not necessary—"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, a strange voice may have more effect than yours—no +ladies about? Of course not! Lead on, I follow." Greatly confused, +Edward led the way. As they reached the wing he exclaimed the fact of +the glass-room, the whim, the fancy of an imaginative mind, and then +they entered.</p> + +<p>Gerald was sleeping, as was his habit, with one arm extended, the other +under his head; his long hair clustering about his face. The light was +burning brightly, and the general approached. Thrilled to the heart, +Edward steeled himself for a shock. It was well he did. The general bent +forward and laid his hand on the sleeper's shoulder. Then he stepped +quickly back, seized Edward with the strength of a giant and stood there +trembling, his eyes riveted upon the pale face on the pillow.</p> + +<p>"Am I dreaming?" he asked, in a changed voice. "Is this—the young +man—you spoke of?"</p> + +<p>"It is Gerald Morgan."</p> + +<p>"Strange! Strange! That likeness! The likeness of one who will never +wake again, my friend, never! Excuse me; I was startled, overwhelmed! I +would have sworn I looked upon that face as I did in the olden time, +when I used to go and stand in the moonlight and dream above it!"</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Edward, his heart turning to ice within him, "whose was it?" +The answer came in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"It was my wife's face first, and then it was the face of my daughter!" +He drew himself up proudly, and, looking long upon the sleeper, said, +gently: "They shall not waken you, poor child. Albert Evan will take +your place!" With infinite tenderness he brushed back a lock of hair +that fell across the white brow and stood watching him.</p> + +<p>Edward turned from the scene with a feeling that it was too sacred for +intrusion. Over the sleeping form stood the old man. A generation of +loneliness, of silence, of dignified, uncomplaining manhood lay between +them. What right had he, an alien, to be dumb when a word might bring +hope and interest back to that saddened life? Was he less noble than the +man himself—than the frail being locked in the deathlike slumber?</p> + +<p>He glanced once more at Gerald. How he had risen to the issue, and in +the face of every instinct of a shrinking nature had done his part until +the delicate machinery gave way! Suppose their positions were reversed; +that he lay upon the bed, and Gerald stood gazing into the night through +the dew-gemmed glass, possessed of such a secret. Would he hesitate? No! +The answer formed itself instantly—not unless he had base blood in his +veins.</p> + +<p>It was that taint that now held back him, Edward Morgan; he was a +coward. And yet, what would be the effect if he should burst out in that +strange place with his fearful secret? There would be an outcry; Rita +would be dragged in, her story poured forth, and on him the old man's +eyes would be turned in horror and pity. Then the published card would +stand a sentence of social degradation, and he in a foreign land would +nurse the memory of a woman and his disgrace. And Royson! He ground his +teeth.</p> + +<p>"I will settle that first," he said in a hoarse whisper, "and then if it +is true I will prove, God helping me, that His spirit can animate even +the child of a slave!" He bowed his head upon his breast and wept.</p> + +<p>Presently there came to him a consciousness that the black shadow +pressing against the glass almost at his feet was more than a shadow. It +took the form of a human being and moved; then the glass gave way and +through the shivered fragments as it fell, he saw the face of Rita sink +from view. With a loud cry he dashed at the door and sprang into the +darkness! Her tall form lay doubled in the grass. He drew her into the +path of light that streamed out and bent above her. The woman struggled +to speak, moving her head from side to side and lifting it. A groan +burst from her as if she realized that the end had come and her effort +would be useless. He, too, realized it. He pointed upward quickly.</p> + +<p>"There is your God," he said, earnestly, "waiting! Tell me in His name, +am I your child? You know! A mother never forgets! Answer—close your +eyes—give me a sign if they have lied to you!"</p> + +<p>She half-rose in frantic struggle. Her eyes seemed bursting from their +sockets, and her lips framed her last sentence in almost a shriek.</p> + +<p>"They lied!"</p> + +<p>Edward was on his feet in an instant; his lips echoing her words. "They +lied!" The gaslight from within illumined his features, now bright with +triumph, as he looked upward.</p> + +<p>The old general rushed out. He saw the prostrate form and fixed eyes of +the corpse.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked, horrified. Edward turned to him, dizzily; his +gaze followed the old man's.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said, "the nurse! She has died of anxiety and watching!" A loud +summons from the ponderous knocker echoed in the house. Edward, excited, +had already begun to move away.</p> + +<p>"Hold!" exclaimed the general, "where now?"</p> + +<p>"I go to meet the slanderer of my race! God have mercy upon him now, +when we come face to face!" His manner alarmed the general. He caught +him by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Easy now, my young friend; the poor woman's fate has unnerved you; not +a step further." He led Edward to the wing-room and forced him down to +the divan. "Stay until I return!" The summons without had been renewed; +the general responded in person and found Marsden Thomas at the door, +who gazed in amazement upon the stately form before him, and after a +moment's hesitation said, stiffly:</p> + +<p>"I have a communication to deliver to Gerald Morgan. Will you kindly +summon him, general?"</p> + +<p>"I know your errand," said Evan, blandly, "and you need waste no +ceremony on me. Gerald is too ill to act longer for Edward Morgan. I +take his place to-night."</p> + +<p>"You! Gen. Evan!"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Did you ever hear that Albert Evan left a friend upon the +field? Come in, come in, Thomas; we are mixed up in this matter, but it +is not our quarrel. I want to talk with you."</p> + +<p>Thomas smiled; the matter was to end in a farce.</p> + +<p>Without realizing it, these two men were probably the last in the world +to whom should have fallen an affair of honor that might have been +settled by concessions. The bluff old general defeated Thomas' efforts +to stand on formal ground, got him into a seat, and went directly at the +matter.</p> + +<p>"It must strike you, Thomas, as absurd that in these days men cannot +settle their quarrels peacefully. There is obliged to be a right and a +wrong side always, and sometimes the right side has some fault in it and +the wrong side some justice. No man can hesitate, when this adjustment +has been made, to align himself with one and repudiate the other. Now, +we both represent friends, and neither of us can suffer them to come out +of this matter smirched. I would not be willing for Royson to do so, and +certainly not for Morgan. If we can bring both parties out safely, is it +not our duty to do so? You will agree with me!" Thomas said without +hesitation:</p> + +<p>"I waive a great deal, General, on your account, when I discuss this +matter at all; but I certainly cannot enter into the merits of the +quarrel unless you withdraw your demand upon us. You have demanded a +retraction of a charge made by us or satisfaction. You cannot expect me +to discuss the advisability of a retraction when I have here a note—"</p> + +<p>"Which you have not delivered, and which I, an old man sick of war and +quarrels, beg that you will not deliver until we have talked over this +matter fully. Why cannot Royson retract, when he has my assurance that +he is in error?"</p> + +<p>"For the reason, probably, General, that he does not believe your +statements—although his friends do!" Evan arose and paced the room. +Coming back he stood over the young man.</p> + +<p>"Did he say so? By the eternal—"</p> + +<p>"General, suppose we settle one affair at a time; I as Royson's friend, +herewith hand you, his reply to the demand of Mr. Morgan. Now, give me +your opinion as to the locality where this correspondence can be quietly +and successfully concluded, in the event that your principal wishes to +continue it." Trembling with rage the old man opened the message; it +read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Mr. Edward Morgan—Sir. I have your communication of this date +handed to me at 8 o'clock to-night by Mr. Gerald Morgan. I have +no retraction or apology to make.</p> + +<p>"Amos Royson."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Gen. Evan looked upon the missive sadly and long. He placed it upon the +table and resumed his seat, saying:</p> + +<p>"Do you understand, Mr. Thomas, that what I have said is entirely upon +my own responsibility and as a man who thinks his age and record have +given him a privilege with his young friends?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely, General. And I trust you understand that I am without the +privilege of age and record, and cannot take the same liberties." The +general made no reply, but was looking intently upon the face of the +young man. Presently he said, earnestly:</p> + +<p>"Your father and I were friends and stood together on many a bloody +field. I bore him in my arms from Shiloh and gazed upon his dead face an +hour later. No braver man ever lived than William Thomas. I believe you +are the worthy son of a noble sire and incapable of any act that could +reflect disgrace upon his name."</p> + +<p>The general continued: "You cannot link yourself to an unjust cause and +escape censure; such a course would put you at war with yourself and at +war with those who hope to see you add new honors to a name already dear +to your countrymen. When you aid and abet Amos Royson, in his attempt to +put a stigma upon Edward Morgan, you aid and abet him in an effort to do +that for which there is no excuse. Everything stated in Royson's letter, +and especially the personal part of it, can be easily disproved." Thomas +reflected a moment. Finally he said:</p> + +<p>"I thank you, General, for your kind words. The matter is not one within +my discretion, but give me the proofs you speak of, and I will make +Royson withdraw, if possible, or abandon the quarrel myself!"</p> + +<p>"I have given my word; is that not enough?"</p> + +<p>"On that only, Mr. Royson's friends require him to give Mr. Morgan the +recognition of a gentleman; without it he would not. The trouble is, you +can be mistaken." Evan reflected and a look of trouble settled upon his +face.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thomas, I am going to make a revelation involving the honor and +reputation of a family very dear to me. I do it only to save bloodshed. +Give me your word of honor that never in any way, so long as you may +live, will you reveal it. I shall not offer my unsupported word; I will +produce a witness."</p> + +<p>"You have my word of honor that your communication will be kept sacred," +said Thomas, greatly interested. The general bowed his head. Then he +raised his hand above the call bell; it did not descend. The martial +figure for a moment seemed to shrink and age. When the general looked at +length toward his visitor, he said in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"The witness is dead!" Then he arose to his feet. "It is too late!" he +added, with a slight gesture; "we shall fight!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>THE DUEL AT SUNRISE.</h3> + + +<p>From that moment they discussed the arrangements formally. These were +soon made and Thomas departed.</p> + +<p>Edward, regaining his coolness in the wing-room, with the assistance of +Virdow, who had been awakened by the disturbance, carried the body of +Rita to the house in the yard and sent for a suburban physician near at +hand. The man of medicine pronounced the woman dead. Negroes from the +quarters were summoned and took the body in charge. These arrangements +completed, he met the general in the hall.</p> + +<p>"A settlement is impossible," said the latter, sadly. "Get your buggy! +Efforts may be made by arrests to stop this affair. You must go home +with me to-night." Virdow was put in charge of the premises and an +excuse made.</p> + +<p>Alone, Edward returned to the side of the dead woman. Long and earnestly +he studied her face, and at last said: "Farewell!" Then he went to +Gerald's room and laid his lips upon the marble brow of the sleeper. +Upstairs he put certain papers and the little picture in his pocket, +closed the mother's room door and locked it. He turned and looked back +upon the white-columned house as he rode away. Only eight weeks had +passed since he first entered its doors.</p> + +<p>Before leaving, the general had stabled his horse and telephoned Montjoy +at the hotel. Taking a rear street he passed with Edward through the +city and before daylight drew up in front of the Cedars.</p> + +<p>Dueling at the time these events transpired was supposed to be dead in +the south, and practically it was. The press and pulpit, the changed +system of business and labor, state laws, but, above all these, +occupation had rendered it obsolete; but there was still an element that +resorted to the code for the settlement of personal grievances, and +sometimes the result was a bloody meeting. The new order of things was +so young that it really took more courage to refuse to fight than to +fight a duel. The legal evasion was the invitation to conclude the +correspondence outside the state.</p> + +<p>The city was all excitement. The morning papers had columns and black +head lines setting forth all the facts that could be obtained, and more +besides. There was also a brief card from Edward Morgan, denouncing the +author of the letter which had appeared in the extra and denying all +charges brought against him, both personal and political.</p> + +<p>At Mr. Royson's boarding place nothing had been seen of him since the +publication of the card, and his office was closed. Who it was that +acted for Edward Morgan was a matter of surmise, but Col. Montjoy and +Gen. Evan were in the city and quartered at the hotel. The latter had +gone to Ilexhurst and had not returned.</p> + +<p>Peace warrants for Morgan and Royson had been issued and placed in the +hands of deputies, and two of them had watched outside a glass room at +Ilexhurst waiting for a man who was asleep inside, and who had been +pointed out to them by a German visitor as Mr. Morgan, to awaken. The +sleeper, however, proved to be Gerald Morgan, an invalid.</p> + +<p>At noon a bulletin was posted to the effect that Thomas and Royson had +been seen on a South Carolina train; then another that Gen. Evan and +Edward Morgan were recognized in Alabama; then came Tennessee rumors.</p> + +<p>The truth was, so far as Edward Morgan was concerned, he was awakened +before noon, given a room in a farmhouse, remote from the Evan dwelling, +and there settled down to write important letters. One of these he +signed in the presence of witnesses. The last one contained the picture, +some papers and a short note to Gen. Evan; also Edward's surmises as to +Gerald's identity. The other letters were for Virdow, Gerald and Mary. +He had not signed the last when Evan entered the room, but was sitting +with arms folded above it and his head resting on them.</p> + +<p>"Letter writing!" said the general. "That is the worst feature of these +difficulties." He busied himself with a case he carried, turning his +back. Edward sealed his letter and completed his package.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, rising. "I am now at your service, Gen. Evan!"</p> + +<p>"The horses are ready. We shall start at once and I will give you +instructions on the way."</p> + +<p>The drive was thirty miles, to a remote station upon a branch road, +where the horses were left.</p> + +<p>Connection was made with the main line, yet more distant, and the next +dawn found them at a station on the Florida border.</p> + +<p>They had walked to the rendezvous and were waiting; Edward stood in deep +thought, his eyes fixed upon vacancy, his appearance suggesting profound +melancholy. The general watched him furtively and finally with +uneasiness. After all, the young man was a stranger to him. He had been +drawn into the difficulty by his sympathies, and based his own safety +upon his ability to read men. Experience upon the battle field, however, +had taught him that men who have never been under fire sometimes fail at +the last moment from a physical weakness unsuspected by even themselves. +What if this man should fail? He went up to Edward and laid a hand upon +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"My young friend, when you are as old as I you will realize that in +cases like this the less a man thinks the better for his nerves. +Circumstances have removed you from the realm of intellect and heart. +You are now simply the highest type of an animal, bound to preserve self +by a formula, and that is the blunt fact." Edward seemed to listen +without hearing.</p> + +<p>"General," he said, presently, "I do not want your services in this +affair under a misapprehension. I have obeyed directions up to this +moment, but before the matter goes further I must tell you what is in my +mind. My quarrel with Amos Royson is because of his injury to me and his +injury to my friends through me. He has made charges, and the customs of +this country, its traditions, make those charges an injury. I believe +the man has a right to resent any injury and punish the spirit behind +it." Gen. Evan was puzzled. He waited in silence.</p> + +<p>"I did not make these fine distinctions at first, but the matter has +been upon my mind and now I wish you to understand that if this poor +woman were my mother I would not fight a duel even if I could, simply +because someone told me so in print. If it were true, this story, there +would be no shame to me in it; there would be no shame to me unless I +deserted her. If it were true I should be her son in deed and truth. I +would take her by the hand and seek her happiness in some other land. +For, as God is my judge, to me the world holds nothing so sacred as a +mother, and I would not exchange the affections of such were she the +lowliest in the land, for all the privileges of any society. It is right +that you should know the heart of the man you are seconding. If I fall +my memory shall be clear of the charge of unmanliness."</p> + +<p>Gen. Evan's appearance, under less tragic circumstances, would have been +comical. For one instant, and for the first time in his life, he +suffered from panic. His eyes, after a moment of wide-open amazement, +turned helplessly toward the railroad and he began to feel for his +glasses. When he got them adjusted he studied his companion critically. +But the explosion that should have followed when the situation shaped +itself in the old slaveholder's mind did not come. He saw before him the +form of his companion grow and straighten, and the dark eyes, softened +by emotion, shining fearlessly into his. It was the finest appeal that +could have been made to the old soldier. He stretched out his hand +impulsively.</p> + +<p>"Unorthodox, but, by heavens, I like it!" he said.</p> + +<p>The up-train brought Royson and Thomas and a surgeon from a Florida +town. Evan was obliged to rely upon a local doctor.</p> + +<p>At sunrise the two parties stood in the shadow of live oaks, not far +apart. Evan and Thomas advanced and saluted each other formally. Evan +waited sadly for the other to speak; there was yet time for an honorable +settlement. Men in the privacy of their own rooms think one way, and +think another way in the solemn silence of a woodland sunrise.</p> + +<p>And preceding it all in this instance there had been hours for +reflection and hours of nervous apprehension. The latter told plainly +upon Amos Royson. White and haggard, he moved restlessly about his +station, watching the seconds and ever and anon stealing side-long +glances at Morgan. Why, he asked himself, did the man stare at him with +that fixed, changeless expression? Was he seeking to destroy his nerves, +to overpower him with superior will? No. The gaze was simply +contemplative; the gaze of one looking upon a landscape and considering +its features. But it was a never-ending one to all appearances.</p> + +<p>Hope died away from the general's heart at the first words of Thomas.</p> + +<p>"We are here, Gen. Evan. What is your pleasure as to the arrangements? I +would suggest that we proceed at once to end this affair. I notice that +we are beginning to attract attention and people are gathering."</p> + +<p>The general drew him aside and they conversed. The case of pistols was +opened, the weapons examined and carefully loaded and then the ground +was stepped off—fifteen paces upon a north and south line, with the +low, spreading mass of live oaks behind each station. There were no +perpendicular lines, no perspective, to influence the aim of either +party. There were really no choice of positions, but one had to be +chosen. A coin flashed in the sunlight as it rose and descended.</p> + +<p>"We win," said Thomas, simply, "and choose the north stand. Take your +place." The general smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"I have faced north before," he said. He stood upon the point +designated, and pointed to Edward. Then the latter was forced to speak. +He still gazed fixedly upon his antagonist. The general looked steadily +into his pale face, and, pointing to his own track as he moved aside, +said:</p> + +<p>"Keep cool, now, my boy, and fire instantly. These pistols are heavier +than revolvers; I chose them because the recoil of a revolver is +destructive of an amateur's aim. These will shoot to the spot. Keep +cool, keep cool, for God's sake, and remember the insult!"</p> + +<p>"Have no fear for me," said Morgan. "I will prove that no blood of a +slave is here!"</p> + +<p>He took the weapon and stood in position. He had borne in mind all the +morning the directions given by Gerald; he knew every detail of that +figure facing him in the now bright sunlight; he had sketched it in +detail to the mouth that uttered its charge against him. The hour might +pass with no disaster to him; he might fall a corpse or a cripple for +life; but so long as life lasted this picture would remain. A man with a +hard, pale face, a white shirt front, dark trousers, hand clasping +nervously a weapon, and behind all the deep green of the oaks, with +their chiaroscuro. Only one thing would be missing; the picture in mind, +clear cut and perfect in every other detail, lacked a mouth!</p> + +<p>Some one is calling to them.</p> + +<p>"Are you ready, gentlemen?" 'Twas the hundredth part of a second, but +within it he answered "yes," ready to put the pencil to that last +feature—to complete the picture for all time!</p> + +<p>"Fire!" He raised his brush and touched the spot; there was a crash, a +shock, and—what were they doing? His picture had fallen from its frame +and they were lifting it. But it was complete; the carmine was spattered +all over the lower face. He heard the general's voice:</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt, Edward?" and the pistol was taken from his grasp.</p> + +<p>"Hurt! No, indeed! But I seemed to have spoiled my painting, General. +Look! My brush must have slipped; the paint was too thin."</p> + +<p>The general hurried away.</p> + +<p>"Keep your place; don't move an inch! Can I be of assistance, +gentlemen?" he continued to the opposite party; our surgeon can aid you, +my principal being uninjured. He paused; an exclamation of horror +escaped him. The mouth and nose of Royson seemed crushed in, and he was +frantically spitting broken teeth from a bloody gap where his mouth had +been. The surgeons worked rapidly to stay the flow of crimson. While +thus busy the general in wonder picked up Royson's pistol. Its trigger +and guard were gone. He looked at the young man's right hand; the +forefinger was missing.</p> + +<p>"An ugly wound, gentlemen," he said, "but not fatal, I think. The ball +struck the guard, cut away a finger, and drove the weapon against the +mouth and nose."</p> + +<p>The surgeon looked up.</p> + +<p>"You are right, I think. A bad disfigurement of those features, but not +a dangerous wound." Thomas saluted.</p> + +<p>"I have to announce my principal disabled, General."</p> + +<p>"We are then satisfied."</p> + +<p>Returning to Edward, who was quietly contemplating the scene with little +apparent interest, he said, almost gayly:</p> + +<p>"A fine shot, Edward; a fine shot! His pistol saved him! If he had +raised it an instant later he would have been struck fairly in the mouth +by your bullet! Let us be going."</p> + +<p>"It is perhaps fortunate that my shot was fired when it was," said +Edward. "I have a bullet hole through the left side of my shirt." The +general looked at the spot and then at the calm face of the speaker.</p> + +<p>He extended his hand again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE SHADOW OVER THE HALL.</h3> + + +<p>Col. Montjoy returned home early. He rode into the yard and entered the +house with as much unconcern as he could affect. Annie met him at the +door with an unusual display of interest. Had he rested well? Was not +the hotel warm, and—was there anything of interest stirring in the +city? To all these questions he responded guardedly and courteously. +Mary's white face questioned him. He put his arm about her.</p> + +<p>"And how is the little mamma to-day—have her eyes given her any more +trouble?"</p> + +<p>"She is staying in the darkened room to avoid the light," said the girl. +He went to her and the two young women were left alone. Annie was +smiling and bent upon aggravation.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall ride in," she said at length. "There is something afoot +that is being kept from me. Amos Royson is my cousin and I have a right +to know if he is in trouble." Mary did not reply for a moment. At last +she said:</p> + +<p>"A man having written such a letter must expect to find himself in +trouble—and danger, too." The other laughed contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"I did not say danger! Amos has little to fear from the smooth-faced, +milk-and-water man he has exposed."</p> + +<p>"Wait and see," was the reply. "Amos Royson is a coward; he will not +only find himself in danger, but if necessary to save himself from a +cowhiding will involve other people—even a woman!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? You have not always thought him a coward; you have +accepted his attentions and would have married him if you had had the +chance." Mary looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"I treated him with politeness because he was your cousin; that is all. +As for marriage with him, that is too absurd to have even occurred to +me."</p> + +<p>Annie ordered Isam to bring her pony carriage, and as she waited Mary +watched her in silence and with a strange expression upon her face. When +her father returned she said, resolutely:</p> + +<p>"Annie, I was awake last night and heard a horse coming. Thinking it +might be papa, although the pace was rather fast for him, I went out to +the gate. There was a negro with a note for you from Mr. Royson. Mamma +had just got to sleep and I was afraid of waking her, so I sent Mr. +Royson word to see papa at the hotel."</p> + +<p>The sister-in-law seized her by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"By what right, miss, do you meddle with my business! It may have been a +question of a man's life! You have ruined everything!" She was trembling +with rage. Mary faced her resolutely.</p> + +<p>"And it may have been a question of a man's honor. In either case, my +father is the one to consult!"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, both of you! Annie—Mary, I desire this matter to end at +once!" Col. Montjoy spoke calmly but firmly. He retained his clasp upon +his daughter's hand and gradually as he talked drew her to his knees.</p> + +<p>"There is a serious difficulty pending between Mr. Morgan and Amos +Royson, as you both probably know," he said, quietly. "The matter is in +good hands, however, and I think will be satisfactorily arranged. I do +not know which were better, to have delivered Amos' note or not. It was +a question Mary had to decide upon the spur of the moment. She took a +safe course, at least. But it is unseemly, my children, to quarrel over +it! Drop the matter now and let affairs shape themselves. We cannot take +one side or the other." Annie made no reply, but her lips wore their +ironical smile as she moved away.</p> + +<p>Mary hid her face upon her father's breast and wept softly. She knew +that he did not blame her, and she knew by intuition that she had done +right, but she was not satisfied. No shadow should come between her +father and herself.</p> + +<p>"I was certain," she said, "that there was something wrong in that note. +You remember what I told you. And I was determined that those two people +should not hatch up any more mischief in this house. Mr. Morgan's safety +might have depended upon keeping them apart." The colonel laughed and +shook his head. But he only said:</p> + +<p>"If it will help clear up your skies a little, I don't mind telling you +that I would not have had that note delivered last night for half this +plantation." She was satisfied then.</p> + +<p>"Who ordered the cart, Isam?" The negro was at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Young mis', sah. She goin' to town."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can put it back. It will not be necessary for her to go now. +Annie," he said, turning to that lady, as she appeared in the door, "I +have sent the cart back. I prefer that none of my family be seen upon +the streets to-day." There was an unwonted tone in his voice which she +did not dare disregard. With a furious look, which only Mary saw, she +returned to her room. A negro upon a mule brought a note. It read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Norton: All attempts at settlement have failed. I should +like to see you, but think you had better maintain strict +neutrality, will wire you to-morrow.</p> + +<p>"A. E."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"There is no answer," he said to the boy. And then, greatly depressed, +he went to his room. Mary, who read every thought correctly, knew that +the matter was unsettled and that her father was hopeless. She went +about her duties steadily, but with her heart breaking. The chickens, +pigeons, the little kids, the calves—none of them felt the tragedy in +their lives. Their mistress was grave and unappreciative; nothing more. +But her eyes were not closed. She saw little Jerry armed with a note go +out on the mare across the lower-creek bridge, and the expectant face of +Annie for two hours or more in every part of the house that commanded a +view of that unused approach.</p> + +<p>Then Jerry came back and went to the sister-in-law's door. He had not +reached his quarters before Mary called him to help her catch a +fractious hen. Then she got him into the dining-room and cut an enormous +slice of iced cake.</p> + +<p>"Jerry," she said, "how would you like that?" Jerry's white eyes and +teeth shone resplendent. He shifted himself to his left foot and +laughed. "Tell me where you have been and it is yours." Jerry looked +abashed and studied a silver quarter he held in his hand, then he +glanced around cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Honest, missy?"</p> + +<p>"Honest! Quick, or I put the cake back." She made a feint.</p> + +<p>"Been to town."</p> + +<p>"Of course. Who was the note for?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Royson."</p> + +<p>"Did he answer it?"</p> + +<p>"No'm. Couldn't find him. Er nigger tole me he gone ter fight wid Mr. +Morgan, and everybody waitin' ter hear de news."</p> + +<p>"You can—go—Jerry. There," she handed him the cake, and, walking +unsteadily, went to her room. She did not come out until supper time and +then her face was proof that the "headache" was not feigned.</p> + +<p>And so into the night. She heard the doors open and shut, the sound of +her father's footsteps on the porch as he came and went. She went out +and joined him, taking his arm.</p> + +<p>"Papa," she said, after awhile, "you need not keep it from me. I know +all. They did not settle it. Mr. Morgan and Mr. Royson have gone to +fight." She could not proceed. Her father laid his hand upon hers.</p> + +<p>"It will all come out right, Mary; it will all come out right." +Presently he said: "Amos used to come here. I hope you are not +interested in him."</p> + +<p>"No," she said bitterly, "I could never think much of Annie's relatives. +One in the family is enough."</p> + +<p>"Hush, my child; everything must give way now on Norton's account. Don't +forget him. But for Norton I would have settled this matter in another +way."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and but for him there would never have been a necessity. Amos +depended upon his relationship to keep you out of it." Col. Montjoy had +long unconsciously relied upon the clear mind of the girl, but he was +not prepared for this demonstration of its wisdom. He wondered anew as +he paced the floor in silence. She continued: "But Amos is only the +tool, papa; all of us have an enemy here in the house. Annie——"</p> + +<p>"Hush! Hush!" he whispered, "don't say it. It seems too awful to think +of! Annie is foolish! She must never know, on Norton's account, that she +is in any way suspected of complicity in this matter." And then in +silence they waited for dawn.</p> + +<p>At last the merciful sun rolled away the shadows. Breakfast was a sad +affair. All escaped from it as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>It was a fateful day—7, 8, 9 o'clock. The matter was ended; but how? +Mary's haggard face questioned her father at every turn. He put his arm +about her and went to see her pets and charges, but still no word +between them. She would not admit her interest in Edward Morgan, nor +would he admit to himself that she had an interest at stake.</p> + +<p>And then toward noon there came a horseman, who placed a message in his +hands. He read it and handed it to Mary. If he had not smiled she could +not have read it. One word only was there:</p> + +<p>"Safe!"</p> + +<p>Her father was at the moment unfolding an 'extra.' She read it with him +in breathless interest. Following an unusual display of headlines came +an accurate account of the duel. Only a small part of the padded +narrative is reproduced here:</p> + +<p>"Royson was nervous and excited and showed the effects of unrest. But +Morgan stood like a statue. For some reason he never moved his eyes from +his adversary a moment after they reached the field. Both men fired at +the command, their weapons making but one report. Some think, however, +that Morgan was first by the hundredth part of a second, and this is +possible, as the single report sounded like a crash or a prolonged +explosion. Royson fell, and it was supposed was certainly killed. He +presented a frightful appearance instantly, being covered with blood. It +was quickly ascertained, however, that he was not dangerously hurt, his +opponent's shot having cut off a finger and the pistol guard, had hurled +the heavy weapon into his face. He escaped with a broken nose and the +loss of his front teeth.</p> + +<p>"Morgan, who had preserved his wonderful coolness from the first, +received a bullet through a fold of his shirt that darkened the skin to +the left of his heart. It was a narrow escape. Parties took the up +train."</p> + +<p>The extra went on to say that since the first reading of the original +card the public mind had undergone a revulsion in Morgan's favor; a +feeling greatly stimulated by the fact that Gen. Evan had come to the +rescue of that gentleman; had vouched for him in every respect and was +acting as his second. When the colonel had finished the thrilling news +he noticed that Mary's head was in his lap, and felt tears upon his hand +above which her own were clasped. Annie was looking on, cold and white.</p> + +<p>"There has been a duel, my daughter," he said to her kindly, "and, +fortunately, without alarming results. Mr. Royson lost a finger, I +believe, and received a bruise in the face; that is all. Nothing +serious. It might have been much worse. Here is the paper," he +concluded, "probably an exaggerated account." She took it in silence and +returned to her room. She ran her eye through every sentence without +reading and at last threw the sheet aside.</p> + +<p>Only those who knew the whole character of Annie Montjoy would have +understood. She was looking for her name; it was not there. Her smiling +face was proof enough.</p> + +<p>Long they sat, father and daughter, his hand still stroking lightly her +bowed head. At last he said, very gently, the hand trembling a little:</p> + +<p>"This has been a hard trial for us both—for us both! I am glad it is +over! Morgan is too fine a fellow to have been sacrificed to this man's +hatred and ambition." She looked up, her face wet and flushed.</p> + +<p>"There was more than that, papa."</p> + +<p>"More? How could there be?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated, and then said, bravely: "Mr. Royson has more than once +asked me to marry him." The colonel's face grew black with sudden rage.</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"And he has imagined that because Mr. Morgan came to help your +election—oh, I cannot." She turned hastily and went away in confusion.</p> + +<p>And still the colonel sat and thought with clouded face.</p> + +<p>"I must ask Evan," he said.</p> + +<p>"Colonel, Mis' Calline says come deir, please." A servant stood by him. +He arose and went into his wife's room. She was standing by the open +window, its light flooding the apartment, her bandages removed.</p> + +<p>"Why, Caroline, you are imprudent, don't you know? What is it, my dear? +She was silent and rigid, a living statue bathed in the glory of the +autumn sun. She waited until she felt his hand in hers.</p> + +<p>"Norton," she said, simply, but with infinite pathos, "I am afraid that +I have seen your loved face for the last time. I am blind!" He took her +in his arms—the form that even age could not rob of its +girlishness—and pressed her face to his breast. It had come at last. +His tears fell for the first time since boyhood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE PROFILE ON THE MOON.</h3> + + +<p>Virdow felt the responsibility of his position. He had come on a +scientific errand and found himself plunged into a tragedy. And there +were attendant responsibilities, the most serious of which was the +revelation to Gerald of what had occurred.</p> + +<p>The young man precipitated the crisis. The deputies gone, he wanted his +coffee; it had not failed him in a lifetime. Again and again he rang his +bell, and finally from the door of his wing-room called loudly for Rita. +Then the professor saw that the time for action had come. The watchers +about the body were consulting. None cared to face that singular being +of whom they felt a superstitious dread, but if they did not come to him +he would finally go to them. What would be the result of his unexpected +discovery of the tragedy? It might be disastrous. As he spoke, he +removed his glasses from time to time, carefully wiping and replacing +them, his faded eyes beaming in sympathy and anxiety upon his young +acquaintance.</p> + +<p>"Herr Gerald," he began, "you know the human heart?" Gerald frowned and +surveyed him with impatience.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes at last the little valve, as you call it—sometimes the +little valve grows weak, and when the blood leaps out too quickly and +can't run on quickly enough—you understand—it comes back suddenly +again and drives the valve lid back the wrong way."</p> + +<p>"Then it is a ruined piece of machinery."</p> + +<p>"So," said the professor, sadly; "you have stated it correctly. So, +Rita—she had an old heart—and it is ruined!"</p> + +<p>Gerald gazed upon him in doubt, but fearful.</p> + +<p>"You mean Rita is dead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Virdow. "Poor Rita!" Gerald studied the face before him +curiously, passed his hand across his brow, as if to clear away a cloud, +and then went out across the yard. The watchers fled at his approach. In +the little room he came upon the body. The woman, dressed in her best +but homely attire, lay with her hands crossed upon her bosom, her face +calm and peaceful. Upon her lips was that strange smile which sometimes +comes back over a gulf of time from forgotten youth. He touched her +wrist and watched her.</p> + +<p>Virdow was right; she was dead.</p> + +<p>As if to converse with a friend, he took a seat upon the couch and +lifting one cold hand held it while he remained. This was Rita, who had +always come to wake him when he slept too late; had brought his meals, +had answered whenever he called, and found him when he wandered too long +under the stars and guided him back to his room. Rita, who, when his +moods distracted him, had only to fix her eyes on his and speak his +name, and all was peace again.</p> + +<p>This was Rita. Dead!</p> + +<p>How could it be? How could anything be wrong with Rita? It was +impossible! He put his hand above the heart; it was silent. He spoke her +name. She did not reply.</p> + +<p>Gradually, as he concentrated his attention upon the facts, his mind +emerged from its shadows. Yes, Rita, his friend, was dead. And then +slowly, his life, with its haunting thoughts, its loneliness, came back, +and the significance of these facts overwhelmed him.</p> + +<p>He knew now who Rita was; it was an old, old story. He knelt and laid +his cheek upon that yellow chilled hand, the only hand that had ever +lovingly touched him.</p> + +<p>She had been a mother indeed; humoring his every whim. She had never +scolded; not Rita!</p> + +<p>The doctors had said he could sleep without his opium; they shut him up +and he suffered torments. Rita came in the night. Her little store of +money had been drawn on. They, together, deceived the doctors. For years +they deceived them, he and Rita, until all her little savings were gone. +And then she had worked for the gentlemen down-town; had schemed and +plotted and brought him comfort, until the doctors gave up the struggle.</p> + +<p>Now she was gone—forever! Strange, but this contingency had never once +occurred to him. How egotistical he must have been; how much a child—a +spoiled child!</p> + +<p>He looked about him. Rita had years ago told him a secret. In the night +she had bent over him and called him fond names; had wept upon his +pillow. She had told him to speak the word just once, never again but +that one time, and then to forget it. Wondering he said it—"Mother." He +could not forget how she fell upon him then and tearfully embraced him; +he the heir and nephew of John Morgan. But it pleased good Rita and he +was happy.</p> + +<p>Dead! Rita! Would it waken her if he spoke that name again? He bent to +her cheek to say it, but first he looked about him cautiously. Rita +would not like for any one to share the secret. He bent until his lips +were touching hers and whispered it again:</p> + +<p>"Mother!" She did not move. He spoke louder and louder.</p> + +<p>"Mother." How strange sounded that one word in the deserted room. A fear +seized him; would she never speak again? He dropped on his knees in +agony; and, with his hand upon her forehead, almost screamed the word +again. It echoed for the last time—"Mother!" Just then the face of +Virdow appeared at the door, to be withdrawn instantly.</p> + +<p>Then Gerald grew cool. "She is dead," he said, sadly to himself. "She +would have answered that!"</p> + +<p>A change came over him! He seemed to emerge from a dream; Virdow stood +by him now. Drawing himself up proudly he gazed upon the dead face.</p> + +<p>"She was a good nurse—a better no child ever had. Were my uncle living +he would build her a great monument. I will speak to Edward about it. It +is not seemly that people who have served the Morgans so long and +faithfully should sleep in unmarked graves. Farewell, Rita; you have +been good and true to me." He went to his room. An hour later Virdow +found him there, crying as a child.</p> + +<p>With a tenderness that rose superior to the difficulties of language and +the differences of race and customs, Virdow comforted and consoled him. +And then occurred one of those changes familiar to the students of +nature but marvelous to the unobservant. To Virdow, who had seen the +vine of his garden torn from the supporting rod about which it had tied +itself with tendrils, attach itself again by the gluey points of new +ones to the smooth face of the wall itself, coiling them into springs to +resist the winds, the change that came upon Gerald was natural. The +broken tendrils of his life touched with quick intelligence the +sympathetic old German and linked the simple being of the child-man to +him. By an intuition, womanly in its swift comprehension, Virdow knew at +once that he had become in some ways necessary to the life of the frail +being, and he was pleased. He gave himself up to the mission without +effort, disturbing in no way the new process. Watching Gerald, he +appeared not to watch; present at all times, he seemed to keep himself +aloof.</p> + +<p>Virdow called up an undertaker from the city in accordance with the +directions left with him and had the body of Rita prepared for the +burial, which was to take place upon the estate, and then left all to +the care of the watchers. During the day from time to time Gerald went +to the little room, and on such visits those in attendance withdrew.</p> + +<p>There was little excitement among the negroes. The singing, shouting and +violent ecstasies which distinguished the burials of the race were +wanting; Rita had been one of those rare servants who keep aloof from +her color. Gradually withdrawn from all contact with the world, her life +had shrunk into a little round of duties and the care of the Morgan +home.</p> + +<p>It was only natural that the young master should find himself alone with +the nurse on each return to her coffin. During one of these visits +Virdow at a distance beheld a curious thing. Gerald had gazed long and +thoughtfully into the silent face and returning to his room had secured +paper and crayon. Kneeling, he drew carefully the profile of his dead +friend and went away to his studio. Standing in his place a moment +later, Virdow was surprised to note the change that had come over the +face; the relaxing power of death seemed to have rolled back the curtain +of age and restored for the hour a glimpse of youth. A woman of +twenty-five seemed lying there, her face noble and serene, a glorified +glimpse of what had been. The brow was smooth and young, the facial +angle high, the hair, now no longer under the inevitable turban, smooth +and black, with just a suspicion of frost above the temples. The lips +were curved and smiling.</p> + +<p>Why had the young man drawn her profile? What real position did this +woman occupy in that strange family? As to the latter he could not +determine; he would not try. He had nothing to do with the domestic +facts of life. There had been a deep significance in the first scene at +the bedside. And yet "Mother" under the circumstances might after all +mean nothing. He had heard that southern children were taught this, or +something like it, by all black nurses. But as to the profile, there was +a phenomenon possibly, and science was his life. The young man had drawn +the profile because it was the first time he had within his +recollections ever seen it. In the analysis of his dreams that profile +might be of momentous importance.</p> + +<p>The little group that had gathered followed the coffin to a clump of +trees not far removed. The men who bore it lowered it at once to the +open grave. An old negro preacher lifted his voice in a homely prayer, +the women sang a weird hymn, and then they filled up the cavity. The +face and form of Rita were removed from human vision, but only the face +and form. For one of that concourse, the young white man who had come +bareheaded to stand calm and silent at the foot of the grave, she lived +clear and distinct upon the hidden film of memory.</p> + +<p>Virdow was not deceived by that calmness; he knew and feared the +reaction which was inevitable. From time to time during the evening he +had gone silently to the wing-room and to the outer yard to gaze in upon +his charge. Always he found him calm and rational. He could not +understand it.</p> + +<p>Then, disturbed by the suspense of Edward's absence, and the uncertainty +of his fate, he would forget himself and surroundings in contemplation +of the possible disasters of an American duel—exaggerated accounts of +which dwelt in his memory. He resolved to remain up until the crisis +came.</p> + +<p>It was midnight when, for the twentieth time, probably, he went to look +in upon Gerald. The wing-room, the glass-room, the little house deprived +by death of its occupant, the outer premises—he searched them all in +vain. Greatly troubled, he stood revolving the new perplexity in his +mind when his eye caught in the faint glow of the east, where the moon +was beginning to show its approach, the outline of the cemetery clump of +trees. It flashed upon him then that, drawn by the power of association, +the young man might have wandered off to pay a visit to the grave of his +friend. He turned his own feet in the same direction, and approached the +spot. The grave had been dug under the wide-spread limbs of cedar, and +there he found the object of his quest.</p> + +<p>Slowly the moon rose above the level field beyond, outlining a form. In +his dressing gown stood Gerald, with folded arms, his long hair falling +upon his shoulders, lost in deep thought.</p> + +<p>Thrilled by the scene, Virdow was about to speak, when, in the twinkling +of an eye, there was flashed upon him a vision that sent his blood back +to his heart and left him speechless with emotion. For in that moment +the half-moon was at the level of the head, and outlined against its +silver surface he saw the profile of the face he had studied in the +coffin. Appalled by the discovery, he turned silently and sought his +room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE MIDNIGHT SEARCH.</h3> + + +<p>It was late in the day when Virdow awoke. The excitement, the unwonted +hours which circumstances forced him to keep, brought at last unbroken +rest and restored his physical structure to its normal condition.</p> + +<p>He dressed himself and descended to find a brief telegram announcing the +safety of Edward. It was a joyful addition to the conditions that had +restored him. The telegram had not been opened. He went quickly to +Gerald's room and found that young man at work upon a painting of Rita +as he had seen her last—the profile sketch. His emotional nature had +already thrown off its gloom, and with absorbed interest he was pushing +his work. Already the face had been sketched in and the priming +completed. Under his rapid and skillful hands the tints and contours +were growing, and Virdow, accustomed as he was to the art in all its +completeness and technical perfection, marveled to see the changed face +of the woman glide back into view, the counterpart he knew of the vivid +likeness clear cut in the sensitive brain that held it. He let him work +undisturbed. A word might affect its correctness. Only when the artist +ceased and laid aside his brush for a brief rest did he speak.</p> + +<p>Gerald turned to him as to a co-laborer, and took the yellow slip of +paper, so potent with intelligent lettering. He read it in silence; then +putting it aside went on with his painting. Virdow rubbed his brow and +studied him furtively. Such lack of interest was inconceivable under the +conditions. He went to work seriously to account for it and this he did +to his own satisfaction. In one of his published lectures on memory, +years after, occurred this sentence, based upon that silent reverie:</p> + +<p>"Impressions and forgetfulness are measurable by each other; indeed, the +power of the mind to remember vividly seems to be measured by its power +to forget."</p> + +<p>But afterward Gerald picked up the telegram, read it intently and seemed +to reflect over the information it contained. Later in the day the +postman brought the mail and with it one of the "extras." Virdow read it +aloud in the wing-room. Gerald came and stood before him, his eyes +revealing excitement. When Virdow reached the part wherein Edward was +described as never removing his eyes from his antagonist, his hearer +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Good! He will kill him!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Virdow, smiling; "fortunately he did not. Listen."</p> + +<p>"Fortunately!" cried Gerald; "fortunately! Why? What right has such a +man to live? He must have killed him!" Virdow read on. A cry broke from +Gerald's lips as the explanation appeared.</p> + +<p>"I was right! The hand becomes a part of the eye when the mind wills it; +or, rather, eye and hand become mind. The will is everything. But why he +should have struck the guard——" He went to the wall and took down two +pistols. Handing one to Virdow and stepping back he said: "You will +please sight at my face a moment; I cannot understand how the accident +could have happened." Virdow held the weapon gingerly.</p> + +<p>"But, Herr Gerald, it may be loaded."</p> + +<p>"They are empty," said Gerald, breeching his own and exposing the +cylinder chambers, with the light shining through. "Now aim!" Virdow +obeyed; the two men stood at ten paces, aiming at each other's faces. +"Your hand," said the young man, "covers your mouth. Edward aimed for +the mouth."</p> + +<p>There was a quick, sharp explosion; Virdow staggered back, dropping his +smoking pistol. Gerald turned his head in mild surprise and looked upon +a hole in the plastering behind.</p> + +<p>"I have no recollection of loading that pistol," he said. And then: "If +your mind had been concentrated upon your aim I would have lost a finger +and had my weapon driven into my face." Virdow was shocked at the narrow +escape and pale as death.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," said Gerald, replacing the weapon; "you would not hit +me in a dozen trials, shooting as you do."</p> + +<p>At 10 o'clock that night Edward, pale and weary, entered. He returned +with emotion the professor's enthusiastic embrace, and thanked him for +his care and attention of Gerald and the household and for his services +to the dead. Gerald studied him keenly as he spoke, and once went to one +side and looked upon him with new and curious interest. The professor +saw that he was examining the profile of the speaker by the aid of the +powerful lamp on the table beyond. The discovery set his mind to working +in the same direction, and soon he saw the profiles of both. Edward's +did not closely resemble the other. That this was true, for some reason, +the expression that had settled upon Gerald's face attested. The +portrait had been covered and removed.</p> + +<p>Edward, after concluding some domestic arrangements, went directly to +his room and, dressed as he was, threw himself upon his bed and slept.</p> + +<p>And as he slept there took place about him a drama that would have set +his heart beating with excitement could he have witnessed it. The house +was silent; the city clock had tolled the midnight hour, when Gerald +came into the room, bearing a shaded lamp. The sleeper lay on his back, +locked in the slumber of exhaustion. The visitor, moving with the +noiselessness of a shadow, glided to the opposite side of the bed, and, +placing the lamp on a chair, slowly turned up the flame and tilted the +shade. In an instant the strong profile of the sleeper flashed upon the +wall. With suppressed excitement Gerald unwrapped a sheet of cardboard, +and standing it on the mantel received upon it the shadow. As if by a +supreme effort, he controlled himself and traced the profile on his +paper. Lifting it from the mantel he studied it for a moment intently +and then replaced it. The shadow filled the tracing. Taking it slowly +from its position he passed from the room. Fortunately his distraction +was too great for him to notice the face of Virdow, or to perceive it in +the deep gloom of the little room as he passed out.</p> + +<p>The German waited a few moments; no sound came back from the broad +carpeted stair; taking the forgotten lamp, he followed him silently. +Passing out into the shrubbery, he made his way to the side of the +conservatory and looked in. Gerald had placed the two profiles, one on +each side of the mirror, and with a duplex glass was studying his own in +connection with them. He stood musing, and then, as if forgetting his +occupation, he let the hand-glass crash upon the floor, tossed his arms +in an abandonment of emotion, and, covering his face with his hands, +suddenly threw himself across the bed.</p> + +<p>Virdow was distressed and perplexed. He read the story in the pantomime, +but what could he do? No human sympathy could comfort such a grief, nor +could he betray his knowledge of the secret he had surreptitiously +obtained. He paced up and down outside until presently the moving shadow +of the occupant of the room fell upon his path. He saw him then take +from a box a little pill and put it in his mouth, and he knew that the +troubles of life, its doubts, distress and loneliness, would be +forgotten for hours.</p> + +<p>Forgotten? Who knows? Oh, mystery of creation; that invisible +intelligence that vanishes in sleep and in death; gone on its voyage of +discovery, appalling in its possibilities; but yet how useless, since it +must return with no memory of its experience!</p> + +<p>And he, Virdow, what a dreamer! For in that German brain of subtleties +lived, with the clearness of an incandescent light in the depths of a +coal mine, one mighty purpose; one so vast, so potent in its +possibilities, as to shake the throne of reason, a resolution to follow +upon the path of mind and wake a memory never touched in the history of +science. It was not an ambition; it was a leap toward the gates of +heaven! For what cared he that his name might shine forever in the +annals of history if he could claim of his own mind the record of its +wanderings? The future was not his thought. What he sought was the +memory of the past!</p> + +<p>He went in now, secure of the possibility of disturbing the sleeper, and +stood looking down into the room's appointments; there were the two +profiles on either side of the mirror; upon the floor the shivered +fragments of the hand-glass.</p> + +<p>Virdow returned to his room, but before leaving he took from the little +box one of the pellets and swallowed it. If he was to know that mind, he +must acquaint himself with its conditions. He had never before swallowed +the drug; he took this as the Frenchman received the attenuated virus of +hydrophobia from the hands of Pasteur—in the interest of science and +the human race.</p> + +<p>As he lay upon his bed he felt a languor steal upon him, saw in far +dreams cool meadows and flowery slopes, felt the solace of perfect +repose envelop him. And then he stood beside a stream of running water +under the shade of the trees, with the familiar hills of youth along the +horizon. A young woman came and stood above the stream and looked +intently upon its glassy surface. Her feature were indistinct. Drawing +near he, too, looked into the water, and there at his feet was the sad, +sweet face of—Marion Evan. He turned and then looked closer at the +woman; he saw in her arms the figure of an infant, over whose face she +had drawn a fold of her gown. She shook her head as he extended his hand +to remove this and pointed behind her. There the grass ran out and only +white sand appeared, with no break to the horizon.</p> + +<p>Toiling on through this, with a bowed head, was a female figure. He knew +her; she was Rita, and the burden she, too, carried in her arms was the +form of a child. The figures disappeared and a leaf floated down the +stream; twenty-six in succession followed, and then he saw a man +descending the mountains and coming forward, his eyes fixed on something +beyond him. It was Edward. He looked in the same direction; there was a +frail man toiling toward him through the deep sands in the hot sunlight. +It was Gerald. And then the figures faded away. There memory ceased to +record.</p> + +<p>Whatever else was the experience of that eager mind as it wandered on +through the mystery, and phantasmagoria has no place in science. He +remembered in the morning up to one point only.</p> + +<p>It was his last experience with the drug.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>GATHERING THE CLEWS.</h3> + + +<p>Edward drifted for several days upon the tide of the thoughts that came +over him. He felt a singular disinclination to face the world again. He +knew that as life goes he had acquitted himself manfully and that +nothing remained undone that had been his duty to perform. He was +sensible of a feeling of deep gratitude to the old general for his +active and invaluable backing; without it he realized then that he would +have been drawn into a pitfall and the opportunity for defense gone. He +did not realize, however, how complete the public reaction had been +until card after card had been left at Ilexhurst and the postman had +deposited congratulatory missives by the score. One of these contained +notice of his election to the club.</p> + +<p>Satisfactory as was all this he put aside the social and public life +into which he had been drawn, conscious that, while the affront to him +had been resented and rendered harmless, he himself was as much in the +dark as ever; that as a matter of fact he was without name and family, +without right to avail himself of the generous offers laid at his door. +Despite his splendid residence, his future, his talents and his prestige +as a man of honor, he was—nobody; an accident of fate; a whim of an +eccentric old man.</p> + +<p>He should not involve any one else in the possibility of ruin. He should +not let another share his danger. There could be no happiness with this +mystery hanging over him.</p> + +<p>Soon after his return, while his heart was yet sore and disturbed, he +had received a note from Mary. She wrote:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We suffer greatly on your account. Poor papa was bound down by +circumstances with which you are familiar, though he would gone +to you at any cost had it been necessary. In addition his +health is very delicate and he has been facing a heavy +sorrow—now realized at last! Poor little mamma's eyesight is +gone—forever, probably. We are in deep distress, as you may +imagine, for, unused as yet to her misfortune, she is quite +helpless and needs our constant care, and it is pitiful to see +her efforts to bear up and be cheerful.</p> + +<p>"I need not tell you how I have sorrowed over the insult and +wrongs inflicted upon you by a cowardly connection of our +family, nor how anxious I was until the welcome news of your +safety reached us. We owe you much, and more now since you were +made the innocent victim of a plot aimed to destroy papa's +chances.</p> + +<p>"It is unbearable to think of your having to stand up and be +shot at in our behalf; but oh, how glad I am that you had the +old general with you. Is he not noble and good? He is quite +carried away with you and never tires of talking of your +coolness and courage. He says everything has ended beautifully +but the election, and he could remedy that if papa would +consent, but nothing in the world could take papa away from us +now, and if he had been elected his resignation would have +speedily followed.</p> + +<p>"I know you are yet weary and bitter, and do not even care to +see your friends, but that will pass and none will give you a +more earnest welcome when you do come than</p> + +<p>"Mary."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He read this many times, and each time found in it a new charm. Its +simplicity and earnestness impressed him at one reading and its personal +interest at another; its quick discerning sympathy in another.</p> + +<p>It grew upon him, that letter. It was the only letter ever penned by a +woman to him. Notes he had had by the score; rich young men in the great +capitals of Europe do not escape nor seek to escape these, but this was +straight from the heart of an earnest, self-reliant, sympathetic woman; +one of those who have made the South a fame as far as her sons have +traveled. It was a new experience and destined to be a lasting one.</p> + +<p>Its effect was in the end striking and happy. Gradually he roused +himself from the cynical lethargy into which he was sinking and began to +look about him. After all he had much to live for, and with peace came +new manhood. He would fight for the woman who had faith in him—such a +fight as man never dared before. He looked up to find Virdow smiling on +him through his tears.</p> + +<p>He stood up. "I am going to make a statement now that will surprise and +shock you, but the reason will be sufficient. First I ask that you +promise me, as though we stood before our Creator, a witness, that never +in this life nor the next, if consciousness of this goes with you, will +you betray by word or deed anything of what you hear from my lips +to-night. I do not feel any uneasiness, but promise."</p> + +<p>"I promise," said Virdow, simply, "but if it distresses you, if you feel +bound to me—"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, the reason is selfish entirely. I tell you because the +possession of this matter is destroying my ability to judge fairly; +because I want help and believe you are the only being in the world who +can give it." He spoke earnestly and pathetically. "Without it, I shall +become—a wreck." Then Virdow seized the speaker's hand.</p> + +<p>"Go on, Edward. All the help that Virdow can give is yours in advance."</p> + +<p>Edward related to him the causes that led up to the duel—the political +campaign, the publication of Royson's card, and the history of the +challenge.</p> + +<p>"You call me Edward," he said; "the world knows me and I know myself as +Edward Morgan. I have no evidence whatever to believe myself entitled to +bear the name. All the evidence I have points to the fact that it was +bestowed upon me as was my fortune itself—in pity. The mystery that +overspreads me envelops Gerald also. But fate has left him superior to +misfortune."</p> + +<p>"It has already done for him what you fear for yourself—it has wrecked +his life, if not his mind!" The professor spoke the words sadly and +gently, looking into the night through the open window.</p> + +<p>Edward turned toward him in wonder.</p> + +<p>"I am sure. Listen and I will tell you why. To me it seems fatal to him, +but for you there is consolation." Graphically he described then the +events that had transpired during the few days of his stay at Ilexhurst; +his quick perception that the mind of Gerald was working feverishly, +furiously, and upon defined lines to some end; that something haunted +and depressed him. His secret was revealed in his conduct upon the death +of Rita.</p> + +<p>"It is plain," said Virdow finally, "that this thought—this +uncertainty—which has haunted you for weeks, has been wearing upon him +since childhood. Of the events that preceded it I have little or no +information."</p> + +<p>Edward, thrilled to the heart by this recital and the fact to which it +seemed to point, walked the floor greatly agitated. Presently he said:</p> + +<p>"Of these you shall judge also." He took from the desk in the adjoining +room the fragmentary story and read it. "This," he said, as he saw the +face of the old man beam with intelligence, "is confirmed as an incident +in the life of Gerald or myself; in fact, the beginning of life." He +gave the history of the fragmentary story and of Rita's confession.</p> + +<p>"By this evidence," he went on, "I was led to believe that the woman +erred in the recognition of her own child; that I am in fact that child +and that Gerald is the son of Marion. This in her last breath she seemed +to deny, for when I begged her to testify upon it, as before her God, +and asked the question direct, she cried out: 'They lied!' In this it +seems to me that her heart went back to its secret belief and that in +the supreme moment she affirmed forever his nativity. Were this all I +confess I would be satisfied, but there is a fatal fact to come!" He +took from his pocket the package prepared for Gen. Evan, and tore from +it the picture of Marion.</p> + +<p>"Now," he exclaimed excitedly, "as between the two of us, how can this +woman be other than the mother of Gerald Morgan? And, if I could be +mistaken as to the resemblance, how could her father fall into my error? +For I swear to you that on the night he bent over the sleeping man he +saw upon the pillow the face of his wife and daughter blended in those +features!" Virdow was looking intently upon the picture.</p> + +<p>"Softly, softly," he said, shaking his head; "it is a true likeness, but +it does not prove anything. Family likeness descends only surely by +profiles. If we could see her profile, but this! There is no reason why +the child of Rita should not resemble another. It would depend upon the +impression, the interest, the circumstances of birth, of associations—" +He paused. "Describe to me again the mind picture which Gerald under the +spell of music sketched—give it exactly." Edward gave it in detail.</p> + +<p>"That," said Virdow, "was the scene flashed upon the woman who gazed +from the arch. It seems impossible for it to have descended to Gerald, +except by one of the two women there—the one to whom the man's back was +turned. Had this mental impression come from the other source it seems +to me he would have seen the face of that man, and if the impression was +vivid enough to descend from mother to child it would have had the +church for a background, in place of the arch, with storm-lashed trees +beyond. This is reasonable only when we suppose it possible that brain +pictures can be transmitted. As a man I am convinced. As a scientist I +say that it is not proved."</p> + +<p>Edward, every nerve strained to its utmost tension, every faculty of +mind engaged, devoured this brief analysis and conclusion. But more +proof was given! Over his face swept a shadow.</p> + +<p>"Poor Gerald! Poor Gerald!" he muttered. But he became conscious +presently that the face of Virdow wore a concerned look; there was +something to come. He could not resist the temptation to clear up the +last vestige of doubt if doubt could remain.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he said, "what do you require to satisfy you that between the +two I am the son of Marion Evan?"</p> + +<p>"Two things," said Virdow, quickly. "First, proof that Rita was in no +way akin to the Evan family, for if she was in the remotest degree, the +similarity of profiles could be accounted for. Second, that your own and +the profile of Marion Evan were of the same angle. Satisfy me upon these +two points and you have nothing to fear." A feeling of weakness +overwhelmed Edward. The general had not seen in his face any likeness to +impress him. And yet, why his marked interest? The whole subject lay +open again.</p> + +<p>And Marion Evan! Where was he to obtain such proof?</p> + +<p>Virdow saw the struggle in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Leave nothing unturned," said Edward, "that one of us may live free of +doubt, and just now, God help me, it seems my duty to strive for him +first."</p> + +<p>"And these efforts—when—"</p> + +<p>"To-night! Let us descend."</p> + +<p>"We go first to the room of the nurse," said Virdow. "We shall begin +there."</p> + +<p>Edward led the way and with a lighted lamp they entered the room. The +search there was brief and uneventful. On the wall in a simple frame was +a portrait of John Morgan, drawn years before from memory by Gerald. It +was the face of the man known only to the two searchers as Abingdon, but +its presence there might be significant.</p> + +<p>Her furniture and possessions were simple. In her little box of trinkets +were found several envelopes addressed to her from Paris, one of them in +the handwriting of a man, the style of German. All were empty, the +letters having in all probability been destroyed. They, however, +constituted a clew, and Edward placed them in his pocket. In another +envelope was a child's golden curl, tied with a narrow black ribbon; and +there was a drawer full of broken toys. And that was all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE FACE THAT CAME IN DREAMS.</h3> + + +<p>Virdow was not a scientist in the strict sense of the term. He had been +a fairly good musician in youth and had advanced somewhat in art. He was +one of those modern scientists, who are not walled in by past +conclusions, but who, like Morse, leap forward from a vantage point and +build back to connect with old results. Early in life he had studied the +laws of vibration, until it seemed revealed to him that all forms, all +fancies, were born of it. Gradually as his beautiful demonstrations were +made and all art co-ordinated upon this law, he saw in dreams a +fulfillment of his hopes that in his age, in his life, might bloom the +fairest flower of science, a mind memory opened to mortal consciousness.</p> + +<p>Dreaming further along the lines of Wagner, it had come to him that the +key to this hidden, dumb and sleeping record of the mind was vibration; +that the strains of music which summon beautiful dreams to the minds of +men were magic wands lifting the vision of this past; not its immediate +past, but the past of ages; for in the brain of the subtle German was +firmly fixed the belief that the minds of men were in their last +analysis one and indivisible, and older than the molecules of physical +creation.</p> + +<p>He held triumphantly that "then shall you see clearly," was but one way +of saying "then shall you remember."</p> + +<p>To this man the mind picture which Gerald had drawn, the church, with +its tragic figures, came as a reward of generations of labor. He had +followed many a false trail and failed in hospital and asylum. In Gerald +he hoped for a sound, active brain, combined with the faculty of +expression in many languages and the finer power of art; an organism +sufficiently delicate to carry into that viewless vinculum between body +and soul, vibrations, rhymes and co-ordinations delicate enough to touch +a new consciousness and return its reply through organized form. He had +found these conditions perfect, and he felt that if failure was the +result, while still firmly fixed in his belief, never again would +opportunity of equal merit present itself. If in Gerald his theory +failed of demonstration, the mind's past would be, in his lifetime, +locked to his mortal consciousness. In brief he had formed the +conditions so long sought and upon these his life's hope was staked.</p> + +<p>Much of this he stated as they sat in the wing-room. Gerald lay upon the +divan when he began talking, lost in abstraction, but as the theory of +the German was gradually unfolded Edward saw him fix his bright eye upon +the speaker, saw him becoming restless and excited. When the explanation +ended he was walking the floor.</p> + +<p>"Experiments with frogs," he said, abruptly; "accidents to the human +brain and vivisection have proved the separateness of memory and +consciousness. But I shall do better; I shall give to the world a +complete picture descended from parent to child—an inherited brain +picture of which the mind is thoroughly conscious." His listeners waited +in breathless suspense; both knew to what he referred. "But," he added, +shaking his head, "that does not carry us out of the material world."</p> + +<p>His ready knowledge of this subject and its quick grasp of the +proposition astonished Virdow beyond expression.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said, simply.</p> + +<p>"When that fusion of mind and matter occurs," said Gerald, positively; +"when the consciousness is put in touch with the mind's unconscious +memory there will be no pictures seen, no records read; we shall simply +broaden out, comprehend, understand, grasp, know! That is all! It will +not come to the world, but to individuals, and, lastly, it has already +come! Every so called original thought that dawns upon a human, every +intuitive conception of the truth, marks the point where mind yielded +something of a memory to human consciousness."</p> + +<p>The professor moved uneasily in his seat; both he and Edward were +overwhelmed with the surprise of the demonstration that behind the sad +environment of this being dwelt a keen, logical mind. The speaker paused +and smiled; his attention was not upon his company.</p> + +<p>"So," he said, softly, "come the song into the mind of the poet, so the +harmonies to the singer and so the combination of colors to the artist; +so the rounded periods of oratory and so the conception that makes +invention possible. No facts appear, because facts are the results of +laws, the proofs of truths. The mind-memory carries none of these; it +carries laws and the truth which interprets it all; and when men can +hold their consciousness to the touch of mind without a falling apart, +they will stand upon the plane of their Creator, because they will then +be fully conscious of the eternal laws and in harmony with them."</p> + +<p>"And you," said Virdow, greatly affected, "have you ever felt the union +of consciousness and mind-memory?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied; "what I have said is the truth; for it came from an +inner consciousness without previous determination and intention. I am +right, and you know I am right!" Virdow shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I have hoped," he said, gently, "that in this mind-memory dwelt +pictures. We shall see, we shall see." Gerald turned away impatiently +and threw himself upon his couch. Presently in the silence which ensued +rose the solemn measure of Mendelssohn's heart-beat march from Edward's +violin. The strange, sad, depressing harmony filled the room; even +Virdow felt its wonderful power and sat mute and disturbed. Suddenly he +happened to gaze toward Gerald. He lay with ashen face and rigid eyes +fixed upon the ceiling, to all appearances a corpse. Virdow bounded +forward and snatched the bow from Edward's hand.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he cried; "for his sake stop, or you will kill him!"</p> + +<p>They dragged the inanimate form to the window and bathed the face. A low +moan escaped the young man, and then a gleam of intelligence came into +his eyes. He tried to speak, but without success; an expression of +surprise and distress came upon his face as he rose to his feet. For a +moment he stood gasping, but presently his breath came normally.</p> + +<p>"Temporary aphasia," he said, in a low tone. Going to the easel he drew +rapidly the picture of a woman kneeling above the prostrate form of +another, and stood contemplating it in silence. Edward and Virdow came +to his side, the latter pale with excitement. Gerald did not notice +them. Only the back of the kneeling woman was shown, but the face of the +other was distinct, calm and beautiful. It was the girl in the small +picture.</p> + +<p>"That face—that face," he whispered. "Alas! I see it only as my +ancestors saw it." He resumed his lounge dejectedly.</p> + +<p>"You have seen it before, then?" said Virdow, earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Before! In my dreams from childhood! It is a face associated with me +always. In the night, when the wind blows, I hear a voice calling +Gerald, and this vision comes. Shall I tell you a secret—" His voice +had become lower and now was inaudible. Placing his hand upon the white +wrist, Virdow said:</p> + +<p>"He sleeps; it is well. Come away, my young friend; I have learned much, +but the experience might have been dearly bought. Sometime I will +explain." Noiselessly they withdrew to Edward's room. Edward was +depressed.</p> + +<p>"You have gained, but not I," he said. "The back of the kneeling woman +was toward him."</p> + +<p>"Wait," said Virdow; "all things cannot be learned in a night. We do not +know who witnessed that scene."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE THREE PICTURES.</h3> + + +<p>Virdow had arisen and been to town when Edward made his appearance late +in the morning. After tossing on his pillow all night, at daylight he +had fallen into a long, dreamless sleep.</p> + +<p>Gerald was looking on, and the professor was arranging an experimental +apparatus of some kind. He had suspended a metal drum from the arch of +the glass-room by steel wires, and over the upper end of the drum had +drawn tightly a sheet of rubber obtained from a toy balloon +manufacturer. In the base of this drum he inserted a hollow stem of tin, +one end of which was flared like a trumpet. The whole machine when +completed presented the appearance of a gigantic pipe; the mouthpiece +enlarged. When Edward came in the German was spreading upon the rubber +surface of the drum an almost impalpable powder, taken from one of the +iron nodules which lay about on the surrounding hills and slightly +moistened.</p> + +<p>"I have been explaining to Gerald," said Virdow, cheerily, "some of my +bases for hopes that vibration is the medium through which to effect +that ether wherein floats what men call the mind, and am getting ready +to show the co-ordinations of force and increasing steadily and evenly. +Try what you Americans call 'A' in the middle register and remember that +you have before you a detective that will catch your slightest error." +He was closing doors and openings as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Edward obeyed. Placing his mouth near the trumpet opening he began. The +simple note, prolonged, rang out in the silent room, increasing in +strength to a certain point and ending abruptly. Then was seen a +marvelous thing; animated, the composition upon the disk rushed to the +exact center and then tremulously began to take definite shape. A little +medallion appeared, surrounded by minute dots, and from these little +tongues ran outward. The note died away, and only the breathing of the +eager watchers was heard. Before them in bas-relief was a red daisy, as +perfect, aye, more nearly perfect, than art could supply. Gerald after a +moment turned his head and seemed lost in thought.</p> + +<p>"From that we might infer," said Virdow, "that the daisy is the 'A' note +of the world; that of it is born all the daisy class of flowers, from +the sunflower down—all vibrations of a standard."</p> + +<p>Again and again the experiment was repeated, with the same result.</p> + +<p>"Now try 'C,'" said the German, and Edward obeyed. Again the mass rushed +together, but this time it spread into the form of a pansy. And then +with other notes came fern shapes, trees and figures that resembled the +scale armor of fish. And finally, from a softly sounded and prolonged +note, a perfect serpent in coils appeared, with every ring distinctly +marked. This form was varied by repetition to shells and cornucopias.</p> + +<p>So through the musical scale went the experiments, each yielding a new +and distinct form where the notes differed. Virdow enjoyed the wonder of +Edward and the calm concentration of Gerald. He continued:</p> + +<p>"Thus runs the scale in colors; each of the seven—red, orange, yellow, +green, blue, indigo and violet—is a note, and as there are notes in +music that harmonize, so in colors there are the same notes, the hues of +which blend harmoniously. What have they to do with the mind memory? +This: As a certain number of vibrations called to life in music the +shell, in light the color, and in music the note, so once found will +certain notes, or more likely their co-ordinations, awaken the memories +of the mind, since infallibly by vibrations were they first born.</p> + +<p>"This is the border land of speculation, you think, and you are partly +correct. What vibration could have fixed the form of the daisy and the +shape we have found in nature is uncertain, but remember that the earth +swings in a hollow drum of air as resonant and infinitely more sensitive +than rubber; and the brain—there is a philosophic necessity for the +shape of a man's head."</p> + +<p>"If," said Gerald, "you had said these vibrations awakened the memories +of the brain instead of the mind, I could have agreed with you. Yours +are on the order of the London experiments. I am familiar with them, but +only through reading." Again Virdow wondered, but he continued:</p> + +<p>"The powers of vibration are not understood—in fact, only dreamed of. +Only one man in the world, your Keely, has appreciated its +possibilities, and he is involved in the herculean effort to harness it +to modern machinery. It was vibration simply that affected Gerald so +deeply last night; a rhythm co-ordinating with his heart. I have seen +vast audiences—and you have, too, Edward—painfully depressed by that +dangerous experiment of Mendelssohn; for the heart, like a clock, will +seek to adjust itself to rhythms. Your tempo was less than seventy-two +to the minute; Gerald's delicate heart caught time and the brain lacked +blood. A quick march would have sent the blood faster and brought +exhilaration. Under the influence of march time men cheer and do deeds +of valor that they would not otherwise attempt, though the measure is +sounded only upon a drum; but when to this time is added a second, a +third and a fourth rhythm, and the harmonies of tone against tone, color +against color, in perfect co-ordination, they are no longer creatures of +reason, but heroes. The whole matter is subject to scientific +demonstration.</p> + +<p>"But back to this 'heart-beat march.' The whole nerve system of man +since the infancy of the race has been subject to the rhythm of the +heart, every atom of the human body is attuned to it; for while length +of life, breadth of shoulders, chest measure and stature have changed +since the days of Adam we have no evidence that the solemn measure of +the heart, sending its seventy-two waves against all the minute +divisions of the human machine, has ever varied in the normal man. +Lessen it, as on last night, and the result is distressing. And as you +increase it, or substitute for it vibrations more rapid against those +myriad nerves, you exhilarate or intoxicate.</p> + +<p>"But has any one ever sent the vibration into that 'viewless vinculum' +and awakened the hidden mind? As our young friend testifies, yes! There +have been times when these lower co-ordinations of song and melodies +have made by a momentary link mind and matter one, and of these times +are born the world's greatest treasures—jewels wrested from the hills +of eternity! What has been done by chance, science should do by rule."</p> + +<p>Gerald had listened, with an attention not hoped for, but the conclusion +was anticipated in his quick mind. Busy with his portfolio, he did not +attend, but upon the professor's conclusion he turned with a picture in +his hand. It was the drawing of the previous night.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"A mind picture, possibly," said Virdow.</p> + +<p>"You mean by that a picture never impressed upon the brain, but living +within the past experience of the mind?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"And I say it is simply a brain picture transmitted to me by heredity."</p> + +<p>"I deny nothing; all things are possible. But by whom? One of those +women?" Gerald started violently and looked suspiciously upon his +questioner. Virdow's face betrayed nothing.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said Gerald; "you have gaps in your theory, and this is +the gap in mine. Neither of these women could have seen this picture; +there must have been a third person." Virdow smiled and nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"And if there was a third person he is my missing witness. From him +comes your vision—a true mind picture."</p> + +<p>"And this?" Gerald drew from the folio a woman's face—the face that +Edward had shown, but idealized and etherealized. "From whom comes +this?" cried the young man with growing excitement. "For I swear to you +that I have never, except in dreams, beheld it, no tongue has described +it! It is mine by memory alone, not plucked from subtle ether by a +wandering mind, but from the walls of memory alone. Tell me." Virdow +shook his head; he was silent for fear of the excitement. Gerald came +and stood by him with the two pictures; his voice was strained and +impassioned, and his tones just audible:</p> + +<p>"The face in this and the sleeper's face in this are the same; if you +were on the stand to answer for a friend's life would you say of me, +this man descends from the kneeling woman?" Virdow looked upon him +unflinchingly.</p> + +<p>"I would answer, as by my belief in God's creation, that by this +testimony you descend from neither, for the brain that held those +pictures could belong to neither woman. One could not hold an +etherealized picture of her own face, nor one a true likeness of her own +back." Gerald replaced the sheets.</p> + +<p>"You have told me what I knew," he said; "and yet—from one of them I am +descended, and the pictures are true!" He took his hat and boat paddle +and left them abruptly. The portfolio stood open. Virdow went to close +it, but there was a third drawing dimly visible. Idly he drew it forth.</p> + +<p>It was the picture of a white seagull and above it was an arch; beyond +were the bending trees of the first picture. Both men studied it +curiously, but with varying emotions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>"HOME SWEET HOME."</h3> + + +<p>Edward approached the hall that afternoon with misgivings. A charge had +been brought against him, denied, and the denial defended with his life; +but the charge was not disproved. And in this was the defect of the +"code of honor." It died not because of its bloodiness but of +inadequacy. A correct aim could not be a satisfactory substitute for +good character nor good morals.</p> + +<p>Was it his duty to furnish proof to his title to the name of gentleman? +Or could he afford to look the world in the face with disdain and hold +himself above suspicion? The latter course was really his only choice. +He had no proofs.</p> + +<p>This would do for the world at large, but among intimates would it +suffice? He knew that nowhere in the world is the hearthstone more +sacred than in the south, and how long would his welcome last, even at +The Hall, with his past unexplained? He would see! The first hesitancy +of host or hostess, and he would be self-banished!</p> + +<p>There was really no reason why he should remain in America; agents could +transact what little business was his and look after Gerald's affairs. +Nothing had changed within him; he was the same Edward Morgan, with the +same capacities for enjoyment.</p> + +<p>But something had changed. He felt it with the mere thought of absence. +What was it? As in answer to his mental question, there came behind him +the quick breath of a horse and turning he beheld Mary. She smiled in +response to his bow. The next instant he had descended from his buggy +and was waiting.</p> + +<p>"May I ride with you?" Again the face of the girl lighted with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Of course. Get down, Jerry, and change places with Mr. Morgan." Jerry +made haste to obey. "Now, drop behind," she said to him, as Edward +seated himself by her side.</p> + +<p>"You see I have accepted your invitation," he began, "only I did not +come as soon as I wished to, or I would have answered your kind note at +once in person. All are well, I trust?" Her face clouded.</p> + +<p>"No. Mamma has become entirely blind—probably for all time. I have just +been to telegraph Dr. Campbell to come to us. We will know to-morrow." +He was greatly distressed.</p> + +<p>"My visit is inopportune—I will turn back. No, I was going from The +Hall to the general's; I can keep straight on."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you shall not, Mr. Morgan. Mamma is bearing up bravely, and you +can help so much to divert her mind if you tell her of your travels." He +assented readily. It was a novel sensation to find himself useful.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning," she continued, "perhaps I can find time to go to +the general's—if you really want to go—"</p> + +<p>"I do," he said. "My German friend, Virdow, has a theory he wishes to +demonstrate and has asked me to find the dominate tones in a waterfall; +I remembered the general's little cascade, and owing him a visit am +going to discharge both duties. What a grand old man the general is!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed, yes. You do not know him, Mr. Morgan. If you could have +seen how he entered into your quarrel—" she blushed and hesitated. "Oh, +what an outrage was that affair!"</p> + +<p>"It is past, Miss Montjoy; think no more upon it. It was I who cost your +father his seat in Congress. That is the lamentable feature."</p> + +<p>"That is nothing," said the young girl, "compared with the mortification +and peril forced upon you. But you had friends—more than you dreamed +of. The general says that the form of your note to Mr. Royson saved you +a grave complication."</p> + +<p>"You mean that I am indebted to Mr. Barksdale for that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I love Mr. Barksdale; he is so manly and noble." Edward smiled +upon her; he was not jealous of that kind of love.</p> + +<p>"He is certainly a fine character—the best product of the new south, I +take it. I have neglected to thank him for his good offices. I shall +call upon him when I return."</p> + +<p>"And," she said in a low tone, "of course you will assure the general of +your gratitude to-morrow. You owe him more than you suspect. I would not +have you fail there."</p> + +<p>"And why would you dislike to have me fail?" She blushed furiously when +she realized how she had become involved, but she met his questioning +gaze bravely.</p> + +<p>"You forget that I introduced you as my friend, and one does not like +for friends to show up in a bad light."</p> + +<p>He fell into moody silence, from which with difficulty only he could +bring himself to reply to questions as she led the way from personal +grounds. The Hall saved him from absolute disgrace.</p> + +<p>In the darkened sitting-room was Mrs. Montjoy when the girl and the +young man entered. She lifted her bandaged eyes to the door as she heard +their voices in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, here is Mr. Morgan," said Mary. The family had instinctively +agreed upon a cheerful tone; the great oculist was coming; it was but a +question of time when blessed sight would return again. The colonel +raised himself from the lounge where he had been dozing and came +forward. Edward could not detect in his grave courtesy the slightest +deviation of manner. He welcomed him smilingly and inquired of Gerald. +And then, continuing into the room, the young man took the soft hand of +the elder woman. She placed the other on his and said with that singular +disregard of words peculiar to the blind:</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you Mr. Morgan. We have been so distressed about you. +I spent a wretched day and night thinking of your worry and danger."</p> + +<p>"They are all over now, madam; but it is pleasant to know that my +friends were holding me up all the time. Naturally I was somewhat +lonesome," he said, forcing a smile, "until the general came to my +rescue." Then recollecting himself, he added: "But those hours were as +nothing to this, madam. You cannot understand how distressed I was to +learn, as I have just now, of your illness." She patted his hand +affectionately, after the manner of old ladies.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I can. Mary has told us of your offer to take us to Paris on +that account. I am sure sometimes that one's misfortunes fall heaviest +upon friends."</p> + +<p>"It is not too late," he said, earnestly. "If the colonel will keep +house and trust you with me, it is not too late. Really, I am almost +obliged to visit Paris soon, and if—" he turned to the colonel at a +loss for words. That gentleman had passed his hand over his forehead and +was looking away.</p> + +<p>"You are more than kind, my young friend," he said, sadly: "more than +kind. We will see Campbell. If it is necessary Mrs. Montjoy will go to +Paris."</p> + +<p>Mary had been a silent witness of the little scene. She turned away to +hide her emotion, fearful that her voice, if she spoke, would betray +her. The Duchess came in and climbed to grandma's lap and wound her arms +around the little woman. The colonel had resumed his seat when Mary +brought in from the hall the precious violin and laid it upon the piano, +waiting there until the conversation lagged.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, then, "Mr. Morgan has his violin; he was on his way +through here to the general's when I intercepted him. I know you can +rely upon him to play for us."</p> + +<p>"As much and as often as desired," said Edward heartily. "I have a +friend at home, an old professor with whom I studied in Germany, who is +engaged in some experiments with vibration, and he has assigned me +rather a novel task—that is, I am to go over to the general's and +determine the tone of a waterfall, for everything has its tone—your +window glass, your walking stick, even—and these will respond to the +vibrations which make that tone. Young memories are born of vibration, +and old airs bring back old thoughts." He arose and took the violin as +he talked.</p> + +<p>If the presence of the silent sufferer was not sufficient to touch his +heart, there were the brown, smiling eyes of the girl whose fingers met +his as he took the instrument. He played as never before. Something went +from him into the ripe, resonant instrument, something that even Virdow +could not have explained, and through the simple melodies he chose, +affected his hearers deeply. Was it the loneliness of the man speaking +to the loneliness of the silent woman, whose bandaged forehead rested +upon one blue-veined hand? Or was it a new spring opened up by the +breath, the floating hair, the smooth contour of cheeks, the melting +depths of brown eyes, the divine sympathy of the girl who played his +accompaniments?</p> + +<p>All the old music of the blind woman's girlhood had been carefully bound +and preserved, as should all old music be when it has become a part of +our lives; and as this man with his subtle power awoke upon that +marvelous instrument the older melodies he gave life to the dreams of +her girlish heart. Just so had she played them—if not so true, yet +feelingly. By her side had stood a gallant black-haired youth, looking +down into her face, reading more in her upturned eyes than her tongue +had ever uttered; eyes then liquid and dark with the light of love +beaming from their depths; alas, to beam now no more forever! Love must +find another speech. She reached out her hand and in eloquent silence it +was taken.</p> + +<p>Silence drew them all back to earth. But behind the players, an old +man's face was bent upon the smooth soft hand of the woman, and eyes +that must some day see for both of them, left their tender tribute.</p> + +<p>Edward Morgan linked himself to others in that hour with strands +stronger than steel. Even the little Duchess felt the charm and power of +that violin in the hands of the artist. Wondering, she came to him and +stretched up her little hands. He took her upon his knee then, and, +holding the instrument under her chin and her hands in his, awoke a +little lullaby that had impressed him. As he sang the words, the girl +smiled into the faces of the company.</p> + +<p>"Look, gamma," she said gleefully; "look!" And she, lifting her face, +said gently:</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear; gamma is looking." Mary's face was quickly averted; the +hands of the colonel tightened upon the hand he held.</p> + +<p>The Duchess had learned to sing "Rockaby Baby" and now she lifted her +thin, piping voice, the player readily following, and sang sweetly all +the verses she could remember. Mary took her in her arms when tired, and +Edward let the strains run on slower and softer. The eyes of the little +one drooped wearily, and then as the player, his gaze fixed upon the +little scene, drifted away into "Home, Sweet Home," they closed in +sleep. The blind woman still sat with her hand in her husband's, his +head bent forward until his forehead rested upon it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>THE RAINBOW IN THE MIST.</h3> + + +<p>Mary had lighted his room and handed him the lamp; "sweet sleep and +pleasant dreams," she had said, gravely bowing to him as she withdrew—a +family custom, as he had afterward learned. But the sleep was not sweet +nor the dreams pleasant. Excited and disturbed he dozed away the hours +and was glad when the plantation bell rang its early summons. He dressed +and made his way to the veranda, whence he wandered over the flower +garden, intercepting the colonel, who was about to take his morning look +about. Courteously leaving his horse at the gate that gentleman went on +foot with him. It was Edward's first experience on a plantation and he +viewed with lively interest the beginning of the day's labor. Cotton was +opening and numbers of negroes, old and young, were assembling with +baskets and sacks or moving out with a show of industry, for, as it was +explained to him, it is easy to get them early started in cotton-picking +time, as the work is done by the hundred pounds and the morning dew +counts for a great deal. "Many people deduct for that," said Montjoy, +"but I prefer not to. Lazy and trifling as he is, the negro is but +poorly paid."</p> + +<p>"But," said Edward, laughing, "you do not sell the dew, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No. Generally it evaporates, but if it does not the warehouse deducts +for it."</p> + +<p>"I noticed at one place on the way south that the people were using +wheel implements, do you not find them profitable?" The colonel pointed +to a shed under which were a number of cultivators, revolving plows, +mowing machines and a dirt turner. "I do not, the negro cannot keep +awake on the cultivator and the points get into the furrows and so throw +out the cotton and corn that they were supposed to cultivate. Somehow +they never could learn to use the levers at the right place, with the +revolving plow, and they wear its axle off. They did no better with the +mower; they seemed to have an idea that it would cut anything from +blades of grass up to a pine stump, and it wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"The disk harrow," he continued laughingly, "was broken in a curious +way. I sent a hand out to harrow in some peas. He rode along all right +to the field and then deliberately wedged the disks to keep them from +revolving, not understanding the principle. I sometimes think that they +are a little jealous of these machines and do not want them to work +well."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have a great many old negroes."</p> + +<p>"Too many; too many," he said, sadly; "but what can be done? These +people have been with me all my life and I can't turn them adrift in +their old age. And the men seem bent upon keeping married," he added, +good-naturedly. "When the old wives die they get new and young ones, and +then comes extravagant living again."</p> + +<p>"And you have them all to support?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. The men do a little chopping and cotton-picking, but not +enough to pay for the living of themselves and families. What is it, +Nancy?"</p> + +<p>"Pa says please send him some meal and meat. He ain't had er mouthful in +four days." The speaker was a little negro girl. "Go, see your young +mistress. That is a specimen," said the old gentleman, half-laughing, +half-frowning. "Four days! He would have been dead the second! Our +system does not suit the new order of things. It seems to me the main +trouble is in the currency. Our values have all been upset by +legislation. Silver ought never have been demonetized; it was fatal, +sir. And then the tariff."</p> + +<p>"Is not overproduction a factor, Colonel? I read that your last crops of +cotton were enormous."</p> + +<p>"Possibly so, but the world has to have cotton, and an organization +would make it buy at our own prices. There are enormous variations, of +course, we can't figure in advance, and whenever a low price rules, the +country is broke. The result is the loan associations and cotton factors +are about to own us."</p> + +<p>The two men returned to find Mary with the pigeons upon her shoulders +and a flock of poultry begging at her feet.</p> + +<p>"You are going with me to the general's," he said, pleadingly, as he +stood by her. She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I suppose not this time; mamma needs me." But at the breakfast table, +when he renewed the subject, that lady from her little side table said +promptly: "Yes." Mary needed the exercise and diversion, and then there +was a little mending to be done for the old general. He always saved it +for her. It was his whim.</p> + +<p>So they started in Edward's buggy, riding in silence until he said +abruptly:</p> + +<p>"I am persevering, Miss Montjoy, as you will some day find out, and I am +counting upon your help."</p> + +<p>"In what?" She was puzzled by his manner.</p> + +<p>"In getting Moreau in Paris to look into the little mamma's eyes." She +reflected a moment.</p> + +<p>"But Dr. Campbell is coming."</p> + +<p>"It is through him I going to accomplish my purpose; he must send her to +Paris."</p> + +<p>"But," she said, sadly, "we can't afford it. Norton could arrange it, +but papa would not be willing to incur such a debt for him."</p> + +<p>"His son—her son!" Edward showed his surprise very plainly.</p> + +<p>"You do not understand. Norton has a family; neither papa nor mamma +would borrow from him, although he would be glad to do anything in the +world he could. And there is Annie——" she stopped. Edward saw the +difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Would your father accept a loan from me?" She flushed painfully.</p> + +<p>"I think not, Mr. Morgan. He could hardly borrow money of his guest."</p> + +<p>"But I will not be his guest, and it will be a simple business +transaction. Will you help me?" She was silent.</p> + +<p>"It is very hard, very hard," she said, and tears stood in her eyes. +"Hard to have mamma's chances hang upon such a necessity."</p> + +<p>"Supposing I go to your father and say: 'This thing is necessary and +must be done. I have money to invest at 5 per cent. and am going to +Paris. If you will secure me with a mortgage upon this place for the +necessary amount I will pay all expenses and take charge of your wife +and daughter.' Would it offend him?"</p> + +<p>"He could not be offended by such generosity, but it would distress +him—the necessity."</p> + +<p>"That should not count in the matter," he said, gravely. "He is already +distressed. And what is all this to a woman's eyesight?"</p> + +<p>"How am I to help?" she asked after a while.</p> + +<p>"The objection will be chiefly upon your account, I am afraid," he said, +after reflection. "You will have to waive everything and second my +efforts. That will settle it." She did not promise, but seemed lost in +thought. When she spoke again it was upon other things.</p> + +<p>"Ah, truant!" cried the general, seeing her ascending the steps and +coming forward, "here you are at last. How are you, Morgan? Sit down, +both of you. Mary," he said, looking at her sternly, "if you neglect me +this way again I shall go off and marry a grass widow. Do you hear me, +miss? Look at this collar." He pointed dramatically to the offending +article; one of the Byronic affairs, to which the old south clings +affectionately, and which as affectionately clings to the garment it is +supposed to adorn, since it is a part of it. "I have buttoned that not +less than a dozen times to-day." She laughed and, going in, presently +returned with thread and needle and sitting upon his knee restored the +buttonhole to its proper size. Then she surveyed him a moment.</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you been over to see us?"</p> + +<p>"Because——"</p> + +<p>"You will have to give the grass widow a better excuse than that. 'Tis a +woman's answer. But here is Mr. Morgan, come to see if he can catch the +tune your waterfall plays—if you have no objection." Edward explained +the situation.</p> + +<p>"Go with him, Mary. I think the waterfall plays a better tune to a man +when there is a pretty girl around." She playfully stopped his mouth and +then darted into the house.</p> + +<p>"General," said Edward, earnestly, "I have not written to you. I +preferred to come in person to express anew my thanks and appreciation +of your kindness in my recent trial. The time may come—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my boy; we take these things for granted here in the south. +If you are indebted to anybody it is to the messenger who brought me the +news of your predicament, put me on horseback and sent me hurrying off +in the night to town for the first time in twenty years."</p> + +<p>"And who could have done that?" Edward asked, overwhelmed with emotion. +"From whom?"</p> + +<p>"From nobody. She summed up the situation, got behind the little mare +and came over here in the night. Morgan, that is the rarest girl in +Georgia. Take care, sir; take care, sir." He was getting himself +indignant over some contingency when the object of his eulogium +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Now, General, you are telling tales on me."</p> + +<p>"Am I? Ask Morgan. I'd swear on a stack of Bibles as high as yonder pine +I have not mentioned your name."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is a wonder. Come on, Mr. Morgan."</p> + +<p>The old man watched them as they picked their way through the hedge and +concluded his interrupted remark: "If you break that loyal heart—if you +bring a tear to those brown eyes, you will meet a different man from +Royson." But he drove the thought away while he looked affectionately +after the pair.</p> + +<p>Down came the little stream, with an emphasis and noise disproportioned +to its size, the cause being, as Edward guessed, the distance of the +fall and the fact that the rock on which it struck was not a solid +foundation, but rested above a cavity. Mary waited while he listened, +turning away to pluck a flower and to catch in the falling mist the +colors of the rainbow. But as Edward stood, over him came a flood of +thoughts; for the air was full of a weird melody, the overtone of one +great chord that thrilled him to the heart. As in a dream he saw her +standing there, the blue skies and towering trees above her, a bit of +light in a desert of solitude. Near, but separated from him by an +infinite gulf. "Forever! Forever!" all else was blotted out.</p> + +<p>She saw on his face the white desperation she had noticed once before.</p> + +<p>"You have found it," she said. "What is the tone?"</p> + +<p>"Despair," he answered, sadly. "It can mean nothing else."</p> + +<p>"And yet," she said, a new thought animating her mobile face, as she +pointed into the mist above, "over it hangs the rainbow."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>THE HAND OF SCIENCE.</h3> + + +<p>A feeling of apprehension and solemnity pervaded the hall when at last +the old family coach deposited its single occupant, Dr. Campbell, at the +gate. The colonel stood at the top of the steps to welcome him. Edward +and Mary were waiting in the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>The famous practitioner, a tall, shapely figure, entered, and as he +removed his glasses he brought sunshine into the room, with his cheery +voice and confident manner. To Mrs. Montjoy he said:</p> + +<p>"I came as soon as the telegram was received. Anxiety and loss of rest +in cases like yours are exceedingly undesirable. It is better to be +informed—even of the worst. Before we discuss this matter, come to the +window and let me examine the eye, please." He was assisting her as he +spoke. He carefully studied the condition of the now inflamed and +sightless organ, and then replaced the bandage.</p> + +<p>"It is glaucoma," he said, briefly. "You will remember that I feared it +when we fitted the glasses some years ago. The slowness of its advance +is due to the care you have taken. If you are willing I would prefer to +operate at once." All were waiting in painful silence. The brave woman +replied: "Whenever you are ready I am," and resumed her knitting. He had +been deliberate in every word and action, but the occasion was already +robbed of its terrors, so potent are confidence, decision and action. +Edward was introduced and would have taken his leave, but the oculist +detained him.</p> + +<p>"I shall probably need you," he said, "and will be obliged if you +remain. The operation is very simple."</p> + +<p>The room was soon prepared; a window was thrown open, a lounge drawn +under it and bandages prepared. Mary, pale with emotion, when the +slender form of her mother was stretched upon the lounge hurriedly +withdrew. The colonel seated himself and turned away his face. There was +no chloroform, no lecture. With the simplicity of of a child at play, +the great man went to work. Turning up the eyelid, he dropped upon the +cornea a little cocaine, and selecting a minute scalpel from his case, +with two swift, even motions cut downward from the center of the eye and +then from the same starting point at right angles. The incisions +extended no deeper than the transparent epidermis of the organ. +Skillfully turning up the angle of this, he exposed a thin, white +growth—a minute cloud it seemed to Edward.</p> + +<p>"Another drop of cocaine, please," the pleasant voice of the oculist +recalled him, and upon the exposed point he let fall from the dropper +the liquid. Lifting the little cloud with keen pinchers, the operator +removed it, restored the thin epidermis to its place, touched it again +with cocaine, and replaced the bandage. The strain of long hours was +ended; he had not been in the house thirty minutes.</p> + +<p>"I felt but the scratch of a needle," said the patient; "it is indeed +ended?"</p> + +<p>"All over," he said, cheerfully. He then wrote out a prescription and +directions for dressing, to be given to the family physician. Mary was +already by her mother's side, holding and patting her hand.</p> + +<p>The famous man was an old friend of the family, and now entered into a +cheerful discussion of former times and mutual acquaintances. The little +boy had entered, and somehow had got into his lap, where all children +usually got who came under his spell. While talking on other subjects he +turned down the little fellow's lids.</p> + +<p>"I see granulation here, colonel. Attend to it at once. I will leave a +prescription." And then with a few words of encouragement, he went off +to the porch to smoke.</p> + +<p>After dinner the conversation came back to the patient.</p> + +<p>"She will regain her vision this time," said Dr. Campbell, "but the +disease can only be arrested; it will return. The next time it will do +no good to operate. It is better to know these things and prepare for +them." The silence was broken by Edward.</p> + +<p>"Are you so sure of this, doctor, that you would advise against further +consultation? In Paris, for instance, is Moreau. In your opinion, is +there the slightest grounds for his disagreeing with you?"</p> + +<p>"In my opinion, no. But my opinion never extends to the point of +neglecting any means open to us. Were I afflicted with this disease I +would consult everybody within reach who had had experience." Edward +glanced in triumph at Mary. Dr. Campbell continued:</p> + +<p>"I would be very glad if it were possible for Mrs. Montjoy to see Moreau +about the left eye. You will remember that I expressed a doubt as to the +hopelessness of restoring that one when it was lost. It was not affected +with glaucoma; there is a bare possibility that something might be done +for it with success. If the disease returns upon the right eye, the +question of operating upon the other might then come up again." Edward +waited a moment and then continued his questions:</p> + +<p>"Do you not think a sea voyage would be beneficial, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly, if she is protected from the glare and dust while ashore. +We can only look to building up her general health now." Edward turned +away, with throbbing pulses.</p> + +<p>"But," continued the doctor, "of course nothing of this sort should be +attempted until the eye is perfectly well again; say in ten days or two +weeks." Mary sat with bowed head. She did not see why Dr. Campbell arose +presently and walked to where Edward was standing. She looked upon them +there. Edward was talking with eager face and the other studying him +through his glasses. But somehow she connected his parting words with +that short interview.</p> + +<p>"And about the sea voyage and Moreau, colonel; I do not know that I +ought to advise you, but I shall be glad if you find it convenient to +arrange that, and will look to you to have Moreau send me a written +report. Good-bye." But Edward stopped him.</p> + +<p>"I am going back directly, doctor, and can take you and the carriage +need not return again. I will keep you waiting a few moments only." He +drew Col. Montjoy aside and they walked to the rear veranda.</p> + +<p>"Colonel," he said, earnestly, "I want to make you an offer, and I do it +with hesitancy only because I am afraid you cannot understand me +thoroughly upon such short acquaintance. I believe firmly in this trip +and want you to let me help you bring it about. Without having +interested myself in your affairs, I am assured that you stand upon the +footing of the majority of southerners whose fortunes were staked upon +the Confederacy, and that just now it would inconvenience you greatly to +meet the expense of this experience. I want you to let me take the place +of John Morgan and do just as he would have done in this +situation—advance you the necessary money upon your own terms." As he +entered upon the subject the old gentleman looked away from him, and as +he proceeded Edward could see that he was deeply affected. He extended +his hand impulsively to the young man at last and shook it warmly. Tears +had gathered in his eyes. Edward continued:</p> + +<p>"I appreciate what you would say, Colonel; you think it too much for a +comparative stranger to offer, or for you to accept, but the matter is +not one of your choosing. The fortunes of war have brought about the +difficulty, and that is all. You have risked your all on that issue and +have lost. You cannot risk the welfare of your wife upon an issue of +pride. You must accept. Go to Gen. Evan, he will tell you so."</p> + +<p>"I cannot consider the offer, my young friend, in any other than a +business way. Your generosity has already put us under obligations we +can never pay and has only brought you mortification."</p> + +<p>"Not so," was the reply. "In your house I have known the first home +feeling I ever experienced. Colonel, don't oppose me in this. If you +wish to call it business, give it that term."</p> + +<p>"Yours will be the fourth mortgage on this place; I hesitate to offer +it. The hall is already pledged for $15,000."</p> + +<p>"It is amply sufficient."</p> + +<p>"I will consider the matter, Mr. Morgan," he said after a long silence. +"I will consider it and consult Evan. I do not see my way clear to +accept your offer, but whether or not, my young friend"—putting his arm +over the other's shoulder, his voice trembling—"whether I do or not you +have in making it done me an honor and a favor that I will remember for +life. It is worth something to meet a man now and then who is worthy to +have lived in nobler times. God bless you—and now you must excuse me." +He turned away abruptly. Thrilled by his tone and words, Edward went to +the front. As he shook hands with Mary he said:</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell yet. But he cannot refuse. There is no escape for him."</p> + +<p>At the depot in the city the doctor said: "Do not count too hopefully +upon Paris, my young friend. There is a chance, but in my opinion the +greatest good that can be achieved is for the patient to store in memory +scenes upon which in other days she may dwell with pleasure. Keep this +in mind and be governed accordingly." He climbed aboard the train and +waved adieu.</p> + +<p>Edward was leaving the depot when he overtook Barksdale. Putting his +buggy in the care of a boy, he walked on with the railroader at his +request to the club. Barksdale took him into a private room and over a +choice cigar Edward gave him all the particulars of the duel and then +expressed his grateful acknowledgments for the friendly services +rendered him.</p> + +<p>"I am assured by Gen. Evan," he said, "that had my demand been made in a +different form I might have been seriously embarrassed."</p> + +<p>"Royson depended upon the Montjoys to get him out of the affair; he had +no idea of fighting."</p> + +<p>"But how could the Montjoys have helped him?"</p> + +<p>"They could have appealed to him to withdraw the charges he had made, +and he would have done so because the information came really from a +member of the Montjoy family. I do not think you will need to ask her +name. I mention it to you because you should be informed." Edward +comprehended his meaning at once. Greatly agitated, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"But what object could she have had in putting out such slander? I do +not know her nor she me." Barksdale waved his hand deprecatingly:</p> + +<p>"You do not know much of women."</p> + +<p>"No. I have certainly not met this kind before."</p> + +<p>Barksdale reflected a few moments, and then said, slowly: "Slander is a +curious thing, Mr. Morgan. People who do not believe it will repeat it. +I think if I were you I would clear up all these matters by submitting +to an interview with a reporter. In that you can place your own and +family history before the public and end all talk." Edward was pale, but +this was the suggestion that he had considered more than once. He shook +his head quickly.</p> + +<p>"I disagree with you. I think it beneath the dignity of a gentleman to +answer slander by the publication of his family history. If the people +of this city require such statements from those who come among them, +then I shall sell out my interest here and go abroad, where I am known. +This I am, however, loath to do; I have a few warm friends here." +Barksdale extended his hand.</p> + +<p>"You will, I hope, count me among them. I spoke only from a desire to +see you fairly treated."</p> + +<p>"I have reason to number you among them. I am going to Paris shortly, I +think, with Mrs. Montjoy. Her eyesight is failing. I will be glad to see +you again before then."</p> + +<p>"With Mrs. Montjoy?" exclaimed Barksdale.</p> + +<p>"Yes; the matter is not entirely settled yet, but I do not doubt that +she will make the trip. Miss Montjoy will go with us."</p> + +<p>Barksdale did not lift his eyes, but was silent, his hand toying with +his glass.</p> + +<p>"I will probably call upon you before your departure," he said, as he +arose.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>THE FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH.</h3> + + +<p>Twilight was deepening over the hills and already the valleys were in +shadow when Edward reached Ilexhurst. He stood for a moment looking back +on the city and the hills beyond. He seemed to be laying aside a sweeter +life for something less fair, and the old weight descended upon him. +After all was it wise to go forth, when the return to the solitude of a +clouded life was inevitable? There was no escape from fate.</p> + +<p>In the east the hills were darkening, but memory flashed on him a +scene—a fair-faced girl, as he had seen her, as he would always see +her, floating upon an amethyst stream, smiling upon him, one hand +parting the waters and over them the wonders of a southern sunset.</p> + +<p>In the wing-room Virdow and Gerald were getting ready for an experiment +with flashlight photography. Refusing to be hurried in his scientific +investigations, Gerald had insisted that until it had been proven that a +living substance could hold a photographic imprint he should not advance +to the consideration of Virdow's theory. There must be brain pictures +before there could be mind pictures. At least, so he reasoned. None of +them knew exactly what his experiment was to be, except that he was +going to test the substance that envelopes the body of the bass, the +micopterus salmoides of southern waters. That sensitive plate, thinner +than art could make it, was not only spoiled by exposure to light, but +by light and air combined was absolutely destroyed. And the difficulty +of controlling the movements of this fish seemed absolutely insuperable. +They could only watch the experimenter.</p> + +<p>Into a thin glass jar Gerald poured a quantity of powder, which he had +carefully compounded during the day. Virdow saw in it the silvery +glimmer of magnesium. What the combined element was could not be +determined. This compound reached only a third of the distance up the +side of the glass. The jar was then stopped with cork pierced by a +copper wire that touched the powder, and hermetically sealed with wax. +With this under one arm, and a small galvanic battery under the other, +and restless with suppressed excitement, Gerald, pointing to a small +hooded lantern, whose powerful reflector was lighting one end of the +room, bade them follow him.</p> + +<p>Virdow and Edward obeyed. With a rapid stride Gerald set out across +fields, through strips of woodlands and down precipitous slopes until +they stood all breathless upon the shore of the little lake. There they +found the flat-bottom bateau, and although by this time both Edward and +Virdow had begun seriously to doubt the wisdom of blindly following such +a character, they resigned themselves to fate and entered.</p> + +<p>Gerald propelled the little craft carefully to a stump that stood up +distinct against the gloom under the searchlight in the bow, and +reaching it took out his pocket compass. Turning the boat's head +north-east, he followed the course about forty yards until at the left +the reflector showed him two stakes in line. Here he brought the little +craft to a standstill, and in silence, which he invoked by lifting his +hand warningly, turned the lantern downward over the stern of the boat, +and with a tube, whose lower end was stubbed with a bit of glass and +inserted in the water, examined the bottom of the lake twelve feet +below. Long and patient was the search, but at last the others saw him +lay aside his glass and let the boat drift a few moments. Then very +gently, only a ripple of the surface marking the action, he lowered the +weighted jar until the slackening wire indicated that it was upon the +bottom. He reached out his hand quickly and drew the battery to him, +firmly grasping the cross-handle lever. The next instant there was a +rumbling, roaring sound, accompanied by a fierce, white light, and the +end of the boat was in the air. In a brief moment Edward saw the slender +form of the enthusiast bathed in the flash, his face as white as chalk, +his eyes afire with excitement—the incarnation of insanity, it seemed +to him. Then there was a deluge of spray, a violent rocking of the boat +and the water in it went over their shoe-tops. Instantly all was inky +blackness, except where in the hands of the fearless man in the stern +the lantern, its slide changed, was now casting a stream of red light +upon the surface of the lake. Suddenly Gerald uttered a loud cry.</p> + +<p>"Look! Look! There he is!" And floating in that crimson path, with small +fishes rising around him, was the dead body of a gigantic bass. Lifting +him carefully by the gills, Gerald laid him in a box drawn from under +the rear seat.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" broke from Virdow. "We have risked our lives and ruined +our clothes—for what?"</p> + +<p>"For a photograph upon a living substance! On the side of this fish, +which was exposed to the flashlight, you will find the outlines of the +grasses in this lake, or the whole film destroyed. If the outlines are +there then there is no reason why the human brain, infinitely more +sensitive and forever excluded from light, cannot contain the pictures +of those twin cameras—the human eyes." He turned the boat shoreward and +seizing his box disappeared in the darkness, his enlarged pupils giving +him the visual powers of a night animal. Virdow and Edward, even aided +by the lantern, found their way back with difficulty.</p> + +<p>The two men entered the wing-room to find it vacant. Virdow, however, +pointed silently to the red light gleaming through the glass of the +little door to the cabinet. The sound of trickling water was heard.</p> + +<p>At that instant a smothered half-human cry came from within, and +trembling violently, Gerald staggered into the room. They took hold of +him, fearing he would fall. Straining their eyes, they both saw for an +instant only the half-developed outlines of a human profile extended +along the broad side of the fish. As they watched, the surface grew into +one tone and the carcass fell to the floor.</p> + +<p>Gazing into their faces as he struggled for freedom, Gerald cast off +their hands. The lithe, sinewy form seemed to be imbued at the moment +with the strength of a giant. Before they could speak he had seized the +lantern and was out into the night. Without a moment's hesitation, +Edward, bareheaded, plunged after him. Well trained to college athletics +though he was, yet unfamiliar with the grounds, it taxed his best +efforts to keep him in sight. He divined that the wild race would end at +the lake, and the thought that on a few seconds might hang the life of +that strange being was all that held him to the prolonged and dangerous +strain. He reached the shore just in time, by plunging waist deep into +the water, to throw himself into the boat. His own momentum thrust it +far out upon the surface. Gerald had entered.</p> + +<p>With unerring skill and incredible swiftness, the young man carried the +boat over its former course and turned the glare of the lamp downward. +Suddenly he uttered a loud cry, and, dropping the lantern in the boat, +stood up and leaped into the water. The light was now out and all was as +black as midnight.</p> + +<p>Edward slipped off his shoes, seized the paddle and waited for a sound +to guide him. It seemed as though nothing human could survive that +prolonged submergence; minutes appeared to pass; with a groan of despair +he gave up hope.</p> + +<p>But at that moment, with a gasp, the white face of Gerald burst from the +waters ten feet away, and the efforts he made showed that he was +swimming with difficulty. With one mighty stroke Edward sent the boat to +the swimmer and caught the floating hair. Then with great difficulty he +drew him over the side.</p> + +<p>"Home!" The word escaped from Gerald between his gasps, but when he +reached the shore, with a return of energy and a total disregard of his +companion, he plunged into the darkness toward the house, Edward this +time keeping him in view with less difficulty.</p> + +<p>They reached the door of the wing-room almost simultaneously and rushed +in side by side, Gerald dripping with water and exhausted. He leaned +heavily against the table. For the first time Edward was conscious that +he carried a burden in his arms. In breathless silence, he with Virdow +approached, and then upon the table Gerald placed an object and drew +shuddering back. It was a half life-size bust of darkened and discolored +marble, and for them, though trembling with excitement, it seemed to +have no especial significance until they were startled by a cry so loud, +so piercing, so heartrending, that they felt the flesh creep upon their +bones.</p> + +<p>Looking from the marble to the face of the young man they saw that the +whiteness of death was upon every feature. Following the direction of +his gaze, they beheld a silhouette upon the wall; the clear-cut profile +of a woman, cast by the carved face before them. To Edward it was an +outline vaguely familiar; to Virdow a revelation, for it was Edward's +own profile. Had the latter recognized it there would have been a +tragedy, for, without a word after that strange, sad, despairing cry, +Gerald wrenched a dagger from the decorated panel, and struck at his own +heart. It was Edward's quickness that saved him; the blade made but a +trifling flesh wound. Seizing him as he did from the rear he was enabled +to disturb his equilibrium in time.</p> + +<p>"Morphine," he said to Virdow. The latter hurried away to secure the +drug. He found with the pellets a little pocket case containing morphine +powders and a hypodermic injector. Without a struggle, Gerald lay +breathing heavily. In a few minutes the drug was administered, and then +came peace for the sufferer. Edward released his hold and looked about +him. Virdow had moved the bust and was seated lost in thought.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" he asked, approaching, awed and saddened by his +experience. Virdow held up the little bust.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever seen that face before?"</p> + +<p>"It is the face of the young woman in the picture!"</p> + +<p>"And now," said Virdow, again placing the marble so as to cast its +outlines upon the wall, "you do not recognize it, but the profile is +your own!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE TRADE WITH SLIPPERY DICK.</h3> + + +<p>Amos Royson, in the solitude of his room, had full time for reflection +upon the events of the week and upon his position. His face, always +sinister, had not improved under its contact with the heavy dueling +pistol driven so savagely against it. The front teeth would be replaced +and the defect concealed under the heavy mustache he wore, and the cut +and swollen lips were resuming their normal condition. The missing +finger, even, would inconvenience him only until he had trained the +middle one to discharge its duties—but the nose! He trembled with rage +when for the hundredth time he studied his face in the glass and +realized that the best skill of the surgeon had not been able to restore +its lines.</p> + +<p>But this was not the worst. He had carefully scanned the state press +during his seclusion and awoke from his personal estimate to find that +public opinion was overwhelmingly against him. He had slandered a man +for political purposes and forced a fight upon a stranger to whom, by +every right of hospitality, the city owed a welcome. The general public +could not understand why he had entered upon the duel if his charges +were true, and if not true why he had not had the manliness to withdraw +them.</p> + +<p>Moreover, he had incurred the deadly enmity of the people who had been +deceived in the lost county. One paper alluded to the unpleasant fact +that Edward Morgan was defending and aiding Mr. Royson's connections at +the time of the insult.</p> + +<p>He had heard no word from Swearingen, who evidently felt that the matter +was too hot at both ends for him to handle safely. That gentleman had, +on the contrary, in a brief card to one of the papers, disclaimed any +knowledge of the unfortunate letter and declined all responsibility for +it. This was sufficient, it would seem, to render almost any man +unhappy, but the climax was reached when he received a letter from +Annie, scoring him unmercifully for his clumsiness and informing him +that Edward Morgan, so far from being destroyed in a certain quarter, +was being received in the house as a friend to whom all were indebted, +and was petted and made much of.</p> + +<p>"So far as I can judge," she added, maliciously, "it seems settled that +Mary is to marry him. He is much with Col. Montjoy and is now upon a +confidential footing with everyone here. Practically he is already a +member of the family." It contained a request for him to inform her when +he would be in his office.</p> + +<p>He had not replied to this; he felt that the letter was aimed at his +peace of mind and the only satisfaction he could get out of this affair +was the recollection that he had informed her father-in-law of her +perfidy.</p> + +<p>"I would be glad to see the old gentleman's mind at work with Annie +purring around him," he said to himself, and the idea brought the first +smile his face had known for many a day. But a glimpse of that face in +the glass, with the smile upon it, startled him again.</p> + +<p>What next? Surrender? There was no surrender in the make-up of the man. +His legal success had hinged less upon ability than upon dogged +pertinacity. In this way he had saved the life of more than one criminal +and won a reputation that brought him practice. He had made a charge, +had been challenged and had fought. With almost any other man the issue +would have been at an end as honorably settled, but his habit of mind +was opposed to accepting anything as settled which was clearly +unsettled. The duel did not give Morgan the rights of a gentleman if the +main charge were true, and Royson had convinced himself that it was +true. He wrote to Annie, assured that her visit would develop his next +move.</p> + +<p>So it was that one morning Royson found himself face to face with his +cousin, in the office. There was no word of sympathy for him. He had not +expected one, but he was hardly prepared for the half-smile which came +over her face when he greeted her, and which, during their interview, +returned from time to time. This enraged him beyond endurance, and +nothing but the remembrance that she alone held the key to the situation +prevented his coming to an open breach with her. She saw and read his +struggle aright, and the display put her in the best of humor.</p> + +<p>"When shall we see you at The Hall again?" she asked, coolly.</p> + +<p>"Never," he said, passionately, "until this man Morgan is exposed and +driven out." She arched her brows.</p> + +<p>"Never, then, would have been sufficient."</p> + +<p>"Annie, this man must be exposed; you have the proofs—you have +information; give it to me." She shook her head, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I have changed my mind, Amos; I do not want to be on bad terms with my +brother-in-law of the future; the fact is, I am getting fond of him. He +is very kind to everybody. Mother is to go to Paris to have her eyes +attended to, and Mary is to accompany her. Mr. Morgan has been accepted +as their escort."</p> + +<p>The face of the man grew crimson with suppressed rage. By a supreme +effort he recovered and returned the blow.</p> + +<p>"What a pity, Annie, it could not have been you! Paris has been your +hobby for years. When Mary returns she can tell you how to dress in the +best form and correct your French." It was a successful counter. She was +afraid to trust herself to reply. Royson drew his chair nearer.</p> + +<p>"Annie," he said, "I would give ten years of life to establish the truth +of what you have told me. So far as Mary is concerned, we will leave +that out, but I am determined to crush this fellow Morgan at any cost. +Something tells me we have a common cause in this matter. Give me a +starting point—you owe me something. I could have involved you; I +fought it out alone." She reflected a moment.</p> + +<p>"I cannot help you now as much as you may think. I am convinced of what +I told you, but the direct proof is wanting. You can imagine how +difficult such proof is. The man is thirty years old, probably, and +witnesses of his mother's times are old or dead."</p> + +<p>"And what witnesses could there have been?"</p> + +<p>"Few. John Morgan is gone. The next witness would be Rita. Rita is the +woman who kept Morgan's house for the last thirty years. She owned a +little house in the neighborhood of The Hall and was until she went to +Morgan's a professional nurse. There may be old negroes who can give you +points."</p> + +<p>"And Rita—where is she?"</p> + +<p>"Dead!"</p> + +<p>A shade of disappointment swept over his face. He caught her eyes fixed +upon him with the most peculiar expression. "She is the witness on whom +I relied," she said, slowly. "She was, I believe, the only human being +in the world who could have furnished conclusive testimony as to the +origin of Edward Morgan. She died suddenly the day your letter was +published!" She did not look away as she concluded, "your letter was +published!" She did not look away as she paused, but continued with her +eyes fixed upon his; and gradually, as he watched her, the brows +contracted slightly and the lids tightened under them. A gleam of +intelligence passed to him. His face grew white and his hands closed +convulsively upon the arms of his chair.</p> + +<p>"But that would be beyond belief," he said, at last, in a whisper. "If +what you think is true, he was her son!" She raised her brow as she +replied:</p> + +<p>"There was no tie of association! With him everything was at stake. You +can probably understand that when a man is in love he will risk a great +deal."</p> + +<p>Royson arose and walked the room. No man knew better than he the worst +side of the human heart. There is nothing so true in the history of +crime as that reputation is held higher than conscience. And in this +case there was the terrible passion of love. He did not reply to her +insinuation.</p> + +<p>"You think, then," he said, stopping in front of the woman, "that, +reading my letter, he hurried home—and in this you are correct since I +saw him across the street reading the paper, and a few minutes later +throw himself into a hack and take that direction—that he rushed into +the presence of this woman, demanded the truth, and, receiving it, in a +fit of desperation, killed her!"</p> + +<p>"What I may think, Amos, is my right to keep to myself. The only witness +died that day! There was no inquest! You asked me for a starting point." +She drew her gloves a little tighter, shook out her parasol and rose. +"But I am giving you too much of my time. I have some commissions from +Mary, who is getting ready for Paris, and I must leave you."</p> + +<p>He neither heard her last remark nor saw her go. Standing in the middle +of the room, with his chin upon his chest, he was lost to all +consciousness of the moment. When he looked to the chair she had +occupied it was vacant. He passed his hand over his brow. The scene +seemed to have been in a dream.</p> + +<p>But Amos Royson knew it was real. He had asked for a starting point, and +the woman had given it.</p> + +<p>As he considered it, he unconsciously betrayed how closely akin he was +to the woman, for every fact that came to him was in that legal mind, +trained to building theories, adjusted in support of the hypothesis of +crime. He was again the prosecuting attorney. How natural at least was +such a crime, supposing Morgan capable of it.</p> + +<p>And no man knew his history!</p> + +<p>With one blow he had swept away the witness. That had done a thousand +times in the annals of crime. Poison, the ambush, the street encounter, +the midnight shot through the open window, the fusillade at the form +outlined in its own front door; the press had recorded it since the +beginning of newspapers. Morgan had added one more instance. And if he +had not, the suspicion, the investigation, the doubt would remain!</p> + +<p>At this point by a perfectly natural process the mind of the man reached +its conclusion. Why need there be any suspicion, any doubt? Why might +not an inquest develop evidences of a crime? This idea involved action +and decision upon his part, and some risk.</p> + +<p>At last he arose from the desk, where, with his head upon his hand, he +had studied so long, and prepared for action. At the lavatory he caught +sight of his own countenance in the glass. It told him that his mind was +made up. It was war to the knife, and that livid scar upon the pallor of +his face was but the record of the first failure. The next battle would +not be in the open, with the skies blue above him and no shelter at +hand. His victim would never see the knife descend, but it would descend +nevertheless, and this time there would be no trembling hand or failure +of nerve.