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diff --git a/old/69145-0.txt b/old/69145-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0057494..0000000 --- a/old/69145-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8964 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Caleb Trench, by Mary Imlay Taylor - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Caleb Trench - -Author: Mary Imlay Taylor - -Illustrator: Emlen McConnell - -Release Date: October 12, 2022 [eBook #69145] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by - University of California libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CALEB TRENCH *** - - - - - -CALEB TRENCH - - -[Illustration] - - - - - CALEB TRENCH - - BY - MARY IMLAY TAYLOR - - AUTHOR OF “THE REAPING,” “THE - IMPERSONATOR,” ETC. - - WITH FRONTISPIECE BY - EMLEN McCONNELL - - BOSTON - LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY - 1910 - - - - - _Copyright, 1910_, - BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. - - _All rights reserved_ - - Published March, 1910 - - THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. - - - - -CALEB TRENCH - - - - -CALEB TRENCH - - - - -I - - -DIANA ROYALL pushed back the music-rack and rose from her seat at the -piano. - -“Show the person in here, Kingdom.” - -The negro disappeared, and Diana moved slowly to the table at the -farther end of the long room, and stood there turning over some papers -in her leisurely, graceful way. - -“Who in the world is it now?” Mrs. Eaton asked, looking up from her -solitaire, “a book agent?” - -“Caleb Trench,” Diana replied carelessly, “the shopkeeper at Eshcol.” - -“The storekeeper?” Mrs. Eaton looked as if Diana had said the -chimney-sweep. “What in the world does he want of you, my dear?” - -Diana laughed. “How should I know?” she retorted, with a slight -scornful elevation of her brows; “we always pay cash there.” - -“I wonder that you receive him in the drawing-room,” Mrs. Eaton -remonstrated, shuffling her cards with delicate, much be-ringed -fingers, and that indefinable manner which lingers with some old -ladies, like their fine old lace and their ancestors, and is at once a -definition and classification. Thus, one could see, at a glance, that -Mrs. Eaton had been a belle before the war, for, as we all know, the -atmosphere of belledom is as difficult to dissipate and forget as the -poignant aroma of a moth-ball in an old fur coat, though neither of -them may have served the purposes of preservation. - -The girl made no reply, and the older woman was instinctively aware -of her indifference to her opinions, uttered or unexpressed. There -were times when Diana’s absorption of mood, her frank inattention, -affected her worldly mentor as sharply as a slap in the face, yet, -the next moment, she fell easily under the spell of her personality. -Mrs. Eaton always felt that no one could look at her youthful relative -without feeling that her soul must be as beautiful as her body, though -she herself had never been able to form any estimate of that soul. -Diana hid it with a reserve and a mental strength which folded it away -as carefully as the calyx of a cactus guards the delicate bloom with -its thorns. But the fact that Mrs. Eaton overlooked was still more -apparent, the fact that a great many people never thought of Diana’s -soul at all, being quite content to admire the long and exquisite -curves of her tall figure, the poise of her graceful head, with the -upward wave of its bright hair, and the level glance of her dear eyes -under their thick dark lashes. There was something fine about her -vitality, her freshness, the perfection of her dress and her bearing, -which seemed so harmoniously accentuated by the subdued elegance of -the charming old room. Nature had specialized her by the divine touch -of a beauty that apparently proclaimed the possession of an equally -beautiful spirit; not even the flesh and blood surface seemed always -impenetrable, but rather delicately transparent to every spiritual -variation, like the crystal sphere of the magician. But Mrs. Eaton, -pondering on her young cousin’s personality from a more frivolous -standpoint, took alarm most readily at her independence, and was -overcome now with the impropriety of receiving a village shopkeeper in -the drawing-room after dinner. - -“My dear,” she remonstrated again, “hadn’t you better speak to him in -the hall?” - -Diana looked up from her paper, slightly bored. “In that case, Cousin -Jinny, you couldn’t hear what he said,” she remarked composedly. - -Mrs. Eaton reddened and put a three spot on her ace instead of a two. -“I do not care to--” she began and paused, her utterance abruptly -suspended by the shock of a new perception. - -For, at that moment, Kingdom-Come announced Diana’s unbidden guest and -Mrs. Eaton forgot what she was going to say, forgot her manners in -fact, and gazed frankly at the big man who came slowly and awkwardly -into the room. His appearance, indeed, had quite a singular effect -upon her. She wondered vaguely if she could be impressed, or if it was -only the result of the unexpected contact with the lower class? She -was fond of speaking of the Third Estate; she had found the expression -somewhere during her historical peckings, and appropriated it at once -as a comprehensive phrase with an aristocratic flavor, though its true -meaning proved a little elusive. - -Meanwhile, the unwelcome visitor was confronting Miss Royall and there -was a moment of audible silence. Diana met his glance more fully -than she had ever been aware of doing before, in her brief visits to -his shop, and, like her elderly cousin, she received a new and vital -impression, chiefly from the depth and lucidity of his gaze, which -seemed to possess both composure and penetration; she felt her cheeks -flush hotly, yet was conscious that his look was neither familiar nor -offending, but was rather the glance of a personality as strong as her -own. - -“You wish to speak to me?” she said impatiently, forgetting the fine -courtesy that she usually showed to an inferior. - -As she spoke, her father and Jacob Eaton came in from the dining-room -and, pausing within the wide low doorway, were silent spectators of the -scene. - -“I wished to see you, yes,” said Trench quietly, advancing to the table -and deliberately putting some pennies on it. “When you bought that -piece of muslin this morning I gave you the wrong change. After you -left the shop I found I owed you six cents. I walked over with it this -evening as soon as I closed the doors. I would have left it with your -servant at the door, but he insisted that I must see you in person.” -He added this gravely, deliberately allowing her to perceive that he -understood his reception. - -Diana bit her lip to suppress a smile, and was conscious that Jacob -Eaton was openly hilarious. She was half angry, too, because Trench -had put her in the wrong by recognizing her discourtesy and treating -it courteously. Beyond the circle of the lamplight was the critical -audience of her home-life, her father’s stately figure and white head, -Mrs. Eaton’s elderly elegance, and Jacob’s worldly wisdom. She looked -at Trench with growing coldness. - -“Thank you,” she said, “shall I give you a receipt?” - -He met her eye an instant, and she saw that he was fully cognizant of -her sarcasm. “As you please,” he replied unmoved. - -She felt herself rebuked again, and her anger kindled unreasonably -against the man who was smarting under her treatment. She went to the -table, and taking a sheet of folded note-paper wrote a receipt and -signed it, handing it to him with a slight haughty inclination of the -head which was at once an acknowledgment and a dismissal. - -But again he met her with composure. He took the paper, folded it -twice and put it in his pocketbook, then he bade her good evening and, -passing Eaton with scarcely a glance, bowed to Colonel Royall and went -out, his awkward figure in its rough tweed suit having made a singular -effect in the old-fashioned elegance of Colonel Royall’s house, an -effect that fretted Diana’s pride, for it had seemed to her that, as -he passed, he had overshadowed her own father and dwarfed Jacob Eaton. -Yet, at the time, she thought of none of these things. She pushed the -offending pennies across the table. - -“Cousin Jinny,” she said carelessly, “there are some Peter pence for -your dago beggars.” - -Cousin Jinny gathered up the pennies and dropped them thoughtfully into -the little gold-linked purse on her chatelaine. For years she had been -contributing a yearly subsidy to the ever increasing family of a former -gondolier, the unforgotten grace of whose slender legs had haunted -her memory for twenty years, during which period she had been the -recipient of annual announcements of twins and triplets, whose arrivals -invariably punctuated peculiarly unremunerative years. - -“That man,” she said, referring to Trench and not the gondolier, “that -man is an anarchist.” - -Mrs. Eaton had a settled conviction that all undesirable persons were -anarchists. To her nebulous vision innumerable immigrant ships were -continually unloading anarchists in bulk, as merchantmen might unship -consignments of Sea Island cotton or Jamaica rum; and every fresh -appearance of the social unwashed was to her an advent of an atom from -these incendiary cargoes. - -“I hope you were careful about your receipt, Diana,” said Jacob Eaton, -stopping to light a cigarette at the tall candelabrum on the piano. -“How far did your admirer walk to bring that consignment of pennies?” - -“My admirer?” Diana shot a scornful glance at him. “I call it an -intrusion.” - -“Did he walk over from that little shop at Cross-Roads?” Mrs. Eaton -asked. “I seem to remember a shop there.” - -“It’s seven miles,” said Colonel Royall, speaking for the first time, -“and the roads are bad. I think he is merely scrupulously honest, -Diana,” he