</p> + +<p>From his office he went direct to the coroner's and examined the +records. The last inquest was of the day previous; the next in line more +than a month before. There was no woman's name upon the list. So far +Annie was right.</p> + +<p>Outside of cities in the south no burial permits are required. Who was +the undertaker? Inquiry would easily develop the fact, but this time he +himself was to remain in the dark. If this crime was fastened upon +Morgan, the motive would be self-evident and a reaction of public +opinion would re-establish Royson high in favor. His experience would +rank as martyrdom.</p> + +<p>But a new failure would destroy him forever, and there was not a great +deal left to destroy, he felt.</p> + +<p>In the community, somewhere, was a negro whose only title was "Slippery +Dick," won in many a hotly contested criminal trial. It had been said of +this man that the entire penal code was exhausted in efforts to convict +him, and always without success. He had been prosecuted for nearly every +offense proscribed by state laws. Royson's first experience with the man +was as prosecuting attorney. Afterward and within the preceding year he +had defended him in a trial for body-snatching and had secured a verdict +by getting upon the jury one man who was closely kin to the person who +purchased the awful merchandise. This negro, plausible and cunning, +hesitated at nothing short of open murder—or such was his reputation. +It was to find him that Royson went abroad. Nor was it long before he +succeeded.</p> + +<p>That night, in a lonely cabin on the outskirts of the city, a trade was +made. Ten dollars in hand was paid. If upon an inquest by the coroner it +was found that there was a small wound on the back of the head of the +woman and the skull fractured, Slippery Dick was to receive $100 more.</p> + +<p>This was the only risk Royson would permit himself to take, and there +were no witnesses to the trade. Dick's word was worth nothing. Discovery +could not affect the plot seriously, and Dick never confessed. The next +day he met Annie upon the road, having seen her in the city, and posted +himself to intercept her.</p> + +<p>"I have investigated the death of Rita," he said, "and am satisfied that +there are no grounds for suspecting murder. We shall wait!" The woman +looked him in the face.</p> + +<p>"Amos," she said, "if you were not my cousin, I would say that you are +an accomplished liar!" Before he replied there was heard the sound of a +horse's feet. Edward Morgan drove by, gravely lifting his hat.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE FACE OF THE BODY-SNATCHER.</h3> + + +<p>The methods of Royson's emissary were simple and direct. One day he +wandered in among the negroes at Ilexhurst in search of a lost hound +puppy, for Dick was a mighty hunter, especially of the midnight 'possum.</p> + +<p>No one had seen the puppy, but all were ready to talk, and the death of +Rita had been the latest sensation. From them he obtained every detail +from the time Edward had carried the body in his arms to the little +house, until it had been buried under the crooked cedar in the +plantation burying-ground.</p> + +<p>The body had been dressed by two of the women. There had been a little +blood on her head, from a small wound in the left temple, where she had +cut herself against the glass when she was "taken with a fit."</p> + +<p>The coffin was a heavy metal one and the top screwed on. That was all.</p> + +<p>When Royson received the report of the cut in the head and the blood, +his breath almost forsook him. Morgan might have been innocent, but what +a chain of circumstantial evidence! If Dick should return to tell him +some morning that the false wound he was to make was already on the spot +selected, he would not be surprised. So far he could show a motive for +the crime, and every circumstance necessary to convict his enemy with +it. All he needed was a cause of death.</p> + +<p>Dick's precautions in this venture were novel, from the Caucasian +standpoint. His superstition was the strongest feature of his depraved +mind. The negro has an instinctive dread of dead bodies, but a dead and +buried cadaver is to him a horror.</p> + +<p>In this instance, however, Dick's superstition made his sacrilege +possible; for while he believed firmly in the reappearance and power of +departed spirits, he believed equally in the powers of the voodoo to +control or baffle them. Before undertaking his commission, he went to +one of these voodoo "doctors," who had befriended him in more than one +peril, and by the gift of a fat 'possum secured a charm to protect him.</p> + +<p>The dark hour came, and at midnight to the little clump of trees came +also Slippery Dick. His first act was to bore a hole with an auger in +the cedar, insert the voodoo charm and plug the hole firmly. This +chained the spirit of the dead. Then with a spade and working rapidly, +he threw the mound aside and began to toss out the earth from above the +coffin. In half an hour his spade laid the wooden case bare. Some +difficulty was experienced in removing the screws, but down in that +cavity, the danger from using matches was reduced to a minimum, and by +the aid of these he soon loosened the lid and removed it. To lift this +out, and take off the metal top of the burial case, was the work of but +a few minutes longer, and the remains of poor Rita were exposed to view.</p> + +<p>In less than an hour after his arrival Slippery Dick had executed his +commission and was filling up the grave. With the utmost care he pressed +down the earth and drew up the loosened soil.</p> + +<p>There had been a bunch of faded flowers upon the mound; he restored +these and with a sigh of relief shouldered his spade and auger and took +his departure, glad to leave the grewsome spot.</p> + +<p>But a dramatic pantomime had been enacted near him which he never saw. +While he was engaged in marking the head of the lifeless body, the +slender form of a man appeared above him and shrank back in horror at +the discovery. This man turned and picked up the heavy spade and swung +it in air. If it had descended the negro would have been brained. But +thought is a monarch! Slowly the arm descended, the spade was laid upon +the ground, and the form a moment before animated with an overwhelming +passion stood silent and motionless behind the cedar.</p> + +<p>When the negro withdrew, this man followed, gliding from cover to cover, +or following boldly in the open, but at all times with a tread as soft +as a panther's. Down they went, the criminal and his shadow, down into +the suburbs, then into the streets and then into the heart of the city. +Near the office of Amos Royson the man in front uttered a peculiar +whistle and passed on. At the next corner under the electric lamp he +turned and found himself confronted by a slender man, whose face shone +white under the ghastly light of the lamp, whose hair hung upon his +shoulders, and whose eyes were distended with excitement. Uttering a cry +of fright, the negro sprang from the sidewalk into the gutter, but the +other passed on without turning except to cross the street, where in a +friendly shadow he stopped. And as he stood there the negro retraced his +steps and paused at the door of the lawyer's office. A dimly outlined +form was at the window above. They had no more than time to exchange a +word when the negro went on and the street was bare, except that a +square away a heavy-footed policeman was approaching.</p> + +<p>The man in the shadow leaned his head against a tree and thought. In his +brain, standing out as distinct as if cut from black marble, was the +face of the man he had followed.</p> + +<p>Gerald possessed the reasoning faculty to an eminent degree, but it had +been trained altogether upon abstract propositions. The small affairs of +life were strange and remote to him, and the passions that animate the +human breast were forces and agencies beyond his knowledge and +calculations.</p> + +<p>Annie Montjoy, with the facts in his possession, would have reached +instantly a correct conclusion as to their meaning. He could not handle +them. His mind was absolutely free of suspicion. He had wandered to the +little graveyard, as he had before when sleepless and harassed, and +discovered that some one was disfiguring the body of his lifelong +friend. To seize the spade and wreak vengeance upon the intruder was his +first impulse, but at the moment that it should have fallen he saw that +the head of the woman was being carefully replaced in position and the +clothing arranged. He paused in wonder. The habitual opium-eater +develops generally a cunning that is incomprehensible to the normal +mind, and curiosity now controlled Gerald. The moment for action had +passed. He withdrew behind the tree to witness the conclusion of the +drama.</p> + +<p>His following the retreating figure was but the continuance of his new +mood. He would see the affair out and behold the face of the man. +Succeeding in this he went home, revolving in mind the strange +experience he had gained.</p> + +<p>But the excitement would not pass away from him, and in the solitude of +his studio, with marvelous skill he drew in charcoal the scene as it +shone in memory—the man in the grave, the sad, dead face of the woman, +shrinking into dissolution, and then its every detail perfect, upon a +separate sheet the face of the man under the lamp. The memories no +longer haunted him. They were transferred to paper.</p> + +<p>Then Gerald underwent the common struggle of his existence; he lay down +and tossed upon his pillow; he arose and read and returned again. At +last came the surrender, opium and—oblivion.</p> + +<p>Standing by the easel next morning, Virdow said to Edward: "The brain +cannot survive this many years. When dreams of memories such as these, +vivid enough to be remembered and drawn, come upon it, when the waking +mind holds them vivid, it is in a critical condition." He looked sadly +upon the sleeper and felt the white wrist that overlay the counterpane. +The flesh was cold, the pulse slow and feeble. "Vitality small," he +said. "It will be sudden when it comes; sleep will simply extend into +eternity."</p> + +<p>Edward's mind reverted to the old general. What was his own duty? He +would decide. It might be that he would return no more, and if he did +not, and Gerald was left, he should have a protector.</p> + +<p>Virdow had been silent and thoughtful. Now he turned with sudden +decision.</p> + +<p>"My experiments will probably end with the next," he said. "The truth +is, I am so thoroughly convinced that the cultivation of this singular +power which Gerald possesses is destructive of the nervous system I +cannot go on with them. In some way the young man has wound himself +about me. I will care for him as I would a son. He is all gold." The old +man passed out abruptly, ashamed of the feeling which shook his voice.</p> + +<p>But Edward sat upon the bed and taking the white hand in his own, +smoothed it gently, and gave himself up to thought. What did it mean? +And how would it end? The sleeper stirred slightly. "Mother," he said, +and a childish smile dwelt for a moment upon his lips. Edward replaced +the hand upon the counterpane and withdrew.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE GRAVE IN THE PAST.</h3> + + +<p>When Col. Montjoy rode over to Gen. Evan's, a few mornings after the +operation upon his wife's eyes, it was with but ill-defined notions of +what he would say or what would be the result of the interview. +Circumstances had placed him in a strange and unpleasant position.</p> + +<p>Col. Montjoy felt that the Paris trip could not be well avoided. He +realized that the chances of accomplishing any real good for his wife +were very small, but Dr. Campbell had distinctly favored it, and the +hesitancy had evidently only been on account of the cost.</p> + +<p>But could he accept the generous offer made by Morgan? That was the +embarrassing question. He was not mentally blind; he felt assured that +the real question for him to decide then was what he should answer when +a demand for the hand of his daughter was made. For in accepting the +loan and escort of Edward Morgan, he accepted him. Could he do this?</p> + +<p>So far as the rumors about the young man were concerned, he never +entertained them seriously. He regarded them only as a desperate +political move, and so did the public generally. But a shadow ought not +to hang over the life of his daughter.</p> + +<p>The old general was at home and partially read his visitor's predicament +in his face as he approached the veranda.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Norton," he said without moving from his great rocker; "what +is troubling you?" And he laughed maliciously. "But by the way," he +added, "how is the madam to-day? Mary told me yesterday she was getting +along finely."</p> + +<p>"Well, we can't tell, Evan," said his visitor, drawing his chair next to +the rail; "we can't tell. In fact, nothing will be known until the +bandages are removed. I came off without my tobacco—" He was holding +his pipe. The general passed him his box.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, she will come through all right; Campbell is never mistaken."</p> + +<p>"That is true, and that is what troubles me. Campbell predicts a return +of the trouble and thinks in the near future her only chance for vision +will lie in the eye which has been blind for several years. He is +willing to admit that Moreau in Paris is better authority and would be +glad for Caroline to see him and have his opinion."</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed!" It was expressive. The colonel knew that Evan comprehended +the situation, if not the whole of it. If there had been any doubt, it +would have been dispelled by the next words:</p> + +<p>"A great expense, Norton, in these days, but it must be attended to." +Col. Montjoy ran his hand through his hair and passed it over his brow +nervously.</p> + +<p>"The trouble is, Evan, the matter has been attended to, and too easily. +Edward Morgan was present during the operation and has offered to lend +me all the money necessary for the trip with or without security and +with or without interest." The general shook with silent laughter and +succeeded in getting enough smoke down his throat to induce a disguising +cough.</p> + +<p>"That is a trouble, Norton, that hasn't afflicted us old fellows much of +late—extra ease in money matters. Edward is rich and will not be in any +way embarrassed by a matter like this. I think you will do well to make +it a business transaction and accept."</p> + +<p>"You do not understand. I have noticed marked attentions to Mary on the +part of the young man, and Mary," he said, sadly, "is, I am afraid, +interested in him."</p> + +<p>"That is different. Before you decide on accepting this offer, you feel +that you must decide on the young man himself, I see. What do you +think?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't been able to think intelligently, I am afraid, upon that +point. What do you think, Evan? Mary is about as much your property as +mine."</p> + +<p>"I think," said the general, throwing off his disguise, "that in Edward +Morgan she will get the only man I ever saw to whom I would be willing +to give her up. He is as straight and as brave as any man that ever +followed me into battle." Montjoy was silent awhile.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, presently, "I value your opinion more than any +man's and I do not wish to express or to intimate a doubt of Mr. Morgan, +who, I see, has impressed you. I believe the letter of Royson's was +infamous and untrue in every respect, but it has been published—and she +is my daughter. Why in the name of common sense hasn't he come to me and +given me something to go upon?"</p> + +<p>"It has occurred to me," said the general, dryly, "that he will do so +when he comes for Mary. In the meantime, a man isn't called upon to +travel with a family tree under his arm and show it to every one who +questions him. Morgan is a gentleman, <i>sans peur et sans reproche</i>. If +he is not, I do not know the breed.</p> + +<p>"So far as the charge of Royson is concerned," continued the general, +"let me calm your mind on that point. I have never entered upon this +matter with you because the mistakes of a man's kindred are things he +has no right to gossip about, even among friends. The woman, Rita +Morgan, has always been free; she was given her freedom in infancy by +John Morgan's father. Her mother's history is an unfortunate one. It is +enough to say that she was sent out from Virginia with John Morgan's +mother, who was, as you know, a blood relative of mine; and I know that +this woman was sent away with an object. She looked confoundedly like +some of the family. Well, John Morgan's father was wild; you can guess +the result.</p> + +<p>"Rita lived in her own house, and when her husband died John took her to +his home. He told me once in so many words that his father left +instructions outside his will to that effect, and that Rita's claims +upon the old man, as far as blood was concerned, were about the same as +his. You see from this that the Royson story is an absurdity. I knew it +when I went in and vouched for our young friend, and I would have proved +it to Thomas the night he called, but Rita dropped dead that day."</p> + +<p>Montjoy drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"You astonish me," he said, "and relieve me greatly. I had never heard +this. I did not really doubt, but you have cleared up all possibility of +error."</p> + +<p>"Nor has any other man heard the story. My conversation with John Morgan +grew out of his offer to buy of me Alec, a very handsome mulatto man I +owned, to whom Rita had taken a fancy. He wanted to buy him and free +him, but I had never bought or sold a slave, and could not bring myself +to accept money for Alec. I freed him myself. John was not willing for +her to marry a slave. They were married and he died in less than a year. +That is Rita's history. When Alec died Rita went to John Morgan and kept +house for him.</p> + +<p>"When it was that Gerald came in I do not know," pursued the general +musingly. "The boy was nearly grown before I heard of him. He and Edward +are children of distant relatives, I am told. John never saw the latter +at all, probably, but educated him and, finding Gerald incapacitated, +very wisely left his property to the other, with Gerald in his charge.</p> + +<p>"No, I have taken the greatest fancy to these two young fellows, +although I only have known one a few weeks and the other by sight and +reputation." He paused a moment, as though his careless tone had +desecrated a sacred scene; the face of the sleeper rose to his mind. +"But they are game and thoroughbreds. Accept the proposition and shut +your eyes to the future. It will all work out rightly." Montjoy shook +his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"I will accept it," he said, "but only because it means a chance for +Caroline which otherwise she would not have. Of course you know Mary is +going with her, and Morgan is to be their escort?"</p> + +<p>The general uttered a prolonged whistle and then laughed. "Well, +confound the little darling, to think she should come over here and tell +me all the arrangements and leave herself out; Montjoy, that is the only +one of your family born without grit; tell her so. She is afraid of one +old man's tongue."</p> + +<p>"Here she comes, with Morgan," said Montjoy, smiling. "Tell her +yourself."</p> + +<p>Edward's buggy was approaching rapidly and the flushed and happy face of +the girl could be seen within.</p> + +<p>"Plotting against me," she called out, as she descended, "and I dare you +to own it." The general said:</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I was about telling your father what a brave little +woman you are. Come in, Mr. Morgan," he added, seeing from her blushes +that she understood him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morgan was coming over to see the general," said Mary, "and I came +with him to ride back with papa." And, despite the protests of all the +others, he presently got Mary into the buggy and carried her off. "You +will stop, as you come by, Mr. Morgan," he called out. "I will be glad +to see you on a matter of business."</p> + +<p>The buggy was yet in sight when Edward turned to his old friend and +said:</p> + +<p>"Gen. Evan, I have come to make a statement to you, based upon long +reflection and a sense of justice. I am about to leave the state for +France, and may never return. There are matters connected with my family +which I feel you should know, and I prefer to speak rather than write +them." He paused to collect his thoughts, the general looking straight +ahead and recalling the conversation just had with Col. Montjoy. "If I +seem to trespass on forbidden grounds or stir unpleasant memories, I +trust you will hear me through before condemning me. Many years ago you +lost a daughter——"</p> + +<p>"Go on," said the general as Edward paused and looked doubtfully toward +him.</p> + +<p>"She was to have married my uncle, I am informed, but she did not. On +the contrary, she married a foreigner—her music teacher. Is this not +true?"</p> + +<p>"Go on."</p> + +<p>"She went abroad, but unknown to you she came back and her child was +born."</p> + +<p>"Ah." The sound that came from the old man's lips was almost a gasp. For +the first time since the recital was begun he turned his eyes upon his +companion.</p> + +<p>"At this birth, which took place probably at Ilexhurst, possibly in the +house of Rita Morgan, whose death you know of, occurred the birth of +Rita's child also. Your daughter disappeared. Rita was delirious, and +when she recovered could not be convinced that this child was not her +own; and she thought him her son until the day of her death."</p> + +<p>"Where is this child? Why was I not informed?" The old general's voice +was hoarse and his words scarcely audible. Edward, looking him full in +the face, replied:</p> + +<p>"At Ilexhurst! His name, as we know it, is Gerald Morgan."</p> + +<p>Evan, who had half arisen, sank back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"And this is your belief, Mr. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"That is the fact, as the weight of evidence declares. The woman in +health did not claim Gerald for her son. In the moment of her death she +cried out: 'They lied!' This is what you heard in the yard and I +repeated it at that time. I was, as you know, laboring under great +excitement. There is a picture of your daughter at Ilexhurst and the +resemblance it strong. You yourself were struck with the family +resemblance.</p> + +<p>"I felt it my duty to speak, even at the risk of appearing to trespass +upon your best feelings. You were my friend when I needed friends, and +had I concealed this I would have been ungrateful." Edward rose, but the +general, without looking up, laid his hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mr. Morgan. I thank you. You could not have done less. But +give me time to realize what this means. If you are correct, I have a +grandson at Ilexhurst"—Edward bowed slightly—"whom my daughter +abandoned to the care of a servant." Again Morgan bowed, but by the +faintest motion of his head.</p> + +<p>"I did not say abandoned," he corrected.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be true," said the old man; "it cannot be true. She was a +good girl and even infatuation would not have changed her character. She +would have come back to me."</p> + +<p>"If she could," said Edward. He told him the story of the unfinished +manuscript and the picture drawn by Gerald. He was determined to tell +him all, except as related to himself. That was his own and Virdow's +secret. "If that story is true, she may not have been able to get to +you; and then the war came on; you must know all before you can judge." +The old soldier was silent.</p> + +<p>He got up with apparent difficulty and said formally: "Mr. Morgan, I +will be glad to have you join me in a glass of wine. I am not as +vigorous as I may appear, and this is my time o' day. Come in." Edward +noticed that, as he followed, the general's form had lost something of +its martial air.</p> + +<p>No words were exchanged over the little southern ceremony. The general +merely lifted his glass slightly and bowed.</p> + +<p>The room was cool and dark. He motioned Edward to a rocker and sank into +his leather-covered easy-chair. There was a minute's silence broken by +the elder man.</p> + +<p>"What is your belief, Mr. Morgan, as to Gerald?"</p> + +<p>"The facts as stated are all——"</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, as man to man—your belief."</p> + +<p>"Then, in my opinion, the evidence points to Gerald as the child of this +woman Rita. I am sure also that it is his own belief. The only +disturbing evidence is the likeness, but Virdow says that the children +of servants very frequently bear likeness to a mistress. It is a +delicate question, but all of our ancestors were not immaculate. Is +there anything in the ancestry of Rita Morgan—is there any reason why +her child should bear a likeness to—to——"</p> + +<p>The general lifted his hand in warning. But he said: "What became of the +other child?" The question did not disturb or surprise the young man. He +expected that it would be asked. It was natural. Yet, prepared as he +was, his voice was unsteady when he replied:</p> + +<p>"That I do not know."</p> + +<p>"You do not know!" The general's tone of voice was peculiar. Did he +doubt?</p> + +<p>"I had two objects in view when I brought up this subject," said Edward, +when the silence grew embarrassing; "one was to acquaint you with the +possibilities out at Ilexhurst, and to ask your good offices for Gerald +in the event my absence is prolonged or any necessity for assistance +should arise. The other is to find the second child if it is living and +determine Gerald's status; and, with this as my main object, I venture +to ask you if, since her disappearance, you have ever heard of Marion +Evan?"</p> + +<p>"God help me," said Evan, brokenly; "yes. But it was too soon; too soon; +I could not forgive her."</p> + +<p>"And since then?" The old man moved his hand slowly and let it fall.</p> + +<p>"Silence—oblivion."</p> + +<p>"Can you give me the name of her husband?" Without reply the veteran +went to the secretary and took from a pigeonhole a well-worn letter.</p> + +<p>"No eye but mine has ever read these lines," he said, simply. "I do not +fear to trust them to you! Read! I cannot now!"</p> + +<p>Edward's hand trembled as he received the papers. If Rita Morgan spoke +the truth he was about to look upon lines traced by his mother's hand. +It was like a message from the dead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE PLEDGE THAT WAS GIVEN.</h3> + + +<p>Edward opened the letter with deep emotion. The handwriting was small +and unformed, the writing of schoolgirl. It read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Jan. 3, 18—. My Darling Papa: When you read this I will be +far away upon the ocean and separated from you by circumstances +compared with which leagues are but trifles. You probably know +them by telegram before now, but I cannot leave you and my +native land without a farewell. Papa, I am now the wife of an +honorable, loving man, and happy as I could be while +remembering you and your loneliness. Why I have done this, why +I have taken this step without coming to you first and letting +you decide, I cannot tell, nor do I know. I only know that I +love my husband as I have never loved before; that I have his +whole affection; that he wanted me to go with him blindly, and +that I have obeyed. That is all. There is no ingratitude in my +heart, no lessening of affection for you; you still are to me +the one man in my old world; but my husband had come in and +made a new world of it all, and I am his. You will blame me, I +am afraid, and perhaps disown me. If so, God is merciful to +women who suffer for those they love. I would lay down my life +for Gaspard; I have laid down everything dear to life. We go to +his childhood's home in Silesia, where with the money he has +saved and with his divine art, we hope to be happy and face the +world without fear. Oh, papa, if you could only forgive me; if +you could remember your own love for that beautiful mamma of +whom you never tired telling, and who, I am sure, is near me +now; if you could remember and forgive me, the world would hold +nothing that I would exchange a thought for. Gaspard is noble +and manly. You would admire him and he would adore you, as do +I, your only child. Papa, you will write to me; a father can +never forsake his child. If I am wrong, you cannot forsake me; +if I am right, you cannot. There is no arrangement in all God's +providence for such a contingency, and Christ did not turn even +from the woman whom others would stone. Can you turn from me, +when if I have erred it is through the divine instinct that God +has given me? No! You cannot, you will not! If you could, you +would not have been the noble patient, brave man whom all men +love. Write at once and forgive and bless your child.</p> + +<p>"Marion."</p></blockquote> + +<p>On a separate slip, pinned to the letter, was:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"My address will be Mrs. Gaspard Levigne, Breslau, Silesia. If +we change soon, I will write to you. God bless and care for +you.</p> + +<p>"M."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Edward gently replaced the faded letter upon the table; his eyes were +wet and his voice changed and unnatural.</p> + +<p>"You did not write?"</p> + +<p>The general shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You did not write?" Edward repeated the question; this time his voice +almost agonized in the weight of emotion. Again the general shook his +head, fearing to trust his voice. The young man gazed upon him long and +curiously and was silent.</p> + +<p>"I wrote five years later," said Evan, presently. "It was the best I +could do. You cannot judge the ante-bellum southern planter by him +to-day. I was a king in those times! I had ambition. I looked to the +future of my child and my family! All was lost; all perished in the act +of a foolish girl, infatuated with a music master. I can forgive now, +but over me have rolled waves enough in thirty years to wear away stone. +The war came on; I carried that letter from Manassas to Appomattox and +then I wrote. I set inquiries afoot through consuls abroad. No voice has +ever raised from the silence. My child is dead."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," said Edward, gently; "perhaps not. If there is any genius +in European detective bureaus that money can command, we shall know—we +shall know."</p> + +<p>"If she lived she would have written. I cannot get around that. I know +my child. She could not remain silent nearly thirty years."</p> + +<p>"Unless silenced by circumstances over which she had no control," +continued Edward, "and every side of this matter has presented itself to +me. Your daughter had one firm, unchanging friend—my uncle, John +Morgan. He has kept her secret—perhaps her child. Is it not possible +that he has known of her existence somewhere; that she has been all +along informed of the condition and welfare of the child—and of you?" +Evan did not reply; he was intently studying the young man.</p> + +<p>"John offered to find her a year after she was gone. He came and pleaded +for her, but I gave him conditions and he came no more."</p> + +<p>"It is not only possible that she lives," said Edward, "but probable. +And it is certain that if John Morgan knew of her existence and then +that she had passed away, that all pledges would have been suspended in +the presence of a father's right to know that his child was dead. I go +to unravel the mystery. I begin to feel that I will succeed, for now, +for the first time I have a starting point. I have name and address." He +took down the information in his memorandum book.</p> + +<p>Edward prepared to take his departure, when Evan, throwing off his mood, +stood before him thoughtful and distressed.</p> + +<p>"Say it," said Edward, bravely, reading a change in the frank face.</p> + +<p>"One moment, and I shall bid you farewell and godspeed." He laid his +hand upon Edward's shoulder and fixed a penetrating gaze upon him. +"Young man, my affairs can wait, but yours cannot. I have no questions +to ask of yourself; you came among us and earned our gratitude. In time +of trouble I stood by you. It was upon my vouching personally for your +gentility that your challenge was accepted. We went upon the field +together; your cause became mine. Now this; I have yet a daughter, the +young woman whom you love—not a word now—she is the pride and idol of +two old men. She is well disposed toward you, and you are on the point +of going upon a journey in her company under circumstances that place +her somewhat at a disadvantage. I charge you that it is not honorable to +take advantage of this to win from her a declaration or a promise of any +kind. Man to man, is it not true?"</p> + +<p>"It is true," said Edward, turning pale, but meeting his gaze +fearlessly. "It is so true that I may tell you now that from my lips no +word of love has ever passed to her; that if I do speak to her upon that +subject it will be while she is here among her own people and free from +influences that would bias her decision unfairly." The hands of the two +men met impulsively. A new light shone in the face of the soldier.</p> + +<p>"I vouched for you, and if I erred then there is no more faith to be put +in manhood, for if you be not a true man I never have seen one. Go and +do your best for Gerald—and for me. I must reflect upon these +matters—I must reflect! As yet their full import has failed me. You +must send me that manuscript."</p> + +<p>Deeply impressed and touched, Edward withdrew. The task was finished. It +had been a delicate and trying one for him.</p> + +<p>At The Hall Edward went with Mary into the darkened room and took the +little mother's hand in his and sat beside her to tell of the proposed +journey. He pictured vividly the scenes to be enjoyed and life in the +gay capital, and all as a certainty for her. She did not doubt; Dr. +Campbell had promised sight; it would return. But this journey, the +expense, they could not afford it.</p> + +<p>But Mary came to the rescue there; her father had told her he was +entirely able to bear the expense, and she was satisfied. This, however, +did not deceive the mother, who was perfectly familiar with the family +finances. She knitted away in discreet silence, biding her time.</p> + +<p>The business to which Col. Montjoy had referred was soon finished. He +formally accepted the very opportune offer and wished to know when they +should meet in the city to arrange papers. To this Edward objected, +suggesting that he would keep an accurate account of expenses incurred +and arrange papers upon his return; and to this, the only reasonable +arrangement possible, Col. Montjoy acceded.</p> + +<p>One more incident closed the day. Edward had nearly reached the city, +when he came upon a buggy by the roadside, drawn up in the shade of a +tree. His own animal, somewhat jaded, was leisurely walking. Their +approach was practically noiseless, and he was alongside the vehicle +before either of the two occupants looked up. He saw them both start +violently and the face of the man flush quickly, a scar upon the nose +becoming at once crimson. They were Royson and his cousin.</p> + +<p>Greatly pained and embarrassed, Edward was at a loss how to act, but +unconsciously he lifted his hat, with ceremonious politeness. Royson did +not respond, but Annie, with more presence of mind, smiled sweetly and +bowed. This surprised him. She had studiously avoided meeting him at The +Hall.</p> + +<p>The message of Mary, "Royson is your enemy," flashed upon him. He had +felt intuitively the enmity of the woman. Why this clandestine interview +and to what did it tend? He knew in after days.</p> + +<p>Arriving at home he found Virdow writing in the library and forbore to +disturb him. Gerald was slumbering in the glass-room, his deep breathing +betraying the cause. Edward went to the little room upstairs to secure +the manuscript and prepare it for sending to Gen. Evan. Opening the desk +he was surprised to see that the document was not where he placed it. A +search developed it under all the fragmentary manuscript, and he was +about to inclose it in an envelope when he noticed that the pages were +reversed. The last reader had not slipped the pages one under another, +but had placed them one on another, probably upon the desk, thus +bringing the last page on top.</p> + +<p>Edward remembered at that moment that in reading the manuscript he had +carefully replaced each page in its proper position and had left the +package on top of all others. Who could have disturbed them? Not Virdow, +and there was none else but Gerald!</p> + +<p>He laid aside the package and reflected. Of what use could this +unexplained manuscript be to Gerald? None that he could imagine; and yet +only Gerald could have moved it. Greatly annoyed, he restored the leaves +and placed them in an envelope.</p> + +<p>He was still thinking of the singular discovery he had made, and idly +glancing over the other fragments, when from one of them fell a +newspaper clipping. He would not in all probability have read it +through, but the name "Gaspard," so recently impressed upon his mind, +caught his eye. The clipping was printed in French and was headed "From +our Vienna correspondent." Translated, it read as follows:</p> + +<p>"To-day began the trial of Leon Gaspard for the murder of Otto Schwartz +in this city on the 18th ult. The case attracts considerable attention, +because of the fact that Gaspard has been for a week playing first +violin in the orchestra of the Imperial Theater, where he has won many +admirers and because of the peculiar circumstances of the case. Schwartz +was a stranger and came to this city only upon the day of his death. It +seems that Gaspard, so it is charged, some years previously had deserted +a sister of Schwartz after a mock marriage, but this he denies. The men +met in a cafe and a scuffle ensued, during which Schwartz was stabbed to +the heart and instantly killed. Gaspard claims that he had been +repeatedly threatened by letter, and that Schwartz came to Vienna to +kill him, and that he (Schwartz) struck the first blow. He had upon his +face a slight cut, inflicted, he claims, by a seal ring worn by +Schwartz. Bystanders did not see the blow, and Schwartz had no weapons +upon his body. Gaspard declares that he saw a knife in the dead man's +hand and that it was picked up and concealed by a stranger who +accompanied him into the cafe. Unless he can produce the threatening +letters, and find witnesses to prove the knife incident, the trial will +go hard with him."</p> + +<p>Another clew! And the husband of Marion Evan was a murderer! Who sent +that clipping to John Morgan? Probably a detective bureau. Edward folded +it sadly, and gave it place by the memoranda he had written in his +notebook.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>"WHICH OF THE TWO WAS MY MOTHER?"</h3> + + +<p>The sleeper lay tranquilly forgetful of the morning hours redolent of +perfumes and vocal with the songs of birds. The sunlight was gone, a +deep-gray cloud having crept up to shadow the scene. All was still in +the glass-room. Virdow shook his head.</p> + +<p>"This," he said, "strange, as it may seem, is his real life. Waking +brings the dreams. We will not disturb him."</p> + +<p>Edward would have returned his violin to its case, but as he sat looking +upon the face of the sleeper and revolving in mind the complications +which had enslaved him, there came upon the roof of glass the unheralded +fall of rain. As it rose and fell in fine cadences under the fitful +discharge of moisture from the uneven cloud drifting past, a note wild +but familiar caught his ear; it was the note of the waterfall. +Unconsciously he lifted his bow, and blending with that strange minor +chord, he filled the room with low, sweet melody.</p> + +<p>And there as the song grew into rapture from its sadness under the spell +of a new-found hope, under the memory of that last scene, when the +rainbow overhung the waters and the face of the girl had become radiant +with the thought she expressed, Gerald arose from his couch and stood +before the easel. All the care lines were gone from his face. For the +first time in the knowledge of the two men he stood a cool, rational +being. The strains ran on. The artist drew, lingering over a touch of +beauty, a shade of expression, a wave of fine hair upon the brow. Then +he stood silent and gazed upon his work. It was finished. The song of +the violin trembled—died away.</p> + +<p>He did not for the moment note his companions; he was looking upward +thoughtfully. The sun had burst open the clouds and was filling the +outer world with yellow light, through the water-seeped air. Far away, +arching the mellow depths of a cloud abyss, its colors repeated upon the +wet grass around him, was a rainbow. Then he saw that Virdow and Edward +were watching him. The spell was broken. He smiled a little and beckoned +to Edward.</p> + +<p>"Here is a new face," he said. "It is the first time it has come to me. +It is a face that rests me." Edward approached and gazed upon the face +of Mary! Speechless with the rush of feeling that came over him, he +turned and left the room.</p> + +<p>To Virdow it meant nothing except a fine ideal, but, impressed with the +manner of the musician, he followed to the great hall. The girl of the +picture stood in the doorway. Before he had time to speak, he saw the +martial figure of Evan overshadow hers and heard the strong, manly voice +asking for Edward.</p> + +<p>Edward came forward. Confused by his recent experience, and the sudden +appearance of the original of the picture, he with difficulty managed to +welcome his guest and introduce his friend.</p> + +<p>"I thought best to come," said Evan when Virdow, with easy courtesy, was +engaging the attention of the lady. "I have passed a sleepless night. +Where can we speak privately?" Edward motioned to the stairway, but +hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Never mind Mary," said the general, divining his embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"I took her away from the colonel on the road; she and the professor +will take care of themselves." She heard the remark and smiled, replying +gayly:</p> + +<p>"But don't stay too long. I am afraid I shall weary your friend."</p> + +<p>Virdow made his courtliest bow.</p> + +<p>"Impossible," he said. "I have been an untiring admirer of the beautiful +since childhood."</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" cried Evan. "You will do!" Virdow bowed again.</p> + +<p>"I would be glad to have you answer a question," he said, rather +abruptly, gazing earnestly into her eyes. She was astonished, but +managed to reply assuringly. "It is this: Have you ever met Gerald +Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Never. I have heard so much of him lately, I should be glad to see +him."</p> + +<p>"Has he ever seen you?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I am aware of——"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not face to face—long enough for him to remember your every +feature—your expression?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no." The old man looked troubled and began to walk up and down the +hall, his head bent forward. The girl watched him nonplussed and with a +little uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me—pardon me," he said, finally, recalling the situation. "But +it is strange, strange!"</p> + +<p>"May I inquire what troubles you, sir?" she asked, timidly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly, yes." He started, with sudden resolution, and +disappeared for a few moments. When he returned, he was holding a large +sheet of cardboard. "It is this," he said. "How could a man who has +never seen you face to face have drawn this likeness?" He held Gerald's +picture before her. She uttered an exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p>"And did he draw it—did Mr. Gerald——"</p> + +<p>"In my presence."</p> + +<p>"He has never seen me."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said a musical voice; "as you were then, I have seen you." She +started with fright. Gerald, with pallid face and hair upon his +shoulders, stood before her. "So shall I see you forever." She drew +nearer to Virdow.</p> + +<p>"This, my young friend, is Mary." It was all he could remember. And then +to her: "This is Gerald."</p> + +<p>"Mary," he said, musingly, "Mary? What a pretty name! It suits you. None +other would." She had extended her hand shyly. He took it and lifted it +to his lips. It was the first time a girl's hand had rested in his. He +did not release it; she drew away at last. Something in his voice had +touched her; it was the note of suffering, of unrest, which a woman +feels first. She knew something of his history. He had been Edward's +friend. Her father had pictured the scene wherein he had cornered and +defied Royson.</p> + +<p>"I am sure we shall be friends, Mr. Gerald. Mr. Morgan is so fond of +you."</p> + +<p>"We shall be more than friends," he said, gently; "more than friends." +She misunderstood him. Had he divined her secret and did Edward promise +him that?</p> + +<p>"Never less," she said. He had not removed his eyes from her, and now as +she turned to speak to Virdow, he came and stood by her side, and +lifting gently one of her brown curls gazed wonderingly upon it. She was +embarrassed, but her good sense came to the rescue.</p> + +<p>"See the light upon it come and go," he said. "We call it the reflected +light; but it is life itself glimmering there. The eye holds the same +ray."</p> + +<p>"You have imagination," she said, smiling, "and it is fortunate. Here +you must be lonely." He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Imagination is often a curse. The world generally is happy, I think, +and the happiest are those who touch life through the senses alone and +who do not dream. I am never alone! Would to God sometimes I were." A +look of anguish convulsed his face. She laid her hand upon his wrist as +he stood silently struggling for self-possession.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," she said, softly; "I have pained you." The look, the +touch, the tender voice—which was it? He shuddered and gazed upon the +little hand and then into her eyes. Mary drew back, wondering; she read +him aright. Love in such natures is not a growth. It is born as a flash +of light. Yet she did not realize the full significance of the +discovery. Then, oh, wonderful power of nature, she turned upon him her +large, melting eyes and gave him one swift message of deepest sympathy. +Again he shuddered and the faintest crimson flushed his cheeks.</p> + +<p>They went with Virdow to see the wing-room, of which she had heard so +much, to look into the little cabinets, where he made his photographs, +to handle his weapons, view his favorite books and all the curious +little surroundings of his daily life; she went with an old man and a +child. Her girlish interest was infectious; Virdow threw off his +speculations and let himself drift with the new day, and Gerald was as a +smiling boy.</p> + +<p>They even ventured with unconventional daring to peep into the +glass-room. Standing on the threshold, the girl gazed in with surprise +and delight.</p> + +<p>"How novel and how simple!" she exclaimed; "and to think of having the +stars for friends all night!" He laughed silently and nodded his head; +here was one who understood.</p> + +<p>And then her eyes caught a glimpse of the marble bust, which Gerald had +polished and cleared of its discolorations. She made them bring it and +place it before her. A puzzled look overspread her face as she glanced +from Gerald to the marble and back again.</p> + +<p>"Strange, strange," she said; "sit here, Mr. Gerald, sit here, with your +head by this one, and let me see." White now as the marble itself, but +controlled by the new power that had enthralled, he obeyed; the two +faces looked forward upon the girl, feature for feature. Even the pose +was the same.</p> + +<p>"It was well done," she said. "I never saw a more perfect resemblance, +and yet"—going to one side—"the profile is that of Mr. Edward!" The +young man uttered no sound; he was, in the swift passing of the one +bright hour of his life, as the marble itself. But as he remained a +moment under the spell of despair that overran him, Gen. Evan stood in +the door. Only Mary caught the words in his sharp, half-smothered +exclamation as he started back. They were: "It is true!" He came forward +and, taking up the marble, looked long and tenderly into the face, and +bowing his head gave way to his tears.</p> + +<p>One by one they withdrew—Virdow, Mary, Edward. Only Gerald remained, +gazing curiously into the general's face and thinking. Then tenderly the +old man replaced the bust upon the table, and, standing above his head, +and said with infinite tenderness:</p> + +<p>"Gerald, you do not know me; if God wills it you will know me some day! +That marble upon the table is the carved face of my daughter—Marion +Evan."</p> + +<p>"Then you are Gen. Evan." The young man spoke the words coolly and +without emotion.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Nearly thirty years ago she left me—without a farewell until too +late, with no human being in all the world to love, none to care for +me."</p> + +<p>"So Rita told me." The words were little more than a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I did not curse her; I disowned her and sought to forget. I could not. +Then I began to cry out for her in the night—in my loneliness—do you +know what that word means?"</p> + +<p>"Do I know?" The pathos in the echo was beyond description.</p> + +<p>"And then I began a search that ended only when ten years had buried all +hopes. No tidings, no word after her first letter ever reached me. She +is dead, I believe; but recently some of the mystery has been untangled. +I begin to know, to believe that there has been an awful error +somewhere. She did come back. Her child was born and Rita cared for it. +As God is my judge, I believe that you are that child! Tell me, do you +remember, have you any knowledge that will help me to unravel this +tangled——"</p> + +<p>"You are simply mistaken, general," said the young man, without moving +other than to fold his arms and sink back into his chair. "I am not the +son of Marion Evan." Speechless for a moment, the general gazed upon his +companion.</p> + +<p>"I thought I was," continued Gerald; "I hoped I was. My God! My God! I +tried to be! I have exhausted almost life itself to make the truth a +lie, and the lie a truth! I have struggled with this secret here for +twenty years or more; I have studied every phase of life; I well-nigh +broke Rita's heart. Poor honest Rita!</p> + +<p>"She told me what they claimed—she was too honest to conceal that—and +what she believed; she was too human to conceal that; and then left me +to judge. The woman they would have me own as my mother left me, a +lonely babe, to the care of strangers; to grow up ill-taught, unguided, +frail and haunted with a sickening fear. She has left me twenty-seven +years. Rita stayed. If I were sick, Rita was by me. If I was crazed, +Rita was there to calm. Sleepless by night, sleepless by day, she loved +and comforted and blessed me." He had risen in his growing excitement. +"I ask you, General, who have known life better than I, which of the two +was my mother? Let me answer; you will not. The woman of thirty years +ago is nothing to me; she was once. That has passed. When Rita lay dead +in her coffin I kissed her lips at last and called her mother. I would +have killed myself afterward—life seemed useless—but not so now. It +may be a terrible thing to be Rita's son; I suppose it is, but as before +God, I thank Him that I have come to believe that there are no ties of +blood between me and the woman who was false to both father and child, +and in all probability deserted her husband."</p> + +<p>Gen. Evan turned abruptly and rushed from the room. Edward saw his face +as he passed out through the hall and did not speak. With courtly +dignity he took Mary to the buggy and stood with bowed head until they +were gone. He then returned to the glass-room. Gerald stood among the +ruins of a drawing and the fragments of the marble bust lay on the +floor. One glance at this scene and the blazing eyes of the man was +sufficient. Evan had failed.</p> + +<p>"Tell them," exclaimed Gerald, "that even the son of a slave is +dishonored, when they seek to link him to a woman who abandons her +child."</p> + +<p>"What is it," asked Virdow, in a whisper, coming to Edward's side. +Edward shook his head and drew him from the room.</p> + +<p>"He does not know what he is saying."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>UNDER THE SPELL.</h3> + + +<p>The autumn days ran out and in the depth of the southern woods, here and +there, the black gums and sweet gums began to flame. And with them came +the day when the bandages were removed from the eyes of the gentle woman +at the hall. The family gathered about the little figure in the +sitting-room. Edward Morgan with them, and Col. Montjoy lowered the +bandage. The room had been darkened and all light except what came +through one open shutter had been excluded. There was a moment of +painful silence; Mary tightly clasping her mother's hands. The invalid +turned her face to the right and left, and then to the window.</p> + +<p>"Light," she said gently. "I see."</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" The words burst from the old man's lips and his arms went +around mother and daughter at once. For quicker than he the girl had +glided in between them and was clasping the beloved form. Edward said a +few words of congratulation and passed outside. The scene was sacred.</p> + +<p>Then came days of practice. The eyes so long darkened must be accustomed +to the light and not strained. Upon that weak vision, little by little, +came back the world, the trees and flowers, the faces of husband and +daughter and friends. It was a joyful season at the hall.</p> + +<p>A little sadder, a little sterner than usual, but with his fine face +flushed in sympathetic feeling, the old general came to add his +congratulations. Now nothing remained but to prepare for Paris, and all +was bustle.</p> + +<p>A few more nights and then—departure!</p> + +<p>Mary was at the piano, playing the simple music of the south and singing +the songs which were a part of the air she had breathed all her +life—the folk songs of the blacks.</p> + +<p>Col. Montjoy had the Duchess on his lap to hear "the little boy in his +watch crack hickory nuts" and the monotonous cracking of the nuts +mingling with the melody of the musician had put both asleep.</p> + +<p>Mary and Edward went to the veranda, and to them across the field came +the measured tread of feet, the call of the fiddler, and now and then +strains of music, such as the negro prefers.</p> + +<p>Edward proposed an excursion to witness the dance, and the girl assented +gladly. She was herself a born dancer; one whose feet were set to rhythm +in infancy.</p> + +<p>They reached the long house, a spacious one-room edifice, with low +rafters but a broad expanse of floor, and stood at the door. Couple +after couple passed by in the grand promenade, the variety and +incongruities of colors amusing Edward greatly. Every girl in passing +called repeatedly to "missy," the name by which Mary was known on the +plantation, and their dusky escorts bowed awkwardly and smiled.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the lines separated and a couple began to dance. Edward, who +had seen the dancers of most nations, was delighted with the abandon of +these. The man pursued the girl through the ranks, she eluding him with +ease, as he was purposely obstructed by every one. His object was to +keep as near her as possible for the final scene. At last she reappeared +in the open space and hesitating a moment, her dusky face wreathed in +smiles, darted through the doorway. There was a shout as her escort +followed. If he could catch her before she reëntered at the opposite +door she paid the penalty. Before Edward realized the situation the girl +was behind him. He stepped the wrong way, there was a collision, and ere +she could recover, her pursuer had her in his arms. There was a moment's +struggle; his distinct smack proved his success, and if it had not, the +resounding slap from the broad hand of his captive would have betrayed +matters.</p> + +<p>On went the dance. Mary stood patting time to the music of the violin in +the hands of old Morris, the presiding genius of the festival, who bent +and genuflected to suit the requirements of his task. As the revel grew +wilder, as it always does under the stimulus of a spectator's presence, +she motioned to Edward, and entering, stood by the player.</p> + +<p>"In all your skill," she said, "you cannot equal this." For reply the +young man, taking advantage of a pause in the rout, reached over and +took the well-worn instrument from the hands of the old man. There was a +buzz of interest. Catching the spirit of the scene he drew the bow and +gave them the wild dance music of the Hungarians. They responded +enthusiastically and the player did not fail.</p> + +<p>Then, when the tumult had reached its climax, there was a crash, and +with bow in air Edward, flushed and excited, stood gazing upon the +crowd. Then forty voices shouted:</p> + +<p>"Missy! Missy!" On the impulse of the moment they cheered and clapped +their hands.</p> + +<p>All eyes were turned to Mary. She looked into the face of the player; +his eyes challenged hers and she responded, instinctively the dusky +figures shrank to the wall and alone, undaunted, the slender girl stood +in the middle of the deserted floor. Edward played the gypsy dance, +increasing the time until it was a passionate melody, and Mary began. +Her lithe form swayed and bent and glided in perfect response to the +player, the little feet twinkling almost unseen upon the sandy boards. +Such grace, such allurements, he had never before dreamed of. And +finally, breathless, she stood one moment, her hand uplifted, the +triumphant interpreter of his melody. With mischievous smile, she sprang +from the door, her face turned backward for one instant.</p> + +<p>Releasing the instrument, Edward followed in perfect forgetfulness of +self and situation. But when, puzzled, he appeared alone at the opposite +door, he heard her laugh in the distance—and memory overwhelmed him +with her tide.</p> + +<p>He was pale and startled and the company was laughing. He cast a handful +of money among them and in the confusion that followed made his escape. +Mary was waiting demurely in the path.</p> + +<p>"It was perfect," he said, breaking the awkward silence.</p> + +<p>"Any one could dance to that music," was her reply.</p> + +<p>Silently they began their return. An old woman sat in her cabin door, a +fire of chunks making a red spot in the gloom behind.</p> + +<p>"We go to-morrow, Aunt Sylla. Is it for good or ill?" The woman was old +and wrinkled. She was the focus of all local superstition; one of the +ante-bellum voodoos. If her pewter spoons had been gold, her few beads +diamonds, she might have left the doors unbarred without danger.</p> + +<p>Mary had paused and asked the question to draw out the odd character for +her friend.</p> + +<p>"In the woods the clocks of heaven strike 11! Jeffers, who was never +born, speaks out," was the strange reply.</p> + +<p>"In the woods," said Mary, thoughtfully, "the dew drips tinkling from +the leaves; Jeffers, the redbird, was never born, but hatched. What does +he say, Aunt Sylla?" The woman was trying to light her pipe. Absence of +tobacco was the main cause of her failure. Edward crushed a cigar and +handed it to her. When she had lighted it she lifted the blazing chunk +and her faded eyes looked steadily upon the young man.</p> + +<p>"He says the gentleman will come some day and bring much tobacco." The +girl laughed, but the darkness hid her blushes.</p> + +<p>"In the meantime," said Edward cheerfully, placing a silver coin in her +hand, "you can tell your friend Jeffers that you are supplied."</p> + +<p>The negro's prophecy is usually based on shrewd guesses. Sylla grasped +the coin with the eagerness of a child receiving a new doll. She pointed +her finger at him and looked to the girl. Mary laughed.</p> + +<p>"Keep still a moment, Mr. Morgan," she said, "I must rob you."</p> + +<p>She took a strand or two of his hair between her little fingers and +plucked them out. Edward would not have flinched had there been fifty. +"Now something you have worn—what can it be? Oh, a button." She took +his penknife and cut from his coat sleeve one of its buttons. "There, +Aunt Sylla, if you are not successful with them I shall never forgive +you." The old woman took the hair and the button and relapsed into +silent smoking.</p> + +<p>"I am a little curious to know what she is going to do with those +things," said Edward. Mary looked at him shyly.</p> + +<p>"She is going to protect you," she said. "She will mix a little ground +glass and a drop of chicken blood with them, and sew all in a tiny bag. +No negro alive or dead would touch you then for the universe, and should +you touch one of them with that charm it would give them catalepsy. You +will get it to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"She is arming me with a terrible power at small cost," he replied, +dryly.</p> + +<p>"Old Sylla is a prophetess," said the girl, "as well as a voodoo, and +there is with us a tradition that death in the family will follow her +every visit to the house. It is strange, but within our memory it has +proved true. My infant brother, my only sister, mamma's brother, papa's +sister, an invalid northern cousin spending the winter here—all their +deaths were preceded by the appearance of old Sylla."</p> + +<p>"And is her success in prophecy as marked?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, so far as I know." She hesitated a moment. "Her prediction as to +myself has not had time to mature."</p> + +<p>"And what was the prediction?"</p> + +<p>"That some day a stranger would carry me into a strange land," she said, +smiling; "and—break my heart."</p> + +<p>They had reached the gate; except where the one light burned in the +sitting-room all was darkness and silence. Edward said gently, as he +stood holding open the gate:</p> + +<p>"I am a stranger and shortly I will take you into a strange land, but +may God forget me if I break your heart." She did not reply, but with +face averted passed in. The household was asleep. She carried the lamp +to his door and opened it. He took it and then her hand. For a moment +they looked into each other's eyes; then, gravely lifting the little +hand, he kissed it.</p> + +<p>"May God forget me," he said again, "if I break your heart." He held the +door open until she had passed down the stairs, her flushed face never +lifted again to his.</p> + +<p>And then with the shutting of the door came darkness. But in the gloom a +white figure came from the front doorway, stood listening at the stairs +and then as noiseless as a sunbeam glided down into the hall below.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>BARKSDALE'S WARNING.</h3> + + +<p>Edward was awakened by a cowhorn blown just before the peep of day and +the frantic baying of the hounds that Charlie Possum was bringing to the +house. As he dressed and came forth the echos of horses' feet were heard +in the distance upon the public roads and the cry of other hounds, and +as the gray dawn lighted the east the outer yard presented an animated +scene. About a dozen riders were dismounting or dismounted were trying +to force a place between the multitude of dogs, great and small, that +were settling old and new disputes rough and tumble, tooth and toe nail.</p> + +<p>There was little of the holiday attire that is usually seen at club +meets; the riders wore rough clothing and caps and their small slender +horses were accoutered with saddles and bridles that had been distinctly +"worn." But about all was a business air and promise of genuine sport. +Many of the dogs were of the old "July" stock, descendants of a famous +Maryland dog of 40 years before, whose progeny scattered throughout +Georgia constitute canine aristocracy wherever found—a slender-flanked, +fullchested animal, with markings of black and tan. Among them were +their English rivals of larger form and marked with blotches of red and +white.</p> + +<p>The servants were busy getting light refreshments for the riders. Mary +was the superintendent of this, but at the same time she was presiding +over a ceremony dear to the old south at all hours of the day. Into each +generous cut glass goblet that lined her little side table she poured a +few spoonsful of sweetened water, packing them with crushed ice. Down +through the little arctic heaps, a wineglassful of each, she poured a +ruby liquor grown old in the deep cellar, and planted above the radiated +pyramids little forests of mint. Nothing but silver is worthy to hold +such works of art, and so getting out an old, well-worn Montjoy silver, +its legend and crest almost faded into the general smoothness of their +background, she placed them there and began her ministry in the long +dining room. She made a pretty picture as she passed among the men, her +short, narrowskirted riding dress and little felt hat setting off her +lithe, active form perfectly. The ceremony was simple and short. +Everybody was eager to be off.</p> + +<p>Just as they mounted and rode out, Mary appeared from somewhere, mounted +upon a half broken colt, that betrayed a tendency to curve herself into +a half-moon, and gallop broadside against fences and trees that were +inconveniently located.</p> + +<p>Edward viewed the mount with alarm. Though a fairly good rider, he was +not up to cross country runs and he questioned his ability to be of much +assistance should the half broken animal bolt, with its fair burden. He +proposed an exchange, but Mary laughed at the idea.</p> + +<p>"Lorna is all right," she said, "but you could never get her out of the +yard. She will steady up after awhile, and the best of horses can't beat +her in getting round corners and over fences."</p> + +<p>"Daughter," said the colonel, checking his horse as he prepared to +follow, "are you sure of Lorna?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly. She is going to do her worst for a while and then her best. +Steady girl; don't disgrace yourself before company." Lorna danced and +tossed her head and chewed upon her bit with impatience.</p> + +<p>At that moment Barksdale rode into the yard, mounted upon a tall +thoroughbred, his equipments perfect, dress elegant, seat easy and +carriage erect. He seemed to Edward a perfect horseman. He gravely +saluted them both.</p> + +<p>"I see that I am in the nick of time, Miss Mary; I was afraid it was +late."</p> + +<p>"It is late," said the girl, "but this time it is a cat and doesn't +matter. The scent will lie long after sun-up." They were following then +and the conversation was difficult. Already the dark line of men was +disappearing down the line in its yet unbroken shadow. A mile away the +party turned into the low grounds and here the general met them riding +his great roan and, as always when mounted, having the appearance of an +officer on parade. He came up to the three figures in the rear and +saluted them cheerily. His old spirits seemed to have returned.</p> + +<p>They entered into a broad valley that had been fallow for several years. +Along the little stream that threaded its way down the middle with +zigzag indecision, grew the southern cane from 6 to 15 feet high; the +mass a hundred yards broad in places, and at others narrowing down to +fords. This cane growing erect is impenetrable for horses. The rest of +the valley, half a mile wide, was grown up in sage, broomstraw, little +pines and briars.</p> + +<p>The general shape of the ground was that of the letter Y, the stem being +the creek, and the arms its two feeders leading in from the hills. To +start at the lower end of the letter, travel up and out one arm to its +end, and return to the starting point, meant an eight mile ride, if the +cat kept to the cane as was likely. It was a mile across from arm to +arm, without cover except about an acre of sparse, low cane half way +between. When Mary came up to the leading riders, with her escort, they +were discussing a fact that all seemed to regard as significant. One of +the old dogs, "Leader," had uttered a sharp, quick yelp. All other dogs +were focusing toward her; their dark figures visible here and there as +they threaded the tangled way. Suddenly an angry, excited baying in +shrill falsetto was heard, and Evan shouted: "That's my puppy Carlo! +Where are your English dogs?"</p> + +<p>"Wait," said one of the party. "The English dogs will be in at start and +finish." Suddenly "Leader" opened fullmouthed, a second ahead of her +puppy, and the next instant, pandemonium broke loose. Forty-seven dogs +were racing in full cry up the stream. A dozen excited men were +following, with as much noise and skill as they could command.</p> + +<p>"A cat, by ——" exclaimed one of the neighbors. "I saw him!" Barksdale +led the way for the little group behind. Edward could have closed in, +but his anxiety for the girl was now developed into genuine fear. The +tumult was the signal for Lorna to begin a series of equine +calisthenics, more distinguished for violence than beauty. For she +planted her heels in the face of nature repeatedly, seemingly in an +impartial determination to destroy all the cardinal points of the +compass. This exercise she varied with agile leaps upward, and bunching +of feet as she came down.</p> + +<p>Edward was about to dismount to take hold of her when Lorna, probably +discerning that it was unnecessary to get rid of her rider before +joining the rout, went past him like a leaf upon a hurricane. He planted +spurs in his horse's side and followed with equal speed, but she was now +far ahead. He saw her skim past Barksdale, and that gentleman with but a +slight motion of his knees increased his speed. And then Lorna and the +thoroughbred went straight into the wall of cane, but instead of a +headlong plunge and a mixture of human being and struggling animal +floundering in the break, he simply saw—nothing. The pair went out of +sight like an awkwardly snuffed candle.</p> + +<p>He had no time to wonder; the next instant he was going through a hog +path in the cane, the tall stems rattling madly against his knees, his +eyes dazed by the rushing past of so many near and separate points of +vision. Then he rose in air. There was a flash of water underneath and +down he came into the path. The open world burst upon him again like a +beautiful picture. He only saw the flying figure of the girl upon a mad +colt. Was she trying in vain to hold it? Would she lose her head? Would +her nerve forsake her? Heavens!! She is plying her whip with might and +main, and the man on the thoroughbred at her heels looks back over his +shoulder into Edward's white face and smiles. Then they disappear into +the green wall again and again the world is reborn on the other side.</p> + +<p>The pace tells. One by one Edward passes the riders. The old general +comes up at last. As Mary goes by, he gives what Edward supposes to be +the old rebel yell of history and then they are out of the end of one +arm of the Y and heading for the clump of cane.</p> + +<p>There has been little dodging. With so many dogs plunging up both sides +of the creek, and picking up its trail as he crossed and re-crossed, the +cat had finally to adopt a straightaway program as the cover would +permit. If it dodged once in this little bit of small cane it was lost. +It did not dodge. It went straight into the end of the other arm of the +Y and to the astonishment of all the hunters apparently went out again +and across a sedge field toward the hills.</p> + +<p>It was then a straight race of half a mile and the dogs won. They +snarled and pulled and fought around the carcass, when Lorna went +directly over them and was "sawed up" at the edge of the woods 50 yards +further. One of the hunters jumped down and plucked the carcass from the +dogs and held it up. It was a gray fox. The dogs had run over him in the +little cane and indulged in a view chase. The cat was elsewhere!</p> + +<p>Exclamations of disgust were heard on all sides and Evan looked +anxiously among the gathering dogs.</p> + +<p>"Where is Carlo?" he asked of several. "Has anybody seen Carlo?" Nobody +had, apparently; but at that moment in the distance, down the arm of the +Y which Reynard had crossed, they heard a sharp, puppyish cry, +interspersed with the fuller voicings of an old dog.</p> + +<p>"There is Carlo!" shouted the old gentleman in a stentorian voice. "And +Leader," interpolated Montjoy.</p> + +<p>"Come on with your English dogs! Ha, ha, ha!" and Evan was gone. But +Lorna was done for the day. She distinctly refused to become enthused +any more. She had carried her rider first in at the death in one race +and the bush had been handed to Mary. Lorna responded to the efforts to +force her, by indulging in her absurd half-moon antics. Barksdale and +Edward turned back.</p> + +<p>"It will come around on the same circuit," said Barksdale, speaking of +the cat; "let us ride out into the open space and see it." They took +position and listened. Two miles away, about at the fork of the Y, they +could hear the echo of the tumult. If the cat went down the main stem +the day was probably spoiled; if it came back up the other branch as +before, they were in good position.</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer came the rout and then the dogs swarmed all over the +lone acre of cane. The animal had dodged back from the horsemen standing +there and was now surrounded.</p> + +<p>The dogs ran here and there trotting along outside the cane careless and +fagged suddenly became animated again and sprang upon a crouching form, +whose eyeballs could even from a distance, be seen to roll and glare +frightfully. There was one motion, the yelping puppy went heels over +head with a wound from neck to hip, and Carlo had learned to respect the +wild cat. But the next instant a dozen dogs were rolling in horrid +combat with the animal and then a score were pulling at the gray and tan +form that offered no more resistance.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-five pounds," said an expert, holding up the dead cat. A front +foot was cut off and passed up for examination. It was as large as a +man's fist and the claws were like the talons of a condor.</p> + +<p>The general was down, examining the wound of poor Carlo, and, all +rivalry cast aside, the experienced hunters closed in to help him. It +was not a question now of Maryland or England; a puppy that would hold a +trail when abandoned by a pack of old dogs whom it was accustomed to +follow and rely upon its own judgment as to wherein lay its duty, and +first of all, after a 16 mile run, plants its teeth in the quarry—was +now more than a puppy. Ask any old fox hunter and he will prophesy that +from the day of the killing of the cat, whenever Carlo opened in a hunt, +no matter how much the other dogs might be interested, they would +suspend judgment and flock to him. That day made Carlo a Napoleon among +canines.</p> + +<p>Edward was an interested observer of the gentle surgery being practiced +upon the dog. At length he ventured to ask a question. "What is his +name, General?"</p> + +<p>"Carlo."</p> + +<p>"And I presume he is not what you call an English dog?"</p> + +<p>The general looked at him fiercely; then his features relaxed. "Go away, +Edward, go away—and give the dog a chance."</p> + +<p>Barksdale had ridden to one side with Mary and was gravely studying the +scene. Presently he said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"When is it you leave for Europe?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow."</p> + +<p>"There is a matter pending," he said quietly, "that renders it +peculiarly unfortunate." She regarded him with surprise. "What I say is +for you alone. I know Mr. Morgan has been out here for several days and +has probably not been made aware of what is talked in town." Briefly he +acquainted her with the rumors afloat and seeing her deep concern and +distress added: "The affair is trivial with Mr. Morgan; he can easily +silence the talk, but in his absence, if skillfully managed, it can +affect his reputation seriously."</p> + +<p>"Skillfully managed?"</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose that Mr. Morgan is without enemies?"</p> + +<p>"Who could be his enemy?" She asked quickly, then flushed and was +silent.</p> + +<p>"I will not risk an injustice to innocent people," he said slowly, "but +he has enemies, I leave it to you to decide whether to acquaint him with +what is going on or not. I do not even advise you. But I came on this +hunt to acquaint you with the situation. If the man whom I suspect is +guilty in this matter he will not leave a stone unturned to destroy his +rival. It is nearer home from this point than from the hall and I have +business waiting. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He saluted Morgan, who was approaching, and went rapidly away. Mary rode +home in silence, returning only monosyllables to her escort. But when +she spoke of being doubtful of their ability to get ready by morning and +Edward proposed to cancel his order for berths, she hesitated. After all +the affair was ridiculous. She let it pass from her mind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + +<h3>THE HIDDEN HAND.</h3> + + +<p>It matters little what kind of seed is planted, it finds its proper +elements in the soil. So with rumors. There is never a rumor so wild, +but that finds a place for its roots.</p> + +<p>It soon reached the coroner, that zealous officer whose compensation is +based upon fees, that his exchequer had been defrauded by the improper +burial of a woman out at Ilexhurst. She had dropped dead, and there had +not been a witness. An inquest was proper; was necessary. He began an +investigation. And then appeared in the brevity columns of one of the +papers the incipient scandal:</p> + +<p>"It is whispered that suspicions of foul play are entertained in +connection with Rita, the housekeeper of the late John Morgan at +Ilexhurst. The coroner will investigate."</p> + +<p>And the next day the following:</p> + +<p>"Our vigilant coroner has made inquiry into the death and burial of Rita +Morgan, and feels that the circumstances demand a disinterment and +examination of the body. So far the rumors of foul play come from +negroes only. It seems that Mr. Edward Morgan found the woman lying in +his yard, and that she died almost immediately after the discovery. It +was upon the night but one preceding his meeting with Mr. Royson on the +field of honor, and during his absence next day the body was hurriedly +interred. There is little doubt that the woman came to her death from +natural causes, but it is known that she had few if any friends among +her race, and other circumstances attending her demise are such that the +body will be disinterred and examined for evidence."</p> + +<p>Even this did not especially interest the public. But when next day the +morning papers came out with triple headlines the first of which was +"Murdered," followed by a succinct account of the disinterment of Rita +Morgan, as she was called, with the discovery of a cut on the left +temple and a wound in the back of the head that had crushed in the +skull, the public was startled. No charge was made against Edward +Morgan, no connection hinted at, but it was stated in the history of the +woman, that she was the individual referred to in Royson's famous letter +on which the duel had been fought, and that she died suddenly upon the +day it was published. The paper said that it was unfortunate that Mr. +Morgan had left several days before for Paris, and had sailed that +morning from New York.</p> + +<p>Then the public tongue began to wag and the public mind to wait +impatiently for the inquest.</p> + +<p>The inquest was held in due form. The surgeons designated to examine the +supposed wounds reported them genuine, the cut in the temple trifling, +the blow in the back of the head sufficient to have caused death.</p> + +<p>A violent discussion ensued when the jury came to make up its verdict, +but the conservative members carried the day. A verdict of "death by a +blow upon the head by a weapon in the hands of a person or persons +unknown to the jury" was rendered; the body reinterred and the crowds of +curiosity seekers withdrew from Ilexhurst.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately during the era of excitement Gerald was locked in his +room, lost in the contemplation of some question of memory that had come +upon him, and he was not summoned as a witness, from the fact that in no +way had he been mentioned in the case, except by Gen. Evan, who +testified that he was asleep when the death occurred. The German +professor and Gen. Evan were witnesses and gave their testimony readily.</p> + +<p>Evan explained that, although present at the finding of the body, he +left immediately to meet a gentleman who had called, and did not return. +When asked as to Edward's actions he admitted that they were excited, +but stated that other matters, naming them briefly, were engaging them +at the same time and that they were of a disturbing nature. The woman, +he said, had first attracted Edward's attention by falling against the +glass, which she was evidently looking through, and which she broke in +her fall. If she was struck, it was probably at that moment.</p> + +<p>He was positive in his belief that at the time the sound of falling +glass was heard Edward was in the room, but he would not state it under +oath as a fact. It was this evidence that carried the day.</p> + +<p>When asked where was Edward Morgan and the reason for his absence, he +said that he had gone as the escort of Mrs. Montjoy to Paris, where her +eyes were to be examined, and that the trip had been contemplated for +several weeks. Also that he would return in less than a month.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the gravest of comments began to be heard upon the +streets, and prophecies were plenty that Edward would never return.</p> + +<p>And into these began to creep a word now and then for Royson. "He knew +more than he could prove," "was the victim of circumstances," "a bold +fellow," etc., were fragments of conversation connected with his name.</p> + +<p>"We fought out that issue once," he said, briefly, when asked directly +about the character of the woman Rita, "and it is settled so far as I am +concerned." And the public liked the answer.</p> + +<p>No charge, however, had been brought against Edward Morgan; the matter +was simply one that disturbed the public; it wanted his explanation and +his presence. But behind it all, behind the hesitancy which the stern, +open championship of Evan and Montjoy commanded, lay the proposition +that of all people in the world only Edward Morgan could have been +benefited by the death of the woman; that he was the only person present +and that she died a violent death. And people would talk.</p> + +<p>Then came a greater shock. A little paper, the Tell-Tale, published in +an adjoining city and deriving its support from the publication of +scandals, in which the victim was described without naming, was cried +upon the street. Copies were sold by the hundreds, then thousands. It +practically charged that Edward Morgan was the son of Rita Morgan; that +upon finding Royson possessed of his secret he first killed the woman +and then tried to kill that gentleman in a duel into which Morgan went +with everything to gain and nothing to lose; that upon seeing the storm +gathering he had fled the country, under the pretense of escorting a +very estimable young lady and her mother abroad, the latter going to +have her eyes examined by a Parisian expert, the celebrated Moreau.</p> + +<p>It proceeded further; the young man had completely hoodwinked and +deceived the family to which these ladies belonged, and, it was +generally understood, would some day become the husband and son-in-law. +Every sensational feature that could be imagined was brought out—even +Gerald did not escape. He was put in as the legitimate heir of John +Morgan; the child of a secret marriage, a <i>non compos mentis</i> whose +property was being enjoyed by the other.</p> + +<p>The excitement in the city reached white heat. Col. Montjoy and Gen. +Evan came out in cards and denounced the author of the letter an +infamous liar, and made efforts to bring the editor of the sheet into +court. He could not be found.</p> + +<p>Days slipped by, and then came the climax! One of the sensational papers +of New York published a four-column illustrated article headed "A +Southern Tragedy," which pretended to give the history of all the +Morgans for fifty years or more. In this story the writer displayed +considerable literary ability, and the situations were dramatically set +forth. Pictures of Ilexhurst were given; the murder of a negro woman in +the night and a fancy sketch of Edward. The crowning shame was bold +type. No such sensation had been known since the race riots of 1874.</p> + +<p>In reply to this Montjoy and Evan also telegraphed fiery denunciations +and demanded the author's name. Their telegrams were published, and +demands treated with contempt. Norton Montjoy, in New York, had himself +interviewed by rival papers, gave the true history of Morgan and +denounced the story in strong terms. He consulted lawyers and was +informed that the Montjoys had no right of action.</p> + +<p>Court met and the grand jury conferred. Here was evidence of murder, and +here was a direct published charge. In vain Evan and Virdow testified +before it. The strong influence of the former could not carry the day. +The jury itself was political. It was part of the Swearingen ring. When +it had completed its labors and returned its batch of bills, it was +known in a few hours that Edward Morgan had been indicted for the murder +of Rita Morgan.</p> + +<p>Grief and distress unspeakable reigned in the houses of Gen. Evan and +Col. Montjoy, and in his bachelor quarters that night one man sat with +his face upon his hands and thought out all of the details of the sad +catastrophe. An unspeakable sorrow shone in his big eyes. Barksdale had +been touched in the tenderest part of his life. Morgan he admired and +respected, but the name of the woman he loved had been bespattered with +mud. With him there rested no duty. Had the circumstances been +different, there would have been a tragedy at the expense of his last +dollar—and he was rich.</p> + +<p>At the expense even of his enterprise and his business reputation, he +would have found the author of those letters and have shot him to death +at the door of a church, if necessary. There is one point on which the +south has suffered no change.</p> + +<p>Morgan, he felt, would do the same, but now, alas, Morgan was indicted +for another murder, and afterward it would be too late. Too late! He +sprang to his feet and gave vent to a frightful malediction; then he +grew calm through sheer astonishment. Without knock or inquiry his door +was thrown open and Gerald Morgan rushed into the room.</p> + +<p>When Barksdale had last seen this man he doubted his ability to stand +the nervous strain put upon him, but here was evidence of an excitement +tenfold greater. Gerald quivered like an overtaxed engine, and deep in +the pale face the blazing eyes shone with a horrible fierceness. The cry +he uttered as he paused before Barksdale was so unearthly that he +unconsciously drew back. The young man was unrolling some papers. Upon +them were the scenes of the grave as he drew them—the open coffin, the +shrunken face of the woman—and then, in all its repulsive exactness, +the face of the man who had turned upon the artist under the electric +light!</p> + +<p>"What does it mean, my friend?" said Barksdale, seeking by a forced +calmness to reduce the almost irrational visitor to reason again.</p> + +<p>"What?" exclaimed Gerald; "don't you understand? The man uncovered that +coffin; he struck that blow upon poor dead Rita's head! I saw him face +to face and drew those pictures that night. There is the date."</p> + +<p>"You saw him?" Barksdale could not grasp the truth for an instant.</p> + +<p>"I saw him!"</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know; I do not know!" A thrill ran through the now eager man, +and he felt that instead of calming the excitement of his visitor he was +getting infected by it. He sat down deliberately.</p> + +<p>"Take a seat, Mr. Morgan, and tell me about it." But Gerald dropped the +pictures and stood over them.</p> + +<p>"There was the grave," he said, "and the man was down in it; I stood up +here and lifted a spade, but then he had struck and was arranging her +hair. If he had struck her again I would have killed him. I wanted to +see what it was about. I wanted to see the man. He fled, and then I +followed. Downtown I saw him under an electric light and got his face. +He was the man, the infamous, cowardly scoundrel who struck poor Rita in +her coffin; but why—why should any one want to strike Rita? I can't +see. I can't see. And then to charge Edward with it!"</p> + +<p>Barksdale's blood ran cold during the recital, the scene so vividly +pictured, the uncanny face before him. It was horrible. But over all +came the realization that some hidden hand was deliberately striking at +the life of Edward Morgan through the grave of the woman. The +cowardliness, the infamy, the cruelty was overpowering. He turned away +his face.</p> + +<p>But the next instant he was cool. It was a frail and doubtful barrier +between Edward and ruin, this mind unfolding its secret. If it failed +there was no other witness.</p> + +<p>"What became of the man, did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I wanted his face; I got it."</p> + +<p>"Where did you last see him?"</p> + +<p>"On the street." Barksdale arose deliberately.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morgan, how did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I walked. I want you to help me find the man who struck the +blow."</p> + +<p>"You are right, we must find the man. Now, I have a request to make. +Edward trusted to my judgment in the other affair, and it came out +right, did it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is why I have come to you."</p> + +<p>"Trust me again. Go home now and take that picture. Preserve it as you +would your life, for on it may hang the life of Edward Morgan. You +understand? And do not open your lips on this subject to any one until I +see you again."</p> + +<p>Gerald rolled up the paper and turned away abruptly. Barksdale followed +him down the steps and called a hack.</p> + +<p>"Your health," he said to Gerald, as he gently forced him into the +carriage, "must not be risked." And to the driver, slipping a fee in his +hand: "Take Mr. Morgan to Ilexhurst. Remember, Mr. Morgan," he called +out.</p> + +<p>"I remember," was the reply. "I never forget. Would to God I could."</p> + +<p>Barksdale walked rapidly to the livery stable.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + +<h3>WITH THE WOMAN WHO LOVED HIM.</h3> + + +<p>Edward Morgan gave himself up to the dream. The flying train sped +onward, out of the pine forest, into the hills and the shadow of +mountains, into the broad world of life and great cities.</p> + +<p>They had the car almost to themselves, for the northward travel is small +at that season.</p> + +<p>Before him was the little woman of the motherly face and smooth, soft +hand, and behind her, lost in the contemplation of the light literature +with which he had surrounded her, was the girl about whom all the +tendrils of his hungry life were twining. He could see her half-profile, +the contour of the smooth cheek, the droop of eyelid, the fluff of curly +hair over her brow, and the shapely little head. He was content.</p> + +<p>It was a novel and suggestive situation. And yet—only a dream. No +matter how far he wandered, how real seemed the vision, it always ended +there—it was but a dream, a waking dream. He had at last no part in her +life; he would never have.</p> + +<p>And yet again, why not? The world was large; he felt its largeness as +they rushed from center to center, saw the teeming crowds here, the +far-stretching farms and dwellings there. The world was large, and they +were at best but a man and a woman. If she loved him what did it matter? +It meant only a prolonged and indefinite stay abroad in the land he best +knew; all its pleasures, its comforts, his—and hers.</p> + +<p>If only she loved him! He lived over every minute detail of their short +companionship, from the hour he saw her, the little madonna, until he +kissed her hand and promised unnecessarily that he would never break her +heart. A strange comfort followed this realization. Come what might, +humiliation, disgrace, separation, she loved him!</p> + +<p>His fixed gaze as he dreamed had its effect; she looked up from her +pictures and back to him.</p> + +<p>A rush of emotions swept away his mood; he rose almost angrily; it was a +question between him and his Savior only. God had made the world and +named its holiest passion love, and if they loved blindly, foolishly, +fatally, God, not he, was to blame. He went and sat by her.</p> + +<p>"You puzzle me sometimes," she said. "You are animated and bright +and—well, charming often—and then you seem to go back into your shell +and hide. I am afraid you are not happy, Mr. Morgan."</p> + +<p>"Not happy? Hardly. But then no bachelor can be quite happy," he added, +returning her smile.</p> + +<p>"I should think otherwise," she answered. "When I look about among my +married friends I sometimes wonder why men ever marry. They seem to +surrender so much for so little. I am afraid if I were a bachelor there +isn't a woman living whom I would marry—not if she had the wealth of +Vanderbilt."</p> + +<p>Edward laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"If you were a bachelor," he answered, "you would not have such +thoughts."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why," she said trying to frown.</p> + +<p>"Because you are not a bachelor."</p> + +<p>"Then," she said, mockingly, "I suppose I never will—since I can't be a +bachelor."</p> + +<p>"The mystery to me," said Edward, "is why women ever marry."</p> + +<p>"Because they love," answered the girl. "There is no mystery about +that."</p> + +<p>"But they take on themselves so much care, anxiety, suffering."</p> + +<p>"Love can endure that."</p> + +<p>"And how often it means—death!"</p> + +<p>"And that, too, love does not consider. It would not hesitate if it knew +in advance."</p> + +<p>"You speak for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. If I loved, I am afraid I would love blindly, recklessly. +It is the way of Montjoy women—and they say I am all Montjoy."</p> + +<p>"Would you follow barefooted and in rags from city to city behind a man, +drunken and besotted, to sing upon the streets for a crust and sleep +under a hedge, his chances your chances, and you with no claim upon him +save that you loved him once? I have seen it." She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"The man I loved could never sink so low. He would be a gentleman, proud +of his name, of his talents, of his honor. If misfortune came he would +starve under the first hedge before he would lead me out to face a +scornful world. And if it were misfortune only I would sing for +him—yes, if necessary, beg, unknown to him for money to help him in +misfortune. Only let him keep the manliness within him undimmed by act +of his." He gazed into her glowing face.</p> + +<p>"I thank you," he said. "I never understood a true woman's heart +before."</p> + +<p>The express rushed into new and strange scenes. There were battlefields +pointed out by the conductor—mere landscapes only the names of which +were thrilling. Manassas glided by, the birthplace of a great hope that +perished. How often she had heard her father and the general tell of +that battle!</p> + +<p>And then the white shaft of the Washington monument, and the capitol +dome rose in the distance.</p> + +<p>As they glided over the long bridge across the Potomac and touched the +soil of the capital city and the street lights went past, the young +woman viewed the scenes with intense interest. Washington! But for that +infamous assault upon her father, through the man who had been by her +side, he would have walked the streets again, a Southern congressman!</p> + +<p>They took rooms to give the little mamma a good night's rest, and then, +with the same unconventional freedom of the hall, Mary wandered out with +Edward to view the avenue. They went and stood at the foot of that great +white pile which closes one end of the avenue, and were awed into +silence by its grandeur.</p> + +<p>She would see grander sights, but never one that would impress her more. +She thought of her father alone, away back in Georgia, at the old home, +sitting just then upon the porch smoking his pipe. Perhaps the Duchess +was asleep in his lap, perhaps the general had come over to keep him +company, and if so they were talking of the absent ones. Edward saw her +little hand lightly laid upon her eyes for a moment, and comprehended.</p> + +<p>Morning! And now the crowded train sweeps northward through the great +cities and opens up bits of marine views. For the first time the girl +sees a stately ship, with wings unfurled, "go down into the seas," +vanishing upon the hazy horizon, "like some strain of sweet melody +silenced and made visible," as Edward quoted from a far-away poet +friend.</p> + +<p>"And if you will watch it intently," he added, "and forget yourself you +will lose sight of the ship and hear again the melody." And then came +almost endless streets of villages and towns, the smoke of factories, +the clamor and clangor of life massed in a small compass, a lull of the +motion, hurrying crowds and the cheery, flushed face of Norton pressed +to his mother's and to hers.</p> + +<p>The first stage of the journey was over. Across the river rose, in dizzy +disorder and vastness, New York.</p> + +<p>The men clasped hands and looked each other in the eyes, Montjoy +smiling, Morgan grave. It seemed to the latter that the smile of his +friend meant nothing; that behind it lay anxiety, questioning. He did +not waver under the look, and in a moment the hand that held his +tightened again. Morgan had answered. Half the conversation of life is +carried on without words. Morgan had answered, but he could not forget +his friend's questioning gaze. Nor could he forget that his friend had a +wife.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + +<h3>THE SONG THE OCEAN SANG.</h3> + + +<p>The stay of the party in New York was short. Norton was busy with trade +that could not wait. He stole a part of a day, stuffed the pocketbooks +of the ladies with gold, showed them around and then at last they looked +from the deck of a "greyhound" and saw the slopes of Staten island and +the highlands sink low upon the horizon.</p> + +<p>The first night at sea! The traveler never forgets it. Scenes of the +past may shine through it like ink renewed in the dimmed lines of a +palimpsest through later records, but this night stands supreme as if it +were the sum of all. For in this night the fatherland behind and the +heart grown tender in the realization of its isolation, come back again +the olden experiences. Dreams that have passed into the seas of eternity +meet it and shine again. Old loves return and fold their wings, and +hopes grown wrinkled with disappointment throw off dull Time's imprints +and are young once more.</p> + +<p>To the impressionable heart of the girl, the vastness and the solemnity +brought strange thoughts. She stood by the rail, silenced, sad, but not +with the sadness that oppresses. By her was the man who through life's +hidden current had brought her all unknowing into harmony with the +eternal echos rising into her consciousness.</p> + +<p>At last she came back to life's facts. She found her hand in his again, +and gently, without protest, disengaged it. Her face was white and fixed +upon nothingness.</p> + +<p>"Of what are you thinking?" she asked, gently. He started and drew +breath with a gasp.</p> + +<p>"I do not know—of you, I suppose." And then, as she was silent and +embarrassed: "There is a tone in the ocean, a note I have never heard +before, and I have listened on all seas. But here is the new song +different from all. I could listen forever."</p> + +<p>"I have read somewhere," she said, "that all the sound waves escape to +the ocean. They jostle and push against each other where men abound, the +new crowding out the old; but out at sea there is room for all. It may +be that you hear only as your heart is attuned."</p> + +<p>He nodded his head, pleased greatly.</p> + +<p>"Then I have heard to-night," he said, earnestly, "a song of a woman to +the man she loves."</p> + +<p>"But you could not have heard it unless your heart was attuned to love's +melodies. Have you ever loved a woman, Mr. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>He started and his hand tightened upon the guard.</p> + +<p>"I was a boy in heart when I went abroad," he said. "I had never known a +woman's love and sympathy. In Switzerland a little girl gave me a glass +of goat's milk at a cottage door in the mountains. She could not have +been more than 12 years old. I heard her singing as I approached, her +voice marvelous in its power and pathos. Her simple dress was artistic, +her face frank and eyes confiding. I loved her. I painted her picture +and carried her both in my heart and my satchel for three years. I did +not love her and yet I believed I did. But I think that I must have +loved at some time. As you say, I could not have heard if it were not +so." He drew her away and sought the cabin. But when he said good-night +he came and walked the deck for an hour, and once he tossed his arms +above him and cried out in agony: "I cannot! I cannot! The heart was not +made for such a strain!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Six times they saw the sun rise over the path ahead, ascend to the +zenith and sink away, and six times the endless procession of stars +glinted on the myriad facets of the sea. The hundreds of strange faces +about them grew familiar, almost homelike. The ladies made +acquaintances; but Edward none. When they were accessible he never left +their presence, devoting himself with tender solicitude to their +service, reading to them, reciting bits of adventure, explaining the +phenomena of the elements, exhibiting the ship and writing in their +journals the record for the father at home. When they were gone he +walked the deck silent, moody, sad; alone in the multitude.</p> + +<p>People had ceased to interest him. Once only did he break the silence; +from the ship's orchestra he borrowed a violin, and standing upon the +deck, as at first, he found the love-song again and linked it forever +with his life. It was the ocean's gift and he kept it.</p> + +<p>He thought a great deal, but from the facts at home he turned +resolutely. They should not mar the only summer of his heart. "Not now," +he would say to these trooping memories. "After a while you may come and +be heard."</p> + +<p>But of the future he thought and dreamed. He pictured a life with the +woman he loved, in every detail; discounting its pleasures, denying the +possibility of sorrow. There were times when with her he found himself +wishing to be alone that he might review the dream and enlarge it. It +ceased to be a dream, it became a fact, he lived with it and he lived by +it. It was possible no longer; it was certain. Some day he would begin +it; he would tell it to her and make it so beautiful she would consent.</p> + +<p>All this time the elder lady thought, listened and knitted. She was one +of those gentle natures not made for contentions, but for soothing. She +was never idle. Edward found himself watching the busy needles as they +fought for the endless thread, and marveled. What patience! What +continuity! What endurance!</p> + +<p>The needles of good women preach as they labor. He knew the history of +these. For forty years they had labored, those bits of steel in the +velvet fingers. Husband, children, slaves, all had felt upon their feet +the soft summings of their calculations. One whole company of soldiers, +the gallant company her husband had led into Confederate service, had +threaded the Wilderness in her socks, and died nearly all at Malvern +Hill. Down deep under the soil of the old Mother State they planted her +work from sight, and the storms of winter removed its imprints where, +through worn and wasted leather, it had touched virgin soil as the +bleeding survivors came limping home. Forty years had stilled the +thought on which it was based. It was strong and resolute still. Some +day the needles would rust out of sight, the hands be folded in rest and +the thought would be gone. Edward glanced from the woman to the girl.</p> + +<p>"Not so," he said, softly; "the thought will live. Other hands trained +under its sweet ministry will take up the broken threads; the needles +will flash again. Woman's work is never done, and never will be while +love and faith and courage have lodgment upon earth.</p> + +<p>"Did you speak, Mr. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly. I have fallen into the habit of thinking aloud. And I was +thinking of you; it must have been a great privilege to call you mother, +Mrs. Montjoy." She smiled a little.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you think so."</p> + +<p>"I have never called any by that name," he said, slowly, looking away. +"I never knew a mother."</p> + +<p>"That will excuse a great many things in a man's life," she said, in +sympathy. "You have no remembrance, then?"</p> + +<p>"None. She died when I was an infant, I suppose, and I grew up, +principally, in schools."</p> + +<p>"And your father?"</p> + +<p>"He also—died." He was reckless for the moment. "Sometimes I think I +will ask you to let me call you—mother. It is late to begin, but think +of a man's living and dying without once speaking the name to a woman."</p> + +<p>"Call me that if you will. You are certainly all that a son could be to +me."</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said, reflectively, "mother," and then looking toward Mary +he saw that, though reading, her face was crimson; "that gives me a +sister, does it not?" he added, to relieve the situation. She glanced +toward him, smiling.</p> + +<p>"As you will, brother Edward—how natural."</p> + +<p>"I like the mother better," he said, after a pause. "I have observed +that brothers do not wear well. I should hate to see the day when it +would not be a pleasure to be with you, Miss Montjoy." He could not +control nor define his mood.</p> + +<p>"Then," she said, with eyes upon the book, "let it not be brother. I +would be sorry to see you drift away—we are all your friends."</p> + +<p>"Friends!" He repeated the word contemplatively. "That is another word I +am not fond of. I have seen so many friends—not my own, but friends of +others! Friends steal your good name, your opportunities, your +happiness, your time and your salvation. Oh, friendship!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you to-day, Mr. Morgan?" said Mary. "I don't +think I ever saw you in just such a frame of mind. What has made you +cynical?"</p> + +<p>"Am I cynical? I did not know it. Possibly I am undergoing a +metamorphosis. Such things occur about us every day. Have you ever seen +the locust, as he is called, come up out of the earth and attach himself +to a tree and hang there brooding, living an absolutely worthless life? +Some day a rent occurs down his own back and out comes the green cicada, +with iridescent wings; no longer a dull plodder, but now a swift +wanderer, merry and musical. So with the people about you. Useless and +unpicturesque for years, they some day suffer a change; a piece of good +luck, success in business; any of these can furnish sunlight, and the +change is born. Behold your clodhopper is a gay fellow."</p> + +<p>"But," said the girl, laughing, "the simile is poor; you do not see the +cicada go back from the happy traveler stage and become a cynic."</p> + +<p>"True. What does become of him? Oh, yes; along comes the ichneumon fly +and by a skillful blow on the spine paralyzes him and then thrusts under +his skin an egg to be warmed into life by its departing heat. That is +the conclusion; your gay fellow and careless traveler gets an +overwhelming blow; an idea or a fact, or a bit of information to brood +upon; and some day it kills him."</p> + +<p>She was silent, trying to read the meaning in his words. What idea, what +fact, what overwhelming blow were killing him? Something, she was sure, +had disturbed him. She had felt it for weeks.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montjoy expressed a desire to go to her stateroom, and Edward +accompanied her. The girl had ceased reading and sat with her chin in +hand, revolving the matter. After he had resumed his position she turned +to find his gaze upon her. They walked to the deck; the air was cold and +bracing.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you are so opposed to sisters," she said, smiling. "If I +were a sister I would ask you to share your trouble with me."</p> + +<p>"What trouble?"</p> + +<p>"The trouble that is changing the careless traveler to a cynic—is +killing his better self."</p> + +<p>He ceased to speak in metaphor. "There is a trouble," he said, after +reflection; "but one beyond your power to remedy or lighten. Some day I +will tell it to you—but not now."</p> + +<p>"You do not trust me."</p> + +<p>"I do not trust myself." She was silent, looking away. She said no more. +Pale and trembling with suppressed emotion, he stood up. A look of +determination came into his eyes, and he faced her. At that moment a +faint, far cry was heard and every one in sight looked forward.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked a passenger, as the captain passed.</p> + +<p>"The cliffs of England," he said. Edward turned and walked away, leaving +her leaning upon the rail. He came back smoking. His mood had passed.</p> + +<p>The excitement had begun at once. On glided the good ship. Taller grew +the hills, shipping began to appear, and land objects to take shape. And +then the deep heart throbbing ceased and the glad voyagers poured forth +upon the shore.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE DEATH OF GASPARD LEVIGNE.</h3> + + +<p>Paris!</p> + +<p>With emotions difficult to appreciate Edward found himself at home, for +of all places Paris meant that to him. He went at once to his old +quarters; a suite of rooms in a quiet but accessible street, where was +combined something of both city and suburban life. The concierge almost +overwhelmed him with his welcome.</p> + +<p>In obedience to his letters, everything had been placed in order, books +and furniture dusted, the linen renewed, the curtains laundered and +stiffened anew, and on the little center table was a vase of crimson +roses—a contribution for madame and mademoiselle.</p> + +<p>His own, the larger room, was surrendered to the ladies; the smaller he +retained. There was the little parlor between, for common use. Outside +was the shady vista of the street and in the distance the murmur of the +city.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montjoy was delighted with the arrangement and the scene. Mary +absorbed all the surroundings of the owner's past life; every picture, +every book and bit of bric-a-brac, all were parts of him and full of +interest. The very room seemed imbued with his presence. Here was his +shaded student's lamp, there the small upright piano, with its stack of +music and, in place ready for the player, an open sheet. It might have +been yesterday that he arose from its stool, walked out and closed the +door.</p> + +<p>It was a little home, and when coming into the parlor from his dressing +room, Edward saw her slender figure, he paused, and then the old +depression returned.</p> + +<p>She found him watching her, and noted the troubled look upon his face.</p> + +<p>"It is all so cozy and beautiful," she said. "I am so glad that you +brought us here rather than to a hotel."</p> + +<p>"And I, too, if you are pleased."</p> + +<p>"Pleased! It is simply perfect!"</p> + +<p>A note lay upon the center table. He noticed that it was addressed to +him, and, excusing himself, opened it and read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"M. Morgan. Benoni, the maestro, is ill and desires monsieur. +It will be well if monsieur comes quickly.</p> + +<p>"Annette."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He rang the bell hurriedly and the concierge appeared.</p> + +<p>"This note," said Edward, speaking rapidly in French; "has it been long +here?"</p> + +<p>"Since yesterday. I sent it back, and they returned it. Monsieur is not +disappointed, I trust." Edward shook his head and was seeking his hat +and gloves.</p> + +<p>"You recall my old friend, the maestro, who gave me the violin," he +said, remembering Mary. "The note says he is very ill. It was sent +yesterday. Make my excuses to your mother; I will not stay long. If I do +not see you here, I will seek you over yonder in the park, where the +band may be playing shortly; and then we will find a supper."</p> + +<p>Walking rapidly to a cab stand he selected one with a promising horse, +and gave directions. He was carried at a rapid rate into the region of +the Quartier Latin and in a few moments found the maestro's home.</p> + +<p>One or two persons were by him when he entered the room, and they turned +and looked curiously. "Edward!" exclaimed the old man, lifting his +sightless eyes toward the door; "there is but one who steps like that!"</p> + +<p>Edward approached and took his hand. The sick man was sitting in his +arm-chair, wrapped in his faded dressing-gown. "My friends," he +continued, lifting his hand with a slight gesture of dismissal, "you +have been kind to Benoni; God will reward you; farewell!"</p> + +<p>The friends, one a woman of the neighborhood, the other the wife of the +concierge, came and touched his hand, and, bowing to Edward, withdrew, +lifting their white aprons to their faces as they passed from the room.</p> + +<p>"You are very ill," said Edward, placing his hand upon the old man's +arm; "I have just returned to Paris and came at once."</p> + +<p>"Very ill, indeed." He leaned back his head wearily. "It will soon be +over."</p> + +<p>"Have you no friends who should know of this, good Benoni; no relatives? +You have been silent upon this subject, and I have never questioned you. +I will bring them if you will let me." Benoni shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Never. I am to them already dead." A fit of coughing seized him, and he +became greatly exhausted. Upon the table was a small bottle containing +wine, left by one of the women. Edward poured out a draught and placed +it to the bloodless lips.</p> + +<p>"One is my wife," said the dying man, with sudden energy, "my own wife."</p> + +<p>"I will answer that she comes; she cannot refuse."</p> + +<p>"Refuse? No, indeed! She has been searching for me for a lifetime. Many +times she has looked upon me without recognition. She would come; she +has been here—she has been here!"</p> + +<p>"And did not know you? It is possible?"</p> + +<p>"She did not know."</p> + +<p>"You told her, though?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You never told her—" There was a pause. The sick man said, gasping:</p> + +<p>"I am a convict!" A cry of horror broke from the lips of the young man. +The old violinist resented his sudden start and exclamation. "But a +convict innocent. I swear it before my Maker!" Edward was deeply +touched.</p> + +<p>"None can doubt that who knows you, Benoni."</p> + +<p>"He threatened my life; he struck at me with his knife; I turned it on +him, and he fell dead. I did what I could; I was stanching the wound +when they seized me. His ring jewel had cut my face; but for that I +would have been executed. I had no friends, even my name was not my own. +I went to prison and labor for twenty years."</p> + +<p>He named the length of his sentence in a whisper. It was a horror he +could never understand. He stretched out his hand. "Wine." Again Edward +restored something of the fleeting strength.</p> + +<p>"She came," he said, "searching for me. I was blind then; they had been +careless with their blasting—my eyes were gone, my hair white, my face +scarred. She did not know me. Her voice was divine! Her name has been in +the mouths of all men. She came and sang at Christmas, to the prisoners, +the glorious hymns of her church, and she sang to me. It was a song that +none there knew but me—my song! Had she watched my face, then, she +would have known; but how could she suspect me, the blind, the scarred, +the gray? She passed out forever. And I, harmless, helpless, soon +followed—pardoned. I knew her name; I made my way to Paris to be near +that voice; and the years passed; I was poor and blind. It cost money to +hear her."</p> + +<p>Trembling with emotion, Edward whispered: "Her name?" Benoni shook his +head and slowly extended his withered arms. The woolen wristlets had +been removed, there were the white scars, the marks of the convict's +long-worn irons.</p> + +<p>"I have forgiven her; I will not bring her disgrace."</p> + +<p>"Cambia?" said Edward, unconsciously. There was a loud cry; the old man +half-rose and sank back, baffled by his weakness.</p> + +<p>"Hush! Hush!" he gasped; "it is my secret; swear to me you will keep it; +swear to me, swear!"</p> + +<p>"I swear it, Benoni, I swear it." The old man seemed to have fallen +asleep; it was a stupor.</p> + +<p>"She came," he said, "years ago and offered me gold. It was to be the +last effort of her life. She could not believe but that her husband was +in Paris and might be found. She believed the song would find him. I had +been suggested to her because my music and figure were known to all the +boulevards. I was blind and could never know her. But I knew her voice.</p> + +<p>"She went, veiled to avoid recognition; she stood by me at a certain +place on the boulevard where people gather in the evening and sang. What +a song. The streets were blocked, and men, I am told, uncovered before +the sacred purity of that voice, and when all were there who could hear +she sang our song; while I, weeping, played the accompaniment, ay, as no +man living or dead could have played it. Always in the lines—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oceans may roll between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy home and thee."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>—her voice gave way. They called it art.</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought, one day I will tell; it was always the next day, but I +knew, as she sang, in her mind must have arisen the picture of that +husband standing by her side—ah, my God, I could not, I could not; +blind, scarred, a felon, I could not; I was dead! It was bitter!</p> + +<p>"And then she came to me and said: 'Good Benoni, your heart is true and +tender; I thank you; I have wealth and plenty; here is gold, take it in +memory of a broken heart you have soothed.' I said:</p> + +<p>"'The voice of that woman, her song, are better than gold. I have them.' +I went and stood in the door as she, weeping, passed out. She lifted her +veil and touched the forehead of the old musician with her lips, and +then—I hardly knew! I was lying on the floor when Annette came to bring +my tea."</p> + +<p>For a long time he sat without motion after this recital. Edward +loosened the faded cords of his gown. The old man spoke again in a +whisper:</p> + +<p>"Come closer; there is another secret. I knew then that I had never +before loved her. My marriage had been an outrage of heart-faith. I +mistook admiration, sympathy, memory, for love. I was swept from my feet +by her devotion, but it is true—as God is my judge, I never loved her +until then—until her sad, ruined life spoke to me in that song on the +streets of Paris." Edward still held his hand.</p> + +<p>"Benoni," he said, simply, "there is no guilt upon your soul to have +deserved the convict's irons. Believe me, it is better to send for her +and let her come to you. Think of the long years she has searched; of +the long years of uncertainty that must follow. You cannot, you cannot +pass away without paying the debt; it was your fault in the +beginning——"</p> + +<p>The old man had gradually lifted his head; now he bowed it. "Then you +owe her the admission. Oh, believe me, you are wrong if you think the +scars of misfortune can shame away love. You do not know a true woman's +heart. You have not much time, I fear; let me send for her." There was +no reply. He knelt and took one withered hand in his. "Benoni, I plead +for you as for her. There will come a last moment—you will relent; and +then it will be too late."</p> + +<p>"Send!" It was a whisper. The lips moved again; it was an address. Upon +a card Edward wrote hurriedly:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The blind musician who once played for you is dying. He has +the secret of your life. If you would see your husband alive +lose no minute.</p> + +<p>"A Friend."</p></blockquote> + +<p>He dashed from the room and ran rapidly to a cab stand.</p> + +<p>"Take this," he said, "bring an answer in thirty minutes, and get 100 +francs. If the police interfere, say a dying man waits for his friend."</p> + +<p>The driver lashed his horses, and was lashing them as he faded into the +distance.</p> + +<p>Edward returned; he called for hot water and bathed the dying man's +feet; he rubbed his limbs and poured brandy down his throat. He laid his +watch upon the little table; five, ten, fifteen, twenty, five—would she +never come?</p> + +<p>Death had already entered; he was hovering over the doomed man.</p> + +<p>The door opened; a tall woman of sad but noble countenance stepped in, +thrusting back her veil. Edward was kneeling by Benoni's side. Cambia's +eyes were fastened upon the face of the dying man.</p> + +<p>Edward passed out, leaving them alone. A name escaped her.</p> + +<p>"Gaspard."</p> + +<p>Slowly, leaning upon the arm of his chair, the old man arose and +listened.</p> + +<p>"It was a voice from the past," he said, clearly. "Who calls Gaspard +Levigne?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, God in heaven!" she moaned, dropping to her knees. "Is it true? +What do you know of Gaspard Levigne?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing that is good; but I am he, Marie!" The woman rushed to his +side; she touched his face and smoothed the disordered hair. She held +his hand after he had sunk into his chair.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, in God's name," she said. "Tell me where are the proofs of our +marriage? Oh, Gaspard, for my sake, for the sake of your posterity! You +are dying; do not deny me!"</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, in a whisper. "I did not know—there—was—another—I did +not know. The woman—she wrote that it died!" He rose again to his feet, +animated by a thought that gave him new strength. Turning his face +toward her in horror, he said:</p> + +<p>"It is for you that you search, then—not for me!"</p> + +<p>"Speak, Gaspard, my husband, for my sake, for the sake of your Marie, +who loved and loves you, speak!" His lips moved. She placed her ear to +them:</p> + +<p>"Dear heaven," she cried in despair. "I cannot hear him! I cannot hear +him! Gaspard! Gaspard! Gaspard! Ah——" The appeal ended in a shriek. +She was staring into his glazing eyes. Then over the man's face came a +change. Peace settled there. The eyes closed and he whispered: "Freda!"</p> + +<p>Hearing her frantic grief, Edward rushed in and now stood looking down +in deep distress upon the scene.</p> + +<p>"He is dead, madame," he said, simply. "Let me see you to your home." +She arose, white and calm, by a mighty effort.</p> + +<p>"What was he to you? Who are you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He was my friend and master." He laid his hands lovingly on the eyes, +closing them. "I am Edward Morgan!" Her eyes never left him. There was +no motion of her tall figure; only her hand upon the veil closed tightly +and her features twitched. They stood in silence but a moment; it was +broken by Cambia. She had regained something of the bearing of the +dramatic soprano. With a simple dignity she said:</p> + +<p>"Sir, you have witnessed a painful scene. On the honor of a gentleman +give me your pledge to secrecy. There are tragedies in all lives; chance +has laid bare to you the youth of Cambia." He pointed downward to where +the still form lay between them.</p> + +<p>"Above the body of your husband—my friend—I swear to you that your +secret is safe."</p> + +<p>"I thank you."</p> + +<p>She looked a moment upon the form of the sleeper, and then her eyes +searched the face of the young man. "Will you leave me alone with him a +few moments?" He bowed and again withdrew into the little hall.</p> + +<p>When he was gone she knelt above the figure a long time in prayer, and +then, looking for the last time upon the dead face, sadly withdrew. The +young man took her to the carriage. A policeman was guarding it.</p> + +<p>"The driver broke the regulation by my orders," Edward said; "he was +bringing this lady to the bedside of a dying friend. Here is enough to +pay his fine." He gave a few napoleons to the cabman and his card on +which he placed his address.</p> + +<p>"Adieu, madame. I will arrange everything, and if you will attend the +funeral I will notify you."</p> + +<p>"I will attend," said Cambia; "I thank you. Adieu."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE HEART OF CAMBIA.</h3> + + +<p>It was a simple burial. Edward sent a carriage for Cambia, one for the +concierge and his wife, and in the other he brought Mrs. Montjoy and +Mary, to whom he had related a part of the history of Benoni, as he +still called him. Out in Pere la Chaise they laid away the body of the +old master, placed on it their flowers and the beautiful wreath that +Cambia brought, and were ready to return.</p> + +<p>As they approached their carriage, Edward introduced the ladies, to whom +he had already told of Cambia's career.</p> + +<p>They looked with sympathetic pleasure upon the great singer and were +touched by her interest in and devotion to the old musician, "whom she +had known in happier days."</p> + +<p>Cambia studied their faces long and thoughtfully and promised to call +upon them. They parted to meet again.</p> + +<p>When Edward went to make an engagement for Mrs. Montjoy with Moreau, the +great authority on the eye, he was informed that the specialist had been +called to Russia for professional services in the family of the Czar, +and would not return before a date then a week off. The ladies accepted +the delay philosophically. It would give them time to see something of +Paris.</p> + +<p>And see it they did. To Edward it was familiar in every feature. He took +them to all the art centers, the historical points, the great cathedral, +the environments of Malmaison and Versailles, to the promenades, the +palaces and the theaters. This last feature was the delight of both. For +the dramatic art in all its perfection both betrayed a keen relish, and +just then Paris was at its gayest. They were never jostled, harassed, +nor disappointed. They were in the hands of an accomplished +cosmopolitan.</p> + +<p>To Mary the scenes were full of never-ending delight. The mother had +breathed the same atmosphere before, but to Mary all was novel and +beautiful.</p> + +<p>Throughout all Edward maintained the sad, quiet dignity peculiar to him, +illumined at times by flashes of life, as he saw and gloried in the +happiness of the girl at his side.</p> + +<p>Then came Cambia! Mary had gone out with Edward, for a walk, and Mrs. +Montjoy was knitting in the parlor in silent reverie when a card was +brought in, and almost immediately the sad, beautiful face of the singer +appeared in the door.</p> + +<p>"Do not arise, madame," she said, quickly, coming forward upon seeing +the elderly lady beginning to put aside her knitting, "nor cease your +work. I ask that you let me forget we are almost strangers and will sit +here by your side. You have not seen Moreau yet?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Montjoy, releasing the white hand that had clasped hers; +"he is to return to-day."</p> + +<p>"Then he will soon relieve your anxiety. With Moreau everything is +possible."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I hope your trust is not misplaced; success will lift a great +weight from my family." Cambia was silent, thinking; then she arose and, +sinking upon the little footstool, laid her arms upon the knees of her +hostess, and with tearful eyes raised to her face she said:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Montjoy, do you not know me? Have I indeed changed so much?"</p> + +<p>The needles ceased to contend and the work slipped from the smooth +little hands. A frightened look overspread the gentle face.</p> + +<p>"Who is it speaks? Sometime I must have known that voice."</p> + +<p>"It is Marion Evan." The visitor bent her head upon her own arms and +gave way to her emotion. Mrs. Montjoy had repeated the name +unconsciously and was silent. But presently, feeling the figure bent +before her struggling in the grasp of its emotion, she placed both hands +upon the shapely head and gently stroked its beautiful hair, now lined +with silver.</p> + +<p>"You have suffered," she said simply. "Why did you leave us? Why have +you been silent all these years?"</p> + +<p>"For my father's sake. They have thought me cold, heartless, abandoned. +I have crucified my heart to save his." She spoke with vehement passion.</p> + +<p>"Hush, my child," said the elder lady; "you must calm yourself. Tell me +all; let me help you. You used to tell me all your troubles and I used +to call you daughter in the old times. Do you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame, if I did not I would not be here now. Indeed you were +always kind and good to Marion."</p> + +<p>And so, living over the old days, they came to learn again each other's +heart and find how little time and the incidents of life had changed +them. And sitting there beneath the sympathetic touch and eyes of her +lifetime friend, Cambia told her story.</p> + +<p>"I was not quite 17, madame, you remember, when it happened. How, I do +not know; but I thought then I must have been born for Gaspard Levigne. +From the moment I saw him, the violin instructor in our institution, I +loved him. His voice, his music, his presence, without effort of his, +deprived me of any resisting power; I did not seek to resist. I advanced +in my art until its perfection charmed him. I had often seen him +watching me with a sad and pensive air and he once told me that my face +recalled a very dear friend, long dead. I sang a solo in a concert; he +led the orchestra; I sang to him. The audience thought it was the +debutante watching her director, but it was a girl of 17 singing to the +only man the world held for her. He heard and knew.</p> + +<p>"From that day we loved; before, only I loved. He was more than double +my age, a handsome man, with a divine art; and I—well, they called me +pretty—made him love me. We met at every opportunity, and when +opportunities did not offer we made them, those innocent, happy trysts.</p> + +<p>"Love is blind not only to faults but to all the world. We were +discovered and he was blamed. The great name of the institution might be +compromised—its business suffer. He resigned.</p> + +<p>"Then came the terrible misstep; he asked me to go with him and I +consented. We should have gone home; he was afraid of the legal effects +of marrying a minor, and so we went the other way. Not stopping in New +York we turned northward, away from the revengeful south; from police +surveillance, and somewhere we were married. I heard them call us man +and wife, and then I sank again into my dream.</p> + +<p>"It does not seem possible that I could not have known the name of the +place, but I was no more than a child looking from a car window and +taken out for meals here and there. I had but one thought—my husband.</p> + +<p>"We went to Canada, then abroad. Gaspard had saved considerable money; +his home was in Silesia and thither we went; and that long journey was +the happiest honeymoon a woman could know."</p> + +<p>"I spent mine in Europe wandering from point to point. I understand," +said Mrs. Montjoy, gently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do understand! We reached the home and then my troubles began. +My husband, the restraints of his professional engagement thrown off, +fell a victim to dissipation again. He had left his country to break up +old associations and this habit.</p> + +<p>"His people were high-class but poor. He was Count Levigne. Their pride +was boundless. They disliked me from the beginning. I had frustrated the +plans of the family, whose redemption was to come from Gaspard. Innocent +though I was, and soon demanding the tenderness, the love, the +gentleness which almost every woman receives under like circumstances, I +received only coldness and petty persecution.</p> + +<p>"Soon came want; not the want of mere food, but of clothing and minor +comforts. And Gaspard had changed—he who should have defended me left +me to defend myself. One night came the end. He reproached me—he was +intoxicated—with having ruined his life and his prospects." The speaker +paused. With this scene had come an emotion she could with difficulty +control; but, calm at last, she continued with dignity:</p> + +<p>"The daughter of Gen. Albert Evan could not stand that. I sold my +diamonds, my mother's diamonds, and came away. I had resolved to come +back and work for a living in my own land until peace could be made with +father. At that time I did not know the trouble. I found out, though.</p> + +<p>"Gaspard came to his senses then and followed me. Madame, can you +imagine the sorrow of the coming back? But a few months before I had +gone over the same route the happiest woman in all the to me beautiful +world, and now I was the most miserable; life had lost its beauty!</p> + +<p>"We met again—he had taken a shorter way, and, guessing my limited +knowledge correctly, by watching the shipping register found me. But all +eloquence could not avail then; there had been a revulsion. I no longer +loved him. He would never reform; he would work by fits and starts and +he could not support me. At that time he had but one piece of property +in the world—a magnificent Stradivarius violin. The sale of that would +have brought many thousand francs to spend, but on that one thing he was +unchanging. It had come to him by many generations of musicians. They +transmitted to him their divine art and the vehicle of its expression. A +suggestion of sale threw him into the most violent of passions, so great +was the shock to his artistic nature and family pride. If he had starved +to death that violin would have been found by his side.</p> + +<p>"I believe it was this heroism in his character that touched me at last; +I relented. We went to Paris and Gaspard secured employment. But, alas, +I had not been mistaken. I was soon penniless and practically abandoned. +I had no longer the ability to do what I should have done at first; I +could not go home for want of means."</p> + +<p>"You should have written to us."</p> + +<p>"I would have starved before I would have asked. Had you known, had you +offered, I would have received it. And God sent me a friend, one of His +noblemen—the last in all the world of whom I could ask anything. When +my fortunes were at their lowest ebb John Morgan came back into my +life."</p> + +<p>"John Morgan!"</p> + +<p>"He asked no questions. He simply did all that was necessary. And then +he went to see my father. I had written him, but he had never replied; +he went, as I learned afterward, simply as a man of business and without +sentiment. You can imagine the scene. No other man witnessed it. It was, +he told me, long and stormy.</p> + +<p>"The result was that I would be received at home when I came with proofs +of my marriage.</p> + +<p>"I was greatly relieved at first; I had only to find my husband and get +them. I found him but I did not get them. It happened to be a bad time +to approach him. Then John Morgan tried, and that was unfortunate. In my +despair I had told my husband of that prior engagement. An insane +jealousy now seized him. He thought it was a plot to recover my name and +marry me to Mr. Morgan. He held the key to the situation and swore that +in action for divorce he would testify there had been no marriage!</p> + +<p>"Then we went forward to find the record. We never found it. If years of +search and great expense could have accomplished it, we would have +succeeded. It was, however, a fact; I remember standing before the +officiating officer and recalled my trembling responses, but that was +all. The locality, the section, whether it was the first or second day, +I do not recall. But, as God is my judge, I was married."</p> + +<p>She became passionate. Her companion soothed her again.</p> + +<p>"Go on, my child. I believe you."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you a part of this sad story; I have not been perfectly +open. Some day I will, perhaps, and until that time comes I ask you to +keep my secret, because there are good reasons now for silence; you will +appreciate them when you know. Gaspard was left—our only chance. Mr. +Morgan sought him, I sought him; he would have given him any sum for his +knowledge. Gaspard would have sold it, we thought; want would have made +him sell, but Gaspard had vanished as if death itself had carried him +off.</p> + +<p>"In this search I had always the assistance of Mr. Morgan, and at first +his money defrayed all expense; but shortly afterward he influenced a +leading opera master to give me a chance, and I sang in Paris as Cambia, +for the first time. From that day I was rich, and Marion Evan +disappeared from the world.</p> + +<p>"Informed weekly of home affairs and my dear father, my separation was +lessened of half its terrors. But year after year that unchanging friend +stood by me. The time came when the stern face was the grandest object +on which my eyes could rest. There was no compact between us; if I could +have dissolved the marriage tie I would have accepted him and been +happy. But Cambia could take no chances with herself nor with Gen. Evan! +Divorce could only have been secured by three months' publication of +notice in the papers and if that reached Gaspard his terrible answer +would have been filed and I would have been disgraced.</p> + +<p>"The American war had passed and then came the French war. And still no +news from Gaspard. And one day came John Morgan, with the proposition +that ten years of abandonment gave me liberty, and offered me his +hand—and fortune. But—there were reasons—there were reasons. I could +not. He received my answer and said simply: 'You are right!' After that +we talked no more upon the subject.</p> + +<p>"Clew after clew was exhausted; some led us into a foreign prison. I +sang at Christmas to the convicts. All seemed touched; but none was +overwhelmed; Gaspard was not among them.</p> + +<p>"I sang upon the streets of Paris, disguised; all Paris came to know and +hear the 'veiled singer,' whose voice, it was said, equaled the famous +Cambia's. A blind violinist accompanied me. We managed it skillfully. He +met me at a new place every evening, and we parted at a new place, I +alighting from the cab we always took, at some unfrequented place, and +sending him home. And now, madame, do you still believe in God?"</p> + +<p>"Implicitly."</p> + +<p>"Then tell me why, when, a few days since, I was called by your friend +Mr. Morgan to the bedside of Gaspard Levigne, the old musician, who had +accompanied me on the streets of Paris, why was it that God in His mercy +did not give him breath to enable his lips to answer my pitiful +question; why, if there is a God in heaven, did He not——"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Marion!" The calm, sweet voice of the elder woman rose above the +excitement and anguish of the singer. "Hush, my child; you have trusted +too little in Him! God is great, and good and merciful. I can say it +now; I will say it when His shadows fall upon my eyes as they must some +day."</p> + +<p>Awed and touched, Cambia looked up into the glorified face and was +silent.</p> + +<p>Neither broke that stillness, but as they waited a violent step was +heard without, and a voice:</p> + +<p>"Infamous! Infamous!" Edward rushed into the room, pale and horrified, +his bursting heart finding relief only in such words.</p> + +<p>"What is it, my son—Edward!" Mrs. Montjoy looked upon him +reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"I am accused of the murder of Rita Morgan!" he cried. He did not see +Cambia, who had drawn back from between the two, and was looking in +horror at him as she slowly moved toward the door.</p> + +<p>"You accused, Edward? Impossible! Why, what possible motive——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is devilish!" he exclaimed, as he tore the American paper into +shreds. "Devilish! First I was called her son, and now her murderer. I +murdered her to destroy her evidence, is the charge!" The white face of +Cambia disappeared through the door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> + +<h3>THE MAN WITH THE TORCH.</h3> + + +<p>The startling news had been discussed in all its phases in the little +parlor, Mary taking no part. She sat with averted face listening, but +ever and anon when Edward's indignation became unrestrainable she turned +and looked at him. She did not know that the paper contained a reference +to her.</p> + +<p>The astounding revelation, aside from the accusation, was the wound. +Strange that he had not discovered it. Who could have murdered poor +Rita? Positively the only person on the immediate premises were Virdow, +Evan and Gerald. Virdow was of course out of the question, and the +others were in the room. It was the blow that had driven her head +through the glass. What enemy could the woman have had?</p> + +<p>So far as he was concerned, the charge could amount to nothing; Evan was +in the room with him; the general would surely remember that.</p> + +<p>But the horror, the mortification—he, Edward Morgan, charged with +murder, and the center of a scandal in which the name of Mary Montjoy +was mentioned.</p> + +<p>The passion left him; depressed and sick from reaction he sat alone in +the little parlor, long after the ladies had retired; and then came the +climax. A cablegram reached the house and was handed in to him. It was +signed by Evan and read:</p> + +<p>"You have been indicted. Return."</p> + +<p>"Indicted," and for murder, of course. It gave him no uneasiness, but it +thrust all light and sweetness from life. The dream was over. There +could now be no search for Marion Evan. That must pass, and with it +hope.</p> + +<p>He had builded upon that idea castles whose minarets wore the colors of +sunrise. They had fallen and his life lay among the ruins.</p> + +<p>He threw himself upon the bed to sleep, but the gray of dawn was already +over the city; there came a rumbling vehicle in the street; he heard the +sound of a softly closing door—and then he arose and went out. The +early morning air and exercise brought back his physical equipoise. He +returned for breakfast, with a good appetite, and though grave, was +tranquil again.</p> + +<p>Neither of the ladies brought up the painful subject; they went with him +to see the learned oculist and came back silent and oppressed. There was +no hope.</p> + +<p>The diagnosis corresponded with Dr. Campbell's; the blind eye might have +been saved years ago, but an operation would not have been judicious +under the circumstances. Continued sight must depend upon general +health.</p> + +<p>All their pleasures and hopes buried in one brief day, they turned their +backs on Paris and started homeward.