added; “I was watching his face.” - -Diana flushed under her father’s eye. “I suppose he is,” she said -reluctantly, “but, pshaw--six cents! He could have handed it to a -servant.” - -“Do you send the servants there?” Colonel Royall asked pointedly. - -“No,” she admitted reluctantly, “I suppose he rarely sees any one from -here, but there was Kingdom at the door.” - -“Who insisted on his seeing you, you remember,” objected her father; -“the soul of Kingdom-Come is above six pennies.” - -“Well, so is mine!” exclaimed Diana pettishly. - -“Seven miles in red clay mud to see you,” mocked Jacob Eaton, smiling -at her. - -“Nonsense!” she retorted. - -“I don’t see why you take that tone, Jacob,” warned his mother a little -nervously. “I call it bad taste; he couldn’t presume to--to--” - -“To walk seven miles?” her son laughed “My dear lady, I’d walk -seventeen to see Diana.” - -“My dear courtier, throw down your cloak in the mud and let me walk -upon it,” retorted Diana scornfully. - -“I have thrown down, instead, my heart,” he replied in a swift -undertone. - -But Diana was watching her father and apparently did not hear him. -Colonel Royall had moved to his usual big chair by the hearth. A few -logs were kindling there, for, though it was early in April, it was a -raw chill evening. The firelight played on the noble and gentle lines -of the colonel’s old face, on his white hair and moustache and in the -mild sweetness of his absent-minded eyes. His daughter, looking at him -fondly, thought him peculiarly sad, and wondered if it was because they -were approaching an anniversary in that brief sad married life which -seemed to have left a scar too deep for even her tender touch. - -“I don’t mind about the amount--six cents may be as sacred to him as -six dollars,” he was saying. “The man has a primitive face, the lines -are quite remarkable, and--” he leaned back and looked over at the -young man by the piano--“Jacob, I’ve heard of this Caleb Trench three -times this week in politics.” - -“A village orator?” mocked Eaton, without dropping his air of -nonchalant superiority, an air that nettled Colonel Royall as much as a -heat-rash. - -He shook his head impatiently. “Ask Mahan,” he said. “I don’t know, -but twice I’ve been told that Caleb Trench could answer this or that, -and yesterday--” he leaned back, shading his eyes with his hand as -he looked into the fire--“yesterday--what was it? Oh--” he stopped -abruptly, and a delicate color, almost a woman’s blush, went up to his -hair. - -“And yesterday?” asked Eaton, suddenly alert, his mocking tone lost, -the latent shrewdness revealing itself through the thin mask of his -commonplace good looks. - -“Well, I heard that he was opposed to Aylett’s methods,” Colonel Royall -said, with evident reluctance, “and that he favored Yarnall.” - -Mrs. Eaton started violently and dropped her pack of cards, and Diana -and she began to gather them up again, Cousin Jinny’s fingers trembling -so much that the girl had to find them all. - -Jacob stood listening, his eyelids drooping over his eyes and his upper -lip twitching a little at the corners like a dog who is puckering his -lip to show his fangs. “Yarnall is a candidate for governor,” he said -coolly. - -Colonel Royall frowned slightly. “I’d rather keep Aylett,” he rejoined. - -“Yarnall had no strength a week ago, but to-day the back counties are -supporting him,” said Eaton, “why, heaven knows! Some one must be -organizing them, but who?” - -Colonel Royall drummed on the arm of his chair with his fingers. “Since -the war there’s been an upheaval,” he said thoughtfully. “It was like -a whirlpool, stirred the mud up from the bottom, and we’re getting it -now. No one can predict anything; it isn’t the day for an old-fashioned -gentleman in politics.” - -“Which is an admission that shopkeepers ought to be in them,” suggested -Jacob, without emotion. - -Colonel Royall laughed. “Maybe it is,” he admitted, “anyway I’m not -proud of my own party out here. I’m willing to stand by my colors, but -I’m usually heartily ashamed of the color bearer. It’s not so much the -color of one’s political coat as the lining of one’s political pockets. -I wish I had Abe Lincoln’s simple faith. What we need now is a man -who isn’t afraid to speak the truth; he’d loom up like Saul among the -prophets.” - -“Again let me suggest the shopkeeper at the Cross-Roads,” said Jacob -Eaton. - -Colonel Royall smiled sadly. “Why not?” he said. “Lincoln was a -barefoot boy. Why not Caleb Trench? Since he’s honest over little -things, he might be over great things.” - -“Is he a Democrat?” Jacob asked suavely. - -“On my word, I don’t know,” replied Colonel Royall. “He’s in Judge -Hollis’ office reading law, so William Cheyney told me.” - -“That old busybody!” Jacob struck the ashes from his cigarette -viciously. - -“Hush!” said Diana, “treason! Don’t you say a word against Dr. Cheyney. -I’ve loved him these many years.” - -“A safe sentiment,” said Jacob. “I’m content to be his rival. Alas, if -he were the only one!” - -“What did you say Caleb Trench was doing in the judge’s office, pa?” -Diana asked, ignoring her cousin. - -“Reading law, my dear,” the colonel answered. - -“I thought he was a poor shopkeeper,” objected Mrs. Eaton. - -“So he is, Jinny,” said the colonel; “but he’s reading law at night. -It’s all mightily to his credit.” - -“He’s altogether too clever, then,” said Mrs. Eaton firmly; “it is just -as I said, he’s an anarchist!” - -“Dear me, let’s talk of some one else,” Diana protested. “The man must -have hoodooed us; we’ve discussed nothing else since he left.” - -“Though lost to sight, to memory dear,” laughed Jacob, throwing back -his sleek dark head, and blowing his cigarette smoke into rings before -his face: he was still leaning against the piano, and his attitude -displayed his well-knit, rather slight figure. His mother, gazing at -him with an admiration not unlike the devotion the heathen extends to -his favorite deity, regarded him as a supreme expression of the best -in manhood and wisdom. To her Jacob was little short of a divinity and -nothing short of a tyrant, under whose despotic rule she had trembled -since he was first able to express himself in the cryptic language of -the cradle, which had meant with him an unqualified and unrestrained -shriek for everything he wanted. She thought he showed to peculiar -advantage, too, in the setting of the old room with its two centers -of light, the lamp on the table and the fire on the hearth, with the -well-worn Turkey rugs, its darkly polished floor, the rare pieces of -Chippendale, and the equally rare old paintings on the walls. There was -a fine, richly toned portrait of Colonel Royall’s grandfather, who had -been with Washington at Yorktown, and there was a Corot and a Van Dyke, -originals that had cost the colonel’s father a small fortune in his -time. Best of all, perhaps, was the Greuze, for there was something in -the shadowy beauty of the head which suggested Diana. - -Colonel Royall himself had apparently forgotten Jacob and his attitude. -The old man was gazing absently into the fire, and the latent -tenderness in his expression, the fine droop of eyes and lips seemed to -suggest some deeper current of thought which the light talk stirred and -brought to the surface. There was a reminiscent sadness in his glance -which ignored the present and warned his daughter of the shoals. She -leaned forward and held her hands out to the blaze. - -“If it’s fine next week, I’m going up to Angel Pass to see if the -anemones are not all in bloom,” she said abruptly. - -Colonel Royall rose, and walking to the window, drew aside the heavy -curtains and looked out. “The night is superb,” he said. “Come here, -Di, and see Orion’s golden sword. If it is like this, we will go -to-morrow.” - -But Diana, going to him, laid a gentle hand on his arm. “To-morrow was -mother’s birthday, pa,” she said softly. - -Mrs. Eaton looked up and caught her son’s eye, and turned her face -carefully from the two in the bay window. “Think of it,” she murmured, -with a look of horrified disapproval, “think of keeping Letty’s -birthday here!” - -But Jacob, glancing at Diana’s unconscious back, signed to her to be -silent. - - - - -II - - -IT was the end of another day when Caleb Trench and his dog, Shot, came -slowly down the long white road from Paradise Ridge. It is a shell -road, exceeding white and hard, and below it, at flood-tide, the river -meadows lie half submerged; it turns the corner below the old mill and -passes directly through the center of Eshcol to the city. Behind the -mill, the feathery green of spring clouded the low hills in a mist -of buds and leafage. The slender stem of a silver birch showed keen -against a group of red cedars. A giant pine thrust its height above its -fellows, its top stripped by lightning and hung with a squirrel’s nest. - -Trench and his dog, a rough yellow outcast that he had adopted, were -approaching the outskirts of Eshcol. Here and there was a farmhouse, -but the wayside was lonely, and he heard only the crows in the -tree-tops. It was past five o’clock and the air was sweet. He smelt -the freshly turned earth in the fields where the robins were hunting -for grubs. Beyond the river the woods were drifted white with wild -cucumber. Yonder, in the corner of a gray old fence, huddled some -of Aaron Todd’s sheep. The keen atmosphere was mellowing at the far -horizon to molten gold; across it a drifting flight of swallows was -sharply etched, an eddying maelstrom of graceful wings. - -In the middle of the road Caleb Trench was suddenly aware of a small -figure, which might have been three years old, chubby and apparently -sexless, for it was clad in a girl’s petticoats and a boy’s jacket, its -face round and smeared with jelly. - -“Sammy,” said Trench kindly, “how did you get here?” - -“Penny,” said Sammy, “wants penny!” - -To Sammy the tall man with the homely