</p> + +<p>Edward saw Cambia no more; Mrs. Montjoy called alone and said farewell. +The next day they sailed from Havre.</p> + +<p>In New York Norton met them, grave and embarrassed for once in his life, +and assisted in their hurried departure for the far southern home. There +was no exchange of views between the two men. The paper Norton had sent +was acknowledged; that was all. The subject was too painful for +discussion. And so they arrived in Georgia. They mere met by the Montjoy +carriage at a little station near the city. It was the 11:20 p. m. +train. Gen. Evan was waiting for Edward.</p> + +<p>The handshaking over, they rapidly left the station. Evan had secured +from the sheriff a temporary exemption from arrest for Edward, but it +was understood that he was to remain out of sight.</p> + +<p>They arrived within a couple of miles of the Cedars, having only +broached commonplace subjects, traveling incidents and the like, when a +negro stopped them. In the distance they heard a hound trailing.</p> + +<p>"Boss, kin air one er you gentlemen gi' me a match? I los' my light back +yonder, and hit's too putty er night ter go back without a possum." Evan +drew rein. He was a born sportsman and sympathetic.</p> + +<p>"I reckon so," he said; "and—well, I can't," he concluded, having tried +all pockets. "Mr. Morgan, have you a match?" Edward had one and one +only. He drew all the little articles of his pockets into his hand to +find it.</p> + +<p>"Now, hold," said the general; "let's light our cigars. If it's to be +the last chance." The negro touched the blazing match to splinters of +lightwood, as the southern pitch pine is called when dry, and instantly +he stood in a circle of light, his features revealed in every detail. +Edward gazed into it curiously. Where had he seen that face? It came +back like the lines of some unpleasant dream—the thick lips, the flat +nose, the retreating forehead, full eyes and heavy eyelids, and over all +a look of infinite stupidity. The negro had fixed his eyes a moment upon +the articles in Edward's hand and stepped back quickly. But he recovered +himself and with clumsy thanks, holding up his flaming torch, went away, +leaving only the uncertain shadows dancing across the road.</p> + +<p>At home Gen. Evan threw aside all reserve. He drew their chairs up into +the sheltered corner of the porch.</p> + +<p>"I have some matters to talk over," he said, "and our time is short. +Yours is not a bailable case and we must have a speedy trial. The law +winks at your freedom to-night; it will not do to compromise our friends +in the court house by unnecessary delay. Edward, where was I when you +discovered the body of the woman, Rita Morgan?" Edward looked through +the darkness at his friend, who was gazing straight ahead.</p> + +<p>"You were standing by Gerald's bed, looking upon him."</p> + +<p>"How did you discover her? It never occurred to me to ask; were you not +in the room also?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly was. She broke the glass by pressing against it, as I +thought at the time, but now I see she was struck. I rushed out and +picked her up, and you came when I called."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. And you both talked loudly out there."</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because," said Evan, slowly, "therein lies the defect in our defense. I +cannot swear you were in the room upon my own knowledge. I had been +astounded by the likeness of Gerald to those who had been dear to me—I +was absorbed. Then I heard you cry out, and found you in the yard." +There was a long pause. Edward's heart began to beat with sledge-hammer +violence.</p> + +<p>"Then," he said with a strange voice, "as the case would be presented, I +was found with the body of the woman; she had been murdered and I was +the only one who had a motive. Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"That is it." The young man arose and walked the porch in silence.</p> + +<p>"But that is not all," said Gen. Evan. "If it were, I would have cabled +you to go east from Paris. There is more. Is there any one on earth who +could be interested in your disgrace or death?"</p> + +<p>"None that I know of—that is, well, no; none that I know of. You +remember Royson; we fought that out. He cannot cherish enmity against a +man who fought him in an open field."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are mistaken."</p> + +<p>"From what do you speak?"</p> + +<p>"You had been in Paris but a few days when one night as I sat here your +friend Barksdale—great man that Barksdale; a trifle heady and +confident, but true as steel—Barksdale came flying on his sorrel up the +avenue and landed here.</p> + +<p>"'General,' said he, 'I have discovered the most damnable plot that a +man ever faced. All this scandal about Morgan is not newspaper sensation +as you suppose, it is the first step in a great tragedy.' And then he +went on to tell me that Gerald had invaded his room and shown him +pictures of an open grave, the face of a dead woman and also the face of +the man who opened that grave, drawn with every detail perfect. Gerald +declared that he witnessed the disinterment and drew the scene from +memory——"</p> + +<p>"Hold a minute," said Edward; he was now on his feet, his hand uplifted +to begin a statement; "and then—and then——"</p> + +<p>"The object of that disinterment was to inflict the false wound and +charge you with murder."</p> + +<p>"And the man who did it—who made that wound—was the man who begged a +match from us on the road. I will swear it, if art is true. I have seen +the picture." Evan paused a moment to take in the vital fact. Then there +rung out from him a half-shout:</p> + +<p>"Thank God! Thank God!" The chairs that stood between him and the door +were simply hurled out of the way. His stentorian voice called for his +factotum. "John!" and John did not wait to dress, but came.</p> + +<p>"Get my horse and a mule saddled and bring that puppy Carlo. Quick, +John, quick!" John fled toward the stable. "Edward, we win if we get +that negro—we win!" he exclaimed, coming back through the wreck of his +furniture.</p> + +<p>"But why should the negro have disinterred the body and have made a +wound upon her head? There can be no motive."</p> + +<p>"Heavens, man, no motive! Do you know that you have come between two men +and Mary Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"I have never suspected it, even."</p> + +<p>"Two have sought her with all the energy of manhood," said Evan. "Two +men as different as the east from the west. Royson hates you and will +leave no stone unturned to effect your ruin; Barksdale loves her and +will leave no stone unturned to protect her happiness! There you have it +all. Only one man in the world could have put that black devil up to his +infamous deed—and that man is Royson. Only one man in the world could +have grasped the situation and have read the riddle correctly—and that +man is Barksdale." Edward was dazed. Gradually the depth and villainy of +the conspiracy grew clear.</p> + +<p>"But to prove it——"</p> + +<p>"The negro."</p> + +<p>"Will he testify?"</p> + +<p>"Will he? If I get my hands on him, young man, he will testify! Or he +will hang by the neck from a limb as his possum hangs by the tail."</p> + +<p>"You propose to capture him?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to capture him." He disappeared in the house and when he +came out he had on his army belt, with sword and pistol. The mounts were +at the door and for the first time in his life Edward was astride a +mule. To his surprise the animal bounded along after the gray horse, +with a smooth and even gait, and kept up without difficulty.</p> + +<p>Evan rode as a cavalryman and carried across his saddle the puppy. With +unerring skill he halted at the exact spot where the match had been +struck, and lowered the dog gently to the ground. The intelligent, +excited animal at once took up the trail of man or dogs, and opening +loudly glided into the darkness. They followed.</p> + +<p>Several miles had been covered, when they saw in the distance a glimmer +of light among the trees and Evan drew rein.</p> + +<p>"It will not do," he said, "to ride upon him. At the sound of horses' +feet he will extinguish his light and escape. The dog, he will suppose, +is a stray one led off by his own and will not alarm him." They tied +their animals and pressed on.</p> + +<p>The dog ahead had openel and Carlo's voice could be heard with the rest, +as they trailed the fleeing possum. The general was exhausted. "I can't +do it, Edward, my boy—go on. I will follow as fast as possible." +Without a word Edward obeyed. The dogs were now furious, the man himself +running. In the din and clamor he could hear nothing of pursuit. The +first intimation he had of danger was a grip on his collar and a man's +voice exclaiming excitedly:</p> + +<p>"Halt! You are my prisoner!"</p> + +<p>The torch fell to the ground and lay sputtering. The negro was terrified +for the moment, but his quick eye pierced the gloom and measured his +antagonist. He made a fierce effort to break away, and failing, threw +himself with immense force upon Edward. Then began a frightful struggle. +No word was spoken. The negro was powerful, but the white man was +inspired by a memory and consciousness of his wrongs. They fell and +writhed, and rose and fell again. Slippery Dick had got his hand upon +Edward's throat. Suddenly his grasp relaxed and he lay with the white of +his eyes rolled upward. The muzzle of a cavalry pistol was against his +head and the stern face of the veteran was above him.</p> + +<p>"Get up!" said the general, briefly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, boss," was the reply, and breathless the two men arose.</p> + +<p>The defense had its witness!</p> + +<p>"Ef he had'n conjured me," said the negro doggedly, "he couldn't 'er +done it." He had recognized among the little things that Edward drew +from his pocket on the road the voodoo's charm.</p> + +<p>Edward breathless, took up the torch and looked into Dick's countenance. +"I am not mistaken, general, this is the man."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> + +<h3>WHAT THE SHEET HID.</h3> + + +<p>Slippery Dick was puzzled as well as frightened. He knew Gen. Evan by +sight, and his terror lost some of its wildness; the general was not +likely to be out upon a lynching expedition. But for what was he wanted? +He could not protest until he knew that, and in his past were many dark +deeds, for which somebody was wanted. So he was silent.</p> + +<p>His attention was chiefly directed to Edward; he could not account for +him, nor could he remember to have seen him. Royson had long since +trained him to silence; most men convict themselves while under arrest.</p> + +<p>Evan stood in deep thought, but presently he prepared for action.</p> + +<p>"What is your name, boy?" The negro answered promptly:</p> + +<p>"Dick, sah."</p> + +<p>"Dick who?"</p> + +<p>"Just Dick, sah."</p> + +<p>"Your other name?"</p> + +<p>"Slippery Dick." The general was interested instantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Slippery Dick." The career of the notorious negro was partially +known to him. Dick had been the reporter's friend for many years and in +dull times more than the truth had been told of Slippery Dick. "Well, +this begins to look probable, Edward; I begin to think you may be +right."</p> + +<p>"I am not mistaken, general. If there is a mistake, it is not mine."</p> + +<p>"What dey want me for, Marse Evan? I ain't done nothin'."</p> + +<p>"A house has been broken into, Dick, and you are the man who did it."</p> + +<p>"Who, me? Fo' Gawd, Marse Evan, I ain't broke inter no man's house. It +warn't me—no sah, no sah."</p> + +<p>"We will see about that. Now I will give you your choice, Dick; you can +go with me, Gen. Evan and I will protect you. If the person who accuses +you says you are innocent I will turn you loose; if you are not willing +to go there I will take you to jail; but, willing or unwilling, if you +make a motion to escape, I will put a bullet through you before you can +take three steps."</p> + +<p>"I'll go with you, Marse Evan; I ain't de man. I'll go whar you want me +to go."</p> + +<p>"Get your dogs together and take the road to town. I will show you when +we get there." They went with him to where his dogs, great and small, +were loudly baying at the root of a small persimmon tree. Dick looked up +wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Marse Evan, deir he sots; you don't spect me ter leave dat possum up +dere?" The old man laughed silently.</p> + +<p>"The ruling passion strong in death," he quoted to Edward, and then +sternly to Dick: "Get him and be quick about it." A moment more and they +were on the way to the horses.</p> + +<p>"I had an object," said Evan, "in permitting this. As we pass through +the city we present the appearance of a hunting party. Turn up your coat +collar and turn down your hat to avoid the possibility of recognition."</p> + +<p>They reached the city, passed through the deserted streets, the negro +carrying his 'possum and surrounded by the dogs preceding the riders, +and, without attracting more than the careless notice of a policeman or +two, they reached the limits beyond.</p> + +<p>Still Dick was not suspicious; the road was his own way home; but when +finally he was ordered to turn up the long route to Ilexhurst, he +stopped. This was anticipated; the general spurted his horse almost +against him.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he said, sternly, "or by the Eternal you are a dead man! +Edward, if he makes a break, you have the ex——"</p> + +<p>"Marse Evan, you said breakin' in 'er house." Dick still hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I did; but it was the house of the dead."</p> + +<p>The 'possum came suddenly to the ground, and away went Dick into an open +field, the expectation of a bullet lending speed to his legs. But he was +not in the slightest danger from bullets; he was the last man, almost, +that either of his captors would have slain, nor was it necessary. The +great roan came thundering upon him; he lifted his arm to ward off the +expected blow and looked up terrified. The next instant a hand was on +his coat collar, and he was lifted off his feet. Dragging his prisoner +into the road, Evan held his pistol over his wet forehead, while, with +the rein, Edward lashed his elbows behind his back. The dogs were +fighting over the remains of the unfortunate 'possum. They left them +there.</p> + +<p>The three men arrived at Ilexhurst thoroughly tired; the white men more +so than the negro. Tying their animals, Edward led the way around to the +glass-room, where a light was burning, but to his disappointment on +entering he found no occupant. Slippery Dick was placed in a chair and +the door locked. Evan stood guard over him, while Edward searched the +house. The wing-room was dark and Gerald was not to be found. From the +door of the professor's room came the cadenced breathing of a profound +sleeper. Returning, Edward communicated these facts to his companion. +They discussed the situation.</p> + +<p>Evan, oppressed by the memory of his last two visits to these scenes, +was silent and distrait. The eyes of the negro were moving restlessly +from point to point, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The +scene, the hour, the situation and the memory of that shriveled face in +its coffin all combined to reduce Dick to a state of abject terror. Had +he not been tied he would have plunged through the glass into the night; +the pistol in the hands of the old man standing over him would have been +forgotten.</p> + +<p>What was to be done? Edward went into the wing-room and lighted the +lamps preparatory to making better arrangements for all parties. +Suddenly his eyes fell upon the lounge. Extended upon it was a form +outlined through a sheet that covered it from head to foot. So still, so +immovable and breathless it seemed, he drew back in horror. An +indefinable fear seized him. White, with unexpressed horror, he stood in +the door of the glass-room and beckoned to the general. The silence of +his appearance, the inexpressible terror that shone in his face and +manner, sent a thrill to the old man's heart and set the negro +trembling.</p> + +<p>Driving the negro before him, Evan entered. At sight of the covered form +Dick made a violent effort to break away, but, with nerves now at their +highest tension and muscles drawn responsive, the general successfully +resisted. Enraged at last he stilled his captive by a savage blow with +his weapon.</p> + +<p>Edward now approached the apparition and lifted the cloth. Prepared as +he was for the worst, he could not restrain the cry of horror that rose +to his lips. Before him was the face of Gerald, white with the hue of +death, the long lashes drooped over half-closed eyes, the black hair +drawn back from the white forehead and clustering about his neck and +shoulders. He fell almost fainting against the outstretched arm of his +friend, who, pale and shocked, stood with eyes riveted upon the fatal +beauty of the dead face.</p> + +<p>It was but an instant; then the general was jerked with irresistible +force and fell backward into the room, Edward going nearly prostrate +over him. There was the sound of shattered glass and the negro was gone.</p> + +<p>Stunned and hurt, the old man rose to his feet and rushed to the +glass-room. Then a pain seized him; he drew his bruised limb from the +floor and caught the lintel.</p> + +<p>"Stop that man! Stop that man!" he said in a stentorian voice; "he is +your only witness now!" Edward looked into his face a moment and +comprehended. For the third time that night he plunged into the darkness +after Slippery Dick. But where? Carlo was telling! Down the hill his +shrill voice was breaking the night. Abandoned by the negro's dogs +accustomed to seek their home and that not far away, he had followed the +master's footsteps with unerring instinct and whined about the glass +door. The bursting glass, the fleeing form of a strange negro, were +enough for his excitable nature; he gave voice and took the trail.</p> + +<p>The desperate effort of the negro might have succeeded, but the human +arms were made for many things; when a man stumbles he needs them in the +air and overhead or extended. Slippery Dick went down with a crash in a +mass of blackberry bushes, and when Edward reached him he was kicking +wildly at the excited puppy, prevented from rising by his efforts and +his bonds. The excited and enraged white man dragged him out of the +bushes by his collar and brought reason to her throne by savage kicks. +The prisoner gave up and begged for mercy.</p> + +<p>He was marched back, all breathless, to the general, who had limped to +the gate to meet him.</p> + +<p>Edward was now excited beyond control; he forced the prisoner, shivering +with horror, into the presence of the corpse, and with the axe in hand +confronted him.</p> + +<p>"You infamous villain!" he cried; "tell me here, in the presence of my +dead friend, who it was that put you up to opening the grave of Rita +Morgan and breaking her skull, or I will brain you! You have ten seconds +to speak!" He meant it, and the axe flashed in the air. Gen. Evan caught +the upraised arm.</p> + +<p>"Softly, softly, Edward; this won't do; this won't do! You defeat your +own purpose!" It was timely; the blow might have descended, for the +reckless man was in earnest, and the negro was by this time dumb.</p> + +<p>"Dick," said the general, "I promised to protect you on conditions, and +I will. But you have done this gentleman an injury and endangered his +life. You opened Rita Morgan's grave and broke her skull—an act for +which the law has no adequate punishment; but my young friend here is +desperate. You can save yourself but I cannot save you except over my +dead body. If you refuse I will stand aside, and when I do you are a +dead man." He was during this hurried speech still struggling with the +young man.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell, Marse Evan! Hold 'im. I'll tell!"</p> + +<p>"Who, then?" said Edward, white with his passion; "who was the infamous +villain that paid you for the deed?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Royson, Mr. Royson, he hired me." The men looked at each other. A +revulsion came over Edward; a horror, a hatred of the human race, of +anything that bore the shape of man—but no; the kind, sad face of the +old gentleman was beaming in triumph upon him.</p> + +<p>And then from somewhere into the scene came the half-dressed form of +Virdow, his face careworn and weary, amazed and alarmed.</p> + +<p>Virdow wrote the confession in all its details, and the general +witnessed the rude cross made by the trembling hand of the negro. And +then they stood sorrowful and silent before the still, dead face of +Gerald Morgan!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> + +<h3>ON THE MARGINS OF TWO WORLDS.</h3> + + +<p>The discovery of Gerald's death necessitated a change of plans. The +concealment of Slippery Dick and Edward must necessarily be accomplished +at Ilexhurst. There were funeral arrangements to be made, the property +cared for and Virdow to be rescued from his solitary and embarrassing +position. Moreover, the gray dawn was on ere the confession was written, +and Virdow had briefly explained the circumstances of Gerald's death. +Exhausted by excitement and anxiety and the depression of grief, he went +to his room and brought Edward a sealed packet which had been written +and addressed to him during the early hours of the night.</p> + +<p>"You will find it all there," he said; "I cannot talk upon it." He went +a moment to look upon the face of his friend and then, with a single +pathetic gesture, turned and left them.</p> + +<p>One of the eccentricities of the former owner of Ilexhurst had been a +granite smoke-house, not only burglar and fireproof but cyclone proof, +and with its oaken door it constituted a formidable jail.</p> + +<p>With food and water, Dick, freed of his bonds, was ushered into this +building, the small vents in the high roof affording enough light for +most purposes. A messenger was then dispatched for Barksdale and Edward +locked himself away from sight of chance callers in his upper room. The +general, thoughtful and weary, sat by the dead man.</p> + +<p>The document that Virdow had prepared was written in German. "When your +eye reads these lines, you will be grieved beyond endurance; Gerald is +no more! He was killed to-night by a flash of lightning and his death +was instantaneous. I am alone, heartbroken and utterly wretched. +Innocent of any responsibility in this horrible tragedy I was yet the +cause, since it was while submitting to some experiments of mine that he +received his death stroke. I myself received a frightful electric shock, +but it now amounts to nothing. I would to God that I and not he had +received the full force of the discharge. He might have been of vast +service to science, but my work is little and now well-nigh finished.</p> + +<p>"Gerald was kneeling under a steel disk, in the glass-room, you will +remember where we began our sound experiments, and I did not know that +the steel wire which suspended it ran up and ended near a metal strip, +along the ridge beam of the room. We had just begun our investigation, +when the flash descended and he fell dead.</p> + +<p>"At this writing I am here under peculiar circumstances; the butler who +came to my call when I recovered consciousness assisted me in the +attempt at resuscitation of Gerald, but without any measure of success. +He then succeeded in getting one or two of the old negroes and a doctor. +The latter declared life extinct. There was no disfigurement—only a +black spot in the crown of the head and a dark line down the spine, +where the electric fluid had passed. That was all."</p> + +<p>Edward ceased to read; his chin sank upon his breast and the lines +slipped from his unfocused eyes. The dark line down the spine! His heart +leaped fiercely and he lifted his face with a new light in his eyes. For +a moment it was radiant; then shame bowed his head again. He laid aside +the paper and gave himself up to thought, from time to time pacing the +room. In these words lay emancipation. He resumed the reading:</p> + +<p>"We arranged the body on the lounge and determined to wait until morning +to send for the coroner and undertaker, but one by one your negroes +disappeared. They could not seem to withstand their superstition, the +butler told me, and as there was nothing to be done I did not worry. I +came here to the library to write, and when I returned, the butler, too, +was gone. They are a strange people. I suppose I will see none of them +until morning, but it does not matter; my poor friend is far beyond the +reach of attention. His rare mind has become a part of cosmos; its +relative situation is our mystery.</p> + +<p>"I will, now, before giving you a minute description of our last evening +together, commit for your eye my conclusions as to some of the phenomena +and facts you have observed. I am satisfied as far as Gerald's origin is +concerned, that he is either the son of the woman Rita or that they are +in some way connected by ties of blood. In either case the similarity of +their profiles would be accounted for. No matter how remote the +connection, nothing is so common as this reappearance of tribal features +in families. The woman, you told me, claimed him as her child, but +silently waived that claim for his sake. I say to you that a mother's +instinct is based upon something deeper than mere fancy, and that +intuitions are so nearly correct that I class them as the nearest +approach to mind memory to be observed.</p> + +<p>"The likeness of his full face to the picture of the girl you call +Marion Evan may be the result of influences exerted at birth. Do you +remember the fragmentary manuscript? If that is a history, I am of the +opinion that it is explanation enough. At any rate, the profile is a +stronger evidence the other way.</p> + +<p>"The reproduction of the storm scene is one of the most remarkable +incidents I have ever known, but it is not proof that he inherited it as +a memory. It is a picture forcibly projected upon his imagination by the +author of the fragment—and in my opinion he had read that fragment. It +came to him as a revelation, completing the gap. I am sure that from the +day that he read it he was for long periods convinced that he was the +son of Rita Morgan; that she had not lied to him. In this I am confirmed +by the fact that as she lay dead he bent above her face and called her +'mother'. I am just as well assured that he had no memory of the origin +of that picture; no memory, in fact, of having read the paper. This may +seem strange to you, but any one who has had the care of victims of +opium will accept the proposition as likely.</p> + +<p>"The drawing of the woman's face was simple. His hope had been to find +himself the son of Marion Evan; his dreams were full of her. He had seen +the little picture; his work was an idealized copy, but it must be +admitted a marvelous work. Still the powers of concentration in this man +exceeded the powers of any one I have ever met.</p> + +<p>"And that brings me to what was the most wonderful demonstration he gave +us. Edward, I have divined your secret, although you have never told it. +When you went to secure for me the note of the waterfall, the home note, +you were accompanied by your friend Mary. I will stake my reputation +upon it. It is true because it is obliged to be true. When you played +for us you had her in your mind, a vivid picture, and Gerald drew it. It +was a case of pure thought transference—a transference of a mental +conception, line for line. Gerald received his conception from you upon +the vibrating air. To me it was a demonstration worth my whole journey +to America.</p> + +<p>"And here let me add, as another proof of the sympathetic chord between +you, that Gerald himself had learned to love the same woman. You gave +him that, my young friend, with the picture.</p> + +<p>"You have by this time been made acquainted with the terrible accusation +against you—false and infamous. There will be little trouble in +clearing yourself, but oh, what agony to your sensitive nature! I tried +to keep the matter from Gerald, as I did the inquest by keeping him busy +with investigations; but a paper fell into his hands and his excitement +was frightful. Evading me he disappeared from the premises one evening, +but while I was searching for him he came to the house in a carriage, +bringing the picture of that repulsive negro, which you will remember. +Since then he has been more calm. Mr. Barksdale, your friend, I suppose, +was with him once or twice.</p> + +<p>"And now I come to this, the last night of our association upon earth; +the night that has parted us and rolled between us the mystery across +which our voices cannot reach nor our ears hear.</p> + +<p>"Gerald had long since been satisfied with the ability of living +substance to hold a photograph, and convinced that these photographs lie +dormant, so to speak, somewhere in our consciousness until awakened +again—that is, until made vivid. He was proceeding carefully toward the +proposition that a complete memory could be inherited, and in the second +generation or even further removed; you know his theory. There were +intermediate propositions that needed confirmation. When forms and +scenes come to the mind of the author, pure harmonies of color to that +of the artist, sweet co-ordinations of harmonies to the musician, whence +come they? Where is the thread of connection? Most men locate the seat +of their consciousness at the top of the head; they seem to think in +that spot. And strange, is it not, that when life passes out and all the +beautiful structure of the body claimed by the frost of death, that heat +lingers longest at that point! It is material in this letter, because +explaining Gerald's idea. He wished me to subject him to the finest +vibrations at that point.</p> + +<p>"The experiment was made with a new apparatus, which had been hung in +place of the first in the glass-room; or, rather, to this we made an +addition. A thin steel plate was fixed to the floor, directly under the +wire and elevated upon a small steel rod. Gerald insisted that as the +drum and membrane I used made the shapes we secured a new experiment +should be tried, with simple vibrations. So we hung in its place a steel +disk with a small projection from the center underneath. Kneeling upon +the lower disk Gerald was between two plates subject to the finest +vibration, his sensitive body the connection. There was left a gap of +one inch between his head and the projection under the upper disk and we +were to try first with the gap closed, and then with it opened.</p> + +<p>"You know how excitable he was. When he took his position he was white +and his large eyes flashed fire. His face settled into that peculiarly +harsh, fierce expression, for which I have never accounted except upon +the supposition of nervous agony. The handle to his violin had been +wrapped with fine steel wire, and this, extending a yard outward, was +bent into a tiny hook, intended to be clasped around the suspended wire +that it might convey to it the full vibrations from the sounding board +of the instrument. I made this connection, and, with the violin against +my ear, prepared to strike the 'A' note in the higher octave, which if +the vibrations were fine enough should suggest in his mind the figure of +a daisy.</p> + +<p>"Gerald, his eyes closed, remained motionless in his kneeling posture. +Suddenly a faint flash of light descended into the room and the thunder +rolled. And I, standing entranced by the beauty and splendor of that +face, lost all thought of the common laws of physics. A look of rapture +had suffused it, his eyes now looked out upon some vision, and a tender +smile perfected the exquisite curve of his lips. There was no need of +violin outside, the world was full of the fine quiverings of +electricity, the earth's invisible envelope was full of vibrations! +Nature was speaking a language of its own. What that mind saw between +the glories of this and the other life as it trembled on the margins of +both, is not given to me to know; but a vision had come to him—of what?</p> + +<p>"Ah, Edward, how different the awakening for him and me! I remember that +for a moment I seemed to float in a sea of flame; there was a shock like +unto nothing I had ever dreamed, and lying near me upon the floor, his +mortal face startled out of its beautiful expression, lay Gerald—dead!"</p> + +<p>The conclusion of the letter covered the proposed arrangements for +interment. Edward had little time to reflect upon the strange document. +The voice of Gen. Evan was heard calling at the foot of the stair. +Looking down he saw standing by him the straight, manly figure of +Barksdale. The hour of dreams had ended; the hour of action had arrived!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> + +<h3>WAR TO THE KNIFE.</h3> + + +<p>Barksdale heard the events of the night, as detailed by the general, +without apparent emotion. He had gone with them to look upon the remains +of Gerald. He brought from the scene only a graver look in his face, a +more gentle tone in his voice. These, however, soon passed. He was again +the cold, stern, level-headed man of affairs, listening to a strange +story. He lost no detail and his quick, trained mind gave the matter its +true position.</p> + +<p>The death of Gerald was peculiarly unfortunate for Edward. They had now +nothing left but the negro, and negro testimony could be bought for +little money. He would undertake to buy just such evidence as Dick had +given, from a dozen men in ten days and the first man he would have +sought was Slippery Dick, and the public would be thrown into doubt as +to Royson by the fact of deadly enmity between the men. To introduce +Dick upon the stand to testify and not support his testimony would be +almost a confession of guilt. The negro was too well known. Gerald's +statement would not be admissible, though his picture might. But of what +avail would the picture be without the explanation?</p> + +<p>Barksdale pointed out this clearly but briefly. Gen. Evan was amazed +that such a situation had not already presented itself. The court case +would have been Dick's word against Royson's; the result would have been +doubtful. The least that could be hoped for, if the State made out a +case against Edward, was imprisonment.</p> + +<p>But there was more; a simple escape was not sufficient; Edward must not +only escape but also show the conspiracy and put it where it belonged. +He, Barksdale, had no doubt upon that point. Royson was the guilty man.</p> + +<p>This analysis of the situation, leaving as it did the whole matter open +again, and the result doubtful, filled Evan with anxiety and vexation.</p> + +<p>"I thought," said he, walking the floor, "that we had everything fixed; +that the only thing necessary would be to hold to the negro and bring +him in at the right time. If he died or got away we had his confession +witnessed." Barksdale smiled and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It is of the utmost importance," he said, "to hold the negro and bring +him in at the right time, but in my opinion it is vital to the case that +the negro be kept from communicating with Royson, and that the fact of +his arrest be concealed. Where have you got him?"</p> + +<p>"In the stone smoke-house," said Edward.</p> + +<p>"Tied."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Barksdale, arising at once, "if not too late you must tie +him. There is no smoke-house in existence and no jail in this section +that can hold Slippery Dick if his hands are free." Thoroughly alarmed, +Gen. Evan led the way and Edward followed. Barksdale waved the latter +back.</p> + +<p>"Don't risk being seen; we can attend to this." They opened the door and +looked about the dim interior; it was empty. With a cry the general +rushed in.</p> + +<p>"He is gone!" Barksdale stood at the door; the building was a square +one, with racks overhead for hanging meat. There was not the slightest +chance of concealment. A mound of earth in one corner aroused his +suspicions. He went to it, found a burrow and, running his arm into +this, he laid hold of a human leg.</p> + +<p>"Just in time, General, he is here!" With a powerful effort he drew the +negro into the light. In one hour more he would have been under the +foundations and gone. Dick rose and glanced at the open door as he +brushed the dirt from his eyes, but there was a grip of steel upon his +collar, and a look in the face before him that suggested the uselessness +of resistance. The general recovered the strap and bound the elbows as +before.</p> + +<p>"I will bring up shackles," said Barksdale, briefly. "In the meantime, +this will answer. But you know the stake! Discharge the house servant, +and I will send a man of my own selection. In the meantime look in here +occasionally." They returned to the house and into the library, where +they found Edward and informed him of the arrangements.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Barksdale, "this is the result of my efforts in another +direction. The publication of libelous article is almost impossible, +with absolute secrecy as to the authorship. A good detective, with time +and money, can unravel the mystery and fix the responsibility upon the +guilty party. I went into this because Mr. Morgan was away, and the +circumstances were such that he could not act in the simplest manner if +he found the secret." He had drawn from his pocket a number of papers, +and to these, as he proceeded, he from time to time referred.</p> + +<p>"We got our first clew by purchase. Sometimes in a newspaper office +there is a man who is keen enough to preserve a sheet of manuscript that +he 'set up,' when reflection suggests that it may be of future value. +Briefly, I found such a man and bought this sheet"—lifting it a +moment—"of no value except as to the handwriting.</p> + +<p>"The first step toward discovering the name of the Tell-Tale +correspondent was a matter of difficulty, from the nature of the paper. +There was always in this case the <i>dernier ressort</i>; the editor could be +forced at the point of a pistol. But that was hazardous. The +correspondent's name was discovered in this way. We offered and paid a +person in position to know, for the addresses of all letters from the +paper's office to persons in this city. One man's name was frequently +repeated. We got a specimen of his handwriting and compared it with the +sheet of manuscript; the chirography was identical.</p> + +<p>"A brief examination of the new situation convinced me that the writer +did not act independently; he was a young man not long in the city and +could not have known the facts he wrote of nor have obtained them on his +own account without arousing suspicion. He was being used by another +party—by some one having confidential relations or connections with +certain families, Col. Montjoy's included. I then began to suspect the +guilty party.</p> + +<p>"The situation was now exceedingly delicate and I called into +consultation Mr. Dabney, one of our shrewdest young lawyers, and one, by +the way, Mr. Morgan, I will urge upon you to employ in this defense; in +fact, you will find no other necessary, but by all means hold to him. +The truth is," he added, "I have already retained him for you, but that +does not necessarily bind you."</p> + +<p>"I thank you," said Edward. "We shall retain him."</p> + +<p>"Very good. Now we wanted this young man's information and we did not +wish the man who used him to know that anything was being done or had +been done, and last week, after careful consultation, I acted. I called +in this young fellow and appointed him agent at an important place upon +our road, but remote, making his salary a good one. He jumped at the +chance and I did not give him an hour's time to get ready. He was to go +upon trial, and he went. I let him enjoy the sensation of prosperity for +a week before exploding my mine. Last night I went down and called on +him with our lawyer. We took him to the hotel, locked the door and +terrorized him into a confession, first giving him assurance that no +harm should come to him and that his position would not be affected. He +gave away the whole plot and conspiracy.</p> + +<p>"The man we want is Amos Royson!"</p> + +<p>The old general was out of his chair and jubilant. He was recalled to +the subject by the face of the speaker, now white and cold, fixed upon +him.</p> + +<p>"I did not have evidence enough to convict him of conspiracy, nor would +the evidence help Mr. Morgan's case, standing alone as it did. The +single witness, and he in my employ then, could not have convicted, +although he might have ruined, Royson. I am now working upon the murder +case. I came to the city at daylight and had just arrived home when your +note reached me. My intention was to go straight to Royson's office and +give him an opportunity of writing out his acknowledgement of his infamy +and retraction. If he had refused I would have killed him as surely as +there is a God in heaven."</p> + +<p>Edward held out his hand silently and the men understood each other.</p> + +<p>"Now," continued Barksdale, "the situation has changed. There is +evidence enough to convict Royson of conspiracy, perhaps. We must +consult Dabney, but I am inclined to believe that our course will be to +go to trial ourselves and spring the mine without having aroused +suspicion. When Slippery Dick goes upon the stand he must find Royson +confident and in my opinion he will convict himself in open court, if we +can get him there. The chances are he will be present. The case will +attract a great crowd. He would naturally come. But we shall take no +chances; he will come!</p> + +<p>"Just one thing more now; you perceive the importance, the vital +importance, of secrecy as to your prisoner; under no consideration must +his presence here be known outside. To insure this it seems necessary to +take one trusty man into our employ. Have you considered how we would be +involved if Mr. Morgan should be arrested?"</p> + +<p>"But he will not be. Sheriff——"</p> + +<p>"You forget Royson. He is merciless and alert. If he discovers Mr. +Morgan's presence in this community he will force an arrest. The sheriff +will do all in his power for us, but he is an officer under oath, and +with an eye, of course, to re-election. I would forestall this; I would +let the man who comes to guard Dick guard Mr. Morgan also. In other +words, let him go under arrest and accept a guard in his own house. The +sheriff can act in this upon his own discretion, but the arrest should +be made." Edward and the general were for a moment silent.</p> + +<p>"You are right," said the former. "Let the arrest be made." Barksdale +took his departure.</p> + +<p>The butler appeared and was summarily discharged for having abandoned +Virdow during the night.</p> + +<p>And then came the deputy, a quiet, confident man of few words, who +served the warrant upon Edward, and then, proceeding with his prisoner +to the smoke-house, put shackles upon Slippery Dick, and supplemented +them with handcuffs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2> + +<h3>PREPARING THE MINE.</h3> + + +<p>This time the coroner was summoned. He came, examined the body of +Gerald, heard Virdow's statement and concluded that he could not hold an +inquest without subjecting himself to unpleasant criticism and giving +candidates for his office something to take hold of.</p> + +<p>The funeral was very quiet. Col. Montjoy, Mrs. Montjoy and Mary came in +the old family carriage and the general on horseback.</p> + +<p>The little group stood around the open coffin and gazed for the last +time upon the pale, chaste face. The general could not endure more than +the one glance. As it lay exposed to him, it was the perfect image of a +face that had never dimmed in his memory. Mary's tears fell silently as +she laid her little cross of white autumn rosebuds upon the silent +breast and turned away. Edward was waiting for her; she took his arm and +went upon the portico.</p> + +<p>"It is a sad blow to you, Mr. Morgan," she said.</p> + +<p>"It removes the only claim upon me," was his answer. "When all is over +and this trial ended, I shall very likely return to Europe for good!" +They were silent for a while. "I came here full of hope," he continued; +"I have met distrust, accusation, assaults upon my character and life, +the loss of friends, disappointments and now am accused of murder and +must undergo a public trial. It is enough to satisfy most men with—the +south."</p> + +<p>"And do you count your real friends as nothing?"</p> + +<p>"My real friends are few, but they count for much," he said, earnestly; +"it will be hard to part with them—with you. But fate has laid an iron +hand upon me. I must go." He found her looking at him with something of +wonder upon her face.</p> + +<p>"You know best," she said, quietly. There was something in her manner +that reminded him of the calm dignity of her father.</p> + +<p>"You do not understand me," he said, earnestly, "and I cannot explain, +and yet I will go this far. My parents have left me a mystery to +unfathom; until I have solved it I shall not come back, I cannot come +back." He took her hand in both of his. "It is this that restrains me; +you have been a true friend; it grieves me that I cannot share my +troubles with you and ask your woman's judgment, but I cannot—I cannot! +I only ask that you keep me always in your memory, as you will always be +the brightest spot in mine." She was now pale and deeply affected by his +tone and manner.</p> + +<p>"You cannot tell me, Mr. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Not even you, the woman I love; the only woman I have ever loved. Ah, +what have I said?" She had withdrawn her hand and was looking away. +"Forgive me; I did not know what I was saying. I, a man under indictment +for murder, a possible felon, an unknown!"</p> + +<p>The young girl looked at him fearlessly.</p> + +<p>"You are right. You can rely upon friendship, but under the +circumstances nothing can justify you in speaking of love to a +woman—you do not trust."</p> + +<p>"Do not trust! You cannot mean that!" She had turned away proudly and +would have left him.</p> + +<p>"I have seen so little of women," he said. "Let that be my excuse. I +would trust you with my life, my honor, my happiness—but I shall not +burden you with my troubles. I have everything to offer you but a name. +I have feared to tell you; I have looked to see you turn away in +suspicion and distrust—in horror. I could not. But anything, even that, +is better than reproach and wrong judging.</p> + +<p>"I tell you now that I love you as no woman was ever loved before; that +I have loved you since you first came into my life, and that though we +be parted by half a world of space, and through all eternity, I still +shall love you. But I shall never, so help me heaven, ask the woman I +love to share an unknown's lot! You have my reasons now; it is because I +do love you that I go away." He spoke the words passionately. And then +he found her standing close to his side.</p> + +<p>"And I," she said, looking up into his face through tearful but smiling +eyes, "do not care anything for your name or your doubts, and I tell +you, Edward Morgan, that you shall not go away; you shall not leave me." +He caught his breath and stood looking into her brave face.</p> + +<p>"But your family—it is proud——"</p> + +<p>"It will suffer nothing in pride. We will work out this little mystery +together." She extended her hand and, taking it, he took her also. She +drew back, shaking her head reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"I did not mean that."</p> + +<p>He was about to reply, but at that moment a scene was presented that +filled them both with sudden shame. How true it is that in the midst of +life we are in death.</p> + +<p>The hearse had passed the gate. Silently they entered the house.</p> + +<p>He led her back to the side of the dead man.</p> + +<p>"He loved you," he said slowly. "I shall speak the truth for him." Mary +bent above the white face and left a kiss upon the cold brow.</p> + +<p>"He was your friend," she said, fearing to look into his eye.</p> + +<p>He comprehended and was silent.</p> + +<p>It was soon over. The ritual for the dead, the slow journey to the city +of silence, a few moments about the open grave, the sound of dirt +falling upon the coffin, a prayer—and Gerald, living and dead, was no +longer a part of their lives.</p> + +<p>The Montjoys were to go home from the cemetery. Edward said farewell to +them separately and to Mary last. Strange paradox, this human life. He +came from that new-made grave almost happy.</p> + +<p>The time for action was approaching rapidly. He went with Dabney and the +general to see Slippery Dick for the last time before the trial. There +was now but one serious doubt that suggested itself. They took the man +at night to the grave of Rita and made him go over every detail of his +experience there. Under the influence of the scene he began with the +incident of the voodoo's "conjure bag" and in reply to queries showed +where it had been inserted in the cedar. Edward took his knife and began +to work at the plug, but this action plunged Dick into such terror that +Dabney cautioned Edward in a low voice to desist.</p> + +<p>"Dick," said the young man finally, with sudden decision, "if you fail +us in this matter not only shall I remove that plug but I shall put you +in jail and touch you with the bag." Dick was at once voluble with +promises. Edward, his memory stirred by the incident, was searching his +pockets. He had carried the little charm obtained for him by Mary +because of the tender memories of the night before their journey abroad. +He drew it out now and held it up. Dick had not forgotten it; he drew +back, begging piteously. Dabney was greatly interested.</p> + +<p>"That little charm has proved to be your protector, Mr. Morgan," he said +aloud for the negro's benefit. "You have not been in any danger. Neither +Dick nor anyone else could have harmed you. You should have told me +before. See how it has worked. The woman who gave you the bag came to +you in the night out on the ocean and showed you the face of this man; +you knew him even in the night, although he had never before met you nor +you him."</p> + +<p>A sound like the hiss of a snake came from the negro; he had never been +able to guess why this stranger had known him so quickly. He now gazed +upon his captor with mingled fear and awe.</p> + +<p>"Befo' Gawd, boss," he said, "I ain't goin' back on you, boss!"</p> + +<p>"Going back on him!" said Dabney, laughing. "I should think not. I did +not know that Mr. Morgan had you conjured. Let us return; Dick cannot +escape that woman in this world or the next. Give me the little bag, Mr. +Morgan—no, keep it yourself. As long as you have it you are safe."</p> + +<p>Edward was a prisoner, but in name only. Barksdale had not come again, +for more reasons than one, the main reason being extra precaution on +account of the watchful and suspicious Royson. But he acted quietly upon +the public mind. The day following the interview he caused to be +inserted in the morning paper an announcement of Edward's return and +arrest, and the additional fact that although his business in Paris had +not been finished, he had left upon the first steamer sailing from +Havre. At the club, he was outspoken in his denunciation of the +newspaper attacks and his confidence in the innocence of the man. There +was no hint in any quarter that it had been suspected that Rita Morgan +was really not murdered. It was generally understood that the defense +would rely upon the State's inability to make out a case.</p> + +<p>But Edward did not suffer greatly from loneliness. The day after the +funeral Mrs. Montjoy and Mary, together with the colonel, paid a formal +call and stayed for some hours; and the general came frequently with +Dabney and Eldridge, who had also been employed, and consulted over +their plans for the defense. Arrangements had been made with the +solicitor for a speedy trial and the momentous day dawned.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2> + +<h3>SLIPPERY DICK RIGHTS A WRONG.</h3> + + +<p>The prominence of the accused and of his friends, added to the +sensational publication, made the case one of immense interest. The +court house was crowded to its utmost and room had to be made within the +bar for prominent citizens. There was a "color line" feature in the +murder, and the gallery was packed with curious black faces. Edward, +quiet and self-contained, sat by his lawyers, and near him was the old +general and Col. Montjoy. Slightly in the rear was Barksdale, calm and +observant. The State had subp[oe]ned Royson as a witness, and, smilingly +indifferent, he occupied a seat as a member of the bar, inside the rail. +The case was called at last.</p> + +<p>"The State versus Edward Morgan, murder. Mr. Solicitor, what do you say +for the State?" asked the court.</p> + +<p>"Ready."</p> + +<p>"What do you say for the defense, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"Ready."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clerk, call the jury." The panel was called and sworn. The work of +striking the jury then proceeded. Eldridge and Dabney were clever +practitioners and did not neglect any precaution. The jury list was +scanned and undesirable names eliminated with as much care as if the +prisoner had small chance of escape.</p> + +<p>This proceeding covered an hour, but at last the panel was complete and +sworn. The defendant was so little known that this was a simple matter.</p> + +<p>The witnesses for the State were then called and sworn. They consisted +of the coroner, the physician who had examined the wound, and others, +including Gen. Evan, Virdow and Royson. Gen. Evan and Virdow had also +been summoned by the defense.</p> + +<p>As Royson took the oath it was observed that he was slightly pale and +embarrassed, but this was attributed to the fact of his recent conflict +and the eager state of the great crowd. No man in the room kept such +watch upon him as Barksdale; never once did he take his eyes from the +scarred face. Witnesses for the defense were then called—Gen. Evan and +Virdow. They had taken the oath. The defense demanded that witnesses for +the State be sent out of the room until called. As Royson was rising to +comply with the requirement common in such cases, Dabney stood up and +said:</p> + +<p>"Before Mr. Royson goes out, may it please Your Honor, I would +respectfully ask of the solicitor what it is expected to prove by him?"</p> + +<p>"We expect to prove, Your Honor, that Mr. Royson wrote a certain letter +which charged the prisoner with being a man of mixed blood, and that +Rita Morgan, the woman who was killed, was the woman in question and the +only authority; an important point in the case. Mr. Royson, I should +say, is here by subp[oe]na only and occupying a very delicate situation, +since he was afterward, by public report, engaged in a conflict with the +prisoner, growing out of the publication of that letter."</p> + +<p>"The solicitor is unnecessarily prolix, Your Honor. I asked the question +to withdraw our demand in his case as a matter of courtesy to a member +of the bar." Royson bowed and resumed his seat.</p> + +<p>"I now ask," said Dabney, "a like courtesy in behalf of Gen. Evan and +Prof. Virdow, witnesses for both State and defense." This was readily +granted.</p> + +<p>There was no demurrer to the indictment. The solicitor advanced before +the jury and read the document, word for word. "We expect to prove, +gentlemen of the jury, that the dead woman, named in this indictment, +was for many years housekeeper for the late John Morgan, and more +recently for the defendant in this case, Edward Morgan; that she resided +upon the premises with him and his cousin, Gerald Morgan; that on a +certain night, to wit, the date named in the indictment, she was +murdered by being struck in the head with some blunt implement, and that +she was discovered almost immediately thereafter by a witness; that +there was no one with the deceased at the time of her death but the +defendant, Edward Morgan, and that he, only, had a motive for her +death—namely, the suppression of certain facts, or certain publicly +alleged facts, which she alone possessed; that after her death, which +was sudden, he failed to notify the coroner, but permitted the body to +be buried without examination. And upon these facts, we say, the +defendant is guilty of murder. The coroner will please take the stand."</p> + +<p>The officer named appeared and gave in his testimony. He had, some days +after the burial of the woman, Rita Morgan, received a hint from an +anonymous letter that foul play was suspected in the case, and acting +under advice, had caused the body to be disinterred and he had held an +inquest upon it, with the result as expressed in the verdict which he +proceeded to read and which was then introduced as evidence. The witness +was turned over to the defense; they consulted and announced "no +questions".</p> + +<p>The next witness was the physician who examined the wound. He testified +to the presence of a wound in the back of the head that crushed the +skull and was sufficient to have caused death. Dabney asked of this +witness if there was much of a wound in the scalp, and the reply was +"No".</p> + +<p>"Was there any blood visible?"</p> + +<p>"No." The defense had no other questions for this officer, but announced +that they reserved the right to recall him if the case required it.</p> + +<p>The next witness was Virdow. He had seen the body after death, but had +not examined the back of the head; had seen a small cut upon the temple, +which the defendant had explained to him was made by her falling against +the glass in the conservatory. There was a pane broken at the point +indicated.</p> + +<p>And then Evan was put up.</p> + +<p>"Gen. Evan," asked the solicitor, "where were you upon the night that +Rita Morgan died?"</p> + +<p>"At the residence of Edward Morgan, sir."</p> + +<p>"Where were you when you first discovered the death of Rita Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen of the jury, at the time indicated, I was standing in the +glass-room occupied by the late Gerald Morgan, in the residence of the +defendant in this county——"</p> + +<p>"And state?" interrupted the solicitor.</p> + +<p>"And state. I was standing by the bedside of Gerald Morgan, who was ill. +I was deeply absorbed in thought and perfectly oblivious to my +surroundings, I suppose. I am certain that Edward Morgan was in the room +with me. I was aroused by hearing him cry out and then discovered that +the door leading into the shrubbery was open. I ran out and found him +near the head of the woman."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice any cuts or signs of blood?"</p> + +<p>"I noticed only a slight cut upon the forehead."</p> + +<p>"Did you examine her for other wounds?"</p> + +<p>"I did not. I understood then that she had, in a fit of some kind, +fallen against the glass, and that seeing her from within, Mr. Morgan +had run out and picked her up."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear any sound of breaking glass?"</p> + +<p>"I think I did. I cannot swear to it; my mind was completely absorbed at +that time. There was broken glass at the place pointed out by him."</p> + +<p>"That night—pointed out that night?"</p> + +<p>"No. I believe some days later."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear voices?"</p> + +<p>"I heard some one say 'They lied!' and then I heard Edward Morgan cry +aloud. Going out I found him by the dead body of the woman."</p> + +<p>The defense cross-questioned.</p> + +<p>"You do not swear, General Evan, that Mr. Morgan was not in the room at +the time the woman Rita was seized with sudden illness?"</p> + +<p>"I do not. It was my belief then, and is now——"</p> + +<p>"Stop," said the solicitor.</p> + +<p>"Confine yourself to facts only," said the court.</p> + +<p>"You are well acquainted with Mr. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"As well as possible in the short time I have known him."</p> + +<p>"What is his character?"</p> + +<p>"He is a gentleman and as brave as any man I ever saw on the field of +battle." There was slight applause as the general came down, but it was +for the general himself.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Royson will please take the stand," said the solicitor. "You were +the author of the letter concerning the alleged parentage of Edward +Morgan, which was published in an extra in this city a few weeks since?" +Royson bowed slightly.</p> + +<p>"From whom did you get your information?"</p> + +<p>"From Rita Morgan," he said, calmly. There was a breathless silence for +a moment and then an angry murmur in the great audience. All eyes were +fixed upon Edward, who had grown pale, but he maintained his calmness. +The astounding statement had filled him with a sickening horror. Not +until that moment did he fully comprehend the extent of the enmity +cherished against him by the witness. On the face of Barksdale descended +a look as black as night. He did not, however, move a muscle.</p> + +<p>"You say that Rita Morgan told you—when?"</p> + +<p>"About a week previous to her death. She declared that her own son had +secured his rights at last. I had been consulted by her soon after John +Morgan's death, looking to the protection of those rights, she being of +the opinion that Gerald Morgan would inherit. When it was found that +this defendant here had inherited she called, paid my fee and made the +statement as given."</p> + +<p>"Why did you fight a duel with the defendant, then—knowing, or +believing you knew, his base parentage?"</p> + +<p>"I was forced to do so by the fact that I was challenged direct and no +informant demanded; and by the fact that while my friends were +discussing my situation, General Evan, acting under a mistaken idea, +vouched for him."</p> + +<p>These ingenuous answers took away the general's breath. He had never +anticipated such plausible lies. Even Dabney was for the moment +bewildered. Edward could scarcely restrain his emotion and horror. As a +matter of fact, Rita was not dead when the challenge was accepted. +Royson had lied under oath!</p> + +<p>"The witness is with you," said the solicitor, with just a tinge of +sarcasm in his tones.</p> + +<p>"Were the statements of Rita Morgan in writing?" asked Dabney.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then, may it please Your Honor, I move to rule them out." A debate +followed. The statements were ruled out. Royson was suffered to descend, +subject to recall.</p> + +<p>"The State closes," said the prosecuting officer.</p> + +<p>Then came the sensation of the day.</p> + +<p>The crowd and the bar were wondering what the defense would attempt with +no witnesses, when Dabney arose.</p> + +<p>"May it please Your Honor, we have now a witness, not here when the case +was called, whom we desire to bring in and have sworn. We shall decide +about introducing him within a few moments and there is one other +witness telegraphed for who has just reached the city. We ask leave to +introduce him upon his arrival." And then turning to the sheriff, he +whispered direction. The sheriff went to the hall and returned with a +negro. Royson was engaged in conversation, leaning over the back of his +chair and with his face averted. The witness was sworn and took the +stand facing the crowd. A murmur of surprise ran about the room, for +there, looking out upon them, was the well-known face of Slippery Dick. +The next proceedings were irregular but dramatic. Little Dabney drew +himself up to his full height and shouted in a shrill voice:</p> + +<p>"Look at that man, gentlemen of the jury." At the same time his finger +was pointed at Royson. All eyes were at once fixed upon that individual. +His face was as chalk, and the red scar across the nose flamed as so +much fiery paint. His eyes were fastened on the witness with such an +expression of fear and horror that those near him shuddered and drew +back slightly. And as he gazed his left hand fingered at his collar and +presently, with sudden haste, tore away the black cravat. Then he made +an effort to leave, but Barksdale arose and literally hurled him back in +his chair. The court rapped loudly.</p> + +<p>"I fine you $50, Mr. Barksdale. Take your seat!"</p> + +<p>Dick, unabashed, met that wild, pleading, threatening, futile gaze of +Royson, who was now but half-conscious of the proceedings.</p> + +<p>"Tell the jury, do you know this man?" shouted the shrill voice again, +the finger still pointing to Royson.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sah; dat's Mr. Royson."</p> + +<p>"Were you ever hired by him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sah."</p> + +<p>"When—the last time?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout three weeks ago."</p> + +<p>"To do what?"</p> + +<p>"Open 'er grave."</p> + +<p>"Whose grave?"</p> + +<p>"Rita Morgan's."</p> + +<p>"And what else?"</p> + +<p>There was intense silence; Dick twisted uneasily.</p> + +<p>"And what else?" repeated Dabney.</p> + +<p>"Knock her in de head."</p> + +<p>"Did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sah."</p> + +<p>"Where did you knock her in the head?"</p> + +<p>"In de back of de head."</p> + +<p>"Hard?"</p> + +<p>"Hard enough to break her skull."</p> + +<p>"Did you see Mr. Morgan that night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sah."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Downtown, jus' fo' I tole Mr. Royson 'all right'."</p> + +<p>"Where did you next see him?"</p> + +<p>"After he was killed by de lightnin'."</p> + +<p>"The witness is with you," said Dabney, the words ringing out in +triumph. He faced the solicitor defiantly. His questions had followed +each other with astounding rapidity and the effect on every hearer was +profound. The solicitor was silent; his eyes were upon Royson. Some one +had handed the latter a glass of water, which he was trying to drink.</p> + +<p>"I have no questions," said the solicitor gravely.</p> + +<p>"You can come down, Dick." The negro stepped down and started out. He +passed close to Royson, who was standing in the edge of the middle +aisle. Their eyes met. It may have been pure devilishness or simply +nervous facial contortion, but at that moment the negro's face took on a +grin. Whatever the cause, the effect was fatal to him. The approach of +the negro had acted upon the wretched Royson like a maddening stimulant. +At the sight of that diabolical countenance, he seized him with his left +hand and stabbed him frantically a dozen times before he could be +prevented. With a moan of anguish the negro fell dead, bathing the scene +in blood.</p> + +<p>A great cry went up from the spectators and not until the struggling +lawyer and the bloody corpse had been dragged out did the court succeed +in enforcing order.</p> + +<p>The solicitor went up and whispered to the judge, who nodded +immediately, but before he announced that a verdict of acquittal would +be allowed, the defendant's attorneys drew him aside, and made an appeal +to him to let them proceed, as a mere acquittal was not full justice to +the accused.</p> + +<p>Then the defense put up the ex-reporter and by him proved the +procurement by Royson of the libels and his authorship and gave his +connection with the affair from the beginning, which was the reception +of an anonymous card informing him that Royson held such information.</p> + +<p>Gen. Evan then testified that Rita died while Royson's second was +standing at the front door at Ilexhurst, with Royson's note in his +pocket.</p> + +<p>The jury was briefly charged by the court and without leaving the box +returned a verdict of not guilty. The tragedy and dramatic denouement +had wrought the audience to the highest pitch of excitement. The +revulsion of feeling was indicated by one immense cheer, and Edward +found himself surrounded by more friends than he thought he had +acquaintances, who shook his hand and congratulated him. Barksdale +stalked through the crowd and laid $50 upon the clerk's desk. Smiling up +at the court he said:</p> + +<p>"Will Your Honor not make it a thousand? It is too cheap!"</p> + +<p>But that good-natured dignitary replied:</p> + +<p>"The fine is remitted. You couldn't help it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2> + +<h3>A WOMAN'S WIT CONQUERS.</h3> + + +<p>Cambia was greatly disturbed by the sudden departure of the Montjoys. +She shut herself up and refused all visitors. Was the great-hearted yet +stern Cambia ill or distressed? The maid did not know.</p> + +<p>She had called for the "Figaro," to see the passenger list of the +steamer. The names were there; the steamer had sailed. And then as she +sat gazing upon the sheet another caught her attention in an adjoining +column, "Gaspard Levigne." It was in the body of an advertisement which +read:</p> + +<p>"Reward—A liberal reward will be paid for particulars of the death of +Gaspard Levigne, which, it is said, occurred recently in Paris. +Additional reward will be paid for the address of the present owner of +the Stradivarius violin lately owned by the said Gaspard Levigne and the +undersigned will buy said violin at full value, if for sale."</p> + +<p>Following this was a long and minute description of the instrument. The +advertisement was signed by Louis Levigne, Breslau, Silesia.</p> + +<p>Cambia read and reread this notice with pale face and gave herself to +reflection. She threw off the weight of the old troubles which had +swarmed over her again and prepared for action. Three hours later she +was on her way to Berlin; the next day found her in Breslau. A few +moments later and she was entering the house of the advertiser.</p> + +<p>In a dark, old-fashioned living-room, a slender, gray-haired man came +forward rather cautiously to meet her. She knew his face despite the +changes of nearly thirty years; he was the only brother of her husband +and one of her chief persecutors in those unhappy days. It was not +strange that in this tall, queenlike woman, trained to face great +audiences without embarrassment, he should fail to recognize the shy and +lonely little American who had invaded the family circle. He bowed, +unconsciously feeling the influence of her fine presence and commanding +eyes.</p> + +<p>"You, I suppose, are Louis Levigne, who advertised recently for +information of Gaspard Levigne?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame; my brother was the unfortunate Gaspard. We think him dead. +Know you anything of him?"</p> + +<p>"I knew him years ago; I was then a singer and he was my accompanist. +Recently he died." The face of the man lighted up with a strange gleam. +She regarded him curiously and continued: "Died poor and friendless."</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed! He should have communicated with us; he was not poor and +would not have been friendless."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You know, madame, the new age is progressive. Some lands we had in +northern Silesia, worthless for 200 years, have developed iron and a +company has purchased." The woman smiled sadly.</p> + +<p>"Too late," she said, "for poor Gaspard. This is why you have +advertised?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame. There can be no settlement until we have proofs of +Gaspard's death."</p> + +<p>"You are the only heir aside from Gaspard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame." The count grew restless under these questions, but +circumstances compelled courtesy to this visitor.</p> + +<p>"Excuse my interest, Count, but Gaspard was my friend and I knew of his +affairs. Did he not leave heirs?" The man replied with gesture in which +was mingled every shade of careless contempt that could be expressed.</p> + +<p>"There was a woman—a plaything of Gaspard's calling herself his +wife—but they parted nearly thirty years ago. He humored her and then +sent her back where she came from—America, I believe."</p> + +<p>"I am more than ever interested, Count. Gaspard did not impress me as +vicious."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, follies of youth, call them. Gaspard was wild; he first left +here because of a mock-marriage escapade; when two years after he came +back with this little doll we supposed it was another case; at any rate, +Gaspard was once drunk enough to boast that she could never prove the +marriage." Cambia could restrain herself only with desperate efforts. +These were knife blows.</p> + +<p>"Were there no heirs?"</p> + +<p>"I have never heard. It matters little here. But, madame, you know of +Gaspard's death; can you not give me the facts so that I may obtain +proofs?" She looked at him steadily.</p> + +<p>"I saw him die."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that simplifies it all," said the count, pleasantly. "Will you be +kind enough to go before an attesting officer and complete the proofs? +You have answered the advertisement—do I insult you by speaking of +reward?" He looked critically at her simple but elegant attire and +hesitated.</p> + +<p>"No. But I do not care for money. I will furnish positive proof of the +death of Gaspard Levigne for the violin mentioned in the advertisement." +The man was now much astounded.</p> + +<p>"But madame, it is an heirloom; that is why I have advertised for it."</p> + +<p>"Then get it. And let me receive it direct from the hands of the present +holder or I shall not furnish the proofs." Some doubt of the woman's +sanity flashed over the count.</p> + +<p>"I have already explained, madame, that it is an heirloom——"</p> + +<p>"And I have shown you that I do not consider that as important."</p> + +<p>"But of what use can it possibly be to you? There are other Cremonas I +will buy—"</p> + +<p>"I want this one because it is the violin of Gaspard Levigne, and he was +my husband."</p> + +<p>The count nearly leaped from the floor.</p> + +<p>"When did he marry you, madame?"</p> + +<p>"That is a long story; but he did; we were bohemians in Paris. I am heir +to his interests in these mines, but I care little for that—very +little. I am independent. My husband's violin is my one wish now." The +realization of how completely he had been trapped betrayed the forced +courtesy of the man.</p> + +<p>"You married him. I presume you ascertained that the American wife was +dead?"</p> + +<p>"You have informed me that the American was not his wife."</p> + +<p>"But she was, and if she is living to-day madame's claims are very +slender."</p> + +<p>"You speak positively!"</p> + +<p>"I do. I saw the proofs. We should not have given the girl any +recognition without them, knowing Gaspard's former escapade."</p> + +<p>"Then," said the woman, her face lighting up with a sudden joy, and +growing stern again instantly, "then you lied just now, you cowardly +hound."</p> + +<p>"Madame." The count had retreated behind a chair and looked anxiously at +the bell, but she was in the way.</p> + +<p>"You lied, sir, I say. I am the wife, and now the widow, of Gaspard +Levigne, but not a second wife. I am that 'plaything,' as you called +her, the American, armed now with a knowledge of my rights and your +treachery. You may well shiver and grow pale, sir; I am no longer the +trembling child you terrified with brutality, but a woman who could buy +your family with its mines thrown in, and not suffer because of the bad +investment. From this room, upon the information you have given, I go to +put my case in the hands of lawyers and establish my claim. It is not +share and share in this country; my husband was the first born, and I am +his heir!"</p> + +<p>"My God!"</p> + +<p>"It is too late to call upon God; He is on my side now! I came to you, +sir, a woman to be loved, not a pauper. My father was more than a prince +in his country. His slaves were numbered by the hundreds, and his lands +would have sufficed for a dozen of your counts. I was crushed and my +life was ruined, and my husband turned against me. But he repented—he +repented. There was no war between Gaspard and me when he died." The man +looked on and believed her.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, humbly, "has been wronged. For myself, it matters +little, this new turn of affairs, but I have others." She had been +looking beyond him into space.</p> + +<p>"And yet," she said, "it is the violin I would have. It was the violin +that first spoke our love; it is a part of me; I would give my fortune +to possess it again." He was looking anxiously at her, not comprehending +this passion, but hoping much from it.</p> + +<p>"And how much will you give?"</p> + +<p>"I will give the mines and release all claims against you and your +father's estate."</p> + +<p>"Alas, madame, I can give you the name of the holder of that violin but +not the violin itself. You can make terms with him, and I will pay +whatever price is demanded."</p> + +<p>"How will I know you are not deceiving me?"</p> + +<p>"Madame is harsh, but she will be convinced if she knows the handwriting +of her—husband."</p> + +<p>"It is agreed," she said, struggling to keep down her excitement. Count +Levigne reached the coveted bell and in a few minutes secured a notary, +who drew up a formal agreement between the two parties. Cambia then gave +an affidavit setting forth the death of Gaspard Levigne in proper form +for use in court. Count Levigne took from his desk an envelope.</p> + +<p>"You have read my advertisement, madame. It was based on this:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Count L. Levigne, Breslau: When you receive this I will be +dead. Make no effort to trace me; it will be useless; my +present name is an assumed one. We have been enemies many +years, but everything changes in the presence of death, and I +do not begrudge you the pleasure of knowing that your brother +is beyond trouble and want forever and the title is yours. The +Cremona, to which I have clung even when honor was gone, I have +given to a young American named Morgan, who has made my life +happier in its winter than it was in its summer.</p> + +<p>"Gaspard Levigne."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The count watched the reader curiously as she examined the letter. Her +face was white, but her hand did not tremble as she handed back the +letter.</p> + +<p>"It is well," she said. "I am satisfied. Good morning, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>In Paris, Cambia's mind was soon made up. She privately arranged for an +indefinite absence, and one day she disappeared. It was the sensation of +the hour; the newspapers got hold of it, and all Paris wondered.</p> + +<p>There had always been a mystery in the life of Cambia. No man had ever +invaded it beyond the day when she put herself in the hands of a manager +and laid the foundation for her world-wide success upon the lyric stage.</p> + +<p>And then Paris forgot; and only the circle of her friends watched and +waited.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the swift steamer had carried Mrs. Gaspard Levigne across the +Atlantic and she had begun that journey into the south-land, once the +dream of her youth—the going back to father and to friends!</p> + +<p>The swift train carried her by towns and villages gorgeous with new +paint and through cities black with the smoke of factories. The negroes +about the stations were not of the old life, and the rushing, curt and +slangy young men who came and went upon the train belonged to a new age.</p> + +<p>The farms, with faded and dingy houses, poor fences, and uncared-for +fields and hedges, swept past like some bad dream. All was different; +not thirty years but a century had rolled its changes over the land +since her girlhood.</p> + +<p>And then came the alighting. Here was the city, different and yet the +same. But where was the great family carriage, with folding steps and +noble bays, the driver in livery, the footman to hold the door? Where +were father and friends? No human being came to greet her.</p> + +<p>She went to the hotel, locked herself in her room, and then Cambia gave +way for the first time in a generation to tears.</p> + +<p>But she was eminently a practical woman. She had not come to America to +weep. The emotion soon passed. At her request a file of recent papers +was laid before her, and she went through them carefully. She found that +which she had not looked for.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2> + +<h3>DEATH OF COL. MONTJOY.</h3> + + +<p>It was the morning succeeding the trial, one of those southern days that +the late fall steals from summer and tempts the birds to sing in the +woodlands. Gen. Evan had borne Virdow and Edward in triumph to The +Cedars and, after breakfast, Edward had ridden over to The Hall, leaving +the two old men together. Virdow interested his host with accurate +descriptions of the great battles between the Germans and the French; +and Evan in turn gave him vivid accounts of the mighty Virginia +struggles between Federals and Confederates.</p> + +<p>When they finally came to Edward as a topic the German was eloquent. He +placed him beside himself in learning and ahead of all amateurs as +artist and musician.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morgan agreed with me in his estimate of Edward," Virdow said. +"They were warm friends. Edward reciprocated the affection bestowed upon +him; in Europe they traveled much—"</p> + +<p>"Of what Mr. Morgan do you speak?" The general was puzzled.</p> + +<p>"The elder, Mr. John Morgan, I think. But what am I saying? I mean +Abingdon."</p> + +<p>"Abingdon? I do not know him." Virdow reflected a moment.</p> + +<p>"Abingdon was the name by which Edward knew John Morgan in Europe. They +met annually and were inseparable companions."</p> + +<p>"John Morgan—our John Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I am told he was very eccentric, and this was probably a whim. But +it enabled him to study the character of his relative. He seems to have +been satisfied, and who wouldn't?"</p> + +<p>"You astound me. I had never heard that John Morgan went to Europe. I +did hear that he went annually to Canada, for the summer months; that is +all."</p> + +<p>"Edward never knew of the connection until he came here and saw a +picture of John Morgan, drawn by Gerald. We both recognized it +instantly." Evan was silent, thinking upon this curious information. At +last he asked:</p> + +<p>"Was Edward Mr. Morgan's only intimate companion?"</p> + +<p>"The only one."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear why Mr. Morgan concealed his identity under an +assumed name?"</p> + +<p>"No. We did not connect Abingdon with John Morgan until letters were +returned with information that Abingdon was dead; and then Gerald drew +his picture from memory."</p> + +<p>And as these two old gentlemen chattered about him, Edward himself was +approaching the Montjoys.</p> + +<p>He found Mary upon the porch; his horse's feet had announced his coming. +Her face was flushed and a glad light shone in her eyes. She gave him +her hand without words; she had intended expressing her pleasure and her +congratulations, but when the time came the words were impossible.</p> + +<p>"You have been anxious," he said, reading her silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied; "I could not doubt you but there are so many things +involved, and I had no one to talk with. It was a long suspense, but +women have to learn such lessons," and then she added, seeing that he +was silent: "It was the most unhappy day of my life: papa was gone, and +poor mamma's eyes have troubled her so much. She has bandaged them again +and stays in her room. The day seemed never-ending. When papa came he +was pale and haggard, and his face deceived me. I thought that something +had gone wrong—some mistake had occurred and you were in trouble, but +papa was ill, and the news—" She turned her face away suddenly, feeling +the tears starting.</p> + +<p>Edward drew her up to a settee under a spreading oak, and seating +himself beside her told her much of his life's story—his doubts, his +hopes, his fears. She held her breath as he entered upon his experience +at Ilexhurst and Gerald's life and identity were dwelt upon.</p> + +<p>"This," said he at last, "is your right to know. It is due to me. I +cannot let you misjudge the individual. While I am convinced, that does +not make a doubt a fact and on it I cannot build a future. You have my +history, and you know that in the heart of Edward Morgan you alone have +any part. The world holds no other woman for me, nor ever will; but +there is the end. If I stayed by you the day would come when this love +would sweep away every resolution, every sense of duty, every instinct +of my mind, except the instinct to love you, and for this reason I have +come to say that until life holds no mystery for Edward Morgan he will +be an exile from you."</p> + +<p>The girl's head was sunk upon her arms as it rested upon the settee. She +did not lift her face. What could she answer to such a revelation, such +a declaration? After a while he ceased to walk the gravel floor of their +arbor, and stood by her. Unconsciously he let his hand rest upon the +brown curls. "This does not mean," he said, very gently, "that I am +going away to mope and wear out life in idle regrets. Marion Evan lives; +I will find her. And then—and then—if she bids me, I will come back, +and with a clean record ask you to be my wife. Answer me, my love, my +only love—let me say these words this once—answer me; is this the +course that an honorable man should pursue?"</p> + +<p>She rose then and faced him proudly. His words had thrilled her soul.</p> + +<p>"It is. I could never love you, Edward, if you could offer less. I have +no doubt in my mind—none. A woman's heart knows without argument, and I +know that you will come to me some day. God be with you till we meet +again—and for all time and eternity. This will be my prayer."</p> + +<p>Without object, the silent couple, busy with their thoughts, entered the +living-room. The colonel was sitting in his arm-chair, his paper dropped +from his listless hand, his eyes closed. The Duchess in his lap had +fallen asleep, holding the old open-faced watch and its mystery of the +little boy within who cracked hickory nuts. They made a pretty +picture—youth and old age, early spring and late winter. Mary lifted +her hand warningly.</p> + +<p>"Softly," she said; "they sleep; don't disturb them." Edward looked +closely into the face of the old man, and then to the surprise of the +girl placed his arm about her waist.</p> + +<p>"Do not cry out," he said; "keep calm and remember that the little +mamma's health—"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she said, looking with wonder into his agitated face +as she sought gently to free herself. "Have you forgotten——"</p> + +<p>"This is sleep indeed—but the sleep of eternity."</p> + +<p>She sprang from him with sudden terror and laid her hand upon the cold +forehead of her father. For an instant she stared into his face, with +straining eyes, and then with one frightful scream she sank by his side, +uttering his name in agonized tones.</p> + +<p>Edward strove tearfully to calm her; it was too late. Calling upon +husband and daughter frantically, Mrs. Montjoy rushed from her room into +the presence of death. She was blindfolded, but with unerring instinct +she found the still form and touched the dead face. The touch revealed +the truth; with one quick motion she tore away the bandages from her +face, and then in sudden awe the words fell from her:</p> + +<p>"I am blind!" Mary had risen to her side and was clinging to her, and +Edward had assisted, fearing she might fall to the floor. But with the +consciousness of her last misfortune had soon come calmness. She heeded +not the cries of the girl appealing to her, but knelt with her white +face lifted and said simply:</p> + +<p>"Dear Father, Thou art merciful; I have not seen him dead! Blest forever +be Thy Holy name!" Edward turned his back and stood with bowed head, the +silence broken now only by the sobs of the daughter. Still sleeping in +the lap of the dead, her chubby hand clasping the wonderful toy, was the +Duchess, and at her feet the streaming sunlight. The little boy came to +the door riding the old man's gold-headed cane for a horse and carrying +the cow horn, which he had pushed from its nail upon the porch.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa, ain't it time to blow the horn?" he said. "Grandma, why don't +grandpa wake up?" She drew him to her breast and silenced his queries.</p> + +<p>And still with a half-smile upon his patrician face—the face that women +and children loved and all men honored—sat the colonel; one more leaf +from the old south blown to earth.</p> + +<p>The little girl awoke at last, sat up and caught sight of the watch.</p> + +<p>"Look, gamma. Little boy in deir cackin' hickeynut," and she placed the +jewel against the ear of the kneeling woman.</p> + +<p>That peculiarly placid expression, driven away in the moment of +dissolution, had returned to the dead man; he seemed to hear the Duchess +prattle and the familiar demand for music upon the horn.</p> + +<p>Isham had responded to the outcry and rushed in. With a sob he had stood +by the body a moment and then gone out shaking his head and moaning. And +then, as they waited, there rang out upon the clear morning air the +plantation bell—not the merry call to labor and the sweet summons to +rest, which every animal on the plantation knew and loved, but a solemn +tolling, significant in its measured volume.</p> + +<p>And over the distant fields where the hands were finishing their labors, +the solemn sounds came floating. Old Peter lifted his head. "Who dat +ring dat bell dis time er day?" he said, curiously; and then, under the +lessening volume of the breeze, the sound fell to almost silence, to +rise again stronger than before and float with sonorous meaning.</p> + +<p>At long intervals they had heard it. It always marked a change in their +lives.</p> + +<p>One or two of the men began to move doubtfully toward the house, and +others followed, increasing their pace as the persistent alarm was +sounded, until some were running. And thus they came to where old Isham +tolled the bell, his eyes brimming over with tears.</p> + +<p>"Old marster's gone! Old marster's gone!" he called to the first, and +the words went down the line and were carried to the "quarters," which +soon gave back the death chant from excited women. The negroes edged +into the yard and into the hall, and then some of the oldest into the +solemn presence of the dead, gazing in silence upon the sad, white face +and closed eyes.</p> + +<p>Then there was a tumult in yard and hall; a shuffling of feet announced +a newcomer. Mammy Phyllis, walking with the aid of a staff, entered the +room and stood by the side of the dead man. Every voice was still; here +was the woman who had nursed him and who had raised him; hers was the +right to a superior grief. She gazed long and tenderly into the face of +her foster-child and master and turned away, but she came again and laid +her withered hand upon his forehead. This time she went, to come no +more. In the room of the bereaved wife she took her seat, to stay a +silent comforter for days. Her own grief found never a voice or a tear.</p> + +<p>One by one the negroes followed her; they passed in front of the +sleeper, looked steadily, silently, into his face and went out. Some +touched him with the tips of their fingers, doubtfully, pathetically. +For them, although not realized fully, it was the passing of the old +regime. It was the first step into that life where none but strangers +dwelt, where there was no sympathy, no understanding. Some would drift +into cities to die of disease, some to distant cabins, to grow old +alone. One day the last of the slaves would lie face up and the old +south would be no more.</p> + +<p>None was left but one. Edward came at last and stood before his host. +Long and thoughtfully he gazed and then passed out. He had place in +neither the old nor the new. But the dead man had been his friend. He +would not forget it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE ESCAPE OF AMOS ROYSON.</h3> + + +<p>When Amos Royson's senses returned to him he was standing in the middle +of a room in the county jail. The whirl in his head, wherein had mingled +the faces of men, trees, buildings and patches of sky illumined with +flashes of intensest light and vocal with a multitude of cries—these, +the rush of thoughts and the pressure upon his arteries, had ceased. He +looked about him in wonder. Was it all a dream? From the rear of the +building, where in their cage the negro prisoners were confined came a +mighty chorus, "Swing low, sweet chariot," making more intense the +silence of his own room. That was not of a dream, nor were the bare +walls, nor the barred windows. His hands nervously clutching his lapels +touched something cold and wet. He lifted them to the light; they were +bloody! He made no outcry when he saw this, but stood a long minute +gazing upon them, his face wearing in that half shadow a confession of +guilt. And in that minute all the facts of the day stood forth, clear +cut and distinct, and his situation unfolded itself. He was a murderer, +a perjurer and a conspirator. Not a human being in all that city would +dare to call him friend.</p> + +<p>The life of this man had been secretly bad; he had deluded himself with +maxims and rules of gentility. He was, in fact, no worse at that moment +in jail than he had been at heart for years. But now he had been +suddenly exposed; the causes he had set in motion had produced a natural +but unexpected climax, and it is a fact that in all the world there was +no man more surprised to find that Amos Royson was a villain than Royson +himself. He was stunned at first; then came rage; a blind, increasing +rebellion of spirit unused to defeat. He threw himself against the facts +that hemmed him in as a wild animal against its cage, but he could not +shake them. They were still facts. He was doomed by them. Then a tide of +grief overwhelmed him; his heart opened back into childhood; he plunged +face down upon his bed; silent, oblivious to time, and to the jailer's +offer of food returning no reply. Despair had received him! A weapon at +hand then would have ended the career of Amos Royson.</p> + +<p>Time passed. No human being from the outer world called upon him. +Counsel came at last, in answer to his request, and a line of defense +had been agreed upon. Temporary insanity would be set up in the murder +case, but even if this were successful, trials for perjury and +conspiracy must follow. The chances were against his acquittal in any, +and the most hopeful view he could take was imprisonment for life.</p> + +<p>For life! How often, as solicitor, he had heard the sentence descend +upon the poor wretches he prosecuted. And not one was as guilty as he. +This was the deliberate verdict of the fairest judge known to man—the +convicting instincts of the soul that tries its baser self.</p> + +<p>At the hands of the jailer Royson received the best possible treatment. +He was given the commodious front room and allowed every reasonable +freedom. This officer was the sheriff's deputy, and both offices were +political plums. The prisoner had largely shaped local politics and had +procured for him the the sheriff's bondsmen. Officeholders are not +ungrateful—when the office is elective.</p> + +<p>The front room meant much to a prisoner; it gave him glimpses into the +free, busy world outside, with its seemingly happy men and women, with +its voices of school children and musical cries of street vendors.</p> + +<p>This spot, the window of his room, became Royson's life. He stood there +hour after hour, only withdrawing in shame when he saw a familiar face +upon the street. And standing there one afternoon, just before dark, he +beheld Annie's little vehicle stop in front of the jail. She descended, +and as she came doubtfully forward she caught sight of his face. She was +dressed in deep black and wore a heavy crepe veil. There was a few +minutes' delay, then the room door opened and Annie was coming slowly +toward him, her veil thrown back, her face pale and her hand doubtfully +extended. He looked upon her coldly without changing his position.</p> + +<p>"Are you satisfied?" he said, at length, when she stood silent before +him.</p> + +<p>Whatever had been the emotion of the woman, it, too, passed with the +sound of his sentence.</p> + +<p>"I would not quarrel with you, Amos, and I might do so if I answered +that question as it deserves. I have but a few minutes to stop here and +will not waste them upon the past. The question is now as to the future. +Have you any plan?"</p> + +<p>"None," he replied, with a sneer. "I am beyond plans. Life is not worth +living if I were out, and the game is now not worth the candle." The +woman stood silent.</p> + +<p>"What are your chances for acquittal?" she asked, after a long silence.</p> + +<p>"Acquittal! Absolutely none! Life itself may by a hard struggle be +saved. After that, it is the asylum or the mines."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"And then? Well, then I shall again ask my loving cousin to bring me a +powder. I will remind her once more that no Royson ever wore chains or a +halter, however much they may have deserved them. And for the sake of +her children she will consent." She walked to the corridor door and +listened and then came back to him. He smiled and stretched out his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Amos," she whispered, hurriedly; "God forgive me, but I have brought +it. I am going to New York to-morrow, and the chance may not come again. +Remember, it is at your request." She was fumbling nervously at the +bosom of her dress. "The morphine I could not get without attracting +attention, but the chloroform I had. I give it to you for use only when +life—" He had taken the bottle and was quietly looking upon the white +liquid.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, cousin," he said, quietly, with a ghastly little laugh. "I +have no doubt but that I can be spared from the family gatherings and +that in days to come perhaps some one will occasionally say 'poor Amos,' +when my fate is recalled. Thanks, a thousand thanks! Strange, but the +thought of death actually gives me new life." He looked upon her +critically a moment and then a new smile dawned upon his face.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "your note about Morgan; it will be unfortunate if that +ever comes to light. You were not smart, Annie. You could have bought +that with this bottle." She flushed in turn and bit her lip. The old +Annie was still dominant.</p> + +<p>"It would have been better since Mr. Morgan is to be my brother-in-law. +Still if there is no love between us it will not matter greatly. Mary +seems to be willing to furnish all the affection he will need."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" he asked, hoarsely, not attempting to disguise his +suffering. She was now relentless.</p> + +<p>"Oh, at Ilexhurst, I suppose. The general is to care for the old German +until the household is arranged again and everything made ready for the +bride."</p> + +<p>"Is the marriage certain?"</p> + +<p>She smiled cheerfully. "Oh, yes. It is to take place soon, and then they +are going to Europe for a year." And then as, white with rage, he +steadied himself against the window, she said: "Mary insisted upon +writing a line to you; there it is. If you can get any comfort from it, +you are welcome."</p> + +<p>He took the note and thrust it in his pocket, never removing his eyes +from her face. A ray had fallen into the blackness of his despair. It +grew and brightened until it lighted his soul with a splendor that shone +from his eyes and trembled upon every lineament of his face. Not a word +had indicated its presence. It was the silent expression of a hope and a +desperate resolve. The woman saw it and drew back in alarm. A suspicion +that he was really insane came upon her mind, and she was alone, +helpless and shut in with a maniac. A wild desire to scream and flee +overwhelmed her; she turned toward the door and in a minute would have +been gone.</p> + +<p>But the man had read her correctly. He seized her, clapped his hand over +her mouth, lifted her as he would a child and thrust her backward on the +bed. Before she could tear the grip from her mouth, he had drawn the +cork with his teeth and drenched the pillow-case with chloroform. There +was one faint cry as he moved his hand, but the next instant the drug +was in her nostrils and lungs. She struggled frantically, then faintly, +and then lay powerless at the mercy of the man bending over her.</p> + +<p>Hardly more than two minutes had passed, but in that time Amos Royson +was transformed. He had a chance for life and that makes men of cowards. +He stripped away the outer garments of the woman and arrayed himself in +them, adding the bonnet and heavy veil, and then turned to go. He was +cool now and careful. He went to the bed and drew the cover over the +prostrate form. He had occupied the same place in the same attitude for +hours. The jailer would come, offer supper from the door and go away. He +would, if he got out, have the whole night for flight. And he would need +it. The morn might bring no waking to the silent form. The thought +chilled his blood, but it also added speed to his movements. He drew off +the pillow-case, rolled it into a ball and dropped it out of the window. +He had seen the woman approach with veil down and handkerchief to her +face. It was his cue. He bent his head, pressed his handkerchief to his +eyes beneath the veil and went below. The jailer let the bent, +sob-shaken figure in and then out of the office. The higher class seldom +came there. He stood bareheaded until the visitor climbed into the +vehicle and drove away.</p> + +<p>It was with the greatest difficulty only that Royson restrained himself +and suffered the little mare to keep a moderate pace. Fifteen minutes +ago a hopeless prisoner, and now free! Life is full of surprises. But +where? Positively the situation had shaped itself so rapidly he had not +the slightest plan in mind. He was free and hurrying into the country +without a hat and dressed in a woman's garb!</p> + +<p>The twilight had deepened into gloom. How long would it be before +pursuit began? And should he keep on the disguise? He slipped out of it +to be ready for rapid flight, and then upon a second thought put it on +again. He might be met and recognized. His whole manner had undergone a +change; he was now nervous and excited, and the horse unconsciously +urged along, was running at full speed. A half-hour at that rate would +bear him to The Hall. Cursing his imprudence, he checked the animal and +drove on more moderately and finally stopped. He could not think +intelligently. Should he go on to The Hall and throw himself upon the +mercy of his connections? They would be bound to save him. Mary! Ah, +Mary! And then the note thrust itself in mind. With feverish haste he +searched for and drew it out. He tore off the envelope and helped by a +flickering match he read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"You must have suffered before you could have sinned so, and I +am sorry for you. Believe me, however others may judge you, +there is no resentment but only forgiveness for you in the +heart of</p> + +<p>"Mary."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Then the tumult within him died away. No man can say what that little +note did for Amos Royson that night. He would go to her, to this +generous girl, and ask her aid. But Annie! What if that forced sleep +should deepen into death! Who could extricate her? How would Mary +arrange that? She would get Morgan. He could not refuse her anything. He +could not falter when the family name and family honor were at stake. He +could not let his wife—his wife! A cry burst from the lips of the +desperate man. His wife! Yes, he would go to him, but not for help. Amos +Royson might die or escape—but the triumph of this man should be +short-lived.</p> + +<p>The mare began running again; he drew rein with a violence that brought +the animal's front feet high in air and almost threw her to the ground. +A new idea had been born; he almost shouted over it. He tore off the +woman's garb, dropped it in the buggy, sprang out and let the animal go. +In an instant the vehicle was out of sight in the dark woods, and Royson +was running the other way. For the idea born in his mind was this:</p> + +<p>"Of all the places in the world for me the safest is Ilexhurst—if—" He +pressed his hand to his breast. The bottle was still safe! And Annie! +The horse returning would lead to her release.</p> + +<p>Amos Royson had a general knowledge of the situation at Ilexhurst. At 12 +o'clock he entered through the glass-room and made his way to the body +of the house. He was familiar with the lower floor. The upper he could +guess at. He must first find the occupied room, and so, taking off his +shoes, he noiselessly ascended the stairway. He passed first into the +boy's room and tried the door to that known as the mother's, but it was +locked. He listened there long and intently, but heard no sound except +the thumping of his own heart. Then he crossed the hall and there, upon +a bed in the front room, dimly visible in the starlight, was the man he +sought.</p> + +<p>The discovery of his victim, helpless and completely within his power, +marked a crisis in the mental progress of Royson. He broke down and +trembled violently, not from conscience, but from a realization of the +fact that his escape was now an accomplished fact. This man before him +disposed of, Ilexhurst was his for an indefinite length of time. Here he +could rest and prepare for a distant flight. No one, probably, would +come, but should anyone come, why, the house was unoccupied. The mood +passed; he went back to the hall, drew out his handkerchief and +saturated it with liquid from the bottle in his pocket. A distant +tapping alarmed him, and he drew deeper into the shadow. Some one seemed +knocking at a rear door. Or was it a rat with a nut in the wall? All old +houses have them. No; it was the tapping of a friendly tree upon the +weather boards, or a ventilator in the garret. So he reasoned. There +came a strange sensation upon his brain, a sweet, sickening taste in his +mouth and dizziness. He cast the cloth far away and rushed to the stair, +his heart beating violently. He had almost chloroformed himself while +listening to his coward fears.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The dizziness passed away, but left him unnerved. He dared not walk now. +He crawled to the cloth and thence into the room. Near the bed he lifted +his head a little and saw the white face of the sleeper turned to him. +He raised the cloth and held it ready; there would be a struggle, and it +would be desperate. Would he fail? Was he not already weakened? He let +it fall gently in front of the sleeper's face, and then inch by inch +pushed it nearer. Over his own senses he felt the languor stealing; how +was it with the other? The long regular inspirations ceased, the man +slept profoundly and noiselessly—the first stage of unconsciousness. +The man on the floor crawled to the window and laid his pale cheek upon +the sill.</p> + +<p>How long Royson knelt he never knew. He stood up at last with throbbing +temples, but steadier. He went up to the sleeper and shook him—gently +at first, then violently. The drug had done its work.</p> + +<p>Then came the search for more matches and then light. And there upon the +side table, leaning against the wall, was the picture that Gerald had +drawn; the face of Mary, severe and noble, the fine eyes gazing straight +into his.</p> + +<p>He had not thought out his plans. It is true that the house was his for +days, if he wished it, but how about the figure upon the bed? Could he +occupy that building with such a tenant? It seemed to him the sleeper +moved. Quickly wetting the handkerchief again he laid it upon the cold +lips, with a towel over it to lessen evaporation. And as he turned, the +eyes of the picture followed him. He must have money to assist his +escape; the sleeper's clothing was there. He lifted the garments. An +irresistible power drew his attention to the little table, and there, +still fixed upon him, were the calm, proud eyes of the girl. Angrily he +cast aside the clothing. The eyes still held him in their power, and now +they were scornful. They seemed to measure and weigh him: Amos Royson, +murderer, perjurer, conspirator—thief! The words were spoken somewhere; +they became vocal in that still room. Terrified, he looked to the man +upon the bed and there he saw the eyes, half-open, fixed upon him and +the towel moving above the contemptuous lips. With one bound he passed +from the room, down the steps, toward the door. Anywhere to be out of +that room, that house!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV" id="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV.</h2> + +<h3>HOW A DEBT WAS PAID.</h3> + + +<p>On went the spirited mare to The Hall, skillfully avoiding obstructions, +and drew up at last before the big gate. She had not been gentle in her +approach, and old Isham was out in the night holding her bit and talking +to her before she realized that her coming had not been expected.</p> + +<p>"De Lord bless yer, horse, whar you be'n an' what you done wid young +missus?" Mary was now out on the porch.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Isham?"</p> + +<p>"For Gawd's sake, come hyar, missy. Dis hyar fool horse done come erlong +back 'thout young missus, an' I spec' he done los' her out in de road +somewhar—" Mary caught sight of the dress and bonnet and greatly +alarmed drew them out. What could have happened? Why was Annie's bonnet +and clothing in the buggy? For an instant her heart stood still.</p> + +<p>Her presence of mind soon returned. Her mother had retired, and so, +putting the maid on guard, she came out and with Isham beside her, +turned the horse's head back toward the city. But as mile after mile +passed nothing explained the mystery. There was no dark form by the +roadside. At no place did the intelligent animal scent blood and turn +aside. It was likely that Annie had gone to spend the night with a +friend, as she declared she would if the hour were too late to enter the +jail. But the clothing!</p> + +<p>The girl drove within sight of the prison, but could not bring herself, +at that hour, to stop there. She passed on to Annie's friends. She had +not been there. She tried others with no better success. And now, +thoroughly convinced that something terrible had occurred, she drove on +to Ilexhurst. As the tired mare climbed the hill and Mary saw the light +shining from the upper window, she began to realize that the situation +was not very much improved. After all, Annie's disappearance might be +easily explained and how she would sneer at her readiness to run to Mr. +Morgan! It was the thought of a very young girl.</p> + +<p>But it was too late to turn back. She drew rein before the iron gate and +boldly entered, leaving Isham with the vehicle. She rapidly traversed +the walk, ascended the steps and was reaching out for the knocker, when +the door was suddenly thrown open and a man ran violently against her. +She was almost hurled to the ground, but frightened as she was, it was +evident that the accidental meeting had affected the other more. He +staggered back into the hall and stood irresolute and white with terror. +She came forward amazed and only half believing the testimony of her +senses.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Royson!" The man drew a deep breath and put his hand upon a chair, +nodding his head. He had for the moment lost the power of speech.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" she asked. "Why are you—here? Where is Mr. +Morgan?" His ghastliness returned. He wavered above the chair and then +sank into it. Then he turned his face toward hers in silence. She read +something there, as in a book. She did not cry out, but went and caught +his arm and hung above him with white face. "You have not—oh, no, you +have not—" She could say no more. She caught his hand and looked dumbly +upon it. The man drew it away violently as the horror of memory came +upon him.</p> + +<p>"Not that way!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Ah, not that way! Speak to me, Mr. Royson—tell me you do not mean +it—he is not——" The whisper died out in that dim hall. He turned his +face away a moment and then looked back. Lifting his hand he pointed up +the stairway. She left him and staggered up the steps slowly, painfully, +holding by the rail; weighed upon by the horror above and the horror +below. Near the top she stopped and looked back; the man was watching +her as if fascinated. She went on; he arose and followed her. He found +her leaning against the door afraid to enter; her eyes riveted upon a +form stretched upon the bed, a cloth over its face; a strange sweet odor +in the air. He came and paused by her side, probably insane, for he was +smiling now.</p> + +<p>"Behold the bridegroom," he said. "Go to him; he is not dead. He has +been waiting for you. Why are you so late?" She heard only two words +clearly. "Not dead!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," he laughed; "not dead. He only sleeps, with a cloth and +chloroform upon his face. He is not dead!" With a movement swift as a +bounding deer, she sprang across the room, seized the cloth and hurled +it from the window. She added names that her maiden cheeks would have +paled at, and pressed her face to his, kissing the still and silent lips +and moaning piteously.</p> + +<p>The man at the door drew away suddenly, went to the stairway and passed +down. No sound was heard now in the house except the moaning of the girl +upstairs. He put on a hat in the hall below, closed the door cautiously +and prepared to depart as he had come, when again he paused irresolute. +Then he drew from his pocket a crumpled paper and read it. And there, +under that one jet which fell upon him in the great hall, something was +born that night in the heart of Amos Royson—something that proved him +for the moment akin to the gods. The girl had glided down the steps and +was fleeing past him for succor. He caught her arm.</p> + +<p>"Wait," he said gently. "I will help you!" She ceased to struggle and +looked appealingly into his face. "I have not much to say, but it is for +eternity. The man upstairs is now in no immediate danger. Mary, I have +loved you as I did not believe myself capable of loving anyone. It is +the glorious spot in the desert of my nature. I have been remorseless +with men; it all seemed war to me, a war of Ishmaelites—civilized war +is an absurdity. Had you found anything in me to love, I believe it +would have made me another man, but you did not. And none can blame you. +To-night, for every kind word you have spoken to Amos Royson, for the +note you sent him to-day, he will repay you a thousandfold. Come with +me." He half-lifted her up the steps and to the room of the sleeper. +Then wringing out wet towels he bathed the face and neck of the +unconscious man, rubbed the cold wrists and feet and forced cold water +into the mouth. It was a doubtful half-hour, but at last the sleeper +stirred and moaned. Then Royson paused.</p> + +<p>"He will awaken presently. Give me half an hour to get into a batteau on +the river and then you may tell him all. That—" he said, after a pause, +looking out of the window, through which was coming the distant clamor +of bells—"that indicates that Annie has waked and screamed. And now +good-by. I could have taken your lover's life." He picked up the picture +from the table, kissed it once and passed out.</p> + +<p>Mary was alone with her lover. Gradually under her hand consciousness +came back and he realized that the face in the light by him was not of +dreams but of life itself—that life which, but for her and the +gentleness of her woman's heart, would have passed out that night at +Ilexhurst.</p> + +<p>And as he drifted back again into consciousness under the willows of the +creeping river a little boat drifted toward the sea.</p> + +<p>Dawn was upon the eastern hills when Mary, with her rescued +sister-in-law, crept noiselessly into The Hall. It was in New York that +the latter read the account of her mortification. Norton was not there. +She had passed him in her flight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV" id="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV.</h2> + +<h3>THE UNOPENED LETTER.</h3> + + +<p>Soon it became known that Col. Montjoy had gone to his final judgment. +Then came the old friends of his young manhood out of their retreats; +the country for twenty miles about gave them up to the occasion. They +brought with them all that was left of the old times—courtesy, sympathy +and dignity.</p> + +<p>There were soldiers among them, and here and there an empty sleeve and a +scarred face. There was simply one less in their ranks. Another would +follow, and another; the morrow held the mystery for the next.</p> + +<p>Norton had returned. He was violently affected, after the fashion of +mercurial temperaments. On Edward by accident had fallen the +arrangements for the funeral, and with the advice of the general he had +managed them well. Fate seemed to make him a member of that household in +spite of himself.</p> + +<p>The general was made an honorary pall-bearer, and when the procession +moved at last into the city and to the church, without forethought it +fell to Edward—there was no one else—to support and sustain the +daughter of the house. It seemed a matter of course that he should do +this, and as they followed the coffin up the aisle, between the two +ranks of people gathered there, the fact was noted in silence to be +discussed later. This then, read the universal verdict, was the sequel +of a romance.</p> + +<p>But Edward thought of none of these things. The loving heart of the girl +was convulsed with grief. Since childhood she had been the idol of her +father, and between them had never come a cloud. To her that +white-haired father represented the best of manhood. Edward almost +lifted her to and from the carriage, and her weight was heavy upon his +arm as they followed the coffin.</p> + +<p>But the end came; beautiful voices had lifted the wounded hearts to +heaven and the minister had implored its benediction upon them. The +soul-harrowing sound of the clay upon the coffin had followed and all +was over.</p> + +<p>Edward found himself alone in the carriage with Mary, and the ride was +long. He did not know how to lead the troubled mind away from its horror +and teach it to cling to the unchanging rocks of faith. The girl had +sunk down behind her veil in the corner of the coach; her white hands +lay upon her lap. He took these in his own firm clasp and held them +tightly. It seemed natural that he should; she did not withdraw them; +she may not have known it.</p> + +<p>And so they came back home to where the brave little wife, who had +promised "though He slay me yet will I trust in Him," sat among the +shadows keeping her promise. The first shock had passed and after that +the faith and serene confidence of the woman were never disturbed. She +would have died at the stake the same way.</p> + +<p>The days that followed were uneventful, Norton had recovered his +composure as suddenly as he had lost it, and discussed the situation +freely. There was now no one to manage the place and he could not +determine what was to be done. In the meantime he was obliged to return +to business, and look after his wife. He went first to Edward and +thanking him for his kindness to mother and sister, hurried back to New +York. Edward had spent one more day with the Montjoys at Norton's +request, and now he, too, took his departure.</p> + +<p>When Edward parted from Mary and the blind mother he had recourse to his +sternest stoicism to restrain himself. He escaped an awkward situation +by promising to be gone only two days before coming again. At home he +found Virdow philosophically composed and engaged in the library, a new +servant having been provided, and everything proceeding smoothly. Edward +went to him and said, abruptly:</p> + +<p>"When is it your steamer sails, Herr Virdow?"</p> + +<p>"One week from to-day," said that individual, not a little surprised at +his friend's manner. "Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because I go with you, never again in all likelihood to enter America. +From to-day, then, you will excuse my absences. I have many affairs to +settle."</p> + +<p>Virdow heard him in silence, but presently he asked:</p> + +<p>"Are you not satisfied now, Edward."</p> + +<p>"I am satisfied that I am the son of Marion Evan, but I will have +undoubted and unmistakable proof before I set foot in this community +again! There is little chance to obtain it. Nearly thirty years—it is a +long time, and the back trail is covered up."</p> + +<p>"What are your plans?"</p> + +<p>"To employ the best detectives the world can afford, and give them carte +blanche."</p> + +<p>"But why this search? Is it not better to rest under your belief and +take life quietly? There are many new branches of science and +philosophy—you have a quick mind, you are young—why not come with me +and put aside the mere details of existence? There are greater truths +worth knowing, Edward, than the mere truth of one's ancestry." Edward +looked long and sadly into his face and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"These mere facts," he said at length, "mean everything with me." He +went to his room; there were hours of silence and then Virdow heard in +the stillness of the old house the sound of Gerald's violin, for +Edward's had been left in Mary's care. His philosophy could not resist +the Fatherland appeal that floated down the great hall and filled the +night with weird and tender melody. For the man who played worshipped as +he drew the bow.</p> + +<p>But silence came deep over Ilexhurst and Virdow slept. Not so Edward; he +was to begin his great search that night. He went to the wing-room and +the glass-room and flooded them with light. A thrill struck through him +as he surveyed again the scene and seemed to see the wild face of his +comrade pale in death upon the divan. There under that rod still +pointing significantly down to the steel disk he had died. And outside +in the darkness had Rita also died. He alone was left. The drama could +not be long now. There was but one actor.</p> + +<p>He searched among all the heaps of memoranda and writings upon the desk. +They were memoranda and notes upon experiments and queries. Edward +touched them one by one to the gas jet and saw them flame and blacken +into ashes, and now nothing was left but the portfolio—and that +contained but four pictures—the faces of Slippery Dick, himself and +Mary and the strange scene at the church. One only was valuable—the +face of the girl which he knew he had given to the artist upon the tune +he had played. This one he took, and restored the others.</p> + +<p>He had turned out the light in the glass-room, and was approaching the +jet in the wing-room to extinguish it, when upon the mantel he saw a +letter which bore the address "H. Abingdon, care John Morgan," unopened. +How long it had been there no one was left to tell. The postman, weary +of knocking, had probably brought it around to the glass-room; or the +servant had left it with Gerald. It was addressed by a woman's hand and +bore the postmark of Paris, with the date illegible. It was a hurried +note:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Dear Friend: What has happened? When you were called home so +suddenly, you wrote me that you had important news to +communicate if you could overcome certain scruples, and that +you would return immediately, or as soon as pressing litigation +involving large interests was settled, and in your postscript +you added 'keep up your courage.' You may imagine how I have +waited and watched, and read and reread the precious note. But +months have passed and I have not heard from you. Are you ill? +I will come to you. Are you still at work upon my interests? +Write to me and relieve the strain and anxiety. I would not +hurry you, but remember it is a mother who waits. Yours,</p> + +<p>"Cambia."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Cambia!" Edward repeated the name aloud. Cambia. A flood of thoughts +rushed over him. What was Cambia—John Morgan to him? The veil was +lifting. And then came a startling realization. Cambia, the wife of +Gaspard Levigne!</p> + +<p>"God in heaven," he said, fervently, "help me now!" Virdow was gone; +only the solemn memories of the room kept him company. He sank upon the +divan and buried his face in his hands. If Cambia was the woman, then +the man who had died in his arms—the exile, the iron-scarred, but +innocent, convict, the hero who passed in silence—was her husband! And +he? The great musician had given him not only the violin but genius! +Cambia had begged of his dying breath proofs of marriage. The paling +lips had moved to reply in vain.</p> + +<p>The mystery was laid bare; the father would not claim him, because of +his scars, and the mother—she dared not look him in the face with the +veil lifted! But he would face her; he would know the worst; nothing +could be more terrible than the mystery that was crushing the better +side of his life and making hope impossible. He would face her and +demand the secret.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI" id="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI.</h2> + +<h3>"WOMAN, WHAT WAS HE TO YOU?"</h3> + + +<p>Edward had formed a definite determination and made his arrangements at +once. There had been a coolness between him and Eldridge since the +publication of the Royson letter, but necessity drove him to that lawyer +to conclude his arrangements for departure. It was a different man that +entered the lawyer's office this time. He gave directions for the +disposition of Ilexhurst and the conversion of other property into cash. +He would never live on the place again under any circumstances.</p> + +<p>His business was to be managed by the old legal firm in New York.</p> + +<p>The memoranda was completed and he took his departure.</p> + +<p>He had given orders for flowers and ascertained by telephone that they +were ready. At 3 o'clock he met Mary driving in and took his seat beside +her in the old family carriage. Her dress of black brought out the pale, +sweet face in all its beauty. She flushed slightly as he greeted her. +Within the vehicle were only the few roses she had been able to gather, +with cedar and euonymus. But they drove by a green house and he filled +the carriage with the choicest productions of the florist, and then gave +the order to the driver to proceed at once to the cemetery.</p> + +<p>Within the grounds, where many monuments marked the last resting-place +of the old family, was the plain newly made mound covering the remains +of friend and father. At sight if it Mary's calmness disappeared and her +grief overran its restraints. Edward stood silent, his face averted.</p> + +<p>Presently he thought of the flowers and brought them to her. In the +arrangement of these the bare sod disappeared and the girl's grief was +calmed. She lingered long about the spot, and before she left it knelt +in silent prayer, Edward lifting his hat and waiting with bowed head.</p> + +<p>The sad ceremony ended, she looked to him and he led the way to where +old Isham waited with the carriage. He sent him around toward Gerald's +grave, under a wide-spreading live oak, while they went afoot by the +direct way impassable for vehicles. They reached the parapet and would +have crossed it, when they saw kneeling at the head of the grave a woman +dressed in black, seemingly engaged in prayer.</p> + +<p>Edward had caused to be placed above the remains a simple marble slab, +which bore the brief inscription:</p> + +<h4>GERALD MORGAN.<br /> +Died 1888.</h4> + +<p>They watched until the woman arose and laid a wreath upon the slab. When +at last she turned her face and surveyed the scene they saw before them, +pale and grief-stricken, Cambia. Edward felt the scene whirling about +him and his tongue paralyzed. Cambia, at sight of them gave way again to +a grief that had left her pale and haggard, and could only extend the +free hand, while with the other she sought to conceal her face. Edward +came near, his voice scarcely audible.</p> + +<p>"Cambia!" he exclaimed in wonder; "Cambia!" she nodded her head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, wretched, unhappy Cambia!"</p> + +<p>"Then, madame," he said, with deep emotion, pointing to the grave and +touching her arm, "what was he to you?" She looked him fairly in the +face from streaming eyes.</p> + +<p>"He was my son! It cannot harm him now. Alas, poor Cambia!"</p> + +<p>"Your son!" The man gazed about him bewildered. "Your son, madame? You +are mistaken! It cannot be!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed; "how little you know. It can be—it is true!"</p> + +<p>"It cannot be; it cannot be!" the words of the horrified man were now a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Do you think a mother does not know her offspring? Your talk is idle; +Gerald Morgan was my son. I have known, John Morgan knew——"</p> + +<p>"But Rita," he said, piteously.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Rita, poor Rita, she could not know!"</p> + +<p>The manner, the words, the tone overwhelmed him. He turned to Mary for +help in his despair. Almost without sound she had sunk to the grass and +now lay extended at full length. With a fierce exclamation Edward rushed +to her and lifted the little figure in his arms. Cambia was at his side.</p> + +<p>"What is this? What was she to him?" some explanation was necessary and +Edward's presence of mind returned.</p> + +<p>"He loved her," he said. The face of Cambia grew soft and tender and she +spread her wrap on the rustic bench.</p> + +<p>"Place her here and bring water. Daughter," she exclaimed, kneeling by +her side, "come, come, this will never do—" The girl's eyes opened and +for a moment rested in wonder upon Cambia. Then she remembered. A +strange expression settled upon her face as she gazed quickly upon +Edward.</p> + +<p>"Take me home, madame," she said; "take me home. I am deathly ill."</p> + +<p>They carried her to the carriage, and, entering, Cambia took the little +head in her lap. Shocked and now greatly alarmed, Edward gave orders to +the driver and entered. It was a long and weary ride, and all the time +the girl lay silent and speechless in Cambia's lap, now and then turning +upon Edward an indescribable look that cut him to the heart.</p> + +<p>They would have provided for her in the city, but she would not hear of +it. Her agitation became so great that Edward finally directed the +driver to return to The Hall. All the way back the older woman murmured +words of comfort and cheer, but the girl only wept and her slender form +shook with sobs. And it was not for herself that she grieved.</p> + +<p>And so they came to the house, and Mary, by a supreme effort, was able +to walk with assistance and to enter without disturbing the household. +Cambia supported her as they reached the hall to the room that had been +Mary's all her life—the room opposite her mother's. There in silence +she assisted the girl to the bed. From somewhere came Molly, the maid, +and together using the remedies that women know so well they made her +comfortable. No one in the house had been disturbed, and then as Mary +slept Cambia went out and found her way to the side of Mrs. Montjoy and +felt the bereaved woman's arms about her.</p> + +<p>"You have reconsidered, and wisely," said Mrs. Montjoy, when the first +burst of emotion was over. "I am glad you have come—where is Mary?"</p> + +<p>"She was fatigued from the excitement and long drive and is in her room. +I met her in town and came with her. But madame, think not of me; you +are now the sufferer; my troubles are old. But you—what can I say to +comfort you?"</p> + +<p>"I am at peace, my child; God's will be done. When you can say that you +will not feel even the weight of your sorrows. Life is not long, at +best, and mine must necessarily be short. Some day I will see again." +Cambia bowed her head until it rested upon the hand that clasped hers. +In the presence of such trust and courage she was a child.</p> + +<p>"My daughter," said Mrs. Montjoy, after a silence, her mind reverting to +her visitor's remark; "she is not ill?"</p> + +<p>"Not seriously, madame, but still she is not well."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go to her if you will lend me your aid. I am not yet +accustomed to finding my way. I suppose I will have no trouble after a +while." The strong arm of the younger woman clasped and guided her upon +the little journey, and the mother took the place of the maid. Tea was +brought to them and in the half-lighted room they sat by the now +sleeping figure on the bed, and whispered of Cambia's past and future. +The hours passed. The house had grown still and Molly had been sent to +tell Edward of the situation and give him his lamp.</p> + +<p>But Edward was not alone. The general had ridden over to inquire after +his neighbors and together they sat upon the veranda and talked, and +Edward listened or seemed to listen. The rush of thoughts, the +realization that had come over him at the cemetery, now that necessity +for immediate action had passed with his charge, returned. Cambia had +been found weeping over her son, and that son was Gerald. True or +untrue, it was fatal to him if Cambia was convinced.</p> + +<p>But it could not be less than true; he, Edward, was an outcast upon the +face of the earth; his dream was over; through these bitter reflections +the voice of the general rose and fell monotonously, as he spoke +feelingly of the dead friend whom he had known since childhood and told +of their long associations and adventures in the war. And then, as +Edward sought to bring himself back to the present, he found himself +growing hot and cold and his heart beating violently; the consequences +of the revelation made in the cemetery had extended no further than +himself and his own people, but Cambia was Marion Evan! And her father +was there, by him, ignorant that in the house was the daughter dead to +him for more than a quarter of a century. He could not control an +exclamation. The speaker paused and looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Did you speak?" The general waited courteously.</p> + +<p>"Did I? It must have been involuntarily—a habit! You were saying that +the colonel led his regiment at Malvern Hill." Evan regarded him +seriously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I mentioned that some time ago. He was wounded and received the +praise of Jackson as he was borne past him. I think Montjoy considered +that the proudest moment of his life. When Jackson praised a man he was +apt to be worthy of it. He praised me once," he said, half-smiling over +the scene in mind.</p> + +<p>But Edward had again lost the thread of the narrative. Cambia had +returned; a revelation would follow; the general would meet his +daughter, and over the grave of Gerald the past would disappear from +their lives. What was to become of him? He remembered that John Morgan +had corresponded with her, and communicated personally. She must know +his history. In the coming denouement there would be a shock for him. He +would see these friends torn from him, not harshly nor unkindly, but +between them and him would fall the iron rule of caste, which has never +been broken in the south—the race law, which no man can override. With +something like a panic within he decided at once. He would not witness +the meeting. He would give them no chance to touch him by sympathetic +pity and by—aversion. It should all come to him by letter, while he was +far away! His affairs were in order. The next day he would be gone.</p> + +<p>"General," he said, "will you do me a favor? I must return to the city; +my coming was altogether a matter of accident, and I am afraid it will +inconvenience our friends here at this time to send me back. Let me have +your horse and I will send him to you in the morning."</p> + +<p>The abrupt interruption filled the old man with surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, if you must go. But I thought you had no idea of +returning—is it imperative?"</p> + +<p>"Imperative. I am going away from the city to-morrow, and there are yet +matters—you understand, and Virdow is expecting me. I trust it will not +inconvenience you greatly. It would be well, probably, if one of us +stayed to-night; this sudden illness—the family's condition——"</p> + +<p>"Inconvenience! Nonsense! If you must go, why, the horse is yours of +course as long as you need him." But still perplexed the general waited +in silence for a more definite explanation. Edward was half-facing the +doorway and the lighted hall was exposed to him, but the shadow of the +porch hid him from anyone within. It was while they sat thus that the +old man felt a hand upon his arm and a grasp that made him wince. +Looking up he saw the face of his companion fixed on some object in the +hall, the eyes starting from their sockets. Glancing back he became the +witness of a picture that almost caused his heart to stand still.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII" id="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII.</h2> + +<h3>FRAGMENTARY LIFE RECORDS.</h3> + + +<p>The records of John Morgan's life are fragmentary. It was only by +joining the pieces and filling in the gaps that his friends obtained a +clear and rounded conception of his true character and knew at last the +real man.</p> + +<p>Born about 1820, the only son of a wealthy and influential father, his +possibilities seemed almost unlimited. To such a youth the peculiar +system of the South gave advantages not at that time afforded by any +other section. The South was approaching the zenith of its power; its +slaves did the field work of the whole people, leaving their owners +leisure for study, for travel and for display. Politics furnished the +popular field for endeavor; young men trained to the bar, polished by +study and foreign travel and inspired by lofty ideals of government, +threw themselves into public life, with results that have become now a +part of history.</p> + +<p>At 22, John Morgan was something more than a mere promise. He had +graduated with high honors at the Virginia University and returning home +had engaged in the practice of law—his maiden speech, delivered in a +murder case, winning for him a wide reputation. But at that critical +period a change came over him. To the surprise of his contemporaries he +neglected his growing practice, declined legislative honors and +gradually withdrew to the quiet of Ilexhurst, remaining in strict +retirement with his mother.</p> + +<p>The life of this gentlewoman had never been a very happy one; refined +and delicate she was in sharp contrast to her husband, who, from the +handsome, darkhaired gallant she first met at the White Sulphur Springs, +soon developed into a generous liver, with a marked leaning towards +strong drink, fox-hunting and cards. As the wife, in the crucible of +life, grew to pure gold, the grosser pleasures developed the elder +Morgan out of all likeness to the figure around which clung her girlish +memories.</p> + +<p>But Providence had given to her a boy, and in him there was a promise of +happier days. He grew up under her care, passionately devoted to the +beautiful mother, and his triumphs at college and at the bar brought +back to her something of the happiness she had known in dreams only.</p> + +<p>The blow had come with the arrival of Rita Morgan's mother. From that +time John Morgan devoted himself to the lonely wife, avoiding the +society of both sexes. His morbid imagination pictured his mother and +himself as disgraced in the eyes of the public, unconscious of the fact +that the public had but little interest in the domestic situation at +Ilexhurst, and no knowledge of the truth. He lived his quiet life by her +side in the little room at home, and when at last, hurt by his horse, +the father passed away, he closed up the house and took his mother +abroad for a stay of several years. When they returned life went on very +much as before.</p> + +<p>But of the man who came back from college little was left, aside from an +indomitable will and a genius for work. He threw himself into the +practice of his profession again, with a feverish desire for occupation, +and, bringing to his aid a mind well stored by long years of reflection +and reading, soon secured a large and lucrative practice.</p> + +<p>His fancy was for the criminal law. No pains, no expense was too great +for him where a point was to be made. Some of his witnesses in noted +cases cost him for traveling expense and detectives double his fee. He +kept up the fight with a species of fierce joy, his only moments of +elation, as far as the public knew, being the moments of victory.</p> + +<p>So it was that at 40 years of age John Morgan found himself with a +reputation extending far beyond the state and with a practice that left +him but little leisure. It was about this time he accidentally met +Marion Evan, a mere girl, and felt the hidden springs of youth rise in +his heart. Marion Evan received the attentions of the great criminal +lawyer without suspicion of their meaning.</p> + +<p>When it developed that he was deeply interested in her she was +astonished and then touched. It was until the end a matter of wonder to +her that John Morgan should have found anything in her to admire and +love, but those who looked on knowingly were not surprised. Of gentle +ways and clinging, dependent nature, varied by flashes of her father's +fire and spirit, she presented those variable moods well calculated to +dazzle and impress a man of Morgan's temperament. He entered upon his +courtship with the same carefulness and determination that marked his +legal practice, and with the aid of his wealth and reborn eloquence +carried the citadel of her maiden heart by storm. With misgivings Albert +Evan yielded his consent.</p> + +<p>But Marion Evan's education was far from complete. The mature lover +wished his bride to have every accomplishment that could add to her +pleasure in life; he intended to travel for some years and she was not +at that time sufficiently advanced in the languages to interpret the +records of the past. Her art was of course rudimentary. Only in vocal +music was she distinguished; already that voice which was to develop +such surprising powers spoke its thrilling message to those who could +understand, and John Morgan was one of these.</p> + +<p>So it was determined that Marion should for one year at least devote +herself to study and then the marriage would take place. Where to send +her was the important question, and upon the decision hinges this +narrative.</p> + +<p>Remote causes shape our destinies. That summer John Morgan took his +mother abroad for the last time and in Paris chance gave him +acquaintance with Gaspard Levigne, a man nearly as old as himself. +Morgan had been touched and impressed by the unchanging sadness of a +face that daily looked into his at their hotel, but it is likely that he +would have carried it in memory for a few weeks only had not the owner, +who occupied rooms near his own, played the violin one night while he +sat dreaming of home and the young girl who had given him her promise. +He felt that the hidden musician was saying for him that which had been +crying out for expression in his heart all his life. Upon the impulse of +the moment he entered this stranger's room and extended his hand. +Gaspard Levigne took it. They were friends.</p> + +<p>During their stay in Paris the two men became almost inseparable +companions. One day Gaspard was in the parlor of his new friend, when +John Morgan uncovered upon the table a marble bust of his fiancee and +briefly explained the situation. The musician lifted it in wonder and +studied its perfections with breathless interest. From that time he +never tired of the beautiful face, but always his admiration was mute. +His lips seemed to lose their power.