face and clear gray eyes was a -mine of pennies and consequently of illicit candy; the soul of Sammy -was greedy as well as his stomach. Trench thrust his hand into his -pocket and produced five pennies. Sammy’s dirty little fist closed on -them with the grip of the nascent financier. - -“Sammy tired,” he sobbed, “wants go to candy man’s!” - -Trench stooped good-naturedly and lifted the bundle of indescribable -garments; he had carried it before, and the candy man was only a -quarter of a mile away. He was raising the child to his shoulder when -the growth of pokeberry bushes at the roadside shook and a woman darted -out from behind it. She was scarcely more than a girl and pitifully -thin and wan. Her garments, too, were sexless; she wore a girl’s short -skirt and a man’s waistcoat; a man’s soft felt hat rested on a tangled -mass of hair,--the coarse and abundant hair of peasant ancestry. She -ran up to him and snatched the child out of his arms. - -“You shan’t have him!” she cried passionately; “you shan’t touch -him--he’s mine!” - -Sammy screamed dismally, clutching his pennies. - -“Never mind, Jean,” said Trench quietly. “I know he’s yours.” - -“He’s mine!” She was stamping her foot in passion, her thin face -crimson, the veins standing out on her forehead. “He’s mine--you may -try ter get him, but you won’t--you won’t--you won’t!” she screamed. - -The child was frightened now, and clasped both arms around her neck, -screaming too. - -“I was only offering to carry him to the candy man’s, Jean,” Trench -said; “don’t get so excited. I know the child is yours.” - -“He’s mine!” she cried again, “mine! That’s my shame, they call it, and -preach at me, and try ter take him away. They want ’er steal him, but -they shan’t; they shan’t touch him any more’n you shall! He’s mine; God -gave him ter me, and I’ll keep him. You can kill me, but you shan’t -have him noways!” She was quivering from head to foot, her wild eyes -flashing, her face white now with the frenzy that swept away every -other thought. - -“Hush,” said Trench sternly, “no one wants to steal the child, Jean; -it’s only your fancy. Be quiet.” - -He spoke with such force that the girl fell back, leaning against the -fence, holding the sobbing child tight, her eyes devouring the man’s -strong, clean-featured face. Her clouded mind was searching for -memories. She had lost her wits when Sammy was born without a father to -claim him. Trench still stood in the middle of the road, and his figure -was at once striking and homely. He was above the average height, -big-boned and lean, the fineness of his head and the power of his face -not less notable because of a certain awkwardness that, at first, -disguised the real power of the man, a power so vital that it grew upon -you until his personality seemed to stand out in high relief against -the commonplace level of humanity. He had the force and vitality of a -primitive man. - -The girl crouched against the fence, and the two looked at each other. -Suddenly she put the child down and, coming cautiously nearer, pointed -with one hand, the other clenched against her flat chest. - -“I know you,” she whispered, in a strange penetrating voice, “I know -you at last--_you’re him_.” - -Trench regarded her a moment in speechless amazement, then the full -significance of her words was borne in upon him by the wild rage in -her eyes. He knew she was half crazed and saw his peril if this belief -became fixed in her mind. Often as he had seen her she had never -suggested such a delusion as was then taking root in her demented brain. - -“You are mistaken,” he said gently, slowly, persuasively, trying to -impress her, as he might a child; “you have forgotten; I only came to -Eshcol four years ago. You have not known me two years, Jean; you are -thinking of some one else.” - -A look of cunning succeeded the fury in her eyes, as she peered at him. -“It’s like you ter say it,” she cried triumphantly at last, “it’s like -you ter hide. You’re afeard, you were always afeard--coward, coward!” - -Trench laid his powerful hand on her shoulder and almost shook her. “Be -still,” he said authoritatively, “it is false. You know it’s false. I -am not he.” - -She wrenched away from him, laughing and crying together. “’Tis him,” -she repeated; “I know him by this!” and she suddenly snatched at the -plain signet ring that he wore on his left hand. - -Trench drew his hand away in anger, his patience exhausted. “Jean,” he -said harshly, “you’re mad.” - -“No!” she shook her head, still pointing at him, “no--it is you!” - -She was pointing, her wild young face rigid, as a carriage came toward -them. Trench looked up and met the calm gaze of Colonel Royall and -Diana, who occupied the back seat. In front, beside the negro coachman, -Jacob Eaton leaned forward and stared rudely at the group in the dust. - -“What is the matter, Jacob?” the old man asked, as the carriage passed. - -The young one laughed. “The old story, I reckon, Colonel,” he said -affably, “begging Diana’s pardon.” - -“You needn’t beg my pardon. It was Jean Bartlett, pa,” she added, -blushing suddenly. - -“Poor girl!” The colonel touched his lips thoughtfully. “By gad, I -wish I knew who was the father of her child--I’d make him keep her from -starving.” - -“You do that, pa,” said Diana quietly. - -“I reckon the father’s there now,” said Jacob Eaton, with a slight -sneer. - -Diana flashed a look at the back of his head which ought to have -scorched it. “It is only the shopkeeper at Eshcol,” she said haughtily. - -“Are shopkeepers immune, Diana?” asked Jacob Eaton, chuckling. - -“I am immune from such conversations,” replied Diana superbly. - -Jacob apologized. - -Meanwhile, the group by the wayside had drawn nearer together. “I will -take your child home, for you are tired,” said Trench sternly, “but I -tell you that I do not know your story and you don’t know me. If you -accuse me of being that child’s father, you are telling a falsehood. Do -you understand what a falsehood is, Jean?” - -His face was so stern that the girl cowered. - -“No,” she whimpered, “I--I won’t tell, I swore it, I won’t tell his -name.” - -“Neither will you take mine in vain,” said Caleb Trench, and he lifted -the sobbing Sammy. - -Cowed, Jean followed, and the strange procession trailed down the -white road. Overhead the tall hickories were in flower. The carriage -of Colonel Royall had cast dust on Trench’s gray tweed suit and it had -powdered Shot’s rough hair. The dog trailed jealously at his heels, -not giving precedence to Jean Bartlett. The girl walked droopingly, -and now that the fire of conviction had died out of her face, it was -shrunken again, like a thin paper mask from behind which there had -flashed, for a moment, a Hallowe’en candle. They began to pass people. -Aaron Todd, stout farmer and lumberman, rode by in his wagon and nodded -to Trench, staring at the child. Jean he knew. Then came two more -farmers, and later a backwoodsman, who greeted Trench as he galloped -past on his lean, mud-bespattered horse. Then two women passed on the -farther side. They spoke to Trench timidly, for he was a reserved man -and they did not know him well, but they drew away their skirts from -Jean, who was the Shameful Thing at Paradise Ridge. - -Strange thoughts beset Caleb; suddenly the girl’s accusation went home; -suppose he had been the father of this child on his arm,--would they -pass him and speak, and pass her with skirts drawn aside? God knew. He -thought it only too probable, knowing men--and women. He was a just -man on occasions, but at heart a passionate one. Inwardly he stormed, -outwardly he was calm. The dog trailed behind him; so did the girl, a -broken thing, who had just sense enough to feel the women’s eyes. They -passed more people. Again Caleb answered salutations, again he heard -the girl whimper as if she shrank from a blow. - -At her own door, which was her grandmother’s, he set down the child. -A shrill voice began screaming. “Is the hussy there? Come in with you, -you thing of shame; what d’ye walk in the road for? The Ridge is fair -screamin’ with your disgrace, you trollop. Jean, Jean!” - -The old woman was childish, but she knew the tale and retained it. -There was also a half-foolish brother; it seemed as if, in the making -of this luckless family, the usual three pints of wits had been spilled -to a half pint and then diluted to go around. Zeb Bartlett came to the -door, shambling and dirty, but grinning at the sight of Trench. Sammy -ran from him shrieking, for he feared the theft of his spoils. Zeb -towered in righteous wrath as Jean appeared. - -“Get in, Shameless!” he commanded. - -The girl shrank past him sobbing. - -“My God!” said Caleb Trench and turned away. - -He did not heed an appeal for help to get work that Zeb shouted after -him; he was, for the moment, deaf. Before him lay the broad fields -and sloping hills, the beauty of earth and sky, drenched in sunset; -behind lay a girl’s purgatory. He forgot his anger at her senseless -accusation, he forgot the peril of it, in his wrath; he hated -injustice. Only the yellow dog followed at his heels and his heart was -full of strange thoughts. Five years of isolation and injustice must -tell in a man’s life, and the purposes born there in solitude are grim. -The great trial that was to divide Eshcol against itself was growing, -growing out of the sweet spring twilight, growing beyond the song of -the thrush and the cheep of the woodpecker, growing in the heart of a -man. - -Meanwhile, Jacob Eaton had called Trench the father of Jean Bartlett’s -child, and old Scipio, who drove the colonel’s bays, heard it and told -it to Kingdom-Come Carter, who had been butler at Broad Acres for fifty -years, and had carried Diana in his arms when she was two weeks old. -Kingdom-Come told it to Aunt Charity and Uncle Juniper, coal-black -negroes of the cabin, and thus by kitchens and alley-doors the story -traveled, as