</p> + +<p>The climax came when John Morgan, entering the dim room one evening, +found Gaspard Levigne with his face in his hands kneeling before the +marble, convulsed with grief. And then little by little he told his +story. He was of noble blood, the elder son of a family, poor but proud +and exclusive. Unto him had descended, from an Italian ancestor, the +genius of musical composition and a marvelous technique, while his +brother seemed to inherit the pride and arrogance of the Silesian side +of the house, with about all the practical sense and business ability +that had been won and transmitted.</p> + +<p>He had fallen blindly in love with a young girl beneath him in the +social scale, and whose only dowry was a pure heart and singularly +perfect beauty. The discovery of this situation filled the family with +alarm and strenuous efforts were made to divert the infatuated man, but +without changing his purpose. Pressure was brought to bear upon the +girl's parents, with better success.</p> + +<p>Nothing now remained for Gaspard but an elopement, and this he planned. +He took his brother into his confidence and was pleased to find him +after many refusals a valuable second. The elopement took place and +assisted by the brother he came to Paris. There his wife had died +leaving a boy, then nearly two years old.</p> + +<p>Then came the denouement; the marriage arranged for him had been a +mockery.</p> + +<p>It was a fearful blow. He did not return to his home. Upon him had been +saddled the whole crime.</p> + +<p>When the story was ended Gaspard went to his room and brought back a +little picture of the girl, which he placed by the marble bust. Morgan +read his meaning there; the two faces seemed identical. The picture +would have stood for a likeness of Marion Evan, in her father's hands.</p> + +<p>The conduct of Gaspard Levigne upon the discovery of the cruel fraud was +such as won the instant sympathy of the American, whose best years had +been sacrificed for his mother. The musician had not returned to Breslau +and exposed the treachery of the brother who was the idol of his +parents; he suffered in silence and cared for the child in an +institution near Paris. But John Morgan went and quietly verified the +facts. He engaged the ablest counsel and did his best to find a way to +right the wrong.</p> + +<p>Then came good Mrs. Morgan, who took the waif to her heart. He passed +from his father's arms, his only inheritance a mother's picture, of +which his own face was the miniature.</p> + +<p>Months passed; Gaspard Levigne learned English readily, and one more +result of the meeting in Paris was that John Morgan upon returning to +America had, through influential friends, obtained for Levigne a +lucrative position in a popular American institution, where instrumental +and vocal music were specialties.</p> + +<p>It was to this institution that Marion Evan was sent, with results +already known.</p> + +<p>The shock to John Morgan, when he received from Marion a pitiful letter, +telling of her decision and marriage, well-nigh destroyed him. The mind +does not rally and reactions are uncertain at 40. In the moment of his +despair he had torn up her letters and hurled her likeness in marble far +out to the deepest part of the lake. Pride alone prevented him following +it. And in this hour of gloom the one remaining friend, his mother, +passed from life.</p> + +<p>The public never knew his sufferings; he drew the mantle of silence a +little closer around him and sank deeper into his profession. He soon +became known as well for his eccentricities as for his genius; and +presently the inherited tendency toward alcoholic drinks found him an +easy victim. Another crisis in his life came a year after the downfall +of his air castle, and just as the south was preparing to enter upon her +fatal struggle.</p> + +<p>The mother of Rita had passed away, and so had the young woman's +husband. Rita had but recently returned to Ilexhurst, when one night she +came into his presence drenched with rain and terrorized by the +fierceness of an electrical storm then raging. Speechless from +exhaustion and excitement she could only beckon him to follow. Upon the +bed in her room, out in the broad back yard, now sharing with its +occupant the mud and water of the highway, her face white and her +disordered hair clinging about her neck and shoulders, lay the +insensible form of the only girl he had ever loved—Marion Evan, as he +still thought of her. He approached the bed and lifted her cold hands +and called her by endearing names, but she did not answer him. Rita, the +struggle over had sunk into semi-consciousness upon the floor.</p> + +<p>When the family physician had arrived John Morgan had placed Rita upon +the bed and had borne the other woman in his arms to the mother's room +upstairs, and stood waiting at the door. While the genial old +practitioner was working to restore consciousness to the young woman +there, a summons several times repeated was heard at the front door. +Morgan went in person and admitted a stranger, who presented a card that +bore the stamp of a foreign detective bureau. Speaking in French the +lawyer gravely welcomed him and led the way to the library. The +detective opened the interview:</p> + +<p>"Have you received my report of the 14th inst., M. Morgan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. What have you additional?"</p> + +<p>"This. Mme. Levigne is with her husband and now in this city." Morgan +nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"So I have been informed." He went to the desk and wrote out a check. +"When do you purpose returning?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as possible, monsieur; to-morrow, if it pleases you."</p> + +<p>"I will call upon you in the morning; to-night I have company that +demands my whole time and attention. If I fail, here is your check. You +have been very successful."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is very kind. I have not lost sight of Mme. Levigne in nearly +a year until to-night. Both she and her husband have left their hotel; +temporarily only I presume." The two men shook hands and parted.</p> + +<p>Upstairs the physician met Morgan returning. "The lady will soon be all +right; she has rallied and as soon as she gets under the influence of +the opiate I have given and into dry clothes, will be out of danger. But +the woman in the servant's house is, I am afraid, in a critical +condition."</p> + +<p>"Go to her, please," said Morgan quickly. Then entering the room he took +a seat by the side of the young woman—her hand in his. Marion looked +upon his grave face in wonder and confusion. Neither spoke. Her eyes +closed at last in slumber.</p> + +<p>Then came Mamie Hester, the old woman who had nursed him, one of those +family servants of the old South, whose lips never learned how to betray +secrets.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The sun rose grandly on the morning that Marion left Ixlexhurst. She +pushed back her heavy veil, letting its splendor light up her pale face +and gave her hand in sad farewell to John Morgan. Its golden beams +almost glorified the countenance of the man; or was it the light from a +great soul shining through?</p> + +<p>"A mother's prayers," she said brokenly. "They are all that I can give."</p> + +<p>"God bless and protect you till we meet again," he said, gently.</p> + +<p>She looked long and sadly toward the eastern horizon in whose belt of +gray woodland lay her childhood home, lowered her veil and hurried away. +A generation would pass before her feet returned upon that gravel walk.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII" id="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII.</h2> + +<h3>"THE LAST SCENE OF ALL"</h3> + + +<p>Mary slept.</p> + +<p>The blind woman, who had for awhile sat silent by her side, slowly +stroking and smoothing the girl's extended arm, nodded, her chin resting +upon her breast.</p> + +<p>Cambia alone was left awake in the room, her mind busy with its past. +The light was strong; noiselessly she went to the little table to lower +it. There, before her, lay a violin's antique case. As her gaze fell +upon it, the flame sank under her touch, leaving the room almost in the +shadow. The box was rounded at the ends and inlaid, the central design +being a curiously interwoven monogram. Smothering an exclamation, she +seized it in her arms and listened, looking cautiously upon her +companions. The elder woman lifted her head and turned sightless eyes +toward the light, then passed into sleep again.</p> + +<p>She went back eagerly to the box and tried its intricate fastenings; but +in the dim light they resisted her fingers, and she dare not turn up the +flame again.</p> + +<p>From the veranda in front came the murmur of men's voices; the house was +silent. Bearing the precious burden Cambia went quickly to the hallway +and paused for a moment under the arch that divided it. Overhead, +suspended by an invisible wire, was a snow-white pigeon with wings +outspread; behind swayed in the gentle breeze the foliage of the trees. +She stood for a moment, listening; and such was the picture presented to +Edward as he clutched the arm of his companion and leaned forward with +strained eyes into the light.</p> + +<p>Guided by the adjuncts of the scene he recognized at once a familiar +dream. But in place of the girl's was now a woman's face.</p> + +<p>Another caught a deeper meaning at the same instant, as the general's +suppressed breathing betrayed.</p> + +<p>Cambia heard nothing; her face was pale, her hand trembling. In the +light descending upon her she found the secret fastenings and the lid +opened.</p> + +<p>Then the two men beheld a strange thing; the object of that nervous +action was not the violin itself. A string accidentally touched by her +sparkling ring gave out a single minor note that startled her, but only +for a second did she pause and look around. Pressing firmly upon a spot +near the inner side of the lid she drew out a little panel of wood and +from the shallow cavity exposed, lifted quickly several folded papers, +which she opened. Then, half rising, she wavered and sank back fainting +upon the floor. The silence was broken. A cry burst from the lips of the +old general.</p> + +<p>"Marion! My child." In an instant he was by her side lifting and +caressing her. "Speak to me, daughter," he said. "It has been long, so +long. That face, that face! Child, it is your mother's as I saw it last. +Marion, look up; it is I, your father." And then he exclaimed +despairingly, as she did not answer him, "She is dead!"</p> + +<p>"It is not serious, General," said Edward hurriedly. "See, she is +reviving." Cambia steadied herself by a supreme effort and thrust back +the form that was supporting her.</p> + +<p>"Who calls Marion?" she cried wildly. "Marion Evan is dead! Cambia is +dead! I am the Countess Levigne." Her voice rang out in the hall and her +clenched hand held aloft, as though she feared they might seize them, +the papers she had plucked from the violin case. Then her eyes met the +general's; she paused in wonder and looked longingly into his aged face. +Her voice sank to a whisper: "Father, father! Is it indeed you? You at +last?" Clinging to the hands extended toward her she knelt and buried +her face in them, her form shaking with sobs. The old man's tall figure +swayed and trembled.</p> + +<p>"Not there, Marion, my child, not there. 'Tis I who should kneel! God +forgive me, it was I who—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, father, hush! The blame was mine. But I have paid for it with +agony, with the better years of my life.</p> + +<p>"But I could not come back until I came as the wife of the man I loved; +I would not break your heart. See! I have the papers. It was my +husband's violin." She hid her face in his bosom and let the tears flow +unchecked.</p> + +<p>Edward was standing, white and silent, gazing upon the scene; he could +not tear himself away. The general, his voice unsteady, saw him at last. +A smile broke through his working features and shone in his tearful +eyes:</p> + +<p>"Edward, my boy, have you no word? My child has come home!" Marion +lifted her face and drew herself from the sheltering arms with sudden +energy.</p> + +<p>"Edward," she said, gently and lovingly. "Edward!" Her eyes grew softer +and seemed to caress him with their glances. She went up to him and +placed both hands upon his shoulders. "His child, and your mother!"</p> + +<p>"My mother, my mother!" The words were whispers. His voice seemed to +linger upon them.</p> + +<p>"Yes! Cambia, the unhappy Marion, the Countess Levigne and your mother! +No longer ashamed to meet you, no longer an exile! Your mother, free to +meet your eyes without fear of reproach!"</p> + +<p>She was drawing his cheek to hers as she spoke. The general had come +nearer and now she placed the young man's hand in his.</p> + +<p>"But," said Edward, "Gerald! You called him your son!" She clasped her +hands over her eyes and turned away quickly. "How can it be? Tell me the +truth?" She looked back to him then in a dazed way. Finally a suspicion +of his difficulty came to her. "He was your twin brother. Did you not +know? Alas, poor Gerald!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the old man, "it was then true!"</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said softly, lifting her face to his, "Gerald is at peace. +Let me fulfill all the hopes you cherished for both!"</p> + +<p>"God has showered blessings upon me this night," said the general +brokenly. "Edward!" The two men clasped hands and looked into each +other's eyes. And, radiant by their side, was the face of Cambia!</p> + +<p>At this moment, Mary, who had been awakened by their excited voices, her +hand outstretched toward the wall along which she had crept, came and +stood near them, gazing in wonder upon their beaming faces. With a bound +Edward reached her side and with an arm about her came to Cambia.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said, "here is your daughter." As Cambia clasped her +lovingly to her bosom he acquainted Mary with what had occurred. And +then, happy in her wonder and smiles, Edward and Mary turned away and +discussed the story with the now fully awakened little mother.</p> + +<p>"And now," said he, "I can ask of you this precious life and be your son +indeed!" Mary's head was in her mother's lap.</p> + +<p>"She has loved you a long time, Edward; she is already yours."</p> + +<p>Presently he went upon the veranda, where father and daughter were +exchanging holy confidences, and, sitting by his mother's side, heard +the particulars of her life and bitter experience abroad.</p> + +<p>"When Mr. Morgan went to you, father, and stated a hypothetical case and +offered to find me, and you, outraged, suffering, declared that I could +only return when I had proofs of my marriage, I was without them. Mr. +Morgan sent me money to pay our expenses home—Gaspard's and mine—and +we did come, he unwilling and fearing violence, for dissipation had +changed his whole nature. Then, he had been informed of my one-time +engagement to Mr. Morgan, and he was well acquainted with that gentleman +and indebted to him for money loaned upon several occasions. He came to +America with me upon Mr. Morgan's guaranty, the sole condition imposed +upon him being that he should bring proofs of our marriage; and had he +continued to rely upon that guaranty, had he kept his word, there would +have been no trouble. But on the day we reached this city he gave way to +temptation again and remembered all my threats to leave him. In our +final interview he became suddenly jealous, and declared there was a +plot to separate us, and expressed a determination to destroy the +proofs.</p> + +<p>"It was then that I determined to act, and hazarded everything upon a +desperate move. I resolved to seize my husband's violin, not knowing +where his papers were, and hold it as security for my proofs. I thought +the plan would succeed; did not his love for that instrument exceed all +other passions? I had written to Rita, engaging to meet her on a certain +night at a livery stable, where we were to take a buggy and proceed to +Ilexhurst. The storm prevented. Gaspard had followed me, and at the +church door tore the instrument from my arms and left me insensible. +Rita carried me in her strong arms three miles to Ilexhurst, and it cost +her the life of the child that was born and died that night.</p> + +<p>"Poor, poor Rita! She herself had been all but dead when my boys were +born a week later, and the idea that one of them was her own was the +single hallucination of her mind. The boys were said to somewhat +resemble her. Rita's mother bore a strong resemblance to Mrs. Morgan's +family, as you have perhaps heard, and Mrs. Morgan was related to our +family, so the resemblance may be explained in that way. Mr. Morgan +never could clear up this hallucination of Rita's, and so the matter +rested that way. It could do no harm under the circumstances, and +might—"</p> + +<p>"No harm?" Edward shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"No harm. You, Edward, were sent away, and it was early seen that poor +Gerald would be delicate and probably an invalid. For my troubles, my +flight, had—. The poor woman gave her life to the care of my children. +Heaven bless her forever!"</p> + +<p>Gambia waited in silence a moment and then continued:</p> + +<p>"As soon as I could travel I made a business transaction of it, and +borrowed of my friend, John Morgan. He had acquainted me with the +conditions upon which I should be received at home; and now it was +impossible for me to meet them. Gaspard was gone. I thought I could find +him; I never did, until blind, poor, aged and dying, he sent for me."</p> + +<p>"John Morgan was faithful. He secured vocal teachers for me in Paris and +then an engagement to sing in public. I sang, and from that night my +money troubles ended.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morgan stayed by me in Paris until my career was assured. Then, in +obedience to his country's call he came back here, running the blockade, +and fought up to Appomattox."</p> + +<p>"As gallant a fire-eater," said the general, "as ever shouldered a gun. +And he refused promotion on three occasions."</p> + +<p>"I can readily understand that," said Cambia. "His modesty was only +equaled by his devotion and courage.</p> + +<p>"He visited me again when the war ended, and we renewed the search. +After that came the Franco-Prussian war, the siege of Paris and the +commune, destroying all trails. But I sang on and searched on. When I +seemed to have exhausted the theaters I tried the prisons. And so the +years passed by.</p> + +<p>"In the meantime Mr. Morgan had done a generous thing; never for a +moment did he doubt me." She paused, struggling with a sudden emotion, +and then: "He had heard my statement—it was not like writing, Father, +he had heard it from my lips—and when the position of my boys became +embarrassing he gave them his own name, formally adopting them while he +was in Paris."</p> + +<p>"God bless him!" It was the general's voice.</p> + +<p>"And after that I felt easier. Every week, in all the long years that +have passed, brought me letters; every detail in their lives was known +to me; and of yours, Father. I knew all your troubles. Mr. Morgan +managed it. And," she continued softly, "I felt your embarrassments when +the war ended. Mr. Morgan offered you a loan—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I could not accept from him—"</p> + +<p>"It was from me, Father; it was mine; and it was my money that cared for +my boys. Yes," she said, lifting her head proudly, "Mr. Morgan +understood; he let me pay back everything, and when he died it was my +money, held in private trust by him, that constituted the bulk of the +fortune left by him for my boys. I earned it before the footlights, but +honestly!</p> + +<p>"Well, when poor Gaspard died—"</p> + +<p>"He is dead, then?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! of course you do not know. To-morrow I will tell you his story. I +stood by his body and at his grave, and I knew Edward. I had seen him +many times. Poor Gerald! My eyes have never beheld him since I took him +in my arms that day, a baby, and kissed him good—" She broke down and +wept bitterly. "Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful!"</p> + +<p>After awhile she lifted her face.</p> + +<p>"My husband had written briefly to his family just before death, the +letter to be mailed after; and thus they knew of it. But they did not +know the name he was living under. His brother, to inherit the title and +property, needed proof of death and advertised in European papers for +it. He also advertised for the violin. It was this that suggested to me +the hiding place of the missing papers. Before my marriage Gaspard had +once shown me the little slide. It had passed from my memory. But +Cambia's wits were sharper and the description supplied the link. I went +to Silesia and made a trade with the surviving brother, giving up my +interest in certain mines for the name of the person who held the +violin. Gaspard had described him to me in his letter as a young +American named Morgan. The name was nothing to the brother; it was +everything to me. I came here determined, first to search for the +papers, and, failing in that, to go home to you, my father. God has +guided me."</p> + +<p>She sat silent, one hand in her father's, the other clasped lovingly in +her son's. It was a silence none cared to break. But Edward, from time +to time, as his mind reviewed the past, lifted tenderly to his lips the +hand of Cambia.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Steadily the ocean greyhound plowed its way through the dark swells of +the Atlantic. A heavy bank of clouds covered the eastern sky almost to +the zenith, its upper edges paling in the glare of the full moon slowly +ascending beyond.</p> + +<p>The night was pleasant, the decks crowded. A young man and a young woman +sat by an elderly lady, hand in hand. They had been talking of a journey +made the year previous upon the same vessel, when the ocean sang a new +sweet song. They heard it again this night and were lost in dreams, when +the voice of a well-known novelist, who was telling a story to a charmed +circle, broke in:</p> + +<p>"It was my first journey upon the ocean. We had been greatly interested +in the little fellow because he was a waif from the great Parisian +world, and although at that time tenderly cared for by the gentle woman +who had become his benefactress, somehow he seemed to carry with him +another atmosphere, of loneliness—of isolation. Think of it, a +motherless babe afloat upon the ocean. It was the pathos of life made +visible. He did not realize it, but every heart there beat in sympathy +with his, and when it was whispered that the little voyager was dead, I +think every eye was wet with tears. Dead, almost consumed by fever. With +him had come the picture of a young and beautiful woman. He took it with +him beneath the little hands upon his breast. That night he was laid to +rest. Never had motherless babe such a burial. Gently, as though there +were danger of waking him, we let him sink into the dark waters, there +to be rocked in the lap of the ocean until God's day dawns and the seas +give up their dead. That was thirty years ago; yet to-night I seem to +see that little shrouded form slip down and down and down into the +depths. God grant that its mother was dead."</p> + +<p>When he ceased the elder woman in the little group had bent her head and +was silently weeping.</p> + +<p>"It sounds like a page from the early life of Gaspard Levigne," she said +to her companions.</p> + +<p>And then to the novelist, in a voice brimming over with tenderness: +"Grieve not for the child, my friend. God has given wings to love. There +is no place in all His universe that can hide a baby from its mother. +Love will find a way, be the ocean as wide and deep as eternity itself."</p> + +<p>And then, as they sat wondering, the moon rose above the clouds. Light +flashed upon the waves around them, and a golden path, stretching out +ahead, crossed the far horizon into the misty splendors of the sky.</p> + + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Writings of Harry Stillwell Edwards</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Two Runaways" and other stories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"His Defense" and other stories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The Marbeau Cousins"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sons and Fathers"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Eneas Africanus"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Eneas Africanus, Defendant"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Just Sweethearts"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How Sal Came Through"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Brother Sim's Mistake"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Isam's Spectacles"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The Adventures of a Parrot"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Shadow"—A Christmas Story<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The Vulture and His Shadow"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"On the Mount"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Mam'selle Delphine"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><i>Others of Our Interesting Books</i> Not by Edwards</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Another Miracle," by John D. Spencer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"July"—A sketch of a real negro, by Bridges Smith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Sam Simple's First Trip to New Orleans"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"B-Flat Barto"—A Saturday Evening Post Story<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Big-Foot Wallace"—A Texas Story<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Young Marooners," for boys and girls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Marooner's Island," for boys and girls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Reminiscences of Sidney Lanier," by George Herbert Clarke<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONS AND FATHERS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 36112-h.txt or 36112-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/1/1/36112">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/1/36112</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Sons and Fathers + + +Author: Harry Stillwell Edwards + + + +Release Date: May 14, 2011 [eBook #36112] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONS AND FATHERS*** + + +E-text prepared by Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by +Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/sonsandfathers00edwaiala + + + + + +SONS AND FATHERS + +by + +HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS. + + + + + + + +Published by +The J. W. Burke Company +Macon, Georgia + +The First-Prize Story +In The Chicago Record's series of "Stories of Mystery" + +This story--out of 816 competing--was awarded the FIRST +PRIZE--$10,000--in The Chicago Record's "$30,000 +to Authors" competition. + +Copyright 1896, by Harry Stillwell Edwards. +Copyright 1921, by Harry Stillwell Edwards. + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER I. TWO SONS. + CHAPTER II. THE STRANGER ON THE THRESHOLD. + CHAPTER III. A BREATH FROM THE OLD SOUTH. + CHAPTER IV. THE MOTHER'S ROOM. + CHAPTER V. THE STRANGER IN THE LIBRARY. + CHAPTER VI. "WHO SAYS THERE CAN BE A 'TOO LATE' FOR THE + IMMORTAL MIND?" + CHAPTER VII. "BACK! WOULD YOU MURDER HER?" + CHAPTER VIII. ON THE BACK TRAIL. + CHAPTER IX. THE TRAGEDY IN THE STORM. + CHAPTER X. "GOD PITY ME! GOD PITY ME!" + CHAPTER XI. IN THE CRIMSON OF SUNSET. + CHAPTER XII. THE OLD SOUTH VERSUS THE NEW. + CHAPTER XIII. FEELING THE ENEMY. + CHAPTER XIV. THE OLD SOUTH DRAWS THE SWORD. + CHAPTER XV. "IN ALL THE WORLD, NO FAIRER FLOWER THAN THIS!" + CHAPTER XVI. BEYOND THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT. + CHAPTER XVII. "IF I MEET THE MAN!" + CHAPTER XVIII. HOW THE CHALLENGE WAS WRITTEN. + CHAPTER XIX. BROUGHT TO BAY. + CHAPTER XX. IN THE HANDS OF THEIR FRIENDS. + CHAPTER XXI. "THE WITNESS IS DEAD." + CHAPTER XXII. THE DUEL AT SUNRISE. + CHAPTER XXIII. THE SHADOW OVER THE HALL. + CHAPTER XXIV. THE PROFILE ON THE MOON. + CHAPTER XXV. THE MIDNIGHT SEARCH. + CHAPTER XXVI. GATHERING THE CLEWS. + CHAPTER XXVII. THE FACE THAT CAME IN DREAMS. + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE THREE PICTURES. + CHAPTER XXIX. "HOME SWEET HOME." + CHAPTER XXX. THE RAINBOW IN THE MIST. + CHAPTER XXXI. THE HAND OF SCIENCE. + CHAPTER XXXII. THE FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH. + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE TRADE WITH SLIPPERY DICK. + CHAPTER XXXIV. THE FACE OF THE BODY-SNATCHER. + CHAPTER XXXV. THE GRAVE IN THE PAST. + CHAPTER XXXVI. THE PLEDGE THAT WAS GIVEN. + CHAPTER XXXVII. "WHICH OF THE TWO WAS MY MOTHER?" + CHAPTER XXXVIII. UNDER THE SPELL. + CHAPTER XXXIX. BARKSDALE'S WARNING. + CHAPTER XL. THE HIDDEN HAND. + CHAPTER XLI. WITH THE WOMAN WHO LOVED HIM. + CHAPTER XLII. THE SONG THE OCEAN SANG. + CHAPTER XLIII. THE DEATH OF GASPARD LEVIGNE. + CHAPTER XLIV. THE HEART OF CAMBIA. + CHAPTER XLV. THE MAN WITH THE TORCH. + CHAPTER XLVI. WHAT THE SHEET HID. + CHAPTER XLVII. ON THE MARGINS OF TWO WORLDS. + CHAPTER XLVIII. WAR TO THE KNIFE. + CHAPTER XLIX. PREPARING THE MINE. + CHAPTER L. SLIPPERY DICK RIGHTS A WRONG. + CHAPTER LI. A WOMAN'S WIT CONQUERS. + CHAPTER LII. DEATH OF COL. MONTJOY. + CHAPTER LIII. THE ESCAPE OF AMOS ROYSON. + CHAPTER LIV. HOW A DEBT WAS PAID. + CHAPTER LV. THE UNOPENED LETTER. + CHAPTER LVI. "WOMAN, WHAT WAS HE TO YOU?" + CHAPTER LVII. FRAGMENTARY LIFE RECORDS. + CHAPTER LVIII. "THE LAST SCENE OF ALL" + + + + +SONS AND FATHERS + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +TWO SONS. + + +At a little station in one of the gulf states, where the east and west +trains leave and pick up a few passengers daily, there met in the summer +of 1888 two men who since they are to appear frequently in this record, +are worthy of description. One who alighted from the west-bound train +was about 29 years of age. Tall and slender, he wore the usual +four-button cutaway coat, with vest and trousers to match, which, +despite its inappropriateness in such a climate, was the dress of the +young city man of the south, in obedience to the fashion set by the +northern metropolis. His small feet were incased in neat half-moroccos, +and his head protected by the regulation derby of that year. There was +an inch of white cuffs visible upon his wrists, held with silver link +buttons, and an inch and a half of standing collar, points turned down. +He carried a small traveling bag of alligator skin swung lightly over +his left shoulder, after the English style, and a silk umbrella in lieu +of a cane. This man paced the platform patiently. + +His neighbor was about the same age, dressed in a plain gray cassimer +suit. He wore a soft felt traveling hat and the regulation linen. He +was, however, of heavier build, derived apparently from free living, and +restless, since he moved rapidly from point to point, speaking with +train hands and others, his easy, good-fellow air invariably securing +him courtesy. His face was full and a trifle florid, but very mobile in +expression; while that of the first mentioned was somewhat sallow and +softened almost to sadness by gray eyes and long lashes. As they passed +each other the difference was both noticed and felt. The impressions +that the two would have conveyed to an analyst were action and +reflection. Perhaps in the case of the man in gray the impression would +have been heightened by sight of his two great commercial traveling bags +of Russia leather, bearing the initials "N. M. Jr." + +There was one other passenger on the platform--a very handsome young +woman, seated on her trunk and trying to interest herself in a pamphlet +spread upon her lap, but from time to time she lifted her face, and when +the eyes of the man glanced her way she lowered hers with a half-smile +on her lips. There was something in his tone and manner that disarmed +reserve. + +An officer in uniform came from the little eating-house near by and +approached the party. + +"Are there any passengers for the coast here?" he asked. + +"I am going to Charleston," the young lady said. + +"Where are you from, miss?" Then, seeing her surprise, he continued: +"You must excuse the question but I am a quarantine officer and +Charleston has quarantined against all points that have been exposed to +yellow fever." + +"That, then, does not include me," she said, confidently. "I am from +Montgomery, where there is no yellow fever, and a strict quarantine." + +"Have you a health certificate?" + +"A what?" + +"A ticket from any of the authorities or physicians in Montgomery." + +"No, sir; I am Miss Kitty Blair, and going to visit friends in +Charleston." + +The officer looked embarrassed. The health-certificate regulation and +inland quarantine were new and forced him frequently into unpleasant +positions. + +"You will excuse me," he said, finally; "but have you anything that +could establish that fact, visiting cards, correspondence--" + +"I have told you," she replied, flushing a little, "who I am and where I +am from." + +"That would be sufficient, miss, if all that is needed is a lady's word, +but I am compelled to keep all persons from the east-bound train who +cannot prove their residence in a non-infected district. The law is +impartial." + +"And I cannot go on, then?" There were anxiety and pathos in her eyes +and tones. The gentleman in gray approached. + +"I can fix that, sir," he said, briskly addressing the officer. "I am +not personally acquainted with Miss Blair, but I can testify to what she +says as true. I have seen her in Montgomery almost daily. My name is +Montjoy--Norton Montjoy, Jr. Here are my letters and my baggage is over +yonder." + +"Are you a son of Col. Norton Montjoy of Georgia, colonel of the old +'fire-eaters,' as we used to call the regiment?" + +"Yes, indeed," and a happy smile illumined his face. + +"My name is Throckmorton," said the officer. "I followed your father +three years during the war, and you are--by Jove! you are the brat that +they once brought to camp and introduced as the latest infantry recruit! +Well, I see the likeness now." + +The two men shook hands fervently. The officer bowed to the lady. "The +matter is all right," he said, smiling; "I will give you a paper +presently that will carry you through." The new friends then walked +aside talking with animation. The quarantine officer soon got into war +anecdotes. The other stranger was now left to the amusement of watching +the varying expressions of the girl's face. She continued low over her +book and began to laugh. Presently, with a supreme effort she recovered +herself. Montjoy had shaken off his father's admirer and was coming her +way. She looked up shyly. "I am very much obliged to you for getting me +out of trouble; I----" + +"Don't mention it, miss; these fellows haven't much discretion." + +"But what a fib it was!" + +"How?" + +"I haven't been in Montgomery in two weeks. I came here from an aunt's +in Macon." + +"And I haven't been there in six months!" His laugh was hearty and +infectious. "Here comes your train; let me put you aboard." He secured +her a seat; the repentant quarantine officer supplied her with a ticket, +and then, shaking hands again with his father's friend, Montjoy hurried +to the southwester, which was threatening to get under way. The other +traveler was in and had a window open on the shady side. + +There were men only in the car, and as Montjoy entered he drew off his +coat and dropped it upon his bags. The motion of the starting train did +not add to his comfort. The red dust poured in through the open windows, +invading and irritating the lungs. He thought of the moonlit roof +gardens in New York with something like a groan. + +"Confound such a road!" and down went the book he was seriously trying +to lose himself in. His silent companion's face was lifted toward him: + +"A railroad company that will run cars like this on such a schedule +ought to be abolished, the officers imprisoned, track torn up and +rolling stock burned! But then," he continued, "I am the fool. I ought +not to have come by this God-forsaken route." + +"It is certainly not pleasant traveling to-day," his companion remarked, +sympathetically, showing even, white teeth under his brown mustache. +Montjoy had returned to his seat, but the smooth, even, musical tones of +the other echoed in his memory. He glanced back and presently came and +took a seat near by. + +"Are you a resident of the south?" It was the stranger who spoke first. +This delicate courtesy was not lost on Montjoy. + +"Yes. That is, I count myself a citizen of this state. But I sell +clothing for a New York house and am away from home a great deal." + +"You delivered the young lady at the junction from quite a predicament." + +"Didn't I, though! Well, she is evidently a fine little woman and +pretty. Lies for a pretty woman don't count. By the way--may I ask? What +line of business are you in?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE STRANGER ON THE THRESHOLD. + + +"I am not in business," said the other. "I am a nephew of John Morgan, +of Macon. I suppose you must have known him." + +"Yes, indeed." + +"And am going out to wind up his affairs. I have been abroad and have +only just returned. The news of his death was quite a surprise to me. I +had not been informed that he was ill." + +"Then you are the heir of John Morgan?" + +"I am told so. It is but three days now since I reached this country, +and I have no information except as contained in a brief notice from +attorneys." + +"How long since you have seen him?" + +"I have never seen him--at least not since I was an infant, if then. My +parents left me to his care. I have spent my life in schools until six +or seven years ago, when, after graduating at Harvard and then at +Columbia college in law, I went abroad. Have never seen so much as the +picture of my uncle. I applied to him for one through his New York +lawyer once, sending a new one of myself, and he replied that he had too +much respect for art to have his taken." + +"That sounds like him," and Montjoy laughed heartily. "He was a florid, +sandy-haired man, with eyes always half-closed against the light, stout +and walked somewhat heavily. He has been a famous criminal lawyer, but +for many years has not seemed to care for practice. He was a heavy +drinker, but with all that you could rely implicitly upon what he said. +He left a large property, I presume?" + +"So I infer." Edward looked out of the window, but presently resumed the +conversation. + +"My uncle stood well in the community, I suppose?" + +"Oh, yes; we have lost a good citizen. Do you expect to make your home +with us?" + +"That depends upon circumstances. Very likely I shall." + +"I see! Well, sir, I trust you will. The Morgan place is a nice one and +has been closed to the young people too long." + +"I am afraid they will not find me very gay." A shadow flitted over his +face, blotting out the faint smile. + +The towns and villages glided away. + +Edward Morgan noticed that there was little paint upon the country +houses, and that the fences were gone from the neighborhoods. And then +the sun sank below the black cloud, painting its peaks with gold, and +filling the caverns with yellow light; church spires, tall buildings and +electric-light towers filed by with solemn dignity and then stood +motionless. The journey was at an end. + +"My home is six miles out," said Montjoy, "and if you will go with me I +shall be glad to have you. It is quite a ride, but anything is +preferable to the hotels." + +Morgan's face lighted up quickly at this unexpected courtesy. + +"Thank you," he said "but I don't mind the hotels. I have never had any +other home, sir, except boarding houses." Through his smile there fell +the little, destroying shadow. Montjoy had not expected him to accept, +but he turned now, with his winning manner. + +"Well, then, I insist. We shall find a wagon waiting outside, and +to-morrow I am coming in and shall bring you back. We will have to get +acquainted some of these days, and there is nothing like making an early +start." He was already heading for the sidewalk; his company was as +sunlight and Morgan was tempted to stay in the sunlight. + +"Then I shall go," he said. "You are very kind." + +A four-seated vehicle stood outside and by it a little old negro, who +laughed as Montjoy rapidly approached. + +"Well, Isam," he said, tossing his bag in, "how are all at home?" + +"Dey's all well." + +"By the way, Mr. Morgan, we shall leave your trunks, but I can supply +you with everything for a 'one-night stand.'" + +"I have a valise that will answer, if there is room." + +"Plenty. Let Isam have the check and he will get it." While Morgan was +feeling for his bit of brass Isam continued: + +"Miss Annie will be mighty glad to see you. Sent me in here now goin' on +fo' times an' gettin' madder----" + +"That's all right; here's the check; hurry up." The negro started off +rapidly. + +"Drive by the club, Isam," he said, when the negro had resumed the +lines. "I reckon we'll be too late for supper at home; better get it in +town." + +"Miss Mary save supper for you, sho', Marse Norton." + +"Save, the mischief! Go ahead!" The single horse moved forward in a +dignified trot. + +As they entered the club several young men were grouped near a center +table. There was a vista of open doors, a glimmer of cards and the crash +of billiards. Montjoy walked up and dropped his hat on the table. There +followed a general handshaking. Edward Morgan noticed that they greeted +him with cordiality. Then he saw his manner change and he turned with a +show of formality. + +"Gentlemen, this is my friend, Mr. Morgan, a nephew of Col. John +Morgan." He rapidly pronounced the names of those present, and each +shook the newcomer's hand. At the same time Morgan felt their sudden +scrutiny, but it was brief. Montjoy rang the bell. + +"What are you going to have, gentlemen? John," to the old waiter, "how +are you, John?" + +"First rate, Marse Norton; first rate." The old man bowed and smiled. + +"Take these orders, John. Five toddies, one Rhine wine, and hurry, John! +Oh, John!" The worthy came back. "There is only one mistake you can make +with mine; take care about the water!" + +"All right, sah, all right! Dare won't be any!" + +Montjoy ordered a tremendous supper, as he called it, and while waiting +the half-hour for its preparation, several of the party repeated the +order for refreshments, it appeared to the stranger, with something like +anxiety. It was as though they feared an opportunity to return the +courtesies they had accepted would not be given. None joined them at +supper, but when the newcomers were seated one of the gentlemen lounged +near and dropping into a seat renewed the conversation that had been +interrupted. Champagne had been added to the supper and this gentleman +yielded at length to Montjoy's demand and joined them. + +The conversation ran upon local politics until Morgan began to feel the +isolation. He took to studying the new man and presently felt the +slight, inexplicable prejudice that he had formed upon the introduction, +wearing away. The man was tall, dark and straightly built, probably +thirty years of age, with fine eyes and unchanging countenance. He did +but little talking, and when he spoke it was with great deliberation and +positiveness. If there were an unpleasant shading of character written +there it was in the mouth, which, while not ill-formed, seemed to +promise a relentless disposition. But the high and noble forehead +redeemed it all. This man was now addressing him: + +"You will remain some time in Macon, Mr. Morgan?" + +The voice possessed but few curves; it grated a trifle upon the +stranger. + +"I cannot tell as yet," he said; "I do not know what will be required of +me." + +"Well, I shall be pleased to see you at my place of business whenever +you find an opportunity of calling. Norton, bring Mr. Morgan down to see +me." + +He laid his card by Edward and bade them good-evening. Looking over his +plate, the latter read H. R. Barksdale, president A. F. & C. railroad. +He had not caught the name in the general introduction. "Good fellow," +said Montjoy, between mouthfuls; "talked more to-night than I ever heard +him, and never knew him to pull a card before." + +The night was dark. The road ran over hills, but sometimes was sandy +enough to reduce the horse to his slowest gait. "From this point," said +Montjoy, looking back, "you can see the city five miles away, rather a +good view in the daytime, but now only the scattered electric lights +show up." + +"It looks like the south of France," said Morgan. Montjoy revealed the +direction of his thoughts. + +"You will find things at home very different from what they once were," +he put in. "With free labor the plantations have run down, and it is +very hard for the old planters to make anything out of land now. The +negroes won't work and it hardly pays to plant cotton. I wish often that +father could do something else, but he can't change at his time of +life." + +"Could not the young men do better with the plantations?" + +"Young men! My dear sir, the young men can't afford to work the +plantations; it is as much as they can do to make a living in town--most +of them." + +"Is there room for all?" + +"No, indeed! They are having a hard time of it, I reckon, and salaries +are getting smaller every year." + +"I have heard," said Morgan, slowly, "that labor is the wealth of a +country. It seems to me that if they expect to make anything out of +this, they must labor in the productive branches. Where does the support +for all come from?" + +"From the farms--from cotton, mostly." + +"The negro is, then, after all, the productive agent." + +Montjoy thought a moment, then replied: + +"Yes, as a rule. Manufacturing is increasing and there is some +development in mining, but as a matter of fact the negroes and the poor +whites of the country keep the balance up. Somebody has got to sweat it +out between the plow handles, but you can bet your bottom dollar that +Montjoy is out. I couldn't make $100 a year on the best plantation in +Georgia, but I can make $5,000 selling clothing." + +The dignified horse had climbed his last hill for the night and was just +turning into an avenue, when a dark form came plunging out of the shadow +and collided with him violently. Morgan beheld a rider almost unhorsed +and heard an oath. For an instant only he saw the man's face, white and +malignant, and then it disappeared in the darkness. To Montjoy's +greeting, good-naturedly hurled into the night, there came no reply. + +"My wife's cousin," he said, laughing. "I am glad it is not my horse he +is riding to-night." + +They came up in front of a large house with Corinthian columns and many +lights. There was a sudden movement of chairs upon the long veranda and +then a young woman came slowly down to the gate and lifted her face to +Montjoy's kiss. A pretty boy of five climbed into his arms. Morgan stood +silent, touched by the scene. He started violently as Norton Montjoy, +remembering his presence, called his name. The woman extended her hand. + +"I am very glad to see you," she said, accenting the adjective. Morgan, +sensitive to fine impressions, did not like the voice, although the +courtesy was perfect. + +They advanced to the porch. An old gentleman was standing at the top of +the steps. In the light streaming from the hallway Morgan saw that he +was tall and soldierly and with gray hair pressed back in great waves +from the temples. He put one arm around his son and the other around his +grandson, but did not remove his eyes from the guest. While he addressed +words of welcome and chiding to the former, he was slowly extending his +right hand, seeing which the son said gayly: + +"Mr. Morgan, father--a nephew of Col. John Morgan." The light fell upon +the half-turned face of the old gentleman and showed it lighted by a +mild and benevolent expression and dawning smile. + +"Indeed! Come in, Mr. Morgan, come in; I am glad to see you." + +The words were cordial and tone of voice perfect, but to Edward there +seemed a shading of surprise in the prolonged gaze that rested upon him. + +Norton had passed on to the end of the porch, where an elderly lady sat +upright, prevented from rising by a little girl asleep in her lap. There +were sounds of repeated kisses as she embraced her overgrown boy, and +then her voice: + +"The Duchess tried to keep her eyes open for you, but she could not. Why +are you so late?" Her voice was as the winds in the pines, and the hand +she gave to Morgan a moment later was as cool as chamois and as soft. + +A young girl had come to the doorway. She was simply dressed in white +and her abundant hair was twisted into the Grecian knot that makes some +women appear more womanly. She put her arms about the big brother and +gave her little hand to Morgan. For a moment their eyes met, and then, +gently disengaging her hand, she went to lean against her father's +chair, softly stroking his white hair, while the conversation went +'round. + +"Mary," said the older woman, presently, "Mr. Morgan and Norton have had +a long ride and must be hungry." + +"No," said the latter, checking the girl's sudden movement, "we have had +something to eat in town." + +"You should have waited, my son; it was a needless expense," said the +mother, gently. "But I am afraid you will never practice economy." +Norton laughed and did not dispute the proposition. The young mother and +children disappeared, and Norton gave a spirited account of the +quarantine incident without securing applause. + +"I understand," said the colonel to his guest presently, when +conversation had lulled, "that you are a nephew of John Morgan. I did +not know that he had brothers or sisters----" + +"I am not really a nephew," said Morgan, quietly, "but a distant +relative and always taught to regard him as uncle." Something in his +voice made the young girl lift her eyes. His figure in the half-light +where he sat was immovable. Against the white column beyond, his head, +graceful in its outlines, was sharply silhouetted. It was bent slightly +forward; and while they remained upon the porch, ever at the sound of +his voice she would turn her eyes slowly and let them rest upon the +speaker. But she was silent. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A BREATH FROM THE OLD SOUTH. + + +The room in which Edward Morgan opened his eyes next morning was large +and the ceiling low. The posts of the bed ran up to within a foot of the +latter and supported a canopy. There was no carpet, the curtains were of +chintz and the lambrequins evidently home made. The few pictures on the +wall were portraits, in frames made of pine cones, with clusters of +young cones at the corners. There were home-made brackets, full of swamp +grasses. The bureau had two miniature Tuscan columns, between which was +hung a swivel glass. All was homely but clean and suggestive of a +woman's presence. And through the open windows there floated a delicious +atmosphere, fresh, cool and odorous, with the bloom-breath of tree and +shrub. + +He stepped out of bed and looked forth. For a mile ran the great fields +of cotton and corn, with here and there a cabin and its curl of smoke. A +flock of pigeons were walking about the barn doors, and a number of +goats waited at the side gate, which led into a broad back yard. In the +distance he could see negroes in the fields, hear their songs and the +"clank" of a little grist-mill in the valley. + +But sweeping all other sounds from mind, he heard also another musical +voice calling "Chick! chick! chickee, chickee!" and caught a glimpse of +fowls hurrying from every direction toward the back yard. He plunged his +head into a basin of cool water, and presently he was dressed. + +The front door was open, as it had remained all night, the chairs on the +porch, with here and there books and papers, when Edward Morgan walked +out. The yard was spacious and full of plants. Sunflowers and +poke-berries were growing along the front fence, and mocking birds, +cardinals and jays, their animosities suspended, were breakfasting side +by side. His walk carried him to the side of the house, and, looking +across the low picket fence, he saw Mary. Her sleeves were rolled up +above the elbows and her arms covered with dough from a great pan into +which, from time to time, she thrust a hand. A multitude of ducks, +chickens, turkeys and guineas scrambled about her, and a dozen white +pigeons struggled for standing-room upon her shoulders. + +"May I come in?" he called. + +"If you can stand it, Mr. Morgan." There was not the slightest +embarrassment; the brown eyes were frank and encouraging; he placed his +hands upon the fence and leaped lightly over. + +"What a family you have!" he said. She smiled, turning her face to him +as she scattered dough and gently pushed away the troublesome birds. + +"Many birds' mouths to fill; and they will have to fill some mouths too, +one of these days, poor things." + +"That is but fair." + +"I suppose so; but what a mission in life--just to fill somebody's +mouth." + +"The mission of many poor men and women I have seen," he said, "is +merely to fill mouths. And sometimes they get so poor they can't do +that." + +"And sometimes chickens get the same way," she said, sagely, at which +both laughed outright. Her face resumed its placid expression almost +instantly. "It must be sad to be very poor; how I wish they could +arrange for all of the poor people to come out here and find homes; +there seems to be so much land wasted." + +"They would not stay long anywhere away from the city," he said; "but do +you never sigh for city life?" + +"I prefer it," she replied, simply, "but we cannot afford it. And there +is no one to take care of this place. It is harder on Annie, brother's +wife. She simply detests the country. When I graduated--" + +"You graduated!" he exclaimed, almost incredulously. She looked at him +surprised. + +"Yes, I am young, seventeen this month, but that is not extraordinary. +Mamma graduated at the same age, sixteen, forty years ago." A servant +approached, spoon in hand. + +"Want some more lard, missy." She took her bunch of keys, and selecting +one that looked like the bastile memento at Mount Vernon, unlocked the +smoke-house door and waited. "Half of that will do, Gincy," she said, +not looking around as she talked with Morgan, and the woman returned +half. + +"Now," she continued to him, "I must go see about the milking." + +"I will go, too, if you do not object! This is all new and enjoyable." +They came to where the women were at work. As they stood looking on, a +calf came up and stood by the girl's side, letting her rub its sensitive +ears. A little kid approached, too, and bleated. + +"Aunt Mollie," Mary asked, "has its mother come up yet?" + +"No, ma'am. Spec' somep'n done cotch her!" + +"See if he will drink some cow's milk--give me the cup." She offered him +a little, and the hungry animal drank eagerly. "Let him stay in the yard +until he gets large enough to feed himself." Then turning to Morgan, +laughing, she said: "I expect you are hungry, too; I wonder why papa +does not come." + +"Is he up?" + +"Oh, yes; he goes about early in the morning--there he comes now!" The +soldierly form of the old man was seen out among the pines. "Bring in +breakfast, Gincy," she called, and presently several negroes sped across +the yard, carrying smoking dishes into the cool basement dining-room. +Then the bell rang. + +At the top of the stairway Morgan had an opportunity to better see his +hostess. The lady was slender and moved with deliberation. Her gray hair +was brightened by eyes that seemed to swim with light and sympathy. The +dress was a black silk, old in fashion and texture, but there was real +lace at the throat and wrists, and a little lace headdress. She smiled +upon the young man and gave him her plump hand as he offered to assist +her. + +"I hope you slept well," she said; "no ghosts! That part of the house +you were in is said to be one hundred years old, and must be full of +memories." + +They stood for grace, and then Mary took her place behind the coffee pot +and served the delicious beverage in thin cups of china. The meal +consisted of broiled chicken, hot, light biscuits, bread of cornmeal, +and eggs that Morgan thought delicious, corn cakes, bacon and fine +butter. A little darky behind an enormous apron, but barefooted, stood +by the coffee pot and with a great brush of the gorgeous peacock +feathers kept the few flies off the tiny caster in the middle of the +table, while his eyes followed the conversation around. Presently there +was a clatter on the stairs and the little boy came down and climbed +into his high chair. He was barefooted and evidently ready for +breakfast, as he took a biscuit and bit it. The colonel looked severely +at him. + +"Put your biscuit down," he said, quietly but sternly, "and wait outside +now until the others are through. You came in after grace and you have +not said good-morning." The boy's countenance clouded and he began to +pick at his knife handle; the grandmother said, gently: + +"He'll not do it again, grandpa, and he is hungry, I know. Let him off +this time." Grandpa assumed a very severe expression as he replied, +promptly: + +"Very well, madam; let him say grace and stay, under those +circumstances." The company waited on him, he hesitated, swelled up as +if about to cry and said, earnestly: "Gimme somep'n to eat, for the +Lord's sake, amen." Grandma smiled benignly, but Mary and grandpa were +convulsed. Then other footfalls were heard on the stairs outside, as if +some one were coming down by placing the same foot in front each time. +Presently in walked a blue-eyed, golden-haired, barefooted girl of +three, who went straight to the colonel and held up her arms. He lifted +her and pressed the little cheek to his. + +"Ah," he said, "here comes the Duchess." He gave her a plate next to +his, and taking her fork she ate demurely, from time to time watching +Morgan. + +"Papa ain't up yet," volunteered the boy. "He told mamma to throw his +clothes in the creek as he wouldn't have any more use for them--ain' +going to get up any more." + +"Mamma, does your eye hurt you?" said Mary, seeing the white hand for +the second time raised to her face. + +"A little. The same old pain." + +"Mamma," she explained to Morgan, "has lost the sight of one eye by +neuralgia, tho you would never suspect it. She still suffers dreadfully +at times from the same trouble." + +Presently the elder lady excused herself, the daughter watching her +anxiously as she slowly disappeared. + +It was nearly noon when Norton Montjoy and Edward Morgan reached the law +office of Ellison Eldridge. As they entered Morgan saw a clean-shaven +man of frank, open expression. Norton spoke: + +"Judge, this is Mr. Edward Morgan--you have corresponded with him." +Morgan felt the sudden penetrating look of the lawyer. Montjoy was +already saying au revoir and hastening out, waving off Edward's thanks +as he went. + +"Will see you later," he called back from the stairway, "and don't +forget your promise to the old folks." + +"You got my letter, Mr. Morgan? Please be seated." + +"Yes; three days since, in New York, through Fuller & Fuller. You have, +I believe, the will of the late John Morgan." + +"A copy of it. The will is already probated." He went to his safe and +returned with a document and a bunch of keys. "Shall I read it to you?" + +"If you please." + +The lawyer read, after the usual recitation that begins such documents, +as follows: "Do create, name and declare Edward Morgan of the city of +New York my lawful heir to all property, real and personal, of which I +may die possessed. And I hereby name as executor of this my last will +and testament, Ellison Eldridge of ---- state afore-said, relieving said +Ellison Eldridge of bond as executor and giving him full power to wind +up my estate, pay all debts and settle with the heir as named, without +the order of or returns to any court, and for his services in this +connection a lien of $10,000 in his favor is hereby created upon said +estate, to be paid in full when the residue of property is transferred +to the said Edward Morgan," etc. + +"The property, aside from Ilexhurst, his late home," continued Judge +Eldridge, "consists of $630,000 in government bonds. These I have in a +safety-deposit company. I see the amount surprises you." + +"Yes," said the young man; "I am surprised by the amount." He gave +himself up to thought for a few moments. + +"The keys," said Eldridge, "he gave me a few days before his death, +stating that they were for you only, and that the desk in his room at +home, which they fitted, contained no property." + +"You knew Mr. Morgan well, I presume?" said the young man. + +"Yes, and no. I have seen him frequently for a great many years, but no +man knew him intimately. He was eccentric, but a fine lawyer and a very +able man. One day he came in here to execute this will and left it with +me. He referred to it again but once and that was when he came to bring +your address and photograph." + +"Was there--anything marked--or strange--in his life?" + +"Nothing beyond what I have outlined. He was a bachelor, and beyond an +occasional party to gentlemen in his house, when he spared no expense, +and regular attendance upon the theater, he had few amusements. He +inherited some money; the balance he accumulated in his practice and by +speculation, I suppose. The amount is several times larger than I +suspected. His one great vice was drink. He would get on his sprees two +or three times a year, but always at home. There he would shut himself +up and drink until his housekeeper called in the doctors." Morgan waited +in silence; there was nothing else and he rose abruptly. + +"Judge, we will wind up this matter in a few days. Here are your +letters, and John Morgan's to me, and letters from Fuller & Fuller, who +have known me for many years and have acted as agents for both Col. +Morgan and myself. If more proof is desired----" + +"These are sufficient. Your photograph is accurate. May I ask how you +are related to Col. Morgan?" + +"Distantly only. The fact is I am almost as nearly alone in the world as +he was. I must have your advice touching other matters. I shall return, +very likely, in the morning." + +Upon the street Edward Morgan walked as in a dream. Strange to say, the +information imparted to him had been depressing. He called a carriage. + +"Take me out to John Morgan's," he said, briefly. + +"De colonel's done dead, sah!" + +"I know, but the house is still there, is it not?" + +The driver conveyed the rebuke to his bony horse, in the shape of a +sharp lash, and secured a reasonably fair gait. Once or twice he +ventured observations upon the character of the deceased. + +"Col. Morgan's never asked nobody 'how much' when dey drive 'im; he des +fling down half er doller an' go long 'bout es business. Look to me, +young marster, like you sorter got de Morgan's eye. Is you kinned to +'im?" + +"I employed you to drive, not to talk," said Edward, sharply. + +"Dere now, dat's des what Col. Morgan say!" + +The negro gave vent to a little pacifying laugh and was silent. The +shadow on the young man's face was almost black when he got out of the +hack in front of the Morgan house and tossed the old negro a dollar. + +"Oom-hoo!" said that worthy, significantly. "Oo-hoo! What I tole you?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE MOTHER'S ROOM. + + +The house before which Morgan stood overlooked the city two miles away +and was the center of a vast estate now run to weeds. It was a fine +example of the old style of southern architecture. The spacious roof, +embattled, but unbroken by gable or tower, was supported in front by +eight massive columns that were intended to be Ionic. The space between +them and the house constituted the veranda, and opening from the center +of the house upon this was a great doorway, flanked by windows. This +arrangement was repeated in the story above, a balcony taking the place +of the door. The veranda and columns were reproduced on both sides of +the house, running back to two one-story wings. The house was of slight +elevation and entered in front by six marble steps, flanked by carved +newel posts and curved rails; the front grounds were a hundred yards +wide and fifty deep, inclosed by a heavy railing of iron. These details +came to him afterward; he did not even see at that time the magnolias +and roses that grew in profusion, nor the once trim boxwood hedges and +once active fountain. He sounded loudly upon the front door with the +knocker. + +At length a woman came around the wing room and approached him. She was +middle-aged and wore a colored turban, a white apron hiding her dress. +The face was that of an octoroon; her figure tall and full of dignity. +She did not betray the mixed blood in speech or manner, but her form of +address proclaimed her at once a servant. The voice was low and musical +as she said, "Good-morning, sir," and waited. + +Morgan studied her in silence a moment; his steady glance seemed to +alarm her, for she drew back a step and placed her hand on the rail. + +"I want to see the people who have charge of this house," said the young +man. She now approached nearer and looked anxiously into his face. + +"I have the care of it," she answered. + +"Well," said he, "I am Edward Morgan, the new owner. Let me have the +keys." + +"Edward Morgan!" She repeated the name unconsciously. + +"Come, my good woman, what is it? Where are the keys?" She bowed her +head. "I will get them for you, sir." She went to the rear again, and +presently the great doors swung apart and he entered. + +The hallway was wide and opened through massive folding doors into the +dining-room in the rear, and this dining-room, by means of other folding +doors, entering the wing-rooms, could be enlarged into a princely salon. +The hall floor was of marble and a heavy frieze and centerpiece +decorated walls and ceiling. A gilt chandelier hung from the center. +Antique oak chairs flanked this hallway, which boasted also a hatrack, +with looking-glass six feet wide. A semicircular stairway, guarded by a +carved oak rail, a newel post and a knight in armor, led to apartments +above. A musty odor pervaded the place. + +"Open the house," said Edward; "I must have better air." + +And while this was being done he passed through the rooms into which now +streamed light and fresh air. On the right was parlor and guest chamber, +the hangings and carpets unchanged in nearly half a century. On the left +was a more cheerful living-room, with piano and a rack of yellow sheet +music, and the library, with an enormous collection of books. There were +also cane furniture, floor matting and easy-chairs. + +In all these rooms spacious effects were not lessened by bric-a-brac and +collections. A few portraits and landscapes, a candelabra or two, a pair +of brass fire dogs, one or two large and exquisitely painted vases made +up the ornamental features. The dining-room proper differed in that its +furnishings were newer and more elaborate. The wing-rooms were evidently +intended for cards and billiards. Behind was the southern back porch +closed in with large green blinds. Over all was the chill of isolation +and disuse. + +Edward made his way upstairs among the sleeping apartments, full of old +and clumsy furniture, the bedding having been removed. Two rooms only +were of interest; to the right and rear a small apartment connected with +the larger one in front by a door then locked. This small room seemed to +have been a boy's. There were bows and arrows, an old muzzle-loading +gun, a boat paddle, a dip net, stag horns, some stuffed birds and small +animals, the latter sadly dilapidated, a few game pictures, boots, shoes +and spurs--even toys. A small bed ready for occupancy stood in one +corner and in another a little desk with drop lid. On the hearth were +iron fire dogs and ashes, the latter holding fragments of charred paper. + +For the first time since entering the house Edward felt a human +presence; it was a bright sunny room opening to the western breeze and +the berries of a friendly china tree tapped upon the window as he +approached it. He placed his hand upon the knob of the door, leading +forward, and tried to open it; it was locked. + +"That," said the woman's low voice, "is Col. Morgan's mother's room, +sir, and nobody ever goes in there. No one has entered that room but him +since she died, I reckon more than forty years ago." + +Edward had started violently; he turned to find the sad, changeless face +of the octoroon at his side. + +"And this room?" + +"There is where he lived all his life--from the time he was a boy until +he died." + +Edward took from his pocket the bunch of keys and applied the largest to +the lock of the unopened door; the bolt turned easily. As he crossed the +threshold a thrill went through him; he seemed to trespass. Here had the +boy grown up by his mother, here had been his retreat at all times. When +she passed away it was the one spot that kept fresh the heart of the +great criminal lawyer, who fought the outside world so fiercely and +well. Edward had never known a mother's room, but the scene appealed to +him, and for the first time he felt kinship with the man who preceded +him, who was never anything but a boy here in these two rooms. Even when +he lay dead, back there in that simple bed, over which many a night his +mother must have leaned to press her kisses upon his brow, he was a boy +grown old and lonely. + +One day she had died in this front room! What an agony of grief must +have torn the boy left behind. In the dim light of the room he had +opened, objects began to appear; almost reverently Edward raised a +window and pushed open the shutters. Behind him stood ready for +occupancy a snowy bed, with pillows and linen as fresh seemingly as if +placed there at morn. By the bedside was a pair of small worn slippers, +a rocking chair stood by the east window, and by the chair was a little +sewing stand, with a boy's jacket lying near, and threaded needle thrust +into its texture. On the little center table was a well-worn Bible by a +small brass lamp, and a single painting hung upon the wall--that of a +little farmhouse at the foot of a hill, with a girl in frock and poke +bonnet swinging upon its gate. + +There was no carpet on the floor; only two small rugs. It had been the +home of a girl simply raised and grown to womanhood, and her simplicity +had been repeated in her boy. The great house had been the design of her +husband, but there in these two rooms mother and son found the charm of +a bygone life, delighting in those "vague feelings" which science cannot +fathom, but which simpler minds accept as the whispering of heredity. + +One article only remained unexamined. It was a small picture in a frame +that rested upon the mantel and in front of which was draped a velvet +cloth. Morgan as in a dream drew aside the screen and saw the face of a +wondrously beautiful girl, whose eyes rested pensively upon him. A low +cry escaped the octoroon, who had noiselessly followed him; she was +nodding her head and muttering, all unconscious of his presence. When +she saw at length his face turned in wonder upon her she glided +noiselessly from the room. He replaced the cloth, closed the window +again and tiptoed out, locking the door behind him. + +He found the octoroon downstairs upon the back steps. She was now calm +and answered his questions clearly. She had not belonged to John Morgan, +she said, but had always been a free woman. Her husband had been free, +too, but had died early. She had come to keep house at Ilexhurst many +years ago, before the war, and had been there always since, caring for +everything while Mr. Morgan was in the army, and afterward; when he was +away from time to time. No, she did not know anything of the girl in the +picture; she had heard it said that he was once to have married a lady, +but she married somebody else and that was the end of it. John Morgan +had kept the room as it was. No, he was never married. He had no cousins +or kinfolks that she had heard of except a sister who died, and her two +sons had been killed in battle or lost at sea during the war. Neither of +them was married; she was certain of that. She herself cooked and kept +house, and Ben, a hired boy, attended to the rest and acted as butler. + +Edward was recalled to the present by feeling her eyes fixed upon him. +He caught but one fleeting glance at her face before it was averted; it +had grown young, almost beautiful, and the eyes were moistened and +tender and sad. He turned away abruptly. + +"I will occupy an upper room to-night," he said, "and will send new +furniture to-morrow." His baggage had come and he went back with the +express to the city. He would return, he said, after supper. + +Sometimes the mind, after a long strain imposed upon it, relieves itself +by a refusal to consider. So with Edward Morgan's. That night he stood +by his window and watched the lessening moon rise over the eastern +hills. But he seemed to stand by a low picket fence beyond which a girl, +with bare arms, was feeding poultry. He felt again the power of her +frank, brown eyes as they rested upon him, and heard her voice, musical +in the morning air, as it summoned her flock to breakfast. + +In New York, Paris and Italy, and here there in other lands, were a few +who called him friend; it would be better to wind up his affairs and go +to them. It did not seem possible that he could endure this new life. +Already the buoyancy of youth was gone! His ties were all abroad. + +Thoughts of Paris connected him with a favorite air. He went to his +baggage and unpacked an old violin, and sitting in the window, he played +as a master hand had taught him and an innate genius impelled. It was +Schubert's serenade, and as he played the room was no longer lonely; +sympathy had brought him friends. It seemed to him that among them came +a woman who laid her hand on his shoulder and smiled on him. Her face +was hidden, but her touch was there, living and vibrant. On his cheek +above the mellow instrument he felt his own tears begin to creep and +then--silence. But as he stood calmer, looking down into the night, a +movement in the shrubbery attracted him back to earth; he called aloud: + +"Who is there?" A pause and the tall figure of the octoroon crossed the +white walk. + +"Rita," was the answer. "The gate was left open." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE STRANGER IN THE LIBRARY. + + +Edward was up early and abroad for exercise. Despite his gloom he had +slept fairly well and had awakened but once. But that once! He could not +rid himself of the memory of the little picture and it had served him a +queer trick. He had simply found himself lying with open eyes and +staring at the woman herself; it was the same face, but now anxious and +harassed. He was not superstitious and this was clearly an illusion; he +rubbed his eyes deliberately and looked again. The figure had +disappeared. But the mind that entertains such fancies needs +something--ozone and exercise, he thought; and so he covered the hills +with his rapid pace and found himself an hour later in the city and with +an appetite. + +The day passed in the arrangement of those minor requirements when large +estates descend to new owners. There was an accounting, an examination +of records. Judge Eldridge gave him assistance everywhere, but there was +no time for private and past histories. In passing he dropped in at +Barksdale's office and left a card. + +One of the distinctly marked features of the day was his meeting with a +lawyer, Amos Royson by name. This man held a druggist's claim of several +hundred dollars against the estate of John Morgan for articles purchased +by Rita Morgan, the charges made upon verbal authority from the +deceased. John Morgan had been absent many months just previous to his +death and the account had not been presented. + +Edward was surprised to find, upon entering this office, that the lawyer +was the man who had collided with Montjoy's horse the night before. +Royson saluted him coldly but politely and produced the account already +sworn to and ready for filing. It had been withheld at Eldridge's +request. As Edward ran his eye over the list he saw that chemicals had +been bought at wholesale, and with them had been sent one or two +expensive articles belonging to a chemical laboratory. Just what use +Rita Morgan might have for such things he could not imagine. He was +about to say that he would inquire into the account when he saw that +Royson, with a sardonic smile upon his face, was watching him. He had a +distinct impression that antipathy to the man was stirring within him; +he was about to pay the account and rid himself of the necessity of any +further dealings with the man, when, angered by the impudent, irritating +manner, he decided otherwise. + +"Have you ever shown this account to Rita Morgan?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"And she pronounced it correct, I suppose?" + +"She did not examine it; she said that you would pay it now that John +Morgan is dead." + +"If the account is a just charge upon the Morgan estate I certainly +will," said Morgan, pocketing the written statement. + +"I think after you examine into the matter it will be paid," said +Royson, confidently. Edward thought long upon the man's manner and the +circumstance, but could make nothing out of them. He would see Rita, and +with that resolution he let the incident pass from his mind. + +The shadows were falling when he returned to take his first meal in his +new home. He descended to the dining-room to find it lighted by the +fifty or more jets in the large gilt chandeliers. The apartment +literally blazed with light. The sensation under the circumstances was +agreeable, and in better spirits he took the single seat provided. Here, +as afterward ascertained, had been the lawyer's one point of contact +with the social world, and it was here that he had been accustomed, at +intervals varying from weeks to years, to entertain his city +acquaintances. + +The room was not American but continental from its Louvre ceiling of +white and gold to its niched half life-size statuary and pictures of +fishing and hunting scenes in gilded frames. But the foreign effects +ended in this room. Outside all else was American. + +Edward was silently served by the butler and was pleased to find his +dinner first class in every respect. Then came a box of choice cigars +upon a silver tray. + +Passing into the library, he seated himself by the reading light near +the little side table where a leather chair had been placed, and sought +diversion in the papers; but, alas, the European finds but little of +home affairs in one parliament, a regatta, a horse race, a German-army +review, a social sensation--these were all. + +He turned from the papers; the truth is the one great overwhelming fact +at that moment was that he, a wanderer all of his life, without family +or parents, or knowledge of them, had suddenly been transplanted among a +strange people and made the master of a household and a vast fortune. On +this occasion, as ever since entering the house, he could not rid +himself of a suggestion so indefinite as to belong to the region of +subconsciousness that he was an interloper, an inferior, and that +jealous, unseen eyes were watching him. The room seemed haunted by an +unutterable protest. He was not aware then that this is a peculiarity of +all old houses. + +Something like an oppression seized upon him and he was wondering if +this should continue, would it be possible for him to endure the +situation long? Upstairs was the little desk, the keys to which he held, +and in it information that would lay bare the secret of his life and +reveal the mystery of years ago; which would give him the same chance +for happiness that other men have. All that was left now for him to do +was to ascend the stairs, open the desk and read. He had put it off for +a quiet and convenient moment, and that time had come. + +But what was contained in that desk? He remembered Hamlet and understood +his doubts for the first time. It was the gravity of this doubt, the +weight of the revelation to come that caused him to smoke on, cigar +after cigar, in silence. It flashed upon him that it might be wiser to +take his fortune and return to Europe as he was. But as he smoked his +mind rejected the suggestion as cowardly. + +It was at this stage in his reverie that Edward Morgan received the +severest shock of his life. Without having noticed any sound or +movement, he presently became conscious that some one besides himself +was in the room, and instantly, almost, his eyes rested on a man +standing before the open bookcase. It was a figure, slender and tall, +clad in light, well-worn trousers, and short smoking jacket. The face +turned from him was lifted toward the shelves, and long black hair fell +in shining masses upon his shoulders. The right hand extended upward, +touching first one, then another of the volumes as it searched along the +line, was white as paraffine and slender as a girl's and a fold of +linen, edged with lace, lay upon the wrists. All the other details of +the figure were lost in the shadow. While thus Edward sat, his brain +whirling and eyes riveted upon the strange figure, the visitor paused in +his search as if in doubt, turned his profile and listened, then faced +about suddenly and the two men gazed into each other's eyes. + +Edward had gained his first full view of the visitor's face. Had it been +withdrawn from him in an instant he could at any time thereafter have +reproduced it in every line, so vividly was it impressed upon his +memory. It was new, and yet strangely, dimly, vaguely familiar! It was +oval, pale and lighted by eyes with enormously distended pupils. It +seemed to him that they were not mirrors at that moment, but +scintillating lights burning within their cavities. + +But the first effect, startling though it was, passed away immediately; +nothing could have withstood the gentle pleading entreaty that lurked in +all the face lines; an expression childish and girlish. The stranger +gazed for a moment only on the man sitting bolt upright now in his +chair, his hands clutching the arms, and then went quickly forward. + +"You are Edward Morgan?" he said, encouragingly. "My uncle told me you +would come some day." The deep, indrawn breath that had made the new +master's figure rigid for the moment escaped back slowly between the +parted lips. He was ashamed that he should have been so startled. + +"Yes," he said, presently, "I am Edward Morgan. And you are----" + +"Gerald Morgan. But I must say good-bye now. I have a matter of upmost +importance to conclude." He smiled again, returned to the shelves and +this time without hesitation selected a volume and passed out toward the +dining-room. + +A faint odor of burning material attracted Edward's attention. He looked +for his cigar; it lay upon the matting, in a circle as large as his hat. +He must have sat there watching the door for fifteen minutes after the +singular visitor had passed through. He stamped out the creeping circle +of fire and rang the bell. The octoroon entered and stood waiting, her +eyes cast down. + +"A young man came here a few minutes since and went out through that +door," said he, with difficulty suppressing his excitement: "who is he?" + +She looked to him astonished. + +"Why, that was Mr. Gerald, sir. Don't you know of him? Mr. Gerald +Morgan?" + +"Absolutely nothing. I have never seen him before nor heard of him--no +mention of him has been made in my presence." The woman was clearly +amazed. + +"Is it possible! Your uncle never wrote you about Gerald Morgan--the +lawyers have never told you?" + +"No one has told me, I say; the man is as new to me as if he had dropped +from the clouds." + +She thought a moment. "He must have left papers----" + +"Oh!" exclaimed Edward, starting suddenly; "I have not read the papers! +I see! I see!" + +"You will find it there," she said, relieved. "I thought you knew +already. It did not occur to me to tell you about him, sir! We have +grown used to not speaking of him. He never goes out anywhere now." +Edward was puzzled and then an explanation flashed upon him. + +"He is insane!" he exclaimed. + +"Oh, no, sir! But he has always been delicate--not like other children; +and then the medicine they gave him when he had the pains and was a +baby--he has been obliged to keep it up. It is the morphine and opium, +sir, that has changed him." Edward nodded his head; the explanation was +sufficient. + +"He has lived here a long time, I presume?" + +"Yes, sir. He smokes and reads and paints and does many curious things, +but he never goes out. Sometimes he walks about the place, but generally +at night; and once or twice in the last ten years he has gone down-town, +but it excites him too much and he is apt to die away." + +"Die away?" + +"Yes, sir; the attacks come on him at any time, and so we let him live +on as he wants to and no one sees him. He cannot bear strangers, but he +is not insane, sir. One trouble is, he knows more than his head can +hold--he studies too much." She said this very tenderly and her voice +trembled a little as she finished and turned her face to work nervously. + +"You have not told me who he is." + +"I do not know, sir," and then she added: "He was a baby when I came, +and I have done my best by him." She did not meet his eyes. Her +suffering and embarrassment touched Edward. + +"I will read the papers," he said, gently; "they will tell me all." +Taking this as a dismissal the woman withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +"WHO SAYS THERE CAN BE A 'TOO LATE' FOR THE IMMORTAL MIND?" + + +Something like fear, a superstitious fear, arose in Edwards' heart as he +turned down the lid of the old-fashioned desk in the little room +upstairs and saw the few papers pigeon-holed there with lawyer-like +precision. On the top lay a long envelope sealed and bearing his name. +His hand shook as he held it and studied the chirography. The moment was +one to which he had looked forward for a lifetime and should contain the +explanation of the singular mystery that had environed him from infancy. + +As he held the letter, hesitating over the final act, his life passed in +review as, it is said, do the lives of drowning persons. The thought +that Edward Morgan was dying came in that connection. The orphan, the +lonely college boy, the wandering youth, the bohemian of a dozen +continental capitals, the musician and half-way metaphysicist and +theosophist, the unformed man of an unformed age, new sphere, one of +quick, earnest, feverish action, the new man, was to spring armed, or +hampered by--what? At that moment, by a strange revulsion, the life that +he had worn so hardly, so bitterly, even its sadness seemed dear and +beautiful. After all it had been a life of ease and many scenes. It had +no responsibilities--now it would pass! He tore open the envelope +impatiently and read: + + "Edward Morgan--Sir: When this letter comes to your knowledge + you will have been acquainted with the fact that my will has + made you heir to all my property, without legacy or + restriction. That document was made brief and simple, partly to + avoid complications, and partly to conceal facts with which the + public has no reasonable interest. I now, assured of your + character in every particular, desire that you retain during + the lifetime of Gerald Morgan the residence which has always + been his home, providing for his wants and pleasures freely as + I have done and leaving him undisturbed in the manner of his + life. I direct, further, that you extend the same care and + kindness to Rita Morgan, my housekeeper, seeing that she is not + disturbed in her home and the manner of her life. My object is + to guard the welfare of the only people intimately connected + with me by ties of friendship and association, whom I have not + already provided for. Carrying out this intention, you will as + soon as possible, after coming into possession, take + precautions looking to the future of Gerald Morgan and Rita + Morgan, my housekeeper, in the event of your own death; and the + plan to be selected in this connection I leave to your own good + sense and judgment, only suggesting as adviser for you Ellison + Eldridge, one of the few lawyers living whose heart is outside + of his pocketbook, and whose discretion is perfect. + + "John Morgan." + +That was all. + +The young man, dumfounded, turned over the single sheet of paper that +contained the whole message, examined again the envelope, read and +reread the communication, and finally laid it aside. Not one word of +explanation of his own (Edward's) existence no claim of relationship, no +message of sympathy, only the curt voice of an eccentric old man, +echoing beyond the black wall of mystery and already sunk into eternal +silence. The old life no longer seemed dear or beautiful. It returned +upon him with the dull weight of oppression he had known so long. It was +a bitter ending, a crushing, overwhelming disappointment. + +He smiled at length and lighted another cigar. His mind reverted to the +singular character whose final expression lay upon the desk. His last +act had been to guard against the curious, and that had included the +beneficiary. He had succeeded in living a mystery, in dying a mystery, +and in covering up his past with a mystery. + +"It was well done." Such was Edward's reflection spoken aloud. He +recalled the lines: "I now, assured of your character in every +particular." Every word in that laconic letter, as also every word in +the few communications made to him in life by this man, meant something. +What did these mean? "Assured" by whom? Who had spied upon his actions +and kept watch over him to such an extent as would justify the sweeping +confidences? But he knew that the testator had read him right. A faint +wave of pleasure flushed his cheek and warmed his heart when he realized +the full significance of this tribute to his true character. He no +longer felt like an intruder. + +And yet, "assured" by whom? And who was Gerald Morgan? Not a relative or +he would have said so; he would have said "my nephew, Gerald Morgan." +The same argument shut him (Edward) out. Why this suspicious absence of +relationship terms?--and they, both of them, Morgans and heirs to his +wealth? + +Again he dragged the papers from the desk and ran them over. Manuscripts +all, they contained detached accounts of widely separated people and +incidents, and moreover they were clearly briefed. "A Dramatic Trail," +"The Storm," "A Midnight Struggle," etc. They had no bearing upon his +life; they were the unpublished literary remains of John Morgan. + +Every paper lay exposed; the mine was exhausted. He again read the +letter slowly, idly lifted each paper and returned all to the desk. + +The cigar was out again; he tossed it from the window, locked the desk +and passed into the mother's room. The action was without forethought, +but his new philosophy had taught him the value of instinctive human +actions as index fingers. What cause then had drawn him into that +long-deserted room? As he reflected, his eyes rested upon the picture of +the girl in the little frame on the mantel. He started back, amazed and +overwhelmed. It was the face that had been turned to him in the +library--the face of Gerald Morgan! + +Edward was surprised to find himself standing by the open window when he +had exhausted the train of thought that the recognition put in motion, +and counting his heart-beats, ninety to the minute. By that curious +power or weakness of certain minds his thoughts ran entirely from the +matter in hand along the lines of a lecture his friend Virdow as Jean +had delivered, the theory of which was that organic heart disease, +unless fastened to its victim by inheritance, is always a mental result. +If a mere thought or combination of thoughts could excite, a thought +could depress. It was plain; he would write to Virdow confirming his +theory. + +Then he became conscious that the moon hung like a plate of silver in +the vast sky space of the east and that her light was flashed back by +many little points in the city beneath him--a gilt ball, a vane, a set +of window glasses, and the dew-wet slates of a modern roof. One white +spot was visible in the yard in front, white and pale as the moon when +the vapor had dispersed but set immovably. As he idly sought to unravel +its little secret, it simply became a part of the shadow and invisible, +but he felt that some one was looking up at him; and suddenly he saw the +slender figure of a man pass, cross the gravel walk and vanish in the +shrubbery on the left. + +Edward did not cry out; he stood musing upon the fact, and lo, there +came a glitter of rosy light along the horizon; the moon had vanished +overhead, and sound arose in confused murmurs from the dull heaps of +houses in the valley. He saw again at the moment, over the eastern +hills, the face of a girl as she stood calling her pets, and felt her +eyes upon him. + +When he awoke that day he found the sun far beyond the zenith and he lay +revolving in his mind the events of the night; to his surprise much of +the weight was gone and in its place was interest, the like of which he +had never before known. An object in life had suddenly been developed +and instinctively he felt that the study of this new mystery would lead +to a knowledge of himself and his past. + +The first thing to be done was to again see the stranger who had invaded +his library, and carry his investigation as far as this person would +permit. This in mind, he dressed himself with care and descended into +the dining-room. In a few moments his breakfast was served. Upon hearing +his inquiry for Rita, Ben, the butler, retired and presently the woman, +grave, and after a few words quiet, took his place. Before speaking +Edward noticed her closely again. About fifty years of age, perhaps +less, she stood as erect and rigid as an Indian, her black hair without +a kink. There was an easy dignity in her attitude, hardly the pose of a +slave, or one who had been. But in her face was the sadness of personal +suffering, and in her voice a tone he had noticed at first, an echo of +some depressing experience, it seemed to him. + +Where was Gerald's room? There! He had not noticed the door; it led out +from the dining-room. It was the wing intended for billiards, but now +the retreat of her poor young master and had been all his life. He did +not like to be disturbed, but perhaps the circumstances would make a +difference. + +Edward knocked on the door. Receiving no answer, he opened it +hesitatingly and looked in. Then he entered. Gerald greeted him with an +encouraging smile and closing the door behind him, he viewed the +interior with interest. The walls were hung with pictures, swords, guns, +pistols and other weapons, and between them on every available spot were +books, books, books and periodicals. A broad center table held writing +materials and manuscripts, and upon a long table by two open windows +were bottles of many colors and all the queer paraphernalia of a +chemical laboratory. Against the opposite wall was a spacious divan, and +seated upon it, wrapped in a singular-looking dressing-gown, fez upon +his head and smoking a shibouk as he read, was the strange being for +whom Edward searched. + +"I was expecting you," the young man said; "where have you been?" The +naturalness of the words confused the visitor for a moment. No seat had +been offered him, but he drew one near the divan. + +"I suppose I may smoke?" he said, smiling, ignoring the query, but the +intent look of Gerald caused him to add: "I slept late; how did you +rest?" + +"Do you know," said Gerald, his expression changing, "strange as it may +seem, I have seen you before, but where, where----" The long lashes +dropped above the eyes; he shook his head sadly, "but where, no man may +say." + +"It hardly seems possible," said Edward, gravely. "I have never been +here before, and you, I believe, have never been absent." + +"So they say; so they say. Mere old-nurse talk! I have been to many +places." Edward turned his head in sadness. Man or woman the person was +crazy. He looked again; it was the face of the girl in the picture +frame, grown older, with time and suffering. + +"It is an odd room," he said, presently; "do you sleep here?" + +Gerald nodded to the other door. + +"Would you like to see? Enter." + +To Edward's amazement he found himself in a conservatory, a glass house +about forty by twenty feet, arranged for sliding curtains at sides and +top. There was little to be seen besides a small bed and necessary +furniture. But an easel stood near the center and on it a canvas ready +for painting. In a corner was a large portfolio for drawings, closed. + +"I cannot sleep unless I see the stars," said Gerald, joining him. "And +there is an entrance to the grounds!" He threw open a glass door, +exposing an oleander avenue. "This is my favorite walk." The scene +seemed to strike him anew. He stood there lost in thought a moment and +returned to his divan. Edward found him absorbed in a volume. He had +studied him there long and keenly and reached a conclusion that would, +he felt, be of value in his future associations with this eccentric +mind; it was a mind reversed, living in abstract thought. Its visions of +real life were only glimpses. Therefore, he reasoned, to keep company +with such a mind, one must be prepared for its eccentricities and avoid +discord. + +It was a keen diagnosis and he acted upon it. He went about noiselessly +examining the furnishings of the room without further speech. The young +man was writing as he passed him. Looking over his shoulder, Edward read +a few lines of what was evidently a thesis; + + "The mind can therefore have no conscious memory. Memory being + a function of the brain and physical structure, and mind being + endowed with a capacity for wandering, it follows that it can + bring back no record of its experience since no memory function + went with it. It may, indeed, be true that the mind can itself + be shaped and biased anew by its detached experiences, but who + can ever read its history backwards? Unless somewhere arises a + mind brilliant enough to find the alphabet, to connect the + mind's hidden storehouse with consciousness, the mystery of + mind--life (that is, higher dream life)--must remain forever + unread." + +"It has been found," said Edward, as though Gerald had stated a +proposition aloud. + +"How? Where?" Gerald did not look up, but merely ceased writing a +moment. + +"Music is the connecting link. Music is the language of the mind. +Vibration is the secret of creation and along its lines will all secrets +be revealed." The book closed slowly in the reader's hands, his thesis +slipped to the floor. He sat in deep thought. Then a light gleamed in +his face and eyes. + +"It is true," he said, with agitation, as he arose. "It is a great +thought; a great discovery. I must learn once" and Rita stood waiting. +"Bring me musical instruments--what?" He turned impatiently to Edward. +The latter shook his head. + +"'Tis a lifetime study," he said, sadly, "and then--failure. No man has +yet reached the end." + +"I will reach it." + +"It calls for labor day and night--for talent--for teachers." + +"I will have all." + +"It calls for youth, for a mind young and fresh and responsive. You are +old in mind. It is too late." + +"Too late. Too late. Never, never, never too late. Who says there can be +a 'too late' for the immortal mind? I will begin. I will labor! I will +succeed! If not in this life, then in the next, or the next; aye, at the +foot of Buddha, if need be, I will press to read all to the strains of +music. Oh, blind! Blind! Blind!" He strode about the room in an ecstasy +of excitement. + +"Prove to me it is too late here," shrieked the unhappy being, "and I +will end this existence; will go back a thousand cycles, if necessary, +carrying with me the impression of this truth, and begin, an infant, to +lisp in numbers." + +He had snatched a poniard from the wall and was gesticulating +frantically. Edward was about to speak when he saw the enthusiast's eyes +lose their frenzy and fix upon the woman's. He dropped the weapon and +plunged face downward in despair among the pillows. Like a statue the +woman stood gazing upon him. + +"My violin," said Edward. She disappeared noiselessly. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"BACK! WOULD YOU MURDER HER?" + + +When Edward Morgan went to Europe from Columbia college it was in +obedience to a mandate of John Morgan through the New York lawyers. He +went, began there the life of a bohemian. Introduced by a chance +acquaintance, he fell in first with the art circles of Paris, and, +having a fancy and decided talent for painting, he betook himself +seriously to study. But the same shadow, the same need of an +overpowering motive, pursued him. With hope and ambition he might have +become known to fame. As it was, his mind drifted into subtleties and +the demon change came again. He closed his easel. Rome, Athens, +Constantinople, the occident, all knew him, gave him brief welcome and +quick farewells. + +The years were passing; as he had gone from idleness to art, from art to +history, and from history to archaeology by easy steps, so he passed +now, successively to religion, to philosophy, and to its last broad +exponent, theosophy. + +The severity of this last creed fitted the crucifixion of his spirit. +Its contemplation showed him vacancies in his education and so he went +to Jena for additional study. This decision was reached mainly through +the suggestion of a chance acquaintance named Abingdon, who had come +into his life during his first summer on the continent. They met so +often that the face of this man had became familiar, and one day, glad +to hear his native tongue, he addressed him and was not repelled. + +Abingdon gave to Edward Morgan his confidence; it was not important; a +barrister in an English interior town, he crossed the channel annually +for ramble in the by-ways of Europe. It had been his unbroken habit for +many years. + +From this time the two men met often and journeyed much together, the +elder seeming to find a pleasure in the gravity and earnestness of the +young man, and he in turn a relief in the nervous, jerky lawyer, looking +always through small, half-closed eyes and full of keen conceptions. And +when apart, occasionally he would get a characteristic note from +Abingdon and send a letter in reply. He had so much spare time. + +This man had once surprised him with the remark: + +"If I were twenty years younger I would go to Jena and study vibration. +It is the greatest force of the universe. It is the secret of creation." +The more Edward dwelt upon this remark, in connection with modern +results and invention, the more he was struck with it. Why go to Jena to +study vibration was something that he could not fathom, nor in all +probability could Abingdon. America was really the advanced line of +discovery, but nevertheless he went, and with important results; and +there in the old town, finding the new hobby so intimately connected +with music, to which he was passionately devoted, he took up with +renewed energy his neglected violin. With feverish toil he struggled +along the border land of study and speculation, until he felt that there +was nothing more possible for him--in Jena. + +In Jena his solitary friend had been the eminent Virdow and to him he +became an almost inseparable companion. + +The confidence and speculations of Virdow, extending far beyond the +limits of a lecture stand, carried Edward into dazzling fields. The +intercourse extended through the best part of several years. On leaving +Jena he was armed with a knowledge of the possibilities of the vast +field he had entered upon, with a knowledge of thorough bass and +harmony, and with a technique that might have made him famous had he +applied his knowledge. He did not apply it! + +His final stand had been Paris. Abingdon was there. Abingdon had +discovered a genius and carried Edward to see him. He had been passing +through an obscure quarter when he was attracted by the singular pathos +of a violin played in a garret. To use his expression, "the music +glorified the miserable street." Everybody there knew Benoni, the blind +violinist. And to this man, awed and silent, came Edward, a listener. + +No words can express the meaning that lay in the blind man's +improvisations; only music could contain them. And only one man in Paris +could answer! When having heard the heart language, the heart history +and cravings of the player expressed in the solitude of that +half-lighted garret, Edward took the antique instrument and replied, the +answer was overwhelming. The blind man understood; he threw his arms +about the player and embraced him. + +"Grand!" he cried. "A master plays, but it is incomplete; the final note +has not come; the harmony died where it should have become immortal!" +And Edward knew it. + +From that meeting sprang a warm friendship, the most complete that +Morgan had ever known! It made the old man comfortable, gained him +better quarters and broadened the horizon toward which his sun of life +was setting. It would go down with some of the colors of its morning. + +It became Edward's custom to take his old friend to hear the best operas +and concerts, and one night they heard the immortal Cambia sing. It was +a charity concert and her first appearance in many years. + +When the idol of the older Paris came to the footlights for the sixth +time to bow her thanks for the ovation given her, she smiled and sang in +German a love song, indescribable in its passion and tenderness. It was +a burst of melody from the heart of some man, great one moment in his +life at least. Edward found himself standing when the tumult ceased. +Benoni had sunk from his chair to his knees and was but half-conscious. +The excitement had partially paralyzed him. The lithe fingers of the +left hand were dead. They would never rest again upon the strings of his +great violin--the Cremona to which in sickness and poverty, although its +sale would have enriched him, he clung with the faith and instinct of +the artist. + +There came the day when Edward was ready to depart to America. He went +to say good-bye, and this is what happened: The old man held Edward's +hands long in silence, but his lips moved in prayer; then lifting the +instrument, he placed it in the young man's arms. + +"Take it," he said. "I may never meet you again. It is the one thing +that I have been true to all my life. I will not leave it to the base +and heartless." And so Edward, to please him, accepted the trust. He +would return some day; many hours should the violin sing for the old +man. As he stood he drew the bow and played one strain of Cambia's song +and the blind man lifted his face in sudden excitement. As Edward paused +he called the notes until it was complete. "Now again," he said, +singing: + + If thou couldst love me + As I do love thee, + Then wouldst thou come to me, + Come to me. + Never forsaking me, + Never, oh, never + Forsaking me. + Oceans may roll between, + Thine home and thee + Love, if thou lovest me + Lovest me, + What care we, you and I? + Through all eternity, + I love thee, darling one, + Love me; love me. + +"You have found the secret," said Benoni; "the chords on the lower +octaves made the song." + +And so they had parted! The blind man to wait for the final summons; the +young man to plunge into complications beyond his wildest dreams. + +"A man," said Virdow once, "is a tribe made up of himself, his family +and his friends." And this was the history in outline of the man to whom +Rita Morgan handed the violin that fateful day when Gerald lay face down +among the pillows of his divan. + +Recognizing in the delicate and excitable organism before him the +possibilities of emotion and imagination, Edward prepared to play. +Without hesitation he drew the bow across the strings and began a solemn +prelude to a choral. And as he played he noticed the heaving form below +him grow still. Then Gerald lifted his face and gazed past the player, +with an intensity of vision that deepened until he seemed in the grasp +of some stupendous power or emotion. Edward played the recital; the +story of Calvary, the crucifixion and the mourning women, and the march +of soldiers. Finally there came the tumult of bursting storm and riven +tombs. The climax of action occurred there; it was to die away into a +movement fitted to the resurrection and the peaceful holiness of +Christ's meeting with Mary. But before this latter movement began Gerald +leaped upon the player with the quickness and fury of a tiger and by the +suddenness of the onset nearly bore him to the floor. This mad assault +was accompanied by a shriek of mingled fear and horror. + +"Back--would you murder her?" By a great effort Edward freed himself and +the endangered violin, and forced the assailant to the divan. The +octoroon was kneeling by his side weeping. + +"Leave him to me," she said. Stunned and inexpressibly shocked Edward +withdrew. The grasp on his throat had been like steel! The marks +remained. + +"I have," he wrote that night in a letter to Virdow, "heard you more +than once express the hope that you would some day be able to visit +America. Come now, at once! I have here entered upon a new life and need +your help. Further, I believe I can help you." + +After describing the circumstances already related, the letter +continued: "The susceptibility of this mind to music I regard as one of +the most startling experiences I have ever known, and it will afford you +an opportunity for testing your theories under circumstances you can +never hope for again. Let me say to you here that I am now convinced by +some intuitive knowledge that the assault upon me was based upon a +memory stirred by the sound of the violin; that vibration created anew +in the delicate mind some picture that had been forgotten and brought +back again painful emotions that were ungovernable. I cannot think but +that it is to have a bearing upon the concealed facts of my life; the +discovery of which is my greatest object now, as in the past. And I +cannot but believe that your advice and discretion will guide me in the +treatment and care of this poor being, perhaps to the extent of +affecting a radical change, and leave him a happier and a more rational +being. + +"Come to me, my friend, at once! I am troubled and perplexed. And do not +be offended that I have inclosed exchange for an amount large enough to +cover expenses. I am now rich beyond the comprehension of your +economical German mind, and surely I may be allowed, in the interests of +science, of my ward and myself to spend from the abundant store. I look +for you early. In the meantime, I will be careful in my experiments. +Come at once! _The mind has an independent memory and you can +demonstrate it._" + +Edward knew that there was more on that concluding sentence than in the +rest of the letter and exchange combined, and half-believing it, he +stated it as a prophecy. He was preparing to retire, when it occurred to +him that the strange occupant of the wing-room might need his attention. +Something like affection had sprung up in his heart for the unfortunate +being who, with chains heavier than his own, had missed the diversion of +new scenes, the broadening, the soothing of great landscapes and +boundless oceans. A pity moved him to descend and to knock at the door. +There was no answer. He entered to find the apartment deserted, but the +curtain was drawn from the doorway of the glass-room and he passed in. +Upon the bed in the yellow light of the moon lay the slender figure of +Gerald, one arm thrown around the disordered hair, the other hanging +listless from his side. + +He approached and bent above the bed. The face turned upward there +seemed like wax in the oft-broken gloom. The sleeper had not stirred. It +was the vibration of chords in harmony, that had moved him. Would it +have power again? He hesitated a moment, then returned quickly to the +wing-room and secured his instrument. Concealing himself he waited. It +was but a moment. + +The wind brought the branches of the nearest oleanders against the frail +walls, and the play of lightning had become continuous. Then began in +earnest the tumult of the vast sound waves as they met in the vapory +caverns of the sky. The sleeper tossed restlessly upon his bed; he was +stirred by a vague but unknown power; yet something was wanting. + +At this moment Edward lifted his violin and, catching the storm note, +wove a solemn strain into the diapason of the mighty organ of the sky. +And as he played, as if by one motion, the sleeper stood alone in the +middle of the room. Again Edward saw that frenzied stare fixed upon +vacancy, but there was no furious leap of the agile limbs; by a powerful +effort the struggling mind seemed to throw off a weight and the sleeper +awoke. + +The bow was now suspended; the music had ceased. Gerald rushed to his +easel and, standing in a sea of electric flame, outlined with swift +strokes a woman's face and form. She was struggling in the grasp of a +man and her face was the face of the artist who worked. But such +expression! Agony, horror, despair! + +The figure of the man was not complete from the waist down; his face was +concealed. Between them, as they contended, was a child's coffin in the +arms of the woman. Overhead were the bare outlines of an arch. + +The artist hesitated and added behind the group a tree, whose branches +seemed to lash the ground. And there memory failed; the crayon fell from +his fingers; he stood listless by the canvas. Then with a cry he buried +his face in his hands and wept. + +As he stood thus, the visitor, awed but triumphant, glided through the +door and disappeared in the wing-room. He knew that he had touched a +hidden chord; that the picture on the canvas was born under the +flashlight of memory! Was it brain? Oh, for the wisdom of Virdow! + +Sympathy moved him to return again to the glass-room. It was empty! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +ON THE BACK TRAIL. + + +Edward found himself next day feverish and mentally disturbed; but he +felt new life in the morning air. There was a vehicle available; a roomy +buggy, after the fashion of those chosen by physicians, with covered +tops to keep out the sun, and rubber aprons for the rain. And there was +a good reliable horse, that had traveled the city road almost daily for +ten years. + +He finished his meal and started out. In the yard he found Gerald pale +and with the contracted pupils that betrayed his deadly habit. He was +taking views with a camera and came forward with breathless interest. + +"I am trying some experiments with photographs on the line of our +conversation," he said. "If the mind pictures can be revived they must +necessarily exist. Do they? The question with me now is, can any living +substance retain a photographic impression? You understand, it seems +that the brain can receive these impressions through certain senses, but +the brain is transient; through a peculiar process of supply and waste +it is always coming and going. If it is true that every atom of our +physical bodies undergoes a change at least once in seven years, how can +the impressions survive? I have here upon my plate the sensitized film +of a fish's eyes; I caught it this morning. I must establish, first, the +proposition that a living substance can receive a photographic image; if +I can make an impression remain upon this film I have gained a little +point--a little one. But the fish should be alive. There are almost +insuperable difficulties, you understand! The time will come when a new +light will be made, so powerful, penetrating as to illumine solids. +Then, perhaps, will the brain be seen at work through the skull; then +may its tiny impressions even be found and enlarged; then will the past +give up its secrets. And the eye is not the brain." He looked away in +perplexity. "If I only had brain substance, brain substance--a living +brain!" He hurried away and Edward resumed his journey to the city, sad +and thoughtful. + +"It was not wise," he said, "it was not wise to start Gerald upon that +line of thought. And yet why not as well one fancy as another?" He had +no conception of the power of an idea in such a mind as Gerald's. + +"You did not mention to me," he said an hour later, sitting in +Eldridge's office, "that I would have a ward in charge out at Ilexhurst. +You naturally supposed I knew it, did you not?" + +"And you did not know it?" Eldridge looked at him in unaffected +astonishment. + +"Positively not until the day after I reached the house! I had never +heard of Gerald Morgan. You can imagine my surprise, when he walked in +upon me one night." + +"You really astound me; but it is just like old Morgan--pardon me if I +smile. Of all eccentrics he was the most consistent. Yes, you have a +charge and a serious one. I am probably the only person in the city who +knows something of Gerald, and my information is extremely limited. With +an immense capacity for acquiring information, a remarkable memory and a +keen analysis, the young man has never developed the slightest capacity +for business. He received everything, but applied nothing. I was +informed by his uncle, not long since, that there was no science exact +or occult into which Gerald had not delved at some time, but his mind +seemed content with simply finding out." + +"Gerald has been a most prodigious reader, devouring everything," +continued the judge, "ancient and modern, within reach, knows literature +and politics equally well, and is master of most languages to the point +of being able to read them. I suppose his unfortunate habit--of course +you know of that--is the obstacle now. For many years now I believe, the +young man has not been off the plantation, and only at long intervals +was he ever absent from it. Ten or fifteen years ago he used to be seen +occasionally in the city in search of a book, an instrument or something +his impatience could not wait on." + +"Ten or fifteen years ago! You knew him then before he was grown?" + +"I have known him ever since his childhood!" An exclamation in spite of +him escaped from Edward's lips, but he did not give Eldridge time to +reflect upon it. + +"Is his existence generally known?" asked he, in some confusion. + +"Oh, well, the public knows of his existence. He is the skeleton in +Morgan's closet, that is all." + +"And who is he?" asked Edward, looking the lawyer straight into the +eyes. + +"That," said Eldridge, gravely, "is what I would ask of you." Edward was +silent. He shook his head; it was an admission of ignorance, confirmed +by his next question. + +"Have you no theory, Judge, to account for his existence under such +circumstances?" + +"Theory? Oh, no! The public and myself have always regarded him simply +as a fact. His treatment by John Morgan was one of the few glimpses we +got of the old man's rough, kind nature. But his own silence seemed to +beg silence, and no one within my knowledge ever spoke with him upon the +subject. It would have been very difficult," he added, with a smile, +"for he was the most unapproachable man, in certain respects, that I +ever met." + +"You knew him well? May I ask if ever within your knowledge there was +any romance or tragedy in his earlier life?" + +"I do not know nor have I ever heard of any tragedy in the life of your +relative," said the lawyer, slowly; and then, after a pause: "It is +known to men of my age, at least remembered by some, that late in life, +or when about forty years old, he conceived a violent attachment for the +daughter of a planter in this county and was, it is said, at one time +engaged to her. The match was sort of family arrangement and the girl +very young. She was finishing her education at the north and was to have +been married upon her return; but she never returned. She ran away to +Europe with one of her teachers. The war came on and with it the +blockade. No one has ever heard of her since. Her disappearance, her +existence, were soon forgotten. I remember her because I, then a young +lawyer, had been called occasionally to her father's house, where I met +and was greatly impressed by her. But I am probably one of the few who +have carried in mind her features. She was a beautiful and lovable young +woman, but, without a mother's training she had grown up self-willed and +the result was as I have told you." Edward had risen and was walking the +floor. He paused before the speaker. + +"Judge Eldridge," he said, his voice a little unsteady, "I am going to +ask you a question, which I trust you will be free to answer--will +answer, and then forget." An expression of uneasiness dwelt on the +lawyer's face, but he answered: + +"Ask it; if I am free to answer, and can, I will." + +"I will ask it straight," said Edward, resolutely: "Have you ever +suspected that Gerald Morgan is the son of the young woman who went +away?" + +Eldridge's reply was simply a grave bow. He did not look up. + +"You do not know that to be a fact?" + +"I do not." + +"What, then, is my duty?" + +"To follow the directions left by your relative," said Eldridge, +promptly. + +Edward reflected a few moments over the lawyer's answer. + +"I agree with you, but time may bring changes. May I ask what is your +theory of this strange situation--as regards my ward?" He could not +bring himself to betray the fact of his own mystery. + +"I suppose," said Eldridge, slowly, "that if your guess is correct the +adventure of the lady was an unfortunate one, and that, disowned at +home, she made John Morgan the guardian of her boy. She, more than +likely, is long since dead. It would have been entirely consistent with +your uncle's character if, outraged in the beginning, he was forgiving +and chivalrous in the end." + +"But why was the silence never broken?" + +"I do not know that it was never broken. I have nothing to go upon. I +believe, however, that it never was. The explanations that suggest +themselves to my mind are, first, a pledge of silence exacted from him, +and he would have kept such a pledge under any circumstances. Second, a +difficulty in proving the legitimacy of the boy. You will understand," +he added, "that the matter is entirely suppositious. I would prefer to +think that your uncle saw unhappiness for the boy in a change of +guardianship, and unhappiness for the grandfather, and left the matter +open. You know he died suddenly." + +There was silence of a few moments and Eldridge added: "And yet it does +seem that he would have left the old man something to settle the doubt +which must have rested upon his mind; it is an awful thing to lose a +daughter from sight and live out one's life in ignorance of her fate." +And then, as Edward made no reply, "you found nothing whatever to +explain the matter?" + +"Nothing! In the desk, to which his note directed me, I found only a +short letter of directions; one of which was that I should arrange with +you to provide for Gerald's future in case of my death. The desk +contained nothing else except some manuscripts--fragmentary narratives +and descriptions, they seemed." Eldridge smiled. + +"His one weakness," he said. "Years ago John Morgan became impressed +with the idea that he was fitted for literary work and began to write +short stories for magazines, under _nom de plume_. I was the only person +who shared his secret and together we told many a good story of bench, +bar and practice. Neither of us had much invention and our career--you +see I claim a share--our career was limited to actual occurrences. When +our stock of ammunition was used up we were bankrupt. But it was a +success while it lasted. Mr. Morgan had a rapid, vivid style of +presenting scenes; his stories were full of action and dramatic +situations and made quite a hit. I did not know he had any writings left +over. He used to say, though, as I remember now, speaking in the +serio-comic way he often affected, that the great American novel, so +long expected, lay in his desk in fragments. You have probably gotten +among these. + +"And by the way," continued the judge, impressively, "he was not far +wrong in his estimate of the literary possibilities of this section. The +peculiar institutions of the south, its wealth, its princely planters, +and through all the tangle of love, romance, tragedy and family secrets. +And what a background! The war, the freed slaves, the old +regime--courtly, unchanged, impractical and helpless. Turgeneff wrote +under such a situation in Russia, and called his powerful novel 'Fathers +and Sons.' Mr. Morgan used to say that he was going to call his 'Sons +and Fathers.' Hold to his fragments; he was a close observer, and if you +have literary aspirations they will be suggestive." Edward shook his +head. + +"I have none, but I see the force of your outline. Now about Gerald; I +trust you will think over the matter and let me know what your judgment +suggests. I promised Mr. Montjoy to drop in at the club. I will say +good-morning." + +"No," said Eldridge, "it is my lunch hour and I will go with you." + +Together they went to a business club and Edward was presented to a +group of elderly men who were discussing politics over their glasses. +Among them was Col. Montjoy, in town for a day, several capitalists, a +planter or two, lawyers and physicians. They regarded the newcomer with +interest and received him with perfect courtesy. "A grand man your +relative was, Mr. Morgan, a grand man; perfect type, sir, of the +southern gentleman! The community, sir, has met with an irreparable +loss. I trust you will make your home here, sir. We need good men, sir; +strong, brainy, energetic men, sir." + +So said the central figure, Gen. Albert Evan. + +"Montjoy, you remember cousin Sam Pope of the Fire-Eaters--died in the +ditch at Marye's Heights near Cobb? Perfect likeness of Mr. Morgan here; +same face same figure--pardon the personal allusion, Mr. Morgan, but +your prototype was the bravest of the brave. You do each other honor in +the resemblance, sir! Waiter, fill these glasses! Gentlemen," cried the +general, "we will drink to the health of our young friend and the memory +of Sam Pope. God bless them both." + +Such was Edward's novel reception, and he would not have been human had +he not flushed with pleasure. The conversation ran back gradually to its +original channel. + +"We have been congratulating Col. Montjoy, Mr. Morgan," said one of the +party in explanation to Morgan, "upon the announcement of his candidacy +for congress." + +"Ah," said the latter, promptly bowing to the old gentleman, "let me +express the hope that the result will be such as will enable me to +congratulate the country. I stand ready, colonel, to lend my aid as far +as possible, but I am hampered somewhat by not knowing my own politics +yet. Are you on the Democratic or Republican ticket, colonel?" + +This astonishing question silenced the conversation instantly and drew +every eye upon him. But recovering from his shock, Col. Montjoy smiled +amiably, and said: + +"There is but one party in this state, sir--the Democratic. I am a +candidate for nomination, but nomination is election always with us." +Then to the others present he added: "Mr. Morgan has lived abroad since +he came of age--I am right, am I not, Mr. Morgan?" + +"Quite so. And I may add," continued Edward, who was painfully conscious +of having made a serious blunder, "that I have never lived in the south +and know nothing of state politics." This would have been sufficient, +but unfortunately Edward did not realize it. "I know, however, that you +have here a great problem and that the world is watching to see how you +will handle the race question. I wish you success; the negro has my +sympathy and I think that much can be safely allowed him in the +settlement." + +He remembered always thereafter the silence that followed this earnest +remark, and he had cause to remember it. He had touched the old south in +its rawest point and he was too new a citizen. Eldridge joined him in +the walk back, but Edward let him talk for both. The direction of his +thoughts was indicated in the question he asked at parting. + +"Judge Eldridge, did you purposely withhold the girl's name--my uncle's +fiancee? If so, I will not ask it, but----" + +"No, not purposely, but we handle names reluctantly in this country. She +was Marion Evan, and you but recently met her father." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE TRAGEDY IN THE STORM. + + +Edward returned to Ilexhurst that evening conscious of a mental +uneasiness. He could not account for it except upon the hypothesis of +unusual excitement. His mind had simply failed to react. And yet to his +sensitive nature there was something more. Was it the conversation with +Eldridge and the sudden dissipation of his error concerning Gerald, or +did it date to the meeting in the club? There was a discord somewhere. +He became conscious after awhile that he had failed to harmonize with +his new acquaintances and that among these was Col. Montjoy. He seemed +to feel an ache as though a cold wind blew upon his heart. If he had not +made that unfortunate remark about the negro! He acquitted himself very +readily, but he could not forget that terrible silence. "I have great +sympathy for the negro," he had said. What he meant was that, secure in +her power and intelligence, her courage and advancement, the south could +safely concede much to the lower class. That is what he felt and +believed, but he had not said it that way. He would say it to-morrow to +Col. Montjoy and explain. Relief followed the resolution. + +And then, sitting in the little room, which began to exert a strange +power over him, he reviewed in mind the strange history of the people +whose lives had begun to touch his. The man downstairs, sleeping off the +effects of the drug, taken to dull a feverish brain that had all day +struggled with new problems; what a life his was! Educated beyond the +scope of any single university, Eldridge had said, and yet a child, less +than a child! What romance, what tragedies behind those restless eyes! +And sleeping down yonder by the river in that eternal silence of the +city of the dead, the old lawyer, a mystery living, a mystery dead! What +a depth of love must have stirred the bosom of the man to endure in +silence for so many years for the sake of a fickle girl! What +forgiveness! Or was it revenge? This idea flashed upon Edward with the +suddenness of an inspiration. Revenge! What a revenge! And the woman, +was she living or dead? And if living, were her eyes to watch him, +Edward Morgan, and his conduct? Where was the father and why was the +grandfather ignorant or silent? Then he turned to his own problem. That +was an old story. As he sat dreaming over these things his eyes fell +upon the fragmentary manuscripts, and almost idly he began to read the +briefs upon them. + +One was inscribed, "The Storm," and it seemed to be the bulkiest. +Opening it he began to read; before he knew it he was interested. The +chapter read: + +"Not a zephyr stirred the expectant elms. They lifted their arms against +the starlit sky in shadowy tracery, and motionless as a forest of coral +in the tideless depths of a southern sea. + +"The cloud still rose. + +"It was a cloud indeed. It stretched across the west, far into north and +south, its base lost in the shadow, its upper line defined and advancing +swiftly, surely, flanking the city and shutting out the stars with its +mighty wings. Far down the west the lightning began to tear the mass, +but still the spell of silence remained. When this strange hush is +combined with terrific action, when the vast forces are so swift as to +outrun sound, then, indeed, does the chill of fear leap forth. + +"So came on the cloud. Now the city was half surrounded, its walls +scaled. Half the stars were gone. Some of the flying battalions had even +rushed past! + +"But the elms stood changeless, immovable, asleep! + +"Suddenly one vivid, crackling, tearing, defending flash of intensest +light split the gloom and the thunder leaped into the city! It awoke +then! Every foundation trembled! Every tree dipped furiously. The winds +burst in. What a tumult! They rushed down the parallel streets and +alleys, these barbarians; they came by the intersecting ways! They +fought each other frantically for the spoils of the city, struggling +upward in equal conflict, carrying dust and leaves and debris. They were +sucked down by the hollow squares, they wept and mourned, they sobbed +about doorways, they sung and cheered among the chimneys and the +trembling vanes. They twisted away great tree limbs and hurled them far +out into the spaces which the lightning hollowed in the night! They +drove every inhabitant indoors and tugged frantically at the city's +defenses! They tore off shutters and lashed the housetops with the poor +trees! + +"The focus of the battle was the cathedral! It was the citadel! Here was +wrath and frenzy and despair! The winds swept around and upward, with +measureless force, and at times seemed to lift the great pile from its +foundations. But it was the lashing trees that deceived the eye; it +stood immovable, proud, strong, while the evil ones hurled their +maledictions and screamed defiance at the very door of God's own heart. + +"In vain. In a far up niche stood a weather-beaten saint--the warden. +The hand of God upheld him and kept the citadel while unseen forces +swung the great bell to voice his faith and trust amid the gloom! + +"Then came the deluge, huge drops, bullets almost, in fierceness, +shivering each other until the street-lamps seemed set in driving fog +through which the silvered missiles flashed horizontally--a storm +traveling within a storm. + +"But when the tempest weeps, its heart is gone. Hark! 'Tis the voice of +the great organ; how grand, how noble, how triumphant! One burst of +melody louder than the rest breaks through the storm and mingles with +the thunder's roar. + +"Look! A woman! She has come, whence God alone may know! She totters +toward the cathedral; a step more and she is safe, but it is never +taken! One other frightened life has sought the sanctuary. In the grasp +of the tempest it has traveled with wide-spread wings; a great white sea +bird, like a soul astray in the depths of passion. It falls into the +eddy, struggles wearily toward the lights, whirls about the woman's head +and sinks, gasping, dying at her feet. The God-pity rises within her, +triumphing over fear and mortal anguish. She stands motionless a moment; +she does not take the wanderer to her bosom, she cannot! The winds have +stripped the cover from the burden in her arms! It is a child's coffin, +pressed against her bosom. The moment of safety is gone! In the next a +man, the seeming incarnation of the storm itself, springs upon her, +tears the burden from her and disappears like a shadow within a shadow! + +"Within the cathedral they are celebrating the birth of Christ, without, +the elements repeat the scene when the veil of the temple was rended. + + * * * * * + +"The storm had passed. The lightning still blazed vividly, but silently +now, and at each flash the scene stood forth an instant as though some +mighty artist was making pictures with magnesium. A tall woman, who had +crouched, as one under the influence of an overpowering terror near the +inner door, now crept to the outer, beneath the arch, and looked +fearfully about. She went down the few steps to the pavement. Suddenly +in the transient light a face looked up into hers, from her feet; a face +that seemed not human. The features were convulsed, the eyes set. With a +low cry the woman slipped her arms under the figure on the pavement, +lifted it as though it were that of a child and disappeared in the +night. The face that had looked up was as white as the lily at noon; the +face bent in pity above it was dark as the leaves of that lily scattered +upon the sod." + +Edward read this and smiled, as he laid it aside, and continued with the +other papers. They were brief sketches and memoranda of chapters; +sometimes a single sentence upon a page, just as his friend De +Maupassant used to jot them down one memorable summer when they had +lingered together along the Riviera, but they had no connection with +"The Storm" and the characters therein suggested. If they belonged to +the same narrative the connections were gone. + +Wearied at last he took up his violin and began to play. It is said that +improvisers cannot but run back to the music they have written. +"Calvary" was his masterpiece and soon he found himself lost in its +harmonies. Then by easy steps there rose in memory, as he played, the +storm and Gerald's sketch. He paused abruptly and sat with his bow idle +upon the strings, for in his mind a link had formed between that sketch +and the chapter he had just read. He had felt the story was true when he +read it. The lawyer had said John Morgan wrote from life. Here was the +first act of a drama in the life of a child, and the last, perhaps, in +the life of a woman. + +And that child under the influence of music had felt the storm scene +flash upon his memory and had drawn it. The child was Gerald Morgan. + +Edward laid aside the violin for a moment, went into the front room, +threw open the shutters and loosened his cravat. Something seemed to +suffocate him, as he struggled against the admission of this +irresistible conclusion. Overwhelmed with the significance of the +discovery, he exclaimed aloud: "It was an inherited memory." + +But if the boy had been born under the circumstances set forth in the +sketch, who was the man, and why should he have assaulted the woman who +bore the child's coffin? And what was she doing abroad under such +circumstances? The man and the woman's object was hidden perhaps +forever. But not so the woman; the artist had given her features, and as +for the other woman, the author had said she was dark. There was in +Gerald's mind picture no dark woman; only the girl with the coffin, the +arch above and the faint outlines of bending trees! + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"GOD PITY ME! GOD PITY ME!" + + +Edward was sitting thus lost in the contemplation of the circumstances +surrounding him, when by that subtle sense as yet not analyzed he felt +the presence of another person in the room, and looked over his +shoulder. Gerald was advancing toward him smiling mysteriously. Edward +noticed his burning eyes and saw intense mental excitement gleaming +beyond. The man's mood was different from any he had before revealed. + +"So you have been out among the friends of your family," he said, with +his queer smile. "How did you like them?" Edward was distinctly offended +by the supercilious manner and impertinent question, but he remembered +his ward's condition and resentment passed from him. + +"Pleasant people, Gerald, but I am not gifted with the faculty of making +friends easily. How come on your experiments?" + +The visitor's expression changed. He looked about him guardedly. "They +advance," he replied, in a whisper; "they advance!" + +Whatever his motive for entering that room--a room unfamiliar to him, +for his restless eyes had searched it over and over in the few minutes +he had been in it--was forgotten in the enthusiasm of the scientist. "I +have mapped out a course and am working toward it," he said; and then +presently: "You remember that pictures can now be transmitted by +electricity across great stretches of space and flashed upon a disc? So +goes the scene from the convex surface of the eye along a thread-like +nerve, so flashed the picture in the brain. But somewhere there it +remains. How to prove it, to prove it, that is the question! Oh, for a +brain, a brain to dissect!" He glared at Edward, who shuddered under the +wildness of the eyes bent upon him. "But time enough for that; I must +first ascertain if a picture can be imprinted upon any living substance +by light, and remain. This I can do in another way." + +"How?" Edward was fascinated. + +"It is a great idea. The fish's eye will not do; it is itself a camera +and the protecting film is impression-proof. It lacks the gelatine +surface, but over some fish is spread the real gelatine--in fact, the +very stuff that sensitive plates rely upon. In our lake is a great bass, +that swims deep. I have caught them weighing ten and twelve pounds. They +are pale, greenish white until exposed to the light, when they darken. +If the combined action of the light and air did not actually destroy +this gelatine, they would turn black. The back, which daily receives the +downward ray direct, is as are the backs of most fishes, dark; it is a +spoiled plate. But not so the sides. It is upon this fish I am preparing +to make pictures." + +"But how?" Gerald smiled and shook his head. + +"Wait. It is too important to talk about in advance." + +Edward regarded him long and thoughtfully and felt rising within him a +greater sympathy. It was pitiful that such a mind should die in the +embrace of a mere drug, dragged down to destruction by a habit. "Beyond +the scope of any single university," but not beyond the slavery of a +weed. + +"I have been thinking, Gerald," he said, finally, fixing a steady gaze +upon the restless eyes of his visitor, "that the day is near at hand +when you must bring to your rescue the power of a great will." + +Gerald listened, grew pale and remained silent. Presently he turned to +the speaker. + +"You know, then. Tell me what to do." + +"You must cease the use of morphine and opium." + +Gerald drew a deep breath and smiled good-naturedly. + +"Oh, that is it," he said; "some one has told you that I am a victim of +morphine and opium. Well, what would you think if I should tell you he +is simply mistaken?" + +His face was frank and unclouded. Edward gazed upon him, incredulous. +After a moment's pause, during which Gerald enjoyed his astonishment, he +continued: + +"I was once a victim; there is no doubt of that; but now I am cured. It +was a frightful struggle. A man who has not experienced it or witnessed +it can form no conception of what it means to break away from habitual +use of opium. Some day you may need it and my experience will help you. +I began by cutting my customary allowance for a day in half, and day +after day, week after week, I kept cutting it in half until the time +came when I could not divide it with a razor. Would you believe it, the +habit was as strong in the end as the beginning? I lay awake and thought +of that little speck by the hours; I tossed and cried myself to sleep +over it! I slept and wept myself awake. The only remedy for this and all +habits is a mental victory. I made the fight--I won! + +"I can never forget that day," and he smiled as he said it; "the day I +found it impossible to divide the speck of opium; a breath would have +blown it away, but I would have murdered the man who breathed upon it. I +swallowed it; the touch of that atom is yet upon my tongue; I swallowed +it and slept like a child; and then came the waking! For days I was a +maniac--but it passed. + +"I grew into a new life--a beautiful, peaceful world. It had been around +me all the time but I had forgotten how it looked; a blissful world! I +was cured. + +"Years have passed since that day, and no taste of the hateful drug has +ever been upon my tongue. Not for all the gold in the universe, not for +any secrets of science, not for a look back into the face of my mother," +he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet; "not for a smile from heaven +would I lay hands upon that fiend again!" + +He closed abruptly, his hand trembling, the perspiration beading his +brow. His eyes fell and the woman Rita stood before them, a look of +ineffable sadness and tenderness upon her face. + +"Will you retire now, Master Gerald?" she said, gently. Without a word +he turned and left the room. She was about to follow when Edward, +excited and touched by the scene he had witnessed and full of +discoveries, stopped her with an imperious gesture. + +For a moment he paced the room. Rita was motionless, awaiting with +evident nervousness his pleasure. He came and stood before her, and, +looking her steadily in the face, said, abruptly: + +"Woman, what is the name of that young man, and what is mine?" + +She drew back quickly and her lips parted in a gasp. + +"My God!" he heard her whisper. + +"I demand an answer! You carry the secret of one of us--probably both. +Which is the son of Marion Evans?" + +She sank upon her knees and hid her face in her apron. + +It was all true, then. Edward felt as though he himself would sink down +beside her if the silence continued. + +"Say it," he said, hoarsely; "say it!" + +"As God is my judge," she answered, faintly, "I do not know." + +"One is?" + +"One is." + +"And the other--who is he?" + +"Mine." The answer was like a whisper from the pines wafted in through +the open window. It was loud enough. Edward caught the chair for +support. The world reeled about him. He suffocated. + +Rita still knelt with covered head, but her trembling form betrayed the +presence of the long-restrained emotions. He walked unsteadily to the +mantel, and, drawing the cover from the little picture, went to the +mirror and placed it again by his face. At length he said in despair: + +"God pity me! God pity me!" + +The woman arose then and took the picture and gazed long and earnestly +upon it. A sob burst from her lips. Lifting it again to the level of the +man's face, she looked from one to the other. + +"Enough!" he said, reading it aright. + +Despair had settled over his own face. She handed back the little +likeness, and, clasping her hands, stood in simple dignity awaiting his +will. He noticed then, as he studied her countenance closely, the lines +of suffering there; the infallible record that some faces carry, which, +whether it stands for remorse, for patience, for pure, unbroken sorrow, +is always a consecration. + +"Master, it must have come some time," she said, at length, "but I have +hoped it would not be through me." Her voice was just audible. + +"Be seated," said Morgan. "If your story is true, and it may be so, you +should not stand." He turned away from her and walked to the window; she +was seeking for an opening to begin her story. He began for her: + +"You crouched in a church door to avoid the storm; a woman seeking +shelter there appeared just outside. She was attacked by a man and fell +to the ground unconscious; you carried her off in your arms; her child +was born soon after, and what then?" + +Amazed she stared at him a moment in silence. + +"And mine was born! The fright, the horror, the sickness! It was a +terrible dream; a terrible dream! But a month afterward, I was here +alone with two babies at my breast and the mother was gone. God help me, +and help her! But in that time Master John says I lost the memory of my +child! Master Gerald I claimed, but his face was the face of Miss +Marion, and he was white and delicate like her. And you, sir, were dark. +And then I had never been a slave; John Morgan's father gave me my +liberty when I was born. I lived with him until my marriage, then after +my husband's death, which was just before this storm, they brought me +here and I waited. She never came back. Master Gerald was sickly always +and we kept him, but they sent you away. Master John thought it was +best. And the years have passed quickly." + +"And General Evan--did he never know?" + +"No, sir; I would not let them take Master Gerald, because I believed he +was my child; and Master John, I suppose, would not believe in you. The +families are proud; we let things rest as they were, thinking Miss +Marion would come back some day. But she will not come now; she will not +come!" + +The miserable secret was out. After a long silence Edward lifted his +head and said with deep emotion: "Then, in your opinion, I am your son?" +She looked at him sadly and nodded. + +"And in the opinion of John Morgan, Gerald is the son of Marion Evans?" +She bowed. + +"We have let it stand that way. But you should never have known! I do +not think you were ever to have known." The painful silence that +followed was broken by his question: + +"Gerald's real name?" + +"I do not know! I do not know! All that I do know I have told you!" + +"And the child's coffin?" She pressed her hand to her forehead. + +"It was a dream; I do not know!" + +He gazed upon her with profound emotion and pity. + +"You must be tired," he said, gently. "Think no more of these troubles +to-night." + +She turned and went away. He followed to the head of the stairs and +waited until he heard her step in the hall below. + +"Good-night," he had said, gravely. And from the shadowy depths below +came back a faint, mournful echo of the word. + +When Edward returned to the room he sat by the window and buried his +face upon his arm. Hour after hour passed; the outer world slept. Had he +been of the south, reared there and a sharer in its traditions, the +secret would have died with him that night and its passing would have +been signaled by a single pistol shot. But he was not of the south, in +experience, association or education. + +It was in the hush of midnight that he rose from his seat, took the +picture and descended the steps. The wing-room was never locked; he +entered. Through the drawn curtains of the glass-room he saw the form of +Gerald lying in the moonlight upon his narrow bed. Placing the picture +beside the still, white face of the sleeper, he was shocked by the +likeness. One glance was enough. He went back to his window again. + +One, two, three, four o'clock from the distant church steeple. + +How the solemn numbers have tolled above the sorrow-folds of the human +heart and echoed in the dewless valleys of the mind, the depths to which +we sink when hope is gone! + +But with the dawn what shadows flee! + +So came the dawn at last; the pale, tremulous glimmer on the eastern +hills, the white light, the rosy flush and then in the splendor of +fading mists the giant sun rolled up the sky. + +A man stood pale and weary before the open window at Ilexhurst. "The +odds are against me," he said, grimly, "but I feel a power within me +stronger than evidence. I will match it against the word of this woman, +though every circumstance strengthened that word. The voice of the +Caucasian, not the voice of Ethiopia, speaks within me! The woman does +not believe herself; the mother's instinct has been baffled, but not +destroyed!" + +And yet again, the patrician bearing, the aristocrat! Such was Gerald. + +"We shall see," he said, between his teeth. "Wait until Virdow comes!" + +Nevertheless, when, not having slept, he arose late in the day, he was +almost overwhelmed with the memory of the revelation made to him, and +the effect it must have upon his future. + +At that moment there came into his mind the face of Mary. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +IN THE CRIMSON OF SUNSET. + + +Edward left the house without any definite idea of how he would carry on +the search for the truth of his own history, but his determination was +complete. He did not enter the dining-room, but called for his buggy and +drove direct to the city. He wished to see neither Rita nor Gerald until +the tumult within him had been stilled. His mind was yet in a whirl when +without previous resolution he turned his horse in the direction of "The +Hall" and let it choose its gait. The sun was low when he drew up before +the white-columned house and entered the yard. Mary stood in the doorway +and smiled a welcome, but as he approached she looked into his face in +alarm. + +"You have been ill?" she said, with quick sympathy. + +"Do I look it?" he asked; "I have not slept well. Perhaps that shows +upon me. It is rather dreary work this getting acquainted." He tried to +deceive her with a smile. + +"How ungallant!" she exclaimed, "to say that to me, and so soon after we +have become acquainted." + +"We are old acquaintances, Miss Montjoy," he replied with more +earnestness than the occasion justified. "I knew you in Paris, in Rome, +even in India--I have known you always." She blushed slightly and turned +her face away as a lady appeared leading a little girl. + +"Here is Mr. Morgan, Annie; you met him for a moment only, I believe." + +The newcomer extended her hand languidly. + +"Any one whom Norton is so enthusiastic about," she said, without +warmth, "must be worth meeting a second time." + +Her small eyes rested upon the visitor an instant. Stunned as he had +been by large misfortunes, he felt again the unpleasant impression of +their first meeting. Whether it was the manner, the tone of voice, the +glance or languid hand that slipped limply from his own, or all +combined, he did not know; he did not care much at that time. The young +woman placed the freed hand over the mouth of the child begging for a +biscuit, and without looking down said: + +"Mary, get this brat a biscuit, please. She will drive me distracted." +Mary stooped and the Duchess leaped into her arms, happy at once. Edward +followed them with his eyes until they reached the end of the porch and +Mary turned a moment to receive additional directions from the young +mother. He knew, then, where he had first seen her. She was a little +madonna in a roadside shrine in Sicily, distinct and different from all +the madonnas of his acquaintance, in that she seemed to have stepped up +direct from among the people who knelt there; a motherly little woman in +touch with every home nestling in those hills. The young mother by him +was watching him with curiosity. + +"I have to thank you for a beautiful picture," he said. + +"You are an artist, I suppose?" + +"Yes; a dilletante. But the picture of a woman with her child in her +arms appeals to most men; to none more than those who never knew a +mother nor had a home." He stopped suddenly, the blood rushed to his +face and brain, and he came near staggering. He had forgotten for the +moment. + +He recovered, to find the keen eyes of the woman studying him intently. +Did she know, did she suspect? How this question would recur to him in +all the years! He turned from her, pale and angry. Fortunately, Mary +returned at this moment, the little one contentedly munching upon its +biscuit. The elder Mrs. Montjoy welcomed him with her motherly way, +inquiring closely into his arrangements for comfort out at Ilexhurst. +Who was caring for him? Rita! Well, that was fortunate; Rita was a good +cook and good housekeeper, and a good nurse. He affected a careless +interest and she continued: + +"Yes, Rita lived for years near here. She was a free woman and as a +professional nurse accumulated quite a sum of money, and then her +husband dying, John Morgan had taken her to his house to look after a +young relative who had been left to his care. What has become of this +young person?" she asked. "I have not heard of him for many years." + +"He is still there," said Edward, briefly. + +And then, as they were silent, he continued: "This woman Rita had a +husband; how did they manage in old times? Was he free also? You see, +since I have become a citizen your institutions have a deal of interest +for me. It must have been inconvenient to be free and have someone else +owning the husband." + +He was not satisfied with the effort; he could not restrain an +inclination to look toward the younger Mrs. Montjoy. She was leaning +back in her chair, with eyes half-closed, and smiling upon him. He could +have strangled her cheerfully. The elder lady's voice recalled him. + +"Her husband was free also; that is, it was thought that she had bought +him," and she smiled over the idea. + +A slanting sunbeam came through the window; they were now in the +sitting-room and Mary quickly adjusted the shade to shield her mother's +face. + +"Mamma is still having trouble with her eyes," she said; "we cannot +afford to let her strain the sound one." + +"My eyes do pain me a great deal," the elder Mrs. Montjoy said. "Did you +ever have neuralgia, Mr. Morgan? Sometimes I think it is neuralgia. I +must have Dr. Campbell down to look at my eyes. I am afraid----" she did +not complete the sentence, but the quick sympathy of the man helped him +to read her silence aright. Mary caught her breath nervously. + +"Mary, take me to my room; I think I will lie down until tea. Mr. Morgan +will be glad to walk some, I am sure; take him down to the mill." She +gave that gentleman her hand again; a hand that seemed to him eloquent +with gentleness. "Good-night, if I do not see you again," she said. "I +do not go to the table now on account of the lamp." He felt a lump in +his throat and an almost irresistible desire to throw himself upon her +sympathy. She would understand. But the next instant the idea of such a +thing filled him with horror. It would banish him forever from the +portals of that proud home. + +And ought he not to banish himself? He trembled over the mental +question. No! His courage returned. There had been some horrible +mistake! Not until the light of day shone on the indisputable fact, not +until proof irresistible had said: "You are base-born! Depart!" When +that hour came he would depart! He saw Mary waiting for him at the door; +the young mother was still watching him, he thought. He bowed and strode +from the room. + +"What is it?" said the girl, quickly; "you seem excited." She was +already learning to read him. + +"Do I? Well, let me see; I am not accustomed to ladies' society," he +said, lightly; "so much beauty and graciousness have overwhelmed me." He +was outside now and the fresh breeze steadied him instantly. + +There was a sun-setting before them that lent a glow to the girl's face +and a new light to her eyes. He saw it there first and then in the +skies. Across a gentle slope of land that came down from a mile away on +the opposite side into their valley the sun had gone behind a shower. +Out on one side a fiery cloud floated like a ship afire, and behind it +were the lilac highlands of the sky. The scene brought with it a strange +solemnity. It held the last breath of the dying day. + +The man and girl stood silent for a moment, contemplating the wonderful +vision. She looked into his face presently to find him sadly and +intently watching her. Wondering, she led the way downhill to where a +little boat lay with its bow upon the grassy sward which ran into the +water. Taking one seat, she motioned him to the other. + +"We have given you a Venetian water-color sunset," she said, smiling +away her embarrassment, "and now for a gondola ride." Lightly and +skillfully plying the paddle the little craft glided out upon the lake, +and presently, poising the blade she said, gayly: + +"Look down into the reflection, and then look up! Tell me, do you float +upon the lake or in the cloudy regions of heaven?" He followed her +directions. Then, looking steadily at her, he said, gently: + +"In heaven!" She bent over the boat side until her face was concealed, +letting her hand cool in the crimson water. + +"Mr. Morgan," she said after awhile, looking up from under her lashes, +"are you a very earnest man? I do not think I know just how to take you. +I am afraid I am too matter-of-fact." + +He was feverish and still weighed down by his terrible memory. "I am +earnest now, whatever I may have been," he said, softly, "and believe +me, Miss Montjoy, something tells me that I will never be less than +earnest with you." + +She did not reply at once, but looked off into the cloudlands. + +"You have traveled much?" she said at length, to break the awkward +silence. + +"I suppose so. I have never had what I could call a home and I have +moved about a great deal. Men of my acquaintance," he continued, +musingly, "have been ambitious in every line; I have watched them in +wonder. Most of them sacrifice what would have been my greatest pleasure +to possess--mother and sister and home. I cannot understand that phase +of life; I suppose I never will." + +"Then you have never known a mother?" + +"Never." There was something in his voice that touched her deeply. + +"To miss a mother's affection," she said, with a holy light in her brown +eyes, "is to miss the greatest gift heaven can bestow here. I suppose a +wife somehow takes a mother's place, finally, with every man, but she +cannot fill it. No woman that ever lived can fill my mother's place." + +Loyal little Mary! He fancied that as she thought upon her own remark +her sensitive lips curved slightly. His mind reverted to the sinister +face that they had left in the parlor. + +"Your mother!" he exclaimed, fervently; "would to heaven I had such a +mother!" He paused, overcome with emotion. She looked upon him with +swimming eyes. + +"You must come often, then," she said, softly, "and be much with us. I +will share her with you. Poor mamma! I am afraid--I am afraid for her!" +She covered her face with her hands suddenly and bowed her head. + +"Is she ill, so ill as all that?" he asked, greatly concerned. + +"Oh, no! That is, her eyesight is failing; she does not realize it, but +Dr. Campbell has warned us to be careful." + +"What is the trouble?" He was now deeply distressed. + +"Glaucoma. The little nerve that leads from the cornea to the brain +finally dies away; there is no connection, and then----" she could not +conclude the sentence. + +Edward had never before been brought within the influence of such a +circle. Her words thrilled him beyond expression. He waited a little +while and said: + +"I cannot tell you how much my short experience here has been to me. The +little touch of motherly interest, of home, has brought me more genuine +pleasure than I thought the world held for me. You said just now that +you would share the dear little mamma with me. I accept the generous +offer. And now you must share the care of the little mamma with me. Do +not be offended, but I know that the war has upset your revenues here in +the south, and that the new order of business has not reached a paying +basis. By no act of mine I am independent; I have few responsibilities. +Why may not I, why may not you and I take the little mamma to Paris and +let the best skill in the world be invoked to save her from sorrow?" He, +too, would not, after her failure, say "blindness." + +She looked at him through tears that threatened to get beyond control, +afraid to trust her voice. + +"You have not answered me," he said, gently. She shook her head. + +"I cannot. I can never answer you as I would. But it cannot be, it +cannot be! If that course were necessary, we would have gone long ago, +for, while we are poor, Norton could have arranged it--he can can +arrange anything. But Dr. Campbell, you know, is famous for his skill. +He has even been called to Europe in consultation. He says there is no +cure, but care of the general health may avert the blow all her life. +And so we watch and wait." + +"Still," he urged, "there may be a mistake. And the sea voyage----" + +She shook her head. "You are very, very kind, but it cannot be." + +It flashed over Edward then what that journey would have been. He, with +that sweet-faced girl, the little madonna of his memory, and the patient +mother! In his mind came back all the old familiar places; by his side +stood this girl, her hand upon his arm, her eyes upturned to his. + +And why not! A thrill ran through his heart: he could take his wife and +her mother to Paris! He started violently and leaned forward in the +boat, his glowing face turned full upon her, with an expression in it +that startled her. + +Then from it the color died away; a ghastly look overspread it. He +murmured aloud: + +"God be merciful! It cannot be." She smiled pitifully. + +"No," she said, "it cannot be. But God is merciful. We trust Him. He +will order all things for the best!" Seeing his agitation she continued: +"Don't let it distress you so, Mr. Morgan. It may all come out happily. +See, the skies are quite clear now; the clouds all gone! I take it as a +happy augury!" + +Ashamed to profit by her reading of his feelings, he made a desperate +effort to respond to her new mood. She saw the struggle and aided him. +But in that hour the heart of Mary Montjoy went out for all eternity to +the man before her. Change, disaster, calumny, misfortune, would never +shake her faith and belief in him. He had lost in the struggle of the +preceding night, but here he had won that which death only could end, +and perhaps not death. + +Slowly they ascended the hill together, both silent and thoughtful. He +took her little hand to help her up the terraces, and, forgetting, held +it until, at the gate, she suddenly withdrew it in confusion and gazed +at him with startled eyes. + +The tall, soldierly form of the colonel, her father, stood at the top of +the steps. + +"See," said Edward, to relieve her confusion, "one of the old knights +guarding the castle!" + +And then she called out, gayly: + +"Sir knight, I bring you a prisoner." The old gentleman laughed and +entered into the pleasantry. + +"Well, he might have surrendered to a less fair captor! Enter, prisoner, +and proclaim your colors," Edward started, but recovered, and, looking +up boldly, said: + +"An honorable knight errant, but unknown until his vow is fulfilled." +They both applauded and the supper bell rang. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE OLD SOUTH VERSUS THE NEW. + + +Edward had intended returning to Ilexhurst after tea, but every one +inveighed against the announcement. Nonsense! The roads were bad, a +storm was possible, the way unfamiliar to him! John, the stable boy, had +reported a shoe lost from the horse! And besides, Norton would come out +and be disappointed at having missed him! + +And why go? Was the room upstairs not comfortable? He should have +another! Was the breakfast hour too early? His breakfast should be sent +to his room! + +Edward was in confusion. It was his first collision with the genuine, +unanswerable southern hospitality that survives the wreck of all things. +He hesitated and explained and explaining yielded. + +Supper over, the two gentlemen sat upon the veranda, a cool breeze +wandering in from the western rain area and rendering the evening +comfortable. Mary brought a great jar of delicious tobacco, home raised, +and a dozen corn-cob pipes, and was soon happy in their evident comfort. +As she held the lighter over Edward's pipe he ventured one glance upward +into her face, and was rewarded with a rare, mysterious smile. It was a +picture that clung to him for many years; the girlish face and tender +brown eyes in the yellow glare of the flame, the little hand lifted in +his service. It was the last view of her that night, for the southern +girl, out of the cities, is an early retirer. + +"The situation is somewhat strained," said the colonel; they had reached +politics; "there is a younger set coming on who seem to desire only to +destroy the old order of things. They have had the 'new south' dinged +into their ears until they had come to believe that the old south holds +nothing worth retaining. They are full of railroad schemes to rob the +people and make highways for tramps; of new towns and booms, of +colonization schemes, to bring paupers into the state and inject the +socialistic element of which the north and west are heartily tired. They +want to do away with cotton and plant the land in peaches, plums, +grapes," here he laughed softly, "and they want to give the nigger a +wheeled plow to ride on. It looks as if the whole newspaper fraternity +have gone crazy upon what they call intensive and diversified farming. +Not one of them has ever told me what there is besides cotton that can +be planted and will sell at all times upon the market and pay labor and +store accounts in the fall. + +"And now they have started in this country the 'no-fence' idea and are +about to destroy our cattle ranges," continued the colonel, excitedly. +"In addition to these, the farmers have some of them been led off into a +'populist' scheme, which in its last analysis means that the government +shall destroy corporations and pension farmers. In national politics we +have, besides, the silver question and the tariff, and a large element +in the state is ready for republicanism!" + +"That is the party of the north, I believe," said Edward. + +"Yes, the party that freed the negro and placed the ballot in his hands. +We are so situated here that practically our whole issue is 'white +against black.' We cannot afford to split on any question. We are +obliged to keep the south solid even at the expense of development and +prosperity. The south holds the Saxon blood in trust. Regardless of law, +of constitution, of both combined, we say it is her duty to keep the +blood of the race pure and uncontaminated. I am not prepared to say that +it has been done with entire success; two races cannot exist side by +side distinct. But the Spaniards kept their blue blood through +centuries! + +"The southern families will always be pure in this respect; they are +tenderly guarded," the colonel went on. "Other sections are in danger. +The white negro goes away or is sent away; he is unknown; he is changed +and finds a foothold somewhere. Then some day a family finds in its +folds a child with a dark streak down its spine--have you dropped your +pipe? The cobs really furnish our best smokers, but they are hard to +manage. Try another--and it was known that somewhere back in the past an +African taint has crept in." + +"You astound me," said Edward, huskily; "is that an infallible sign?" + +"Infallible, or, rather, indisputable if it exists. But its existence +under all circumstances is not assured." + +"And what, Mr. Montjoy, is the issue between you and Mr. Swearingen--I +understand that is his name--your opponent in the campaign for +nomination?" + +"Well, it is hard to say. He has been in congress several terms and +thinks now he sees a change of sentiment. He has made bids for the +younger and dissatisfied vote. I think you may call it the old south +versus the new--and I stand for the old south." + +"Where does your campaign open? I was in England once during a political +campaign, about my only experience, if you except one or two incipient +riots in Paris, and I would be glad to see a campaign, in Georgia." + +"We open in Bingham. I am to speak there day after to-morrow and will be +pleased to have you go with us. A little party will proceed by private +conveyance from here--and Norton is probably detained in town to-night +by this matter. The county convention meets that day and it has been +agreed that Swearingen and I shall speak in the morning. The convention +will assemble at noon and make a nomination. In most counties primary +elections are held." + +"I shall probably not be able to go, but this county will afford me the +opportunity I desire. By the way, colonel, your friends will have many +expenses in this campaign, will they not? I trust you will number me +among them and not hesitate to call upon me for my share of the +necessary fund. I am a stranger, so to speak, but I represent John +Morgan until I can get my political bearings accurately adjusted." The +colonel was charmed. + +"Spoken like John himself!" he said. "We are proud, sir, to claim you as +one of us. As to the expenses, unfortunately, we have to rely on our +friends. But for the war, I could have borne it all; now my +circumstances are such that I doubt sometimes if I should in perfect +honor have accepted a nomination. It was forced on me, however. My +friends named me, published the announcement and adjourned. Before +heaven, I have no pleasure in it! I have lived here since childhood, +barring a term or two in congress before the war and four years with Lee +and Johnston, and my people were here before me. I would be glad to end +my days here and live out the intervening ones in sight of this porch. +But a man owes everything to his country." + +Edward did not comment upon the information; at that moment there was +heard the rumble of wheels. Norton, accompanied by a stranger, alighted +from a buggy and came rapidly up the walk. The colonel welcomed his son +with the usual affection and the stranger was introduced as Mr. Robley +of an adjoining county. The men fell to talking with suppressed +excitement over the political situation and the climax of it was that +Robley, a keen manager, revealed that he had come for $1,000 to secure +the county. He had but finished his information, when Norton broke in +hurriedly: + +"We know, father, that this is all outside your style of politics, and I +have told Mr. Robley that we cannot go into any bargain and sale +schemes, or anything that looks that way. We will pay our share of +legitimate expenses, printing, bands, refreshments and carriage hire, +and will not inquire too closely into rates, but that is as far----" + +"You are right, my son! If I am nominated it must be upon the ballots of +my friends. I shall not turn a hand except to lessen their necessary +expenses and to put our announcements before the public. I am sure that +this is all that Mr. Robley would consent to." + +"Why, of course," said that gentleman. And then he looked helpless. +Edward had risen and was pacing the veranda, ready to withdraw from +hearing if the conversation became confidential. Norton was excitedly +explaining the condition of affairs in Robley's county, and that +gentleman found himself at leisure. Passing him Edward attracted his +attention. + +"You smoke, Mr. Robley?" He offered a cigar and nodded toward the far +end of the veranda. "I think you had better let Mr. Montjoy explain +matters to his father," he said. Robley joined him. + +"How much do you need?" said Edward; "the outside figure, I mean. In +other words, if we wanted to buy the county and be certain of getting +it, how much would it take?" + +"Twenty-five hundred--well, $3,000." + +"Let the matter drop here, you understand? Col. Montjoy is not in the +trade. I am acting upon my own responsibility. Call on me in town +to-morrow; I will put up the money. Now, not a word. We will go back." +They strolled forward and the discussion of the situation went on. +Robley grew hopeful and as they parted for the night whispered a few +words to Norton. As the latter carried the lamp to Edward's room, he +said: + +"What does this all mean; you and Robley----" + +"Simply," said Edward, "that I am in my first political campaign and to +win at any cost." + +Norton looked at him in amazement and then laughed aloud. + +"You roll high! We shall win if you don't fail us." + +"Then you shall win." They shook hands and parted. Norton passing his +sister's room, paused in thought, knocked lightly, and getting no reply, +went to bed. Edward turned in, not to sleep. His mind in the silent +hours rehearsed its horrors. He arose at the sound of the first bell and +left for the city, not waiting for breakfast. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +FEELING THE ENEMY. + + +Edward Morgan plunged into the campaign with an energy and earnestness +that charmed the younger Montjoy and astonished the elder. Headquarters +were opened, typewriters engaged, lists of prominent men and party +leaders obtained and letters written. Col. Montjoy was averse to writing +to his many personal friends in the district anything more than a formal +announcement of his candidacy over his own signature. + +"That is all right, father, but if you intend to stick to that idea the +way to avoid defeat is to come down now." But the old gentleman +continued to use his own form of letter. It read: + + "My Dear Sir: I beg leave to call your attention to my + announcement in the Journal of this city, under date of July + 13, wherein, in response to the demands of friends, I consented + to the use of my name in the nomination for congressman to + represent this district. With great respect, I am, sir, your + obedient servant, + + "Norton L. Montjoy." + +He dictated this letter, gave the list to the typewriter, and announced +that when the letters were ready he would sign them. The son looked at +him quizzically: + +"Don't trouble about that, father. You must leave this office work to +us. I can sign your name better than you can. If you will get out and +see the gentlemen about the cotton warehouses you can help us +wonderfully. You can handle them better than anybody in the world." The +colonel smiled indulgently on his son and went off. He was proud of the +success and genius of his one boy, when not grieved at his departure +from the old-school dignity. And then Norton sat down and began to +dictate the correspondence, with the list to guide him. + + "Dear Jim," he began, selecting a well-known friend of his + father, and a companion in arms. "You have probably noticed in + the Journal the announcement of my candidacy for the + congressional nomination. The boys of the old 'Fire-Eaters' did + eat. I am counting on you; you stood by me at Seven Pines, + Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville and a dozen other tight + places, and I have no fear but that your old colonel will find + you with him in this issue. It is the old south against the + riffraff combination of carpetbaggers, scalawags and jaybirds + who are trying to betray us into the hands of the enemy! My + opponent, Swearingen, is a good man in his way, but in devilish + bad company. See Lamar of Company C, Sims, Ellis, Smith and all + the old guard. Tell them I am making the stand of my life! My + best respects to the madam and the grandchildren! God bless + you. Do the best you can. Yours fraternally, + + "N. L. Montjoy." + + "P. S. Arrange for me to speak at your court house some day + soon. Get an early convention called. We fight better on a + charge--old Stonewall's way. + + "N. L. M." + +This letter brought down the house; the house in this instance standing +for a small army of committeemen gathered at headquarters. Norton was +encouraged to try again. + + "The Rev. Andrew Paton, D. D.--Dear Andrew: I am out for + congress and need you. Of course we can't permit you to take + your sacred robes into the mire of politics, but, Andrew, we + were boys together, before you were so famous, and I know that + nothing I can bring myself to ask of you can be refused. A word + from you in many quarters will help. The madam joins me in + regards to you and yours. Sincerely. + + "N. L. Montjoy." + + "P. S. Excuse this typewritten letter, but my hand is old, and + I cannot wield the pen as I did when we put together that first + sermon of yours. + + "M." + +This was an addendum in "the colonel's own handwriting" and it closed +with "pray for me." The letter was vociferously applauded and passers-by +looked up in the headquarters windows curiously. These addenda in the +colonel's own handwriting tickled Norton's fancy. He played upon every +string in the human heart. When he got among the masons he staggered a +little, but managed to work in something about "upright, square and +level." "If I could only have got a few signals from the old gentleman," +he said, gayly, "I would get the lodges out in a body." + +Norton was everywhere during the next ten days. He kept four typewriters +busy getting out "personal" letters, addressing circulars and marking +special articles that had appeared in the papers. One of his sayings +that afterward became a political maxim was: "If you want the people to +help you, let them hear from you before election." And in this instance +they heard. + +Within a few days a great banner was stretched across the street from +the headquarters window, and a band wagon, drawn by four white horses, +carried a brass band and flags bearing the legend: + + "Montjoy at the Court House + Saturday Night." + +Little boys distributed dodgers. + +Edward, taking the cue, entered with equal enthusiasm into the comedy. +He wanted to do the right thing, and he had formed an exaggerated idea +of the influence of money in political campaigns. He hung a placard at +the front door of the Montjoy headquarters that read: + +"One thousand dollars to five hundred that Montjoy is nominated." + +He placed a check to back it in the secretary's hands. This announcement +drew a crowd and soon afterward a quiet-appearing man came in and said: + +"I have the money to cover that bet. Name a stake-holder." + +One was named. Edward was flushed with wine and enthused by the friendly +comments his bold wager had drawn out. + +"Make it $2,000 to $1,000?" he asked the stranger. + +"Well," was the reply, "it goes." + +"Make it $10,000 to $5,000?" said Edward. + +"No!" + +"Ten thousand to four thousand?" + +"No!" + +"Ten thousand to three thousand?" + +"No!" The stranger smiled nervously and, saluting, withdrew. The crowd +cheered until the sidewalk was blockaded. The news went abroad: "Odds of +300 to 100 have been offered on Montjoy, and no takers." + +Edward's bet had the effect of precipitating the campaign in the home +county; it had been opening slowly, despite the rush at the Montjoy +headquarters. The Swearingen men were experienced campaigners and worked +more by quiet organization than display. Such men know when to make the +great stroke in a campaign. The man who had attempted to call young +Morgan's hand had little to do with the management of the Swearingen +campaign, but was engaged in a speculation of his own, acting upon a +hint. + +But the show of strength at the Montjoy headquarters was at once used by +the Swearingen men to stir their friends to action, lest they be bluffed +out of the fight. Rival bands were got out, rival placards appeared and +handbills were thrown into every yard. + +And then came the first personalities, but directed at Edward only. An +evening paper said that "A late citizen, after half a century of +honorable service, and although but recently deceased, seemed to have +fallen into betting upon mundane elections by proxy." And elsewhere: "A +certain class of people and their uncle's money are soon divorced." Many +others followed upon the same line, clearly indicating Edward Morgan, +and with street-corner talk soon made him a central figure among the +Montjoy forces. Edward saw none of these paragraphs, nor did he hear the +gossip of the city. + +This continued for days; in the meantime Edward took Norton home with +him at night and generally one or two others accompanied them. Finally +it came to be settled that Norton and Edward were old friends, and the +friends of Montjoy senior looked on and smiled. + +The other side simply sneered, swore and waited. + +Information of these things reached Mary Montjoy. Annie, the +sister-in-law, came into the city and met her cousin, Amos Royson, the +wild horseman who collided with the Montjoy team upon the night of +Edward's first appearance. This man was one of the Swearingen managers. +His relationship to Annie Montjoy gave him entrance to the family +circle, and he had been for two years a suitor for Mary's hand. + +Royson took a seat in the vehicle beside his cousin and turned the +horse's head toward the park. Annie Montjoy saw that he was in an ugly +mood, and divined the reason. She possessed to a remarkable degree the +power of mind-reading and she knew Amos Royson better than he knew +himself. + +"Tell me about this Edward Morgan, who is making such a fool of +himself," he said abruptly. "He is injuring Col. Montjoy's chances more +than we could ever hope to, and is really the best ally we have!" + +She smiled as she looked upon him from under the sleepy lids, "Why, +then, are you not pleased?" + +"Oh, well, you know, Annie, the unfortunate fact remains that you are +one of the family. I hate to see you mixed up in this matter and a +sharer in the family's downfall." + +"You do not think enough of me to keep out of the way." + +"I cannot control the election, Annie. Swearingen will be elected with +or without my help. But you know my whole future depends upon +Swearingen. Who is Edward Morgan?" + +"Oh, Edward Morgan! Well, you know, he is old John Morgan's heir, and +that is all I know; but," and she laughed maliciously, "he is what +Norton calls 'a rusher,' not only in politics, but elsewhere. He has +seen Mary, and--now you know why he is so much interested in this +election." Amos turned fiercely upon her and involuntarily drew the +reins until the horse stopped. He felt the innuendo and forgot the +thrust. + +"You cannot mean----" he began, and then paused, for in her eyes was a +triumph so devilish, so malicious, that even he, knowing her well, could +not bring himself to gratify it. He knew that she had never forgiven him +for his devotion to Mary. + +"Yes, I mean it! If ever two people were suddenly, hopelessly, foolishly +infatuated with each other that same little hypocritical chit and this +stranger are the two. He is simply trying to put his intended +father-in-law into congress. Do you understand?" + +The man's face was white and only with difficulty could he guide the +animal he was driving. She continued, with a sudden exhibition of +passion: "And Mary! Oh, you should just hear her say 'Ilexhurst'! She +will queen it out there with old Morgan's money and heir, and we----" +she laughed bitterly, "we will stay out yonder, keep a mule boarding +house and nurse sick niggers--that is all it amounts to; they raise corn +half the year and hire hands to feed it out the other half; and the +warehouses get the cotton. In the meantime, I am stuck away out of sight +with my children!" Royson thought over this outburst and then said +gravely: + +"You have not yet answered my question. Who is Edward Morgan--where did +he come from?" + +"Go ask John Morgan," she said, scornfully and maliciously. He studied +long the painted dashboard in front of him, and then, in a sort of awe, +looked into her face: + +"What do you mean, Annie?" She would not turn back; she met his gaze +with determination. + +"Old Morgan has educated and maintained him abroad all his life. He has +never spoken of him to anybody. You know what stories they used to tell +of John Morgan. Can't you see? Challenged to prove his legal right to +his name he couldn't do it." The words were out. The jealous woman took +the lines from his hands and said, sneeringly: "You are making a fool of +yourself, Amos, by your driving, and attracting attention. Where do you +want to get out? I am going back uptown." He did not reply. Dazed by the +fearful hint he sat looking ahead. When she drew rein at a convenient +corner he alighted. There was a cruel light in his gray eyes. + +"Annie," he said, "the defeat of Col. Montjoy lies in your information." + +"Let it," she exclaimed, recklessly. "He has no more business in +congress than a child. And for the other matter, I have myself and my +children's name to protect." + +And yet she was not entirely without caution. She continued: + +"What I have told you is a mere hint. It must not come back to me nor +get in print." She drove away. With eyes upon the ground Royson walked +to his office. + +Amos Royson was of the new south entirely, but not its best +representative. His ambition was boundless; there was nothing he would +have left undone to advance himself politically. His thought as he +walked back to his office was upon the words of his cousin. In what +manner could this frightful hint be made effective without danger of +reaction? At this moment he met the man he was plotting to destroy, +walking rapidly toward the postoffice with Norton Montjoy. The latter +saluted him, gayly, as he passed: + +"Hello, Amos! We have you on the run, my boy!" Amos made no reply to +Norton, nor to Edward's conventional bow. As they passed he noted the +latter's form and poetical face, then somewhat flushed with excitement, +and seemed to form a mental estimate of him. + +"Cold-blooded devil, that fellow Royson," said Norton, as he ran over +his letters before mailing them; "stick a knife in you in a minute." + +But Royson walked on. Once he turned, looked back and smiled +sardonically. "They are both in a bad fix," he said, half-aloud. "The +man who has to look out for Annie is to be pitied." + +At home Annie gave a highly colored account of all she had heard in town +about Edward, made up chiefly of boasts of friends who supposed that her +interest in Col. Montjoy's nomination was genuine, of Norton's report +and the sneers of enemies, including Royson. These lost nothing in the +way of color at her hands. Mary sought her room and after efforts sealed +for Edward this letter: + + "You can never know how grateful we all are for your interest + and help, but our gratitude would be incomplete if I failed to + tell you that there is danger of injuring yourself in your + generous enthusiasm. You must not forget that papa has enemies + who will become yours. This we would much regret, for you have + so much need of friends. Do not put faith in too many people, + and come out here when you feel the need of rest. I cannot + write much that I would like to tell you. Your friend, + + "Mary Montjoy." + + "P. S. Amos Royson is your enemy and he is a dangerous man." + +When Edward received this, as he did next day by the hand of Col. +Montjoy, he was thrilled with pleasure and then depressed with a sudden +memory. That day he was so reckless that even Norton felt compelled, +using his expression, "to call him down." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE OLD SOUTH DRAWS THE SWORD. + + +When Royson reached his office he quietly locked himself in, and, +lighting a cigar, threw himself into his easy-chair. He recalled with +carefulness the minutest facts of his interview with Annie Montjoy, from +the moment he seated himself beside her, until his departure. Having +established these in mind he began the course of reasoning he always +pursued in making an estimate of testimony. The basis of his cousin's +action did not call for much attention; he knew her well. She was as +ambitious as Lucifer and possessed that peculiar defect which would +explain so many women if given proper recognition--lack of ability to +concede equal merit to others. They can admit no uninvited one to their +plane; not even an adviser. They demand flattery as a plant demands +nitrogen, and cannot survive the loss of attention. + +And, reading deeper, Royson saw that the steadfast, womanly soul of the +sister-in-law had, even in the knowledge of his cousin, over-shadowed +hers until she resented even the old colonel's punctilious courtesy; +that in her heart she raged at his lack of informality and accused him +of resting upon the young girl. If she had been made much of, set up as +a divinity, appealed to and suffered to rule, all would have been fair +and beautiful. And then the lawyer smiled and said aloud to that other +self, with whom he communed: "For a while." Such was the woman. + +Long he sat, studying the situation. Once he arose and paced the floor, +beating his fist into his hand and grinding his teeth. + +"Both or none!" he cried, at last. "If Montjoy is nominated I am +shelved; and as for Mary, there have been Sabine women in all ages." + +That night the leaders of the opposition met in secret caucus, called +together by Royson. When, curious and attentive, they assembled in his +private office, he addressed them: + +"I have, gentlemen, to-day found myself in a very embarrassing position; +a very painful one. You all know my devotion to our friend; I need not +say, therefore, that here to-night the one overpowering cause of the +action which I am about to take is my loyalty to him. To-day, from a +source I am not at liberty to state here, I was placed in possession of +a fact which, if used, practically ends this campaign. You must none of +you express a doubt, nor must any one question me upon the subject. The +only question to be discussed is, shall we make use of the fact--and +how?" He waited a moment until the faces of the committee betrayed their +deep interest. + +"Whom do you consider in this city the most powerful single man behind +the movement to nominate Montjoy?" + +"Morgan," said one, promptly. It was their unanimous judgment. + +"Correct! This man, with his money and zeal, has made our chances +uncertain if not desperate, and this man," he continued, excitedly, "who +is posing before the public and offering odds of three to one against us +with old Morgan's money, is not a white man!" + +He had leaned over the table and concluded his remarks in almost a +whisper. A painful silence followed, during which the excited lawyer +glared inquiringly into the faces turned in horror upon him. "Do you +understand?" he shouted at last. They understood. + +A southern man readily takes a hint upon such a matter. These men sat +silent, weighing in their minds the final effect of this announcement. +Royson did not give them long to consider. + +"I am certain of this, so certain that if you think best I will publish +the fact to-morrow and assume the whole responsibility." There was but +little doubt remaining then. But the committee seemed weighed upon +rather than stirred by the revelation; they spoke in low tones to each +other. There was no note of triumph in any voice. They were men. + +Presently the matter took definite shape. An old man arose and addressed +his associates: + +"I need not say, gentlemen, that I am astonished by this information, +and you will pardon me if I do say I regret that it seems true. As far +as I am concerned I am opposed to its use. It is a very difficult matter +to prove. Mr. Royson's informant may be mistaken, and if proof was not +forthcoming a reaction would ruin our friend." No one replied, although +several nodded their heads. At length Royson spoke: + +"The best way to reach the heart of this matter is to follow out in your +minds a line of action. Suppose in a speech I should make the +charge--what would be the result?" + +"You would be at once challenged!" Royson smiled. + +"Who would bear the challenge?" + +"One of the Montjoys would be morally compelled to." + +"Suppose I convince the bearer that a member of his family was my +authority?" Then they began to get a glimpse of the depth of the plot. +One answered: + +"He would be obliged to withdraw!" + +"Exactly! And who else after that would take Montjoy's place? Or how +could Montjoy permit the duel to go on? And if he did find a fool to +bring his challenge, I could not, for the reason given in the charge, +meet his principal!" + +"A court of honor might compel you to prove your charge, and then you +would be in a hole. That is, unless you could furnish proof." + +"And still," said Royson, "there would be no duel, because there would +be no second. And you understand, gentlemen," he continued, smiling, +"that all this would not postpone the campaign. Before the court of +honor could settle the matter the election would have been held. You can +imagine how that election would go when it is known that Montjoy's +campaign manager and right-hand man is not white. This man is +hail-fellow-well-met with young Montjoy; a visitor in his home and is +spending money like water. What do you suppose the country will say when +these facts are handled on the stump? Col. Montjoy is ignorant of it, we +know, but he will be on the defensive from the day the revelation is +made. + +"I have said my action is compelled by my loyalty to Swearingen, and I +reiterate it, but we owe something to the community, to the white race, +to good morals and posterity. And if I am mistaken in my proofs, +gentlemen, why, then, I can withdraw my charge. It will not affect the +campaign already over. But I will not have to withdraw." + +"As far as I am concerned," said another gentleman, rising and speaking +emphatically, "this is a matter upon which, under the circumstances, I +do not feel called to vote! I cannot act without full information! The +fact is, I am not fond of such politics! If Mr. Royson has proofs that +he cannot use publicly or here, the best plan would be to submit them to +Col. Montjoy and let him withdraw, or pull off his lieutenant." He +passed out and several with him. Royson argued with the others, but one +by one they left him. He was bursting with rage. + +"I will determine for myself!" he said, "the victory shall rest in me!" + +Then came the speech of the campaign at the court house. The relations +of Col. Montjoy, his family friends, people connected with him in the +remotest degree by marriage, army friends, members of the bar, +merchants, warehousemen and farmers generally, and a large sprinkling of +personal and political enemies of Swearingen made up the vast crowd. + +In the rear of the hall, a smile upon his face, was Amos Royson. And yet +the secret glee in his heart, the knowledge that he, one man in all that +throng, by a single sentence could check the splendid demonstration and +sweep the field, was clouded. It came to him that no other member of the +Montjoy clan was a traitor. Nowhere is the family tie so strong as in +the south, and only the power of his ambition could have held him aloof. +Swearingen had several times represented the district in Congress; it +was his turn when the leader moved on. This had been understood for +years by the political public. In the meantime he had been state's +attorney and there were a senatorship, a judgeship and possibly the +governorship to be grasped. He could not be expected to sacrifice his +career upon the altar of kinship remote. Indeed, was it not the duty of +Montjoy to stand aside for the sake of a younger man? Was it not true +that a large force in his nomination had been the belief that +Swearingen's right-hand man would probably be silenced thereby? It had +been a conspiracy. + +These thoughts ran through his mind as he stood watching the gathering. + +On the stage sat Edward Morgan, a prominent figure and one largely +scanned by the public; and Royson saw his face light up and turn to a +private box; saw his smile and bow. A hundred eyes were turned with his, +and discovered there, half concealed by the curtains, the face of Mary +Montjoy. The public jumped to the conclusion that had previously been +forced on him. + +Over Royson's face surged a wave of blood; a muttered oath drew +attention to him and he changed his position. He saw the advancing +figure of Gen. Evan and heard his introductory speech. The morning paper +said it was the most eloquent ever delivered on such an occasion; and +all that the speaker said was: + +"Fellow-citizens, I have the honor to introduce to you this evening Col. +Norton Montjoy. Hear him." + +His rich bass voice rolled over the great audience; he extended his arm +toward the orator of the evening, and retired amid thunders of applause. +Then came Col. Montjoy. + +The old south was famous for its oratory. It was based upon personal +independence, upon family pride and upon intellect unhampered by +personal toil in uncongenial occupations; and lastly upon sentiment. +Climate may have entered into it; race and inheritance undoubtedly did. +The southern orator was the feature of congressional displays, and back +in congressional archives lie orations that vie with the best of Athens +and of Rome. But the flavor, the spectacular effects, linger only in the +memory of the rapidly lessening number who mingled deeply in ante-bellum +politics. No pen could have faithfully preserved this environment. + +So with the oration that night in the opening of the Montjoy campaign. +It was not transmissible. Only the peroration need be reproduced here: + +"God forbid!" he said in a voice now husky with emotion and its long +strain, "God forbid that the day shall come when the south will +apologize for her dead heroes! Stand by your homes; stand by your +traditions; keep our faith in the past as bright as your hopes for the +future! No stain rests upon the honor of your fathers! Transmit their +memories and their virtues to posterity as its best inheritance! Defend +your homes and firesides, remembering always that the home, the family +circle, is the fountain head of good government! Let none enter there +who are unclean. Keep it the cradle of liberty and the hope of the +English race on this continent, the shrine of religion, of beauty, of +purity!" + +He closed amid a tumult of enthusiasm. Men stood on chairs to cheer; +ladies wept and waved their handkerchiefs, and then over all arose the +strange melody that no southern man can sit quiet under. "Dixie" rang +out amid a frenzy of emotion. Veterans hugged each other. The old +general came forward and clasped hands with his comrade, the band +changing to "Auld Lang Syne." People crowded on the stage and outside +the building the drifting crowd filled the air with shouts. + +The last man to rise from his seat was Edward Morgan. Lost in thought, +his face lowered, he sat until some one touched him on the shoulder and +called him back to the present. And out in the audience, clinging to a +post, to resist the stream of humanity, passing from the aisles, his +eyes strained forward, heedless of the banter and jeers poured upon him, +Royson watched as best he could every shade upon the stranger's face. A +cry burst from his lips. "It was true!" he said, and dashed from the +hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +"IN ALL THE WORLD, NO FAIRER FLOWER THAN THIS!" + + +The city was in a whirl on election day; hacks and carriages darted here +and there all day long, bearing flaming placards and hauling voters to +the polls. Bands played at the Montjoy headquarters and everything to +comfort the inner patriot was on hand. + +Edward had taken charge of this department and at his own expense +conducted it. He was the host. All kinds of wines and liquors and malt +drinks, a constantly replenished lunch, that amounted to a banquet, and +cigars, were at all hours quickly served by a corps of trained waiters. +In all their experience, old election stagers declared never had this +feature of election day been so complete. It goes without saying that +Montjoy's headquarters were crowded and that a great deal of the +interest which found expression in the streets was manufactured there. + +It was a fierce struggle; the Swearingen campaign in the county had been +conducted on the "still-hunt" plan, and on this day his full strength +was polled. It was Montjoy's home county, and if it could be carried +against him, the victory was won at the outset. + +On the other hand, the Montjoy people sought for the moral effect of an +overwhelming victory. There was an expression of general relief in the +form of cheers, when the town clocks struck five and the polls windows +fell. Anxiety followed, and then bonfires blazed, rockets exploded and +all night long the artillery squad fired salutes. Montjoy had won by an +unlooked-for majority and the vote of the largest county was secure. + +Edward had resolutely refused to think upon the discovery unfolded to +him. With reckless disregard for the future he had determined to bury +the subject until the arrival of Virdow. But there are ghosts that will +not come down at the bidding, and so in the intervals of sleep, of +excitement, of politics, the remembrance of the fearful fate that +threatened him came up with all the force and terror of a new +experience. + +Ilexhurst was impossible to him alone and he held to Norton as long as +he could. There was to be a few days' rest after the home election, and +the younger Montjoy seized this opportunity to run home and, as he +expressed it, "get acquainted with the family." Edward, without +hesitation, accepted his invitation to go with him. They had become firm +friends now and Edward stood high in the family esteem. Reviewing the +work that had led up to Col. Montjoy's magnificent opening and oration, +all generously conceded that he had been the potent factor. + +It was not true, in fact; the younger Montjoy had been the genius of the +hour, but Edward's aid and money had been necessary. The two men were +received as conquering heroes. As she held his hand in hers old Mrs. +Montjoy said: + +"You have done us a great service, Mr. Morgan, and we cannot forget it," +and Mary, shy and happy, had smiled upon him and uttered her thanks. +There was one discordant note, the daughter-in-law had been silent until +all were through. + +"And I suppose I am to thank you, Mr. Morgan, that Norton has returned +alive. I did not know you were such high livers over at Ilexhurst," she +smiled, maliciously. "Were you not afraid of ghosts?" + +Edward looked at her with ill-disguised hatred. For the first time he +realized fully that he was dealing with a dangerous enemy. How much did +she know? He could make nothing of that serenely tranquil face. He bowed +only. She was his friend's wife. + +But he was not at ease beneath her gaze and readily accepted Mary's +invitation to ride. She was going to carry a note from her father to a +neighbor, and the chance of seeing the country was one he should not +neglect. They found a lazy mule and ancient country buggy at the door. +He thought of the outfit of the sister-in-law. "Annie has a pony phaeton +that is quite stylish," said Mary, laughingly, as they entered the old +vehicle, "but it is only for town use; this is mine and papa's!" + +"Certainly roomy and safe," he said. She laughed outright. + +"I will remember that; so many people have tried to say something +comforting about my turnout and failed; but it does well enough." They +were off then, Edward driving awkwardly. It was the first time he had +ever drawn the reins over a mule. + +"How do you make it go fast?" he asked, finally, in despair. + +"Oh, dear," she answered, "we don't try. We know the mule." Her laugh +was infectious. + +They traveled the public roads, with their borders of wild grape, +crossed gurgling streams under festoons of vines and lingered in shady +vistas of overhanging boughs. Several times they boldly entered private +grounds and passed through back yards without hailing, and at last they +came to their destination. + +There were two huge stone posts at the entrance, with carved balls of +granite upon them. A thick tangle of muscadine and Cherokee roses led +off from them right and left, hiding the trail of the long-vanished rail +fence. In front was an avenue of twisted cedars, and, closing the +perspective, a glimpse of white columns and green blinds. + +The girl's face was lighted with smiles; it was for her a new +experience, this journeying with a man alone; his voice melodious in her +hearing; his eyes exchanging with hers quick understandings, for Edward +was happy that morning--happy in his forgetfulness. He had thrown off +the weight of misery successfully, and for the first time in his life +there was really a smile in his heart. It was the dream of an hour; he +would not mar it. Her voice recalled him. + +"I have always loved 'The Cedars.' It wears such an air of gentility and +refinement. It must be that something of the lives gone by clings to +these old places." + +"Whose is it?" She turned in surprise. + +"Oh, this is where we were bound--Gen. Evan's. I have a note for him." + +"Ah!" The exclamation was one of awe rather than wonder. She saw him +start violently and grow pale. "Evan?" he said, with emotion. + +"You know him?" + +"Not I." He felt her questioning gaze and looked into her face. "That +is, I have been introduced to him, only, and I have heard him speak." +After a moment's reflection: "Sometime, perhaps, I shall tell you why +for the moment I was startled." She could not understand his manner. +Fortunately they had arrived at the house. Confused still, he followed +her up the broad steps to the veranda and saw her lift the antique +knocker. + +"Yes, ma'am, de general's home; walk in, ma'am; find him right back in +the liberry." With that delightful lack of formality common among +intimate neighbors in the south, Mary led the way in. She made a pretty +picture as she paused at the door. The sun was shining through the +painted window and suffused her form with roseate light. + +"May I come in?" + +"Well! Well! Well!" The old man rose with a great show of welcome and +came forward. "'May I come in?' How d'ye do, Mary, God bless you, child; +yes, come clear in," he said, laughing, and bestowed a kiss upon her +lips. At that moment he caught sight of the face of Edward, who stood +behind her, pale from the stream of light that came from a white crest +in the window. The two men gazed steadily into each other's eyes a +moment only. The girl began: + +"This is Mr. Morgan, general, who has been such a friend to father." + +The rugged face of the old soldier lighted up, he took the young man's +hands in both of his and pressed them warmly. + +"I have already met Mr. Morgan. The friend of my friend is welcome to +'The Cedars'." He turned to move chairs for them. + +The face of the young man grew white as he bowed gravely. There had been +a recognition, but no voice spoke from the far-away past through his +lineaments to that lonely old man. During the visit he was distrait and +embarrassed. The courtly attention of his host and his playful gallantry +with Mary awoke no smile upon his lips. Somewhere a barrier had fallen +and the waters of memory had rushed in. Finally he was forced to arouse +himself. + +"John Morgan was a warm friend of mine at one time," said the old +general. "How was he related to you?" + +"Distantly," said Edward quietly. "I was an orphan, and indebted to him +for everything." + +"An eccentric man, but John had a good heart--errors like the rest of +us, of course." The general's face grew sad for the moment, but he +rallied and turned the conversation to the political campaign. + +"A grand speech that, Mr. Morgan; I have never heard a finer, and I have +great speakers in my day! Our district will be well and honorably +represented in Congress. Now, our little friend here will go to +Washington and get her name into the papers." + +"No, indeed. If papa wins I am going to stay with mamma. I am going to +be her eyes as well as her hands. Mamma would not like the city." + +"And how is the little mamma?" + +She shook her head. "Not so well and her eyes trouble her very much." + +"What a sweet woman she is! I can never forget the night Norton led her +to the altar. I have never seen a fairer sight--until now," he +interpolated, smiling and saluting Mary with formal bow. "She had a +perfect figure and her walk was the exposition of grace." Mary surveyed +him with swimming eyes. She went up and kissed him lightly. He detained +her a moment when about to take her departure. + +"You are a fortunate man, Morgan. In all the world you will find no +rarer flower than this. I envy you your ride home. Come again, Mary, and +bring Mr. Morgan with you." She broke loose from him and darted off in +confusion. He had guessed her secret and well was it that he had! + +The ride home was as a dream. The girl was excited and full of life and +banter and Edward, throwing off his sadness, had entered into the hour +of happiness with the same abandon that marked his campaign with Norton. + +But as they entered the long stretch of wood through which their road +ran to her home, Edward brought back the conversation to the general. + +"Yes," said Mary, "he lives quite alone, a widower, but beloved by every +one. It is an old, sad story, but his daughter eloped just before the +war broke out and went abroad. He has never heard from her, it is +supposed." + +"I have heard the fact mentioned," said Morgan, "and also that she was +to have married my relative." + +"I did not know that," she said, "but it is a great sorrow to the +general, and a girl who could give up such a man must have been wrong at +heart or infatuated." + +"Infatuated, let us hope." + +"That is the best explanation," she said gently. + +He was driving; in a few moments he would arrive at the house. Should he +tell her the history of Gerald and let her clear, honest mind guide him? +Should he tell her that Fate had made him the custodian of the only +being in the world who had a right to that honorable name when the +veteran back yonder found his last camp and crossed the river to rest in +the shade with the immortal Jackson? He turned to her and she met his +earnest gaze with a winning smile, but at the moment something in his +life cried out. The secret was as much his duty as the ward himself and +to confess to her his belief that Gerald was the son of Marion Evan was +to confess to himself that he was the son of the octoroon. He would not. +Her smile died away before the misery in his face. + +"You are ill," she said in quick sympathy. + +"Yes," he replied, faintly; "yes and no. The loss of +sleep--excitement--your southern sun----" The world grew black and he +felt himself falling. In the last moment of his consciousness he +remembered that her arm was thrown about him and that in response to her +call for help negroes from the cotton fields came running. + +He opened his eyes. They rested upon the chintz curtains of the room +upstairs, from the window of which he had heard her voice calling the +chickens. Some one was bathing his forehead; there were figures gliding +here and there across his vision. He turned his eyes and saw the anxious +face of Mrs. Montjoy watching him. + +"What is it?" He spoke in wonder. + +"Hush, now, my boy; you have been very ill; you must not talk!" He tried +to lift his hand. It seemed made of lead and not connected with him in +any way. Gazing helplessly upon it, he saw that it was thin and +white--the hand of an invalid. + +"How long?" he asked, after a rest. The slight effort took his strength. + +"Three weeks." Three weeks! This was more than he could adjust in the +few working sections of his brain. He ceased to try and closed his eyes +in sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +BEYOND THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT. + + +It had been brain fever. For ten days Edward was helpless, but under the +care of the two loving women he rapidly recovered. The time came when he +could sit in the cool of the evening upon the veranda and listen to the +voices he had learned to love--for he no longer disguised the truth from +himself. The world held for him but one dream, through it and in the +spell of his first home life the mother became a being to be reverenced. +She was the fulfilled promise of the girl, all the tender experiences of +life were pictured in advance for him who should win her hand and heart. + +But it was only a dream. During the long hours of the night as he lay +wakeful, with no escape from himself, he thought out the situation and +made up his mind to action. He would go to Col. Montjoy and confess the +ignorance of his origin that overwhelmed him and then he would provide +for his ward and go away with Virdow to the old world and the old life. + +The mental conclusion of his plan was a species of settlement. It helped +him. Time and again he cried out, when the remembrance came back to him, +but it was the honorable course and he would follow it. He would go +away. + +The hours of his convalescence were the respite he allowed himself. Day +by day he said: "I will go to-morrow." In the morning it was still +"to-morrow." And when he finally made his announcement he was promptly +overruled. Col. Montjoy and Norton were away, speaking and campaigning. +All primaries had been held but two. The colonel's enemies had conceded +to him of the remaining counties the remote one. The other was a county +with a large population and cast four votes in the convention. It was +the home of Swearingen, but, as frequently happens, it was the scene of +the candidate's greatest weakness. There the struggle was to be titanic. +Both counties were needed to nominate Montjoy. + +The election took place on the day of Edward's departure for Ilexhurst. +That evening he saw a telegram announcing that the large county had +given its vote to Montjoy by a small majority. The remote county had but +one telegraph office, and that at a way station upon its border. Little +could be heard from it, but the public conceded Col. Montjoy's +nomination, since there had been no doubt as to this county. Edward +hired a horse, put a man upon it, sent the news to the two ladies and +then went to his home. + +He found awaiting him two letters of importance. One from Virdow, saying +he would sail from Havre on the 25th; that was twelve days previous. He +was therefore really due at Ilexhurst then. The other was a letter he +had written to Abingdon soon after his first arrival, and was marked +"returned to writer." He wondered at this. The address was the same he +had used for years in his correspondence. Although Abingdon was +frequently absent from England, the letters had always reached him. Why, +then, was this one not forwarded? He put it aside and ascertained that +Virdow had not arrived at the house. + +It was then 8 o'clock in the evening. By his order a telephone had been +placed in the house, and he at once rang up the several hotels. Virdow +was found to be at one of these, and he succeeded in getting that +distinguished gentleman to connect himself with the American invention +and explained to him the situation. + +"Take any hack and come at once," was the message that concluded their +conversation, and Virdow came! In the impulsive continental style, he +threw himself into Edward's arms when the latter opened the door of the +carriage. + +Slender, his thin black clothes hanging awkwardly upon him, his trousers +too short, the breadth of his round German face, the knobs on his +shining bald forehead exaggerated by the puffy gathering of the hair +over his ears, his candid little eyes shining through the round, +double-power glasses, his was a figure one had to know for a long time +in order to look upon it without smiling. + +Long the two sat with their cigars and ran over the old days together. +Then the professor told of wondrous experiments in sound, of the advance +knowledge into the regions of psychology, of the marvels of heredity. +His old great theme was still his ruling passion. "If the mind has no +memory, then much of the phenomena of life is worse than bewildering. +Prove its memory," he was wont to say, "and I will prove immortality +through that memory." + +It was the same old professor. He was up now and every muscle working as +he struggled and gesticulated, and wrote invisible hieroglyphics in the +air about him and made geometrical figures with palms and fingers. But +the professor had advanced in speculation. + +"The time will come, my young friend," he said at last, "when the mind +will give us its memories complete. We shall learn the secrets of +creation by memory. In its perfection we shall place a man yonder and by +vibration get his mind memory to work; theoretically he will first write +of his father and then his grandfather, describing their mental lives. +He will go back along the lines of his ancestry. He will get into Latin, +then Greek, then Hebrew, then Chaldean, then into cuneiform +inscriptions, then into figure representation. He will be an artist or +musician or sculptor, and possibly all if the back trail of his memory +crosses such talents. Aye," he continued, enthusiastically, "lost +nations will live again. The portraits of our ancestors will hang in +view along the corridors of all times! This will come by vibratory +force, but how?" + +Edward leaned forward, breathless almost with emotion. + +"You say the time is come; what has been done?" + +"Little and much! The experiments----" + +"Tell me, in all your experiments, have you known where a child, +separated from a parent since infancy, without aid of description, or +photograph, or information derived from a living person, could see in +memory or imagination the face of that parent, see it with such +distinctness as to enable him, an artist, to reproduce it in all +perfection?" + +The professor wiped his glasses nervously and kept his gaze upon his +questioner. + +"Never." + +"Then," said Edward, "you have crossed the ocean to some purpose! I have +known such an instance here in this house. The person is still here! You +know me, my friend, and you do not know me. To you I was a rich young +American, with a turn for science and speculation. You made me your +friend and God bless you for it, but you did not know all of that +mystery which hangs over my life never to be revealed perhaps until the +millennium of science you have outlined dawns upon us. The man who +educated me, who enriched me, was not my parent or relative; he was my +guardian. He has made me the guardian of a frail, sickly lad whose +mystery is, or was, as complete as mine. Teach us to remember." The +words burst from him. They held the pent-up flood that had almost +wrecked his brain. + +Rapidly he recounted the situation, leaving out the woman's story as to +himself. Not to his Savior would he confess that. + +And then he told how, following his preceptor's hints about vibration, +he had accidentally thrown Gerald into a trance; its results, the second +experiment, the drawing and the woman's story of Gerald's birth. + +During this recital the professor never moved his eyes from the +speaker's face. + +"You wish to know what I think of it? This: I have but recently ventured +the proposition publicly that all ideal faces on the artist's canvas are +mind memories. Prove to me anew your results and if I establish the +reasonableness of my theory I shall have accomplished enough to die on." + +"In your opinion, then, this picture that Gerald drew is a mind memory?" + +"Undoubtedly. But you will perceive that the more distant, the older the +experience, we may say, the less likelihood of accuracy." + +"It would depend, then, you think, upon the clearness of the original +impression?" + +"That is true! The vividness of an old impression may also outshine a +new one." + +"And if this young man recalls the face of a woman, who we believe it +possible--nay, probable--is his mother, and then the face of one we know +to be her father, as a reasonable man, would you consider the story of +this negro woman substantiated beyond the shadow of a doubt?" + +"Beyond the shadow of a doubt." + +"We shall try," said Edward, and then, after a moment's silence: "He is +shy of strangers and you may find it difficult to get acquainted with +him. After you have succeeded in gaining his confidence we shall settle +upon a way to proceed. One word more, he is a victim of morphia. Did I +tell you that?" + +"No, but I guessed it." + +"You have known such men before, then?" + +"I have studied the proposition that opium may be a power to effect what +we seek, and, in connection with it, have studied the hospitals that +make a specialty of such cases." + +There was a long silence, and presently Edward said: + +"Will you say good-night now?" + +"Good-night." The professor gazed about him. "How was it you used to say +good-night, Edward? Old customs are good. It is not possible that the +violin has been lost." He smiled and Edward got his instrument and +played. He knew the old man's favorites; the little folk-melodies of the +Rhine country, bits of love songs, mostly, around which the loving +players of Germany have woven so many beautiful fancies. And in the +playing Edward himself was quieted. + +The light from the hall downstairs streamed out along the gravel walk, +and in the glare was a man standing with arms folded and head bent +forward. A tall woman came and gently laid her hand upon him. He started +violently, tossed his arms aloft and rushed into the darkness. She +waited in silence a moment and then slowly followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +"IF I MEET THE MAN!" + + +When Edward opened the morning paper, which he did while waiting for the +return of the professor, who had wandered away before breakfast, he was +shocked by the announcement of Montjoy's defeat. The result of the vote +in the remote county had been secured by horseback service organized by +an enterprising journal, and telegraphed. The official returns were +given. + +Already the campaign had drifted far into the past with him; years +seemed to have gone by when he arose from the sick-bed and now it +scarcely seemed possible that he, Edward Morgan, was the same man who +labored among the voters, shouted himself hoarse and kept the +headquarters so successfully. It must have been a dream. + +But Mary! That part was real. He wrote her a few lines expressing his +grief. + +And then came the professor, with his adventure! He had met a young man +out making photographs and had interested him with descriptions of +recent successful attempts to photograph in colors. And then they had +gone to the wing-room and examined the results of the young man's +efforts to produce pictures upon living substances. "He has some of the +most original theories and ideas upon the subject I have heard," said +the German. "Not wild beyond the possibilities of invention, however, +and I am not sure but that he has taught me a lesson in common sense. +'Find how nature photographs upon living tissue,' said the young man, +'and when you have reduced your pictures to the invisible learn to +re-enlarge them; perhaps you will learn to enlarge nature's invisibles.' + +"He has discovered that the convolutions of the human brain resemble an +embryo infant and that the new map which indicates the nerve lines +centering in the brain from different parts of the body shows them +entering the corresponding parts of the embryo. He lingers upon the +startling idea that the nerve is a formative organ, and that by +sensations conveyed, and by impressions, it actually shapes the brain. +When sensations are identical and persistent they establish a family +form. The brain is a bas-relief composite picture, shaped by all the +nerves. Theoretically a man's brain carefully removed, photographed and +enlarged ought to show the outlines of a family form, with all the +modifications. + +"You will perceive that he is working along hereditary lines and not +psychologic. And I am not sure but that in this he is pursuing the +wisest course, heredity being the primer." + +"You believe he has made a new discovery, then?" + +"As to that, no. The speculative mind is tolerant. It accepts nothing +that is not proven; it rejects nothing that has not been disproved. The +original ideas in most discoveries in their crude forms were not less +wild than this. All men who observe are friends of science." + +The incident pleased Edward. To bring the professor and Gerald together +he had feared would be difficult. Chance and the professor's tact had +already accomplished this successfully. + +"I shall leave you and Gerald to get thoroughly acquainted. When you +have learned him you can study him best. I have business of importance." + +He at once went to the city and posted his letter. Norton's leave had +been exhausted and he had already departed for New York. + +At the club and at the almost forsaken headquarters of the Montjoy party +all was consternation and regret. The fatal overconfidence in the +backwoods county was settled upon as the cause of the disaster. And yet +why should that county have failed them? Two companies of Evan's old +brigade were recruited there; he had been assured by almost every +prominent man in the county of its vote. And then came the crushing +blow. + +The morning paper had wired for special reports and full particulars, +and at 12 o'clock an extra was being cried upon the streets. Everybody +bought the paper; the street cars, the hotels, the clubs, the street +corners, were thronged with people eagerly reading the announcement. +Under triple head lines, which contained the words "Fraud" and "Slander" +and "Treachery," came this article, which Edward read on the street: + + "The cause of the fatal slump-off of Col. Montjoy's friends in + this county was a letter placed in circulation here yesterday + and industriously spread to the remotest voting places. It was + a letter from Mr. Amos Royson to the Hon. Thomas Brown of this + county. Your correspondent has secured and herewith sends a + copy: + + "'My Dear Sir: In view of the election about to be held in your + county, I beg to submit the following facts: Against the honor + and integrity of Col. Montjoy nothing can be urged, but it is + known here so positively that I do not hesitate to state, and + authorize you to use it, that the whole Montjoy movement is in + reality based upon an effort to crush Swearingen for his + opposition to certain corporation measures in congress, and + which by reason of his position on certain committees, he + threatens with defeat! To this end money has been sent here and + is being lavishly expended by a tool of the corporation. Added + to this fact that the man chosen for the business is one + calling himself Edward Morgan, the natural son of a late + eccentric bachelor lawyer of this city. The mother of this man + is an octoroon, who now resides with him at his home in the + suburbs. It is certain that these facts are not known to the + people who have him in tow, but they are easy of substantiation + when necessary. We look to you and your county to save the + district. We were "done up" here before we were armed with this + information. Respectfully yours, + + 'Amos Royson.' + +"Thousands of these circulars were printed and yesterday put in the +hands of every voter. Col. Montjoy's friends were taken by surprise and +their enthusiasm chilled. Many failed to vote and the county was lost by +twenty-three majority. Intense excitement prevails here among the +survivors of Evan's brigade, who feel themselves compromised." + +Then followed an editorial denouncing the outrage and demanding proofs. +It ended by stating that the limited time prevented the presentation of +interviews with Royson and Morgan, neither of whom could be reached by +telephone after the news was received. + +There are moments when the very excess of danger calms. Half the letter, +the political lie alone, would have enraged Edward beyond expression. He +could not realize nor give expression. The attack upon his blood was too +fierce an assault. In fact, he was stunned. He looked up to find himself +in front of the office of Ellison Eldridge. Turning abruptly he ascended +the steps; the lawyer was reading the article as he appeared, but would +have laid aside the paper. + +"Finish," said Edward, curtly; "it is upon that publication I have come +to advise with you." He stood at the window while the other read, and +there as he waited a realization of the enormity of the blow, its +cowardliness, its cruelty, grew upon him slowly. He had never +contemplated publicity; he had looked forward to a life abroad, with +this wearing mystery forever gnawing at his heart, but publication and +the details and the apparent truth! It was horrible! And to disprove +it--how? The minutes passed! Would the man behind him never finish what +he himself had devoured in three minutes? He looked back; Eldridge was +gazing over the paper into space, his face wearing an expression of +profound melancholy. He had uttered no word of denunciation; he was +evidently not even surprised. + +"My God," exclaimed Edward, excitedly; "you believe it--you believe it!" +Seizing the paper, he dashed from the room, threw himself into a hack +and gave the order for home. + +And half an hour after he was gone the lawyer sat as he left him, +thinking. + +Edward found a reporter awaiting him. + +"You have the extra, I see, Mr. Morgan," said he; "may I ask what you +will reply to it?" + +"Nothing!" thundered the desperate man. + +"Will you not say it is false?" + +Edward went up to him. "Young man, there are moments when it is +dangerous to question people. This is one of them!" He opened the door +and stood waiting. Something in his face induced the newspaper man to +take his leave. He said as he departed: "If you write a card we shall be +glad to publish it." The sound of the closing door was the answer he +received. + +Alone and locked in his room, Edward read the devilish letter over and +over, until every word of it was seared into his brain forever. It could +not be denied that more than once in his life the possibility of his +being the son of John Morgan had suggested itself to his mind, but he +had invariably dismissed it. Now it came back to him with the force +almost of conviction. Had the truth been stated at last? It was the only +explanation that fitted the full circumstances of his life--and it +fitted them all. It was true and known to be true by at least one other. +Eldridge's legal mind, prejudiced in his favor by years of association +with his benefactor, had been at once convinced; and if the statement +made so positively carried conviction to Eldridge himself, to his legal +friend, how would the great sensational public receive it? + +It was done, and the result was to be absolute and eternal ruin for +Edward Morgan. Such was the conclusion forced upon him. + +Then there arose in mind the face of the one girl he remembered. He +thought of the effect of the blow upon her. He had been her guest, her +associate. The family had received him with open arms. They must share +the odium of his disgrace, and for him now what course was left? Flight! +To turn his back upon all the trouble and go to his old life, and let +the matter die out! + +And then came another thought. Could any one prove the charge? + +He was in the dark; the cards were held with their backs to him. Suppose +he should bring suit for libel, what could he offer? His witness had +already spoken and her words substantiated the charge against him. Not a +witness, not a scrap of paper, was to be had in his defense. A libel +suit would be the rivet in his irons and he would face the public, +perhaps for days, and be openly the subject of discussion. It was +impossible, but he could fight. + +The thought thrilled him to the heart. She should see that he was a man! +He would not deal with slander suits, with newspapers; he would make the +scoundrel eat his words or he would silence his mouth forever. The man +soul was stirred; he no longer felt the humiliation that had rendered +him incapable of thought. The truth of the story was not the issue; the +injury was its use, false or true. He strode into Gerald's room and +broke into the experiments of the scientists, already close friends. + +"You have weapons here. Lend me one; the American uses the revolver, I +believe?" + +Gerald looked at him in astonishment, but he was interested. + +"Here is one; can you shoot?" + +"Badly; the small sword is my weapon." + +"Then let me teach you." Gerald was a boy now; weapons had been his +hobby years before. + +"Wait, let me fix a target!" He brushed a chalk drawing from a +blackboard at the end of the room and stood, crayon in hand. "What would +you prefer to shoot at, a tree, a figure----" + +"A figure!" + +Gerald rapidly sketched the outlines of a man with white shirt front and +stepped aside. Five times the man with the weapon sighted and fired. The +figure was not touched. Gerald was delighted. He ran up, took the pistol +and reloaded it and fired twice in succession. Two spots appeared upon +the shirt front; they were just where the lower and center shirt studs +would have been. + +"You are an artist, I believe," he said to Edward. + +The latter bowed his head. "Now, professor, I will show you one of the +most curious experiments in physics, the one that explains the chance +stroke of billiards done upon the spur of the moment; the one rifle shot +of a man's life, and the accurately thrown stone. Stand here," he said +to Edward, "and follow my directions closely. Remember, you are a +draftsman and are going to outline that figure on the board. Draw it +quickly with your pistol for a pen, and just as if you were touching the +board. Say when you have finished and don't lower the pistol." Edward +drew as directed. + +"It is done," he said. + +"You have not added the upper stud. Fire!" + +An explosion followed; a spot appeared just over the heart. + +"See!" shouted Gerald; "a perfect aim; the pistol was on the stud when +he fired, but beginners always pull the muzzle to the right, and let the +barrel fly up. The secret is this, professor," he continued, taking a +pencil and beginning to draw, "the concentration of attention is so +perfect that the hand is a part of the eye. An artist who shoots will +shoot as he draws, well or badly. Now, no man drawing that figure will +measure to see where the stud should be; he would simply put the chalk +spot in the right place." + +Edward heard no more; loading the pistol he had departed. "If I meet the +man!" he said to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +HOW THE CHALLENGE WAS WRITTEN. + + +The search for Royson was unavailing. His determined pursuer tried his +office door; it was locked. He walked every business street, entered +every restaurant and billiard saloon, every hotel lobby. The politician +was not to be found. He himself attracted wide-spread attention wherever +he went. Had he met Royson he would have killed him without a word, but +as he walked he did a great deal of thinking. He had no friend in the +city. The nature of this attack was such that few people would care to +second him. The younger Montjoy was away and he was unwilling to set +foot in the colonel's house again. Through him, Edward Morgan, however +innocently it may be, had come the fatal blow. + +He ran over the list of acquaintances he had formed among the younger +men. They were not such as pleased him in this issue, for a strong, +clear head, a man of good judgment and good balance, a determined man, +was needed. + +Then there came to his memory the face of one whom he had met at supper +his first night in town--the quiet, dignified Barksdale. He sought this +man's office. Barksdale was the organizer of a great railroad in process +of construction. His reception of Edward was no more nor less than would +have been accorded under ordinary circumstances. Had he come on the day +before he would have been greeted as then. + +"How do you do, Mr. Morgan? Be seated, sir." This with a wave of his +hand. Then, "What can I do for you?" His manner affected Edward in the +best way; he began to feel the business atmosphere. + +"I have called, Mr. Barksdale, upon a personal matter and to ask your +assistance. I suppose you have read to-day's extra?" + +"I have." + +"My first inclination, after fully weighing the intent and effect of +that famous publication," said Edward, "was to seek and kill the author. +For this purpose I have searched the town. Royson is not to be found. I +am so nearly a stranger here that I am forced to come to my +acquaintances for assistance, and now I ask that you will advise me as +to my next proceeding." + +"Demand a retraction and apology at once!" + +"And if it is refused?" + +"Challenge him!" + +"If he refuses to fight?" + +"Punish him. That is all you can do." + +"Will you make the demand for me--will you act for me?" + +Barksdale reflected a moment and then said: "Do not misunderstand my +hesitation; it is not based upon the publication, nor upon unwillingness +to serve you. I am considering the complications which may involve +others; I must, in fact, consult others before I can reply. In the +meantime will you be guided by me?" + +"I will." + +"You are armed and contemplating a very unwise act. Leave your weapon +here and take a hack home and remain there until I call. It is now 3:30 +o'clock. I will be there at 8. If I do not act for you I will suggest a +friend, for this matter should not lie over-night. But under no +circumstances can I go upon the field; my position here involves +interests covering many hundreds of thousands of invested funds, which I +have induced. Dueling is clearly out of vogue in this country and +clearly illegal. For the president of a railroad to go publicly into a +duel and deliberately break the law would lessen public confidence in +the north in both him and his business character and affect the future +of his enterprise, the value of its stocks and bonds. You admit the +reasonableness of this, do you not?" + +"I do. There is my weapon! I will expect you at 8. Good evening, Mr. +Barksdale." + +The hours wore slowly away at home. Edward studied his features in the +cheval glass; he could not find in them the slightest resemblance to the +woman in the picture. He had not erred in that. The absence of any +portrait of John Morgan prevented his making a comparison there. He knew +from descriptions given by Eldridge that he was not very like him in +form or in any way that he could imagine, but family likeness is an +elusive fact. Two people will resemble each other, although they may +differ in features taken in detail. + +He went to Gerald's room, moved by a sudden impulse. Gerald was +demonstrating one of his theories concerning mind pictures and found in +the professor a smiling and tolerant listener. + +He was saying: "Now, let us suppose that from youth up a child has +looked into its mother's face, felt her touch, heard her voice; that his +senses carried to that forming brain their sensations, each nerve +touching the brain, and with minute force setting up day by day, month +by month, and year by year a model. Yes, go back further and remember +that this was going on before the child was a distinct individual; we +have the creative force in both stages! Tell me, is it impossible then +that this little brain shall grow into the likeness it carries as its +most serious impression, and that forced to the effort would on canvas +or in its posterity produce the picture it has made----" + +"How can you distinguish the mind picture from the memory picture? What +is the difference?" + +"Not easily, but if I can produce a face which comes to me in my dreams, +which haunts my waking hours, which is with me always, the face of one I +have never seen, it must come to me as a mind picture; and if that +picture is the feminine of my own, have I not reason to believe that it +stands for the creative power from which I sprang? Such a picture as +this." + +He drew a little curtain aside and on the wall shone the fair face of a +woman; the face from the church sketch, but robbed of its terror, the +counterpart of the little painting upstairs. The professor looked grave, +but Edward gazed on it in awe. + +"Now a simple brain picture," he said, almost in a whisper; "draw me the +face of John Morgan." + +The artist made not more than twenty strokes of the crayon upon the +blackboard. + +"Such is John Morgan, as I last saw him," said Gerald; "a mere +photograph; a brain picture!" + +Edward gazed from one to the other; from the picture to the artist +astounded. The professor had put on his glasses; it was he who broke the +silence. + +"That is Herr Abingdon," he said. Gerald smiled and said: + +"That is John Morgan." + +Without a word Edward left the room. Under an assumed name, deterred +from open recognition by the sad facts of the son's birth, his father +had watched over and cherished him. No wonder the letter had come back. +Abingdon was dead! + +The front door was open. He plunged directly into the arms of Barksdale +as he sought the open air. Barksdale was one of those men who seem to be +without sentiment, because they have been trained by circumstances to +look at facts from a business standpoint only. Yet the basis of his +whole life was sentiment. + +In the difficulty that had arisen his quick mind grasped at once the +situation. He knew Royson and was sure that he shielded himself behind +some collateral fact, not behind the main truth. In the first place he +was hardly in position to know anything of Morgan's history more than +the general public would have known. In the second, he would not have +dared to use it under any circumstances if those circumstances did not +protect him. What were these? First there was Morgan's isolation; only +one family could be said to be intimate with him, and they could not, on +account of the younger Montjoy, act for Edward. The single controlling +idea that thrust itself into Barksdale's mind was the proposition that +Royson did not intend to fight. + +Then the position of the Montjoy family flashed upon him. The blow had +been delivered to crush the colonel politically and upon a man who was +his unselfish ally. Owing to the nature of the attack Col. Montjoy could +ask no favors of Royson, and owing to the relationship, he could not +proceed against him in Morgan's interest. He could neither act for nor +advise, and in the absence of Col. Montjoy, who else could be found? + +Before replying to Edward, a plan of action occurred to him. When he +sent that excited individual home he went direct to Royson's office. He +found the door open and that gentleman serenely engaged in writing. Even +at this point he was not deceived; he knew that his approach had been +seen, as had Edward's, and preparations made accordingly. + +Royson had been city attorney and in reality the tool of a ring. His +ambition was boundless. Through friends he had broached a subject very +dear to him; he desired to become counsel for the large corporations +that Barksdale represented, and there was a surprised satisfaction in +his tones as he welcomed the railroad president and gave him a seat. + +Barksdale opened the conversation on this line and asked for a written +opinion upon a claim of liability in a recent accident. He went further +and stated that perhaps later Royson might be relied upon frequently in +such cases. The town was talking of nothing else at that time but the +Royson card. It was natural that Barksdale should refer to it. + +"A very stiff communication, that of yours, about Mr. Morgan," he said, +carelessly; "it will probably be fortunate for you if your informant is +not mistaken." + +"There is no mistake," said Royson, leaning back in his chair, glad that +the subject had been brought up. "It does seem a rough card to write, +but I have reason to think there was no better way out of a very ugly +complication." + +"The name of your informant will be demanded, of course." + +"Yes, but I shall not give it!" + +"Then will come a challenge." + +"Hardly!" Royson arose and closed the door. "If you have a few moments +and do not mind hearing this, I will tell you in confidence the whole +business. Who would be sought to make a demand upon me for the name of +my informant?" + +"One of the Montjoys naturally, but your relationship barring them they +would perhaps find Mr. Morgan a second." + +"But suppose that I prove conclusively that the information came from a +member of the Montjoy family? What could they do? Under the +circumstances which have arisen their hands are tied. As a matter of +fact I am the only one that can protect them. If the matter came to that +point, as a last resort I could refuse to fight, for the reason given in +the letter." + +Barksdale was silent. The whole devilish plot flashed upon him. He knew +in advance the person described as a member of the Montjoy family, and +he knew the base motives of the man who at that moment was dishonoring +him with his confidence. His blood boiled within him. Cool and calm as +he was by nature, his face showed emotion as he arose and said: + +"I think I understand." + +Royson stood by the door, his hand upon the knob, after his visitor had +gone. + +"It was a mistake; a great mistake," he said to himself in a whisper. "I +have simply acted the fool!" + +Barksdale went straight to a friend upon whose judgment he relied and +laid the matter before him. Together they selected three of the most +honorable and prominent men in the city, friends of the Montjoys, and +submitted it to them. + +The main interest was now centered in saving the Montjoy family. Edward +had become secondary. An agreement was reached upon Barksdale's +suggestion and all was now complete unless the aggrieved party should +lose his case in the correspondence about to ensue. + +Barksdale disguised his surprise when he assisted Edward at the door to +recover equilibrium. + +"I am here sir, as I promised," he said, "but the complications extend +further than I knew. I now state that I cannot act for you in any +capacity and ask that I be relieved of my promise." Edward bowed +stiffly. + +"You are released." + +"There is but one man in this city who can serve you and bring about a +meeting. Gerald Morgan must bear your note!" Edward repeated the name. +He could not grasp the idea. "Gerald Morgan," said Barksdale again. "He +will not need to go on the field. Good-night. And if that fails you here +is your pistol; you are no longer under my guidance. But one word +more--my telephone is 280; if during the night or at any time I can +advise you, purely upon formal grounds, summon me. In the meantime see +to it that your note does not demand the name of Royson's informant. Do +not neglect that. The use he has made of his information must be made +the basis of the quarrel; if you neglect this your case is lost. +Good-night." + +The thought flashed into Edward's mind then that the world was against +him. This man was fearful of becoming responsible himself. He had named +Gerald. It was a bruised and slender reed, but he would lean upon it, +even if he crushed it in the use. He returned to the wing-room. + +"Professor," he said, "you know that under no possible circumstances +would I do you a discourtesy, so when I tell you, as now, that for +to-night and possibly a day, we are obliged to leave you alone, you will +understand that some vital matter lies at the bottom of it." + +"My young friend," exclaimed that gentleman, "go as long as you please. +I have a little world of my own, you know," he smiled cheerfully, "in +which I am always amused. Gerald has enlarged it. Go and come when you +can; here are books--what more does one need?" Edward bowed slightly. + +"Gerald, follow me." Gerald, without a word, laid aside his crayon and +obeyed. He stood in the library a moment later looking with tremulous +excitement upon the man who had summoned him so abruptly. By reflection +he was beginning to share the mental disturbance. His frail figure +quivered and he could not keep erect. + +"Read that!" said Edward, handing him the paper. He took the sheet and +read. When he finished he was no longer trembling, but to the +astonishment of Edward, very calm. A look of weariness rested upon his +face. + +"Have you killed him?" he asked, laying aside the paper, his mind at +once connecting the incident of the pistol with this one. + +"No, he is in hiding." + +"Have you challenged him?" + +"No! My God, can you not understand? I am without friends! The whole +city believes the story." A strange expression came upon the face of +Gerald. + +"We must challenge him at once," he said. "I am, of course, the proper +second. I must ask you in the first place to calm yourself. The records +must be perfect." He seated himself at a desk and prepared to write. +Edward was walking the room. He came and stood by his side. + +"Do not demand the name of his informant," he said; "make the +publication and circulation of the letter the cause of our grievance." + +"Of course," was the reply. The letter was written rapidly. "Sign it if +you please," said Gerald. Edward read the letter and noticed that it was +written smoothly and without a break. He signed it. Gerald had already +rung for the buggy and disappeared. "Wait here," he had said, "until I +return. In the meantime do not converse with anyone upon this subject." +The thought that flashed upon the mind of the man left in the +drawing-room was that the race courage had become dominant, and for the +time being was superior to ill-health, mental trouble and environment. +It was in itself a confirmation of the cruel letter. The manhood of +Albert Evan had become a factor in the drama. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +BROUGHT TO BAY. + + +Col. Montjoy was apprised of the unexpected result in the backwoods at +an early hour. He read the announcement quietly and went on his usual +morning ride undisturbed. Then through the family spread the news as the +other members made their appearance. + +Mrs. Montjoy said, gently: "All happens for the best. If Mr. Montjoy had +been elected he would have been exposed for years to the Washington +climate, and he is not very well at any time. He complained of his heart +several times last night." + +But Mary went off and had a good cry. She could not endure the thought +of the slightest affront to her stately father. She felt better after +her cry and kissed the old gentleman as he came in to breakfast. + +"I see you have all heard the news," he said, cheerily. "Well, it lifts +a load from me. I spent four very trying years up in the neighborhood of +Washington, and I am not well disposed toward the locality. I have done +my duty to the fullest extent in this matter. The people who know me +have given me an overwhelming indorsement, and I have been beaten only +by people who do not know me! Swearingen will doubtless make a good +representative, after all. I am sorry for Evan," he added, laughing. "It +will be news to him to find out that the old Fire-Eaters have been +worsted at last." He went to breakfast with his arms around wife and +daughter. "All the honors of public life cannot compensate a man for +separation from his home," he said, "and Providence knows it." + +Annie was silent and anxious. She made a feeble effort to sympathize +with the defeated, but with poor success. During the morning she started +at every sound and went frequently to the front door. She knew her +cousin, and something assured her that his hand was in this mischief. +How would it affect her? In her room she laughed triumphantly. + +"Vain fools!" she exclaimed; "let them stay where they belong!" In the +afternoon there was the sound of buggy wheels, and a servant brought to +the veranda, where they were sitting, a package. Adjusting his glasses, +the colonel opened it to find one of the extras. At the head of this was +written: "Thinking it probable that it may be important for this to +reach you to-day, and fearing it might not otherwise, I send it by +messenger in buggy. Use them as you desire." To this was signed the name +of a friend. + +Annie, who watched the colonel as he read, saw his face settle into +sternness, and then an expression of anxiety overspread it. "Anything +serious, Norton?" It was the voice of his wife, who sat knitting. + +"A matter connected with the election calls me to town," he said; "I +hope it will be the last time. I shall go in with the driver who brought +the note." He went inside and made his few arrangements and departed +hurriedly. After he was gone, Annie picked up the paper from the hall +table, where he had placed it, and read the fatal announcement. Although +frightened, she could scarcely conceal her exultation. Mary was passing; +she thrust the paper before her eyes and said: "Read that! So much for +entertaining strangers!" + +Mary read. The scene whirled about her, and but for the knowledge that +her suffering was bringing satisfaction to the woman before her she +would have fallen to the floor. She saw in the gleeful eyes, gleaming +upon her, something of the truth. With a desperate effort she restrained +herself and the furious words that had rushed to her lips, and laid +aside the paper with unutterable scorn and dignity. + +"The lie is too cheap to pass anywhere except in the backwoods," was all +she said. + +A smile curled the thin lips of the other as she witnessed the desperate +struggle of the girl. The voice of Col. Montjoy, who had returned to the +gate, was heard calling to Mary: + +"Daughter, bring the paper from the hall table." + +She carried it to him. Something in her pale face caused him to ask: +"Have you read it, daughter?" + +She nodded her head. He was instantly greatly concerned and began some +rambling explanation about campaign lies and political methods. But he +could not disguise the fact that he was shocked beyond expression. She +detained him but a moment. Oh, wonderful power of womanly intuition! + +"Father," she said faintly, "be careful what you do. The whole thing +originated back yonder," nodding her head toward the house. She had said +it, and now her eyes blazed defiance. He looked upon her in amazement, +not comprehending, but the matter grew clearer as he thought upon it. + +Arriving in the city he was prepared for anything. He went direct to +Royson's office, and that gentleman seeing him enter smiled. The visit +was expected and desired. He bowed formally, however, and moving a chair +forward locked the door. Darkness had just fallen, but the electric +light outside the window was sufficient for an interview; neither seemed +to care for more light. + +"Amos," said the old man, plunging into the heart of the subject, "you +have done a shameful and a cruel thing, and I have come to tell you so +and insist upon your righting the wrong. You know me too well to suspect +that personal reasons influence me in the least. As far as I am +concerned the wrong cannot be righted, and I would not purchase nor ask +a personal favor from you. The man you have insulted so grievously is a +stranger and has acted the part of a generous friend to those who, +although you may not value the connection, are closely bound to you. In +the name of God, how could you do it?" He was too full of indignation to +proceed, and he had need of coolness. + +The other did not move nor give the slightest evidence of feeling. He +had this advantage; the part he was acting had been carefully planned +and rehearsed. After a moment's hesitation, he said: + +"You should realize, Col. Montjoy, that I have acted only after a calm +deliberation, and the matter is not one to be discussed excitedly. I +cannot refuse to talk with you about it, but it is a cold-blooded matter +of policy only." The manner and tone of the speaker chilled the elder to +the heart. Royson continued: "As for myself and you--well, it was an +open, impersonal fight. You know my ambition; it was as laudable as +yours. I have worked for years to keep in the line of succession; I +could not be expected to sit silent and while losing my whole chance see +my friend defeated. All is fair in love and war--and politics. I have +used such weapons as came to my hand, and the last I used only when +defeat was certain." + +Controlling himself with great effort, Col. Montjoy said: + +"You certainly cannot expect the matter to end here!" + +"How can it proceed?" A slight smile lighted the lawyer's face. + +"A demand will be made upon you for your authority." + +"Who will make it--you?" + +A light dawned upon the elder. The cool insolence of the man was more +than he could endure. + +"Yes!" he exclaimed, rising. "As God is my judge, if he comes to me I +shall make the demand! Ingratitude was never charged against one of my +name. This man has done me a lasting favor; he shall not suffer for need +of a friend, if I have to sacrifice every connection in the world." + +Again the lawyer smiled. + +"I think it best to remember, colonel, that we can reach no sensible +conclusion without cool consideration. Let me ask you, then, for +information. If I should answer that the charges in my letter, so far as +Morgan's parentage is concerned, were based upon statements made by a +member of your immediate family, what would be your course?" + +"I should denounce you as a liar and make the quarrel my own." + +Royson grew pale, but made no reply. He walked to his desk, and taking +from it a letter passed it to the angry man. He lighted the gas, while +the colonel's trembling hands were arranging his glasses, and stood +silent, waiting. The note was in a feminine hand. Col. Montjoy read: + + "My Dear Amos: I have been thinking over the information I gave + you touching the base parentage of the man Morgan, and I am not + sure but that it should be suppressed so far as the public is + concerned, and brought home here in another way. The facts + cannot be easily proved, and the affair would create a great + scandal, in which I, as a member of this absurd family, would + be involved. You should not use it, at any rate, except as a + desperate measure, and then only upon the understanding that + you are to become responsible, and that I am in no way whatever + to be brought into the matter. Yours in haste, + + "Annie." + +The reader let the paper fall and covered his face with his hands a +moment. Then he arose with dignity. + +"I did not imagine, sir, that the human heart was capable of such +villainy as yours has developed. You have stabbed a defenseless stranger +in the back; have broken faith with a poor, jealous, weak woman, and +have outraged and humiliated me, to whom you are personally indebted +financially and otherwise. Unlock your door! I have but one honorable +course left. I shall publish a card in the morning's paper stating that +your letter was based upon statements made by a member of my family; +that they are untrue in every respect, and offer a public apology." + +"Will you name the informant?" + +"What is that to you, sir?" + +"A great deal! If you do name her, I shall reaffirm the truth of her +statements, as in the absence of her husband I am her nearest relative. +If you do not name her, then the public may guess wrong. I think you +will not do so rash a thing, colonel. Keep out of the matter. +Circumstances give you a natural right to hands off!" + +"And if I do!" exclaimed the old man, passionately, "who will act for +him?" The unpleasant smile returned to the young man's lips. + +"No one, I apprehend!" + +Montjoy could have killed him as he stood. He felt the ground slipping +from under him as he, too, realized the completeness and cowardliness of +the plot. + +"We shall see; we shall see!" he said, gasping and pressing his hand to +his heart. "We shall see, Mr. Royson! There is a just God who looks down +upon the acts of all men, and the right prevails!" + +Royson bowed mockingly but profoundly. + +"That is an old doctrine. You are going, and there is just one thing +left unsaid. At the risk of offending you yet more, I am going to say +it." + +"I warn you, then, to be careful; there is a limit to human endurance +and I have persistently ascribed to me the worst of motives in this +matter, but I have as much pride in my family as you in yours. There are +but few of us left. Will you concede that if there is danger, in her +opinion, that she will become the sister-in-law of this man, and that +she believed the information she has given to be true, will you concede +that her action is natural, if not wise, and that a little more +selfishness may after all be mixed in mine?" Gradually his meaning +dawned upon his hearer. For a second he was dumb. And all this was to be +public property! + +"I think," said Royson, coolly opening the door, "it will be well for +you to confer with friends before you proceed, and perhaps leave to +others the task of righting the wrongs of strangers who have taken +advantage of your hospitality to offer the deadliest insult possible in +this southern country. It may not be well to arm this man with the fact +that you vouch for him; he may answer you in the future." + +He drew back from the door suddenly, half in terror. A man, pale as +death itself, with hair curling down upon his shoulders, and eyes that +blazed under the face before him, whose eyes never for a moment left +his, broke the seal. Then he read aloud: + + "Mr. Amos Royson, I inclose for your inspection a clipping from + an extra issue this day, and ask if you are the author of the + letter it contains. If you answer yes, I hereby demand of you + an unconditional retraction of and apology for the same, for + publication in the paper which contained the original. This + will be handed to you by my friend, Gerald Morgan. + + "Edward Morgan." + +Royson recovered himself with evident difficulty. + +"This is not customary--he does not demand the name of my informant!" he +said. + +"We do not care a fig, sir, for your informant. The insult rests in the +use you have made of a lie, and we propose to hold you responsible for +it!" + +Gerald spoke the words like a sweet-voiced girl and returned the stare +of his opponent with insolent coolness. The colonel had paused, as he +perceived the completeness of the lawyer's entrapping. Amos could not +use his cousin's name before the public and the Montjoys were saved from +interference. He was cornered. The colonel passed out hurriedly with an +affectionate smile to Gerald, saying: + +"Excuse me, gentlemen; these are matters which you will probably wish to +discuss in private. Mr. Royson, I had friends wiser than myself at work +upon this matter, and I did not know it." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +IN THE HANDS OF THEIR FRIENDS. + + +It was not sunset when Col. Montjoy left home. Mary went to her room and +threw herself upon her bed, sick at heart and anxious beyond the power +of weeping. Unadvised, ignorant of the full significance of the +information that had been conveyed to them, she conjured up a world of +danger for her father and for Edward. Tragedy was in the air she +breathed. At supper she was laboring under ill-concealed excitement. +Fortunately for her, the little mother was not present. Sitting in her +room, with the green glasses to which she had been reduced by the +progress of her disease, she did not notice the expression of the +daughter's face when she came as usual to look after the final +arrangement of her mother's comfort. + +By 8 o'clock the house was quiet. Throwing a light wrap over her +shoulders and concealing in its folds her father's army pistol, Mary +slipped into the outer darkness and whistled softly. A great shaggy dog +came bounding around from the rear and leaped upon her. She rested her +hand on his collar, and together they passed into the avenue. Old Isam +stood there and by him the pony phaeton and mare. + +"Stay up until I return, please, Uncle Isam, and be sure to meet me +here!" The old man bowed. + +"I'll be hyar, missy," he said. "Don't you want me to go, too?" + +"No, thank you; I am going to Gen. Evan's and you must stay and look +after things. Nero will go with me." The dog had already leaped into the +vehicle. She sprang in also, and almost noiselessly they rolled away +over the pine straw. + +The old man listened; first he heard the dogs bark at Rich's then at +Manuel's and then at black Henry's, nearly a mile away. He shook his +head. + +"Missy got somep'n on her mind! She don't make no hoss move in de night +dat way for nothin'! Too fast! Too fast!" + +He went off to his cabin and sat outside to smoke. And in the night the +little mare sped away. On the public roads the gait was comparatively +safe, and she responded to every call nobly. The unbroken shadows of the +roadside glided like walls of gloom! The little vehicle rocked and +swayed, and, underneath, the wheels sang a monotonous warning rhyme. + +Now and then the little vehicle fairly leaped from the ground, for when +Norton, a year previous, had bid in that animal at a blooded-stock sale +in Kentucky, she was in her third summer and carried the blood of Wilkes +and Rysdyk's Hambletonian, and was proud of it, as her every motion +showed. + +The little mare had the long route that night, but at last she stood +before the doorway of the Cedars. The general was descending the steps +as Mary gave Nero the lines. + +"What! Mary--" + +He feared to ask the question on his lips. She was full of excitement, +and her first effort to speak was a dismal failure. + +"Come! Come! Come!" he said, in that descending scale of voice which +seems to have been made for sympathy and encouragment. "Calm yourself +first and talk later." He had his arms around her now and was ascending +the steps. "Sit right down here in this big chair; there you are!" + +"You have not heard, then?" she said, controlling herself with supreme +effort. + +"About your father's defeat? Oh, yes. But what of that? There are +defeats more glorious than victories, my child. You will find that your +father was taken advantage of." She buried her face in her hands. + +"It is not about that, sir--the means they used!" And then, between +sobs, she told him the whole story. He made no reply, no comment, but +reaching over to the rail secured his corn-cob pipe and filled it. As he +struck a match above the tobacco, she saw that his face was as calm as +the candid skies of June. The sight gave her courage. + +"Do you not think it awful?" she ventured. + +"Awful? Yes! A man to descend to such depths of meanness must have +suffered a great deal on the way. I am sorry for Royson--sorry, indeed!" + +"But Mr. Morgan!" she exclaimed, excitedly. + +"That must be attended to," he said, very gravely. "Mr. Morgan has +placed us all under heavy obligations, and we must see him through." + +"You must, General; you must, and right away! They have sent for poor +papa, and he has gone to town, and I--I--just could not sleep, so I came +to you." He laughed heartily. + +"And in a hurry! Whew! I heard the mare's feet as she crossed the bridge +a mile away. You did just right. And of course the old general is +expected to go to town and pull papa and Mr. Morgan out of the mud, and +straighten out things. John!" + +"Put the saddle on my horse at once. And now, how is the little mamma?" +he asked, gently. + +He held her on this subject until the horse was brought, and then they +rode off down the avenue, the general following and rallying the girl +upon her driving. + +"Don't expect me to hold to that pace," he said. "I once crossed a +bridge as fast, and faster, up in Virginia, but I was trying to beat the +bluecoats. Too old now, too old." + +"But you will get there in time?" she asked, anxiously. + +"Oh, yes; they will be consulting and sending notes and raising points +all night. I will get in somewhere along the line. When a man starts out +to hunt up trouble he is rarely ever too late to find it." He saw her +safely to where Isam was waiting, and then rode on to the city. He +realized the complication, and now his whole thought was to keep his +neighbor from doing anything rash. It did occur to him that there might +be a street tragedy, but he shook his head over this when he remembered +Royson. "He is too much of a schemer for that," he said. "He will get +the matter into the hands of a board of honor." The old gentleman +laughed softly to himself and touched up his horse. + +In the meantime affairs were drawing to a focus in the city. After the +abrupt departure of Gerald, Royson stood alone, holding the demand and +thinking. An anxious expression had settled upon his face. He read and +reread the curt note, but could find no flaw in it. He was to be held +responsible for the publication; that was the injury. He was forced to +confess that the idea was sound. There was now no way to involve the +Montjoys and let them hush it up. He had expected to be forced to +withdraw the card and apologize, but not until the whole city was +informed that he did it to save a woman, and he would have been placed +then in the position of one sacrificing himself. Now that such refuge +was impossible he could not even escape by giving the name of his +informant. He could not have given it had there been a demand. + +He read between the lines that his authority was known; that he was +dealing with some master mind and that he had been out-generaled +somewhere. To whom had he talked? To no one except Barksdale. He gave +vent to a profane estimate of himself and left the office. There was no +danger now of a street assault. + +Amos Royson threw himself into a carriage and went to the residence of +Marsden Thomas, dismissing the vehicle. The family of Marsden Thomas was +an old one, and by reason of its early reputation in politics and at the +bar had a sound and honorable footing. Marsden was himself a member of +the legislature, a born politician, capable of anything that would +advance his fortune, the limit only being the dead-line of disgrace. + +He had tied to Royson, who was slightly his elder, because of his +experience and influence. + +He was noted for his scrupulous regard for the code as a basis of +settlement between honorable men, and was generally consulted upon +points of honor. + +Secure in Thomas' room, Royson went over the events of the day, +including Montjoy's and Gerald's visits, and then produced the demand +that had been served upon him. + +Thomas had heard him through without interruption. When Royson described +the entrance of Gerald, with the unlooked-for note, a slight smile drew +his lips; he put aside the note, and said: + +"You are in a very serious scrape, Amos; I do not see how you can avoid +a fight." His visitor studied him intently. + +"You must help me out! I do not propose to fight." Thomas gravely +studied the note again. + +"Of course, you know the object of the publication," continued Royson; +"it was political. Without it we would have been beaten. It was a +desperate move; I had the information and used it." + +"You had information, then? I thought the whole thing was hatched up. +Who gave you the information?" Royson frowned. + +"My cousin, Mrs. Montjoy; you see the complication now. I supposed that +no one but the Montjoys knew this man intimately, and that their hands +would be tied!" + +"Ah!" The exclamation was eloquent. "And the young man had another +friend, the morphine-eater; you had forgotten him!" Thomas could not +restrain a laugh. Royson was furious. He seized his hat and made a feint +to depart. Thomas kindly asked him to remain. It would have been cruel +had he failed, for he knew that Royson had not the slightest intention +of leaving. + +"Come back and sit down, Amos. You do us all an injustice. You played +for the credit of this victory, contrary to our advice, and now you have +the hot end of the iron." + +"Tell me," said Royson, reverting to the note, "is there anything in +that communication that we can take advantage of?" + +"Nothing! Morgan might have asked in one note if you were the author of +the published letter and then in another have demanded a retraction. His +joining the two is not material; you do not deny the authorship." + +After a few moments of silence he continued: "There is one point I am +not satisfied upon. I am not sure but that you can refuse upon the +ground you alleged--in brief, because he is not a gentleman. Whether or +not the burden of proof would be upon you is an open question; I am +inclined to think it would be; a man is not called upon in the south to +prove his title to gentility. All southerners with whom we associate are +supposed to be gentlemen," and then he added, lazily smiling, "except +the ladies; and it is a pity they are exempt. Mrs. Montjoy would +otherwise be obliged to hold her tongue!" + +Royson was white with rage, but he did not speak. Secretly he was afraid +of Thomas, and it had occurred to him that in the event of his +humiliation or death Thomas would take his place. + +This unpleasant reflection was interrupted by the voice of his +companion. + +"Suppose we call in some of our friends and settle this point." The +affair was getting in the shape desired by Royson, and he eagerly +consented. Notes were at once dispatched to several well-known +gentlemen, and a short time afterward they were assembled and in earnest +conversation. It was evident that they disagreed. + +While this consultation was going on there was a knock at the door; a +servant brought a card. Gen. Evan had called to see Mr. Thomas, but +learning that he was engaged and how, had left the note. + +Thomas read it silently, and then aloud: + + "Marsden Thomas, Esq.--Dear Sir: I have read in to-day's paper + the painful announcement signed by Mr. Royson, and have come + into the city hoping that a serious difficulty might thereby be + averted. To assist in the settlement of this matter, I hereby + state over my own signature that the announcement concerning + Edward Morgan is erroneous, and I vouch for his right to the + title and privileges of a gentleman. + + "Respectfully, + + "Albert Evan." + +The silence that followed this was broken by one of the older gentlemen +present. + +"This simplifies matters very greatly," he said. "Without the clearest +and most positive proof, Mr. Royson must retract or fight." + +They took their departure at length, leaving Royson alone to gaze upon +the open note. Thomas, returning, found him in the act of drawing on his +gloves. + +"I am going," said Royson, "to send a message to Annie. She must, she +shall give me something to go on. I will not sit quietly by and be made +a sacrifice!" + +"Write your note; I will send it." + +"I prefer to attend to it myself!" Thomas shook his head. + +"If you leave this room to-night it is with the understanding that I am +no longer your adviser. Arrest by the police must not, shall not--" + +"Do you mean to insinuate--" + +"Nothing! But I shall take no chances with the name of Thomas!" said the +other proudly. "You are excited; a word let fall--a suspicion--and we +would be disgraced! Write your note; I shall send it. We have no time to +lose!" Royson threw himself down in front of a desk and wrote hurriedly: + + "Annie: I am cornered. For God's sake give me proofs of your + statements or tell me where to get them. It is life or death; + don't fail me. + + "A. R." + +He sealed and addressed this. Thomas rang the bell and to the boy he +said: "How far is it to Col. Montjoy's?" + +"Seven miles, sah!" + +"How quickly can you go there and back?" + +"On Pet?" + +"Yes." + +"One hour an' a half, sah." + +"Take this note, say you must see Mrs. Norton Montjoy, Jr., in person, +on important matters, and deliver it to her. Here is a $5 bill; if you +are back in two hours, you need not return it. Go!" + +There was a gleam of ivory teeth and the boy hurried away. It was a +wretched wait, that hour and a half. The answer to the demand must go +into the paper that night! + +One hour and thirty-two minutes passed. They heard the horse in the +street, then the boy upon the stairway. He dashed to the door. + +"Miss Mary was up and at de gate when I got deir! Reck'n she hear Pet's +hoof hit de hard groun' an' hit skeered her. I tole her what you say, +and she sen' word dat Mrs. Montjoy done gone to sleep. I tell her you +all mighty anxious for to get dat note; dat Mr. Royson up here, waitin', +an' gentlemen been comin' an' goin' all night. She took de note in den +and putty soon she bring back the answer!" + +He was searching his pockets as he rambled over his experience, and +presently the note was found. It was the same one that had been sent by +Royson, and across the back was written: + + "Mr. Thomas: I think it best not to awaken Annie. Papa is in + town; if the matter is of great importance call upon him. I am + so certain this is the proper course that it will be useless to + write again or call in person to-night. + + "Respectfully, + + "M. M." + +He passed the note to Royson in silence and saw the look of rage upon +his face as he tore it into a thousand pieces. + +"Even your little Montjoy girl seems to be against you," he said. + +"She is!" exclaimed Royson; "she knew that my note to Annie was not in +the interest of Edward Morgan, and she is fighting for him. She will +follow him to the altar or the grave!" + +"Ah," said Thomas, aside, drawing a long breath; "'tis the old story, +and I thought I had found a new plot! Well," he continued aloud, "what +next?" + +"It shall not be the altar! Conclude the arrangements; I am at your +service!" + +"He will stick," said Thomas to himself; "love and jealousy are stronger +then fear and ambition!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +"THE WITNESS IS DEAD." + + +In his room at the hotel Col. Montjoy awaited the return of his friend +Evan, who had gone to find out how, as he expressed it the boys were +getting on with their fight. + +"I will strike the trail somewhere," he said, lightly. But he was +greatly disturbed over Col. Montjoy's concern, and noticed at once the +bad physical effect it had on him. His policy was to make light of the +matter, but he knew it was serious. + +To force Royson to back down was now his object; in the event of that +failing, to see that Morgan had a fair show. + +The colonel had removed his shoes and coat and was lying on the bed when +Evan returned. "I think I have given them a basis of settlement," said +the general. "I have vouched for the fact that the statements in +Royson's letter are erroneous. Upon my declaration he can retract and +apologize, or he must fight. I found him consulting with Thomas and +others, and I took it for granted he was looking for some way to dodge." + +The colonel looked at him in surprise. "But how could you?" + +"Upon my faith in John Morgan! He was a man of honor! He would never +have left his property to this man and put him upon the community if +there had been a cloud upon his title to gentility," and then he added, +with emotion: "A man who was willing to give his daughter to a friend +can risk a great deal to honor that friend's memory." + +"There is but one Albert Evan in the world," said Montjoy, after a long +silence. + +The general was getting himself a glass of wine. "Well, there is but one +such Montjoy, for that matter, but we two old fellows lose time sitting +up to pay each other compliments! There is much to be done. I am going +out to see Morgan; he is so new here he may need help! You stay and keep +quiet. The town is full of excitement over this affair, and people watch +me as if I were a curiosity. You can study on politics if you will; +consider the proposition that if Royson retracts we are entitled to +another trial over yonder in the lost county; that or we will threaten +them with an independent race." + +"No! I am too glad to have a chance to stay out honorably. I know now +that my candidacy was a mistake. It has weakened me here fatally." + +Col. Montjoy placed his hand over his heart wearily. The general brought +him the glass of wine he held. + +"Nonsense! Too many cigars! Here's to long life, old friend, and to the +gallant Fire-Eaters." He laughed lightly over his remembrance of the +checkmate he had accomplished, buttoned the blue coat over his broad +chest and started. "I am going now to look in upon my outpost and see +what arrangements have been made for the night. So far we hold the +strong positions. Look for me about daylight!" And, lying there alone, +his friend drifted back in thought to Mary. He was not satisfied. + +The door stood open at Ilexhurst when the general alighted. There was no +answer to his summons; he entered the lighted hall and went to the +library. Edward was sleeping quietly upon a lounge. + +"What!" exclaimed the general, cheerily, "asleep on guard!" Edward +sprang to his feet. + +"Gen. Evan!" + +"Exactly; and as no one answered my summons to surrender I took +possession." Apologizing, Edward drew a chair, and they became seated. + +"Seriously, my young friend," began the old soldier. "I was in the city +to-night and have learned from Col. Montjoy of the infamy perpetrated +upon you. My days of warfare are over, but I could not sit by and see +one to whom we all owe so much imposed upon. Let me add, also, that I +was very much charmed with you, Mr. Morgan. If there is anything I can +do for you in the way of advice and guidance in this matter kindly +command me. I might say the same thing for Montjoy, who is at the hotel, +but unfortunately, as you may not know, his daughter-in-law is Mr. +Royson's cousin, and acting upon my advice he is silent until the +necessity for action arises. I know him well enough to add that you can +rely upon his sympathy, and if needed, his aid. I have advised him to +take no action, as in the first place he is not needed, and in the +second it may bring about an estrangement between his son and himself." + +Edward was very grateful and expressed himself earnestly, but his head +was in a whirl. He was thinking of the woman's story, and of Gerald. + +"Such a piece of infamy as is embraced in that publication," said the +general, when finally the conversation went direct to the heart of the +trouble, "was never equaled in this state. Have they replied to your +note?" + +"Not yet. I am waiting for the answer!" + +"And your--cousin--is he here to receive it?" + +"Gerald? Yes, he is here--that is, excuse me, I will see!" + +Somewhat alarmed over the possibility of Gerald's absence, he hurried +through the house to the wing, and then into the glass-room. Gerald was +asleep. The inevitable little box of pellets upon his table told the sad +story. Edward could not awaken him. + +"It is unfortunate, very," he said, re-entering the library hurriedly, +"but Gerald is asleep and cannot be aroused. The truth is, he is a +victim of opium. The poor fellow is now beyond cure, I am afraid; he is +frail, nervous, excitable, and cannot live without the drug. The day has +been a very trying one for him, and this is the first time he has been +out in years!" + +"He must be awakened," said the general. "Of course he cannot, in the +event that these fellows want to fight, go on the field; and then his +relationship! But to-night! To-night he must be aroused! Let me go with +you." Edward started almost in terror. + +"It might not be well, General--it is not necessary--" + +"On the contrary, a strange voice may have more effect than yours--no +ladies about? Of course not! Lead on, I follow." Greatly confused, +Edward led the way. As they reached the wing he exclaimed the fact of +the glass-room, the whim, the fancy of an imaginative mind, and then +they entered. + +Gerald was sleeping, as was his habit, with one arm extended, the other +under his head; his long hair clustering about his face. The light was +burning brightly, and the general approached. Thrilled to the heart, +Edward steeled himself for a shock. It was well he did. The general bent +forward and laid his hand on the sleeper's shoulder. Then he stepped +quickly back, seized Edward with the strength of a giant and stood there +trembling, his eyes riveted upon the pale face on the pillow. + +"Am I dreaming?" he asked, in a changed voice. "Is this--the young +man--you spoke of?" + +"It is Gerald Morgan." + +"Strange! Strange! That likeness! The likeness of one who will never +wake again, my friend, never! Excuse me; I was startled, overwhelmed! I +would have sworn I looked upon that face as I did in the olden time, +when I used to go and stand in the moonlight and dream above it!" + +"Ah," said Edward, his heart turning to ice within him, "whose was it?" +The answer came in a whisper. + +"It was my wife's face first, and then it was the face of my daughter!" +He drew himself up proudly, and, looking long upon the sleeper, said, +gently: "They shall not waken you, poor child. Albert Evan will take +your place!" With infinite tenderness he brushed back a lock of hair +that fell across the white brow and stood watching him. + +Edward turned from the scene with a feeling that it was too sacred for +intrusion. Over the sleeping form stood the old man. A generation of +loneliness, of silence, of dignified, uncomplaining manhood lay between +them. What right had he, an alien, to be dumb when a word might bring +hope and interest back to that saddened life? Was he less noble than the +man himself--than the frail being locked in the deathlike slumber? + +He glanced once more at Gerald. How he had risen to the issue, and in +the face of every instinct of a shrinking nature had done his part until +the delicate machinery gave way! Suppose their positions were reversed; +that he lay upon the bed, and Gerald stood gazing into the night through +the dew-gemmed glass, possessed of such a secret. Would he hesitate? No! +The answer formed itself instantly--not unless he had base blood in his +veins. + +It was that taint that now held back him, Edward Morgan; he was a +coward. And yet, what would be the effect if he should burst out in that +strange place with his fearful secret? There would be an outcry; Rita +would be dragged in, her story poured forth, and on him the old man's +eyes would be turned in horror and pity. Then the published card would +stand a sentence of social degradation, and he in a foreign land would +nurse the memory of a woman and his disgrace. And Royson! He ground his +teeth. + +"I will settle that first," he said in a hoarse whisper, "and then if it +is true I will prove, God helping me, that His spirit can animate even +the child of a slave!" He bowed his head upon his breast and wept. + +Presently there came to him a consciousness that the black shadow +pressing against the glass almost at his feet was more than a shadow. It +took the form of a human being and moved; then the glass gave way and +through the shivered fragments as it fell, he saw the face of Rita sink +from view. With a loud cry he dashed at the door and sprang into the +darkness! Her tall form lay doubled in the grass. He drew her into the +path of light that streamed out and bent above her. The woman struggled +to speak, moving her head from side to side and lifting it. A groan +burst from her as if she realized that the end had come and her effort +would be useless. He, too, realized it. He pointed upward quickly. + +"There is your God," he said, earnestly, "waiting! Tell me in His name, +am I your child? You know! A mother never forgets! Answer--close your +eyes--give me a sign if they have lied to you!" + +She half-rose in frantic struggle. Her eyes seemed bursting from their +sockets, and her lips framed her last sentence in almost a shriek. + +"They lied!" + +Edward was on his feet in an instant; his lips echoing her words. "They +lied!" The gaslight from within illumined his features, now bright with +triumph, as he looked upward. + +The old general rushed out. He saw the prostrate form and fixed eyes of +the corpse. + +"What is it?" he asked, horrified. Edward turned to him, dizzily; his +gaze followed the old man's. + +"Ah!" he said, "the nurse! She has died of anxiety and watching!" A loud +summons from the ponderous knocker echoed in the house. Edward, excited, +had already begun to move away. + +"Hold!" exclaimed the general, "where now?" + +"I go to meet the slanderer of my race! God have mercy upon him now, +when we come face to face!" His manner alarmed the general. He caught +him by the arm. + +"Easy now, my young friend; the poor woman's fate has unnerved you; not +a step further." He led Edward to the wing-room and forced him down to +the divan. "Stay until I return!" The summons without had been renewed; +the general responded in person and found Marsden Thomas at the door, +who gazed in amazement upon the stately form before him, and after a +moment's hesitation said, stiffly: + +"I have a communication to deliver to Gerald Morgan. Will you kindly +summon him, general?" + +"I know your errand," said Evan, blandly, "and you need waste no +ceremony on me. Gerald is too ill to act longer for Edward Morgan. I +take his place to-night." + +"You! Gen. Evan!" + +"Why not? Did you ever hear that Albert Evan left a friend upon the +field? Come in, come in, Thomas; we are mixed up in this matter, but it +is not our quarrel. I want to talk with you." + +Thomas smiled; the matter was to end in a farce. + +Without realizing it, these two men were probably the last in the world +to whom should have fallen an affair of honor that might have been +settled by concessions. The bluff old general defeated Thomas' efforts +to stand on formal ground, got him into a seat, and went directly at the +matter. + +"It must strike you, Thomas, as absurd that in these days men cannot +settle their quarrels peacefully. There is obliged to be a right and a +wrong side always, and sometimes the right side has some fault in it and +the wrong side some justice. No man can hesitate, when this adjustment +has been made, to align himself with one and repudiate the other. Now, +we both represent friends, and neither of us can suffer them to come out +of this matter smirched. I would not be willing for Royson to do so, and +certainly not for Morgan. If we can bring both parties out safely, is it +not our duty to do so? You will agree with me!" Thomas said without +hesitation: + +"I waive a great deal, General, on your account, when I discuss this +matter at all; but I certainly cannot enter into the merits of the +quarrel unless you withdraw your demand upon us. You have demanded a +retraction of a charge made by us or satisfaction. You cannot expect me +to discuss the advisability of a retraction when I have here a note--" + +"Which you have not delivered, and which I, an old man sick of war and +quarrels, beg that you will not deliver until we have talked over this +matter fully. Why cannot Royson retract, when he has my assurance that +he is in error?" + +"For the reason, probably, General, that he does not believe your +statements--although his friends do!" Evan arose and paced the room. +Coming back he stood over the young man. + +"Did he say so? By the eternal--" + +"General, suppose we settle one affair at a time; I as Royson's friend, +herewith hand you, his reply to the demand of Mr. Morgan. Now, give me +your opinion as to the locality where this correspondence can be quietly +and successfully concluded, in the event that your principal wishes to +continue it." Trembling with rage the old man opened the message; it +read: + + "Mr. Edward Morgan--Sir. I have your communication of this date + handed to me at 8 o'clock to-night by Mr. Gerald Morgan. I have + no retraction or apology to make. + + "Amos Royson." + +Gen. Evan looked upon the missive sadly and long. He placed it upon the +table and resumed his seat, saying: + +"Do you understand, Mr. Thomas, that what I have said is entirely upon +my own responsibility and as a man who thinks his age and record have +given him a privilege with his young friends?" + +"Entirely, General. And I trust you understand that I am without the +privilege of age and record, and cannot take the same liberties." The +general made no reply, but was looking intently upon the face of the +young man. Presently he said, earnestly: + +"Your father and I were friends and stood together on many a bloody +field. I bore him in my arms from Shiloh and gazed upon his dead face an +hour later. No braver man ever lived than William Thomas. I believe you +are the worthy son of a noble sire and incapable of any act that could +reflect disgrace upon his name." + +The general continued: "You cannot link yourself to an unjust cause and +escape censure; such a course would put you at war with yourself and at +war with those who hope to see you add new honors to a name already dear +to your countrymen. When you aid and abet Amos Royson, in his attempt to +put a stigma upon Edward Morgan, you aid and abet him in an effort to do +that for which there is no excuse. Everything stated in Royson's letter, +and especially the personal part of it, can be easily disproved." Thomas +reflected a moment. Finally he said: + +"I thank you, General, for your kind words. The matter is not one within +my discretion, but give me the proofs you speak of, and I will make +Royson withdraw, if possible, or abandon the quarrel myself!" + +"I have given my word; is that not enough?" + +"On that only, Mr. Royson's friends require him to give Mr. Morgan the +recognition of a gentleman; without it he would not. The trouble is, you +can be mistaken." Evan reflected and a look of trouble settled upon his +face. + +"Mr. Thomas, I am going to make a revelation involving the honor and +reputation of a family very dear to me. I do it only to save bloodshed. +Give me your word of honor that never in any way, so long as you may +live, will you reveal it. I shall not offer my unsupported word; I will +produce a witness." + +"You have my word of honor that your communication will be kept sacred," +said Thomas, greatly interested. The general bowed his head. Then he +raised his hand above the call bell; it did not descend. The martial +figure for a moment seemed to shrink and age. When the general looked at +length toward his visitor, he said in a whisper: + +"The witness is dead!" Then he arose to his feet. "It is too late!" he +added, with a slight gesture; "we shall fight!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +THE DUEL AT SUNRISE. + + +From that moment they discussed the arrangements formally. These were +soon made and Thomas departed. + +Edward, regaining his coolness in the wing-room, with the assistance of +Virdow, who had been awakened by the disturbance, carried the body of +Rita to the house in the yard and sent for a suburban physician near at +hand. The man of medicine pronounced the woman dead. Negroes from the +quarters were summoned and took the body in charge. These arrangements +completed, he met the general in the hall. + +"A settlement is impossible," said the latter, sadly. "Get your buggy! +Efforts may be made by arrests to stop this affair. You must go home +with me to-night." Virdow was put in charge of the premises and an +excuse made. + +Alone, Edward returned to the side of the dead woman. Long and earnestly +he studied her face, and at last said: "Farewell!" Then he went to +Gerald's room and laid his lips upon the marble brow of the sleeper. +Upstairs he put certain papers and the little picture in his pocket, +closed the mother's room door and locked it. He turned and looked back +upon the white-columned house as he rode away. Only eight weeks had +passed since he first entered its doors. + +Before leaving, the general had stabled his horse and telephoned Montjoy +at the hotel. Taking a rear street he passed with Edward through the +city and before daylight drew up in front of the Cedars. + +Dueling at the time these events transpired was supposed to be dead in +the south, and practically it was. The press and pulpit, the changed +system of business and labor, state laws, but, above all these, +occupation had rendered it obsolete; but there was still an element that +resorted to the code for the settlement of personal grievances, and +sometimes the result was a bloody meeting. The new order of things was +so young that it really took more courage to refuse to fight than to +fight a duel. The legal evasion was the invitation to conclude the +correspondence outside the state. + +The city was all excitement. The morning papers had columns and black +head lines setting forth all the facts that could be obtained, and more +besides. There was also a brief card from Edward Morgan, denouncing the +author of the letter which had appeared in the extra and denying all +charges brought against him, both personal and political. + +At Mr. Royson's boarding place nothing had been seen of him since the +publication of the card, and his office was closed. Who it was that +acted for Edward Morgan was a matter of surmise, but Col. Montjoy and +Gen. Evan were in the city and quartered at the hotel. The latter had +gone to Ilexhurst and had not returned. + +Peace warrants for Morgan and Royson had been issued and placed in the +hands of deputies, and two of them had watched outside a glass room at +Ilexhurst waiting for a man who was asleep inside, and who had been +pointed out to them by a German visitor as Mr. Morgan, to awaken. The +sleeper, however, proved to be Gerald Morgan, an invalid. + +At noon a bulletin was posted to the effect that Thomas and Royson had +been seen on a South Carolina train; then another that Gen. Evan and +Edward Morgan were recognized in Alabama; then came Tennessee rumors. + +The truth was, so far as Edward Morgan was concerned, he was awakened +before noon, given a room in a farmhouse, remote from the Evan dwelling, +and there settled down to write important letters. One of these he +signed in the presence of witnesses. The last one contained the picture, +some papers and a short note to Gen. Evan; also Edward's surmises as to +Gerald's identity. The other letters were for Virdow, Gerald and Mary. +He had not signed the last when Evan entered the room, but was sitting +with arms folded above it and his head resting on them. + +"Letter writing!" said the general. "That is the worst feature of these +difficulties." He busied himself with a case he carried, turning his +back. Edward sealed his letter and completed his package. + +"Well," he said, rising. "I am now at your service, Gen. Evan!" + +"The horses are ready. We shall start at once and I will give you +instructions on the way." + +The drive was thirty miles, to a remote station upon a branch road, +where the horses were left. + +Connection was made with the main line, yet more distant, and the next +dawn found them at a station on the Florida border. + +They had walked to the rendezvous and were waiting; Edward stood in deep +thought, his eyes fixed upon vacancy, his appearance suggesting profound +melancholy. The general watched him furtively and finally with +uneasiness. After all, the young man was a stranger to him. He had been +drawn into the difficulty by his sympathies, and based his own safety +upon his ability to read men. Experience upon the battle field, however, +had taught him that men who have never been under fire sometimes fail at +the last moment from a physical weakness unsuspected by even themselves. +What if this man should fail? He went up to Edward and laid a hand upon +his shoulder. + +"My young friend, when you are as old as I you will realize that in +cases like this the less a man thinks the better for his nerves. +Circumstances have removed you from the realm of intellect and heart. +You are now simply the highest type of an animal, bound to preserve self +by a formula, and that is the blunt fact." Edward seemed to listen +without hearing. + +"General," he said, presently, "I do not want your services in this +affair under a misapprehension. I have obeyed directions up to this +moment, but before the matter goes further I must tell you what is in my +mind. My quarrel with Amos Royson is because of his injury to me and his +injury to my friends through me. He has made charges, and the customs of +this country, its traditions, make those charges an injury. I believe +the man has a right to resent any injury and punish the spirit behind +it." Gen. Evan was puzzled. He waited in silence. + +"I did not make these fine distinctions at first, but the matter has +been upon my mind and now I wish you to understand that if this poor +woman were my mother I would not fight a duel even if I could, simply +because someone told me so in print. If it were true, this story, there +would be no shame to me in it; there would be no shame to me unless I +deserted her. If it were true I should be her son in deed and truth. I +would take her by the hand and seek her happiness in some other land. +For, as God is my judge, to me the world holds nothing so sacred as a +mother, and I would not exchange the affections of such were she the +lowliest in the land, for all the privileges of any society. It is right +that you should know the heart of the man you are seconding. If I fall +my memory shall be clear of the charge of unmanliness." + +Gen. Evan's appearance, under less tragic circumstances, would have been +comical. For one instant, and for the first time in his life, he +suffered from panic. His eyes, after a moment of wide-open amazement, +turned helplessly toward the railroad and he began to feel for his +glasses. When he got them adjusted he studied his companion critically. +But the explosion that should have followed when the situation shaped +itself in the old slaveholder's mind did not come. He saw before him the +form of his companion grow and straighten, and the dark eyes, softened +by emotion, shining fearlessly into his. It was the finest appeal that +could have been made to the old soldier. He stretched out his hand +impulsively. + +"Unorthodox, but, by heavens, I like it!" he said. + +The up-train brought Royson and Thomas and a surgeon from a Florida +town. Evan was obliged to rely upon a local doctor. + +At sunrise the two parties stood in the shadow of live oaks, not far +apart. Evan and Thomas advanced and saluted each other formally. Evan +waited sadly for the other to speak; there was yet time for an honorable +settlement. Men in the privacy of their own rooms think one way, and +think another way in the solemn silence of a woodland sunrise. + +And preceding it all in this instance there had been hours for +reflection and hours of nervous apprehension. The latter told plainly +upon Amos Royson. White and haggard, he moved restlessly about his +station, watching the seconds and ever and anon stealing side-long +glances at Morgan. Why, he asked himself, did the man stare at him with +that fixed, changeless expression? Was he seeking to destroy his nerves, +to overpower him with superior will? No. The gaze was simply +contemplative; the gaze of one looking upon a landscape and considering +its features. But it was a never-ending one to all appearances. + +Hope died away from the general's heart at the first words of Thomas. + +"We are here, Gen. Evan. What is your pleasure as to the arrangements? I +would suggest that we proceed at once to end this affair. I notice that +we are beginning to attract attention and people are gathering." + +The general drew him aside and they conversed. The case of pistols was +opened, the weapons examined and carefully loaded and then the ground +was stepped off--fifteen paces upon a north and south line, with the +low, spreading mass of live oaks behind each station. There were no +perpendicular lines, no perspective, to influence the aim of either +party. There were really no choice of positions, but one had to be +chosen. A coin flashed in the sunlight as it rose and descended. + +"We win," said Thomas, simply, "and choose the north stand. Take your +place." The general smiled grimly. + +"I have faced north before," he said. He stood upon the point +designated, and pointed to Edward. Then the latter was forced to speak. +He still gazed fixedly upon his antagonist. The general looked steadily +into his pale face, and, pointing to his own track as he moved aside, +said: + +"Keep cool, now, my boy, and fire instantly. These pistols are heavier +than revolvers; I chose them because the recoil of a revolver is +destructive of an amateur's aim. These will shoot to the spot. Keep +cool, keep cool, for God's sake, and remember the insult!" + +"Have no fear for me," said Morgan. "I will prove that no blood of a +slave is here!" + +He took the weapon and stood in position. He had borne in mind all the +morning the directions given by Gerald; he knew every detail of that +figure facing him in the now bright sunlight; he had sketched it in +detail to the mouth that uttered its charge against him. The hour might +pass with no disaster to him; he might fall a corpse or a cripple for +life; but so long as life lasted this picture would remain. A man with a +hard, pale face, a white shirt front, dark trousers, hand clasping +nervously a weapon, and behind all the deep green of the oaks, with +their chiaroscuro. Only one thing would be missing; the picture in mind, +clear cut and perfect in every other detail, lacked a mouth! + +Some one is calling to them. + +"Are you ready, gentlemen?" 'Twas the hundredth part of a second, but +within it he answered "yes," ready to put the pencil to that last +feature--to complete the picture for all time! + +"Fire!" He raised his brush and touched the spot; there was a crash, a +shock, and--what were they doing? His picture had fallen from its frame +and they were lifting it. But it was complete; the carmine was spattered +all over the lower face. He heard the general's voice: + +"Are you hurt, Edward?" and the pistol was taken from his grasp. + +"Hurt! No, indeed! But I seemed to have spoiled my painting, General. +Look! My brush must have slipped; the paint was too thin." + +The general hurried away. + +"Keep your place; don't move an inch! Can I be of assistance, +gentlemen?" he continued to the opposite party; our surgeon can aid you, +my principal being uninjured. He paused; an exclamation of horror +escaped him. The mouth and nose of Royson seemed crushed in, and he was +frantically spitting broken teeth from a bloody gap where his mouth had +been. The surgeons worked rapidly to stay the flow of crimson. While +thus busy the general in wonder picked up Royson's pistol. Its trigger +and guard were gone. He looked at the young man's right hand; the +forefinger was missing. + +"An ugly wound, gentlemen," he said, "but not fatal, I think. The ball +struck the guard, cut away a finger, and drove the weapon against the +mouth and nose." + +The surgeon looked up. + +"You are right, I think. A bad disfigurement of those features, but not +a dangerous wound." Thomas saluted. + +"I have to announce my principal disabled, General." + +"We are then satisfied." + +Returning to Edward, who was quietly contemplating the scene with little +apparent interest, he said, almost gayly: + +"A fine shot, Edward; a fine shot! His pistol saved him! If he had +raised it an instant later he would have been struck fairly in the mouth +by your bullet! Let us be going." + +"It is perhaps fortunate that my shot was fired when it was," said +Edward. "I have a bullet hole through the left side of my shirt." The +general looked at the spot and then at the calm face of the speaker. + +He extended his hand again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE SHADOW OVER THE HALL. + + +Col. Montjoy returned home early. He rode into the yard and entered the +house with as much unconcern as he could affect. Annie met him at the +door with an unusual display of interest. Had he rested well? Was not +the hotel warm, and--was there anything of interest stirring in the +city? To all these questions he responded guardedly and courteously. +Mary's white face questioned him. He put his arm about her. + +"And how is the little mamma to-day--have her eyes given her any more +trouble?" + +"She is staying in the darkened room to avoid the light," said the girl. +He went to her and the two young women were left alone. Annie was +smiling and bent upon aggravation. + +"I think I shall ride in," she said at length. "There is something afoot +that is being kept from me. Amos Royson is my cousin and I have a right +to know if he is in trouble." Mary did not reply for a moment. At last +she said: + +"A man having written such a letter must expect to find himself in +trouble--and danger, too." The other laughed contemptuously. + +"I did not say danger! Amos has little to fear from the smooth-faced, +milk-and-water man he has exposed." + +"Wait and see," was the reply. "Amos Royson is a coward; he will not +only find himself in danger, but if necessary to save himself from a +cowhiding will involve other people--even a woman!" + +"What do you mean? You have not always thought him a coward; you have +accepted his attentions and would have married him if you had had the +chance." Mary looked up quickly. + +"I treated him with politeness because he was your cousin; that is all. +As for marriage with him, that is too absurd to have even occurred to +me." + +Annie ordered Isam to bring her pony carriage, and as she waited Mary +watched her in silence and with a strange expression upon her face. When +her father returned she said, resolutely: + +"Annie, I was awake last night and heard a horse coming. Thinking it +might be papa, although the pace was rather fast for him, I went out to +the gate. There was a negro with a note for you from Mr. Royson. Mamma +had just got to sleep and I was afraid of waking her, so I sent Mr. +Royson word to see papa at the hotel." + +The sister-in-law seized her by the shoulder. + +"By what right, miss, do you meddle with my business! It may have been a +question of a man's life! You have ruined everything!" She was trembling +with rage. Mary faced her resolutely. + +"And it may have been a question of a man's honor. In either case, my +father is the one to consult!" + +"Sit down, both of you! Annie--Mary, I desire this matter to end at +once!" Col. Montjoy spoke calmly but firmly. He retained his clasp upon +his daughter's hand and gradually as he talked drew her to his knees. + +"There is a serious difficulty pending between Mr. Morgan and Amos +Royson, as you both probably know," he said, quietly. "The matter is in +good hands, however, and I think will be satisfactorily arranged. I do +not know which were better, to have delivered Amos' note or not. It was +a question Mary had to decide upon the spur of the moment. She took a +safe course, at least. But it is unseemly, my children, to quarrel over +it! Drop the matter now and let affairs shape themselves. We cannot take +one side or the other." Annie made no reply, but her lips wore their +ironical smile as she moved away. + +Mary hid her face upon her father's breast and wept softly. She knew +that he did not blame her, and she knew by intuition that she had done +right, but she was not satisfied. No shadow should come between her +father and herself. + +"I was certain," she said, "that there was something wrong in that note. +You remember what I told you. And I was determined that those two people +should not hatch up any more mischief in this house. Mr. Morgan's safety +might have depended upon keeping them apart." The colonel laughed and +shook his head. But he only said: + +"If it will help clear up your skies a little, I don't mind telling you +that I would not have had that note delivered last night for half this +plantation." She was satisfied then. + +"Who ordered the cart, Isam?" The negro was at the gate. + +"Young mis', sah. She goin' to town." + +"Well, you can put it back. It will not be necessary for her to go now. +Annie," he said, turning to that lady, as she appeared in the door, "I +have sent the cart back. I prefer that none of my family be seen upon +the streets to-day." There was an unwonted tone in his voice which she +did not dare disregard. With a furious look, which only Mary saw, she +returned to her room. A negro upon a mule brought a note. It read: + + "Dear Norton: All attempts at settlement have failed. I should + like to see you, but think you had better maintain strict + neutrality, will wire you to-morrow. + + "A. E." + +"There is no answer," he said to the boy. And then, greatly depressed, +he went to his room. Mary, who read every thought correctly, knew that +the matter was unsettled and that her father was hopeless. She went +about her duties steadily, but with her heart breaking. The chickens, +pigeons, the little kids, the calves--none of them felt the tragedy in +their lives. Their mistress was grave and unappreciative; nothing more. +But her eyes were not closed. She saw little Jerry armed with a note go +out on the mare across the lower-creek bridge, and the expectant face of +Annie for two hours or more in every part of the house that commanded a +view of that unused approach. + +Then Jerry came back and went to the sister-in-law's door. He had not +reached his quarters before Mary called him to help her catch a +fractious hen. Then she got him into the dining-room and cut an enormous +slice of iced cake. + +"Jerry," she said, "how would you like that?" Jerry's white eyes and +teeth shone resplendent. He shifted himself to his left foot and +laughed. "Tell me where you have been and it is yours." Jerry looked +abashed and studied a silver quarter he held in his hand, then he +glanced around cautiously. + +"Honest, missy?" + +"Honest! Quick, or I put the cake back." She made a feint. + +"Been to town." + +"Of course. Who was the note for?" + +"Mr. Royson." + +"Did he answer it?" + +"No'm. Couldn't find him. Er nigger tole me he gone ter fight wid Mr. +Morgan, and everybody waitin' ter hear de news." + +"You can--go--Jerry. There," she handed him the cake, and, walking +unsteadily, went to her room. She did not come out until supper time and +then her face was proof that the "headache" was not feigned. + +And so into the night. She heard the doors open and shut, the sound of +her father's footsteps on the porch as he came and went. She went out +and joined him, taking his arm. + +"Papa," she said, after awhile, "you need not keep it from me. I know +all. They did not settle it. Mr. Morgan and Mr. Royson have gone to +fight." She could not proceed. Her father laid his hand upon hers. + +"It will all come out right, Mary; it will all come out right." +Presently he said: "Amos used to come here. I hope you are not +interested in him." + +"No," she said bitterly, "I could never think much of Annie's relatives. +One in the family is enough." + +"Hush, my child; everything must give way now on Norton's account. Don't +forget him. But for Norton I would have settled this matter in another +way." + +"Yes, and but for him there would never have been a necessity. Amos +depended upon his relationship to keep you out of it." Col. Montjoy had +long unconsciously relied upon the clear mind of the girl, but he was +not prepared for this demonstration of its wisdom. He wondered anew as +he paced the floor in silence. She continued: "But Amos is only the +tool, papa; all of us have an enemy here in the house. Annie----" + +"Hush! Hush!" he whispered, "don't say it. It seems too awful to think +of! Annie is foolish! She must never know, on Norton's account, that she +is in any way suspected of complicity in this matter." And then in +silence they waited for dawn. + +At last the merciful sun rolled away the shadows. Breakfast was a sad +affair. All escaped from it as soon as possible. + +It was a fateful day--7, 8, 9 o'clock. The matter was ended; but how? +Mary's haggard face questioned her father at every turn. He put his arm +about her and went to see her pets and charges, but still no word +between them. She would not admit her interest in Edward Morgan, nor +would he admit to himself that she had an interest at stake. + +And then toward noon there came a horseman, who placed a message in his +hands. He read it and handed it to Mary. If he had not smiled she could +not have read it. One word only was there: + +"Safe!" + +Her father was at the moment unfolding an 'extra.' She read it with him +in breathless interest. Following an unusual display of headlines came +an accurate account of the duel. Only a small part of the padded +narrative is reproduced here: + +"Royson was nervous and excited and showed the effects of unrest. But +Morgan stood like a statue. For some reason he never moved his eyes from +his adversary a moment after they reached the field. Both men fired at +the command, their weapons making but one report. Some think, however, +that Morgan was first by the hundredth part of a second, and this is +possible, as the single report sounded like a crash or a prolonged +explosion. Royson fell, and it was supposed was certainly killed. He +presented a frightful appearance instantly, being covered with blood. It +was quickly ascertained, however, that he was not dangerously hurt, his +opponent's shot having cut off a finger and the pistol guard, had hurled +the heavy weapon into his face. He escaped with a broken nose and the +loss of his front teeth. + +"Morgan, who had preserved his wonderful coolness from the first, +received a bullet through a fold of his shirt that darkened the skin to +the left of his heart. It was a narrow escape. Parties took the up +train." + +The extra went on to say that since the first reading of the original +card the public mind had undergone a revulsion in Morgan's favor; a +feeling greatly stimulated by the fact that Gen. Evan had come to the +rescue of that gentleman; had vouched for him in every respect and was +acting as his second. When the colonel had finished the thrilling news +he noticed that Mary's head was in his lap, and felt tears upon his hand +above which her own were clasped. Annie was looking on, cold and white. + +"There has been a duel, my daughter," he said to her kindly, "and, +fortunately, without alarming results. Mr. Royson lost a finger, I +believe, and received a bruise in the face; that is all. Nothing +serious. It might have been much worse. Here is the paper," he +concluded, "probably an exaggerated account." She took it in silence and +returned to her room. She ran her eye through every sentence without +reading and at last threw the sheet aside. + +Only those who knew the whole character of Annie Montjoy would have +understood. She was looking for her name; it was not there. Her smiling +face was proof enough. + +Long they sat, father and daughter, his hand still stroking lightly her +bowed head. At last he said, very gently, the hand trembling a little: + +"This has been a hard trial for us both--for us both! I am glad it is +over! Morgan is too fine a fellow to have been sacrificed to this man's +hatred and ambition." She looked up, her face wet and flushed. + +"There was more than that, papa." + +"More? How could there be?" + +She hesitated, and then said, bravely: "Mr. Royson has more than once +asked me to marry him." The colonel's face grew black with sudden rage. + +"The scoundrel!" + +"And he has imagined that because Mr. Morgan came to help your +election--oh, I cannot." She turned hastily and went away in confusion. + +And still the colonel sat and thought with clouded face. + +"I must ask Evan," he said. + +"Colonel, Mis' Calline says come deir, please." A servant stood by him. +He arose and went into his wife's room. She was standing by the open +window, its light flooding the apartment, her bandages removed. + +"Why, Caroline, you are imprudent, don't you know? What is it, my dear? +She was silent and rigid, a living statue bathed in the glory of the +autumn sun. She waited until she felt his hand in hers. + +"Norton," she said, simply, but with infinite pathos, "I am afraid +that I have seen your loved face for the last time. I am blind!" He +took her in his arms--the form that even age could not rob of its +girlishness--and pressed her face to his breast. It had come at last. +His tears fell for the first time since boyhood. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE PROFILE ON THE MOON. + + +Virdow felt the responsibility of his position. He had come on a +scientific errand and found himself plunged into a tragedy. And there +were attendant responsibilities, the most serious of which was the +revelation to Gerald of what had occurred. + +The young man precipitated the crisis. The deputies gone, he wanted his +coffee; it had not failed him in a lifetime. Again and again he rang his +bell, and finally from the door of his wing-room called loudly for Rita. +Then the professor saw that the time for action had come. The watchers +about the body were consulting. None cared to face that singular being +of whom they felt a superstitious dread, but if they did not come to him +he would finally go to them. What would be the result of his unexpected +discovery of the tragedy? It might be disastrous. As he spoke, he +removed his glasses from time to time, carefully wiping and replacing +them, his faded eyes beaming in sympathy and anxiety upon his young +acquaintance. + +"Herr Gerald," he began, "you know the human heart?" Gerald frowned and +surveyed him with impatience. + +"Sometimes at last the little valve, as you call it--sometimes the +little valve grows weak, and when the blood leaps out too quickly and +can't run on quickly enough--you understand--it comes back suddenly +again and drives the valve lid back the wrong way." + +"Then it is a ruined piece of machinery." + +"So," said the professor, sadly; "you have stated it correctly. So, +Rita--she had an old heart--and it is ruined!" + +Gerald gazed upon him in doubt, but fearful. + +"You mean Rita is dead?" + +"Yes," said Virdow. "Poor Rita!" Gerald studied the face before him +curiously, passed his hand across his brow, as if to clear away a cloud, +and then went out across the yard. The watchers fled at his approach. In +the little room he came upon the body. The woman, dressed in her best +but homely attire, lay with her hands crossed upon her bosom, her face +calm and peaceful. Upon her lips was that strange smile which sometimes +comes back over a gulf of time from forgotten youth. He touched her +wrist and watched her. + +Virdow was right; she was dead. + +As if to converse with a friend, he took a seat upon the couch and +lifting one cold hand held it while he remained. This was Rita, who had +always come to wake him when he slept too late; had brought his meals, +had answered whenever he called, and found him when he wandered too long +under the stars and guided him back to his room. Rita, who, when his +moods distracted him, had only to fix her eyes on his and speak his +name, and all was peace again. + +This was Rita. Dead! + +How could it be? How could anything be wrong with Rita? It was +impossible! He put his hand above the heart; it was silent. He spoke her +name. She did not reply. + +Gradually, as he concentrated his attention upon the facts, his mind +emerged from its shadows. Yes, Rita, his friend, was dead. And then +slowly, his life, with its haunting thoughts, its loneliness, came back, +and the significance of these facts overwhelmed him. + +He knew now who Rita was; it was an old, old story. He knelt and laid +his cheek upon that yellow chilled hand, the only hand that had ever +lovingly touched him. + +She had been a mother indeed; humoring his every whim. She had never +scolded; not Rita! + +The doctors had said he could sleep without his opium; they shut him up +and he suffered torments. Rita came in the night. Her little store of +money had been drawn on. They, together, deceived the doctors. For years +they deceived them, he and Rita, until all her little savings were gone. +And then she had worked for the gentlemen down-town; had schemed and +plotted and brought him comfort, until the doctors gave up the struggle. + +Now she was gone--forever! Strange, but this contingency had never once +occurred to him. How egotistical he must have been; how much a child--a +spoiled child! + +He looked about him. Rita had years ago told him a secret. In the night +she had bent over him and called him fond names; had wept upon his +pillow. She had told him to speak the word just once, never again but +that one time, and then to forget it. Wondering he said it--"Mother." He +could not forget how she fell upon him then and tearfully embraced him; +he the heir and nephew of John Morgan. But it pleased good Rita and he +was happy. + +Dead! Rita! Would it waken her if he spoke that name again? He bent to +her cheek to say it, but first he looked about him cautiously. Rita +would not like for any one to share the secret. He bent until his lips +were touching hers and whispered it again: + +"Mother!" She did not move. He spoke louder and louder. + +"Mother." How strange sounded that one word in the deserted room. A fear +seized him; would she never speak again? He dropped on his knees in +agony; and, with his hand upon her forehead, almost screamed the word +again. It echoed for the last time--"Mother!" Just then the face of +Virdow appeared at the door, to be withdrawn instantly. + +Then Gerald grew cool. "She is dead," he said, sadly to himself. "She +would have answered that!" + +A change came over him! He seemed to emerge from a dream; Virdow stood +by him now. Drawing himself up proudly he gazed upon the dead face. + +"She was a good nurse--a better no child ever had. Were my uncle living +he would build her a great monument. I will speak to Edward about it. It +is not seemly that people who have served the Morgans so long and +faithfully should sleep in unmarked graves. Farewell, Rita; you have +been good and true to me." He went to his room. An hour later Virdow +found him there, crying as a child. + +With a tenderness that rose superior to the difficulties of language and +the differences of race and customs, Virdow comforted and consoled him. +And then occurred one of those changes familiar to the students of +nature but marvelous to the unobservant. To Virdow, who had seen the +vine of his garden torn from the supporting rod about which it had tied +itself with tendrils, attach itself again by the gluey points of new +ones to the smooth face of the wall itself, coiling them into springs to +resist the winds, the change that came upon Gerald was natural. The +broken tendrils of his life touched with quick intelligence the +sympathetic old German and linked the simple being of the child-man to +him. By an intuition, womanly in its swift comprehension, Virdow knew at +once that he had become in some ways necessary to the life of the frail +being, and he was pleased. He gave himself up to the mission without +effort, disturbing in no way the new process. Watching Gerald, he +appeared not to watch; present at all times, he seemed to keep himself +aloof. + +Virdow called up an undertaker from the city in accordance with the +directions left with him and had the body of Rita prepared for the +burial, which was to take place upon the estate, and then left all to +the care of the watchers. During the day from time to time Gerald went +to the little room, and on such visits those in attendance withdrew. + +There was little excitement among the negroes. The singing, shouting and +violent ecstasies which distinguished the burials of the race were +wanting; Rita had been one of those rare servants who keep aloof from +her color. Gradually withdrawn from all contact with the world, her life +had shrunk into a little round of duties and the care of the Morgan +home. + +It was only natural that the young master should find himself alone with +the nurse on each return to her coffin. During one of these visits +Virdow at a distance beheld a curious thing. Gerald had gazed long and +thoughtfully into the silent face and returning to his room had secured +paper and crayon. Kneeling, he drew carefully the profile of his dead +friend and went away to his studio. Standing in his place a moment +later, Virdow was surprised to note the change that had come over the +face; the relaxing power of death seemed to have rolled back the curtain +of age and restored for the hour a glimpse of youth. A woman of +twenty-five seemed lying there, her face noble and serene, a glorified +glimpse of what had been. The brow was smooth and young, the facial +angle high, the hair, now no longer under the inevitable turban, smooth +and black, with just a suspicion of frost above the temples. The lips +were curved and smiling. + +Why had the young man drawn her profile? What real position did this +woman occupy in that strange family? As to the latter he could not +determine; he would not try. He had nothing to do with the domestic +facts of life. There had been a deep significance in the first scene at +the bedside. And yet "Mother" under the circumstances might after all +mean nothing. He had heard that southern children were taught this, or +something like it, by all black nurses. But as to the profile, there was +a phenomenon possibly, and science was his life. The young man had drawn +the profile because it was the first time he had within his +recollections ever seen it. In the analysis of his dreams that profile +might be of momentous importance. + +The little group that had gathered followed the coffin to a clump of +trees not far removed. The men who bore it lowered it at once to the +open grave. An old negro preacher lifted his voice in a homely prayer, +the women sang a weird hymn, and then they filled up the cavity. The +face and form of Rita were removed from human vision, but only the face +and form. For one of that concourse, the young white man who had come +bareheaded to stand calm and silent at the foot of the grave, she lived +clear and distinct upon the hidden film of memory. + +Virdow was not deceived by that calmness; he knew and feared the +reaction which was inevitable. From time to time during the evening he +had gone silently to the wing-room and to the outer yard to gaze in upon +his charge. Always he found him calm and rational. He could not +understand it. + +Then, disturbed by the suspense of Edward's absence, and the uncertainty +of his fate, he would forget himself and surroundings in contemplation +of the possible disasters of an American duel--exaggerated accounts of +which dwelt in his memory. He resolved to remain up until the crisis +came. + +It was midnight when, for the twentieth time, probably, he went to look +in upon Gerald. The wing-room, the glass-room, the little house deprived +by death of its occupant, the outer premises--he searched them all in +vain. Greatly troubled, he stood revolving the new perplexity in his +mind when his eye caught in the faint glow of the east, where the moon +was beginning to show its approach, the outline of the cemetery clump of +trees. It flashed upon him then that, drawn by the power of association, +the young man might have wandered off to pay a visit to the grave of his +friend. He turned his own feet in the same direction, and approached the +spot. The grave had been dug under the wide-spread limbs of cedar, and +there he found the object of his quest. + +Slowly the moon rose above the level field beyond, outlining a form. In +his dressing gown stood Gerald, with folded arms, his long hair falling +upon his shoulders, lost in deep thought. + +Thrilled by the scene, Virdow was about to speak, when, in the twinkling +of an eye, there was flashed upon him a vision that sent his blood back +to his heart and left him speechless with emotion. For in that moment +the half-moon was at the level of the head, and outlined against its +silver surface he saw the profile of the face he had studied in the +coffin. Appalled by the discovery, he turned silently and sought his +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE MIDNIGHT SEARCH. + + +It was late in the day when Virdow awoke. The excitement, the unwonted +hours which circumstances forced him to keep, brought at last unbroken +rest and restored his physical structure to its normal condition. + +He dressed himself and descended to find a brief telegram announcing the +safety of Edward. It was a joyful addition to the conditions that had +restored him. The telegram had not been opened. He went quickly to +Gerald's room and found that young man at work upon a painting of Rita +as he had seen her last--the profile sketch. His emotional nature had +already thrown off its gloom, and with absorbed interest he was pushing +his work. Already the face had been sketched in and the priming +completed. Under his rapid and skillful hands the tints and contours +were growing, and Virdow, accustomed as he was to the art in all its +completeness and technical perfection, marveled to see the changed face +of the woman glide back into view, the counterpart he knew of the vivid +likeness clear cut in the sensitive brain that held it. He let him work +undisturbed. A word might affect its correctness. Only when the artist +ceased and laid aside his brush for a brief rest did he speak. + +Gerald turned to him as to a co-laborer, and took the yellow slip of +paper, so potent with intelligent lettering. He read it in silence; then +putting it aside went on with his painting. Virdow rubbed his brow and +studied him furtively. Such lack of interest was inconceivable under the +conditions. He went to work seriously to account for it and this he did +to his own satisfaction. In one of his published lectures on memory, +years after, occurred this sentence, based upon that silent reverie: + +"Impressions and forgetfulness are measurable by each other; indeed, the +power of the mind to remember vividly seems to be measured by its power +to forget." + +But afterward Gerald picked up the telegram, read it intently and seemed +to reflect over the information it contained. Later in the day the +postman brought the mail and with it one of the "extras." Virdow read it +aloud in the wing-room. Gerald came and stood before him, his eyes +revealing excitement. When Virdow reached the part wherein Edward was +described as never removing his eyes from his antagonist, his hearer +exclaimed: + +"Good! He will kill him!" + +"No," said Virdow, smiling; "fortunately he did not. Listen." + +"Fortunately!" cried Gerald; "fortunately! Why? What right has such a +man to live? He must have killed him!" Virdow read on. A cry broke from +Gerald's lips as the explanation appeared. + +"I was right! The hand becomes a part of the eye when the mind wills it; +or, rather, eye and hand become mind. The will is everything. But why he +should have struck the guard----" He went to the wall and took down two +pistols. Handing one to Virdow and stepping back he said: "You will +please sight at my face a moment; I cannot understand how the accident +could have happened." Virdow held the weapon gingerly. + +"But, Herr Gerald, it may be loaded." + +"They are empty," said Gerald, breeching his own and exposing the +cylinder chambers, with the light shining through. "Now aim!" Virdow +obeyed; the two men stood at ten paces, aiming at each other's faces. +"Your hand," said the young man, "covers your mouth. Edward aimed for +the mouth." + +There was a quick, sharp explosion; Virdow staggered back, dropping his +smoking pistol. Gerald turned his head in mild surprise and looked upon +a hole in the plastering behind. + +"I have no recollection of loading that pistol," he said. And then: "If +your mind had been concentrated upon your aim I would have lost a finger +and had my weapon driven into my face." Virdow was shocked at the narrow +escape and pale as death. + +"It is nothing," said Gerald, replacing the weapon; "you would not hit +me in a dozen trials, shooting as you do." + +At 10 o'clock that night Edward, pale and weary, entered. He returned +with emotion the professor's enthusiastic embrace, and thanked him for +his care and attention of Gerald and the household and for his services +to the dead. Gerald studied him keenly as he spoke, and once went to one +side and looked upon him with new and curious interest. The professor +saw that he was examining the profile of the speaker by the aid of the +powerful lamp on the table beyond. The discovery set his mind to working +in the same direction, and soon he saw the profiles of both. Edward's +did not closely resemble the other. That this was true, for some reason, +the expression that had settled upon Gerald's face attested. The +portrait had been covered and removed. + +Edward, after concluding some domestic arrangements, went directly to +his room and, dressed as he was, threw himself upon his bed and slept. + +And as he slept there took place about him a drama that would have set +his heart beating with excitement could he have witnessed it. The house +was silent; the city clock had tolled the midnight hour, when Gerald +came into the room, bearing a shaded lamp. The sleeper lay on his back, +locked in the slumber of exhaustion. The visitor, moving with the +noiselessness of a shadow, glided to the opposite side of the bed, and, +placing the lamp on a chair, slowly turned up the flame and tilted the +shade. In an instant the strong profile of the sleeper flashed upon the +wall. With suppressed excitement Gerald unwrapped a sheet of cardboard, +and standing it on the mantel received upon it the shadow. As if by a +supreme effort, he controlled himself and traced the profile on his +paper. Lifting it from the mantel he studied it for a moment intently +and then replaced it. The shadow filled the tracing. Taking it slowly +from its position he passed from the room. Fortunately his distraction +was too great for him to notice the face of Virdow, or to perceive it in +the deep gloom of the little room as he passed out. + +The German waited a few moments; no sound came back from the broad +carpeted stair; taking the forgotten lamp, he followed him silently. +Passing out into the shrubbery, he made his way to the side of the +conservatory and looked in. Gerald had placed the two profiles, one on +each side of the mirror, and with a duplex glass was studying his own in +connection with them. He stood musing, and then, as if forgetting his +occupation, he let the hand-glass crash upon the floor, tossed his arms +in an abandonment of emotion, and, covering his face with his hands, +suddenly threw himself across the bed. + +Virdow was distressed and perplexed. He read the story in the pantomime, +but what could he do? No human sympathy could comfort such a grief, nor +could he betray his knowledge of the secret he had surreptitiously +obtained. He paced up and down outside until presently the moving shadow +of the occupant of the room fell upon his path. He saw him then take +from a box a little pill and put it in his mouth, and he knew that the +troubles of life, its doubts, distress and loneliness, would be +forgotten for hours. + +Forgotten? Who knows? Oh, mystery of creation; that invisible +intelligence that vanishes in sleep and in death; gone on its voyage of +discovery, appalling in its possibilities; but yet how useless, since it +must return with no memory of its experience! + +And he, Virdow, what a dreamer! For in that German brain of subtleties +lived, with the clearness of an incandescent light in the depths of a +coal mine, one mighty purpose; one so vast, so potent in its +possibilities, as to shake the throne of reason, a resolution to follow +upon the path of mind and wake a memory never touched in the history of +science. It was not an ambition; it was a leap toward the gates of +heaven! For what cared he that his name might shine forever in the +annals of history if he could claim of his own mind the record of its +wanderings? The future was not his thought. What he sought was the +memory of the past! + +He went in now, secure of the possibility of disturbing the sleeper, and +stood looking down into the room's appointments; there were the two +profiles on either side of the mirror; upon the floor the shivered +fragments of the hand-glass. + +Virdow returned to his room, but before leaving he took from the little +box one of the pellets and swallowed it. If he was to know that mind, he +must acquaint himself with its conditions. He had never before swallowed +the drug; he took this as the Frenchman received the attenuated virus of +hydrophobia from the hands of Pasteur--in the interest of science and +the human race. + +As he lay upon his bed he felt a languor steal upon him, saw in far +dreams cool meadows and flowery slopes, felt the solace of perfect +repose envelop him. And then he stood beside a stream of running water +under the shade of the trees, with the familiar hills of youth along the +horizon. A young woman came and stood above the stream and looked +intently upon its glassy surface. Her feature were indistinct. Drawing +near he, too, looked into the water, and there at his feet was the sad, +sweet face of--Marion Evan. He turned and then looked closer at the +woman; he saw in her arms the figure of an infant, over whose face she +had drawn a fold of her gown. She shook her head as he extended his hand +to remove this and pointed behind her. There the grass ran out and only +white sand appeared, with no break to the horizon. + +Toiling on through this, with a bowed head, was a female figure. He knew +her; she was Rita, and the burden she, too, carried in her arms was the +form of a child. The figures disappeared and a leaf floated down the +stream; twenty-six in succession followed, and then he saw a man +descending the mountains and coming forward, his eyes fixed on something +beyond him. It was Edward. He looked in the same direction; there was a +frail man toiling toward him through the deep sands in the hot sunlight. +It was Gerald. And then the figures faded away. There memory ceased to +record. + +Whatever else was the experience of that eager mind as it wandered on +through the mystery, and phantasmagoria has no place in science. He +remembered in the morning up to one point only. + +It was his last experience with the drug. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +GATHERING THE CLEWS. + + +Edward drifted for several days upon the tide of the thoughts that came +over him. He felt a singular disinclination to face the world again. He +knew that as life goes he had acquitted himself manfully and that +nothing remained undone that had been his duty to perform. He was +sensible of a feeling of deep gratitude to the old general for his +active and invaluable backing; without it he realized then that he would +have been drawn into a pitfall and the opportunity for defense gone. He +did not realize, however, how complete the public reaction had been +until card after card had been left at Ilexhurst and the postman had +deposited congratulatory missives by the score. One of these contained +notice of his election to the club. + +Satisfactory as was all this he put aside the social and public life +into which he had been drawn, conscious that, while the affront to him +had been resented and rendered harmless, he himself was as much in the +dark as ever; that as a matter of fact he was without name and family, +without right to avail himself of the generous offers laid at his door. +Despite his splendid residence, his future, his talents and his prestige +as a man of honor, he was--nobody; an accident of fate; a whim of an +eccentric old man. + +He should not involve any one else in the possibility of ruin. He should +not let another share his danger. There could be no happiness with this +mystery hanging over him. + +Soon after his return, while his heart was yet sore and disturbed, he +had received a note from Mary. She wrote: + + "We suffer greatly on your account. Poor papa was bound down by + circumstances with which you are familiar, though he would gone + to you at any cost had it been necessary. In addition his + health is very delicate and he has been facing a heavy + sorrow--now realized at last! Poor little mamma's eyesight is + gone--forever, probably. We are in deep distress, as you may + imagine, for, unused as yet to her misfortune, she is quite + helpless and needs our constant care, and it is pitiful to see + her efforts to bear up and be cheerful. + + "I need not tell you how I have sorrowed over the insult and + wrongs inflicted upon you by a cowardly connection of our + family, nor how anxious I was until the welcome news of your + safety reached us. We owe you much, and more now since you were + made the innocent victim of a plot aimed to destroy papa's + chances. + + "It is unbearable to think of your having to stand up and be + shot at in our behalf; but oh, how glad I am that you had the + old general with you. Is he not noble and good? He is quite + carried away with you and never tires of talking of your + coolness and courage. He says everything has ended beautifully + but the election, and he could remedy that if papa would + consent, but nothing in the world could take papa away from us + now, and if he had been elected his resignation would have + speedily followed. + + "I know you are yet weary and bitter, and do not even care to + see your friends, but that will pass and none will give you a + more earnest welcome when you do come than + + "Mary." + +He read this many times, and each time found in it a new charm. Its +simplicity and earnestness impressed him at one reading and its personal +interest at another; its quick discerning sympathy in another. + +It grew upon him, that letter. It was the only letter ever penned by a +woman to him. Notes he had had by the score; rich young men in the great +capitals of Europe do not escape nor seek to escape these, but this was +straight from the heart of an earnest, self-reliant, sympathetic woman; +one of those who have made the South a fame as far as her sons have +traveled. It was a new experience and destined to be a lasting one. + +Its effect was in the end striking and happy. Gradually he roused +himself from the cynical lethargy into which he was sinking and began to +look about him. After all he had much to live for, and with peace came +new manhood. He would fight for the woman who had faith in him--such a +fight as man never dared before. He looked up to find Virdow smiling on +him through his tears. + +He stood up. "I am going to make a statement now that will surprise and +shock you, but the reason will be sufficient. First I ask that you +promise me, as though we stood before our Creator, a witness, that never +in this life nor the next, if consciousness of this goes with you, will +you betray by word or deed anything of what you hear from my lips +to-night. I do not feel any uneasiness, but promise." + +"I promise," said Virdow, simply, "but if it distresses you, if you feel +bound to me--" + +"On the contrary, the reason is selfish entirely. I tell you because the +possession of this matter is destroying my ability to judge fairly; +because I want help and believe you are the only being in the world who +can give it." He spoke earnestly and pathetically. "Without it, I shall +become--a wreck." Then Virdow seized the speaker's hand. + +"Go on, Edward. All the help that Virdow can give is yours in advance." + +Edward related to him the causes that led up to the duel--the political +campaign, the publication of Royson's card, and the history of the +challenge. + +"You call me Edward," he said; "the world knows me and I know myself as +Edward Morgan. I have no evidence whatever to believe myself entitled to +bear the name. All the evidence I have points to the fact that it was +bestowed upon me as was my fortune itself--in pity. The mystery that +overspreads me envelops Gerald also. But fate has left him superior to +misfortune." + +"It has already done for him what you fear for yourself--it has wrecked +his life, if not his mind!" The professor spoke the words sadly and +gently, looking into the night through the open window. + +Edward turned toward him in wonder. + +"I am sure. Listen and I will tell you why. To me it seems fatal to him, +but for you there is consolation." Graphically he described then the +events that had transpired during the few days of his stay at Ilexhurst; +his quick perception that the mind of Gerald was working feverishly, +furiously, and upon defined lines to some end; that something haunted +and depressed him. His secret was revealed in his conduct upon the death +of Rita. + +"It is plain," said Virdow finally, "that this thought--this +uncertainty--which has haunted you for weeks, has been wearing upon him +since childhood. Of the events that preceded it I have little or no +information." + +Edward, thrilled to the heart by this recital and the fact to which it +seemed to point, walked the floor greatly agitated. Presently he said: + +"Of these you shall judge also." He took from the desk in the adjoining +room the fragmentary story and read it. "This," he said, as he saw the +face of the old man beam with intelligence, "is confirmed as an incident +in the life of Gerald or myself; in fact, the beginning of life." He +gave the history of the fragmentary story and of Rita's confession. + +"By this evidence," he went on, "I was led to believe that the woman +erred in the recognition of her own child; that I am in fact that child +and that Gerald is the son of Marion. This in her last breath she seemed +to deny, for when I begged her to testify upon it, as before her God, +and asked the question direct, she cried out: 'They lied!' In this it +seems to me that her heart went back to its secret belief and that in +the supreme moment she affirmed forever his nativity. Were this all I +confess I would be satisfied, but there is a fatal fact to come!" He +took from his pocket the package prepared for Gen. Evan, and tore from +it the picture of Marion. + +"Now," he exclaimed excitedly, "as between the two of us, how can this +woman be other than the mother of Gerald Morgan? And, if I could be +mistaken as to the resemblance, how could her father fall into my error? +For I swear to you that on the night he bent over the sleeping man he +saw upon the pillow the face of his wife and daughter blended in those +features!" Virdow was looking intently upon the picture. + +"Softly, softly," he said, shaking his head; "it is a true likeness, but +it does not prove anything. Family likeness descends only surely by +profiles. If we could see her profile, but this! There is no reason why +the child of Rita should not resemble another. It would depend upon the +impression, the interest, the circumstances of birth, of associations--" +He paused. "Describe to me again the mind picture which Gerald under the +spell of music sketched--give it exactly." Edward gave it in detail. + +"That," said Virdow, "was the scene flashed upon the woman who gazed +from the arch. It seems impossible for it to have descended to Gerald, +except by one of the two women there--the one to whom the man's back was +turned. Had this mental impression come from the other source it seems +to me he would have seen the face of that man, and if the impression was +vivid enough to descend from mother to child it would have had the +church for a background, in place of the arch, with storm-lashed trees +beyond. This is reasonable only when we suppose it possible that brain +pictures can be transmitted. As a man I am convinced. As a scientist I +say that it is not proved." + +Edward, every nerve strained to its utmost tension, every faculty of +mind engaged, devoured this brief analysis and conclusion. But more +proof was given! Over his face swept a shadow. + +"Poor Gerald! Poor Gerald!" he muttered. But he became conscious +presently that the face of Virdow wore a concerned look; there was +something to come. He could not resist the temptation to clear up the +last vestige of doubt if doubt could remain. + +"Tell me," he said, "what do you require to satisfy you that between the +two I am the son of Marion Evan?" + +"Two things," said Virdow, quickly. "First, proof that Rita was in no +way akin to the Evan family, for if she was in the remotest degree, the +similarity of profiles could be accounted for. Second, that your own and +the profile of Marion Evan were of the same angle. Satisfy me upon these +two points and you have nothing to fear." A feeling of weakness +overwhelmed Edward. The general had not seen in his face any likeness to +impress him. And yet, why his marked interest? The whole subject lay +open again. + +And Marion Evan! Where was he to obtain such proof? + +Virdow saw the struggle in his mind. + +"Leave nothing unturned," said Edward, "that one of us may live free of +doubt, and just now, God help me, it seems my duty to strive for him +first." + +"And these efforts--when--" + +"To-night! Let us descend." + +"We go first to the room of the nurse," said Virdow. "We shall begin +there." + +Edward led the way and with a lighted lamp they entered the room. The +search there was brief and uneventful. On the wall in a simple frame was +a portrait of John Morgan, drawn years before from memory by Gerald. It +was the face of the man known only to the two searchers as Abingdon, but +its presence there might be significant. + +Her furniture and possessions were simple. In her little box of trinkets +were found several envelopes addressed to her from Paris, one of them in +the handwriting of a man, the style of German. All were empty, the +letters having in all probability been destroyed. They, however, +constituted a clew, and Edward placed them in his pocket. In another +envelope was a child's golden curl, tied with a narrow black ribbon; and +there was a drawer full of broken toys. And that was all. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE FACE THAT CAME IN DREAMS. + + +Virdow was not a scientist in the strict sense of the term. He had been +a fairly good musician in youth and had advanced somewhat in art. He was +one of those modern scientists, who are not walled in by past +conclusions, but who, like Morse, leap forward from a vantage point and +build back to connect with old results. Early in life he had studied the +laws of vibration, until it seemed revealed to him that all forms, all +fancies, were born of it. Gradually as his beautiful demonstrations were +made and all art co-ordinated upon this law, he saw in dreams a +fulfillment of his hopes that in his age, in his life, might bloom the +fairest flower of science, a mind memory opened to mortal consciousness. + +Dreaming further along the lines of Wagner, it had come to him that the +key to this hidden, dumb and sleeping record of the mind was vibration; +that the strains of music which summon beautiful dreams to the minds of +men were magic wands lifting the vision of this past; not its immediate +past, but the past of ages; for in the brain of the subtle German was +firmly fixed the belief that the minds of men were in their last +analysis one and indivisible, and older than the molecules of physical +creation. + +He held triumphantly that "then shall you see clearly," was but one way +of saying "then shall you remember." + +To this man the mind picture which Gerald had drawn, the church, with +its tragic figures, came as a reward of generations of labor. He had +followed many a false trail and failed in hospital and asylum. In Gerald +he hoped for a sound, active brain, combined with the faculty of +expression in many languages and the finer power of art; an organism +sufficiently delicate to carry into that viewless vinculum between body +and soul, vibrations, rhymes and co-ordinations delicate enough to touch +a new consciousness and return its reply through organized form. He had +found these conditions perfect, and he felt that if failure was the +result, while still firmly fixed in his belief, never again would +opportunity of equal merit present itself. If in Gerald his theory +failed of demonstration, the mind's past would be, in his lifetime, +locked to his mortal consciousness. In brief he had formed the +conditions so long sought and upon these his life's hope was staked. + +Much of this he stated as they sat in the wing-room. Gerald lay upon the +divan when he began talking, lost in abstraction, but as the theory of +the German was gradually unfolded Edward saw him fix his bright eye upon +the speaker, saw him becoming restless and excited. When the explanation +ended he was walking the floor. + +"Experiments with frogs," he said, abruptly; "accidents to the human +brain and vivisection have proved the separateness of memory and +consciousness. But I shall do better; I shall give to the world a +complete picture descended from parent to child--an inherited brain +picture of which the mind is thoroughly conscious." His listeners waited +in breathless suspense; both knew to what he referred. "But," he added, +shaking his head, "that does not carry us out of the material world." + +His ready knowledge of this subject and its quick grasp of the +proposition astonished Virdow beyond expression. + +"Go on," he said, simply. + +"When that fusion of mind and matter occurs," said Gerald, positively; +"when the consciousness is put in touch with the mind's unconscious +memory there will be no pictures seen, no records read; we shall simply +broaden out, comprehend, understand, grasp, know! That is all! It will +not come to the world, but to individuals, and, lastly, it has already +come! Every so called original thought that dawns upon a human, every +intuitive conception of the truth, marks the point where mind yielded +something of a memory to human consciousness." + +The professor moved uneasily in his seat; both he and Edward were +overwhelmed with the surprise of the demonstration that behind the sad +environment of this being dwelt a keen, logical mind. The speaker paused +and smiled; his attention was not upon his company. + +"So," he said, softly, "come the song into the mind of the poet, so the +harmonies to the singer and so the combination of colors to the artist; +so the rounded periods of oratory and so the conception that makes +invention possible. No facts appear, because facts are the results of +laws, the proofs of truths. The mind-memory carries none of these; it +carries laws and the truth which interprets it all; and when men can +hold their consciousness to the touch of mind without a falling apart, +they will stand upon the plane of their Creator, because they will then +be fully conscious of the eternal laws and in harmony with them." + +"And you," said Virdow, greatly affected, "have you ever felt the union +of consciousness and mind-memory?" + +"Yes," he replied; "what I have said is the truth; for it came from an +inner consciousness without previous determination and intention. I am +right, and you know I am right!" Virdow shook his head. + +"I have hoped," he said, gently, "that in this mind-memory dwelt +pictures. We shall see, we shall see." Gerald turned away impatiently +and threw himself upon his couch. Presently in the silence which ensued +rose the solemn measure of Mendelssohn's heart-beat march from Edward's +violin. The strange, sad, depressing harmony filled the room; even +Virdow felt its wonderful power and sat mute and disturbed. Suddenly he +happened to gaze toward Gerald. He lay with ashen face and rigid eyes +fixed upon the ceiling, to all appearances a corpse. Virdow bounded +forward and snatched the bow from Edward's hand. + +"Stop!" he cried; "for his sake stop, or you will kill him!" + +They dragged the inanimate form to the window and bathed the face. A low +moan escaped the young man, and then a gleam of intelligence came into +his eyes. He tried to speak, but without success; an expression of +surprise and distress came upon his face as he rose to his feet. For a +moment he stood gasping, but presently his breath came normally. + +"Temporary aphasia," he said, in a low tone. Going to the easel he drew +rapidly the picture of a woman kneeling above the prostrate form of +another, and stood contemplating it in silence. Edward and Virdow came +to his side, the latter pale with excitement. Gerald did not notice +them. Only the back of the kneeling woman was shown, but the face of the +other was distinct, calm and beautiful. It was the girl in the small +picture. + +"That face--that face," he whispered. "Alas! I see it only as my +ancestors saw it." He resumed his lounge dejectedly. + +"You have seen it before, then?" said Virdow, earnestly. + +"Before! In my dreams from childhood! It is a face associated with me +always. In the night, when the wind blows, I hear a voice calling +Gerald, and this vision comes. Shall I tell you a secret--" His voice +had become lower and now was inaudible. Placing his hand upon the white +wrist, Virdow said: + +"He sleeps; it is well. Come away, my young friend; I have learned much, +but the experience might have been dearly bought. Sometime I will +explain." Noiselessly they withdrew to Edward's room. Edward was +depressed. + +"You have gained, but not I," he said. "The back of the kneeling woman +was toward him." + +"Wait," said Virdow; "all things cannot be learned in a night. We do not +know who witnessed that scene." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +THE THREE PICTURES. + + +Virdow had arisen and been to town when Edward made his appearance late +in the morning. After tossing on his pillow all night, at daylight he +had fallen into a long, dreamless sleep. + +Gerald was looking on, and the professor was arranging an experimental +apparatus of some kind. He had suspended a metal drum from the arch of +the glass-room by steel wires, and over the upper end of the drum had +drawn tightly a sheet of rubber obtained from a toy balloon +manufacturer. In the base of this drum he inserted a hollow stem of tin, +one end of which was flared like a trumpet. The whole machine when +completed presented the appearance of a gigantic pipe; the mouthpiece +enlarged. When Edward came in the German was spreading upon the rubber +surface of the drum an almost impalpable powder, taken from one of the +iron nodules which lay about on the surrounding hills and slightly +moistened. + +"I have been explaining to Gerald," said Virdow, cheerily, "some of my +bases for hopes that vibration is the medium through which to effect +that ether wherein floats what men call the mind, and am getting ready +to show the co-ordinations of force and increasing steadily and evenly. +Try what you Americans call 'A' in the middle register and remember that +you have before you a detective that will catch your slightest error." +He was closing doors and openings as he spoke. + +Edward obeyed. Placing his mouth near the trumpet opening he began. The +simple note, prolonged, rang out in the silent room, increasing in +strength to a certain point and ending abruptly. Then was seen a +marvelous thing; animated, the composition upon the disk rushed to the +exact center and then tremulously began to take definite shape. A little +medallion appeared, surrounded by minute dots, and from these little +tongues ran outward. The note died away, and only the breathing of the +eager watchers was heard. Before them in bas-relief was a red daisy, as +perfect, aye, more nearly perfect, than art could supply. Gerald after a +moment turned his head and seemed lost in thought. + +"From that we might infer," said Virdow, "that the daisy is the 'A' note +of the world; that of it is born all the daisy class of flowers, from +the sunflower down--all vibrations of a standard." + +Again and again the experiment was repeated, with the same result. + +"Now try 'C,'" said the German, and Edward obeyed. Again the mass rushed +together, but this time it spread into the form of a pansy. And then +with other notes came fern shapes, trees and figures that resembled the +scale armor of fish. And finally, from a softly sounded and prolonged +note, a perfect serpent in coils appeared, with every ring distinctly +marked. This form was varied by repetition to shells and cornucopias. + +So through the musical scale went the experiments, each yielding a new +and distinct form where the notes differed. Virdow enjoyed the wonder of +Edward and the calm concentration of Gerald. He continued: + +"Thus runs the scale in colors; each of the seven--red, orange, yellow, +green, blue, indigo and violet--is a note, and as there are notes in +music that harmonize, so in colors there are the same notes, the hues of +which blend harmoniously. What have they to do with the mind memory? +This: As a certain number of vibrations called to life in music the +shell, in light the color, and in music the note, so once found will +certain notes, or more likely their co-ordinations, awaken the memories +of the mind, since infallibly by vibrations were they first born. + +"This is the border land of speculation, you think, and you are partly +correct. What vibration could have fixed the form of the daisy and the +shape we have found in nature is uncertain, but remember that the earth +swings in a hollow drum of air as resonant and infinitely more sensitive +than rubber; and the brain--there is a philosophic necessity for the +shape of a man's head." + +"If," said Gerald, "you had said these vibrations awakened the memories +of the brain instead of the mind, I could have agreed with you. Yours +are on the order of the London experiments. I am familiar with them, but +only through reading." Again Virdow wondered, but he continued: + +"The powers of vibration are not understood--in fact, only dreamed of. +Only one man in the world, your Keely, has appreciated its +possibilities, and he is involved in the herculean effort to harness it +to modern machinery. It was vibration simply that affected Gerald so +deeply last night; a rhythm co-ordinating with his heart. I have seen +vast audiences--and you have, too, Edward--painfully depressed by that +dangerous experiment of Mendelssohn; for the heart, like a clock, will +seek to adjust itself to rhythms. Your tempo was less than seventy-two +to the minute; Gerald's delicate heart caught time and the brain lacked +blood. A quick march would have sent the blood faster and brought +exhilaration. Under the influence of march time men cheer and do deeds +of valor that they would not otherwise attempt, though the measure is +sounded only upon a drum; but when to this time is added a second, a +third and a fourth rhythm, and the harmonies of tone against tone, color +against color, in perfect co-ordination, they are no longer creatures of +reason, but heroes. The whole matter is subject to scientific +demonstration. + +"But back to this 'heart-beat march.' The whole nerve system of man +since the infancy of the race has been subject to the rhythm of the +heart, every atom of the human body is attuned to it; for while length +of life, breadth of shoulders, chest measure and stature have changed +since the days of Adam we have no evidence that the solemn measure of +the heart, sending its seventy-two waves against all the minute +divisions of the human machine, has ever varied in the normal man. +Lessen it, as on last night, and the result is distressing. And as you +increase it, or substitute for it vibrations more rapid against those +myriad nerves, you exhilarate or intoxicate. + +"But has any one ever sent the vibration into that 'viewless vinculum' +and awakened the hidden mind? As our young friend testifies, yes! There +have been times when these lower co-ordinations of song and melodies +have made by a momentary link mind and matter one, and of these times +are born the world's greatest treasures--jewels wrested from the hills +of eternity! What has been done by chance, science should do by rule." + +Gerald had listened, with an attention not hoped for, but the conclusion +was anticipated in his quick mind. Busy with his portfolio, he did not +attend, but upon the professor's conclusion he turned with a picture in +his hand. It was the drawing of the previous night. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"A mind picture, possibly," said Virdow. + +"You mean by that a picture never impressed upon the brain, but living +within the past experience of the mind?" + +"Exactly." + +"And I say it is simply a brain picture transmitted to me by heredity." + +"I deny nothing; all things are possible. But by whom? One of those +women?" Gerald started violently and looked suspiciously upon his +questioner. Virdow's face betrayed nothing. + +"I do not know," said Gerald; "you have gaps in your theory, and this is +the gap in mine. Neither of these women could have seen this picture; +there must have been a third person." Virdow smiled and nodded his head. + +"And if there was a third person he is my missing witness. From him +comes your vision--a true mind picture." + +"And this?" Gerald drew from the folio a woman's face--the face that +Edward had shown, but idealized and etherealized. "From whom comes +this?" cried the young man with growing excitement. "For I swear to you +that I have never, except in dreams, beheld it, no tongue has described +it! It is mine by memory alone, not plucked from subtle ether by a +wandering mind, but from the walls of memory alone. Tell me." Virdow +shook his head; he was silent for fear of the excitement. Gerald came +and stood by him with the two pictures; his voice was strained and +impassioned, and his tones just audible: + +"The face in this and the sleeper's face in this are the same; if you +were on the stand to answer for a friend's life would you say of me, +this man descends from the kneeling woman?" Virdow looked upon him +unflinchingly. + +"I would answer, as by my belief in God's creation, that by this +testimony you descend from neither, for the brain that held those +pictures could belong to neither woman. One could not hold an +etherealized picture of her own face, nor one a true likeness of her own +back." Gerald replaced the sheets. + +"You have told me what I knew," he said; "and yet--from one of them I am +descended, and the pictures are true!" He took his hat and boat paddle +and left them abruptly. The portfolio stood open. Virdow went to close +it, but there was a third drawing dimly visible. Idly he drew it forth. + +It was the picture of a white seagull and above it was an arch; beyond +were the bending trees of the first picture. Both men studied it +curiously, but with varying emotions. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +"HOME SWEET HOME." + + +Edward approached the hall that afternoon with misgivings. A charge had +been brought against him, denied, and the denial defended with his life; +but the charge was not disproved. And in this was the defect of the +"code of honor." It died not because of its bloodiness but of +inadequacy. A correct aim could not be a satisfactory substitute for +good character nor good morals. + +Was it his duty to furnish proof to his title to the name of gentleman? +Or could he afford to look the world in the face with disdain and hold +himself above suspicion? The latter course was really his only choice. +He had no proofs. + +This would do for the world at large, but among intimates would it +suffice? He knew that nowhere in the world is the hearthstone more +sacred than in the south, and how long would his welcome last, even at +The Hall, with his past unexplained? He would see! The first hesitancy +of host or hostess, and he would be self-banished! + +There was really no reason why he should remain in America; agents could +transact what little business was his and look after Gerald's affairs. +Nothing had changed within him; he was the same Edward Morgan, with the +same capacities for enjoyment. + +But something had changed. He felt it with the mere thought of absence. +What was it? As in answer to his mental question, there came behind him +the quick breath of a horse and turning he beheld Mary. She smiled in +response to his bow. The next instant he had descended from his buggy +and was waiting. + +"May I ride with you?" Again the face of the girl lighted with pleasure. + +"Of course. Get down, Jerry, and change places with Mr. Morgan." Jerry +made haste to obey. "Now, drop behind," she said to him, as Edward +seated himself by her side. + +"You see I have accepted your invitation," he began, "only I did not +come as soon as I wished to, or I would have answered your kind note at +once in person. All are well, I trust?" Her face clouded. + +"No. Mamma has become entirely blind--probably for all time. I have just +been to telegraph Dr. Campbell to come to us. We will know to-morrow." +He was greatly distressed. + +"My visit is inopportune--I will turn back. No, I was going from The +Hall to the general's; I can keep straight on." + +"Indeed, you shall not, Mr. Morgan. Mamma is bearing up bravely, and you +can help so much to divert her mind if you tell her of your travels." He +assented readily. It was a novel sensation to find himself useful. + +"To-morrow morning," she continued, "perhaps I can find time to go to +the general's--if you really want to go--" + +"I do," he said. "My German friend, Virdow, has a theory he wishes to +demonstrate and has asked me to find the dominate tones in a waterfall; +I remembered the general's little cascade, and owing him a visit am +going to discharge both duties. What a grand old man the general is!" + +"Oh, indeed, yes. You do not know him, Mr. Morgan. If you could have +seen how he entered into your quarrel--" she blushed and hesitated. "Oh, +what an outrage was that affair!" + +"It is past, Miss Montjoy; think no more upon it. It was I who cost your +father his seat in Congress. That is the lamentable feature." + +"That is nothing," said the young girl, "compared with the mortification +and peril forced upon you. But you had friends--more than you dreamed +of. The general says that the form of your note to Mr. Royson saved you +a grave complication." + +"You mean that I am indebted to Mr. Barksdale for that?" + +"Yes. I love Mr. Barksdale; he is so manly and noble." Edward smiled +upon her; he was not jealous of that kind of love. + +"He is certainly a fine character--the best product of the new south, I +take it. I have neglected to thank him for his good offices. I shall +call upon him when I return." + +"And," she said in a low tone, "of course you will assure the general of +your gratitude to-morrow. You owe him more than you suspect. I would not +have you fail there." + +"And why would you dislike to have me fail?" She blushed furiously when +she realized how she had become involved, but she met his questioning +gaze bravely. + +"You forget that I introduced you as my friend, and one does not like +for friends to show up in a bad light." + +He fell into moody silence, from which with difficulty only he could +bring himself to reply to questions as she led the way from personal +grounds. The Hall saved him from absolute disgrace. + +In the darkened sitting-room was Mrs. Montjoy when the girl and the +young man entered. She lifted her bandaged eyes to the door as she heard +their voices in the hall. + +"Mamma, here is Mr. Morgan," said Mary. The family had instinctively +agreed upon a cheerful tone; the great oculist was coming; it was but a +question of time when blessed sight would return again. The colonel +raised himself from the lounge where he had been dozing and came +forward. Edward could not detect in his grave courtesy the slightest +deviation of manner. He welcomed him smilingly and inquired of Gerald. +And then, continuing into the room, the young man took the soft hand of +the elder woman. She placed the other on his and said with that singular +disregard of words peculiar to the blind: + +"I am glad to see you Mr. Morgan. We have been so distressed about you. +I spent a wretched day and night thinking of your worry and danger." + +"They are all over now, madam; but it is pleasant to know that my +friends were holding me up all the time. Naturally I was somewhat +lonesome," he said, forcing a smile, "until the general came to my +rescue." Then recollecting himself, he added: "But those hours were as +nothing to this, madam. You cannot understand how distressed I was to +learn, as I have just now, of your illness." She patted his hand +affectionately, after the manner of old ladies. + +"Oh, yes, I can. Mary has told us of your offer to take us to Paris on +that account. I am sure sometimes that one's misfortunes fall heaviest +upon friends." + +"It is not too late," he said, earnestly. "If the colonel will keep +house and trust you with me, it is not too late. Really, I am almost +obliged to visit Paris soon, and if--" he turned to the colonel at a +loss for words. That gentleman had passed his hand over his forehead and +was looking away. + +"You are more than kind, my young friend," he said, sadly: "more than +kind. We will see Campbell. If it is necessary Mrs. Montjoy will go to +Paris." + +Mary had been a silent witness of the little scene. She turned away to +hide her emotion, fearful that her voice, if she spoke, would betray +her. The Duchess came in and climbed to grandma's lap and wound her arms +around the little woman. The colonel had resumed his seat when Mary +brought in from the hall the precious violin and laid it upon the piano, +waiting there until the conversation lagged. + +"Mamma," she said, then, "Mr. Morgan has his violin; he was on his way +through here to the general's when I intercepted him. I know you can +rely upon him to play for us." + +"As much and as often as desired," said Edward heartily. "I have a +friend at home, an old professor with whom I studied in Germany, who is +engaged in some experiments with vibration, and he has assigned me +rather a novel task--that is, I am to go over to the general's and +determine the tone of a waterfall, for everything has its tone--your +window glass, your walking stick, even--and these will respond to the +vibrations which make that tone. Young memories are born of vibration, +and old airs bring back old thoughts." He arose and took the violin as +he talked. + +If the presence of the silent sufferer was not sufficient to touch his +heart, there were the brown, smiling eyes of the girl whose fingers met +his as he took the instrument. He played as never before. Something went +from him into the ripe, resonant instrument, something that even Virdow +could not have explained, and through the simple melodies he chose, +affected his hearers deeply. Was it the loneliness of the man speaking +to the loneliness of the silent woman, whose bandaged forehead rested +upon one blue-veined hand? Or was it a new spring opened up by the +breath, the floating hair, the smooth contour of cheeks, the melting +depths of brown eyes, the divine sympathy of the girl who played his +accompaniments? + +All the old music of the blind woman's girlhood had been carefully bound +and preserved, as should all old music be when it has become a part of +our lives; and as this man with his subtle power awoke upon that +marvelous instrument the older melodies he gave life to the dreams of +her girlish heart. Just so had she played them--if not so true, yet +feelingly. By her side had stood a gallant black-haired youth, looking +down into her face, reading more in her upturned eyes than her tongue +had ever uttered; eyes then liquid and dark with the light of love +beaming from their depths; alas, to beam now no more forever! Love must +find another speech. She reached out her hand and in eloquent silence it +was taken. + +Silence drew them all back to earth. But behind the players, an old +man's face was bent upon the smooth soft hand of the woman, and eyes +that must some day see for both of them, left their tender tribute. + +Edward Morgan linked himself to others in that hour with strands +stronger than steel. Even the little Duchess felt the charm and power of +that violin in the hands of the artist. Wondering, she came to him and +stretched up her little hands. He took her upon his knee then, and, +holding the instrument under her chin and her hands in his, awoke a +little lullaby that had impressed him. As he sang the words, the girl +smiled into the faces of the company. + +"Look, gamma," she said gleefully; "look!" And she, lifting her face, +said gently: + +"Yes, dear; gamma is looking." Mary's face was quickly averted; the +hands of the colonel tightened upon the hand he held. + +The Duchess had learned to sing "Rockaby Baby" and now she lifted her +thin, piping voice, the player readily following, and sang sweetly all +the verses she could remember. Mary took her in her arms when tired, and +Edward let the strains run on slower and softer. The eyes of the little +one drooped wearily, and then as the player, his gaze fixed upon the +little scene, drifted away into "Home, Sweet Home," they closed in +sleep. The blind woman still sat with her hand in her husband's, his +head bent forward until his forehead rested upon it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE RAINBOW IN THE MIST. + + +Mary had lighted his room and handed him the lamp; "sweet sleep and +pleasant dreams," she had said, gravely bowing to him as she withdrew--a +family custom, as he had afterward learned. But the sleep was not sweet +nor the dreams pleasant. Excited and disturbed he dozed away the hours +and was glad when the plantation bell rang its early summons. He dressed +and made his way to the veranda, whence he wandered over the flower +garden, intercepting the colonel, who was about to take his morning look +about. Courteously leaving his horse at the gate that gentleman went on +foot with him. It was Edward's first experience on a plantation and he +viewed with lively interest the beginning of the day's labor. Cotton was +opening and numbers of negroes, old and young, were assembling with +baskets and sacks or moving out with a show of industry, for, as it was +explained to him, it is easy to get them early started in cotton-picking +time, as the work is done by the hundred pounds and the morning dew +counts for a great deal. "Many people deduct for that," said Montjoy, +"but I prefer not to. Lazy and trifling as he is, the negro is but +poorly paid." + +"But," said Edward, laughing, "you do not sell the dew, I suppose?" + +"No. Generally it evaporates, but if it does not the warehouse deducts +for it." + +"I noticed at one place on the way south that the people were using +wheel implements, do you not find them profitable?" The colonel pointed +to a shed under which were a number of cultivators, revolving plows, +mowing machines and a dirt turner. "I do not, the negro cannot keep +awake on the cultivator and the points get into the furrows and so throw +out the cotton and corn that they were supposed to cultivate. Somehow +they never could learn to use the levers at the right place, with the +revolving plow, and they wear its axle off. They did no better with the +mower; they seemed to have an idea that it would cut anything from +blades of grass up to a pine stump, and it wouldn't." + +"The disk harrow," he continued laughingly, "was broken in a curious +way. I sent a hand out to harrow in some peas. He rode along all right +to the field and then deliberately wedged the disks to keep them from +revolving, not understanding the principle. I sometimes think that they +are a little jealous of these machines and do not want them to work +well." + +"You seem to have a great many old negroes." + +"Too many; too many," he said, sadly; "but what can be done? These +people have been with me all my life and I can't turn them adrift in +their old age. And the men seem bent upon keeping married," he added, +good-naturedly. "When the old wives die they get new and young ones, and +then comes extravagant living again." + +"And you have them all to support?" + +"Of course. The men do a little chopping and cotton-picking, but not +enough to pay for the living of themselves and families. What is it, +Nancy?" + +"Pa says please send him some meal and meat. He ain't had er mouthful in +four days." The speaker was a little negro girl. "Go, see your young +mistress. That is a specimen," said the old gentleman, half-laughing, +half-frowning. "Four days! He would have been dead the second! Our +system does not suit the new order of things. It seems to me the main +trouble is in the currency. Our values have all been upset by +legislation. Silver ought never have been demonetized; it was fatal, +sir. And then the tariff." + +"Is not overproduction a factor, Colonel? I read that your last crops of +cotton were enormous." + +"Possibly so, but the world has to have cotton, and an organization +would make it buy at our own prices. There are enormous variations, of +course, we can't figure in advance, and whenever a low price rules, the +country is broke. The result is the loan associations and cotton factors +are about to own us." + +The two men returned to find Mary with the pigeons upon her shoulders +and a flock of poultry begging at her feet. + +"You are going with me to the general's," he said, pleadingly, as he +stood by her. She shook her head. + +"I suppose not this time; mamma needs me." But at the breakfast table, +when he renewed the subject, that lady from her little side table said +promptly: "Yes." Mary needed the exercise and diversion, and then there +was a little mending to be done for the old general. He always saved it +for her. It was his whim. + +So they started in Edward's buggy, riding in silence until he said +abruptly: + +"I am persevering, Miss Montjoy, as you will some day find out, and I am +counting upon your help." + +"In what?" She was puzzled by his manner. + +"In getting Moreau in Paris to look into the little mamma's eyes." She +reflected a moment. + +"But Dr. Campbell is coming." + +"It is through him I going to accomplish my purpose; he must send her to +Paris." + +"But," she said, sadly, "we can't afford it. Norton could arrange it, +but papa would not be willing to incur such a debt for him." + +"His son--her son!" Edward showed his surprise very plainly. + +"You do not understand. Norton has a family; neither papa nor mamma +would borrow from him, although he would be glad to do anything in the +world he could. And there is Annie----" she stopped. Edward saw the +difficulty. + +"Would your father accept a loan from me?" She flushed painfully. + +"I think not, Mr. Morgan. He could hardly borrow money of his guest." + +"But I will not be his guest, and it will be a simple business +transaction. Will you help me?" She was silent. + +"It is very hard, very hard," she said, and tears stood in her eyes. +"Hard to have mamma's chances hang upon such a necessity." + +"Supposing I go to your father and say: 'This thing is necessary and +must be done. I have money to invest at 5 per cent. and am going to +Paris. If you will secure me with a mortgage upon this place for the +necessary amount I will pay all expenses and take charge of your wife +and daughter.' Would it offend him?" + +"He could not be offended by such generosity, but it would distress +him--the necessity." + +"That should not count in the matter," he said, gravely. "He is already +distressed. And what is all this to a woman's eyesight?" + +"How am I to help?" she asked after a while. + +"The objection will be chiefly upon your account, I am afraid," he said, +after reflection. "You will have to waive everything and second my +efforts. That will settle it." She did not promise, but seemed lost in +thought. When she spoke again it was upon other things. + +"Ah, truant!" cried the general, seeing her ascending the steps and +coming forward, "here you are at last. How are you, Morgan? Sit down, +both of you. Mary," he said, looking at her sternly, "if you neglect me +this way again I shall go off and marry a grass widow. Do you hear me, +miss? Look at this collar." He pointed dramatically to the offending +article; one of the Byronic affairs, to which the old south clings +affectionately, and which as affectionately clings to the garment it is +supposed to adorn, since it is a part of it. "I have buttoned that not +less than a dozen times to-day." She laughed and, going in, presently +returned with thread and needle and sitting upon his knee restored the +buttonhole to its proper size. Then she surveyed him a moment. + +"Why haven't you been over to see us?" + +"Because----" + +"You will have to give the grass widow a better excuse than that. 'Tis a +woman's answer. But here is Mr. Morgan, come to see if he can catch the +tune your waterfall plays--if you have no objection." Edward explained +the situation. + +"Go with him, Mary. I think the waterfall plays a better tune to a man +when there is a pretty girl around." She playfully stopped his mouth and +then darted into the house. + +"General," said Edward, earnestly, "I have not written to you. I +preferred to come in person to express anew my thanks and appreciation +of your kindness in my recent trial. The time may come--" + +"Nonsense, my boy; we take these things for granted here in the south. +If you are indebted to anybody it is to the messenger who brought me the +news of your predicament, put me on horseback and sent me hurrying off +in the night to town for the first time in twenty years." + +"And who could have done that?" Edward asked, overwhelmed with emotion. +"From whom?" + +"From nobody. She summed up the situation, got behind the little mare +and came over here in the night. Morgan, that is the rarest girl in +Georgia. Take care, sir; take care, sir." He was getting himself +indignant over some contingency when the object of his eulogium +appeared. + +"Now, General, you are telling tales on me." + +"Am I? Ask Morgan. I'd swear on a stack of Bibles as high as yonder pine +I have not mentioned your name." + +"Well, it is a wonder. Come on, Mr. Morgan." + +The old man watched them as they picked their way through the hedge and +concluded his interrupted remark: "If you break that loyal heart--if you +bring a tear to those brown eyes, you will meet a different man from +Royson." But he drove the thought away while he looked affectionately +after the pair. + +Down came the little stream, with an emphasis and noise disproportioned +to its size, the cause being, as Edward guessed, the distance of the +fall and the fact that the rock on which it struck was not a solid +foundation, but rested above a cavity. Mary waited while he listened, +turning away to pluck a flower and to catch in the falling mist the +colors of the rainbow. But as Edward stood, over him came a flood of +thoughts; for the air was full of a weird melody, the overtone of one +great chord that thrilled him to the heart. As in a dream he saw her +standing there, the blue skies and towering trees above her, a bit of +light in a desert of solitude. Near, but separated from him by an +infinite gulf. "Forever! Forever!" all else was blotted out. + +She saw on his face the white desperation she had noticed once before. + +"You have found it," she said. "What is the tone?" + +"Despair," he answered, sadly. "It can mean nothing else." + +"And yet," she said, a new thought animating her mobile face, as she +pointed into the mist above, "over it hangs the rainbow." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE HAND OF SCIENCE. + + +A feeling of apprehension and solemnity pervaded the hall when at last +the old family coach deposited its single occupant, Dr. Campbell, at the +gate. The colonel stood at the top of the steps to welcome him. Edward +and Mary were waiting in the sitting-room. + +The famous practitioner, a tall, shapely figure, entered, and as he +removed his glasses he brought sunshine into the room, with his cheery +voice and confident manner. To Mrs. Montjoy he said: + +"I came as soon as the telegram was received. Anxiety and loss of rest +in cases like yours are exceedingly undesirable. It is better to be +informed--even of the worst. Before we discuss this matter, come to the +window and let me examine the eye, please." He was assisting her as he +spoke. He carefully studied the condition of the now inflamed and +sightless organ, and then replaced the bandage. + +"It is glaucoma," he said, briefly. "You will remember that I feared it +when we fitted the glasses some years ago. The slowness of its advance +is due to the care you have taken. If you are willing I would prefer to +operate at once." All were waiting in painful silence. The brave woman +replied: "Whenever you are ready I am," and resumed her knitting. He had +been deliberate in every word and action, but the occasion was already +robbed of its terrors, so potent are confidence, decision and action. +Edward was introduced and would have taken his leave, but the oculist +detained him. + +"I shall probably need you," he said, "and will be obliged if you +remain. The operation is very simple." + +The room was soon prepared; a window was thrown open, a lounge drawn +under it and bandages prepared. Mary, pale with emotion, when the +slender form of her mother was stretched upon the lounge hurriedly +withdrew. The colonel seated himself and turned away his face. There was +no chloroform, no lecture. With the simplicity of of a child at play, +the great man went to work. Turning up the eyelid, he dropped upon the +cornea a little cocaine, and selecting a minute scalpel from his case, +with two swift, even motions cut downward from the center of the eye and +then from the same starting point at right angles. The incisions +extended no deeper than the transparent epidermis of the organ. +Skillfully turning up the angle of this, he exposed a thin, white +growth--a minute cloud it seemed to Edward. + +"Another drop of cocaine, please," the pleasant voice of the oculist +recalled him, and upon the exposed point he let fall from the dropper +the liquid. Lifting the little cloud with keen pinchers, the operator +removed it, restored the thin epidermis to its place, touched it again +with cocaine, and replaced the bandage. The strain of long hours was +ended; he had not been in the house thirty minutes. + +"I felt but the scratch of a needle," said the patient; "it is indeed +ended?" + +"All over," he said, cheerfully. He then wrote out a prescription and +directions for dressing, to be given to the family physician. Mary was +already by her mother's side, holding and patting her hand. + +The famous man was an old friend of the family, and now entered into a +cheerful discussion of former times and mutual acquaintances. The little +boy had entered, and somehow had got into his lap, where all children +usually got who came under his spell. While talking on other subjects he +turned down the little fellow's lids. + +"I see granulation here, colonel. Attend to it at once. I will leave a +prescription." And then with a few words of encouragement, he went off +to the porch to smoke. + +After dinner the conversation came back to the patient. + +"She will regain her vision this time," said Dr. Campbell, "but the +disease can only be arrested; it will return. The next time it will do +no good to operate. It is better to know these things and prepare for +them." The silence was broken by Edward. + +"Are you so sure of this, doctor, that you would advise against further +consultation? In Paris, for instance, is Moreau. In your opinion, is +there the slightest grounds for his disagreeing with you?" + +"In my opinion, no. But my opinion never extends to the point of +neglecting any means open to us. Were I afflicted with this disease I +would consult everybody within reach who had had experience." Edward +glanced in triumph at Mary. Dr. Campbell continued: + +"I would be very glad if it were possible for Mrs. Montjoy to see Moreau +about the left eye. You will remember that I expressed a doubt as to the +hopelessness of restoring that one when it was lost. It was not affected +with glaucoma; there is a bare possibility that something might be done +for it with success. If the disease returns upon the right eye, the +question of operating upon the other might then come up again." Edward +waited a moment and then continued his questions: + +"Do you not think a sea voyage would be beneficial, doctor?" + +"Undoubtedly, if she is protected from the glare and dust while ashore. +We can only look to building up her general health now." Edward turned +away, with throbbing pulses. + +"But," continued the doctor, "of course nothing of this sort should be +attempted until the eye is perfectly well again; say in ten days or two +weeks." Mary sat with bowed head. She did not see why Dr. Campbell arose +presently and walked to where Edward was standing. She looked upon them +there. Edward was talking with eager face and the other studying him +through his glasses. But somehow she connected his parting words with +that short interview. + +"And about the sea voyage and Moreau, colonel; I do not know that I +ought to advise you, but I shall be glad if you find it convenient to +arrange that, and will look to you to have Moreau send me a written +report. Good-bye." But Edward stopped him. + +"I am going back directly, doctor, and can take you and the carriage +need not return again. I will keep you waiting a few moments only." He +drew Col. Montjoy aside and they walked to the rear veranda. + +"Colonel," he said, earnestly, "I want to make you an offer, and I do it +with hesitancy only because I am afraid you cannot understand me +thoroughly upon such short acquaintance. I believe firmly in this trip +and want you to let me help you bring it about. Without having +interested myself in your affairs, I am assured that you stand upon the +footing of the majority of southerners whose fortunes were staked upon +the Confederacy, and that just now it would inconvenience you greatly to +meet the expense of this experience. I want you to let me take the place +of John Morgan and do just as he would have done in this +situation--advance you the necessary money upon your own terms." As he +entered upon the subject the old gentleman looked away from him, and as +he proceeded Edward could see that he was deeply affected. He extended +his hand impulsively to the young man at last and shook it warmly. Tears +had gathered in his eyes. Edward continued: + +"I appreciate what you would say, Colonel; you think it too much for a +comparative stranger to offer, or for you to accept, but the matter is +not one of your choosing. The fortunes of war have brought about the +difficulty, and that is all. You have risked your all on that issue and +have lost. You cannot risk the welfare of your wife upon an issue of +pride. You must accept. Go to Gen. Evan, he will tell you so." + +"I cannot consider the offer, my young friend, in any other than a +business way. Your generosity has already put us under obligations we +can never pay and has only brought you mortification." + +"Not so," was the reply. "In your house I have known the first home +feeling I ever experienced. Colonel, don't oppose me in this. If you +wish to call it business, give it that term." + +"Yours will be the fourth mortgage on this place; I hesitate to offer +it. The hall is already pledged for $15,000." + +"It is amply sufficient." + +"I will consider the matter, Mr. Morgan," he said after a long silence. +"I will consider it and consult Evan. I do not see my way clear to +accept your offer, but whether or not, my young friend"--putting his arm +over the other's shoulder, his voice trembling--"whether I do or not you +have in making it done me an honor and a favor that I will remember for +life. It is worth something to meet a man now and then who is worthy to +have lived in nobler times. God bless you--and now you must excuse me." +He turned away abruptly. Thrilled by his tone and words, Edward went to +the front. As he shook hands with Mary he said: + +"I cannot tell yet. But he cannot refuse. There is no escape for him." + +At the depot in the city the doctor said: "Do not count too hopefully +upon Paris, my young friend. There is a chance, but in my opinion the +greatest good that can be achieved is for the patient to store in memory +scenes upon which in other days she may dwell with pleasure. Keep this +in mind and be governed accordingly." He climbed aboard the train and +waved adieu. + +Edward was leaving the depot when he overtook Barksdale. Putting his +buggy in the care of a boy, he walked on with the railroader at his +request to the club. Barksdale took him into a private room and over a +choice cigar Edward gave him all the particulars of the duel and then +expressed his grateful acknowledgments for the friendly services +rendered him. + +"I am assured by Gen. Evan," he said, "that had my demand been made in a +different form I might have been seriously embarrassed." + +"Royson depended upon the Montjoys to get him out of the affair; he had +no idea of fighting." + +"But how could the Montjoys have helped him?" + +"They could have appealed to him to withdraw the charges he had made, +and he would have done so because the information came really from a +member of the Montjoy family. I do not think you will need to ask her +name. I mention it to you because you should be informed." Edward +comprehended his meaning at once. Greatly agitated, he exclaimed: + +"But what object could she have had in putting out such slander? I do +not know her nor she me." Barksdale waved his hand deprecatingly: + +"You do not know much of women." + +"No. I have certainly not met this kind before." + +Barksdale reflected a few moments, and then said, slowly: "Slander is a +curious thing, Mr. Morgan. People who do not believe it will repeat it. +I think if I were you I would clear up all these matters by submitting +to an interview with a reporter. In that you can place your own and +family history before the public and end all talk." Edward was pale, but +this was the suggestion that he had considered more than once. He shook +his head quickly. + +"I disagree with you. I think it beneath the dignity of a gentleman to +answer slander by the publication of his family history. If the people +of this city require such statements from those who come among them, +then I shall sell out my interest here and go abroad, where I am known. +This I am, however, loath to do; I have a few warm friends here." +Barksdale extended his hand. + +"You will, I hope, count me among them. I spoke only from a desire to +see you fairly treated." + +"I have reason to number you among them. I am going to Paris shortly, I +think, with Mrs. Montjoy. Her eyesight is failing. I will be glad to see +you again before then." + +"With Mrs. Montjoy?" exclaimed Barksdale. + +"Yes; the matter is not entirely settled yet, but I do not doubt that +she will make the trip. Miss Montjoy will go with us." + +Barksdale did not lift his eyes, but was silent, his hand toying with +his glass. + +"I will probably call upon you before your departure," he said, as he +arose. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +THE FLASHLIGHT PHOTOGRAPH. + + +Twilight was deepening over the hills and already the valleys were in +shadow when Edward reached Ilexhurst. He stood for a moment looking back +on the city and the hills beyond. He seemed to be laying aside a sweeter +life for something less fair, and the old weight descended upon him. +After all was it wise to go forth, when the return to the solitude of a +clouded life was inevitable? There was no escape from fate. + +In the east the hills were darkening, but memory flashed on him a +scene--a fair-faced girl, as he had seen her, as he would always see +her, floating upon an amethyst stream, smiling upon him, one hand +parting the waters and over them the wonders of a southern sunset. + +In the wing-room Virdow and Gerald were getting ready for an experiment +with flashlight photography. Refusing to be hurried in his scientific +investigations, Gerald had insisted that until it had been proven that a +living substance could hold a photographic imprint he should not advance +to the consideration of Virdow's theory. There must be brain pictures +before there could be mind pictures. At least, so he reasoned. None of +them knew exactly what his experiment was to be, except that he was +going to test the substance that envelopes the body of the bass, the +micopterus salmoides of southern waters. That sensitive plate, thinner +than art could make it, was not only spoiled by exposure to light, but +by light and air combined was absolutely destroyed. And the difficulty +of controlling the movements of this fish seemed absolutely insuperable. +They could only watch the experimenter. + +Into a thin glass jar Gerald poured a quantity of powder, which he had +carefully compounded during the day. Virdow saw in it the silvery +glimmer of magnesium. What the combined element was could not be +determined. This compound reached only a third of the distance up the +side of the glass. The jar was then stopped with cork pierced by a +copper wire that touched the powder, and hermetically sealed with wax. +With this under one arm, and a small galvanic battery under the other, +and restless with suppressed excitement, Gerald, pointing to a small +hooded lantern, whose powerful reflector was lighting one end of the +room, bade them follow him. + +Virdow and Edward obeyed. With a rapid stride Gerald set out across +fields, through strips of woodlands and down precipitous slopes until +they stood all breathless upon the shore of the little lake. There they +found the flat-bottom bateau, and although by this time both Edward and +Virdow had begun seriously to doubt the wisdom of blindly following such +a character, they resigned themselves to fate and entered. + +Gerald propelled the little craft carefully to a stump that stood up +distinct against the gloom under the searchlight in the bow, and +reaching it took out his pocket compass. Turning the boat's head +north-east, he followed the course about forty yards until at the left +the reflector showed him two stakes in line. Here he brought the little +craft to a standstill, and in silence, which he invoked by lifting his +hand warningly, turned the lantern downward over the stern of the boat, +and with a tube, whose lower end was stubbed with a bit of glass and +inserted in the water, examined the bottom of the lake twelve feet +below. Long and patient was the search, but at last the others saw him +lay aside his glass and let the boat drift a few moments. Then very +gently, only a ripple of the surface marking the action, he lowered the +weighted jar until the slackening wire indicated that it was upon the +bottom. He reached out his hand quickly and drew the battery to him, +firmly grasping the cross-handle lever. The next instant there was a +rumbling, roaring sound, accompanied by a fierce, white light, and the +end of the boat was in the air. In a brief moment Edward saw the slender +form of the enthusiast bathed in the flash, his face as white as chalk, +his eyes afire with excitement--the incarnation of insanity, it seemed +to him. Then there was a deluge of spray, a violent rocking of the boat +and the water in it went over their shoe-tops. Instantly all was inky +blackness, except where in the hands of the fearless man in the stern +the lantern, its slide changed, was now casting a stream of red light +upon the surface of the lake. Suddenly Gerald uttered a loud cry. + +"Look! Look! There he is!" And floating in that crimson path, with small +fishes rising around him, was the dead body of a gigantic bass. Lifting +him carefully by the gills, Gerald laid him in a box drawn from under +the rear seat. + +"What is it?" broke from Virdow. "We have risked our lives and ruined +our clothes--for what?" + +"For a photograph upon a living substance! On the side of this fish, +which was exposed to the flashlight, you will find the outlines of the +grasses in this lake, or the whole film destroyed. If the outlines are +there then there is no reason why the human brain, infinitely more +sensitive and forever excluded from light, cannot contain the pictures +of those twin cameras--the human eyes." He turned the boat shoreward and +seizing his box disappeared in the darkness, his enlarged pupils giving +him the visual powers of a night animal. Virdow and Edward, even aided +by the lantern, found their way back with difficulty. + +The two men entered the wing-room to find it vacant. Virdow, however, +pointed silently to the red light gleaming through the glass of the +little door to the cabinet. The sound of trickling water was heard. + +At that instant a smothered half-human cry came from within, and +trembling violently, Gerald staggered into the room. They took hold of +him, fearing he would fall. Straining their eyes, they both saw for an +instant only the half-developed outlines of a human profile extended +along the broad side of the fish. As they watched, the surface grew into +one tone and the carcass fell to the floor. + +Gazing into their faces as he struggled for freedom, Gerald cast off +their hands. The lithe, sinewy form seemed to be imbued at the moment +with the strength of a giant. Before they could speak he had seized the +lantern and was out into the night. Without a moment's hesitation, +Edward, bareheaded, plunged after him. Well trained to college athletics +though he was, yet unfamiliar with the grounds, it taxed his best +efforts to keep him in sight. He divined that the wild race would end at +the lake, and the thought that on a few seconds might hang the life of +that strange being was all that held him to the prolonged and dangerous +strain. He reached the shore just in time, by plunging waist deep into +the water, to throw himself into the boat. His own momentum thrust it +far out upon the surface. Gerald had entered. + +With unerring skill and incredible swiftness, the young man carried the +boat over its former course and turned the glare of the lamp downward. +Suddenly he uttered a loud cry, and, dropping the lantern in the boat, +stood up and leaped into the water. The light was now out and all was as +black as midnight. + +Edward slipped off his shoes, seized the paddle and waited for a sound +to guide him. It seemed as though nothing human could survive that +prolonged submergence; minutes appeared to pass; with a groan of despair +he gave up hope. + +But at that moment, with a gasp, the white face of Gerald burst from the +waters ten feet away, and the efforts he made showed that he was +swimming with difficulty. With one mighty stroke Edward sent the boat to +the swimmer and caught the floating hair. Then with great difficulty he +drew him over the side. + +"Home!" The word escaped from Gerald between his gasps, but when he +reached the shore, with a return of energy and a total disregard of his +companion, he plunged into the darkness toward the house, Edward this +time keeping him in view with less difficulty. + +They reached the door of the wing-room almost simultaneously and rushed +in side by side, Gerald dripping with water and exhausted. He leaned +heavily against the table. For the first time Edward was conscious that +he carried a burden in his arms. In breathless silence, he with Virdow +approached, and then upon the table Gerald placed an object and drew +shuddering back. It was a half life-size bust of darkened and discolored +marble, and for them, though trembling with excitement, it seemed to +have no especial significance until they were startled by a cry so loud, +so piercing, so heartrending, that they felt the flesh creep upon their +bones. + +Looking from the marble to the face of the young man they saw that the +whiteness of death was upon every feature. Following the direction of +his gaze, they beheld a silhouette upon the wall; the clear-cut profile +of a woman, cast by the carved face before them. To Edward it was an +outline vaguely familiar; to Virdow a revelation, for it was Edward's +own profile. Had the latter recognized it there would have been a +tragedy, for, without a word after that strange, sad, despairing cry, +Gerald wrenched a dagger from the decorated panel, and struck at his own +heart. It was Edward's quickness that saved him; the blade made but a +trifling flesh wound. Seizing him as he did from the rear he was enabled +to disturb his equilibrium in time. + +"Morphine," he said to Virdow. The latter hurried away to secure the +drug. He found with the pellets a little pocket case containing morphine +powders and a hypodermic injector. Without a struggle, Gerald lay +breathing heavily. In a few minutes the drug was administered, and then +came peace for the sufferer. Edward released his hold and looked about +him. Virdow had moved the bust and was seated lost in thought. + +"What does it mean?" he asked, approaching, awed and saddened by his +experience. Virdow held up the little bust. + +"Have you ever seen that face before?" + +"It is the face of the young woman in the picture!" + +"And now," said Virdow, again placing the marble so as to cast its +outlines upon the wall, "you do not recognize it, but the profile is +your own!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE TRADE WITH SLIPPERY DICK. + + +Amos Royson, in the solitude of his room, had full time for reflection +upon the events of the week and upon his position. His face, always +sinister, had not improved under its contact with the heavy dueling +pistol driven so savagely against it. The front teeth would be replaced +and the defect concealed under the heavy mustache he wore, and the cut +and swollen lips were resuming their normal condition. The missing +finger, even, would inconvenience him only until he had trained the +middle one to discharge its duties--but the nose! He trembled with rage +when for the hundredth time he studied his face in the glass and +realized that the best skill of the surgeon had not been able to restore +its lines. + +But this was not the worst. He had carefully scanned the state press +during his seclusion and awoke from his personal estimate to find that +public opinion was overwhelmingly against him. He had slandered a man +for political purposes and forced a fight upon a stranger to whom, by +every right of hospitality, the city owed a welcome. The general public +could not understand why he had entered upon the duel if his charges +were true, and if not true why he had not had the manliness to withdraw +them. + +Moreover, he had incurred the deadly enmity of the people who had been +deceived in the lost county. One paper alluded to the unpleasant fact +that Edward Morgan was defending and aiding Mr. Royson's connections at +the time of the insult. + +He had heard no word from Swearingen, who evidently felt that the matter +was too hot at both ends for him to handle safely. That gentleman had, +on the contrary, in a brief card to one of the papers, disclaimed any +knowledge of the unfortunate letter and declined all responsibility for +it. This was sufficient, it would seem, to render almost any man +unhappy, but the climax was reached when he received a letter from +Annie, scoring him unmercifully for his clumsiness and informing him +that Edward Morgan, so far from being destroyed in a certain quarter, +was being received in the house as a friend to whom all were indebted, +and was petted and made much of. + +"So far as I can judge," she added, maliciously, "it seems settled that +Mary is to marry him. He is much with Col. Montjoy and is now upon a +confidential footing with everyone here. Practically he is already a +member of the family." It contained a request for him to inform her when +he would be in his office. + +He had not replied to this; he felt that the letter was aimed at his +peace of mind and the only satisfaction he could get out of this affair +was the recollection that he had informed her father-in-law of her +perfidy. + +"I would be glad to see the old gentleman's mind at work with Annie +purring around him," he said to himself, and the idea brought the first +smile his face had known for many a day. But a glimpse of that face in +the glass, with the smile upon it, startled him again. + +What next? Surrender? There was no surrender in the make-up of the man. +His legal success had hinged less upon ability than upon dogged +pertinacity. In this way he had saved the life of more than one criminal +and won a reputation that brought him practice. He had made a charge, +had been challenged and had fought. With almost any other man the issue +would have been at an end as honorably settled, but his habit of mind +was opposed to accepting anything as settled which was clearly +unsettled. The duel did not give Morgan the rights of a gentleman if the +main charge were true, and Royson had convinced himself that it was +true. He wrote to Annie, assured that her visit would develop his next +move. + +So it was that one morning Royson found himself face to face with his +cousin, in the office. There was no word of sympathy for him. He had not +expected one, but he was hardly prepared for the half-smile which came +over her face when he greeted her, and which, during their interview, +returned from time to time. This enraged him beyond endurance, and +nothing but the remembrance that she alone held the key to the situation +prevented his coming to an open breach with her. She saw and read his +struggle aright, and the display put her in the best of humor. + +"When shall we see you at The Hall again?" she asked, coolly. + +"Never," he said, passionately, "until this man Morgan is exposed and +driven out." She arched her brows. + +"Never, then, would have been sufficient." + +"Annie, this man must be exposed; you have the proofs--you have +information; give it to me." She shook her head, smiling. + +"I have changed my mind, Amos; I do not want to be on bad terms with my +brother-in-law of the future; the fact is, I am getting fond of him. He +is very kind to everybody. Mother is to go to Paris to have her eyes +attended to, and Mary is to accompany her. Mr. Morgan has been accepted +as their escort." + +The face of the man grew crimson with suppressed rage. By a supreme +effort he recovered and returned the blow. + +"What a pity, Annie, it could not have been you! Paris has been your +hobby for years. When Mary returns she can tell you how to dress in the +best form and correct your French." It was a successful counter. She was +afraid to trust herself to reply. Royson drew his chair nearer. + +"Annie," he said, "I would give ten years of life to establish the truth +of what you have told me. So far as Mary is concerned, we will leave +that out, but I am determined to crush this fellow Morgan at any cost. +Something tells me we have a common cause in this matter. Give me a +starting point--you owe me something. I could have involved you; I +fought it out alone." She reflected a moment. + +"I cannot help you now as much as you may think. I am convinced of what +I told you, but the direct proof is wanting. You can imagine how +difficult such proof is. The man is thirty years old, probably, and +witnesses of his mother's times are old or dead." + +"And what witnesses could there have been?" + +"Few. John Morgan is gone. The next witness would be Rita. Rita is the +woman who kept Morgan's house for the last thirty years. She owned a +little house in the neighborhood of The Hall and was until she went to +Morgan's a professional nurse. There may be old negroes who can give you +points." + +"And Rita--where is she?" + +"Dead!" + +A shade of disappointment swept over his face. He caught her eyes fixed +upon him with the most peculiar expression. "She is the witness on whom +I relied," she said, slowly. "She was, I believe, the only human being +in the world who could have furnished conclusive testimony as to the +origin of Edward Morgan. She died suddenly the day your letter was +published!" She did not look away as she concluded, "your letter was +published!" She did not look away as she paused, but continued with her +eyes fixed upon his; and gradually, as he watched her, the brows +contracted slightly and the lids tightened under them. A gleam of +intelligence passed to him. His face grew white and his hands closed +convulsively upon the arms of his chair. + +"But that would be beyond belief," he said, at last, in a whisper. "If +what you think is true, he was her son!" She raised her brow as she +replied: + +"There was no tie of association! With him everything was at stake. You +can probably understand that when a man is in love he will risk a great +deal." + +Royson arose and walked the room. No man knew better than he the worst +side of the human heart. There is nothing so true in the history of +crime as that reputation is held higher than conscience. And in this +case there was the terrible passion of love. He did not reply to her +insinuation. + +"You think, then," he said, stopping in front of the woman, "that, +reading my letter, he hurried home--and in this you are correct since I +saw him across the street reading the paper, and a few minutes later +throw himself into a hack and take that direction--that he rushed into +the presence of this woman, demanded the truth, and, receiving it, in a +fit of desperation, killed her!" + +"What I may think, Amos, is my right to keep to myself. The only witness +died that day! There was no inquest! You asked me for a starting point." +She drew her gloves a little tighter, shook out her parasol and rose. +"But I am giving you too much of my time. I have some commissions from +Mary, who is getting ready for Paris, and I must leave you." + +He neither heard her last remark nor saw her go. Standing in the middle +of the room, with his chin upon his chest, he was lost to all +consciousness of the moment. When he looked to the chair she had +occupied it was vacant. He passed his hand over his brow. The scene +seemed to have been in a dream. + +But Amos Royson knew it was real. He had asked for a starting point, and +the woman had given it. + +As he considered it, he unconsciously betrayed how closely akin he was +to the woman, for every fact that came to him was in that legal mind, +trained to building theories, adjusted in support of the hypothesis of +crime. He was again the prosecuting attorney. How natural at least was +such a crime, supposing Morgan capable of it. + +And no man knew his history! + +With one blow he had swept away the witness. That had done a thousand +times in the annals of crime. Poison, the ambush, the street encounter, +the midnight shot through the open window, the fusillade at the form +outlined in its own front door; the press had recorded it since the +beginning of newspapers. Morgan had added one more instance. And if he +had not, the suspicion, the investigation, the doubt would remain! + +At this point by a perfectly natural process the mind of the man reached +its conclusion. Why need there be any suspicion, any doubt? Why might +not an inquest develop evidences of a crime? This idea involved action +and decision upon his part, and some risk. + +At last he arose from the desk, where, with his head upon his hand, he +had studied so long, and prepared for action. At the lavatory he caught +sight of his own countenance in the glass. It told him that his mind was +made up. It was war to the knife, and that livid scar upon the pallor of +his face was but the record of the first failure. The next battle would +not be in the open, with the skies blue above him and no shelter at +hand. His victim would never see the knife descend, but it would descend +nevertheless, and this time there would be no trembling hand or failure +of nerve. + +From his office he went direct to the coroner's and examined the +records. The last inquest was of the day previous; the next in line more +than a month before. There was no woman's name upon the list. So far +Annie was right. + +Outside of cities in the south no burial permits are required. Who was +the undertaker? Inquiry would easily develop the fact, but this time he +himself was to remain in the dark. If this crime was fastened upon +Morgan, the motive would be self-evident and a reaction of public +opinion would re-establish Royson high in favor. His experience would +rank as martyrdom. + +But a new failure would destroy him forever, and there was not a great +deal left to destroy, he felt. + +In the community, somewhere, was a negro whose only title was "Slippery +Dick," won in many a hotly contested criminal trial. It had been said of +this man that the entire penal code was exhausted in efforts to convict +him, and always without success. He had been prosecuted for nearly every +offense proscribed by state laws. Royson's first experience with the man +was as prosecuting attorney. Afterward and within the preceding year he +had defended him in a trial for body-snatching and had secured a verdict +by getting upon the jury one man who was closely kin to the person who +purchased the awful merchandise. This negro, plausible and cunning, +hesitated at nothing short of open murder--or such was his reputation. +It was to find him that Royson went abroad. Nor was it long before he +succeeded. + +That night, in a lonely cabin on the outskirts of the city, a trade was +made. Ten dollars in hand was paid. If upon an inquest by the coroner it +was found that there was a small wound on the back of the head of the +woman and the skull fractured, Slippery Dick was to receive $100 more. + +This was the only risk Royson would permit himself to take, and there +were no witnesses to the trade. Dick's word was worth nothing. Discovery +could not affect the plot seriously, and Dick never confessed. The next +day he met Annie upon the road, having seen her in the city, and posted +himself to intercept her. + +"I have investigated the death of Rita," he said, "and am satisfied that +there are no grounds for suspecting murder. We shall wait!" The woman +looked him in the face. + +"Amos," she said, "if you were not my cousin, I would say that you are +an accomplished liar!" Before he replied there was heard the sound of a +horse's feet. Edward Morgan drove by, gravely lifting his hat. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +THE FACE OF THE BODY-SNATCHER. + + +The methods of Royson's emissary were simple and direct. One day he +wandered in among the negroes at Ilexhurst in search of a lost hound +puppy, for Dick was a mighty hunter, especially of the midnight 'possum. + +No one had seen the puppy, but all were ready to talk, and the death of +Rita had been the latest sensation. From them he obtained every detail +from the time Edward had carried the body in his arms to the little +house, until it had been buried under the crooked cedar in the +plantation burying-ground. + +The body had been dressed by two of the women. There had been a little +blood on her head, from a small wound in the left temple, where she had +cut herself against the glass when she was "taken with a fit." + +The coffin was a heavy metal one and the top screwed on. That was all. + +When Royson received the report of the cut in the head and the blood, +his breath almost forsook him. Morgan might have been innocent, but what +a chain of circumstantial evidence! If Dick should return to tell him +some morning that the false wound he was to make was already on the spot +selected, he would not be surprised. So far he could show a motive for +the crime, and every circumstance necessary to convict his enemy with +it. All he needed was a cause of death. + +Dick's precautions in this venture were novel, from the Caucasian +standpoint. His superstition was the strongest feature of his depraved +mind. The negro has an instinctive dread of dead bodies, but a dead and +buried cadaver is to him a horror. + +In this instance, however, Dick's superstition made his sacrilege +possible; for while he believed firmly in the reappearance and power of +departed spirits, he believed equally in the powers of the voodoo to +control or baffle them. Before undertaking his commission, he went to +one of these voodoo "doctors," who had befriended him in more than one +peril, and by the gift of a fat 'possum secured a charm to protect him. + +The dark hour came, and at midnight to the little clump of trees came +also Slippery Dick. His first act was to bore a hole with an auger in +the cedar, insert the voodoo charm and plug the hole firmly. This +chained the spirit of the dead. Then with a spade and working rapidly, +he threw the mound aside and began to toss out the earth from above the +coffin. In half an hour his spade laid the wooden case bare. Some +difficulty was experienced in removing the screws, but down in that +cavity, the danger from using matches was reduced to a minimum, and by +the aid of these he soon loosened the lid and removed it. To lift this +out, and take off the metal top of the burial case, was the work of but +a few minutes longer, and the remains of poor Rita were exposed to view. + +In less than an hour after his arrival Slippery Dick had executed his +commission and was filling up the grave. With the utmost care he pressed +down the earth and drew up the loosened soil. + +There had been a bunch of faded flowers upon the mound; he restored +these and with a sigh of relief shouldered his spade and auger and took +his departure, glad to leave the grewsome spot. + +But a dramatic pantomime had been enacted near him which he never saw. +While he was engaged in marking the head of the lifeless body, the +slender form of a man appeared above him and shrank back in horror at +the discovery. This man turned and picked up the heavy spade and swung +it in air. If it had descended the negro would have been brained. But +thought is a monarch! Slowly the arm descended, the spade was laid upon +the ground, and the form a moment before animated with an overwhelming +passion stood silent and motionless behind the cedar. + +When the negro withdrew, this man followed, gliding from cover to cover, +or following boldly in the open, but at all times with a tread as soft +as a panther's. Down they went, the criminal and his shadow, down into +the suburbs, then into the streets and then into the heart of the city. +Near the office of Amos Royson the man in front uttered a peculiar +whistle and passed on. At the next corner under the electric lamp he +turned and found himself confronted by a slender man, whose face shone +white under the ghastly light of the lamp, whose hair hung upon his +shoulders, and whose eyes were distended with excitement. Uttering a cry +of fright, the negro sprang from the sidewalk into the gutter, but the +other passed on without turning except to cross the street, where in a +friendly shadow he stopped. And as he stood there the negro retraced his +steps and paused at the door of the lawyer's office. A dimly outlined +form was at the window above. They had no more than time to exchange a +word when the negro went on and the street was bare, except that a +square away a heavy-footed policeman was approaching. + +The man in the shadow leaned his head against a tree and thought. In his +brain, standing out as distinct as if cut from black marble, was the +face of the man he had followed. + +Gerald possessed the reasoning faculty to an eminent degree, but it had +been trained altogether upon abstract propositions. The small affairs of +life were strange and remote to him, and the passions that animate the +human breast were forces and agencies beyond his knowledge and +calculations. + +Annie Montjoy, with the facts in his possession, would have reached +instantly a correct conclusion as to their meaning. He could not handle +them. His mind was absolutely free of suspicion. He had wandered to the +little graveyard, as he had before when sleepless and harassed, and +discovered that some one was disfiguring the body of his lifelong +friend. To seize the spade and wreak vengeance upon the intruder was his +first impulse, but at the moment that it should have fallen he saw that +the head of the woman was being carefully replaced in position and the +clothing arranged. He paused in wonder. The habitual opium-eater +develops generally a cunning that is incomprehensible to the normal +mind, and curiosity now controlled Gerald. The moment for action had +passed. He withdrew behind the tree to witness the conclusion of the +drama. + +His following the retreating figure was but the continuance of his new +mood. He would see the affair out and behold the face of the man. +Succeeding in this he went home, revolving in mind the strange +experience he had gained. + +But the excitement would not pass away from him, and in the solitude of +his studio, with marvelous skill he drew in charcoal the scene as it +shone in memory--the man in the grave, the sad, dead face of the woman, +shrinking into dissolution, and then its every detail perfect, upon a +separate sheet the face of the man under the lamp. The memories no +longer haunted him. They were transferred to paper. + +Then Gerald underwent the common struggle of his existence; he lay down +and tossed upon his pillow; he arose and read and returned again. At +last came the surrender, opium and--oblivion. + +Standing by the easel next morning, Virdow said to Edward: "The brain +cannot survive this many years. When dreams of memories such as these, +vivid enough to be remembered and drawn, come upon it, when the waking +mind holds them vivid, it is in a critical condition." He looked sadly +upon the sleeper and felt the white wrist that overlay the counterpane. +The flesh was cold, the pulse slow and feeble. "Vitality small," he +said. "It will be sudden when it comes; sleep will simply extend into +eternity." + +Edward's mind reverted to the old general. What was his own duty? He +would decide. It might be that he would return no more, and if he did +not, and Gerald was left, he should have a protector. + +Virdow had been silent and thoughtful. Now he turned with sudden +decision. + +"My experiments will probably end with the next," he said. "The truth +is, I am so thoroughly convinced that the cultivation of this singular +power which Gerald possesses is destructive of the nervous system I +cannot go on with them. In some way the young man has wound himself +about me. I will care for him as I would a son. He is all gold." The old +man passed out abruptly, ashamed of the feeling which shook his voice. + +But Edward sat upon the bed and taking the white hand in his own, +smoothed it gently, and gave himself up to thought. What did it mean? +And how would it end? The sleeper stirred slightly. "Mother," he said, +and a childish smile dwelt for a moment upon his lips. Edward replaced +the hand upon the counterpane and withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE GRAVE IN THE PAST. + + +When Col. Montjoy rode over to Gen. Evan's, a few mornings after the +operation upon his wife's eyes, it was with but ill-defined notions of +what he would say or what would be the result of the interview. +Circumstances had placed him in a strange and unpleasant position. + +Col. Montjoy felt that the Paris trip could not be well avoided. He +realized that the chances of accomplishing any real good for his wife +were very small, but Dr. Campbell had distinctly favored it, and the +hesitancy had evidently only been on account of the cost. + +But could he accept the generous offer made by Morgan? That was the +embarrassing question. He was not mentally blind; he felt assured that +the real question for him to decide then was what he should answer when +a demand for the hand of his daughter was made. For in accepting the +loan and escort of Edward Morgan, he accepted him. Could he do this? + +So far as the rumors about the young man were concerned, he never +entertained them seriously. He regarded them only as a desperate +political move, and so did the public generally. But a shadow ought not +to hang over the life of his daughter. + +The old general was at home and partially read his visitor's predicament +in his face as he approached the veranda. + +"Come in, Norton," he said without moving from his great rocker; "what +is troubling you?" And he laughed maliciously. "But by the way," he +added, "how is the madam to-day? Mary told me yesterday she was getting +along finely." + +"Well, we can't tell, Evan," said his visitor, drawing his chair next to +the rail; "we can't tell. In fact, nothing will be known until the +bandages are removed. I came off without my tobacco--" He was holding +his pipe. The general passed him his box. + +"Oh, well, she will come through all right; Campbell is never mistaken." + +"That is true, and that is what troubles me. Campbell predicts a return +of the trouble and thinks in the near future her only chance for vision +will lie in the eye which has been blind for several years. He is +willing to admit that Moreau in Paris is better authority and would be +glad for Caroline to see him and have his opinion." + +"Ah, indeed!" It was expressive. The colonel knew that Evan comprehended +the situation, if not the whole of it. If there had been any doubt, it +would have been dispelled by the next words: + +"A great expense, Norton, in these days, but it must be attended to." +Col. Montjoy ran his hand through his hair and passed it over his brow +nervously. + +"The trouble is, Evan, the matter has been attended to, and too easily. +Edward Morgan was present during the operation and has offered to lend +me all the money necessary for the trip with or without security and +with or without interest." The general shook with silent laughter and +succeeded in getting enough smoke down his throat to induce a disguising +cough. + +"That is a trouble, Norton, that hasn't afflicted us old fellows much of +late--extra ease in money matters. Edward is rich and will not be in any +way embarrassed by a matter like this. I think you will do well to make +it a business transaction and accept." + +"You do not understand. I have noticed marked attentions to Mary on the +part of the young man, and Mary," he said, sadly, "is, I am afraid, +interested in him." + +"That is different. Before you decide on accepting this offer, you feel +that you must decide on the young man himself, I see. What do you +think?" + +"I haven't been able to think intelligently, I am afraid, upon that +point. What do you think, Evan? Mary is about as much your property as +mine." + +"I think," said the general, throwing off his disguise, "that in Edward +Morgan she will get the only man I ever saw to whom I would be willing +to give her up. He is as straight and as brave as any man that ever +followed me into battle." Montjoy was silent awhile. + +"You know," he said, presently, "I value your opinion more than any +man's and I do not wish to express or to intimate a doubt of Mr. Morgan, +who, I see, has impressed you. I believe the letter of Royson's was +infamous and untrue in every respect, but it has been published--and she +is my daughter. Why in the name of common sense hasn't he come to me and +given me something to go upon?" + +"It has occurred to me," said the general, dryly, "that he will do so +when he comes for Mary. In the meantime, a man isn't called upon to +travel with a family tree under his arm and show it to every one who +questions him. Morgan is a gentleman, _sans peur et sans reproche_. If +he is not, I do not know the breed. + +"So far as the charge of Royson is concerned," continued the general, +"let me calm your mind on that point. I have never entered upon this +matter with you because the mistakes of a man's kindred are things he +has no right to gossip about, even among friends. The woman, Rita +Morgan, has always been free; she was given her freedom in infancy by +John Morgan's father. Her mother's history is an unfortunate one. It is +enough to say that she was sent out from Virginia with John Morgan's +mother, who was, as you know, a blood relative of mine; and I know that +this woman was sent away with an object. She looked confoundedly like +some of the family. Well, John Morgan's father was wild; you can guess +the result. + +"Rita lived in her own house, and when her husband died John took her to +his home. He told me once in so many words that his father left +instructions outside his will to that effect, and that Rita's claims +upon the old man, as far as blood was concerned, were about the same as +his. You see from this that the Royson story is an absurdity. I knew it +when I went in and vouched for our young friend, and I would have proved +it to Thomas the night he called, but Rita dropped dead that day." + +Montjoy drew a long breath. + +"You astonish me," he said, "and relieve me greatly. I had never heard +this. I did not really doubt, but you have cleared up all possibility of +error." + +"Nor has any other man heard the story. My conversation with John Morgan +grew out of his offer to buy of me Alec, a very handsome mulatto man I +owned, to whom Rita had taken a fancy. He wanted to buy him and free +him, but I had never bought or sold a slave, and could not bring myself +to accept money for Alec. I freed him myself. John was not willing for +her to marry a slave. They were married and he died in less than a year. +That is Rita's history. When Alec died Rita went to John Morgan and kept +house for him. + +"When it was that Gerald came in I do not know," pursued the general +musingly. "The boy was nearly grown before I heard of him. He and Edward +are children of distant relatives, I am told. John never saw the latter +at all, probably, but educated him and, finding Gerald incapacitated, +very wisely left his property to the other, with Gerald in his charge. + +"No, I have taken the greatest fancy to these two young fellows, +although I only have known one a few weeks and the other by sight and +reputation." He paused a moment, as though his careless tone had +desecrated a sacred scene; the face of the sleeper rose to his mind. +"But they are game and thoroughbreds. Accept the proposition and shut +your eyes to the future. It will all work out rightly." Montjoy shook +his head sadly. + +"I will accept it," he said, "but only because it means a chance for +Caroline which otherwise she would not have. Of course you know Mary is +going with her, and Morgan is to be their escort?" + +The general uttered a prolonged whistle and then laughed. "Well, +confound the little darling, to think she should come over here and tell +me all the arrangements and leave herself out; Montjoy, that is the only +one of your family born without grit; tell her so. She is afraid of one +old man's tongue." + +"Here she comes, with Morgan," said Montjoy, smiling. "Tell her +yourself." + +Edward's buggy was approaching rapidly and the flushed and happy face of +the girl could be seen within. + +"Plotting against me," she called out, as she descended, "and I dare you +to own it." The general said: + +"On the contrary, I was about telling your father what a brave little +woman you are. Come in, Mr. Morgan," he added, seeing from her blushes +that she understood him. + +"Mr. Morgan was coming over to see the general," said Mary, "and I came +with him to ride back with papa." And, despite the protests of all the +others, he presently got Mary into the buggy and carried her off. "You +will stop, as you come by, Mr. Morgan," he called out. "I will be glad +to see you on a matter of business." + +The buggy was yet in sight when Edward turned to his old friend and +said: + +"Gen. Evan, I have come to make a statement to you, based upon long +reflection and a sense of justice. I am about to leave the state for +France, and may never return. There are matters connected with my family +which I feel you should know, and I prefer to speak rather than write +them." He paused to collect his thoughts, the general looking straight +ahead and recalling the conversation just had with Col. Montjoy. "If I +seem to trespass on forbidden grounds or stir unpleasant memories, I +trust you will hear me through before condemning me. Many years ago you +lost a daughter----" + +"Go on," said the general as Edward paused and looked doubtfully toward +him. + +"She was to have married my uncle, I am informed, but she did not. On +the contrary, she married a foreigner--her music teacher. Is this not +true?" + +"Go on." + +"She went abroad, but unknown to you she came back and her child was +born." + +"Ah." The sound that came from the old man's lips was almost a gasp. For +the first time since the recital was begun he turned his eyes upon his +companion. + +"At this birth, which took place probably at Ilexhurst, possibly in the +house of Rita Morgan, whose death you know of, occurred the birth of +Rita's child also. Your daughter disappeared. Rita was delirious, and +when she recovered could not be convinced that this child was not her +own; and she thought him her son until the day of her death." + +"Where is this child? Why was I not informed?" The old general's voice +was hoarse and his words scarcely audible. Edward, looking him full in +the face, replied: + +"At Ilexhurst! His name, as we know it, is Gerald Morgan." + +Evan, who had half arisen, sank back in his chair. + +"And this is your belief, Mr. Morgan?" + +"That is the fact, as the weight of evidence declares. The woman in +health did not claim Gerald for her son. In the moment of her death she +cried out: 'They lied!' This is what you heard in the yard and I +repeated it at that time. I was, as you know, laboring under great +excitement. There is a picture of your daughter at Ilexhurst and the +resemblance it strong. You yourself were struck with the family +resemblance. + +"I felt it my duty to speak, even at the risk of appearing to trespass +upon your best feelings. You were my friend when I needed friends, and +had I concealed this I would have been ungrateful." Edward rose, but the +general, without looking up, laid his hand upon his arm. + +"Sit down, Mr. Morgan. I thank you. You could not have done less. But +give me time to realize what this means. If you are correct, I have a +grandson at Ilexhurst"--Edward bowed slightly--"whom my daughter +abandoned to the care of a servant." Again Morgan bowed, but by the +faintest motion of his head. + +"I did not say abandoned," he corrected. + +"It cannot be true," said the old man; "it cannot be true. She was a +good girl and even infatuation would not have changed her character. She +would have come back to me." + +"If she could," said Edward. He told him the story of the unfinished +manuscript and the picture drawn by Gerald. He was determined to tell +him all, except as related to himself. That was his own and Virdow's +secret. "If that story is true, she may not have been able to get to +you; and then the war came on; you must know all before you can judge." +The old soldier was silent. + +He got up with apparent difficulty and said formally: "Mr. Morgan, I +will be glad to have you join me in a glass of wine. I am not as +vigorous as I may appear, and this is my time o' day. Come in." Edward +noticed that, as he followed, the general's form had lost something of +its martial air. + +No words were exchanged over the little southern ceremony. The general +merely lifted his glass slightly and bowed. + +The room was cool and dark. He motioned Edward to a rocker and sank into +his leather-covered easy-chair. There was a minute's silence broken by +the elder man. + +"What is your belief, Mr. Morgan, as to Gerald?" + +"The facts as stated are all----" + +"Nevertheless, as man to man--your belief." + +"Then, in my opinion, the evidence points to Gerald as the child of this +woman Rita. I am sure also that it is his own belief. The only +disturbing evidence is the likeness, but Virdow says that the children +of servants very frequently bear likeness to a mistress. It is a +delicate question, but all of our ancestors were not immaculate. Is +there anything in the ancestry of Rita Morgan--is there any reason why +her child should bear a likeness to--to----" + +The general lifted his hand in warning. But he said: "What became of the +other child?" The question did not disturb or surprise the young man. He +expected that it would be asked. It was natural. Yet, prepared as he +was, his voice was unsteady when he replied: + +"That I do not know." + +"You do not know!" The general's tone of voice was peculiar. Did he +doubt? + +"I had two objects in view when I brought up this subject," said Edward, +when the silence grew embarrassing; "one was to acquaint you with the +possibilities out at Ilexhurst, and to ask your good offices for Gerald +in the event my absence is prolonged or any necessity for assistance +should arise. The other is to find the second child if it is living and +determine Gerald's status; and, with this as my main object, I venture +to ask you if, since her disappearance, you have ever heard of Marion +Evan?" + +"God help me," said Evan, brokenly; "yes. But it was too soon; too soon; +I could not forgive her." + +"And since then?" The old man moved his hand slowly and let it fall. + +"Silence--oblivion." + +"Can you give me the name of her husband?" Without reply the veteran +went to the secretary and took from a pigeonhole a well-worn letter. + +"No eye but mine has ever read these lines," he said, simply. "I do not +fear to trust them to you! Read! I cannot now!" + +Edward's hand trembled as he received the papers. If Rita Morgan spoke +the truth he was about to look upon lines traced by his mother's hand. +It was like a message from the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE PLEDGE THAT WAS GIVEN. + + +Edward opened the letter with deep emotion. The handwriting was small +and unformed, the writing of schoolgirl. It read: + + "Jan. 3, 18--. My Darling Papa: When you read this I will be + far away upon the ocean and separated from you by circumstances + compared with which leagues are but trifles. You probably know + them by telegram before now, but I cannot leave you and my + native land without a farewell. Papa, I am now the wife of an + honorable, loving man, and happy as I could be while + remembering you and your loneliness. Why I have done this, why + I have taken this step without coming to you first and letting + you decide, I cannot tell, nor do I know. I only know that I + love my husband as I have never loved before; that I have his + whole affection; that he wanted me to go with him blindly, and + that I have obeyed. That is all. There is no ingratitude in my + heart, no lessening of affection for you; you still are to me + the one man in my old world; but my husband had come in and + made a new world of it all, and I am his. You will blame me, I + am afraid, and perhaps disown me. If so, God is merciful to + women who suffer for those they love. I would lay down my life + for Gaspard; I have laid down everything dear to life. We go to + his childhood's home in Silesia, where with the money he has + saved and with his divine art, we hope to be happy and face the + world without fear. Oh, papa, if you could only forgive me; if + you could remember your own love for that beautiful mamma of + whom you never tired telling, and who, I am sure, is near me + now; if you could remember and forgive me, the world would hold + nothing that I would exchange a thought for. Gaspard is noble + and manly. You would admire him and he would adore you, as do + I, your only child. Papa, you will write to me; a father can + never forsake his child. If I am wrong, you cannot forsake me; + if I am right, you cannot. There is no arrangement in all God's + providence for such a contingency, and Christ did not turn even + from the woman whom others would stone. Can you turn from me, + when if I have erred it is through the divine instinct that God + has given me? No! You cannot, you will not! If you could, you + would not have been the noble patient, brave man whom all men + love. Write at once and forgive and bless your child. + + "Marion." + +On a separate slip, pinned to the letter, was: + + "My address will be Mrs. Gaspard Levigne, Breslau, Silesia. If + we change soon, I will write to you. God bless and care for + you. + + "M." + +Edward gently replaced the faded letter upon the table; his eyes were +wet and his voice changed and unnatural. + +"You did not write?" + +The general shook his head. + +"You did not write?" Edward repeated the question; this time his voice +almost agonized in the weight of emotion. Again the general shook his +head, fearing to trust his voice. The young man gazed upon him long and +curiously and was silent. + +"I wrote five years later," said Evan, presently. "It was the best I +could do. You cannot judge the ante-bellum southern planter by him +to-day. I was a king in those times! I had ambition. I looked to the +future of my child and my family! All was lost; all perished in the act +of a foolish girl, infatuated with a music master. I can forgive now, +but over me have rolled waves enough in thirty years to wear away stone. +The war came on; I carried that letter from Manassas to Appomattox and +then I wrote. I set inquiries afoot through consuls abroad. No voice has +ever raised from the silence. My child is dead." + +"Perhaps not," said Edward, gently; "perhaps not. If there is any genius +in European detective bureaus that money can command, we shall know--we +shall know." + +"If she lived she would have written. I cannot get around that. I know +my child. She could not remain silent nearly thirty years." + +"Unless silenced by circumstances over which she had no control," +continued Edward, "and every side of this matter has presented itself to +me. Your daughter had one firm, unchanging friend--my uncle, John +Morgan. He has kept her secret--perhaps her child. Is it not possible +that he has known of her existence somewhere; that she has been all +along informed of the condition and welfare of the child--and of you?" +Evan did not reply; he was intently studying the young man. + +"John offered to find her a year after she was gone. He came and pleaded +for her, but I gave him conditions and he came no more." + +"It is not only possible that she lives," said Edward, "but probable. +And it is certain that if John Morgan knew of her existence and then +that she had passed away, that all pledges would have been suspended in +the presence of a father's right to know that his child was dead. I go +to unravel the mystery. I begin to feel that I will succeed, for now, +for the first time I have a starting point. I have name and address." He +took down the information in his memorandum book. + +Edward prepared to take his departure, when Evan, throwing off his mood, +stood before him thoughtful and distressed. + +"Say it," said Edward, bravely, reading a change in the frank face. + +"One moment, and I shall bid you farewell and godspeed." He laid his +hand upon Edward's shoulder and fixed a penetrating gaze upon him. +"Young man, my affairs can wait, but yours cannot. I have no questions +to ask of yourself; you came among us and earned our gratitude. In time +of trouble I stood by you. It was upon my vouching personally for your +gentility that your challenge was accepted. We went upon the field +together; your cause became mine. Now this; I have yet a daughter, the +young woman whom you love--not a word now--she is the pride and idol of +two old men. She is well disposed toward you, and you are on the point +of going upon a journey in her company under circumstances that place +her somewhat at a disadvantage. I charge you that it is not honorable to +take advantage of this to win from her a declaration or a promise of any +kind. Man to man, is it not true?" + +"It is true," said Edward, turning pale, but meeting his gaze +fearlessly. "It is so true that I may tell you now that from my lips no +word of love has ever passed to her; that if I do speak to her upon that +subject it will be while she is here among her own people and free from +influences that would bias her decision unfairly." The hands of the two +men met impulsively. A new light shone in the face of the soldier. + +"I vouched for you, and if I erred then there is no more faith to be put +in manhood, for if you be not a true man I never have seen one. Go and +do your best for Gerald--and for me. I must reflect upon these +matters--I must reflect! As yet their full import has failed me. You +must send me that manuscript." + +Deeply impressed and touched, Edward withdrew. The task was finished. It +had been a delicate and trying one for him. + +At The Hall Edward went with Mary into the darkened room and took the +little mother's hand in his and sat beside her to tell of the proposed +journey. He pictured vividly the scenes to be enjoyed and life in the +gay capital, and all as a certainty for her. She did not doubt; Dr. +Campbell had promised sight; it would return. But this journey, the +expense, they could not afford it. + +But Mary came to the rescue there; her father had told her he was +entirely able to bear the expense, and she was satisfied. This, however, +did not deceive the mother, who was perfectly familiar with the family +finances. She knitted away in discreet silence, biding her time. + +The business to which Col. Montjoy had referred was soon finished. He +formally accepted the very opportune offer and wished to know when they +should meet in the city to arrange papers. To this Edward objected, +suggesting that he would keep an accurate account of expenses incurred +and arrange papers upon his return; and to this, the only reasonable +arrangement possible, Col. Montjoy acceded. + +One more incident closed the day. Edward had nearly reached the city, +when he came upon a buggy by the roadside, drawn up in the shade of a +tree. His own animal, somewhat jaded, was leisurely walking. Their +approach was practically noiseless, and he was alongside the vehicle +before either of the two occupants looked up. He saw them both start +violently and the face of the man flush quickly, a scar upon the nose +becoming at once crimson. They were Royson and his cousin. + +Greatly pained and embarrassed, Edward was at a loss how to act, but +unconsciously he lifted his hat, with ceremonious politeness. Royson did +not respond, but Annie, with more presence of mind, smiled sweetly and +bowed. This surprised him. She had studiously avoided meeting him at The +Hall. + +The message of Mary, "Royson is your enemy," flashed upon him. He had +felt intuitively the enmity of the woman. Why this clandestine interview +and to what did it tend? He knew in after days. + +Arriving at home he found Virdow writing in the library and forbore to +disturb him. Gerald was slumbering in the glass-room, his deep breathing +betraying the cause. Edward went to the little room upstairs to secure +the manuscript and prepare it for sending to Gen. Evan. Opening the desk +he was surprised to see that the document was not where he placed it. A +search developed it under all the fragmentary manuscript, and he was +about to inclose it in an envelope when he noticed that the pages were +reversed. The last reader had not slipped the pages one under another, +but had placed them one on another, probably upon the desk, thus +bringing the last page on top. + +Edward remembered at that moment that in reading the manuscript he had +carefully replaced each page in its proper position and had left the +package on top of all others. Who could have disturbed them? Not Virdow, +and there was none else but Gerald! + +He laid aside the package and reflected. Of what use could this +unexplained manuscript be to Gerald? None that he could imagine; and yet +only Gerald could have moved it. Greatly annoyed, he restored the leaves +and placed them in an envelope. + +He was still thinking of the singular discovery he had made, and idly +glancing over the other fragments, when from one of them fell a +newspaper clipping. He would not in all probability have read it +through, but the name "Gaspard," so recently impressed upon his mind, +caught his eye. The clipping was printed in French and was headed "From +our Vienna correspondent." Translated, it read as follows: + +"To-day began the trial of Leon Gaspard for the murder of Otto Schwartz +in this city on the 18th ult. The case attracts considerable attention, +because of the fact that Gaspard has been for a week playing first +violin in the orchestra of the Imperial Theater, where he has won many +admirers and because of the peculiar circumstances of the case. Schwartz +was a stranger and came to this city only upon the day of his death. It +seems that Gaspard, so it is charged, some years previously had deserted +a sister of Schwartz after a mock marriage, but this he denies. The men +met in a cafe and a scuffle ensued, during which Schwartz was stabbed to +the heart and instantly killed. Gaspard claims that he had been +repeatedly threatened by letter, and that Schwartz came to Vienna to +kill him, and that he (Schwartz) struck the first blow. He had upon his +face a slight cut, inflicted, he claims, by a seal ring worn by +Schwartz. Bystanders did not see the blow, and Schwartz had no weapons +upon his body. Gaspard declares that he saw a knife in the dead man's +hand and that it was picked up and concealed by a stranger who +accompanied him into the cafe. Unless he can produce the threatening +letters, and find witnesses to prove the knife incident, the trial will +go hard with him." + +Another clew! And the husband of Marion Evan was a murderer! Who sent +that clipping to John Morgan? Probably a detective bureau. Edward folded +it sadly, and gave it place by the memoranda he had written in his +notebook. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +"WHICH OF THE TWO WAS MY MOTHER?" + + +The sleeper lay tranquilly forgetful of the morning hours redolent of +perfumes and vocal with the songs of birds. The sunlight was gone, a +deep-gray cloud having crept up to shadow the scene. All was still in +the glass-room. Virdow shook his head. + +"This," he said, "strange, as it may seem, is his real life. Waking +brings the dreams. We will not disturb him." + +Edward would have returned his violin to its case, but as he sat looking +upon the face of the sleeper and revolving in mind the complications +which had enslaved him, there came upon the roof of glass the unheralded +fall of rain. As it rose and fell in fine cadences under the fitful +discharge of moisture from the uneven cloud drifting past, a note wild +but familiar caught his ear; it was the note of the waterfall. +Unconsciously he lifted his bow, and blending with that strange minor +chord, he filled the room with low, sweet melody. + +And there as the song grew into rapture from its sadness under the spell +of a new-found hope, under the memory of that last scene, when the +rainbow overhung the waters and the face of the girl had become radiant +with the thought she expressed, Gerald arose from his couch and stood +before the easel. All the care lines were gone from his face. For the +first time in the knowledge of the two men he stood a cool, rational +being. The strains ran on. The artist drew, lingering over a touch of +beauty, a shade of expression, a wave of fine hair upon the brow. Then +he stood silent and gazed upon his work. It was finished. The song of +the violin trembled--died away. + +He did not for the moment note his companions; he was looking upward +thoughtfully. The sun had burst open the clouds and was filling the +outer world with yellow light, through the water-seeped air. Far away, +arching the mellow depths of a cloud abyss, its colors repeated upon the +wet grass around him, was a rainbow. Then he saw that Virdow and Edward +were watching him. The spell was broken. He smiled a little and beckoned +to Edward. + +"Here is a new face," he said. "It is the first time it has come to me. +It is a face that rests me." Edward approached and gazed upon the face +of Mary! Speechless with the rush of feeling that came over him, he +turned and left the room. + +To Virdow it meant nothing except a fine ideal, but, impressed with the +manner of the musician, he followed to the great hall. The girl of the +picture stood in the doorway. Before he had time to speak, he saw the +martial figure of Evan overshadow hers and heard the strong, manly voice +asking for Edward. + +Edward came forward. Confused by his recent experience, and the sudden +appearance of the original of the picture, he with difficulty managed to +welcome his guest and introduce his friend. + +"I thought best to come," said Evan when Virdow, with easy courtesy, was +engaging the attention of the lady. "I have passed a sleepless night. +Where can we speak privately?" Edward motioned to the stairway, but +hesitated. + +"Never mind Mary," said the general, divining his embarrassment. + +"I took her away from the colonel on the road; she and the professor +will take care of themselves." She heard the remark and smiled, replying +gayly: + +"But don't stay too long. I am afraid I shall weary your friend." + +Virdow made his courtliest bow. + +"Impossible," he said. "I have been an untiring admirer of the beautiful +since childhood." + +"Bravo!" cried Evan. "You will do!" Virdow bowed again. + +"I would be glad to have you answer a question," he said, rather +abruptly, gazing earnestly into her eyes. She was astonished, but +managed to reply assuringly. "It is this: Have you ever met Gerald +Morgan?" + +"Never. I have heard so much of him lately, I should be glad to see +him." + +"Has he ever seen you?" + +"Not that I am aware of----" + +"Certainly not face to face--long enough for him to remember your every +feature--your expression?" + +"Why, no." The old man looked troubled and began to walk up and down the +hall, his head bent forward. The girl watched him nonplussed and with a +little uneasiness. + +"Pardon me--pardon me," he said, finally, recalling the situation. "But +it is strange, strange!" + +"May I inquire what troubles you, sir?" she asked, timidly. + +"Yes, certainly, yes." He started, with sudden resolution, and +disappeared for a few moments. When he returned, he was holding a large +sheet of cardboard. "It is this," he said. "How could a man who has +never seen you face to face have drawn this likeness?" He held Gerald's +picture before her. She uttered an exclamation of surprise. + +"And did he draw it--did Mr. Gerald----" + +"In my presence." + +"He has never seen me." + +"Yes," said a musical voice; "as you were then, I have seen you." She +started with fright. Gerald, with pallid face and hair upon his +shoulders, stood before her. "So shall I see you forever." She drew +nearer to Virdow. + +"This, my young friend, is Mary." It was all he could remember. And then +to her: "This is Gerald." + +"Mary," he said, musingly, "Mary? What a pretty name! It suits you. None +other would." She had extended her hand shyly. He took it and lifted it +to his lips. It was the first time a girl's hand had rested in his. He +did not release it; she drew away at last. Something in his voice had +touched her; it was the note of suffering, of unrest, which a woman +feels first. She knew something of his history. He had been Edward's +friend. Her father had pictured the scene wherein he had cornered and +defied Royson. + +"I am sure we shall be friends, Mr. Gerald. Mr. Morgan is so fond of +you." + +"We shall be more than friends," he said, gently; "more than friends." +She misunderstood him. Had he divined her secret and did Edward promise +him that? + +"Never less," she said. He had not removed his eyes from her, and now as +she turned to speak to Virdow, he came and stood by her side, and +lifting gently one of her brown curls gazed wonderingly upon it. She was +embarrassed, but her good sense came to the rescue. + +"See the light upon it come and go," he said. "We call it the reflected +light; but it is life itself glimmering there. The eye holds the same +ray." + +"You have imagination," she said, smiling, "and it is fortunate. Here +you must be lonely." He shook his head. + +"Imagination is often a curse. The world generally is happy, I think, +and the happiest are those who touch life through the senses alone and +who do not dream. I am never alone! Would to God sometimes I were." A +look of anguish convulsed his face. She laid her hand upon his wrist as +he stood silently struggling for self-possession. + +"I am so sorry," she said, softly; "I have pained you." The look, the +touch, the tender voice--which was it? He shuddered and gazed upon the +little hand and then into her eyes. Mary drew back, wondering; she read +him aright. Love in such natures is not a growth. It is born as a flash +of light. Yet she did not realize the full significance of the +discovery. Then, oh, wonderful power of nature, she turned upon him her +large, melting eyes and gave him one swift message of deepest sympathy. +Again he shuddered and the faintest crimson flushed his cheeks. + +They went with Virdow to see the wing-room, of which she had heard so +much, to look into the little cabinets, where he made his photographs, +to handle his weapons, view his favorite books and all the curious +little surroundings of his daily life; she went with an old man and a +child. Her girlish interest was infectious; Virdow threw off his +speculations and let himself drift with the new day, and Gerald was as a +smiling boy. + +They even ventured with unconventional daring to peep into the +glass-room. Standing on the threshold, the girl gazed in with surprise +and delight. + +"How novel and how simple!" she exclaimed; "and to think of having the +stars for friends all night!" He laughed silently and nodded his head; +here was one who understood. + +And then her eyes caught a glimpse of the marble bust, which Gerald had +polished and cleared of its discolorations. She made them bring it and +place it before her. A puzzled look overspread her face as she glanced +from Gerald to the marble and back again. + +"Strange, strange," she said; "sit here, Mr. Gerald, sit here, with your +head by this one, and let me see." White now as the marble itself, but +controlled by the new power that had enthralled, he obeyed; the two +faces looked forward upon the girl, feature for feature. Even the pose +was the same. + +"It was well done," she said. "I never saw a more perfect resemblance, +and yet"--going to one side--"the profile is that of Mr. Edward!" The +young man uttered no sound; he was, in the swift passing of the one +bright hour of his life, as the marble itself. But as he remained a +moment under the spell of despair that overran him, Gen. Evan stood in +the door. Only Mary caught the words in his sharp, half-smothered +exclamation as he started back. They were: "It is true!" He came forward +and, taking up the marble, looked long and tenderly into the face, and +bowing his head gave way to his tears. + +One by one they withdrew--Virdow, Mary, Edward. Only Gerald remained, +gazing curiously into the general's face and thinking. Then tenderly the +old man replaced the bust upon the table, and, standing above his head, +and said with infinite tenderness: + +"Gerald, you do not know me; if God wills it you will know me some day! +That marble upon the table is the carved face of my daughter--Marion +Evan." + +"Then you are Gen. Evan." The young man spoke the words coolly and +without emotion. + +"Yes. Nearly thirty years ago she left me--without a farewell until too +late, with no human being in all the world to love, none to care for +me." + +"So Rita told me." The words were little more than a whisper. + +"I did not curse her; I disowned her and sought to forget. I could not. +Then I began to cry out for her in the night--in my loneliness--do you +know what that word means?" + +"Do I know?" The pathos in the echo was beyond description. + +"And then I began a search that ended only when ten years had buried all +hopes. No tidings, no word after her first letter ever reached me. She +is dead, I believe; but recently some of the mystery has been untangled. +I begin to know, to believe that there has been an awful error +somewhere. She did come back. Her child was born and Rita cared for it. +As God is my judge, I believe that you are that child! Tell me, do you +remember, have you any knowledge that will help me to unravel this +tangled----" + +"You are simply mistaken, general," said the young man, without moving +other than to fold his arms and sink back into his chair. "I am not the +son of Marion Evan." Speechless for a moment, the general gazed upon his +companion. + +"I thought I was," continued Gerald; "I hoped I was. My God! My God! I +tried to be! I have exhausted almost life itself to make the truth a +lie, and the lie a truth! I have struggled with this secret here for +twenty years or more; I have studied every phase of life; I well-nigh +broke Rita's heart. Poor honest Rita! + +"She told me what they claimed--she was too honest to conceal that--and +what she believed; she was too human to conceal that; and then left me +to judge. The woman they would have me own as my mother left me, a +lonely babe, to the care of strangers; to grow up ill-taught, unguided, +frail and haunted with a sickening fear. She has left me twenty-seven +years. Rita stayed. If I were sick, Rita was by me. If I was crazed, +Rita was there to calm. Sleepless by night, sleepless by day, she loved +and comforted and blessed me." He had risen in his growing excitement. +"I ask you, General, who have known life better than I, which of the two +was my mother? Let me answer; you will not. The woman of thirty years +ago is nothing to me; she was once. That has passed. When Rita lay dead +in her coffin I kissed her lips at last and called her mother. I would +have killed myself afterward--life seemed useless--but not so now. It +may be a terrible thing to be Rita's son; I suppose it is, but as before +God, I thank Him that I have come to believe that there are no ties of +blood between me and the woman who was false to both father and child, +and in all probability deserted her husband." + +Gen. Evan turned abruptly and rushed from the room. Edward saw his face +as he passed out through the hall and did not speak. With courtly +dignity he took Mary to the buggy and stood with bowed head until they +were gone. He then returned to the glass-room. Gerald stood among the +ruins of a drawing and the fragments of the marble bust lay on the +floor. One glance at this scene and the blazing eyes of the man was +sufficient. Evan had failed. + +"Tell them," exclaimed Gerald, "that even the son of a slave is +dishonored, when they seek to link him to a woman who abandons her +child." + +"What is it," asked Virdow, in a whisper, coming to Edward's side. +Edward shook his head and drew him from the room. + +"He does not know what he is saying." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +UNDER THE SPELL. + + +The autumn days ran out and in the depth of the southern woods, here and +there, the black gums and sweet gums began to flame. And with them came +the day when the bandages were removed from the eyes of the gentle woman +at the hall. The family gathered about the little figure in the +sitting-room. Edward Morgan with them, and Col. Montjoy lowered the +bandage. The room had been darkened and all light except what came +through one open shutter had been excluded. There was a moment of +painful silence; Mary tightly clasping her mother's hands. The invalid +turned her face to the right and left, and then to the window. + +"Light," she said gently. "I see." + +"Thank God!" The words burst from the old man's lips and his arms went +around mother and daughter at once. For quicker than he the girl had +glided in between them and was clasping the beloved form. Edward said a +few words of congratulation and passed outside. The scene was sacred. + +Then came days of practice. The eyes so long darkened must be accustomed +to the light and not strained. Upon that weak vision, little by little, +came back the world, the trees and flowers, the faces of husband and +daughter and friends. It was a joyful season at the hall. + +A little sadder, a little sterner than usual, but with his fine face +flushed in sympathetic feeling, the old general came to add his +congratulations. Now nothing remained but to prepare for Paris, and all +was bustle. + +A few more nights and then--departure! + +Mary was at the piano, playing the simple music of the south and singing +the songs which were a part of the air she had breathed all her +life--the folk songs of the blacks. + +Col. Montjoy had the Duchess on his lap to hear "the little boy in his +watch crack hickory nuts" and the monotonous cracking of the nuts +mingling with the melody of the musician had put both asleep. + +Mary and Edward went to the veranda, and to them across the field came +the measured tread of feet, the call of the fiddler, and now and then +strains of music, such as the negro prefers. + +Edward proposed an excursion to witness the dance, and the girl assented +gladly. She was herself a born dancer; one whose feet were set to rhythm +in infancy. + +They reached the long house, a spacious one-room edifice, with low +rafters but a broad expanse of floor, and stood at the door. Couple +after couple passed by in the grand promenade, the variety and +incongruities of colors amusing Edward greatly. Every girl in passing +called repeatedly to "missy," the name by which Mary was known on the +plantation, and their dusky escorts bowed awkwardly and smiled. + +Suddenly the lines separated and a couple began to dance. Edward, who +had seen the dancers of most nations, was delighted with the abandon of +these. The man pursued the girl through the ranks, she eluding him with +ease, as he was purposely obstructed by every one. His object was to +keep as near her as possible for the final scene. At last she reappeared +in the open space and hesitating a moment, her dusky face wreathed in +smiles, darted through the doorway. There was a shout as her escort +followed. If he could catch her before she reentered at the opposite +door she paid the penalty. Before Edward realized the situation the girl +was behind him. He stepped the wrong way, there was a collision, and ere +she could recover, her pursuer had her in his arms. There was a moment's +struggle; his distinct smack proved his success, and if it had not, the +resounding slap from the broad hand of his captive would have betrayed +matters. + +On went the dance. Mary stood patting time to the music of the violin in +the hands of old Morris, the presiding genius of the festival, who bent +and genuflected to suit the requirements of his task. As the revel grew +wilder, as it always does under the stimulus of a spectator's presence, +she motioned to Edward, and entering, stood by the player. + +"In all your skill," she said, "you cannot equal this." For reply the +young man, taking advantage of a pause in the rout, reached over and +took the well-worn instrument from the hands of the old man. There was a +buzz of interest. Catching the spirit of the scene he drew the bow and +gave them the wild dance music of the Hungarians. They responded +enthusiastically and the player did not fail. + +Then, when the tumult had reached its climax, there was a crash, and +with bow in air Edward, flushed and excited, stood gazing upon the +crowd. Then forty voices shouted: + +"Missy! Missy!" On the impulse of the moment they cheered and clapped +their hands. + +All eyes were turned to Mary. She looked into the face of the player; +his eyes challenged hers and she responded, instinctively the dusky +figures shrank to the wall and alone, undaunted, the slender girl stood +in the middle of the deserted floor. Edward played the gypsy dance, +increasing the time until it was a passionate melody, and Mary began. +Her lithe form swayed and bent and glided in perfect response to the +player, the little feet twinkling almost unseen upon the sandy boards. +Such grace, such allurements, he had never before dreamed of. And +finally, breathless, she stood one moment, her hand uplifted, the +triumphant interpreter of his melody. With mischievous smile, she sprang +from the door, her face turned backward for one instant. + +Releasing the instrument, Edward followed in perfect forgetfulness of +self and situation. But when, puzzled, he appeared alone at the opposite +door, he heard her laugh in the distance--and memory overwhelmed him +with her tide. + +He was pale and startled and the company was laughing. He cast a handful +of money among them and in the confusion that followed made his escape. +Mary was waiting demurely in the path. + +"It was perfect," he said, breaking the awkward silence. + +"Any one could dance to that music," was her reply. + +Silently they began their return. An old woman sat in her cabin door, a +fire of chunks making a red spot in the gloom behind. + +"We go to-morrow, Aunt Sylla. Is it for good or ill?" The woman was old +and wrinkled. She was the focus of all local superstition; one of the +ante-bellum voodoos. If her pewter spoons had been gold, her few beads +diamonds, she might have left the doors unbarred without danger. + +Mary had paused and asked the question to draw out the odd character for +her friend. + +"In the woods the clocks of heaven strike 11! Jeffers, who was never +born, speaks out," was the strange reply. + +"In the woods," said Mary, thoughtfully, "the dew drips tinkling from +the leaves; Jeffers, the redbird, was never born, but hatched. What does +he say, Aunt Sylla?" The woman was trying to light her pipe. Absence of +tobacco was the main cause of her failure. Edward crushed a cigar and +handed it to her. When she had lighted it she lifted the blazing chunk +and her faded eyes looked steadily upon the young man. + +"He says the gentleman will come some day and bring much tobacco." The +girl laughed, but the darkness hid her blushes. + +"In the meantime," said Edward cheerfully, placing a silver coin in her +hand, "you can tell your friend Jeffers that you are supplied." + +The negro's prophecy is usually based on shrewd guesses. Sylla grasped +the coin with the eagerness of a child receiving a new doll. She pointed +her finger at him and looked to the girl. Mary laughed. + +"Keep still a moment, Mr. Morgan," she said, "I must rob you." + +She took a strand or two of his hair between her little fingers and +plucked them out. Edward would not have flinched had there been fifty. +"Now something you have worn--what can it be? Oh, a button." She took +his penknife and cut from his coat sleeve one of its buttons. "There, +Aunt Sylla, if you are not successful with them I shall never forgive +you." The old woman took the hair and the button and relapsed into +silent smoking. + +"I am a little curious to know what she is going to do with those +things," said Edward. Mary looked at him shyly. + +"She is going to protect you," she said. "She will mix a little ground +glass and a drop of chicken blood with them, and sew all in a tiny bag. +No negro alive or dead would touch you then for the universe, and should +you touch one of them with that charm it would give them catalepsy. You +will get it to-morrow." + +"She is arming me with a terrible power at small cost," he replied, +dryly. + +"Old Sylla is a prophetess," said the girl, "as well as a voodoo, and +there is with us a tradition that death in the family will follow her +every visit to the house. It is strange, but within our memory it has +proved true. My infant brother, my only sister, mamma's brother, papa's +sister, an invalid northern cousin spending the winter here--all their +deaths were preceded by the appearance of old Sylla." + +"And is her success in prophecy as marked?" + +"Yes, so far as I know." She hesitated a moment. "Her prediction as to +myself has not had time to mature." + +"And what was the prediction?" + +"That some day a stranger would carry me into a strange land," she said, +smiling; "and--break my heart." + +They had reached the gate; except where the one light burned in the +sitting-room all was darkness and silence. Edward said gently, as he +stood holding open the gate: + +"I am a stranger and shortly I will take you into a strange land, but +may God forget me if I break your heart." She did not reply, but with +face averted passed in. The household was asleep. She carried the lamp +to his door and opened it. He took it and then her hand. For a moment +they looked into each other's eyes; then, gravely lifting the little +hand, he kissed it. + +"May God forget me," he said again, "if I break your heart." He held the +door open until she had passed down the stairs, her flushed face never +lifted again to his. + +And then with the shutting of the door came darkness. But in the gloom a +white figure came from the front doorway, stood listening at the stairs +and then as noiseless as a sunbeam glided down into the hall below. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +BARKSDALE'S WARNING. + + +Edward was awakened by a cowhorn blown just before the peep of day and +the frantic baying of the hounds that Charlie Possum was bringing to the +house. As he dressed and came forth the echos of horses' feet were heard +in the distance upon the public roads and the cry of other hounds, and +as the gray dawn lighted the east the outer yard presented an animated +scene. About a dozen riders were dismounting or dismounted were trying +to force a place between the multitude of dogs, great and small, that +were settling old and new disputes rough and tumble, tooth and toe nail. + +There was little of the holiday attire that is usually seen at club +meets; the riders wore rough clothing and caps and their small slender +horses were accoutered with saddles and bridles that had been distinctly +"worn." But about all was a business air and promise of genuine sport. +Many of the dogs were of the old "July" stock, descendants of a famous +Maryland dog of 40 years before, whose progeny scattered throughout +Georgia constitute canine aristocracy wherever found--a slender-flanked, +fullchested animal, with markings of black and tan. Among them were +their English rivals of larger form and marked with blotches of red and +white. + +The servants were busy getting light refreshments for the riders. Mary +was the superintendent of this, but at the same time she was presiding +over a ceremony dear to the old south at all hours of the day. Into each +generous cut glass goblet that lined her little side table she poured a +few spoonsful of sweetened water, packing them with crushed ice. Down +through the little arctic heaps, a wineglassful of each, she poured a +ruby liquor grown old in the deep cellar, and planted above the radiated +pyramids little forests of mint. Nothing but silver is worthy to hold +such works of art, and so getting out an old, well-worn Montjoy silver, +its legend and crest almost faded into the general smoothness of their +background, she placed them there and began her ministry in the long +dining room. She made a pretty picture as she passed among the men, her +short, narrowskirted riding dress and little felt hat setting off her +lithe, active form perfectly. The ceremony was simple and short. +Everybody was eager to be off. + +Just as they mounted and rode out, Mary appeared from somewhere, mounted +upon a half broken colt, that betrayed a tendency to curve herself into +a half-moon, and gallop broadside against fences and trees that were +inconveniently located. + +Edward viewed the mount with alarm. Though a fairly good rider, he was +not up to cross country runs and he questioned his ability to be of much +assistance should the half broken animal bolt, with its fair burden. He +proposed an exchange, but Mary laughed at the idea. + +"Lorna is all right," she said, "but you could never get her out of the +yard. She will steady up after awhile, and the best of horses can't beat +her in getting round corners and over fences." + +"Daughter," said the colonel, checking his horse as he prepared to +follow, "are you sure of Lorna?" + +"Perfectly. She is going to do her worst for a while and then her best. +Steady girl; don't disgrace yourself before company." Lorna danced and +tossed her head and chewed upon her bit with impatience. + +At that moment Barksdale rode into the yard, mounted upon a tall +thoroughbred, his equipments perfect, dress elegant, seat easy and +carriage erect. He seemed to Edward a perfect horseman. He gravely +saluted them both. + +"I see that I am in the nick of time, Miss Mary; I was afraid it was +late." + +"It is late," said the girl, "but this time it is a cat and doesn't +matter. The scent will lie long after sun-up." They were following then +and the conversation was difficult. Already the dark line of men was +disappearing down the line in its yet unbroken shadow. A mile away the +party turned into the low grounds and here the general met them riding +his great roan and, as always when mounted, having the appearance of an +officer on parade. He came up to the three figures in the rear and +saluted them cheerily. His old spirits seemed to have returned. + +They entered into a broad valley that had been fallow for several years. +Along the little stream that threaded its way down the middle with +zigzag indecision, grew the southern cane from 6 to 15 feet high; the +mass a hundred yards broad in places, and at others narrowing down to +fords. This cane growing erect is impenetrable for horses. The rest of +the valley, half a mile wide, was grown up in sage, broomstraw, little +pines and briars. + +The general shape of the ground was that of the letter Y, the stem being +the creek, and the arms its two feeders leading in from the hills. To +start at the lower end of the letter, travel up and out one arm to its +end, and return to the starting point, meant an eight mile ride, if the +cat kept to the cane as was likely. It was a mile across from arm to +arm, without cover except about an acre of sparse, low cane half way +between. When Mary came up to the leading riders, with her escort, they +were discussing a fact that all seemed to regard as significant. One of +the old dogs, "Leader," had uttered a sharp, quick yelp. All other dogs +were focusing toward her; their dark figures visible here and there as +they threaded the tangled way. Suddenly an angry, excited baying in +shrill falsetto was heard, and Evan shouted: "That's my puppy Carlo! +Where are your English dogs?" + +"Wait," said one of the party. "The English dogs will be in at start and +finish." Suddenly "Leader" opened fullmouthed, a second ahead of her +puppy, and the next instant, pandemonium broke loose. Forty-seven dogs +were racing in full cry up the stream. A dozen excited men were +following, with as much noise and skill as they could command. + +"A cat, by ----" exclaimed one of the neighbors. "I saw him!" Barksdale +led the way for the little group behind. Edward could have closed in, +but his anxiety for the girl was now developed into genuine fear. The +tumult was the signal for Lorna to begin a series of equine +calisthenics, more distinguished for violence than beauty. For she +planted her heels in the face of nature repeatedly, seemingly in an +impartial determination to destroy all the cardinal points of the +compass. This exercise she varied with agile leaps upward, and bunching +of feet as she came down. + +Edward was about to dismount to take hold of her when Lorna, probably +discerning that it was unnecessary to get rid of her rider before +joining the rout, went past him like a leaf upon a hurricane. He planted +spurs in his horse's side and followed with equal speed, but she was now +far ahead. He saw her skim past Barksdale, and that gentleman with but a +slight motion of his knees increased his speed. And then Lorna and the +thoroughbred went straight into the wall of cane, but instead of a +headlong plunge and a mixture of human being and struggling animal +floundering in the break, he simply saw--nothing. The pair went out of +sight like an awkwardly snuffed candle. + +He had no time to wonder; the next instant he was going through a hog +path in the cane, the tall stems rattling madly against his knees, his +eyes dazed by the rushing past of so many near and separate points of +vision. Then he rose in air. There was a flash of water underneath and +down he came into the path. The open world burst upon him again like a +beautiful picture. He only saw the flying figure of the girl upon a mad +colt. Was she trying in vain to hold it? Would she lose her head? Would +her nerve forsake her? Heavens!! She is plying her whip with might and +main, and the man on the thoroughbred at her heels looks back over his +shoulder into Edward's white face and smiles. Then they disappear into +the green wall again and again the world is reborn on the other side. + +The pace tells. One by one Edward passes the riders. The old general +comes up at last. As Mary goes by, he gives what Edward supposes to be +the old rebel yell of history and then they are out of the end of one +arm of the Y and heading for the clump of cane. + +There has been little dodging. With so many dogs plunging up both sides +of the creek, and picking up its trail as he crossed and re-crossed, the +cat had finally to adopt a straightaway program as the cover would +permit. If it dodged once in this little bit of small cane it was lost. +It did not dodge. It went straight into the end of the other arm of the +Y and to the astonishment of all the hunters apparently went out again +and across a sedge field toward the hills. + +It was then a straight race of half a mile and the dogs won. They +snarled and pulled and fought around the carcass, when Lorna went +directly over them and was "sawed up" at the edge of the woods 50 yards +further. One of the hunters jumped down and plucked the carcass from the +dogs and held it up. It was a gray fox. The dogs had run over him in the +little cane and indulged in a view chase. The cat was elsewhere! + +Exclamations of disgust were heard on all sides and Evan looked +anxiously among the gathering dogs. + +"Where is Carlo?" he asked of several. "Has anybody seen Carlo?" Nobody +had, apparently; but at that moment in the distance, down the arm of the +Y which Reynard had crossed, they heard a sharp, puppyish cry, +interspersed with the fuller voicings of an old dog. + +"There is Carlo!" shouted the old gentleman in a stentorian voice. "And +Leader," interpolated Montjoy. + +"Come on with your English dogs! Ha, ha, ha!" and Evan was gone. But +Lorna was done for the day. She distinctly refused to become enthused +any more. She had carried her rider first in at the death in one race +and the bush had been handed to Mary. Lorna responded to the efforts to +force her, by indulging in her absurd half-moon antics. Barksdale and +Edward turned back. + +"It will come around on the same circuit," said Barksdale, speaking of +the cat; "let us ride out into the open space and see it." They took +position and listened. Two miles away, about at the fork of the Y, they +could hear the echo of the tumult. If the cat went down the main stem +the day was probably spoiled; if it came back up the other branch as +before, they were in good position. + +Nearer and nearer came the rout and then the dogs swarmed all over the +lone acre of cane. The animal had dodged back from the horsemen standing +there and was now surrounded. + +The dogs ran here and there trotting along outside the cane careless and +fagged suddenly became animated again and sprang upon a crouching form, +whose eyeballs could even from a distance, be seen to roll and glare +frightfully. There was one motion, the yelping puppy went heels over +head with a wound from neck to hip, and Carlo had learned to respect the +wild cat. But the next instant a dozen dogs were rolling in horrid +combat with the animal and then a score were pulling at the gray and tan +form that offered no more resistance. + +"Thirty-five pounds," said an expert, holding up the dead cat. A front +foot was cut off and passed up for examination. It was as large as a +man's fist and the claws were like the talons of a condor. + +The general was down, examining the wound of poor Carlo, and, all +rivalry cast aside, the experienced hunters closed in to help him. It +was not a question now of Maryland or England; a puppy that would hold a +trail when abandoned by a pack of old dogs whom it was accustomed to +follow and rely upon its own judgment as to wherein lay its duty, and +first of all, after a 16 mile run, plants its teeth in the quarry--was +now more than a puppy. Ask any old fox hunter and he will prophesy that +from the day of the killing of the cat, whenever Carlo opened in a hunt, +no matter how much the other dogs might be interested, they would +suspend judgment and flock to him. That day made Carlo a Napoleon among +canines. + +Edward was an interested observer of the gentle surgery being practiced +upon the dog. At length he ventured to ask a question. "What is his +name, General?" + +"Carlo." + +"And I presume he is not what you call an English dog?" + +The general looked at him fiercely; then his features relaxed. "Go away, +Edward, go away--and give the dog a chance." + +Barksdale had ridden to one side with Mary and was gravely studying the +scene. Presently he said abruptly: + +"When is it you leave for Europe?" + +"To-morrow." + +"There is a matter pending," he said quietly, "that renders it +peculiarly unfortunate." She regarded him with surprise. "What I say is +for you alone. I know Mr. Morgan has been out here for several days and +has probably not been made aware of what is talked in town." Briefly he +acquainted her with the rumors afloat and seeing her deep concern and +distress added: "The affair is trivial with Mr. Morgan; he can easily +silence the talk, but in his absence, if skillfully managed, it can +affect his reputation seriously." + +"Skillfully managed?" + +"Do you suppose that Mr. Morgan is without enemies?" + +"Who could be his enemy?" She asked quickly, then flushed and was +silent. + +"I will not risk an injustice to innocent people," he said slowly, "but +he has enemies, I leave it to you to decide whether to acquaint him with +what is going on or not. I do not even advise you. But I came on this +hunt to acquaint you with the situation. If the man whom I suspect is +guilty in this matter he will not leave a stone unturned to destroy his +rival. It is nearer home from this point than from the hall and I have +business waiting. Good-bye." + +He saluted Morgan, who was approaching, and went rapidly away. Mary rode +home in silence, returning only monosyllables to her escort. But when +she spoke of being doubtful of their ability to get ready by morning and +Edward proposed to cancel his order for berths, she hesitated. After all +the affair was ridiculous. She let it pass from her mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +THE HIDDEN HAND. + + +It matters little what kind of seed is planted, it finds its proper +elements in the soil. So with rumors. There is never a rumor so wild, +but that finds a place for its roots. + +It soon reached the coroner, that zealous officer whose compensation is +based upon fees, that his exchequer had been defrauded by the improper +burial of a woman out at Ilexhurst. She had dropped dead, and there had +not been a witness. An inquest was proper; was necessary. He began an +investigation. And then appeared in the brevity columns of one of the +papers the incipient scandal: + +"It is whispered that suspicions of foul play are entertained in +connection with Rita, the housekeeper of the late John Morgan at +Ilexhurst. The coroner will investigate." + +And the next day the following: + +"Our vigilant coroner has made inquiry into the death and burial of Rita +Morgan, and feels that the circumstances demand a disinterment and +examination of the body. So far the rumors of foul play come from +negroes only. It seems that Mr. Edward Morgan found the woman lying in +his yard, and that she died almost immediately after the discovery. It +was upon the night but one preceding his meeting with Mr. Royson on the +field of honor, and during his absence next day the body was hurriedly +interred. There is little doubt that the woman came to her death from +natural causes, but it is known that she had few if any friends among +her race, and other circumstances attending her demise are such that the +body will be disinterred and examined for evidence." + +Even this did not especially interest the public. But when next day the +morning papers came out with triple headlines the first of which was +"Murdered," followed by a succinct account of the disinterment of Rita +Morgan, as she was called, with the discovery of a cut on the left +temple and a wound in the back of the head that had crushed in the +skull, the public was startled. No charge was made against Edward +Morgan, no connection hinted at, but it was stated in the history of the +woman, that she was the individual referred to in Royson's famous letter +on which the duel had been fought, and that she died suddenly upon the +day it was published. The paper said that it was unfortunate that Mr. +Morgan had left several days before for Paris, and had sailed that +morning from New York. + +Then the public tongue began to wag and the public mind to wait +impatiently for the inquest. + +The inquest was held in due form. The surgeons designated to examine the +supposed wounds reported them genuine, the cut in the temple trifling, +the blow in the back of the head sufficient to have caused death. + +A violent discussion ensued when the jury came to make up its verdict, +but the conservative members carried the day. A verdict of "death by a +blow upon the head by a weapon in the hands of a person or persons +unknown to the jury" was rendered; the body reinterred and the crowds of +curiosity seekers withdrew from Ilexhurst. + +Unfortunately during the era of excitement Gerald was locked in his +room, lost in the contemplation of some question of memory that had come +upon him, and he was not summoned as a witness, from the fact that in no +way had he been mentioned in the case, except by Gen. Evan, who +testified that he was asleep when the death occurred. The German +professor and Gen. Evan were witnesses and gave their testimony readily. + +Evan explained that, although present at the finding of the body, he +left immediately to meet a gentleman who had called, and did not return. +When asked as to Edward's actions he admitted that they were excited, +but stated that other matters, naming them briefly, were engaging them +at the same time and that they were of a disturbing nature. The woman, +he said, had first attracted Edward's attention by falling against the +glass, which she was evidently looking through, and which she broke in +her fall. If she was struck, it was probably at that moment. + +He was positive in his belief that at the time the sound of falling +glass was heard Edward was in the room, but he would not state it under +oath as a fact. It was this evidence that carried the day. + +When asked where was Edward Morgan and the reason for his absence, he +said that he had gone as the escort of Mrs. Montjoy to Paris, where her +eyes were to be examined, and that the trip had been contemplated for +several weeks. Also that he would return in less than a month. + +Nevertheless, the gravest of comments began to be heard upon the +streets, and prophecies were plenty that Edward would never return. + +And into these began to creep a word now and then for Royson. "He knew +more than he could prove," "was the victim of circumstances," "a bold +fellow," etc., were fragments of conversation connected with his name. + +"We fought out that issue once," he said, briefly, when asked directly +about the character of the woman Rita, "and it is settled so far as I am +concerned." And the public liked the answer. + +No charge, however, had been brought against Edward Morgan; the matter +was simply one that disturbed the public; it wanted his explanation and +his presence. But behind it all, behind the hesitancy which the stern, +open championship of Evan and Montjoy commanded, lay the proposition +that of all people in the world only Edward Morgan could have been +benefited by the death of the woman; that he was the only person present +and that she died a violent death. And people would talk. + +Then came a greater shock. A little paper, the Tell-Tale, published in +an adjoining city and deriving its support from the publication of +scandals, in which the victim was described without naming, was cried +upon the street. Copies were sold by the hundreds, then thousands. It +practically charged that Edward Morgan was the son of Rita Morgan; that +upon finding Royson possessed of his secret he first killed the woman +and then tried to kill that gentleman in a duel into which Morgan went +with everything to gain and nothing to lose; that upon seeing the storm +gathering he had fled the country, under the pretense of escorting a +very estimable young lady and her mother abroad, the latter going to +have her eyes examined by a Parisian expert, the celebrated Moreau. + +It proceeded further; the young man had completely hoodwinked and +deceived the family to which these ladies belonged, and, it was +generally understood, would some day become the husband and son-in-law. +Every sensational feature that could be imagined was brought out--even +Gerald did not escape. He was put in as the legitimate heir of John +Morgan; the child of a secret marriage, a _non compos mentis_ whose +property was being enjoyed by the other. + +The excitement in the city reached white heat. Col. Montjoy and Gen. +Evan came out in cards and denounced the author of the letter an +infamous liar, and made efforts to bring the editor of the sheet into +court. He could not be found. + +Days slipped by, and then came the climax! One of the sensational papers +of New York published a four-column illustrated article headed "A +Southern Tragedy," which pretended to give the history of all the +Morgans for fifty years or more. In this story the writer displayed +considerable literary ability, and the situations were dramatically set +forth. Pictures of Ilexhurst were given; the murder of a negro woman in +the night and a fancy sketch of Edward. The crowning shame was bold +type. No such sensation had been known since the race riots of 1874. + +In reply to this Montjoy and Evan also telegraphed fiery denunciations +and demanded the author's name. Their telegrams were published, and +demands treated with contempt. Norton Montjoy, in New York, had himself +interviewed by rival papers, gave the true history of Morgan and +denounced the story in strong terms. He consulted lawyers and was +informed that the Montjoys had no right of action. + +Court met and the grand jury conferred. Here was evidence of murder, and +here was a direct published charge. In vain Evan and Virdow testified +before it. The strong influence of the former could not carry the day. +The jury itself was political. It was part of the Swearingen ring. When +it had completed its labors and returned its batch of bills, it was +known in a few hours that Edward Morgan had been indicted for the murder +of Rita Morgan. + +Grief and distress unspeakable reigned in the houses of Gen. Evan and +Col. Montjoy, and in his bachelor quarters that night one man sat with +his face upon his hands and thought out all of the details of the sad +catastrophe. An unspeakable sorrow shone in his big eyes. Barksdale had +been touched in the tenderest part of his life. Morgan he admired and +respected, but the name of the woman he loved had been bespattered with +mud. With him there rested no duty. Had the circumstances been +different, there would have been a tragedy at the expense of his last +dollar--and he was rich. + +At the expense even of his enterprise and his business reputation, he +would have found the author of those letters and have shot him to death +at the door of a church, if necessary. There is one point on which the +south has suffered no change. + +Morgan, he felt, would do the same, but now, alas, Morgan was indicted +for another murder, and afterward it would be too late. Too late! He +sprang to his feet and gave vent to a frightful malediction; then he +grew calm through sheer astonishment. Without knock or inquiry his door +was thrown open and Gerald Morgan rushed into the room. + +When Barksdale had last seen this man he doubted his ability to stand +the nervous strain put upon him, but here was evidence of an excitement +tenfold greater. Gerald quivered like an overtaxed engine, and deep in +the pale face the blazing eyes shone with a horrible fierceness. The cry +he uttered as he paused before Barksdale was so unearthly that he +unconsciously drew back. The young man was unrolling some papers. Upon +them were the scenes of the grave as he drew them--the open coffin, the +shrunken face of the woman--and then, in all its repulsive exactness, +the face of the man who had turned upon the artist under the electric +light! + +"What does it mean, my friend?" said Barksdale, seeking by a forced +calmness to reduce the almost irrational visitor to reason again. + +"What?" exclaimed Gerald; "don't you understand? The man uncovered that +coffin; he struck that blow upon poor dead Rita's head! I saw him face +to face and drew those pictures that night. There is the date." + +"You saw him?" Barksdale could not grasp the truth for an instant. + +"I saw him!" + +"Where is he now?" + +"I do not know; I do not know!" A thrill ran through the now eager man, +and he felt that instead of calming the excitement of his visitor he was +getting infected by it. He sat down deliberately. + +"Take a seat, Mr. Morgan, and tell me about it." But Gerald dropped the +pictures and stood over them. + +"There was the grave," he said, "and the man was down in it; I stood up +here and lifted a spade, but then he had struck and was arranging her +hair. If he had struck her again I would have killed him. I wanted to +see what it was about. I wanted to see the man. He fled, and then I +followed. Downtown I saw him under an electric light and got his face. +He was the man, the infamous, cowardly scoundrel who struck poor Rita in +her coffin; but why--why should any one want to strike Rita? I can't +see. I can't see. And then to charge Edward with it!" + +Barksdale's blood ran cold during the recital, the scene so vividly +pictured, the uncanny face before him. It was horrible. But over all +came the realization that some hidden hand was deliberately striking at +the life of Edward Morgan through the grave of the woman. The +cowardliness, the infamy, the cruelty was overpowering. He turned away +his face. + +But the next instant he was cool. It was a frail and doubtful barrier +between Edward and ruin, this mind unfolding its secret. If it failed +there was no other witness. + +"What became of the man, did you say?" + +"I do not know. I wanted his face; I got it." + +"Where did you last see him?" + +"On the street." Barksdale arose deliberately. + +"Mr. Morgan, how did you come here?" + +"I suppose I walked. I want you to help me find the man who struck the +blow." + +"You are right, we must find the man. Now, I have a request to make. +Edward trusted to my judgment in the other affair, and it came out +right, did it not?" + +"Yes. That is why I have come to you." + +"Trust me again. Go home now and take that picture. Preserve it as you +would your life, for on it may hang the life of Edward Morgan. You +understand? And do not open your lips on this subject to any one until I +see you again." + +Gerald rolled up the paper and turned away abruptly. Barksdale followed +him down the steps and called a hack. + +"Your health," he said to Gerald, as he gently forced him into the +carriage, "must not be risked." And to the driver, slipping a fee in his +hand: "Take Mr. Morgan to Ilexhurst. Remember, Mr. Morgan," he called +out. + +"I remember," was the reply. "I never forget. Would to God I could." + +Barksdale walked rapidly to the livery stable. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +WITH THE WOMAN WHO LOVED HIM. + + +Edward Morgan gave himself up to the dream. The flying train sped +onward, out of the pine forest, into the hills and the shadow of +mountains, into the broad world of life and great cities. + +They had the car almost to themselves, for the northward travel is small +at that season. + +Before him was the little woman of the motherly face and smooth, soft +hand, and behind her, lost in the contemplation of the light literature +with which he had surrounded her, was the girl about whom all the +tendrils of his hungry life were twining. He could see her half-profile, +the contour of the smooth cheek, the droop of eyelid, the fluff of curly +hair over her brow, and the shapely little head. He was content. + +It was a novel and suggestive situation. And yet--only a dream. No +matter how far he wandered, how real seemed the vision, it always ended +there--it was but a dream, a waking dream. He had at last no part in her +life; he would never have. + +And yet again, why not? The world was large; he felt its largeness as +they rushed from center to center, saw the teeming crowds here, the +far-stretching farms and dwellings there. The world was large, and they +were at best but a man and a woman. If she loved him what did it matter? +It meant only a prolonged and indefinite stay abroad in the land he best +knew; all its pleasures, its comforts, his--and hers. + +If only she loved him! He lived over every minute detail of their short +companionship, from the hour he saw her, the little madonna, until he +kissed her hand and promised unnecessarily that he would never break her +heart. A strange comfort followed this realization. Come what might, +humiliation, disgrace, separation, she loved him! + +His fixed gaze as he dreamed had its effect; she looked up from her +pictures and back to him. + +A rush of emotions swept away his mood; he rose almost angrily; it was a +question between him and his Savior only. God had made the world and +named its holiest passion love, and if they loved blindly, foolishly, +fatally, God, not he, was to blame. He went and sat by her. + +"You puzzle me sometimes," she said. "You are animated and bright +and--well, charming often--and then you seem to go back into your shell +and hide. I am afraid you are not happy, Mr. Morgan." + +"Not happy? Hardly. But then no bachelor can be quite happy," he added, +returning her smile. + +"I should think otherwise," she answered. "When I look about among my +married friends I sometimes wonder why men ever marry. They seem to +surrender so much for so little. I am afraid if I were a bachelor there +isn't a woman living whom I would marry--not if she had the wealth of +Vanderbilt." + +Edward laughed outright. + +"If you were a bachelor," he answered, "you would not have such +thoughts." + +"I don't see why," she said trying to frown. + +"Because you are not a bachelor." + +"Then," she said, mockingly, "I suppose I never will--since I can't be a +bachelor." + +"The mystery to me," said Edward, "is why women ever marry." + +"Because they love," answered the girl. "There is no mystery about +that." + +"But they take on themselves so much care, anxiety, suffering." + +"Love can endure that." + +"And how often it means--death!" + +"And that, too, love does not consider. It would not hesitate if it knew +in advance." + +"You speak for yourself?" + +"Yes, indeed. If I loved, I am afraid I would love blindly, recklessly. +It is the way of Montjoy women--and they say I am all Montjoy." + +"Would you follow barefooted and in rags from city to city behind a man, +drunken and besotted, to sing upon the streets for a crust and sleep +under a hedge, his chances your chances, and you with no claim upon him +save that you loved him once? I have seen it." She shook her head. + +"The man I loved could never sink so low. He would be a gentleman, proud +of his name, of his talents, of his honor. If misfortune came he would +starve under the first hedge before he would lead me out to face a +scornful world. And if it were misfortune only I would sing for +him--yes, if necessary, beg, unknown to him for money to help him in +misfortune. Only let him keep the manliness within him undimmed by act +of his." He gazed into her glowing face. + +"I thank you," he said. "I never understood a true woman's heart +before." + +The express rushed into new and strange scenes. There were battlefields +pointed out by the conductor--mere landscapes only the names of which +were thrilling. Manassas glided by, the birthplace of a great hope that +perished. How often she had heard her father and the general tell of +that battle! + +And then the white shaft of the Washington monument, and the capitol +dome rose in the distance. + +As they glided over the long bridge across the Potomac and touched the +soil of the capital city and the street lights went past, the young +woman viewed the scenes with intense interest. Washington! But for that +infamous assault upon her father, through the man who had been by her +side, he would have walked the streets again, a Southern congressman! + +They took rooms to give the little mamma a good night's rest, and then, +with the same unconventional freedom of the hall, Mary wandered out with +Edward to view the avenue. They went and stood at the foot of that great +white pile which closes one end of the avenue, and were awed into +silence by its grandeur. + +She would see grander sights, but never one that would impress her more. +She thought of her father alone, away back in Georgia, at the old home, +sitting just then upon the porch smoking his pipe. Perhaps the Duchess +was asleep in his lap, perhaps the general had come over to keep him +company, and if so they were talking of the absent ones. Edward saw her +little hand lightly laid upon her eyes for a moment, and comprehended. + +Morning! And now the crowded train sweeps northward through the great +cities and opens up bits of marine views. For the first time the girl +sees a stately ship, with wings unfurled, "go down into the seas," +vanishing upon the hazy horizon, "like some strain of sweet melody +silenced and made visible," as Edward quoted from a far-away poet +friend. + +"And if you will watch it intently," he added, "and forget yourself you +will lose sight of the ship and hear again the melody." And then came +almost endless streets of villages and towns, the smoke of factories, +the clamor and clangor of life massed in a small compass, a lull of the +motion, hurrying crowds and the cheery, flushed face of Norton pressed +to his mother's and to hers. + +The first stage of the journey was over. Across the river rose, in dizzy +disorder and vastness, New York. + +The men clasped hands and looked each other in the eyes, Montjoy +smiling, Morgan grave. It seemed to the latter that the smile of his +friend meant nothing; that behind it lay anxiety, questioning. He did +not waver under the look, and in a moment the hand that held his +tightened again. Morgan had answered. Half the conversation of life is +carried on without words. Morgan had answered, but he could not forget +his friend's questioning gaze. Nor could he forget that his friend had a +wife. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +THE SONG THE OCEAN SANG. + + +The stay of the party in New York was short. Norton was busy with trade +that could not wait. He stole a part of a day, stuffed the pocketbooks +of the ladies with gold, showed them around and then at last they looked +from the deck of a "greyhound" and saw the slopes of Staten island and +the highlands sink low upon the horizon. + +The first night at sea! The traveler never forgets it. Scenes of the +past may shine through it like ink renewed in the dimmed lines of a +palimpsest through later records, but this night stands supreme as if it +were the sum of all. For in this night the fatherland behind and the +heart grown tender in the realization of its isolation, come back again +the olden experiences. Dreams that have passed into the seas of eternity +meet it and shine again. Old loves return and fold their wings, and +hopes grown wrinkled with disappointment throw off dull Time's imprints +and are young once more. + +To the impressionable heart of the girl, the vastness and the solemnity +brought strange thoughts. She stood by the rail, silenced, sad, but not +with the sadness that oppresses. By her was the man who through life's +hidden current had brought her all unknowing into harmony with the +eternal echos rising into her consciousness. + +At last she came back to life's facts. She found her hand in his again, +and gently, without protest, disengaged it. Her face was white and fixed +upon nothingness. + +"Of what are you thinking?" she asked, gently. He started and drew +breath with a gasp. + +"I do not know--of you, I suppose." And then, as she was silent and +embarrassed: "There is a tone in the ocean, a note I have never heard +before, and I have listened on all seas. But here is the new song +different from all. I could listen forever." + +"I have read somewhere," she said, "that all the sound waves escape to +the ocean. They jostle and push against each other where men abound, the +new crowding out the old; but out at sea there is room for all. It may +be that you hear only as your heart is attuned." + +He nodded his head, pleased greatly. + +"Then I have heard to-night," he said, earnestly, "a song of a woman to +the man she loves." + +"But you could not have heard it unless your heart was attuned to love's +melodies. Have you ever loved a woman, Mr. Morgan?" + +He started and his hand tightened upon the guard. + +"I was a boy in heart when I went abroad," he said. "I had never known a +woman's love and sympathy. In Switzerland a little girl gave me a glass +of goat's milk at a cottage door in the mountains. She could not have +been more than 12 years old. I heard her singing as I approached, her +voice marvelous in its power and pathos. Her simple dress was artistic, +her face frank and eyes confiding. I loved her. I painted her picture +and carried her both in my heart and my satchel for three years. I did +not love her and yet I believed I did. But I think that I must have +loved at some time. As you say, I could not have heard if it were not +so." He drew her away and sought the cabin. But when he said good-night +he came and walked the deck for an hour, and once he tossed his arms +above him and cried out in agony: "I cannot! I cannot! The heart was not +made for such a strain!" + + * * * * * + +Six times they saw the sun rise over the path ahead, ascend to the +zenith and sink away, and six times the endless procession of stars +glinted on the myriad facets of the sea. The hundreds of strange faces +about them grew familiar, almost homelike. The ladies made +acquaintances; but Edward none. When they were accessible he never left +their presence, devoting himself with tender solicitude to their +service, reading to them, reciting bits of adventure, explaining the +phenomena of the elements, exhibiting the ship and writing in their +journals the record for the father at home. When they were gone he +walked the deck silent, moody, sad; alone in the multitude. + +People had ceased to interest him. Once only did he break the silence; +from the ship's orchestra he borrowed a violin, and standing upon the +deck, as at first, he found the love-song again and linked it forever +with his life. It was the ocean's gift and he kept it. + +He thought a great deal, but from the facts at home he turned +resolutely. They should not mar the only summer of his heart. "Not now," +he would say to these trooping memories. "After a while you may come and +be heard." + +But of the future he thought and dreamed. He pictured a life with the +woman he loved, in every detail; discounting its pleasures, denying the +possibility of sorrow. There were times when with her he found himself +wishing to be alone that he might review the dream and enlarge it. It +ceased to be a dream, it became a fact, he lived with it and he lived by +it. It was possible no longer; it was certain. Some day he would begin +it; he would tell it to her and make it so beautiful she would consent. + +All this time the elder lady thought, listened and knitted. She was one +of those gentle natures not made for contentions, but for soothing. She +was never idle. Edward found himself watching the busy needles as they +fought for the endless thread, and marveled. What patience! What +continuity! What endurance! + +The needles of good women preach as they labor. He knew the history of +these. For forty years they had labored, those bits of steel in the +velvet fingers. Husband, children, slaves, all had felt upon their feet +the soft summings of their calculations. One whole company of soldiers, +the gallant company her husband had led into Confederate service, had +threaded the Wilderness in her socks, and died nearly all at Malvern +Hill. Down deep under the soil of the old Mother State they planted her +work from sight, and the storms of winter removed its imprints where, +through worn and wasted leather, it had touched virgin soil as the +bleeding survivors came limping home. Forty years had stilled the +thought on which it was based. It was strong and resolute still. Some +day the needles would rust out of sight, the hands be folded in rest and +the thought would be gone. Edward glanced from the woman to the girl. + +"Not so," he said, softly; "the thought will live. Other hands trained +under its sweet ministry will take up the broken threads; the needles +will flash again. Woman's work is never done, and never will be while +love and faith and courage have lodgment upon earth. + +"Did you speak, Mr. Morgan?" + +"Possibly. I have fallen into the habit of thinking aloud. And I was +thinking of you; it must have been a great privilege to call you mother, +Mrs. Montjoy." She smiled a little. + +"I am glad you think so." + +"I have never called any by that name," he said, slowly, looking away. +"I never knew a mother." + +"That will excuse a great many things in a man's life," she said, in +sympathy. "You have no remembrance, then?" + +"None. She died when I was an infant, I suppose, and I grew up, +principally, in schools." + +"And your father?" + +"He also--died." He was reckless for the moment. "Sometimes I think I +will ask you to let me call you--mother. It is late to begin, but think +of a man's living and dying without once speaking the name to a woman." + +"Call me that if you will. You are certainly all that a son could be to +me." + +"Mother," he said, reflectively, "mother," and then looking toward Mary +he saw that, though reading, her face was crimson; "that gives me a +sister, does it not?" he added, to relieve the situation. She glanced +toward him, smiling. + +"As you will, brother Edward--how natural." + +"I like the mother better," he said, after a pause. "I have observed +that brothers do not wear well. I should hate to see the day when it +would not be a pleasure to be with you, Miss Montjoy." He could not +control nor define his mood. + +"Then," she said, with eyes upon the book, "let it not be brother. I +would be sorry to see you drift away--we are all your friends." + +"Friends!" He repeated the word contemplatively. "That is another word I +am not fond of. I have seen so many friends--not my own, but friends of +others! Friends steal your good name, your opportunities, your +happiness, your time and your salvation. Oh, friendship!" + +"What is the matter with you to-day, Mr. Morgan?" said Mary. "I don't +think I ever saw you in just such a frame of mind. What has made you +cynical?" + +"Am I cynical? I did not know it. Possibly I am undergoing a +metamorphosis. Such things occur about us every day. Have you ever seen +the locust, as he is called, come up out of the earth and attach himself +to a tree and hang there brooding, living an absolutely worthless life? +Some day a rent occurs down his own back and out comes the green cicada, +with iridescent wings; no longer a dull plodder, but now a swift +wanderer, merry and musical. So with the people about you. Useless and +unpicturesque for years, they some day suffer a change; a piece of good +luck, success in business; any of these can furnish sunlight, and the +change is born. Behold your clodhopper is a gay fellow." + +"But," said the girl, laughing, "the simile is poor; you do not see the +cicada go back from the happy traveler stage and become a cynic." + +"True. What does become of him? Oh, yes; along comes the ichneumon fly +and by a skillful blow on the spine paralyzes him and then thrusts under +his skin an egg to be warmed into life by its departing heat. That is +the conclusion; your gay fellow and careless traveler gets an +overwhelming blow; an idea or a fact, or a bit of information to brood +upon; and some day it kills him." + +She was silent, trying to read the meaning in his words. What idea, what +fact, what overwhelming blow were killing him? Something, she was sure, +had disturbed him. She had felt it for weeks. + +Mrs. Montjoy expressed a desire to go to her stateroom, and Edward +accompanied her. The girl had ceased reading and sat with her chin in +hand, revolving the matter. After he had resumed his position she turned +to find his gaze upon her. They walked to the deck; the air was cold and +bracing. + +"I am sorry you are so opposed to sisters," she said, smiling. "If I +were a sister I would ask you to share your trouble with me." + +"What trouble?" + +"The trouble that is changing the careless traveler to a cynic--is +killing his better self." + +He ceased to speak in metaphor. "There is a trouble," he said, after +reflection; "but one beyond your power to remedy or lighten. Some day I +will tell it to you--but not now." + +"You do not trust me." + +"I do not trust myself." She was silent, looking away. She said no more. +Pale and trembling with suppressed emotion, he stood up. A look of +determination came into his eyes, and he faced her. At that moment a +faint, far cry was heard and every one in sight looked forward. + +"What is it?" asked a passenger, as the captain passed. + +"The cliffs of England," he said. Edward turned and walked away, leaving +her leaning upon the rail. He came back smoking. His mood had passed. + +The excitement had begun at once. On glided the good ship. Taller grew +the hills, shipping began to appear, and land objects to take shape. And +then the deep heart throbbing ceased and the glad voyagers poured forth +upon the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +THE DEATH OF GASPARD LEVIGNE. + + +Paris! + +With emotions difficult to appreciate Edward found himself at home, for +of all places Paris meant that to him. He went at once to his old +quarters; a suite of rooms in a quiet but accessible street, where was +combined something of both city and suburban life. The concierge almost +overwhelmed him with his welcome. + +In obedience to his letters, everything had been placed in order, books +and furniture dusted, the linen renewed, the curtains laundered and +stiffened anew, and on the little center table was a vase of crimson +roses--a contribution for madame and mademoiselle. + +His own, the larger room, was surrendered to the ladies; the smaller he +retained. There was the little parlor between, for common use. Outside +was the shady vista of the street and in the distance the murmur of the +city. + +Mrs. Montjoy was delighted with the arrangement and the scene. Mary +absorbed all the surroundings of the owner's past life; every picture, +every book and bit of bric-a-brac, all were parts of him and full of +interest. The very room seemed imbued with his presence. Here was his +shaded student's lamp, there the small upright piano, with its stack of +music and, in place ready for the player, an open sheet. It might have +been yesterday that he arose from its stool, walked out and closed the +door. + +It was a little home, and when coming into the parlor from his dressing +room, Edward saw her slender figure, he paused, and then the old +depression returned. + +She found him watching her, and noted the troubled look upon his face. + +"It is all so cozy and beautiful," she said. "I am so glad that you +brought us here rather than to a hotel." + +"And I, too, if you are pleased." + +"Pleased! It is simply perfect!" + +A note lay upon the center table. He noticed that it was addressed to +him, and, excusing himself, opened it and read: + + "M. Morgan. Benoni, the maestro, is ill and desires monsieur. + It will be well if monsieur comes quickly. + + "Annette." + +He rang the bell hurriedly and the concierge appeared. + +"This note," said Edward, speaking rapidly in French; "has it been long +here?" + +"Since yesterday. I sent it back, and they returned it. Monsieur is not +disappointed, I trust." Edward shook his head and was seeking his hat +and gloves. + +"You recall my old friend, the maestro, who gave me the violin," he +said, remembering Mary. "The note says he is very ill. It was sent +yesterday. Make my excuses to your mother; I will not stay long. If I do +not see you here, I will seek you over yonder in the park, where the +band may be playing shortly; and then we will find a supper." + +Walking rapidly to a cab stand he selected one with a promising horse, +and gave directions. He was carried at a rapid rate into the region of +the Quartier Latin and in a few moments found the maestro's home. + +One or two persons were by him when he entered the room, and they turned +and looked curiously. "Edward!" exclaimed the old man, lifting his +sightless eyes toward the door; "there is but one who steps like that!" + +Edward approached and took his hand. The sick man was sitting in his +arm-chair, wrapped in his faded dressing-gown. "My friends," he +continued, lifting his hand with a slight gesture of dismissal, "you +have been kind to Benoni; God will reward you; farewell!" + +The friends, one a woman of the neighborhood, the other the wife of the +concierge, came and touched his hand, and, bowing to Edward, withdrew, +lifting their white aprons to their faces as they passed from the room. + +"You are very ill," said Edward, placing his hand upon the old man's +arm; "I have just returned to Paris and came at once." + +"Very ill, indeed." He leaned back his head wearily. "It will soon be +over." + +"Have you no friends who should know of this, good Benoni; no relatives? +You have been silent upon this subject, and I have never questioned you. +I will bring them if you will let me." Benoni shook his head. + +"Never. I am to them already dead." A fit of coughing seized him, and he +became greatly exhausted. Upon the table was a small bottle containing +wine, left by one of the women. Edward poured out a draught and placed +it to the bloodless lips. + +"One is my wife," said the dying man, with sudden energy, "my own wife." + +"I will answer that she comes; she cannot refuse." + +"Refuse? No, indeed! She has been searching for me for a lifetime. Many +times she has looked upon me without recognition. She would come; she +has been here--she has been here!" + +"And did not know you? It is possible?" + +"She did not know." + +"You told her, though?" + +"No." + +"You never told her--" There was a pause. The sick man said, gasping: + +"I am a convict!" A cry of horror broke from the lips of the young man. +The old violinist resented his sudden start and exclamation. "But a +convict innocent. I swear it before my Maker!" Edward was deeply +touched. + +"None can doubt that who knows you, Benoni." + +"He threatened my life; he struck at me with his knife; I turned it on +him, and he fell dead. I did what I could; I was stanching the wound +when they seized me. His ring jewel had cut my face; but for that I +would have been executed. I had no friends, even my name was not my own. +I went to prison and labor for twenty years." + +He named the length of his sentence in a whisper. It was a horror he +could never understand. He stretched out his hand. "Wine." Again Edward +restored something of the fleeting strength. + +"She came," he said, "searching for me. I was blind then; they had been +careless with their blasting--my eyes were gone, my hair white, my face +scarred. She did not know me. Her voice was divine! Her name has been in +the mouths of all men. She came and sang at Christmas, to the prisoners, +the glorious hymns of her church, and she sang to me. It was a song that +none there knew but me--my song! Had she watched my face, then, she +would have known; but how could she suspect me, the blind, the scarred, +the gray? She passed out forever. And I, harmless, helpless, soon +followed--pardoned. I knew her name; I made my way to Paris to be near +that voice; and the years passed; I was poor and blind. It cost money to +hear her." + +Trembling with emotion, Edward whispered: "Her name?" Benoni shook his +head and slowly extended his withered arms. The woolen wristlets had +been removed, there were the white scars, the marks of the convict's +long-worn irons. + +"I have forgiven her; I will not bring her disgrace." + +"Cambia?" said Edward, unconsciously. There was a loud cry; the old man +half-rose and sank back, baffled by his weakness. + +"Hush! Hush!" he gasped; "it is my secret; swear to me you will keep it; +swear to me, swear!" + +"I swear it, Benoni, I swear it." The old man seemed to have fallen +asleep; it was a stupor. + +"She came," he said, "years ago and offered me gold. It was to be the +last effort of her life. She could not believe but that her husband was +in Paris and might be found. She believed the song would find him. I had +been suggested to her because my music and figure were known to all the +boulevards. I was blind and could never know her. But I knew her voice. + +"She went, veiled to avoid recognition; she stood by me at a certain +place on the boulevard where people gather in the evening and sang. What +a song. The streets were blocked, and men, I am told, uncovered before +the sacred purity of that voice, and when all were there who could hear +she sang our song; while I, weeping, played the accompaniment, ay, as no +man living or dead could have played it. Always in the lines-- + + "Oceans may roll between + Thy home and thee." + +--her voice gave way. They called it art. + +"Well, I thought, one day I will tell; it was always the next day, but I +knew, as she sang, in her mind must have arisen the picture of that +husband standing by her side--ah, my God, I could not, I could not; +blind, scarred, a felon, I could not; I was dead! It was bitter! + +"And then she came to me and said: 'Good Benoni, your heart is true and +tender; I thank you; I have wealth and plenty; here is gold, take it in +memory of a broken heart you have soothed.' I said: + +"'The voice of that woman, her song, are better than gold. I have them.' +I went and stood in the door as she, weeping, passed out. She lifted her +veil and touched the forehead of the old musician with her lips, and +then--I hardly knew! I was lying on the floor when Annette came to bring +my tea." + +For a long time he sat without motion after this recital. Edward +loosened the faded cords of his gown. The old man spoke again in a +whisper: + +"Come closer; there is another secret. I knew then that I had never +before loved her. My marriage had been an outrage of heart-faith. I +mistook admiration, sympathy, memory, for love. I was swept from my feet +by her devotion, but it is true--as God is my judge, I never loved her +until then--until her sad, ruined life spoke to me in that song on the +streets of Paris." Edward still held his hand. + +"Benoni," he said, simply, "there is no guilt upon your soul to have +deserved the convict's irons. Believe me, it is better to send for her +and let her come to you. Think of the long years she has searched; of +the long years of uncertainty that must follow. You cannot, you cannot +pass away without paying the debt; it was your fault in the +beginning----" + +The old man had gradually lifted his head; now he bowed it. "Then you +owe her the admission. Oh, believe me, you are wrong if you think the +scars of misfortune can shame away love. You do not know a true woman's +heart. You have not much time, I fear; let me send for her." There was +no reply. He knelt and took one withered hand in his. "Benoni, I plead +for you as for her. There will come a last moment--you will relent; and +then it will be too late." + +"Send!" It was a whisper. The lips moved again; it was an address. Upon +a card Edward wrote hurriedly: + + "The blind musician who once played for you is dying. He has + the secret of your life. If you would see your husband alive + lose no minute. + + "A Friend." + +He dashed from the room and ran rapidly to a cab stand. + +"Take this," he said, "bring an answer in thirty minutes, and get 100 +francs. If the police interfere, say a dying man waits for his friend." + +The driver lashed his horses, and was lashing them as he faded into the +distance. + +Edward returned; he called for hot water and bathed the dying man's +feet; he rubbed his limbs and poured brandy down his throat. He laid his +watch upon the little table; five, ten, fifteen, twenty, five--would she +never come? + +Death had already entered; he was hovering over the doomed man. + +The door opened; a tall woman of sad but noble countenance stepped in, +thrusting back her veil. Edward was kneeling by Benoni's side. Cambia's +eyes were fastened upon the face of the dying man. + +Edward passed out, leaving them alone. A name escaped her. + +"Gaspard." + +Slowly, leaning upon the arm of his chair, the old man arose and +listened. + +"It was a voice from the past," he said, clearly. "Who calls Gaspard +Levigne?" + +"Oh, God in heaven!" she moaned, dropping to her knees. "Is it true? +What do you know of Gaspard Levigne?" + +"Nothing that is good; but I am he, Marie!" The woman rushed to his +side; she touched his face and smoothed the disordered hair. She held +his hand after he had sunk into his chair. + +"Tell me, in God's name," she said. "Tell me where are the proofs of our +marriage? Oh, Gaspard, for my sake, for the sake of your posterity! You +are dying; do not deny me!" + +"Ah," he said, in a whisper. "I did not know--there--was--another--I did +not know. The woman--she wrote that it died!" He rose again to his feet, +animated by a thought that gave him new strength. Turning his face +toward her in horror, he said: + +"It is for you that you search, then--not for me!" + +"Speak, Gaspard, my husband, for my sake, for the sake of your Marie, +who loved and loves you, speak!" His lips moved. She placed her ear to +them: + +"Dear heaven," she cried in despair. "I cannot hear him! I cannot hear +him! Gaspard! Gaspard! Gaspard! Ah----" The appeal ended in a shriek. +She was staring into his glazing eyes. Then over the man's face came a +change. Peace settled there. The eyes closed and he whispered: "Freda!" + +Hearing her frantic grief, Edward rushed in and now stood looking down +in deep distress upon the scene. + +"He is dead, madame," he said, simply. "Let me see you to your home." +She arose, white and calm, by a mighty effort. + +"What was he to you? Who are you?" she asked. + +"He was my friend and master." He laid his hands lovingly on the eyes, +closing them. "I am Edward Morgan!" Her eyes never left him. There was +no motion of her tall figure; only her hand upon the veil closed tightly +and her features twitched. They stood in silence but a moment; it was +broken by Cambia. She had regained something of the bearing of the +dramatic soprano. With a simple dignity she said: + +"Sir, you have witnessed a painful scene. On the honor of a gentleman +give me your pledge to secrecy. There are tragedies in all lives; chance +has laid bare to you the youth of Cambia." He pointed downward to where +the still form lay between them. + +"Above the body of your husband--my friend--I swear to you that your +secret is safe." + +"I thank you." + +She looked a moment upon the form of the sleeper, and then her eyes +searched the face of the young man. "Will you leave me alone with him a +few moments?" He bowed and again withdrew into the little hall. + +When he was gone she knelt above the figure a long time in prayer, and +then, looking for the last time upon the dead face, sadly withdrew. The +young man took her to the carriage. A policeman was guarding it. + +"The driver broke the regulation by my orders," Edward said; "he was +bringing this lady to the bedside of a dying friend. Here is enough to +pay his fine." He gave a few napoleons to the cabman and his card on +which he placed his address. + +"Adieu, madame. I will arrange everything, and if you will attend the +funeral I will notify you." + +"I will attend," said Cambia; "I thank you. Adieu." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +THE HEART OF CAMBIA. + + +It was a simple burial. Edward sent a carriage for Cambia, one for the +concierge and his wife, and in the other he brought Mrs. Montjoy and +Mary, to whom he had related a part of the history of Benoni, as he +still called him. Out in Pere la Chaise they laid away the body of the +old master, placed on it their flowers and the beautiful wreath that +Cambia brought, and were ready to return. + +As they approached their carriage, Edward introduced the ladies, to whom +he had already told of Cambia's career. + +They looked with sympathetic pleasure upon the great singer and were +touched by her interest in and devotion to the old musician, "whom she +had known in happier days." + +Cambia studied their faces long and thoughtfully and promised to call +upon them. They parted to meet again. + +When Edward went to make an engagement for Mrs. Montjoy with Moreau, the +great authority on the eye, he was informed that the specialist had been +called to Russia for professional services in the family of the Czar, +and would not return before a date then a week off. The ladies accepted +the delay philosophically. It would give them time to see something of +Paris. + +And see it they did. To Edward it was familiar in every feature. He took +them to all the art centers, the historical points, the great cathedral, +the environments of Malmaison and Versailles, to the promenades, the +palaces and the theaters. This last feature was the delight of both. For +the dramatic art in all its perfection both betrayed a keen relish, and +just then Paris was at its gayest. They were never jostled, harassed, +nor disappointed. They were in the hands of an accomplished +cosmopolitan. + +To Mary the scenes were full of never-ending delight. The mother had +breathed the same atmosphere before, but to Mary all was novel and +beautiful. + +Throughout all Edward maintained the sad, quiet dignity peculiar to him, +illumined at times by flashes of life, as he saw and gloried in the +happiness of the girl at his side. + +Then came Cambia! Mary had gone out with Edward, for a walk, and Mrs. +Montjoy was knitting in the parlor in silent reverie when a card was +brought in, and almost immediately the sad, beautiful face of the singer +appeared in the door. + +"Do not arise, madame," she said, quickly, coming forward upon seeing +the elderly lady beginning to put aside her knitting, "nor cease your +work. I ask that you let me forget we are almost strangers and will sit +here by your side. You have not seen Moreau yet?" + +"No," said Mrs. Montjoy, releasing the white hand that had clasped hers; +"he is to return to-day." + +"Then he will soon relieve your anxiety. With Moreau everything is +possible." + +"I am sure I hope your trust is not misplaced; success will lift a great +weight from my family." Cambia was silent, thinking; then she arose and, +sinking upon the little footstool, laid her arms upon the knees of her +hostess, and with tearful eyes raised to her face she said: + +"Mrs. Montjoy, do you not know me? Have I indeed changed so much?" + +The needles ceased to contend and the work slipped from the smooth +little hands. A frightened look overspread the gentle face. + +"Who is it speaks? Sometime I must have known that voice." + +"It is Marion Evan." The visitor bent her head upon her own arms and +gave way to her emotion. Mrs. Montjoy had repeated the name +unconsciously and was silent. But presently, feeling the figure bent +before her struggling in the grasp of its emotion, she placed both hands +upon the shapely head and gently stroked its beautiful hair, now lined +with silver. + +"You have suffered," she said simply. "Why did you leave us? Why have +you been silent all these years?" + +"For my father's sake. They have thought me cold, heartless, abandoned. +I have crucified my heart to save his." She spoke with vehement passion. + +"Hush, my child," said the elder lady; "you must calm yourself. Tell me +all; let me help you. You used to tell me all your troubles and I used +to call you daughter in the old times. Do you remember?" + +"Ah, madame, if I did not I would not be here now. Indeed you were +always kind and good to Marion." + +And so, living over the old days, they came to learn again each other's +heart and find how little time and the incidents of life had changed +them. And sitting there beneath the sympathetic touch and eyes of her +lifetime friend, Cambia told her story. + +"I was not quite 17, madame, you remember, when it happened. How, I do +not know; but I thought then I must have been born for Gaspard Levigne. +From the moment I saw him, the violin instructor in our institution, I +loved him. His voice, his music, his presence, without effort of his, +deprived me of any resisting power; I did not seek to resist. I advanced +in my art until its perfection charmed him. I had often seen him +watching me with a sad and pensive air and he once told me that my face +recalled a very dear friend, long dead. I sang a solo in a concert; he +led the orchestra; I sang to him. The audience thought it was the +debutante watching her director, but it was a girl of 17 singing to the +only man the world held for her. He heard and knew. + +"From that day we loved; before, only I loved. He was more than double +my age, a handsome man, with a divine art; and I--well, they called me +pretty--made him love me. We met at every opportunity, and when +opportunities did not offer we made them, those innocent, happy trysts. + +"Love is blind not only to faults but to all the world. We were +discovered and he was blamed. The great name of the institution might be +compromised--its business suffer. He resigned. + +"Then came the terrible misstep; he asked me to go with him and I +consented. We should have gone home; he was afraid of the legal effects +of marrying a minor, and so we went the other way. Not stopping in New +York we turned northward, away from the revengeful south; from police +surveillance, and somewhere we were married. I heard them call us man +and wife, and then I sank again into my dream. + +"It does not seem possible that I could not have known the name of the +place, but I was no more than a child looking from a car window and +taken out for meals here and there. I had but one thought--my husband. + +"We went to Canada, then abroad. Gaspard had saved considerable money; +his home was in Silesia and thither we went; and that long journey was +the happiest honeymoon a woman could know." + +"I spent mine in Europe wandering from point to point. I understand," +said Mrs. Montjoy, gently. + +"Oh, you do understand! We reached the home and then my troubles began. +My husband, the restraints of his professional engagement thrown off, +fell a victim to dissipation again. He had left his country to break up +old associations and this habit. + +"His people were high-class but poor. He was Count Levigne. Their pride +was boundless. They disliked me from the beginning. I had frustrated the +plans of the family, whose redemption was to come from Gaspard. Innocent +though I was, and soon demanding the tenderness, the love, the +gentleness which almost every woman receives under like circumstances, I +received only coldness and petty persecution. + +"Soon came want; not the want of mere food, but of clothing and minor +comforts. And Gaspard had changed--he who should have defended me left +me to defend myself. One night came the end. He reproached me--he was +intoxicated--with having ruined his life and his prospects." The speaker +paused. With this scene had come an emotion she could with difficulty +control; but, calm at last, she continued with dignity: + +"The daughter of Gen. Albert Evan could not stand that. I sold my +diamonds, my mother's diamonds, and came away. I had resolved to come +back and work for a living in my own land until peace could be made with +father. At that time I did not know the trouble. I found out, though. + +"Gaspard came to his senses then and followed me. Madame, can you +imagine the sorrow of the coming back? But a few months before I had +gone over the same route the happiest woman in all the to me beautiful +world, and now I was the most miserable; life had lost its beauty! + +"We met again--he had taken a shorter way, and, guessing my limited +knowledge correctly, by watching the shipping register found me. But all +eloquence could not avail then; there had been a revulsion. I no longer +loved him. He would never reform; he would work by fits and starts and +he could not support me. At that time he had but one piece of property +in the world--a magnificent Stradivarius violin. The sale of that would +have brought many thousand francs to spend, but on that one thing he was +unchanging. It had come to him by many generations of musicians. They +transmitted to him their divine art and the vehicle of its expression. A +suggestion of sale threw him into the most violent of passions, so great +was the shock to his artistic nature and family pride. If he had starved +to death that violin would have been found by his side. + +"I believe it was this heroism in his character that touched me at last; +I relented. We went to Paris and Gaspard secured employment. But, alas, +I had not been mistaken. I was soon penniless and practically abandoned. +I had no longer the ability to do what I should have done at first; I +could not go home for want of means." + +"You should have written to us." + +"I would have starved before I would have asked. Had you known, had you +offered, I would have received it. And God sent me a friend, one of His +noblemen--the last in all the world of whom I could ask anything. When +my fortunes were at their lowest ebb John Morgan came back into my +life." + +"John Morgan!" + +"He asked no questions. He simply did all that was necessary. And then +he went to see my father. I had written him, but he had never replied; +he went, as I learned afterward, simply as a man of business and without +sentiment. You can imagine the scene. No other man witnessed it. It was, +he told me, long and stormy. + +"The result was that I would be received at home when I came with proofs +of my marriage. + +"I was greatly relieved at first; I had only to find my husband and get +them. I found him but I did not get them. It happened to be a bad time +to approach him. Then John Morgan tried, and that was unfortunate. In my +despair I had told my husband of that prior engagement. An insane +jealousy now seized him. He thought it was a plot to recover my name and +marry me to Mr. Morgan. He held the key to the situation and swore that +in action for divorce he would testify there had been no marriage! + +"Then we went forward to find the record. We never found it. If years of +search and great expense could have accomplished it, we would have +succeeded. It was, however, a fact; I remember standing before the +officiating officer and recalled my trembling responses, but that was +all. The locality, the section, whether it was the first or second day, +I do not recall. But, as God is my judge, I was married." + +She became passionate. Her companion soothed her again. + +"Go on, my child. I believe you." + +"I cannot tell you a part of this sad story; I have not been perfectly +open. Some day I will, perhaps, and until that time comes I ask you to +keep my secret, because there are good reasons now for silence; you will +appreciate them when you know. Gaspard was left--our only chance. Mr. +Morgan sought him, I sought him; he would have given him any sum for his +knowledge. Gaspard would have sold it, we thought; want would have made +him sell, but Gaspard had vanished as if death itself had carried him +off. + +"In this search I had always the assistance of Mr. Morgan, and at first +his money defrayed all expense; but shortly afterward he influenced a +leading opera master to give me a chance, and I sang in Paris as Cambia, +for the first time. From that day I was rich, and Marion Evan +disappeared from the world. + +"Informed weekly of home affairs and my dear father, my separation was +lessened of half its terrors. But year after year that unchanging friend +stood by me. The time came when the stern face was the grandest object +on which my eyes could rest. There was no compact between us; if I could +have dissolved the marriage tie I would have accepted him and been +happy. But Cambia could take no chances with herself nor with Gen. Evan! +Divorce could only have been secured by three months' publication of +notice in the papers and if that reached Gaspard his terrible answer +would have been filed and I would have been disgraced. + +"The American war had passed and then came the French war. And still no +news from Gaspard. And one day came John Morgan, with the proposition +that ten years of abandonment gave me liberty, and offered me his +hand--and fortune. But--there were reasons--there were reasons. I could +not. He received my answer and said simply: 'You are right!' After that +we talked no more upon the subject. + +"Clew after clew was exhausted; some led us into a foreign prison. I +sang at Christmas to the convicts. All seemed touched; but none was +overwhelmed; Gaspard was not among them. + +"I sang upon the streets of Paris, disguised; all Paris came to know and +hear the 'veiled singer,' whose voice, it was said, equaled the famous +Cambia's. A blind violinist accompanied me. We managed it skillfully. He +met me at a new place every evening, and we parted at a new place, I +alighting from the cab we always took, at some unfrequented place, and +sending him home. And now, madame, do you still believe in God?" + +"Implicitly." + +"Then tell me why, when, a few days since, I was called by your friend +Mr. Morgan to the bedside of Gaspard Levigne, the old musician, who had +accompanied me on the streets of Paris, why was it that God in His mercy +did not give him breath to enable his lips to answer my pitiful +question; why, if there is a God in heaven, did He not----" + +"Hush, Marion!" The calm, sweet voice of the elder woman rose above the +excitement and anguish of the singer. "Hush, my child; you have trusted +too little in Him! God is great, and good and merciful. I can say it +now; I will say it when His shadows fall upon my eyes as they must some +day." + +Awed and touched, Cambia looked up into the glorified face and was +silent. + +Neither broke that stillness, but as they waited a violent step was +heard without, and a voice: + +"Infamous! Infamous!" Edward rushed into the room, pale and horrified, +his bursting heart finding relief only in such words. + +"What is it, my son--Edward!" Mrs. Montjoy looked upon him +reproachfully. + +"I am accused of the murder of Rita Morgan!" he cried. He did not see +Cambia, who had drawn back from between the two, and was looking in +horror at him as she slowly moved toward the door. + +"You accused, Edward? Impossible! Why, what possible motive----" + +"Oh, it is devilish!" he exclaimed, as he tore the American paper into +shreds. "Devilish! First I was called her son, and now her murderer. I +murdered her to destroy her evidence, is the charge!" The white face of +Cambia disappeared through the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +THE MAN WITH THE TORCH. + + +The startling news had been discussed in all its phases in the little +parlor, Mary taking no part. She sat with averted face listening, but +ever and anon when Edward's indignation became unrestrainable she turned +and looked at him. She did not know that the paper contained a reference +to her. + +The astounding revelation, aside from the accusation, was the wound. +Strange that he had not discovered it. Who could have murdered poor +Rita? Positively the only person on the immediate premises were Virdow, +Evan and Gerald. Virdow was of course out of the question, and the +others were in the room. It was the blow that had driven her head +through the glass. What enemy could the woman have had? + +So far as he was concerned, the charge could amount to nothing; Evan was +in the room with him; the general would surely remember that. + +But the horror, the mortification--he, Edward Morgan, charged with +murder, and the center of a scandal in which the name of Mary Montjoy +was mentioned. + +The passion left him; depressed and sick from reaction he sat alone in +the little parlor, long after the ladies had retired; and then came the +climax. A cablegram reached the house and was handed in to him. It was +signed by Evan and read: + +"You have been indicted. Return." + +"Indicted," and for murder, of course. It gave him no uneasiness, but it +thrust all light and sweetness from life. The dream was over. There +could now be no search for Marion Evan. That must pass, and with it +hope. + +He had builded upon that idea castles whose minarets wore the colors of +sunrise. They had fallen and his life lay among the ruins. + +He threw himself upon the bed to sleep, but the gray of dawn was already +over the city; there came a rumbling vehicle in the street; he heard the +sound of a softly closing door--and then he arose and went out. The +early morning air and exercise brought back his physical equipoise. He +returned for breakfast, with a good appetite, and though grave, was +tranquil again. + +Neither of the ladies brought up the painful subject; they went with him +to see the learned oculist and came back silent and oppressed. There was +no hope. + +The diagnosis corresponded with Dr. Campbell's; the blind eye might have +been saved years ago, but an operation would not have been judicious +under the circumstances. Continued sight must depend upon general +health. + +All their pleasures and hopes buried in one brief day, they turned their +backs on Paris and started homeward. + +Edward saw Cambia no more; Mrs. Montjoy called alone and said farewell. +The next day they sailed from Havre. + +In New York Norton met them, grave and embarrassed for once in his life, +and assisted in their hurried departure for the far southern home. There +was no exchange of views between the two men. The paper Norton had sent +was acknowledged; that was all. The subject was too painful for +discussion. And so they arrived in Georgia. They mere met by the Montjoy +carriage at a little station near the city. It was the 11:20 p. m. +train. Gen. Evan was waiting for Edward. + +The handshaking over, they rapidly left the station. Evan had secured +from the sheriff a temporary exemption from arrest for Edward, but it +was understood that he was to remain out of sight. + +They arrived within a couple of miles of the Cedars, having only +broached commonplace subjects, traveling incidents and the like, when a +negro stopped them. In the distance they heard a hound trailing. + +"Boss, kin air one er you gentlemen gi' me a match? I los' my light back +yonder, and hit's too putty er night ter go back without a possum." Evan +drew rein. He was a born sportsman and sympathetic. + +"I reckon so," he said; "and--well, I can't," he concluded, having tried +all pockets. "Mr. Morgan, have you a match?" Edward had one and one +only. He drew all the little articles of his pockets into his hand to +find it. + +"Now, hold," said the general; "let's light our cigars. If it's to be +the last chance." The negro touched the blazing match to splinters of +lightwood, as the southern pitch pine is called when dry, and instantly +he stood in a circle of light, his features revealed in every detail. +Edward gazed into it curiously. Where had he seen that face? It came +back like the lines of some unpleasant dream--the thick lips, the flat +nose, the retreating forehead, full eyes and heavy eyelids, and over all +a look of infinite stupidity. The negro had fixed his eyes a moment upon +the articles in Edward's hand and stepped back quickly. But he recovered +himself and with clumsy thanks, holding up his flaming torch, went away, +leaving only the uncertain shadows dancing across the road. + +At home Gen. Evan threw aside all reserve. He drew their chairs up into +the sheltered corner of the porch. + +"I have some matters to talk over," he said, "and our time is short. +Yours is not a bailable case and we must have a speedy trial. The law +winks at your freedom to-night; it will not do to compromise our friends +in the court house by unnecessary delay. Edward, where was I when you +discovered the body of the woman, Rita Morgan?" Edward looked through +the darkness at his friend, who was gazing straight ahead. + +"You were standing by Gerald's bed, looking upon him." + +"How did you discover her? It never occurred to me to ask; were you not +in the room also?" + +"I certainly was. She broke the glass by pressing against it, as I +thought at the time, but now I see she was struck. I rushed out and +picked her up, and you came when I called." + +"Exactly. And you both talked loudly out there." + +"Why do you ask?" + +"Because," said Evan, slowly, "therein lies the defect in our defense. I +cannot swear you were in the room upon my own knowledge. I had been +astounded by the likeness of Gerald to those who had been dear to me--I +was absorbed. Then I heard you cry out, and found you in the yard." +There was a long pause. Edward's heart began to beat with sledge-hammer +violence. + +"Then," he said with a strange voice, "as the case would be presented, I +was found with the body of the woman; she had been murdered and I was +the only one who had a motive. Is that it?" + +"That is it." The young man arose and walked the porch in silence. + +"But that is not all," said Gen. Evan. "If it were, I would have cabled +you to go east from Paris. There is more. Is there any one on earth who +could be interested in your disgrace or death?" + +"None that I know of--that is, well, no; none that I know of. You +remember Royson; we fought that out. He cannot cherish enmity against a +man who fought him in an open field." + +"Perhaps you are mistaken." + +"From what do you speak?" + +"You had been in Paris but a few days when one night as I sat here your +friend Barksdale--great man that Barksdale; a trifle heady and +confident, but true as steel--Barksdale came flying on his sorrel up the +avenue and landed here. + +"'General,' said he, 'I have discovered the most damnable plot that a +man ever faced. All this scandal about Morgan is not newspaper sensation +as you suppose, it is the first step in a great tragedy.' And then he +went on to tell me that Gerald had invaded his room and shown him +pictures of an open grave, the face of a dead woman and also the face of +the man who opened that grave, drawn with every detail perfect. Gerald +declared that he witnessed the disinterment and drew the scene from +memory----" + +"Hold a minute," said Edward; he was now on his feet, his hand uplifted +to begin a statement; "and then--and then----" + +"The object of that disinterment was to inflict the false wound and +charge you with murder." + +"And the man who did it--who made that wound--was the man who begged a +match from us on the road. I will swear it, if art is true. I have seen +the picture." Evan paused a moment to take in the vital fact. Then there +rung out from him a half-shout: + +"Thank God! Thank God!" The chairs that stood between him and the door +were simply hurled out of the way. His stentorian voice called for his +factotum. "John!" and John did not wait to dress, but came. + +"Get my horse and a mule saddled and bring that puppy Carlo. Quick, +John, quick!" John fled toward the stable. "Edward, we win if we get +that negro--we win!" he exclaimed, coming back through the wreck of his +furniture. + +"But why should the negro have disinterred the body and have made a +wound upon her head? There can be no motive." + +"Heavens, man, no motive! Do you know that you have come between two men +and Mary Morgan?" + +"I have never suspected it, even." + +"Two have sought her with all the energy of manhood," said Evan. "Two +men as different as the east from the west. Royson hates you and will +leave no stone unturned to effect your ruin; Barksdale loves her and +will leave no stone unturned to protect her happiness! There you have it +all. Only one man in the world could have put that black devil up to his +infamous deed--and that man is Royson. Only one man in the world could +have grasped the situation and have read the riddle correctly--and that +man is Barksdale." Edward was dazed. Gradually the depth and villainy of +the conspiracy grew clear. + +"But to prove it----" + +"The negro." + +"Will he testify?" + +"Will he? If I get my hands on him, young man, he will testify! Or he +will hang by the neck from a limb as his possum hangs by the tail." + +"You propose to capture him?" + +"I am going to capture him." He disappeared in the house and when he +came out he had on his army belt, with sword and pistol. The mounts were +at the door and for the first time in his life Edward was astride a +mule. To his surprise the animal bounded along after the gray horse, +with a smooth and even gait, and kept up without difficulty. + +Evan rode as a cavalryman and carried across his saddle the puppy. With +unerring skill he halted at the exact spot where the match had been +struck, and lowered the dog gently to the ground. The intelligent, +excited animal at once took up the trail of man or dogs, and opening +loudly glided into the darkness. They followed. + +Several miles had been covered, when they saw in the distance a glimmer +of light among the trees and Evan drew rein. + +"It will not do," he said, "to ride upon him. At the sound of horses' +feet he will extinguish his light and escape. The dog, he will suppose, +is a stray one led off by his own and will not alarm him." They tied +their animals and pressed on. + +The dog ahead had openel and Carlo's voice could be heard with the rest, +as they trailed the fleeing possum. The general was exhausted. "I can't +do it, Edward, my boy--go on. I will follow as fast as possible." +Without a word Edward obeyed. The dogs were now furious, the man himself +running. In the din and clamor he could hear nothing of pursuit. The +first intimation he had of danger was a grip on his collar and a man's +voice exclaiming excitedly: + +"Halt! You are my prisoner!" + +The torch fell to the ground and lay sputtering. The negro was terrified +for the moment, but his quick eye pierced the gloom and measured his +antagonist. He made a fierce effort to break away, and failing, threw +himself with immense force upon Edward. Then began a frightful struggle. +No word was spoken. The negro was powerful, but the white man was +inspired by a memory and consciousness of his wrongs. They fell and +writhed, and rose and fell again. Slippery Dick had got his hand upon +Edward's throat. Suddenly his grasp relaxed and he lay with the white of +his eyes rolled upward. The muzzle of a cavalry pistol was against his +head and the stern face of the veteran was above him. + +"Get up!" said the general, briefly. + +"Certainly, boss," was the reply, and breathless the two men arose. + +The defense had its witness! + +"Ef he had'n conjured me," said the negro doggedly, "he couldn't 'er +done it." He had recognized among the little things that Edward drew +from his pocket on the road the voodoo's charm. + +Edward breathless, took up the torch and looked into Dick's countenance. +"I am not mistaken, general, this is the man." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +WHAT THE SHEET HID. + + +Slippery Dick was puzzled as well as frightened. He knew Gen. Evan by +sight, and his terror lost some of its wildness; the general was not +likely to be out upon a lynching expedition. But for what was he wanted? +He could not protest until he knew that, and in his past were many dark +deeds, for which somebody was wanted. So he was silent. + +His attention was chiefly directed to Edward; he could not account for +him, nor could he remember to have seen him. Royson had long since +trained him to silence; most men convict themselves while under arrest. + +Evan stood in deep thought, but presently he prepared for action. + +"What is your name, boy?" The negro answered promptly: + +"Dick, sah." + +"Dick who?" + +"Just Dick, sah." + +"Your other name?" + +"Slippery Dick." The general was interested instantly. + +"Oh, Slippery Dick." The career of the notorious negro was partially +known to him. Dick had been the reporter's friend for many years and in +dull times more than the truth had been told of Slippery Dick. "Well, +this begins to look probable, Edward; I begin to think you may be +right." + +"I am not mistaken, general. If there is a mistake, it is not mine." + +"What dey want me for, Marse Evan? I ain't done nothin'." + +"A house has been broken into, Dick, and you are the man who did it." + +"Who, me? Fo' Gawd, Marse Evan, I ain't broke inter no man's house. It +warn't me--no sah, no sah." + +"We will see about that. Now I will give you your choice, Dick; you can +go with me, Gen. Evan and I will protect you. If the person who accuses +you says you are innocent I will turn you loose; if you are not willing +to go there I will take you to jail; but, willing or unwilling, if you +make a motion to escape, I will put a bullet through you before you can +take three steps." + +"I'll go with you, Marse Evan; I ain't de man. I'll go whar you want me +to go." + +"Get your dogs together and take the road to town. I will show you when +we get there." They went with him to where his dogs, great and small, +were loudly baying at the root of a small persimmon tree. Dick looked up +wistfully. + +"Marse Evan, deir he sots; you don't spect me ter leave dat possum up +dere?" The old man laughed silently. + +"The ruling passion strong in death," he quoted to Edward, and then +sternly to Dick: "Get him and be quick about it." A moment more and they +were on the way to the horses. + +"I had an object," said Evan, "in permitting this. As we pass through +the city we present the appearance of a hunting party. Turn up your coat +collar and turn down your hat to avoid the possibility of recognition." + +They reached the city, passed through the deserted streets, the negro +carrying his 'possum and surrounded by the dogs preceding the riders, +and, without attracting more than the careless notice of a policeman or +two, they reached the limits beyond. + +Still Dick was not suspicious; the road was his own way home; but when +finally he was ordered to turn up the long route to Ilexhurst, he +stopped. This was anticipated; the general spurted his horse almost +against him. + +"Go on!" he said, sternly, "or by the Eternal you are a dead man! +Edward, if he makes a break, you have the ex----" + +"Marse Evan, you said breakin' in 'er house." Dick still hesitated. + +"I did; but it was the house of the dead." + +The 'possum came suddenly to the ground, and away went Dick into an open +field, the expectation of a bullet lending speed to his legs. But he was +not in the slightest danger from bullets; he was the last man, almost, +that either of his captors would have slain, nor was it necessary. The +great roan came thundering upon him; he lifted his arm to ward off the +expected blow and looked up terrified. The next instant a hand was on +his coat collar, and he was lifted off his feet. Dragging his prisoner +into the road, Evan held his pistol over his wet forehead, while, with +the rein, Edward lashed his elbows behind his back. The dogs were +fighting over the remains of the unfortunate 'possum. They left them +there. + +The three men arrived at Ilexhurst thoroughly tired; the white men more +so than the negro. Tying their animals, Edward led the way around to the +glass-room, where a light was burning, but to his disappointment on +entering he found no occupant. Slippery Dick was placed in a chair and +the door locked. Evan stood guard over him, while Edward searched the +house. The wing-room was dark and Gerald was not to be found. From the +door of the professor's room came the cadenced breathing of a profound +sleeper. Returning, Edward communicated these facts to his companion. +They discussed the situation. + +Evan, oppressed by the memory of his last two visits to these scenes, +was silent and distrait. The eyes of the negro were moving restlessly +from point to point, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The +scene, the hour, the situation and the memory of that shriveled face in +its coffin all combined to reduce Dick to a state of abject terror. Had +he not been tied he would have plunged through the glass into the night; +the pistol in the hands of the old man standing over him would have been +forgotten. + +What was to be done? Edward went into the wing-room and lighted the +lamps preparatory to making better arrangements for all parties. +Suddenly his eyes fell upon the lounge. Extended upon it was a form +outlined through a sheet that covered it from head to foot. So still, so +immovable and breathless it seemed, he drew back in horror. An +indefinable fear seized him. White, with unexpressed horror, he stood in +the door of the glass-room and beckoned to the general. The silence of +his appearance, the inexpressible terror that shone in his face and +manner, sent a thrill to the old man's heart and set the negro +trembling. + +Driving the negro before him, Evan entered. At sight of the covered form +Dick made a violent effort to break away, but, with nerves now at their +highest tension and muscles drawn responsive, the general successfully +resisted. Enraged at last he stilled his captive by a savage blow with +his weapon. + +Edward now approached the apparition and lifted the cloth. Prepared as +he was for the worst, he could not restrain the cry of horror that rose +to his lips. Before him was the face of Gerald, white with the hue of +death, the long lashes drooped over half-closed eyes, the black hair +drawn back from the white forehead and clustering about his neck and +shoulders. He fell almost fainting against the outstretched arm of his +friend, who, pale and shocked, stood with eyes riveted upon the fatal +beauty of the dead face. + +It was but an instant; then the general was jerked with irresistible +force and fell backward into the room, Edward going nearly prostrate +over him. There was the sound of shattered glass and the negro was gone. + +Stunned and hurt, the old man rose to his feet and rushed to the +glass-room. Then a pain seized him; he drew his bruised limb from the +floor and caught the lintel. + +"Stop that man! Stop that man!" he said in a stentorian voice; "he is +your only witness now!" Edward looked into his face a moment and +comprehended. For the third time that night he plunged into the darkness +after Slippery Dick. But where? Carlo was telling! Down the hill his +shrill voice was breaking the night. Abandoned by the negro's dogs +accustomed to seek their home and that not far away, he had followed the +master's footsteps with unerring instinct and whined about the glass +door. The bursting glass, the fleeing form of a strange negro, were +enough for his excitable nature; he gave voice and took the trail. + +The desperate effort of the negro might have succeeded, but the human +arms were made for many things; when a man stumbles he needs them in the +air and overhead or extended. Slippery Dick went down with a crash in a +mass of blackberry bushes, and when Edward reached him he was kicking +wildly at the excited puppy, prevented from rising by his efforts and +his bonds. The excited and enraged white man dragged him out of the +bushes by his collar and brought reason to her throne by savage kicks. +The prisoner gave up and begged for mercy. + +He was marched back, all breathless, to the general, who had limped to +the gate to meet him. + +Edward was now excited beyond control; he forced the prisoner, shivering +with horror, into the presence of the corpse, and with the axe in hand +confronted him. + +"You infamous villain!" he cried; "tell me here, in the presence of my +dead friend, who it was that put you up to opening the grave of Rita +Morgan and breaking her skull, or I will brain you! You have ten seconds +to speak!" He meant it, and the axe flashed in the air. Gen. Evan caught +the upraised arm. + +"Softly, softly, Edward; this won't do; this won't do! You defeat your +own purpose!" It was timely; the blow might have descended, for the +reckless man was in earnest, and the negro was by this time dumb. + +"Dick," said the general, "I promised to protect you on conditions, and +I will. But you have done this gentleman an injury and endangered his +life. You opened Rita Morgan's grave and broke her skull--an act for +which the law has no adequate punishment; but my young friend here is +desperate. You can save yourself but I cannot save you except over my +dead body. If you refuse I will stand aside, and when I do you are a +dead man." He was during this hurried speech still struggling with the +young man. + +"I'll tell, Marse Evan! Hold 'im. I'll tell!" + +"Who, then?" said Edward, white with his passion; "who was the infamous +villain that paid you for the deed?" + +"Mr. Royson, Mr. Royson, he hired me." The men looked at each other. A +revulsion came over Edward; a horror, a hatred of the human race, of +anything that bore the shape of man--but no; the kind, sad face of the +old gentleman was beaming in triumph upon him. + +And then from somewhere into the scene came the half-dressed form of +Virdow, his face careworn and weary, amazed and alarmed. + +Virdow wrote the confession in all its details, and the general +witnessed the rude cross made by the trembling hand of the negro. And +then they stood sorrowful and silent before the still, dead face of +Gerald Morgan! + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +ON THE MARGINS OF TWO WORLDS. + + +The discovery of Gerald's death necessitated a change of plans. The +concealment of Slippery Dick and Edward must necessarily be accomplished +at Ilexhurst. There were funeral arrangements to be made, the property +cared for and Virdow to be rescued from his solitary and embarrassing +position. Moreover, the gray dawn was on ere the confession was written, +and Virdow had briefly explained the circumstances of Gerald's death. +Exhausted by excitement and anxiety and the depression of grief, he went +to his room and brought Edward a sealed packet which had been written +and addressed to him during the early hours of the night. + +"You will find it all there," he said; "I cannot talk upon it." He went +a moment to look upon the face of his friend and then, with a single +pathetic gesture, turned and left them. + +One of the eccentricities of the former owner of Ilexhurst had been a +granite smoke-house, not only burglar and fireproof but cyclone proof, +and with its oaken door it constituted a formidable jail. + +With food and water, Dick, freed of his bonds, was ushered into this +building, the small vents in the high roof affording enough light for +most purposes. A messenger was then dispatched for Barksdale and Edward +locked himself away from sight of chance callers in his upper room. The +general, thoughtful and weary, sat by the dead man. + +The document that Virdow had prepared was written in German. "When your +eye reads these lines, you will be grieved beyond endurance; Gerald is +no more! He was killed to-night by a flash of lightning and his death +was instantaneous. I am alone, heartbroken and utterly wretched. +Innocent of any responsibility in this horrible tragedy I was yet the +cause, since it was while submitting to some experiments of mine that he +received his death stroke. I myself received a frightful electric shock, +but it now amounts to nothing. I would to God that I and not he had +received the full force of the discharge. He might have been of vast +service to science, but my work is little and now well-nigh finished. + +"Gerald was kneeling under a steel disk, in the glass-room, you will +remember where we began our sound experiments, and I did not know that +the steel wire which suspended it ran up and ended near a metal strip, +along the ridge beam of the room. We had just begun our investigation, +when the flash descended and he fell dead. + +"At this writing I am here under peculiar circumstances; the butler who +came to my call when I recovered consciousness assisted me in the +attempt at resuscitation of Gerald, but without any measure of success. +He then succeeded in getting one or two of the old negroes and a doctor. +The latter declared life extinct. There was no disfigurement--only a +black spot in the crown of the head and a dark line down the spine, +where the electric fluid had passed. That was all." + +Edward ceased to read; his chin sank upon his breast and the lines +slipped from his unfocused eyes. The dark line down the spine! His heart +leaped fiercely and he lifted his face with a new light in his eyes. For +a moment it was radiant; then shame bowed his head again. He laid aside +the paper and gave himself up to thought, from time to time pacing the +room. In these words lay emancipation. He resumed the reading: + +"We arranged the body on the lounge and determined to wait until morning +to send for the coroner and undertaker, but one by one your negroes +disappeared. They could not seem to withstand their superstition, the +butler told me, and as there was nothing to be done I did not worry. I +came here to the library to write, and when I returned, the butler, too, +was gone. They are a strange people. I suppose I will see none of them +until morning, but it does not matter; my poor friend is far beyond the +reach of attention. His rare mind has become a part of cosmos; its +relative situation is our mystery. + +"I will, now, before giving you a minute description of our last evening +together, commit for your eye my conclusions as to some of the phenomena +and facts you have observed. I am satisfied as far as Gerald's origin is +concerned, that he is either the son of the woman Rita or that they are +in some way connected by ties of blood. In either case the similarity of +their profiles would be accounted for. No matter how remote the +connection, nothing is so common as this reappearance of tribal features +in families. The woman, you told me, claimed him as her child, but +silently waived that claim for his sake. I say to you that a mother's +instinct is based upon something deeper than mere fancy, and that +intuitions are so nearly correct that I class them as the nearest +approach to mind memory to be observed. + +"The likeness of his full face to the picture of the girl you call +Marion Evan may be the result of influences exerted at birth. Do you +remember the fragmentary manuscript? If that is a history, I am of the +opinion that it is explanation enough. At any rate, the profile is a +stronger evidence the other way. + +"The reproduction of the storm scene is one of the most remarkable +incidents I have ever known, but it is not proof that he inherited it as +a memory. It is a picture forcibly projected upon his imagination by the +author of the fragment--and in my opinion he had read that fragment. It +came to him as a revelation, completing the gap. I am sure that from the +day that he read it he was for long periods convinced that he was the +son of Rita Morgan; that she had not lied to him. In this I am confirmed +by the fact that as she lay dead he bent above her face and called her +'mother'. I am just as well assured that he had no memory of the origin +of that picture; no memory, in fact, of having read the paper. This may +seem strange to you, but any one who has had the care of victims of +opium will accept the proposition as likely. + +"The drawing of the woman's face was simple. His hope had been to find +himself the son of Marion Evan; his dreams were full of her. He had seen +the little picture; his work was an idealized copy, but it must be +admitted a marvelous work. Still the powers of concentration in this man +exceeded the powers of any one I have ever met. + +"And that brings me to what was the most wonderful demonstration he gave +us. Edward, I have divined your secret, although you have never told it. +When you went to secure for me the note of the waterfall, the home note, +you were accompanied by your friend Mary. I will stake my reputation +upon it. It is true because it is obliged to be true. When you played +for us you had her in your mind, a vivid picture, and Gerald drew it. It +was a case of pure thought transference--a transference of a mental +conception, line for line. Gerald received his conception from you upon +the vibrating air. To me it was a demonstration worth my whole journey +to America. + +"And here let me add, as another proof of the sympathetic chord between +you, that Gerald himself had learned to love the same woman. You gave +him that, my young friend, with the picture. + +"You have by this time been made acquainted with the terrible accusation +against you--false and infamous. There will be little trouble in +clearing yourself, but oh, what agony to your sensitive nature! I tried +to keep the matter from Gerald, as I did the inquest by keeping him busy +with investigations; but a paper fell into his hands and his excitement +was frightful. Evading me he disappeared from the premises one evening, +but while I was searching for him he came to the house in a carriage, +bringing the picture of that repulsive negro, which you will remember. +Since then he has been more calm. Mr. Barksdale, your friend, I suppose, +was with him once or twice. + +"And now I come to this, the last night of our association upon earth; +the night that has parted us and rolled between us the mystery across +which our voices cannot reach nor our ears hear. + +"Gerald had long since been satisfied with the ability of living +substance to hold a photograph, and convinced that these photographs lie +dormant, so to speak, somewhere in our consciousness until awakened +again--that is, until made vivid. He was proceeding carefully toward the +proposition that a complete memory could be inherited, and in the second +generation or even further removed; you know his theory. There were +intermediate propositions that needed confirmation. When forms and +scenes come to the mind of the author, pure harmonies of color to that +of the artist, sweet co-ordinations of harmonies to the musician, whence +come they? Where is the thread of connection? Most men locate the seat +of their consciousness at the top of the head; they seem to think in +that spot. And strange, is it not, that when life passes out and all the +beautiful structure of the body claimed by the frost of death, that heat +lingers longest at that point! It is material in this letter, because +explaining Gerald's idea. He wished me to subject him to the finest +vibrations at that point. + +"The experiment was made with a new apparatus, which had been hung in +place of the first in the glass-room; or, rather, to this we made an +addition. A thin steel plate was fixed to the floor, directly under the +wire and elevated upon a small steel rod. Gerald insisted that as the +drum and membrane I used made the shapes we secured a new experiment +should be tried, with simple vibrations. So we hung in its place a steel +disk with a small projection from the center underneath. Kneeling upon +the lower disk Gerald was between two plates subject to the finest +vibration, his sensitive body the connection. There was left a gap of +one inch between his head and the projection under the upper disk and we +were to try first with the gap closed, and then with it opened. + +"You know how excitable he was. When he took his position he was white +and his large eyes flashed fire. His face settled into that peculiarly +harsh, fierce expression, for which I have never accounted except upon +the supposition of nervous agony. The handle to his violin had been +wrapped with fine steel wire, and this, extending a yard outward, was +bent into a tiny hook, intended to be clasped around the suspended wire +that it might convey to it the full vibrations from the sounding board +of the instrument. I made this connection, and, with the violin against +my ear, prepared to strike the 'A' note in the higher octave, which if +the vibrations were fine enough should suggest in his mind the figure of +a daisy. + +"Gerald, his eyes closed, remained motionless in his kneeling posture. +Suddenly a faint flash of light descended into the room and the thunder +rolled. And I, standing entranced by the beauty and splendor of that +face, lost all thought of the common laws of physics. A look of rapture +had suffused it, his eyes now looked out upon some vision, and a tender +smile perfected the exquisite curve of his lips. There was no need of +violin outside, the world was full of the fine quiverings of +electricity, the earth's invisible envelope was full of vibrations! +Nature was speaking a language of its own. What that mind saw between +the glories of this and the other life as it trembled on the margins of +both, is not given to me to know; but a vision had come to him--of what? + +"Ah, Edward, how different the awakening for him and me! I remember that +for a moment I seemed to float in a sea of flame; there was a shock like +unto nothing I had ever dreamed, and lying near me upon the floor, his +mortal face startled out of its beautiful expression, lay Gerald--dead!" + +The conclusion of the letter covered the proposed arrangements for +interment. Edward had little time to reflect upon the strange document. +The voice of Gen. Evan was heard calling at the foot of the stair. +Looking down he saw standing by him the straight, manly figure of +Barksdale. The hour of dreams had ended; the hour of action had arrived! + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +WAR TO THE KNIFE. + + +Barksdale heard the events of the night, as detailed by the general, +without apparent emotion. He had gone with them to look upon the remains +of Gerald. He brought from the scene only a graver look in his face, a +more gentle tone in his voice. These, however, soon passed. He was again +the cold, stern, level-headed man of affairs, listening to a strange +story. He lost no detail and his quick, trained mind gave the matter its +true position. + +The death of Gerald was peculiarly unfortunate for Edward. They had now +nothing left but the negro, and negro testimony could be bought for +little money. He would undertake to buy just such evidence as Dick had +given, from a dozen men in ten days and the first man he would have +sought was Slippery Dick, and the public would be thrown into doubt as +to Royson by the fact of deadly enmity between the men. To introduce +Dick upon the stand to testify and not support his testimony would be +almost a confession of guilt. The negro was too well known. Gerald's +statement would not be admissible, though his picture might. But of what +avail would the picture be without the explanation? + +Barksdale pointed out this clearly but briefly. Gen. Evan was amazed +that such a situation had not already presented itself. The court case +would have been Dick's word against Royson's; the result would have been +doubtful. The least that could be hoped for, if the State made out a +case against Edward, was imprisonment. + +But there was more; a simple escape was not sufficient; Edward must not +only escape but also show the conspiracy and put it where it belonged. +He, Barksdale, had no doubt upon that point. Royson was the guilty man. + +This analysis of the situation, leaving as it did the whole matter open +again, and the result doubtful, filled Evan with anxiety and vexation. + +"I thought," said he, walking the floor, "that we had everything fixed; +that the only thing necessary would be to hold to the negro and bring +him in at the right time. If he died or got away we had his confession +witnessed." Barksdale smiled and shook his head. + +"It is of the utmost importance," he said, "to hold the negro and bring +him in at the right time, but in my opinion it is vital to the case that +the negro be kept from communicating with Royson, and that the fact of +his arrest be concealed. Where have you got him?" + +"In the stone smoke-house," said Edward. + +"Tied." + +"No." + +"Then," said Barksdale, arising at once, "if not too late you must tie +him. There is no smoke-house in existence and no jail in this section +that can hold Slippery Dick if his hands are free." Thoroughly alarmed, +Gen. Evan led the way and Edward followed. Barksdale waved the latter +back. + +"Don't risk being seen; we can attend to this." They opened the door and +looked about the dim interior; it was empty. With a cry the general +rushed in. + +"He is gone!" Barksdale stood at the door; the building was a square +one, with racks overhead for hanging meat. There was not the slightest +chance of concealment. A mound of earth in one corner aroused his +suspicions. He went to it, found a burrow and, running his arm into +this, he laid hold of a human leg. + +"Just in time, General, he is here!" With a powerful effort he drew the +negro into the light. In one hour more he would have been under the +foundations and gone. Dick rose and glanced at the open door as he +brushed the dirt from his eyes, but there was a grip of steel upon his +collar, and a look in the face before him that suggested the uselessness +of resistance. The general recovered the strap and bound the elbows as +before. + +"I will bring up shackles," said Barksdale, briefly. "In the meantime, +this will answer. But you know the stake! Discharge the house servant, +and I will send a man of my own selection. In the meantime look in here +occasionally." They returned to the house and into the library, where +they found Edward and informed him of the arrangements. + +"Now," said Barksdale, "this is the result of my efforts in another +direction. The publication of libelous article is almost impossible, +with absolute secrecy as to the authorship. A good detective, with time +and money, can unravel the mystery and fix the responsibility upon the +guilty party. I went into this because Mr. Morgan was away, and the +circumstances were such that he could not act in the simplest manner if +he found the secret." He had drawn from his pocket a number of papers, +and to these, as he proceeded, he from time to time referred. + +"We got our first clew by purchase. Sometimes in a newspaper office +there is a man who is keen enough to preserve a sheet of manuscript that +he 'set up,' when reflection suggests that it may be of future value. +Briefly, I found such a man and bought this sheet"--lifting it a +moment--"of no value except as to the handwriting. + +"The first step toward discovering the name of the Tell-Tale +correspondent was a matter of difficulty, from the nature of the paper. +There was always in this case the _dernier ressort_; the editor could be +forced at the point of a pistol. But that was hazardous. The +correspondent's name was discovered in this way. We offered and paid a +person in position to know, for the addresses of all letters from the +paper's office to persons in this city. One man's name was frequently +repeated. We got a specimen of his handwriting and compared it with the +sheet of manuscript; the chirography was identical. + +"A brief examination of the new situation convinced me that the writer +did not act independently; he was a young man not long in the city and +could not have known the facts he wrote of nor have obtained them on his +own account without arousing suspicion. He was being used by another +party--by some one having confidential relations or connections with +certain families, Col. Montjoy's included. I then began to suspect the +guilty party. + +"The situation was now exceedingly delicate and I called into +consultation Mr. Dabney, one of our shrewdest young lawyers, and one, by +the way, Mr. Morgan, I will urge upon you to employ in this defense; in +fact, you will find no other necessary, but by all means hold to him. +The truth is," he added, "I have already retained him for you, but that +does not necessarily bind you." + +"I thank you," said Edward. "We shall retain him." + +"Very good. Now we wanted this young man's information and we did not +wish the man who used him to know that anything was being done or had +been done, and last week, after careful consultation, I acted. I called +in this young fellow and appointed him agent at an important place upon +our road, but remote, making his salary a good one. He jumped at the +chance and I did not give him an hour's time to get ready. He was to go +upon trial, and he went. I let him enjoy the sensation of prosperity for +a week before exploding my mine. Last night I went down and called on +him with our lawyer. We took him to the hotel, locked the door and +terrorized him into a confession, first giving him assurance that no +harm should come to him and that his position would not be affected. He +gave away the whole plot and conspiracy. + +"The man we want is Amos Royson!" + +The old general was out of his chair and jubilant. He was recalled to +the subject by the face of the speaker, now white and cold, fixed upon +him. + +"I did not have evidence enough to convict him of conspiracy, nor would +the evidence help Mr. Morgan's case, standing alone as it did. The +single witness, and he in my employ then, could not have convicted, +although he might have ruined, Royson. I am now working upon the murder +case. I came to the city at daylight and had just arrived home when your +note reached me. My intention was to go straight to Royson's office and +give him an opportunity of writing out his acknowledgement of his infamy +and retraction. If he had refused I would have killed him as surely as +there is a God in heaven." + +Edward held out his hand silently and the men understood each other. + +"Now," continued Barksdale, "the situation has changed. There is +evidence enough to convict Royson of conspiracy, perhaps. We must +consult Dabney, but I am inclined to believe that our course will be to +go to trial ourselves and spring the mine without having aroused +suspicion. When Slippery Dick goes upon the stand he must find Royson +confident and in my opinion he will convict himself in open court, if we +can get him there. The chances are he will be present. The case will +attract a great crowd. He would naturally come. But we shall take no +chances; he will come! + +"Just one thing more now; you perceive the importance, the vital +importance, of secrecy as to your prisoner; under no consideration must +his presence here be known outside. To insure this it seems necessary to +take one trusty man into our employ. Have you considered how we would be +involved if Mr. Morgan should be arrested?" + +"But he will not be. Sheriff----" + +"You forget Royson. He is merciless and alert. If he discovers Mr. +Morgan's presence in this community he will force an arrest. The sheriff +will do all in his power for us, but he is an officer under oath, and +with an eye, of course, to re-election. I would forestall this; I would +let the man who comes to guard Dick guard Mr. Morgan also. In other +words, let him go under arrest and accept a guard in his own house. The +sheriff can act in this upon his own discretion, but the arrest should +be made." Edward and the general were for a moment silent. + +"You are right," said the former. "Let the arrest be made." Barksdale +took his departure. + +The butler appeared and was summarily discharged for having abandoned +Virdow during the night. + +And then came the deputy, a quiet, confident man of few words, who +served the warrant upon Edward, and then, proceeding with his prisoner +to the smoke-house, put shackles upon Slippery Dick, and supplemented +them with handcuffs. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +PREPARING THE MINE. + + +This time the coroner was summoned. He came, examined the body of +Gerald, heard Virdow's statement and concluded that he could not hold an +inquest without subjecting himself to unpleasant criticism and giving +candidates for his office something to take hold of. + +The funeral was very quiet. Col. Montjoy, Mrs. Montjoy and Mary came in +the old family carriage and the general on horseback. + +The little group stood around the open coffin and gazed for the last +time upon the pale, chaste face. The general could not endure more than +the one glance. As it lay exposed to him, it was the perfect image of a +face that had never dimmed in his memory. Mary's tears fell silently as +she laid her little cross of white autumn rosebuds upon the silent +breast and turned away. Edward was waiting for her; she took his arm and +went upon the portico. + +"It is a sad blow to you, Mr. Morgan," she said. + +"It removes the only claim upon me," was his answer. "When all is over +and this trial ended, I shall very likely return to Europe for good!" +They were silent for a while. "I came here full of hope," he continued; +"I have met distrust, accusation, assaults upon my character and life, +the loss of friends, disappointments and now am accused of murder and +must undergo a public trial. It is enough to satisfy most men with--the +south." + +"And do you count your real friends as nothing?" + +"My real friends are few, but they count for much," he said, earnestly; +"it will be hard to part with them--with you. But fate has laid an iron +hand upon me. I must go." He found her looking at him with something of +wonder upon her face. + +"You know best," she said, quietly. There was something in her manner +that reminded him of the calm dignity of her father. + +"You do not understand me," he said, earnestly, "and I cannot explain, +and yet I will go this far. My parents have left me a mystery to +unfathom; until I have solved it I shall not come back, I cannot come +back." He took her hand in both of his. "It is this that restrains me; +you have been a true friend; it grieves me that I cannot share my +troubles with you and ask your woman's judgment, but I cannot--I cannot! +I only ask that you keep me always in your memory, as you will always be +the brightest spot in mine." She was now pale and deeply affected by his +tone and manner. + +"You cannot tell me, Mr. Morgan?" + +"Not even you, the woman I love; the only woman I have ever loved. Ah, +what have I said?" She had withdrawn her hand and was looking away. +"Forgive me; I did not know what I was saying. I, a man under indictment +for murder, a possible felon, an unknown!" + +The young girl looked at him fearlessly. + +"You are right. You can rely upon friendship, but under the +circumstances nothing can justify you in speaking of love to a +woman--you do not trust." + +"Do not trust! You cannot mean that!" She had turned away proudly and +would have left him. + +"I have seen so little of women," he said. "Let that be my excuse. I +would trust you with my life, my honor, my happiness--but I shall not +burden you with my troubles. I have everything to offer you but a name. +I have feared to tell you; I have looked to see you turn away in +suspicion and distrust--in horror. I could not. But anything, even that, +is better than reproach and wrong judging. + +"I tell you now that I love you as no woman was ever loved before; that +I have loved you since you first came into my life, and that though we +be parted by half a world of space, and through all eternity, I still +shall love you. But I shall never, so help me heaven, ask the woman I +love to share an unknown's lot! You have my reasons now; it is because I +do love you that I go away." He spoke the words passionately. And then +he found her standing close to his side. + +"And I," she said, looking up into his face through tearful but smiling +eyes, "do not care anything for your name or your doubts, and I tell +you, Edward Morgan, that you shall not go away; you shall not leave me." +He caught his breath and stood looking into her brave face. + +"But your family--it is proud----" + +"It will suffer nothing in pride. We will work out this little mystery +together." She extended her hand and, taking it, he took her also. She +drew back, shaking her head reproachfully. + +"I did not mean that." + +He was about to reply, but at that moment a scene was presented that +filled them both with sudden shame. How true it is that in the midst of +life we are in death. + +The hearse had passed the gate. Silently they entered the house. + +He led her back to the side of the dead man. + +"He loved you," he said slowly. "I shall speak the truth for him." Mary +bent above the white face and left a kiss upon the cold brow. + +"He was your friend," she said, fearing to look into his eye. + +He comprehended and was silent. + +It was soon over. The ritual for the dead, the slow journey to the city +of silence, a few moments about the open grave, the sound of dirt +falling upon the coffin, a prayer--and Gerald, living and dead, was no +longer a part of their lives. + +The Montjoys were to go home from the cemetery. Edward said farewell to +them separately and to Mary last. Strange paradox, this human life. He +came from that new-made grave almost happy. + +The time for action was approaching rapidly. He went with Dabney and the +general to see Slippery Dick for the last time before the trial. There +was now but one serious doubt that suggested itself. They took the man +at night to the grave of Rita and made him go over every detail of his +experience there. Under the influence of the scene he began with the +incident of the voodoo's "conjure bag" and in reply to queries showed +where it had been inserted in the cedar. Edward took his knife and began +to work at the plug, but this action plunged Dick into such terror that +Dabney cautioned Edward in a low voice to desist. + +"Dick," said the young man finally, with sudden decision, "if you fail +us in this matter not only shall I remove that plug but I shall put you +in jail and touch you with the bag." Dick was at once voluble with +promises. Edward, his memory stirred by the incident, was searching his +pockets. He had carried the little charm obtained for him by Mary +because of the tender memories of the night before their journey abroad. +He drew it out now and held it up. Dick had not forgotten it; he drew +back, begging piteously. Dabney was greatly interested. + +"That little charm has proved to be your protector, Mr. Morgan," he said +aloud for the negro's benefit. "You have not been in any danger. Neither +Dick nor anyone else could have harmed you. You should have told me +before. See how it has worked. The woman who gave you the bag came to +you in the night out on the ocean and showed you the face of this man; +you knew him even in the night, although he had never before met you nor +you him." + +A sound like the hiss of a snake came from the negro; he had never been +able to guess why this stranger had known him so quickly. He now gazed +upon his captor with mingled fear and awe. + +"Befo' Gawd, boss," he said, "I ain't goin' back on you, boss!" + +"Going back on him!" said Dabney, laughing. "I should think not. I did +not know that Mr. Morgan had you conjured. Let us return; Dick cannot +escape that woman in this world or the next. Give me the little bag, Mr. +Morgan--no, keep it yourself. As long as you have it you are safe." + +Edward was a prisoner, but in name only. Barksdale had not come again, +for more reasons than one, the main reason being extra precaution on +account of the watchful and suspicious Royson. But he acted quietly upon +the public mind. The day following the interview he caused to be +inserted in the morning paper an announcement of Edward's return and +arrest, and the additional fact that although his business in Paris had +not been finished, he had left upon the first steamer sailing from +Havre. At the club, he was outspoken in his denunciation of the +newspaper attacks and his confidence in the innocence of the man. There +was no hint in any quarter that it had been suspected that Rita Morgan +was really not murdered. It was generally understood that the defense +would rely upon the State's inability to make out a case. + +But Edward did not suffer greatly from loneliness. The day after the +funeral Mrs. Montjoy and Mary, together with the colonel, paid a formal +call and stayed for some hours; and the general came frequently with +Dabney and Eldridge, who had also been employed, and consulted over +their plans for the defense. Arrangements had been made with the +solicitor for a speedy trial and the momentous day dawned. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +SLIPPERY DICK RIGHTS A WRONG. + + +The prominence of the accused and of his friends, added to the +sensational publication, made the case one of immense interest. The +court house was crowded to its utmost and room had to be made within the +bar for prominent citizens. There was a "color line" feature in the +murder, and the gallery was packed with curious black faces. Edward, +quiet and self-contained, sat by his lawyers, and near him was the old +general and Col. Montjoy. Slightly in the rear was Barksdale, calm and +observant. The State had subpoened Royson as a witness, and, smilingly +indifferent, he occupied a seat as a member of the bar, inside the rail. +The case was called at last. + +"The State versus Edward Morgan, murder. Mr. Solicitor, what do you say +for the State?" asked the court. + +"Ready." + +"What do you say for the defense, gentlemen?" + +"Ready." + +"Mr. Clerk, call the jury." The panel was called and sworn. The work of +striking the jury then proceeded. Eldridge and Dabney were clever +practitioners and did not neglect any precaution. The jury list was +scanned and undesirable names eliminated with as much care as if the +prisoner had small chance of escape. + +This proceeding covered an hour, but at last the panel was complete and +sworn. The defendant was so little known that this was a simple matter. + +The witnesses for the State were then called and sworn. They consisted +of the coroner, the physician who had examined the wound, and others, +including Gen. Evan, Virdow and Royson. Gen. Evan and Virdow had also +been summoned by the defense. + +As Royson took the oath it was observed that he was slightly pale and +embarrassed, but this was attributed to the fact of his recent conflict +and the eager state of the great crowd. No man in the room kept such +watch upon him as Barksdale; never once did he take his eyes from the +scarred face. Witnesses for the defense were then called--Gen. Evan and +Virdow. They had taken the oath. The defense demanded that witnesses for +the State be sent out of the room until called. As Royson was rising to +comply with the requirement common in such cases, Dabney stood up and +said: + +"Before Mr. Royson goes out, may it please Your Honor, I would +respectfully ask of the solicitor what it is expected to prove by him?" + +"We expect to prove, Your Honor, that Mr. Royson wrote a certain letter +which charged the prisoner with being a man of mixed blood, and that +Rita Morgan, the woman who was killed, was the woman in question and the +only authority; an important point in the case. Mr. Royson, I should +say, is here by subpoena only and occupying a very delicate situation, +since he was afterward, by public report, engaged in a conflict with the +prisoner, growing out of the publication of that letter." + +"The solicitor is unnecessarily prolix, Your Honor. I asked the question +to withdraw our demand in his case as a matter of courtesy to a member +of the bar." Royson bowed and resumed his seat. + +"I now ask," said Dabney, "a like courtesy in behalf of Gen. Evan and +Prof. Virdow, witnesses for both State and defense." This was readily +granted. + +There was no demurrer to the indictment. The solicitor advanced before +the jury and read the document, word for word. "We expect to prove, +gentlemen of the jury, that the dead woman, named in this indictment, +was for many years housekeeper for the late John Morgan, and more +recently for the defendant in this case, Edward Morgan; that she resided +upon the premises with him and his cousin, Gerald Morgan; that on a +certain night, to wit, the date named in the indictment, she was +murdered by being struck in the head with some blunt implement, and that +she was discovered almost immediately thereafter by a witness; that +there was no one with the deceased at the time of her death but the +defendant, Edward Morgan, and that he, only, had a motive for her +death--namely, the suppression of certain facts, or certain publicly +alleged facts, which she alone possessed; that after her death, which +was sudden, he failed to notify the coroner, but permitted the body to +be buried without examination. And upon these facts, we say, the +defendant is guilty of murder. The coroner will please take the stand." + +The officer named appeared and gave in his testimony. He had, some days +after the burial of the woman, Rita Morgan, received a hint from an +anonymous letter that foul play was suspected in the case, and acting +under advice, had caused the body to be disinterred and he had held an +inquest upon it, with the result as expressed in the verdict which he +proceeded to read and which was then introduced as evidence. The witness +was turned over to the defense; they consulted and announced "no +questions". + +The next witness was the physician who examined the wound. He testified +to the presence of a wound in the back of the head that crushed the +skull and was sufficient to have caused death. Dabney asked of this +witness if there was much of a wound in the scalp, and the reply was +"No". + +"Was there any blood visible?" + +"No." The defense had no other questions for this officer, but announced +that they reserved the right to recall him if the case required it. + +The next witness was Virdow. He had seen the body after death, but had +not examined the back of the head; had seen a small cut upon the temple, +which the defendant had explained to him was made by her falling against +the glass in the conservatory. There was a pane broken at the point +indicated. + +And then Evan was put up. + +"Gen. Evan," asked the solicitor, "where were you upon the night that +Rita Morgan died?" + +"At the residence of Edward Morgan, sir." + +"Where were you when you first discovered the death of Rita Morgan?" + +"Gentlemen of the jury, at the time indicated, I was standing in the +glass-room occupied by the late Gerald Morgan, in the residence of the +defendant in this county----" + +"And state?" interrupted the solicitor. + +"And state. I was standing by the bedside of Gerald Morgan, who was ill. +I was deeply absorbed in thought and perfectly oblivious to my +surroundings, I suppose. I am certain that Edward Morgan was in the room +with me. I was aroused by hearing him cry out and then discovered that +the door leading into the shrubbery was open. I ran out and found him +near the head of the woman." + +"Did you notice any cuts or signs of blood?" + +"I noticed only a slight cut upon the forehead." + +"Did you examine her for other wounds?" + +"I did not. I understood then that she had, in a fit of some kind, +fallen against the glass, and that seeing her from within, Mr. Morgan +had run out and picked her up." + +"Did you hear any sound of breaking glass?" + +"I think I did. I cannot swear to it; my mind was completely absorbed at +that time. There was broken glass at the place pointed out by him." + +"That night--pointed out that night?" + +"No. I believe some days later." + +"Did you hear voices?" + +"I heard some one say 'They lied!' and then I heard Edward Morgan cry +aloud. Going out I found him by the dead body of the woman." + +The defense cross-questioned. + +"You do not swear, General Evan, that Mr. Morgan was not in the room at +the time the woman Rita was seized with sudden illness?" + +"I do not. It was my belief then, and is now----" + +"Stop," said the solicitor. + +"Confine yourself to facts only," said the court. + +"You are well acquainted with Mr. Morgan?" + +"As well as possible in the short time I have known him." + +"What is his character?" + +"He is a gentleman and as brave as any man I ever saw on the field of +battle." There was slight applause as the general came down, but it was +for the general himself. + +"Mr. Royson will please take the stand," said the solicitor. "You were +the author of the letter concerning the alleged parentage of Edward +Morgan, which was published in an extra in this city a few weeks since?" +Royson bowed slightly. + +"From whom did you get your information?" + +"From Rita Morgan," he said, calmly. There was a breathless silence for +a moment and then an angry murmur in the great audience. All eyes were +fixed upon Edward, who had grown pale, but he maintained his calmness. +The astounding statement had filled him with a sickening horror. Not +until that moment did he fully comprehend the extent of the enmity +cherished against him by the witness. On the face of Barksdale descended +a look as black as night. He did not, however, move a muscle. + +"You say that Rita Morgan told you--when?" + +"About a week previous to her death. She declared that her own son had +secured his rights at last. I had been consulted by her soon after John +Morgan's death, looking to the protection of those rights, she being of +the opinion that Gerald Morgan would inherit. When it was found that +this defendant here had inherited she called, paid my fee and made the +statement as given." + +"Why did you fight a duel with the defendant, then--knowing, or +believing you knew, his base parentage?" + +"I was forced to do so by the fact that I was challenged direct and no +informant demanded; and by the fact that while my friends were +discussing my situation, General Evan, acting under a mistaken idea, +vouched for him." + +These ingenuous answers took away the general's breath. He had never +anticipated such plausible lies. Even Dabney was for the moment +bewildered. Edward could scarcely restrain his emotion and horror. As a +matter of fact, Rita was not dead when the challenge was accepted. +Royson had lied under oath! + +"The witness is with you," said the solicitor, with just a tinge of +sarcasm in his tones. + +"Were the statements of Rita Morgan in writing?" asked Dabney. + +"No." + +"Then, may it please Your Honor, I move to rule them out." A debate +followed. The statements were ruled out. Royson was suffered to descend, +subject to recall. + +"The State closes," said the prosecuting officer. + +Then came the sensation of the day. + +The crowd and the bar were wondering what the defense would attempt with +no witnesses, when Dabney arose. + +"May it please Your Honor, we have now a witness, not here when the case +was called, whom we desire to bring in and have sworn. We shall decide +about introducing him within a few moments and there is one other +witness telegraphed for who has just reached the city. We ask leave to +introduce him upon his arrival." And then turning to the sheriff, he +whispered direction. The sheriff went to the hall and returned with a +negro. Royson was engaged in conversation, leaning over the back of his +chair and with his face averted. The witness was sworn and took the +stand facing the crowd. A murmur of surprise ran about the room, for +there, looking out upon them, was the well-known face of Slippery Dick. +The next proceedings were irregular but dramatic. Little Dabney drew +himself up to his full height and shouted in a shrill voice: + +"Look at that man, gentlemen of the jury." At the same time his finger +was pointed at Royson. All eyes were at once fixed upon that individual. +His face was as chalk, and the red scar across the nose flamed as so +much fiery paint. His eyes were fastened on the witness with such an +expression of fear and horror that those near him shuddered and drew +back slightly. And as he gazed his left hand fingered at his collar and +presently, with sudden haste, tore away the black cravat. Then he made +an effort to leave, but Barksdale arose and literally hurled him back in +his chair. The court rapped loudly. + +"I fine you $50, Mr. Barksdale. Take your seat!" + +Dick, unabashed, met that wild, pleading, threatening, futile gaze of +Royson, who was now but half-conscious of the proceedings. + +"Tell the jury, do you know this man?" shouted the shrill voice again, +the finger still pointing to Royson. + +"Yes, sah; dat's Mr. Royson." + +"Were you ever hired by him?" + +"Yes, sah." + +"When--the last time?" + +"'Bout three weeks ago." + +"To do what?" + +"Open 'er grave." + +"Whose grave?" + +"Rita Morgan's." + +"And what else?" + +There was intense silence; Dick twisted uneasily. + +"And what else?" repeated Dabney. + +"Knock her in de head." + +"Did you do it?" + +"Yes, sah." + +"Where did you knock her in the head?" + +"In de back of de head." + +"Hard?" + +"Hard enough to break her skull." + +"Did you see Mr. Morgan that night?" + +"Yes, sah." + +"Where?" + +"Downtown, jus' fo' I tole Mr. Royson 'all right'." + +"Where did you next see him?" + +"After he was killed by de lightnin'." + +"The witness is with you," said Dabney, the words ringing out in +triumph. He faced the solicitor defiantly. His questions had followed +each other with astounding rapidity and the effect on every hearer was +profound. The solicitor was silent; his eyes were upon Royson. Some one +had handed the latter a glass of water, which he was trying to drink. + +"I have no questions," said the solicitor gravely. + +"You can come down, Dick." The negro stepped down and started out. He +passed close to Royson, who was standing in the edge of the middle +aisle. Their eyes met. It may have been pure devilishness or simply +nervous facial contortion, but at that moment the negro's face took on a +grin. Whatever the cause, the effect was fatal to him. The approach of +the negro had acted upon the wretched Royson like a maddening stimulant. +At the sight of that diabolical countenance, he seized him with his left +hand and stabbed him frantically a dozen times before he could be +prevented. With a moan of anguish the negro fell dead, bathing the scene +in blood. + +A great cry went up from the spectators and not until the struggling +lawyer and the bloody corpse had been dragged out did the court succeed +in enforcing order. + +The solicitor went up and whispered to the judge, who nodded +immediately, but before he announced that a verdict of acquittal would +be allowed, the defendant's attorneys drew him aside, and made an appeal +to him to let them proceed, as a mere acquittal was not full justice to +the accused. + +Then the defense put up the ex-reporter and by him proved the +procurement by Royson of the libels and his authorship and gave his +connection with the affair from the beginning, which was the reception +of an anonymous card informing him that Royson held such information. + +Gen. Evan then testified that Rita died while Royson's second was +standing at the front door at Ilexhurst, with Royson's note in his +pocket. + +The jury was briefly charged by the court and without leaving the box +returned a verdict of not guilty. The tragedy and dramatic denouement +had wrought the audience to the highest pitch of excitement. The +revulsion of feeling was indicated by one immense cheer, and Edward +found himself surrounded by more friends than he thought he had +acquaintances, who shook his hand and congratulated him. Barksdale +stalked through the crowd and laid $50 upon the clerk's desk. Smiling up +at the court he said: + +"Will Your Honor not make it a thousand? It is too cheap!" + +But that good-natured dignitary replied: + +"The fine is remitted. You couldn't help it." + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +A WOMAN'S WIT CONQUERS. + + +Cambia was greatly disturbed by the sudden departure of the Montjoys. +She shut herself up and refused all visitors. Was the great-hearted yet +stern Cambia ill or distressed? The maid did not know. + +She had called for the "Figaro," to see the passenger list of the +steamer. The names were there; the steamer had sailed. And then as she +sat gazing upon the sheet another caught her attention in an adjoining +column, "Gaspard Levigne." It was in the body of an advertisement which +read: + +"Reward--A liberal reward will be paid for particulars of the death of +Gaspard Levigne, which, it is said, occurred recently in Paris. +Additional reward will be paid for the address of the present owner of +the Stradivarius violin lately owned by the said Gaspard Levigne and the +undersigned will buy said violin at full value, if for sale." + +Following this was a long and minute description of the instrument. The +advertisement was signed by Louis Levigne, Breslau, Silesia. + +Cambia read and reread this notice with pale face and gave herself to +reflection. She threw off the weight of the old troubles which had +swarmed over her again and prepared for action. Three hours later she +was on her way to Berlin; the next day found her in Breslau. A few +moments later and she was entering the house of the advertiser. + +In a dark, old-fashioned living-room, a slender, gray-haired man came +forward rather cautiously to meet her. She knew his face despite the +changes of nearly thirty years; he was the only brother of her husband +and one of her chief persecutors in those unhappy days. It was not +strange that in this tall, queenlike woman, trained to face great +audiences without embarrassment, he should fail to recognize the shy and +lonely little American who had invaded the family circle. He bowed, +unconsciously feeling the influence of her fine presence and commanding +eyes. + +"You, I suppose, are Louis Levigne, who advertised recently for +information of Gaspard Levigne?" she said. + +"Yes, madame; my brother was the unfortunate Gaspard. We think him dead. +Know you anything of him?" + +"I knew him years ago; I was then a singer and he was my accompanist. +Recently he died." The face of the man lighted up with a strange gleam. +She regarded him curiously and continued: "Died poor and friendless." + +"Ah, indeed! He should have communicated with us; he was not poor and +would not have been friendless." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You know, madame, the new age is progressive. Some lands we had in +northern Silesia, worthless for 200 years, have developed iron and a +company has purchased." The woman smiled sadly. + +"Too late," she said, "for poor Gaspard. This is why you have +advertised?" + +"Yes, madame. There can be no settlement until we have proofs of +Gaspard's death." + +"You are the only heir aside from Gaspard?" + +"Yes, madame." The count grew restless under these questions, but +circumstances compelled courtesy to this visitor. + +"Excuse my interest, Count, but Gaspard was my friend and I knew of his +affairs. Did he not leave heirs?" The man replied with gesture in which +was mingled every shade of careless contempt that could be expressed. + +"There was a woman--a plaything of Gaspard's calling herself his +wife--but they parted nearly thirty years ago. He humored her and then +sent her back where she came from--America, I believe." + +"I am more than ever interested, Count. Gaspard did not impress me as +vicious." + +"Oh, well, follies of youth, call them. Gaspard was wild; he first left +here because of a mock-marriage escapade; when two years after he came +back with this little doll we supposed it was another case; at any rate, +Gaspard was once drunk enough to boast that she could never prove the +marriage." Cambia could restrain herself only with desperate efforts. +These were knife blows. + +"Were there no heirs?" + +"I have never heard. It matters little here. But, madame, you know of +Gaspard's death; can you not give me the facts so that I may obtain +proofs?" She looked at him steadily. + +"I saw him die." + +"Ah, that simplifies it all," said the count, pleasantly. "Will you be +kind enough to go before an attesting officer and complete the proofs? +You have answered the advertisement--do I insult you by speaking of +reward?" He looked critically at her simple but elegant attire and +hesitated. + +"No. But I do not care for money. I will furnish positive proof of the +death of Gaspard Levigne for the violin mentioned in the advertisement." +The man was now much astounded. + +"But madame, it is an heirloom; that is why I have advertised for it." + +"Then get it. And let me receive it direct from the hands of the present +holder or I shall not furnish the proofs." Some doubt of the woman's +sanity flashed over the count. + +"I have already explained, madame, that it is an heirloom----" + +"And I have shown you that I do not consider that as important." + +"But of what use can it possibly be to you? There are other Cremonas I +will buy--" + +"I want this one because it is the violin of Gaspard Levigne, and he was +my husband." + +The count nearly leaped from the floor. + +"When did he marry you, madame?" + +"That is a long story; but he did; we were bohemians in Paris. I am heir +to his interests in these mines, but I care little for that--very +little. I am independent. My husband's violin is my one wish now." The +realization of how completely he had been trapped betrayed the forced +courtesy of the man. + +"You married him. I presume you ascertained that the American wife was +dead?" + +"You have informed me that the American was not his wife." + +"But she was, and if she is living to-day madame's claims are very +slender." + +"You speak positively!" + +"I do. I saw the proofs. We should not have given the girl any +recognition without them, knowing Gaspard's former escapade." + +"Then," said the woman, her face lighting up with a sudden joy, and +growing stern again instantly, "then you lied just now, you cowardly +hound." + +"Madame." The count had retreated behind a chair and looked anxiously at +the bell, but she was in the way. + +"You lied, sir, I say. I am the wife, and now the widow, of Gaspard +Levigne, but not a second wife. I am that 'plaything,' as you called +her, the American, armed now with a knowledge of my rights and your +treachery. You may well shiver and grow pale, sir; I am no longer the +trembling child you terrified with brutality, but a woman who could buy +your family with its mines thrown in, and not suffer because of the bad +investment. From this room, upon the information you have given, I go to +put my case in the hands of lawyers and establish my claim. It is not +share and share in this country; my husband was the first born, and I am +his heir!" + +"My God!" + +"It is too late to call upon God; He is on my side now! I came to you, +sir, a woman to be loved, not a pauper. My father was more than a prince +in his country. His slaves were numbered by the hundreds, and his lands +would have sufficed for a dozen of your counts. I was crushed and my +life was ruined, and my husband turned against me. But he repented--he +repented. There was no war between Gaspard and me when he died." The man +looked on and believed her. + +"Madame," he said, humbly, "has been wronged. For myself, it matters +little, this new turn of affairs, but I have others." She had been +looking beyond him into space. + +"And yet," she said, "it is the violin I would have. It was the violin +that first spoke our love; it is a part of me; I would give my fortune +to possess it again." He was looking anxiously at her, not comprehending +this passion, but hoping much from it. + +"And how much will you give?" + +"I will give the mines and release all claims against you and your +father's estate." + +"Alas, madame, I can give you the name of the holder of that violin but +not the violin itself. You can make terms with him, and I will pay +whatever price is demanded." + +"How will I know you are not deceiving me?" + +"Madame is harsh, but she will be convinced if she knows the handwriting +of her--husband." + +"It is agreed," she said, struggling to keep down her excitement. Count +Levigne reached the coveted bell and in a few minutes secured a notary, +who drew up a formal agreement between the two parties. Cambia then gave +an affidavit setting forth the death of Gaspard Levigne in proper form +for use in court. Count Levigne took from his desk an envelope. + +"You have read my advertisement, madame. It was based on this: + + "Count L. Levigne, Breslau: When you receive this I will be + dead. Make no effort to trace me; it will be useless; my + present name is an assumed one. We have been enemies many + years, but everything changes in the presence of death, and I + do not begrudge you the pleasure of knowing that your brother + is beyond trouble and want forever and the title is yours. The + Cremona, to which I have clung even when honor was gone, I have + given to a young American named Morgan, who has made my life + happier in its winter than it was in its summer. + + "Gaspard Levigne." + +The count watched the reader curiously as she examined the letter. Her +face was white, but her hand did not tremble as she handed back the +letter. + +"It is well," she said. "I am satisfied. Good morning, gentlemen." + +In Paris, Cambia's mind was soon made up. She privately arranged for an +indefinite absence, and one day she disappeared. It was the sensation of +the hour; the newspapers got hold of it, and all Paris wondered. + +There had always been a mystery in the life of Cambia. No man had ever +invaded it beyond the day when she put herself in the hands of a manager +and laid the foundation for her world-wide success upon the lyric stage. + +And then Paris forgot; and only the circle of her friends watched and +waited. + +Meanwhile the swift steamer had carried Mrs. Gaspard Levigne across the +Atlantic and she had begun that journey into the south-land, once the +dream of her youth--the going back to father and to friends! + +The swift train carried her by towns and villages gorgeous with new +paint and through cities black with the smoke of factories. The negroes +about the stations were not of the old life, and the rushing, curt and +slangy young men who came and went upon the train belonged to a new age. + +The farms, with faded and dingy houses, poor fences, and uncared-for +fields and hedges, swept past like some bad dream. All was different; +not thirty years but a century had rolled its changes over the land +since her girlhood. + +And then came the alighting. Here was the city, different and yet the +same. But where was the great family carriage, with folding steps and +noble bays, the driver in livery, the footman to hold the door? Where +were father and friends? No human being came to greet her. + +She went to the hotel, locked herself in her room, and then Cambia gave +way for the first time in a generation to tears. + +But she was eminently a practical woman. She had not come to America to +weep. The emotion soon passed. At her request a file of recent papers +was laid before her, and she went through them carefully. She found that +which she had not looked for. + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +DEATH OF COL. MONTJOY. + + +It was the morning succeeding the trial, one of those southern days that +the late fall steals from summer and tempts the birds to sing in the +woodlands. Gen. Evan had borne Virdow and Edward in triumph to The +Cedars and, after breakfast, Edward had ridden over to The Hall, leaving +the two old men together. Virdow interested his host with accurate +descriptions of the great battles between the Germans and the French; +and Evan in turn gave him vivid accounts of the mighty Virginia +struggles between Federals and Confederates. + +When they finally came to Edward as a topic the German was eloquent. He +placed him beside himself in learning and ahead of all amateurs as +artist and musician. + +"Mr. Morgan agreed with me in his estimate of Edward," Virdow said. +"They were warm friends. Edward reciprocated the affection bestowed upon +him; in Europe they traveled much--" + +"Of what Mr. Morgan do you speak?" The general was puzzled. + +"The elder, Mr. John Morgan, I think. But what am I saying? I mean +Abingdon." + +"Abingdon? I do not know him." Virdow reflected a moment. + +"Abingdon was the name by which Edward knew John Morgan in Europe. They +met annually and were inseparable companions." + +"John Morgan--our John Morgan?" + +"Yes. I am told he was very eccentric, and this was probably a whim. But +it enabled him to study the character of his relative. He seems to have +been satisfied, and who wouldn't?" + +"You astound me. I had never heard that John Morgan went to Europe. I +did hear that he went annually to Canada, for the summer months; that is +all." + +"Edward never knew of the connection until he came here and saw a +picture of John Morgan, drawn by Gerald. We both recognized it +instantly." Evan was silent, thinking upon this curious information. At +last he asked: + +"Was Edward Mr. Morgan's only intimate companion?" + +"The only one." + +"Did you ever hear why Mr. Morgan concealed his identity under an +assumed name?" + +"No. We did not connect Abingdon with John Morgan until letters were +returned with information that Abingdon was dead; and then Gerald drew +his picture from memory." + +And as these two old gentlemen chattered about him, Edward himself was +approaching the Montjoys. + +He found Mary upon the porch; his horse's feet had announced his coming. +Her face was flushed and a glad light shone in her eyes. She gave him +her hand without words; she had intended expressing her pleasure and her +congratulations, but when the time came the words were impossible. + +"You have been anxious," he said, reading her silence. + +"Yes," she replied; "I could not doubt you but there are so many things +involved, and I had no one to talk with. It was a long suspense, but +women have to learn such lessons," and then she added, seeing that he +was silent: "It was the most unhappy day of my life: papa was gone, and +poor mamma's eyes have troubled her so much. She has bandaged them again +and stays in her room. The day seemed never-ending. When papa came he +was pale and haggard, and his face deceived me. I thought that something +had gone wrong--some mistake had occurred and you were in trouble, but +papa was ill, and the news--" She turned her face away suddenly, feeling +the tears starting. + +Edward drew her up to a settee under a spreading oak, and seating +himself beside her told her much of his life's story--his doubts, his +hopes, his fears. She held her breath as he entered upon his experience +at Ilexhurst and Gerald's life and identity were dwelt upon. + +"This," said he at last, "is your right to know. It is due to me. I +cannot let you misjudge the individual. While I am convinced, that does +not make a doubt a fact and on it I cannot build a future. You have my +history, and you know that in the heart of Edward Morgan you alone have +any part. The world holds no other woman for me, nor ever will; but +there is the end. If I stayed by you the day would come when this love +would sweep away every resolution, every sense of duty, every instinct +of my mind, except the instinct to love you, and for this reason I have +come to say that until life holds no mystery for Edward Morgan he will +be an exile from you." + +The girl's head was sunk upon her arms as it rested upon the settee. She +did not lift her face. What could she answer to such a revelation, such +a declaration? After a while he ceased to walk the gravel floor of their +arbor, and stood by her. Unconsciously he let his hand rest upon the +brown curls. "This does not mean," he said, very gently, "that I am +going away to mope and wear out life in idle regrets. Marion Evan lives; +I will find her. And then--and then--if she bids me, I will come back, +and with a clean record ask you to be my wife. Answer me, my love, my +only love--let me say these words this once--answer me; is this the +course that an honorable man should pursue?" + +She rose then and faced him proudly. His words had thrilled her soul. + +"It is. I could never love you, Edward, if you could offer less. I have +no doubt in my mind--none. A woman's heart knows without argument, and I +know that you will come to me some day. God be with you till we meet +again--and for all time and eternity. This will be my prayer." + +Without object, the silent couple, busy with their thoughts, entered the +living-room. The colonel was sitting in his arm-chair, his paper dropped +from his listless hand, his eyes closed. The Duchess in his lap had +fallen asleep, holding the old open-faced watch and its mystery of the +little boy within who cracked hickory nuts. They made a pretty +picture--youth and old age, early spring and late winter. Mary lifted +her hand warningly. + +"Softly," she said; "they sleep; don't disturb them." Edward looked +closely into the face of the old man, and then to the surprise of the +girl placed his arm about her waist. + +"Do not cry out," he said; "keep calm and remember that the little +mamma's health--" + +"What do you mean?" she said, looking with wonder into his agitated face +as she sought gently to free herself. "Have you forgotten----" + +"This is sleep indeed--but the sleep of eternity." + +She sprang from him with sudden terror and laid her hand upon the cold +forehead of her father. For an instant she stared into his face, with +straining eyes, and then with one frightful scream she sank by his side, +uttering his name in agonized tones. + +Edward strove tearfully to calm her; it was too late. Calling upon +husband and daughter frantically, Mrs. Montjoy rushed from her room into +the presence of death. She was blindfolded, but with unerring instinct +she found the still form and touched the dead face. The touch revealed +the truth; with one quick motion she tore away the bandages from her +face, and then in sudden awe the words fell from her: + +"I am blind!" Mary had risen to her side and was clinging to her, and +Edward had assisted, fearing she might fall to the floor. But with the +consciousness of her last misfortune had soon come calmness. She heeded +not the cries of the girl appealing to her, but knelt with her white +face lifted and said simply: + +"Dear Father, Thou art merciful; I have not seen him dead! Blest forever +be Thy Holy name!" Edward turned his back and stood with bowed head, the +silence broken now only by the sobs of the daughter. Still sleeping in +the lap of the dead, her chubby hand clasping the wonderful toy, was the +Duchess, and at her feet the streaming sunlight. The little boy came to +the door riding the old man's gold-headed cane for a horse and carrying +the cow horn, which he had pushed from its nail upon the porch. + +"Grandpa, ain't it time to blow the horn?" he said. "Grandma, why don't +grandpa wake up?" She drew him to her breast and silenced his queries. + +And still with a half-smile upon his patrician face--the face that women +and children loved and all men honored--sat the colonel; one more leaf +from the old south blown to earth. + +The little girl awoke at last, sat up and caught sight of the watch. + +"Look, gamma. Little boy in deir cackin' hickeynut," and she placed the +jewel against the ear of the kneeling woman. + +That peculiarly placid expression, driven away in the moment of +dissolution, had returned to the dead man; he seemed to hear the Duchess +prattle and the familiar demand for music upon the horn. + +Isham had responded to the outcry and rushed in. With a sob he had stood +by the body a moment and then gone out shaking his head and moaning. And +then, as they waited, there rang out upon the clear morning air the +plantation bell--not the merry call to labor and the sweet summons to +rest, which every animal on the plantation knew and loved, but a solemn +tolling, significant in its measured volume. + +And over the distant fields where the hands were finishing their labors, +the solemn sounds came floating. Old Peter lifted his head. "Who dat +ring dat bell dis time er day?" he said, curiously; and then, under the +lessening volume of the breeze, the sound fell to almost silence, to +rise again stronger than before and float with sonorous meaning. + +At long intervals they had heard it. It always marked a change in their +lives. + +One or two of the men began to move doubtfully toward the house, and +others followed, increasing their pace as the persistent alarm was +sounded, until some were running. And thus they came to where old Isham +tolled the bell, his eyes brimming over with tears. + +"Old marster's gone! Old marster's gone!" he called to the first, and +the words went down the line and were carried to the "quarters," which +soon gave back the death chant from excited women. The negroes edged +into the yard and into the hall, and then some of the oldest into the +solemn presence of the dead, gazing in silence upon the sad, white face +and closed eyes. + +Then there was a tumult in yard and hall; a shuffling of feet announced +a newcomer. Mammy Phyllis, walking with the aid of a staff, entered the +room and stood by the side of the dead man. Every voice was still; here +was the woman who had nursed him and who had raised him; hers was the +right to a superior grief. She gazed long and tenderly into the face of +her foster-child and master and turned away, but she came again and laid +her withered hand upon his forehead. This time she went, to come no +more. In the room of the bereaved wife she took her seat, to stay a +silent comforter for days. Her own grief found never a voice or a tear. + +One by one the negroes followed her; they passed in front of the +sleeper, looked steadily, silently, into his face and went out. Some +touched him with the tips of their fingers, doubtfully, pathetically. +For them, although not realized fully, it was the passing of the old +regime. It was the first step into that life where none but strangers +dwelt, where there was no sympathy, no understanding. Some would drift +into cities to die of disease, some to distant cabins, to grow old +alone. One day the last of the slaves would lie face up and the old +south would be no more. + +None was left but one. Edward came at last and stood before his host. +Long and thoughtfully he gazed and then passed out. He had place in +neither the old nor the new. But the dead man had been his friend. He +would not forget it. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +THE ESCAPE OF AMOS ROYSON. + + +When Amos Royson's senses returned to him he was standing in the middle +of a room in the county jail. The whirl in his head, wherein had mingled +the faces of men, trees, buildings and patches of sky illumined with +flashes of intensest light and vocal with a multitude of cries--these, +the rush of thoughts and the pressure upon his arteries, had ceased. He +looked about him in wonder. Was it all a dream? From the rear of the +building, where in their cage the negro prisoners were confined came a +mighty chorus, "Swing low, sweet chariot," making more intense the +silence of his own room. That was not of a dream, nor were the bare +walls, nor the barred windows. His hands nervously clutching his lapels +touched something cold and wet. He lifted them to the light; they were +bloody! He made no outcry when he saw this, but stood a long minute +gazing upon them, his face wearing in that half shadow a confession of +guilt. And in that minute all the facts of the day stood forth, clear +cut and distinct, and his situation unfolded itself. He was a murderer, +a perjurer and a conspirator. Not a human being in all that city would +dare to call him friend. + +The life of this man had been secretly bad; he had deluded himself with +maxims and rules of gentility. He was, in fact, no worse at that moment +in jail than he had been at heart for years. But now he had been +suddenly exposed; the causes he had set in motion had produced a natural +but unexpected climax, and it is a fact that in all the world there was +no man more surprised to find that Amos Royson was a villain than Royson +himself. He was stunned at first; then came rage; a blind, increasing +rebellion of spirit unused to defeat. He threw himself against the facts +that hemmed him in as a wild animal against its cage, but he could not +shake them. They were still facts. He was doomed by them. Then a tide of +grief overwhelmed him; his heart opened back into childhood; he plunged +face down upon his bed; silent, oblivious to time, and to the jailer's +offer of food returning no reply. Despair had received him! A weapon at +hand then would have ended the career of Amos Royson. + +Time passed. No human being from the outer world called upon him. +Counsel came at last, in answer to his request, and a line of defense +had been agreed upon. Temporary insanity would be set up in the murder +case, but even if this were successful, trials for perjury and +conspiracy must follow. The chances were against his acquittal in any, +and the most hopeful view he could take was imprisonment for life. + +For life! How often, as solicitor, he had heard the sentence descend +upon the poor wretches he prosecuted. And not one was as guilty as he. +This was the deliberate verdict of the fairest judge known to man--the +convicting instincts of the soul that tries its baser self. + +At the hands of the jailer Royson received the best possible treatment. +He was given the commodious front room and allowed every reasonable +freedom. This officer was the sheriff's deputy, and both offices were +political plums. The prisoner had largely shaped local politics and had +procured for him the the sheriff's bondsmen. Officeholders are not +ungrateful--when the office is elective. + +The front room meant much to a prisoner; it gave him glimpses into the +free, busy world outside, with its seemingly happy men and women, with +its voices of school children and musical cries of street vendors. + +This spot, the window of his room, became Royson's life. He stood there +hour after hour, only withdrawing in shame when he saw a familiar face +upon the street. And standing there one afternoon, just before dark, he +beheld Annie's little vehicle stop in front of the jail. She descended, +and as she came doubtfully forward she caught sight of his face. She was +dressed in deep black and wore a heavy crepe veil. There was a few +minutes' delay, then the room door opened and Annie was coming slowly +toward him, her veil thrown back, her face pale and her hand doubtfully +extended. He looked upon her coldly without changing his position. + +"Are you satisfied?" he said, at length, when she stood silent before +him. + +Whatever had been the emotion of the woman, it, too, passed with the +sound of his sentence. + +"I would not quarrel with you, Amos, and I might do so if I answered +that question as it deserves. I have but a few minutes to stop here and +will not waste them upon the past. The question is now as to the future. +Have you any plan?" + +"None," he replied, with a sneer. "I am beyond plans. Life is not worth +living if I were out, and the game is now not worth the candle." The +woman stood silent. + +"What are your chances for acquittal?" she asked, after a long silence. + +"Acquittal! Absolutely none! Life itself may by a hard struggle be +saved. After that, it is the asylum or the mines." + +"And then?" + +"And then? Well, then I shall again ask my loving cousin to bring me a +powder. I will remind her once more that no Royson ever wore chains or a +halter, however much they may have deserved them. And for the sake of +her children she will consent." She walked to the corridor door and +listened and then came back to him. He smiled and stretched out his +hand. + +"Amos," she whispered, hurriedly; "God forgive me, but I have brought +it. I am going to New York to-morrow, and the chance may not come again. +Remember, it is at your request." She was fumbling nervously at the +bosom of her dress. "The morphine I could not get without attracting +attention, but the chloroform I had. I give it to you for use only when +life--" He had taken the bottle and was quietly looking upon the white +liquid. + +"I thank you, cousin," he said, quietly, with a ghastly little laugh. "I +have no doubt but that I can be spared from the family gatherings and +that in days to come perhaps some one will occasionally say 'poor Amos,' +when my fate is recalled. Thanks, a thousand thanks! Strange, but the +thought of death actually gives me new life." He looked upon her +critically a moment and then a new smile dawned upon his face. + +"Ah," he said, "your note about Morgan; it will be unfortunate if that +ever comes to light. You were not smart, Annie. You could have bought +that with this bottle." She flushed in turn and bit her lip. The old +Annie was still dominant. + +"It would have been better since Mr. Morgan is to be my brother-in-law. +Still if there is no love between us it will not matter greatly. Mary +seems to be willing to furnish all the affection he will need." + +"Where is he?" he asked, hoarsely, not attempting to disguise his +suffering. She was now relentless. + +"Oh, at Ilexhurst, I suppose. The general is to care for the old German +until the household is arranged again and everything made ready for the +bride." + +"Is the marriage certain?" + +She smiled cheerfully. "Oh, yes. It is to take place soon, and then they +are going to Europe for a year." And then as, white with rage, he +steadied himself against the window, she said: "Mary insisted upon +writing a line to you; there it is. If you can get any comfort from it, +you are welcome." + +He took the note and thrust it in his pocket, never removing his eyes +from her face. A ray had fallen into the blackness of his despair. It +grew and brightened until it lighted his soul with a splendor that shone +from his eyes and trembled upon every lineament of his face. Not a word +had indicated its presence. It was the silent expression of a hope and a +desperate resolve. The woman saw it and drew back in alarm. A suspicion +that he was really insane came upon her mind, and she was alone, +helpless and shut in with a maniac. A wild desire to scream and flee +overwhelmed her; she turned toward the door and in a minute would have +been gone. + +But the man had read her correctly. He seized her, clapped his hand over +her mouth, lifted her as he would a child and thrust her backward on the +bed. Before she could tear the grip from her mouth, he had drawn the +cork with his teeth and drenched the pillow-case with chloroform. There +was one faint cry as he moved his hand, but the next instant the drug +was in her nostrils and lungs. She struggled frantically, then faintly, +and then lay powerless at the mercy of the man bending over her. + +Hardly more than two minutes had passed, but in that time Amos Royson +was transformed. He had a chance for life and that makes men of cowards. +He stripped away the outer garments of the woman and arrayed himself in +them, adding the bonnet and heavy veil, and then turned to go. He was +cool now and careful. He went to the bed and drew the cover over the +prostrate form. He had occupied the same place in the same attitude for +hours. The jailer would come, offer supper from the door and go away. He +would, if he got out, have the whole night for flight. And he would need +it. The morn might bring no waking to the silent form. The thought +chilled his blood, but it also added speed to his movements. He drew off +the pillow-case, rolled it into a ball and dropped it out of the window. +He had seen the woman approach with veil down and handkerchief to her +face. It was his cue. He bent his head, pressed his handkerchief to his +eyes beneath the veil and went below. The jailer let the bent, +sob-shaken figure in and then out of the office. The higher class seldom +came there. He stood bareheaded until the visitor climbed into the +vehicle and drove away. + +It was with the greatest difficulty only that Royson restrained himself +and suffered the little mare to keep a moderate pace. Fifteen minutes +ago a hopeless prisoner, and now free! Life is full of surprises. But +where? Positively the situation had shaped itself so rapidly he had not +the slightest plan in mind. He was free and hurrying into the country +without a hat and dressed in a woman's garb! + +The twilight had deepened into gloom. How long would it be before +pursuit began? And should he keep on the disguise? He slipped out of it +to be ready for rapid flight, and then upon a second thought put it on +again. He might be met and recognized. His whole manner had undergone a +change; he was now nervous and excited, and the horse unconsciously +urged along, was running at full speed. A half-hour at that rate would +bear him to The Hall. Cursing his imprudence, he checked the animal and +drove on more moderately and finally stopped. He could not think +intelligently. Should he go on to The Hall and throw himself upon the +mercy of his connections? They would be bound to save him. Mary! Ah, +Mary! And then the note thrust itself in mind. With feverish haste he +searched for and drew it out. He tore off the envelope and helped by a +flickering match he read: + + "You must have suffered before you could have sinned so, and I + am sorry for you. Believe me, however others may judge you, + there is no resentment but only forgiveness for you in the + heart of + + "Mary." + +Then the tumult within him died away. No man can say what that little +note did for Amos Royson that night. He would go to her, to this +generous girl, and ask her aid. But Annie! What if that forced sleep +should deepen into death! Who could extricate her? How would Mary +arrange that? She would get Morgan. He could not refuse her anything. He +could not falter when the family name and family honor were at stake. He +could not let his wife--his wife! A cry burst from the lips of the +desperate man. His wife! Yes, he would go to him, but not for help. Amos +Royson might die or escape--but the triumph of this man should be +short-lived. + +The mare began running again; he drew rein with a violence that brought +the animal's front feet high in air and almost threw her to the ground. +A new idea had been born; he almost shouted over it. He tore off the +woman's garb, dropped it in the buggy, sprang out and let the animal go. +In an instant the vehicle was out of sight in the dark woods, and Royson +was running the other way. For the idea born in his mind was this: + +"Of all the places in the world for me the safest is Ilexhurst--if--" He +pressed his hand to his breast. The bottle was still safe! And Annie! +The horse returning would lead to her release. + +Amos Royson had a general knowledge of the situation at Ilexhurst. At 12 +o'clock he entered through the glass-room and made his way to the body +of the house. He was familiar with the lower floor. The upper he could +guess at. He must first find the occupied room, and so, taking off his +shoes, he noiselessly ascended the stairway. He passed first into the +boy's room and tried the door to that known as the mother's, but it was +locked. He listened there long and intently, but heard no sound except +the thumping of his own heart. Then he crossed the hall and there, upon +a bed in the front room, dimly visible in the starlight, was the man he +sought. + +The discovery of his victim, helpless and completely within his power, +marked a crisis in the mental progress of Royson. He broke down and +trembled violently, not from conscience, but from a realization of the +fact that his escape was now an accomplished fact. This man before him +disposed of, Ilexhurst was his for an indefinite length of time. Here he +could rest and prepare for a distant flight. No one, probably, would +come, but should anyone come, why, the house was unoccupied. The mood +passed; he went back to the hall, drew out his handkerchief and +saturated it with liquid from the bottle in his pocket. A distant +tapping alarmed him, and he drew deeper into the shadow. Some one seemed +knocking at a rear door. Or was it a rat with a nut in the wall? All old +houses have them. No; it was the tapping of a friendly tree upon the +weather boards, or a ventilator in the garret. So he reasoned. There +came a strange sensation upon his brain, a sweet, sickening taste in his +mouth and dizziness. He cast the cloth far away and rushed to the stair, +his heart beating violently. He had almost chloroformed himself while +listening to his coward fears. + + * * * * * + +The dizziness passed away, but left him unnerved. He dared not walk now. +He crawled to the cloth and thence into the room. Near the bed he lifted +his head a little and saw the white face of the sleeper turned to him. +He raised the cloth and held it ready; there would be a struggle, and it +would be desperate. Would he fail? Was he not already weakened? He let +it fall gently in front of the sleeper's face, and then inch by inch +pushed it nearer. Over his own senses he felt the languor stealing; how +was it with the other? The long regular inspirations ceased, the man +slept profoundly and noiselessly--the first stage of unconsciousness. +The man on the floor crawled to the window and laid his pale cheek upon +the sill. + +How long Royson knelt he never knew. He stood up at last with throbbing +temples, but steadier. He went up to the sleeper and shook him--gently +at first, then violently. The drug had done its work. + +Then came the search for more matches and then light. And there upon the +side table, leaning against the wall, was the picture that Gerald had +drawn; the face of Mary, severe and noble, the fine eyes gazing straight +into his. + +He had not thought out his plans. It is true that the house was his for +days, if he wished it, but how about the figure upon the bed? Could he +occupy that building with such a tenant? It seemed to him the sleeper +moved. Quickly wetting the handkerchief again he laid it upon the cold +lips, with a towel over it to lessen evaporation. And as he turned, the +eyes of the picture followed him. He must have money to assist his +escape; the sleeper's clothing was there. He lifted the garments. An +irresistible power drew his attention to the little table, and there, +still fixed upon him, were the calm, proud eyes of the girl. Angrily he +cast aside the clothing. The eyes still held him in their power, and now +they were scornful. They seemed to measure and weigh him: Amos Royson, +murderer, perjurer, conspirator--thief! The words were spoken somewhere; +they became vocal in that still room. Terrified, he looked to the man +upon the bed and there he saw the eyes, half-open, fixed upon him and +the towel moving above the contemptuous lips. With one bound he passed +from the room, down the steps, toward the door. Anywhere to be out of +that room, that house! + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +HOW A DEBT WAS PAID. + + +On went the spirited mare to The Hall, skillfully avoiding obstructions, +and drew up at last before the big gate. She had not been gentle in her +approach, and old Isham was out in the night holding her bit and talking +to her before she realized that her coming had not been expected. + +"De Lord bless yer, horse, whar you be'n an' what you done wid young +missus?" Mary was now out on the porch. + +"What is it, Isham?" + +"For Gawd's sake, come hyar, missy. Dis hyar fool horse done come erlong +back 'thout young missus, an' I spec' he done los' her out in de road +somewhar--" Mary caught sight of the dress and bonnet and greatly +alarmed drew them out. What could have happened? Why was Annie's bonnet +and clothing in the buggy? For an instant her heart stood still. + +Her presence of mind soon returned. Her mother had retired, and so, +putting the maid on guard, she came out and with Isham beside her, +turned the horse's head back toward the city. But as mile after mile +passed nothing explained the mystery. There was no dark form by the +roadside. At no place did the intelligent animal scent blood and turn +aside. It was likely that Annie had gone to spend the night with a +friend, as she declared she would if the hour were too late to enter the +jail. But the clothing! + +The girl drove within sight of the prison, but could not bring herself, +at that hour, to stop there. She passed on to Annie's friends. She had +not been there. She tried others with no better success. And now, +thoroughly convinced that something terrible had occurred, she drove on +to Ilexhurst. As the tired mare climbed the hill and Mary saw the light +shining from the upper window, she began to realize that the situation +was not very much improved. After all, Annie's disappearance might be +easily explained and how she would sneer at her readiness to run to Mr. +Morgan! It was the thought of a very young girl. + +But it was too late to turn back. She drew rein before the iron gate and +boldly entered, leaving Isham with the vehicle. She rapidly traversed +the walk, ascended the steps and was reaching out for the knocker, when +the door was suddenly thrown open and a man ran violently against her. +She was almost hurled to the ground, but frightened as she was, it was +evident that the accidental meeting had affected the other more. He +staggered back into the hall and stood irresolute and white with terror. +She came forward amazed and only half believing the testimony of her +senses. + +"Mr. Royson!" The man drew a deep breath and put his hand upon a chair, +nodding his head. He had for the moment lost the power of speech. + +"What does it mean?" she asked. "Why are you--here? Where is Mr. +Morgan?" His ghastliness returned. He wavered above the chair and then +sank into it. Then he turned his face toward hers in silence. She read +something there, as in a book. She did not cry out, but went and caught +his arm and hung above him with white face. "You have not--oh, no, you +have not--" She could say no more. She caught his hand and looked dumbly +upon it. The man drew it away violently as the horror of memory came +upon him. + +"Not that way!" he said. + +"Ah, not that way! Speak to me, Mr. Royson--tell me you do not mean +it--he is not----" The whisper died out in that dim hall. He turned his +face away a moment and then looked back. Lifting his hand he pointed up +the stairway. She left him and staggered up the steps slowly, painfully, +holding by the rail; weighed upon by the horror above and the horror +below. Near the top she stopped and looked back; the man was watching +her as if fascinated. She went on; he arose and followed her. He found +her leaning against the door afraid to enter; her eyes riveted upon a +form stretched upon the bed, a cloth over its face; a strange sweet odor +in the air. He came and paused by her side, probably insane, for he was +smiling now. + +"Behold the bridegroom," he said. "Go to him; he is not dead. He has +been waiting for you. Why are you so late?" She heard only two words +clearly. "Not dead!" + +"Oh, no," he laughed; "not dead. He only sleeps, with a cloth and +chloroform upon his face. He is not dead!" With a movement swift as a +bounding deer, she sprang across the room, seized the cloth and hurled +it from the window. She added names that her maiden cheeks would have +paled at, and pressed her face to his, kissing the still and silent lips +and moaning piteously. + +The man at the door drew away suddenly, went to the stairway and passed +down. No sound was heard now in the house except the moaning of the girl +upstairs. He put on a hat in the hall below, closed the door cautiously +and prepared to depart as he had come, when again he paused irresolute. +Then he drew from his pocket a crumpled paper and read it. And there, +under that one jet which fell upon him in the great hall, something was +born that night in the heart of Amos Royson--something that proved him +for the moment akin to the gods. The girl had glided down the steps and +was fleeing past him for succor. He caught her arm. + +"Wait," he said gently. "I will help you!" She ceased to struggle and +looked appealingly into his face. "I have not much to say, but it is for +eternity. The man upstairs is now in no immediate danger. Mary, I have +loved you as I did not believe myself capable of loving anyone. It is +the glorious spot in the desert of my nature. I have been remorseless +with men; it all seemed war to me, a war of Ishmaelites--civilized war +is an absurdity. Had you found anything in me to love, I believe it +would have made me another man, but you did not. And none can blame you. +To-night, for every kind word you have spoken to Amos Royson, for the +note you sent him to-day, he will repay you a thousandfold. Come with +me." He half-lifted her up the steps and to the room of the sleeper. +Then wringing out wet towels he bathed the face and neck of the +unconscious man, rubbed the cold wrists and feet and forced cold water +into the mouth. It was a doubtful half-hour, but at last the sleeper +stirred and moaned. Then Royson paused. + +"He will awaken presently. Give me half an hour to get into a batteau on +the river and then you may tell him all. That--" he said, after a pause, +looking out of the window, through which was coming the distant clamor +of bells--"that indicates that Annie has waked and screamed. And now +good-by. I could have taken your lover's life." He picked up the picture +from the table, kissed it once and passed out. + +Mary was alone with her lover. Gradually under her hand consciousness +came back and he realized that the face in the light by him was not of +dreams but of life itself--that life which, but for her and the +gentleness of her woman's heart, would have passed out that night at +Ilexhurst. + +And as he drifted back again into consciousness under the willows of the +creeping river a little boat drifted toward the sea. + +Dawn was upon the eastern hills when Mary, with her rescued +sister-in-law, crept noiselessly into The Hall. It was in New York that +the latter read the account of her mortification. Norton was not there. +She had passed him in her flight. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +THE UNOPENED LETTER. + + +Soon it became known that Col. Montjoy had gone to his final judgment. +Then came the old friends of his young manhood out of their retreats; +the country for twenty miles about gave them up to the occasion. They +brought with them all that was left of the old times--courtesy, sympathy +and dignity. + +There were soldiers among them, and here and there an empty sleeve and a +scarred face. There was simply one less in their ranks. Another would +follow, and another; the morrow held the mystery for the next. + +Norton had returned. He was violently affected, after the fashion of +mercurial temperaments. On Edward by accident had fallen the +arrangements for the funeral, and with the advice of the general he had +managed them well. Fate seemed to make him a member of that household in +spite of himself. + +The general was made an honorary pall-bearer, and when the procession +moved at last into the city and to the church, without forethought it +fell to Edward--there was no one else--to support and sustain the +daughter of the house. It seemed a matter of course that he should do +this, and as they followed the coffin up the aisle, between the two +ranks of people gathered there, the fact was noted in silence to be +discussed later. This then, read the universal verdict, was the sequel +of a romance. + +But Edward thought of none of these things. The loving heart of the girl +was convulsed with grief. Since childhood she had been the idol of her +father, and between them had never come a cloud. To her that +white-haired father represented the best of manhood. Edward almost +lifted her to and from the carriage, and her weight was heavy upon his +arm as they followed the coffin. + +But the end came; beautiful voices had lifted the wounded hearts to +heaven and the minister had implored its benediction upon them. The +soul-harrowing sound of the clay upon the coffin had followed and all +was over. + +Edward found himself alone in the carriage with Mary, and the ride was +long. He did not know how to lead the troubled mind away from its horror +and teach it to cling to the unchanging rocks of faith. The girl had +sunk down behind her veil in the corner of the coach; her white hands +lay upon her lap. He took these in his own firm clasp and held them +tightly. It seemed natural that he should; she did not withdraw them; +she may not have known it. + +And so they came back home to where the brave little wife, who had +promised "though He slay me yet will I trust in Him," sat among the +shadows keeping her promise. The first shock had passed and after that +the faith and serene confidence of the woman were never disturbed. She +would have died at the stake the same way. + +The days that followed were uneventful, Norton had recovered his +composure as suddenly as he had lost it, and discussed the situation +freely. There was now no one to manage the place and he could not +determine what was to be done. In the meantime he was obliged to return +to business, and look after his wife. He went first to Edward and +thanking him for his kindness to mother and sister, hurried back to New +York. Edward had spent one more day with the Montjoys at Norton's +request, and now he, too, took his departure. + +When Edward parted from Mary and the blind mother he had recourse to his +sternest stoicism to restrain himself. He escaped an awkward situation +by promising to be gone only two days before coming again. At home he +found Virdow philosophically composed and engaged in the library, a new +servant having been provided, and everything proceeding smoothly. Edward +went to him and said, abruptly: + +"When is it your steamer sails, Herr Virdow?" + +"One week from to-day," said that individual, not a little surprised at +his friend's manner. "Why do you ask?" + +"Because I go with you, never again in all likelihood to enter America. +From to-day, then, you will excuse my absences. I have many affairs to +settle." + +Virdow heard him in silence, but presently he asked: + +"Are you not satisfied now, Edward." + +"I am satisfied that I am the son of Marion Evan, but I will have +undoubted and unmistakable proof before I set foot in this community +again! There is little chance to obtain it. Nearly thirty years--it is a +long time, and the back trail is covered up." + +"What are your plans?" + +"To employ the best detectives the world can afford, and give them carte +blanche." + +"But why this search? Is it not better to rest under your belief and +take life quietly? There are many new branches of science and +philosophy--you have a quick mind, you are young--why not come with me +and put aside the mere details of existence? There are greater truths +worth knowing, Edward, than the mere truth of one's ancestry." Edward +looked long and sadly into his face and shook his head. + +"These mere facts," he said at length, "mean everything with me." He +went to his room; there were hours of silence and then Virdow heard in +the stillness of the old house the sound of Gerald's violin, for +Edward's had been left in Mary's care. His philosophy could not resist +the Fatherland appeal that floated down the great hall and filled the +night with weird and tender melody. For the man who played worshipped as +he drew the bow. + +But silence came deep over Ilexhurst and Virdow slept. Not so Edward; he +was to begin his great search that night. He went to the wing-room and +the glass-room and flooded them with light. A thrill struck through him +as he surveyed again the scene and seemed to see the wild face of his +comrade pale in death upon the divan. There under that rod still +pointing significantly down to the steel disk he had died. And outside +in the darkness had Rita also died. He alone was left. The drama could +not be long now. There was but one actor. + +He searched among all the heaps of memoranda and writings upon the desk. +They were memoranda and notes upon experiments and queries. Edward +touched them one by one to the gas jet and saw them flame and blacken +into ashes, and now nothing was left but the portfolio--and that +contained but four pictures--the faces of Slippery Dick, himself and +Mary and the strange scene at the church. One only was valuable--the +face of the girl which he knew he had given to the artist upon the tune +he had played. This one he took, and restored the others. + +He had turned out the light in the glass-room, and was approaching the +jet in the wing-room to extinguish it, when upon the mantel he saw a +letter which bore the address "H. Abingdon, care John Morgan," unopened. +How long it had been there no one was left to tell. The postman, weary +of knocking, had probably brought it around to the glass-room; or the +servant had left it with Gerald. It was addressed by a woman's hand and +bore the postmark of Paris, with the date illegible. It was a hurried +note: + + "Dear Friend: What has happened? When you were called home so + suddenly, you wrote me that you had important news to + communicate if you could overcome certain scruples, and that + you would return immediately, or as soon as pressing litigation + involving large interests was settled, and in your postscript + you added 'keep up your courage.' You may imagine how I have + waited and watched, and read and reread the precious note. But + months have passed and I have not heard from you. Are you ill? + I will come to you. Are you still at work upon my interests? + Write to me and relieve the strain and anxiety. I would not + hurry you, but remember it is a mother who waits. Yours, + + "Cambia." + +"Cambia!" Edward repeated the name aloud. Cambia. A flood of thoughts +rushed over him. What was Cambia--John Morgan to him? The veil was +lifting. And then came a startling realization. Cambia, the wife of +Gaspard Levigne! + +"God in heaven," he said, fervently, "help me now!" Virdow was gone; +only the solemn memories of the room kept him company. He sank upon the +divan and buried his face in his hands. If Cambia was the woman, then +the man who had died in his arms--the exile, the iron-scarred, but +innocent, convict, the hero who passed in silence--was her husband! And +he? The great musician had given him not only the violin but genius! +Cambia had begged of his dying breath proofs of marriage. The paling +lips had moved to reply in vain. + +The mystery was laid bare; the father would not claim him, because of +his scars, and the mother--she dared not look him in the face with the +veil lifted! But he would face her; he would know the worst; nothing +could be more terrible than the mystery that was crushing the better +side of his life and making hope impossible. He would face her and +demand the secret. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +"WOMAN, WHAT WAS HE TO YOU?" + + +Edward had formed a definite determination and made his arrangements at +once. There had been a coolness between him and Eldridge since the +publication of the Royson letter, but necessity drove him to that lawyer +to conclude his arrangements for departure. It was a different man that +entered the lawyer's office this time. He gave directions for the +disposition of Ilexhurst and the conversion of other property into cash. +He would never live on the place again under any circumstances. + +His business was to be managed by the old legal firm in New York. + +The memoranda was completed and he took his departure. + +He had given orders for flowers and ascertained by telephone that they +were ready. At 3 o'clock he met Mary driving in and took his seat beside +her in the old family carriage. Her dress of black brought out the pale, +sweet face in all its beauty. She flushed slightly as he greeted her. +Within the vehicle were only the few roses she had been able to gather, +with cedar and euonymus. But they drove by a green house and he filled +the carriage with the choicest productions of the florist, and then gave +the order to the driver to proceed at once to the cemetery. + +Within the grounds, where many monuments marked the last resting-place +of the old family, was the plain newly made mound covering the remains +of friend and father. At sight if it Mary's calmness disappeared and her +grief overran its restraints. Edward stood silent, his face averted. + +Presently he thought of the flowers and brought them to her. In the +arrangement of these the bare sod disappeared and the girl's grief was +calmed. She lingered long about the spot, and before she left it knelt +in silent prayer, Edward lifting his hat and waiting with bowed head. + +The sad ceremony ended, she looked to him and he led the way to where +old Isham waited with the carriage. He sent him around toward Gerald's +grave, under a wide-spreading live oak, while they went afoot by the +direct way impassable for vehicles. They reached the parapet and would +have crossed it, when they saw kneeling at the head of the grave a woman +dressed in black, seemingly engaged in prayer. + +Edward had caused to be placed above the remains a simple marble slab, +which bore the brief inscription: + + GERALD MORGAN. + + Died 1888. + +They watched until the woman arose and laid a wreath upon the slab. When +at last she turned her face and surveyed the scene they saw before them, +pale and grief-stricken, Cambia. Edward felt the scene whirling about +him and his tongue paralyzed. Cambia, at sight of them gave way again to +a grief that had left her pale and haggard, and could only extend the +free hand, while with the other she sought to conceal her face. Edward +came near, his voice scarcely audible. + +"Cambia!" he exclaimed in wonder; "Cambia!" she nodded her head. + +"Yes, wretched, unhappy Cambia!" + +"Then, madame," he said, with deep emotion, pointing to the grave and +touching her arm, "what was he to you?" She looked him fairly in the +face from streaming eyes. + +"He was my son! It cannot harm him now. Alas, poor Cambia!" + +"Your son!" The man gazed about him bewildered. "Your son, madame? You +are mistaken! It cannot be!" + +"Ah!" she exclaimed; "how little you know. It can be--it is true!" + +"It cannot be; it cannot be!" the words of the horrified man were now a +whisper. + +"Do you think a mother does not know her offspring? Your talk is idle; +Gerald Morgan was my son. I have known, John Morgan knew----" + +"But Rita," he said, piteously. + +"Ah, Rita, poor Rita, she could not know!" + +The manner, the words, the tone overwhelmed him. He turned to Mary for +help in his despair. Almost without sound she had sunk to the grass and +now lay extended at full length. With a fierce exclamation Edward rushed +to her and lifted the little figure in his arms. Cambia was at his side. + +"What is this? What was she to him?" some explanation was necessary and +Edward's presence of mind returned. + +"He loved her," he said. The face of Cambia grew soft and tender and she +spread her wrap on the rustic bench. + +"Place her here and bring water. Daughter," she exclaimed, kneeling by +her side, "come, come, this will never do--" The girl's eyes opened and +for a moment rested in wonder upon Cambia. Then she remembered. A +strange expression settled upon her face as she gazed quickly upon +Edward. + +"Take me home, madame," she said; "take me home. I am deathly ill." + +They carried her to the carriage, and, entering, Cambia took the little +head in her lap. Shocked and now greatly alarmed, Edward gave orders to +the driver and entered. It was a long and weary ride, and all the time +the girl lay silent and speechless in Cambia's lap, now and then turning +upon Edward an indescribable look that cut him to the heart. + +They would have provided for her in the city, but she would not hear of +it. Her agitation became so great that Edward finally directed the +driver to return to The Hall. All the way back the older woman murmured +words of comfort and cheer, but the girl only wept and her slender form +shook with sobs. And it was not for herself that she grieved. + +And so they came to the house, and Mary, by a supreme effort, was able +to walk with assistance and to enter without disturbing the household. +Cambia supported her as they reached the hall to the room that had been +Mary's all her life--the room opposite her mother's. There in silence +she assisted the girl to the bed. From somewhere came Molly, the maid, +and together using the remedies that women know so well they made her +comfortable. No one in the house had been disturbed, and then as Mary +slept Cambia went out and found her way to the side of Mrs. Montjoy and +felt the bereaved woman's arms about her. + +"You have reconsidered, and wisely," said Mrs. Montjoy, when the first +burst of emotion was over. "I am glad you have come--where is Mary?" + +"She was fatigued from the excitement and long drive and is in her room. +I met her in town and came with her. But madame, think not of me; you +are now the sufferer; my troubles are old. But you--what can I say to +comfort you?" + +"I am at peace, my child; God's will be done. When you can say that you +will not feel even the weight of your sorrows. Life is not long, at +best, and mine must necessarily be short. Some day I will see again." +Cambia bowed her head until it rested upon the hand that clasped hers. +In the presence of such trust and courage she was a child. + +"My daughter," said Mrs. Montjoy, after a silence, her mind reverting to +her visitor's remark; "she is not ill?" + +"Not seriously, madame, but still she is not well." + +"Then I will go to her if you will lend me your aid. I am not yet +accustomed to finding my way. I suppose I will have no trouble after a +while." The strong arm of the younger woman clasped and guided her upon +the little journey, and the mother took the place of the maid. Tea was +brought to them and in the half-lighted room they sat by the now +sleeping figure on the bed, and whispered of Cambia's past and future. +The hours passed. The house had grown still and Molly had been sent to +tell Edward of the situation and give him his lamp. + +But Edward was not alone. The general had ridden over to inquire after +his neighbors and together they sat upon the veranda and talked, and +Edward listened or seemed to listen. The rush of thoughts, the +realization that had come over him at the cemetery, now that necessity +for immediate action had passed with his charge, returned. Cambia had +been found weeping over her son, and that son was Gerald. True or +untrue, it was fatal to him if Cambia was convinced. + +But it could not be less than true; he, Edward, was an outcast upon the +face of the earth; his dream was over; through these bitter reflections +the voice of the general rose and fell monotonously, as he spoke +feelingly of the dead friend whom he had known since childhood and told +of their long associations and adventures in the war. And then, as +Edward sought to bring himself back to the present, he found himself +growing hot and cold and his heart beating violently; the consequences +of the revelation made in the cemetery had extended no further than +himself and his own people, but Cambia was Marion Evan! And her father +was there, by him, ignorant that in the house was the daughter dead to +him for more than a quarter of a century. He could not control an +exclamation. The speaker paused and looked at him. + +"Did you speak?" The general waited courteously. + +"Did I? It must have been involuntarily--a habit! You were saying that +the colonel led his regiment at Malvern Hill." Evan regarded him +seriously. + +"Yes, I mentioned that some time ago. He was wounded and received the +praise of Jackson as he was borne past him. I think Montjoy considered +that the proudest moment of his life. When Jackson praised a man he was +apt to be worthy of it. He praised me once," he said, half-smiling over +the scene in mind. + +But Edward had again lost the thread of the narrative. Cambia had +returned; a revelation would follow; the general would meet his +daughter, and over the grave of Gerald the past would disappear from +their lives. What was to become of him? He remembered that John Morgan +had corresponded with her, and communicated personally. She must know +his history. In the coming denouement there would be a shock for him. He +would see these friends torn from him, not harshly nor unkindly, but +between them and him would fall the iron rule of caste, which has never +been broken in the south--the race law, which no man can override. With +something like a panic within he decided at once. He would not witness +the meeting. He would give them no chance to touch him by sympathetic +pity and by--aversion. It should all come to him by letter, while he was +far away! His affairs were in order. The next day he would be gone. + +"General," he said, "will you do me a favor? I must return to the city; +my coming was altogether a matter of accident, and I am afraid it will +inconvenience our friends here at this time to send me back. Let me have +your horse and I will send him to you in the morning." + +The abrupt interruption filled the old man with surprise. + +"Why, certainly, if you must go. But I thought you had no idea of +returning--is it imperative?" + +"Imperative. I am going away from the city to-morrow, and there are yet +matters--you understand, and Virdow is expecting me. I trust it will not +inconvenience you greatly. It would be well, probably, if one of us +stayed to-night; this sudden illness--the family's condition----" + +"Inconvenience! Nonsense! If you must go, why, the horse is yours of +course as long as you need him." But still perplexed the general waited +in silence for a more definite explanation. Edward was half-facing the +doorway and the lighted hall was exposed to him, but the shadow of the +porch hid him from anyone within. It was while they sat thus that the +old man felt a hand upon his arm and a grasp that made him wince. +Looking up he saw the face of his companion fixed on some object in the +hall, the eyes starting from their sockets. Glancing back he became the +witness of a picture that almost caused his heart to stand still. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + +FRAGMENTARY LIFE RECORDS. + + +The records of John Morgan's life are fragmentary. It was only by +joining the pieces and filling in the gaps that his friends obtained a +clear and rounded conception of his true character and knew at last the +real man. + +Born about 1820, the only son of a wealthy and influential father, his +possibilities seemed almost unlimited. To such a youth the peculiar +system of the South gave advantages not at that time afforded by any +other section. The South was approaching the zenith of its power; its +slaves did the field work of the whole people, leaving their owners +leisure for study, for travel and for display. Politics furnished the +popular field for endeavor; young men trained to the bar, polished by +study and foreign travel and inspired by lofty ideals of government, +threw themselves into public life, with results that have become now a +part of history. + +At 22, John Morgan was something more than a mere promise. He had +graduated with high honors at the Virginia University and returning home +had engaged in the practice of law--his maiden speech, delivered in a +murder case, winning for him a wide reputation. But at that critical +period a change came over him. To the surprise of his contemporaries he +neglected his growing practice, declined legislative honors and +gradually withdrew to the quiet of Ilexhurst, remaining in strict +retirement with his mother. + +The life of this gentlewoman had never been a very happy one; refined +and delicate she was in sharp contrast to her husband, who, from the +handsome, darkhaired gallant she first met at the White Sulphur Springs, +soon developed into a generous liver, with a marked leaning towards +strong drink, fox-hunting and cards. As the wife, in the crucible of +life, grew to pure gold, the grosser pleasures developed the elder +Morgan out of all likeness to the figure around which clung her girlish +memories. + +But Providence had given to her a boy, and in him there was a promise of +happier days. He grew up under her care, passionately devoted to the +beautiful mother, and his triumphs at college and at the bar brought +back to her something of the happiness she had known in dreams only. + +The blow had come with the arrival of Rita Morgan's mother. From that +time John Morgan devoted himself to the lonely wife, avoiding the +society of both sexes. His morbid imagination pictured his mother and +himself as disgraced in the eyes of the public, unconscious of the fact +that the public had but little interest in the domestic situation at +Ilexhurst, and no knowledge of the truth. He lived his quiet life by her +side in the little room at home, and when at last, hurt by his horse, +the father passed away, he closed up the house and took his mother +abroad for a stay of several years. When they returned life went on very +much as before. + +But of the man who came back from college little was left, aside from an +indomitable will and a genius for work. He threw himself into the +practice of his profession again, with a feverish desire for occupation, +and, bringing to his aid a mind well stored by long years of reflection +and reading, soon secured a large and lucrative practice. + +His fancy was for the criminal law. No pains, no expense was too great +for him where a point was to be made. Some of his witnesses in noted +cases cost him for traveling expense and detectives double his fee. He +kept up the fight with a species of fierce joy, his only moments of +elation, as far as the public knew, being the moments of victory. + +So it was that at 40 years of age John Morgan found himself with a +reputation extending far beyond the state and with a practice that left +him but little leisure. It was about this time he accidentally met +Marion Evan, a mere girl, and felt the hidden springs of youth rise in +his heart. Marion Evan received the attentions of the great criminal +lawyer without suspicion of their meaning. + +When it developed that he was deeply interested in her she was +astonished and then touched. It was until the end a matter of wonder to +her that John Morgan should have found anything in her to admire and +love, but those who looked on knowingly were not surprised. Of gentle +ways and clinging, dependent nature, varied by flashes of her father's +fire and spirit, she presented those variable moods well calculated to +dazzle and impress a man of Morgan's temperament. He entered upon his +courtship with the same carefulness and determination that marked his +legal practice, and with the aid of his wealth and reborn eloquence +carried the citadel of her maiden heart by storm. With misgivings Albert +Evan yielded his consent. + +But Marion Evan's education was far from complete. The mature lover +wished his bride to have every accomplishment that could add to her +pleasure in life; he intended to travel for some years and she was not +at that time sufficiently advanced in the languages to interpret the +records of the past. Her art was of course rudimentary. Only in vocal +music was she distinguished; already that voice which was to develop +such surprising powers spoke its thrilling message to those who could +understand, and John Morgan was one of these. + +So it was determined that Marion should for one year at least devote +herself to study and then the marriage would take place. Where to send +her was the important question, and upon the decision hinges this +narrative. + +Remote causes shape our destinies. That summer John Morgan took his +mother abroad for the last time and in Paris chance gave him +acquaintance with Gaspard Levigne, a man nearly as old as himself. +Morgan had been touched and impressed by the unchanging sadness of a +face that daily looked into his at their hotel, but it is likely that he +would have carried it in memory for a few weeks only had not the owner, +who occupied rooms near his own, played the violin one night while he +sat dreaming of home and the young girl who had given him her promise. +He felt that the hidden musician was saying for him that which had been +crying out for expression in his heart all his life. Upon the impulse of +the moment he entered this stranger's room and extended his hand. +Gaspard Levigne took it. They were friends. + +During their stay in Paris the two men became almost inseparable +companions. One day Gaspard was in the parlor of his new friend, when +John Morgan uncovered upon the table a marble bust of his fiancee and +briefly explained the situation. The musician lifted it in wonder and +studied its perfections with breathless interest. From that time he +never tired of the beautiful face, but always his admiration was mute. +His lips seemed to lose their power. + +The climax came when John Morgan, entering the dim room one evening, +found Gaspard Levigne with his face in his hands kneeling before the +marble, convulsed with grief. And then little by little he told his +story. He was of noble blood, the elder son of a family, poor but proud +and exclusive. Unto him had descended, from an Italian ancestor, the +genius of musical composition and a marvelous technique, while his +brother seemed to inherit the pride and arrogance of the Silesian side +of the house, with about all the practical sense and business ability +that had been won and transmitted. + +He had fallen blindly in love with a young girl beneath him in the +social scale, and whose only dowry was a pure heart and singularly +perfect beauty. The discovery of this situation filled the family with +alarm and strenuous efforts were made to divert the infatuated man, but +without changing his purpose. Pressure was brought to bear upon the +girl's parents, with better success. + +Nothing now remained for Gaspard but an elopement, and this he planned. +He took his brother into his confidence and was pleased to find him +after many refusals a valuable second. The elopement took place and +assisted by the brother he came to Paris. There his wife had died +leaving a boy, then nearly two years old. + +Then came the denouement; the marriage arranged for him had been a +mockery. + +It was a fearful blow. He did not return to his home. Upon him had been +saddled the whole crime. + +When the story was ended Gaspard went to his room and brought back a +little picture of the girl, which he placed by the marble bust. Morgan +read his meaning there; the two faces seemed identical. The picture +would have stood for a likeness of Marion Evan, in her father's hands. + +The conduct of Gaspard Levigne upon the discovery of the cruel fraud was +such as won the instant sympathy of the American, whose best years had +been sacrificed for his mother. The musician had not returned to Breslau +and exposed the treachery of the brother who was the idol of his +parents; he suffered in silence and cared for the child in an +institution near Paris. But John Morgan went and quietly verified the +facts. He engaged the ablest counsel and did his best to find a way to +right the wrong. + +Then came good Mrs. Morgan, who took the waif to her heart. He passed +from his father's arms, his only inheritance a mother's picture, of +which his own face was the miniature. + +Months passed; Gaspard Levigne learned English readily, and one more +result of the meeting in Paris was that John Morgan upon returning to +America had, through influential friends, obtained for Levigne a +lucrative position in a popular American institution, where instrumental +and vocal music were specialties. + +It was to this institution that Marion Evan was sent, with results +already known. + +The shock to John Morgan, when he received from Marion a pitiful letter, +telling of her decision and marriage, well-nigh destroyed him. The mind +does not rally and reactions are uncertain at 40. In the moment of his +despair he had torn up her letters and hurled her likeness in marble far +out to the deepest part of the lake. Pride alone prevented him following +it. And in this hour of gloom the one remaining friend, his mother, +passed from life. + +The public never knew his sufferings; he drew the mantle of silence a +little closer around him and sank deeper into his profession. He soon +became known as well for his eccentricities as for his genius; and +presently the inherited tendency toward alcoholic drinks found him an +easy victim. Another crisis in his life came a year after the downfall +of his air castle, and just as the south was preparing to enter upon her +fatal struggle. + +The mother of Rita had passed away, and so had the young woman's +husband. Rita had but recently returned to Ilexhurst, when one night she +came into his presence drenched with rain and terrorized by the +fierceness of an electrical storm then raging. Speechless from +exhaustion and excitement she could only beckon him to follow. Upon the +bed in her room, out in the broad back yard, now sharing with its +occupant the mud and water of the highway, her face white and her +disordered hair clinging about her neck and shoulders, lay the +insensible form of the only girl he had ever loved--Marion Evan, as he +still thought of her. He approached the bed and lifted her cold hands +and called her by endearing names, but she did not answer him. Rita, the +struggle over had sunk into semi-consciousness upon the floor. + +When the family physician had arrived John Morgan had placed Rita upon +the bed and had borne the other woman in his arms to the mother's room +upstairs, and stood waiting at the door. While the genial old +practitioner was working to restore consciousness to the young woman +there, a summons several times repeated was heard at the front door. +Morgan went in person and admitted a stranger, who presented a card that +bore the stamp of a foreign detective bureau. Speaking in French the +lawyer gravely welcomed him and led the way to the library. The +detective opened the interview: + +"Have you received my report of the 14th inst., M. Morgan?" + +"Yes. What have you additional?" + +"This. Mme. Levigne is with her husband and now in this city." Morgan +nodded his head. + +"So I have been informed." He went to the desk and wrote out a check. +"When do you purpose returning?" + +"As soon as possible, monsieur; to-morrow, if it pleases you." + +"I will call upon you in the morning; to-night I have company that +demands my whole time and attention. If I fail, here is your check. You +have been very successful." + +"Monsieur is very kind. I have not lost sight of Mme. Levigne in nearly +a year until to-night. Both she and her husband have left their hotel; +temporarily only I presume." The two men shook hands and parted. + +Upstairs the physician met Morgan returning. "The lady will soon be all +right; she has rallied and as soon as she gets under the influence of +the opiate I have given and into dry clothes, will be out of danger. But +the woman in the servant's house is, I am afraid, in a critical +condition." + +"Go to her, please," said Morgan quickly. Then entering the room he took +a seat by the side of the young woman--her hand in his. Marion looked +upon his grave face in wonder and confusion. Neither spoke. Her eyes +closed at last in slumber. + +Then came Mamie Hester, the old woman who had nursed him, one of those +family servants of the old South, whose lips never learned how to betray +secrets. + + * * * * * + +The sun rose grandly on the morning that Marion left Ixlexhurst. She +pushed back her heavy veil, letting its splendor light up her pale face +and gave her hand in sad farewell to John Morgan. Its golden beams +almost glorified the countenance of the man; or was it the light from a +great soul shining through? + +"A mother's prayers," she said brokenly. "They are all that I can give." + +"God bless and protect you till we meet again," he said, gently. + +She looked long and sadly toward the eastern horizon in whose belt of +gray woodland lay her childhood home, lowered her veil and hurried away. +A generation would pass before her feet returned upon that gravel walk. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + +"THE LAST SCENE OF ALL" + + +Mary slept. + +The blind woman, who had for awhile sat silent by her side, slowly +stroking and smoothing the girl's extended arm, nodded, her chin resting +upon her breast. + +Cambia alone was left awake in the room, her mind busy with its past. +The light was strong; noiselessly she went to the little table to lower +it. There, before her, lay a violin's antique case. As her gaze fell +upon it, the flame sank under her touch, leaving the room almost in the +shadow. The box was rounded at the ends and inlaid, the central design +being a curiously interwoven monogram. Smothering an exclamation, she +seized it in her arms and listened, looking cautiously upon her +companions. The elder woman lifted her head and turned sightless eyes +toward the light, then passed into sleep again. + +She went back eagerly to the box and tried its intricate fastenings; but +in the dim light they resisted her fingers, and she dare not turn up the +flame again. + +From the veranda in front came the murmur of men's voices; the house was +silent. Bearing the precious burden Cambia went quickly to the hallway +and paused for a moment under the arch that divided it. Overhead, +suspended by an invisible wire, was a snow-white pigeon with wings +outspread; behind swayed in the gentle breeze the foliage of the trees. +She stood for a moment, listening; and such was the picture presented to +Edward as he clutched the arm of his companion and leaned forward with +strained eyes into the light. + +Guided by the adjuncts of the scene he recognized at once a familiar +dream. But in place of the girl's was now a woman's face. + +Another caught a deeper meaning at the same instant, as the general's +suppressed breathing betrayed. + +Cambia heard nothing; her face was pale, her hand trembling. In the +light descending upon her she found the secret fastenings and the lid +opened. + +Then the two men beheld a strange thing; the object of that nervous +action was not the violin itself. A string accidentally touched by her +sparkling ring gave out a single minor note that startled her, but only +for a second did she pause and look around. Pressing firmly upon a spot +near the inner side of the lid she drew out a little panel of wood and +from the shallow cavity exposed, lifted quickly several folded papers, +which she opened. Then, half rising, she wavered and sank back fainting +upon the floor. The silence was broken. A cry burst from the lips of the +old general. + +"Marion! My child." In an instant he was by her side lifting and +caressing her. "Speak to me, daughter," he said. "It has been long, so +long. That face, that face! Child, it is your mother's as I saw it last. +Marion, look up; it is I, your father." And then he exclaimed +despairingly, as she did not answer him, "She is dead!" + +"It is not serious, General," said Edward hurriedly. "See, she is +reviving." Cambia steadied herself by a supreme effort and thrust back +the form that was supporting her. + +"Who calls Marion?" she cried wildly. "Marion Evan is dead! Cambia is +dead! I am the Countess Levigne." Her voice rang out in the hall and her +clenched hand held aloft, as though she feared they might seize them, +the papers she had plucked from the violin case. Then her eyes met the +general's; she paused in wonder and looked longingly into his aged face. +Her voice sank to a whisper: "Father, father! Is it indeed you? You at +last?" Clinging to the hands extended toward her she knelt and buried +her face in them, her form shaking with sobs. The old man's tall figure +swayed and trembled. + +"Not there, Marion, my child, not there. 'Tis I who should kneel! God +forgive me, it was I who--" + +"Hush, father, hush! The blame was mine. But I have paid for it with +agony, with the better years of my life. + +"But I could not come back until I came as the wife of the man I loved; +I would not break your heart. See! I have the papers. It was my +husband's violin." She hid her face in his bosom and let the tears flow +unchecked. + +Edward was standing, white and silent, gazing upon the scene; he could +not tear himself away. The general, his voice unsteady, saw him at last. +A smile broke through his working features and shone in his tearful +eyes: + +"Edward, my boy, have you no word? My child has come home!" Marion +lifted her face and drew herself from the sheltering arms with sudden +energy. + +"Edward," she said, gently and lovingly. "Edward!" Her eyes grew softer +and seemed to caress him with their glances. She went up to him and +placed both hands upon his shoulders. "His child, and your mother!" + +"My mother, my mother!" The words were whispers. His voice seemed to +linger upon them. + +"Yes! Cambia, the unhappy Marion, the Countess Levigne and your mother! +No longer ashamed to meet you, no longer an exile! Your mother, free to +meet your eyes without fear of reproach!" + +She was drawing his cheek to hers as she spoke. The general had come +nearer and now she placed the young man's hand in his. + +"But," said Edward, "Gerald! You called him your son!" She clasped her +hands over her eyes and turned away quickly. "How can it be? Tell me the +truth?" She looked back to him then in a dazed way. Finally a suspicion +of his difficulty came to her. "He was your twin brother. Did you not +know? Alas, poor Gerald!" + +"Ah!" said the old man, "it was then true!" + +"Mother," he said softly, lifting her face to his, "Gerald is at peace. +Let me fulfill all the hopes you cherished for both!" + +"God has showered blessings upon me this night," said the general +brokenly. "Edward!" The two men clasped hands and looked into each +other's eyes. And, radiant by their side, was the face of Cambia! + +At this moment, Mary, who had been awakened by their excited voices, her +hand outstretched toward the wall along which she had crept, came and +stood near them, gazing in wonder upon their beaming faces. With a bound +Edward reached her side and with an arm about her came to Cambia. + +"Mother," he said, "here is your daughter." As Cambia clasped her +lovingly to her bosom he acquainted Mary with what had occurred. And +then, happy in her wonder and smiles, Edward and Mary turned away and +discussed the story with the now fully awakened little mother. + +"And now," said he, "I can ask of you this precious life and be your son +indeed!" Mary's head was in her mother's lap. + +"She has loved you a long time, Edward; she is already yours." + +Presently he went upon the veranda, where father and daughter were +exchanging holy confidences, and, sitting by his mother's side, heard +the particulars of her life and bitter experience abroad. + +"When Mr. Morgan went to you, father, and stated a hypothetical case and +offered to find me, and you, outraged, suffering, declared that I could +only return when I had proofs of my marriage, I was without them. Mr. +Morgan sent me money to pay our expenses home--Gaspard's and mine--and +we did come, he unwilling and fearing violence, for dissipation had +changed his whole nature. Then, he had been informed of my one-time +engagement to Mr. Morgan, and he was well acquainted with that gentleman +and indebted to him for money loaned upon several occasions. He came to +America with me upon Mr. Morgan's guaranty, the sole condition imposed +upon him being that he should bring proofs of our marriage; and had he +continued to rely upon that guaranty, had he kept his word, there would +have been no trouble. But on the day we reached this city he gave way to +temptation again and remembered all my threats to leave him. In our +final interview he became suddenly jealous, and declared there was a +plot to separate us, and expressed a determination to destroy the +proofs. + +"It was then that I determined to act, and hazarded everything upon a +desperate move. I resolved to seize my husband's violin, not knowing +where his papers were, and hold it as security for my proofs. I thought +the plan would succeed; did not his love for that instrument exceed all +other passions? I had written to Rita, engaging to meet her on a certain +night at a livery stable, where we were to take a buggy and proceed to +Ilexhurst. The storm prevented. Gaspard had followed me, and at the +church door tore the instrument from my arms and left me insensible. +Rita carried me in her strong arms three miles to Ilexhurst, and it cost +her the life of the child that was born and died that night. + +"Poor, poor Rita! She herself had been all but dead when my boys were +born a week later, and the idea that one of them was her own was the +single hallucination of her mind. The boys were said to somewhat +resemble her. Rita's mother bore a strong resemblance to Mrs. Morgan's +family, as you have perhaps heard, and Mrs. Morgan was related to our +family, so the resemblance may be explained in that way. Mr. Morgan +never could clear up this hallucination of Rita's, and so the matter +rested that way. It could do no harm under the circumstances, and +might--" + +"No harm?" Edward shook his head sadly. + +"No harm. You, Edward, were sent away, and it was early seen that poor +Gerald would be delicate and probably an invalid. For my troubles, my +flight, had--. The poor woman gave her life to the care of my children. +Heaven bless her forever!" + +Gambia waited in silence a moment and then continued: + +"As soon as I could travel I made a business transaction of it, and +borrowed of my friend, John Morgan. He had acquainted me with the +conditions upon which I should be received at home; and now it was +impossible for me to meet them. Gaspard was gone. I thought I could find +him; I never did, until blind, poor, aged and dying, he sent for me." + +"John Morgan was faithful. He secured vocal teachers for me in Paris and +then an engagement to sing in public. I sang, and from that night my +money troubles ended. + +"Mr. Morgan stayed by me in Paris until my career was assured. Then, in +obedience to his country's call he came back here, running the blockade, +and fought up to Appomattox." + +"As gallant a fire-eater," said the general, "as ever shouldered a gun. +And he refused promotion on three occasions." + +"I can readily understand that," said Cambia. "His modesty was only +equaled by his devotion and courage. + +"He visited me again when the war ended, and we renewed the search. +After that came the Franco-Prussian war, the siege of Paris and the +commune, destroying all trails. But I sang on and searched on. When I +seemed to have exhausted the theaters I tried the prisons. And so the +years passed by. + +"In the meantime Mr. Morgan had done a generous thing; never for a +moment did he doubt me." She paused, struggling with a sudden emotion, +and then: "He had heard my statement--it was not like writing, Father, +he had heard it from my lips--and when the position of my boys became +embarrassing he gave them his own name, formally adopting them while he +was in Paris." + +"God bless him!" It was the general's voice. + +"And after that I felt easier. Every week, in all the long years that +have passed, brought me letters; every detail in their lives was known +to me; and of yours, Father. I knew all your troubles. Mr. Morgan +managed it. And," she continued softly, "I felt your embarrassments when +the war ended. Mr. Morgan offered you a loan--" + +"Yes, but I could not accept from him--" + +"It was from me, Father; it was mine; and it was my money that cared for +my boys. Yes," she said, lifting her head proudly, "Mr. Morgan +understood; he let me pay back everything, and when he died it was my +money, held in private trust by him, that constituted the bulk of the +fortune left by him for my boys. I earned it before the footlights, but +honestly! + +"Well, when poor Gaspard died--" + +"He is dead, then?" + +"Ah! of course you do not know. To-morrow I will tell you his story. I +stood by his body and at his grave, and I knew Edward. I had seen him +many times. Poor Gerald! My eyes have never beheld him since I took him +in my arms that day, a baby, and kissed him good--" She broke down and +wept bitterly. "Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful!" + +After awhile she lifted her face. + +"My husband had written briefly to his family just before death, the +letter to be mailed after; and thus they knew of it. But they did not +know the name he was living under. His brother, to inherit the title and +property, needed proof of death and advertised in European papers for +it. He also advertised for the violin. It was this that suggested to me +the hiding place of the missing papers. Before my marriage Gaspard had +once shown me the little slide. It had passed from my memory. But +Cambia's wits were sharper and the description supplied the link. I went +to Silesia and made a trade with the surviving brother, giving up my +interest in certain mines for the name of the person who held the +violin. Gaspard had described him to me in his letter as a young +American named Morgan. The name was nothing to the brother; it was +everything to me. I came here determined, first to search for the +papers, and, failing in that, to go home to you, my father. God has +guided me." + +She sat silent, one hand in her father's, the other clasped lovingly in +her son's. It was a silence none cared to break. But Edward, from time +to time, as his mind reviewed the past, lifted tenderly to his lips the +hand of Cambia. + + * * * * * + +Steadily the ocean greyhound plowed its way through the dark swells of +the Atlantic. A heavy bank of clouds covered the eastern sky almost to +the zenith, its upper edges paling in the glare of the full moon slowly +ascending beyond. + +The night was pleasant, the decks crowded. A young man and a young woman +sat by an elderly lady, hand in hand. They had been talking of a journey +made the year previous upon the same vessel, when the ocean sang a new +sweet song. They heard it again this night and were lost in dreams, when +the voice of a well-known novelist, who was telling a story to a charmed +circle, broke in: + +"It was my first journey upon the ocean. We had been greatly interested +in the little fellow because he was a waif from the great Parisian +world, and although at that time tenderly cared for by the gentle woman +who had become his benefactress, somehow he seemed to carry with him +another atmosphere, of loneliness--of isolation. Think of it, a +motherless babe afloat upon the ocean. It was the pathos of life made +visible. He did not realize it, but every heart there beat in sympathy +with his, and when it was whispered that the little voyager was dead, I +think every eye was wet with tears. Dead, almost consumed by fever. With +him had come the picture of a young and beautiful woman. He took it with +him beneath the little hands upon his breast. That night he was laid to +rest. Never had motherless babe such a burial. Gently, as though there +were danger of waking him, we let him sink into the dark waters, there +to be rocked in the lap of the ocean until God's day dawns and the seas +give up their dead. That was thirty years ago; yet to-night I seem to +see that little shrouded form slip down and down and down into the +depths. God grant that its mother was dead." + +When he ceased the elder woman in the little group had bent her head and +was silently weeping. + +"It sounds like a page from the early life of Gaspard Levigne," she said +to her companions. + +And then to the novelist, in a voice brimming over with tenderness: +"Grieve not for the child, my friend. God has given wings to love. There +is no place in all His universe that can hide a baby from its mother. +Love will find a way, be the ocean as wide and deep as eternity itself." + +And then, as they sat wondering, the moon rose above the clouds. Light +flashed upon the waves around them, and a golden path, stretching out +ahead, crossed the far horizon into the misty splendors of the sky. + + +THE END. + + + + +Writings of Harry Stillwell Edwards + + "Two Runaways" and other stories + "His Defense" and other stories + "The Marbeau Cousins" + "Sons and Fathers" + "Eneas Africanus" + "Eneas Africanus, Defendant" + "Just Sweethearts" + "How Sal Came Through" + "Brother Sim's Mistake" + "Isam's Spectacles" + "The Adventures of a Parrot" + "Shadow"--A Christmas Story + "The Vulture and His Shadow" + "On the Mount" + "Mam'selle Delphine" + + +_Others of Our Interesting Books_ Not by Edwards + + "Another Miracle," by John D. Spencer + "July"--A sketch of a real negro, by Bridges Smith + "Sam Simple's First Trip to New Orleans" + "B-Flat Barto"--A Saturday Evening Post Story + "Big-Foot Wallace"--A Texas Story + "Young Marooners," for boys and girls + "Marooner's Island," for boys and girls + "Reminiscences of Sidney Lanier," by George Herbert Clarke + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONS AND FATHERS*** + + +******* This file should be named 36112.txt or 36112.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/1/1/36112 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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