a needle will travel through the body and work its way to -the surface. The reputation of a man is but the breath on a servant’s -lips, as man himself is compared to grass and the flower of it. - - - - -III - - -TRENCH walked slowly homeward. Colonel Royall’s place, the largest -of its kind in the neighborhood of Eshcol, was on a hill above the -town, and Trench’s nearest path lay not by the highroad but past the -Colonel’s gates along a lovely trail that led through a growth of -stunted cedars out into the open ground above the river, and thence -by a solitary and wooded path known sometimes as the Trail of the -Cedar-bird, because those little birds haunted it at certain seasons of -the year. - -It was now broad moonlight, and Trench, who was peculiarly susceptible -to the sights and sounds of Nature, was aware of the beauty of every -tremulous shadow. The chill spring air was sweet with the aromatic -perfume of pines and cedars, and, as he turned the shoulder of -the hill, his eye swept the new-plowed fields. He could smell the -grapevines that were blooming in masses by the wayside, promising a -full harvest of those great purple grapes that had given the settlement -its name. Below him the river forked, and in its elbow nestled the -center of the village, the church at the Cross-Roads, and the little -red schoolhouse where Peter Mahan had fought Jacob Eaton and whipped -him at the age of twelve, long before Caleb Trench had even heard -of Eshcol. To the left was the Friends’ Meeting-House, Judge Hollis’ -home, and the lane which led to Trench’s shop and office. Beyond, he -discerned the little old white house where Dr. William Cheyney lived, -but that was where Eshcol lapped over on to Little Paradise, for they -had bridged the creek ten years before. Across the river lay the city, -big and smoky and busy, its spires rising above its shining roofs. - -A light mist, diaphanous and shimmering, floated over the lowlands by -the water, and above it the dark green of the young foliage and the -lovely slope of clovered fields seemed to assume a new and beautiful -significance, to suggest mysterious unfoldings, buds and blossoming -time, the gathered promise of a hundred springs, that mysterious -awakening of life which stirred the lonely man’s imagination with a -thrill of pleasure as poignant as it was unusual. To him these lonely -walks at sunrise and moonrise had been his greatest solace, and there -was a companionship in the slight hushed sounds of woodland life which -approached his inner consciousness more nearly than the alien existence -that circumstances had forced upon him. He was a stranger in almost a -strange land. He had been born and brought up in Philadelphia, and his -family belonged to the Society of Friends. Personally, Caleb Trench was -not orthodox, but the bias of his early training held, and the poverty -that had followed his father’s business failure had tended to increase -the simplicity of the boy’s narrowed life. When death had intervened -and taken first his father, whom business ruin had broken, and then -his mother and sister, Caleb had severed the last tie that bound him -to the East and started West to make his fortune, with the boundless -confidence of youth that he would succeed. The lodestar that has drawn -so many on that fantastic quest had drawn him, and failing in first one -venture and then another, because it is easier to buy experience than -to accumulate wealth, he had come at last to the little shop at Eshcol -and the study of law. Wherein lay the touchstone of his life, though he -knew it not. - -Pausing now, a moment, to view his favorite scene, the lowlands by the -river under their silvery mantle of vapor, he turned and took the sharp -descent from the bluff to the old turnpike. A cherry tree in full bloom -stood like a ghost at the corner of Judge Hollis’ orchard, and the long -lane was white with the falling petals. A light shone warmly through -the crimson curtains of Judge Hollis’ library window, and Caleb took -the familiar path to the side door. The latch was usually down, but -to-night he had to knock, and the judge’s sister, Miss Sarah, opened -the door. - -“Is that you, Caleb?” she said, in her high thin voice; “wipe your -feet. I wish men folks were all made like cherubs anyway, then there -wouldn’t be all this mud tracked over my carpets.” - -“We might moult our wing feathers, Miss Sarah,” Caleb ventured -unsmilingly, while he obeyed his instructions to the letter. - -“I’d as lief have feathers as pipe ashes,” she retorted; “in fact I’d -rather--I could make pillows of ’em.” - -“You can’t complain of my pipe ashes, Miss Sarah,” Trench said, a slow -laugh dawning in the depths of his gray eyes. “Is the judge at home?” - -“Can’t you smell tobacco smoke?” she replied, moving in front of him -across the entry, her tall figure, in its plain green poplin with -the turn-down collar of Irish lace, recalling to Trench, in the most -extreme of contrasts, the other tall figure in its beautiful evening -dress, that had stood so haughtily in Colonel Royall’s drawing-room, -seeming to him the most perfect expression of beauty and charming grace -that he had ever seen, though he still felt the sting of Diana’s glance -and the sarcasm of her receipt. He had carried the money back in good -faith, for his Quaker training made six cents as significant to him as -six hundred cents, but, under all his strong and apparently unmoved -exterior, there was a quick perception of the attitude of others -toward his views and toward himself. In the strength of his own virile -character he had not fully realized where he stood in her eyes, but -after that night he did not forget it. Meanwhile, Miss Sarah had opened -the study door. - -“Judge,” she called to her brother, “Caleb’s here.” - -There was no response, and she went away, leaving Caleb to find his own -welcome. He went in and closed the door. Judge Hollis was sitting at -his desk smoking a long black pipe and writing carefully in a hand as -fine and accurate as a steel engraving. - -The room was low, papered with old-fashioned bandbox paper and filled -with bookcases with glass doors, every one of which hung open. In the -corner was a life-sized bust of Daniel Webster. As Caleb entered, -the judge swung around in his revolving chair and eyed him over his -spectacles. He was a big man with a large head covered with abundant -white hair, a clean-shaven face with a huge nose, shaped like a hawk’s -and placed high between the deep-set eyes. - -“Trench,” he said abruptly, “if they elect Aylett they’ll have to stuff -the ballot-boxes. What’ll you do then?” - -“Take the stuffing out of them, Judge,” Trench replied promptly and -decisively. - -The judge looked at him, a grim smile curling the corners of his large -mouth. “They’ll tar and feather you,” he said. - -Trench sat down and took up a calf-bound volume. “I’m enough of a -Quaker still to speak out in meeting,” he observed. - -“The only thing I know about Quakers makes ’em seem like Unitarians,” -said the judge, “and a Unitarian is a kind of stylish Jew. What have -you been doing with the backwoodsmen, Caleb? Mahan tells me they’re -organized--” the judge smiled outright now--“I don’t believe it.” - -Caleb Trench smiled too. “I don’t know much about organizing, Judge,” -he said simply. “When men come into my shop and ask questions I answer -them; that’s all there is about it.” - -“We’ll have to shut up that shop, I reckon,” the judge said, “but -then you’ll open your darned law office and give ’em sedition by the -brief instead of by the yard. I deserve hanging for letting you read -law here. I’ve been a Democrat for seventy years, and you’re a black -Republican.” - -Trench closed the law book on his finger. “Judge,” he said slowly, “I’m -a man of my own convictions. My father wouldn’t stand for anything I -do, yet he was the best man I ever knew, and I’d like to be true to -him. It isn’t in me to follow in the beaten track, that’s all.” - -The judge twinkled. “You’re an iconoclast,” he said, “and so’s Sarah, -yet women, as a rule, are safe conservatives. They’ll hang on to an -old idea as close as a hen to a nest-egg. Perhaps I’m the same. Anyway -I can’t stand for your ways; I wash my hands of it all. I wish they’d -drop Yarnall; his nomination means blood on the face of the moon. -There’s the feud with the Eatons, and I wouldn’t trust Jacob Eaton to -forget it, not by a darned sight; he’s too pesky cold-blooded,--the -kind of man that holds venom as long as a rattler.” - -“Then, if you don’t like Yarnall, why not vote for Mahan?” Trench was -beginning to enjoy himself. He leaned back in his chair with his head -against a shelf of the bookcase, the light from the judge’s lamp -falling full on his remarkable face, clean-shaven like his host’s, on -the strong line of the jaw, and on the mouth that had the faculty of -locking itself in granite lines. - -“Because, damn it, I’m a Democrat!” said the old man angrily. - -“By conviction or habit?” - -The judge scowled. “By conviction first, sir, and by habit last, and -for good and all, anyway!” - -Caleb Trench laughed softly. “Judge,” he said, “what of Jacob Eaton?” - -The judge shot a quick look from under scowling brows. “Seen him -lately?” - -The younger man thought a moment. “Yes, last night. I owed Miss Royall -some change and took it to the house. Eaton was there.” - -“How much change?” asked Hollis abruptly. - -“Six cents.” - -“What!” - -Trench reddened. “Six cents,” he repeated doggedly. - -“And you took it up there and paid Diana Royall?” - -“Certainly, Judge, in the drawing-room; she gave me a receipt.” - -The judge exploded with laughter; he roared and slapped his knee. - -Caleb Trench bore it well, but the color of his eyes, which was -blue-gray, became more gray than blue. “I owed it,” he said. - -At which the judge laughed more. Then he dropped back into his old -attitude and wiped his eyes. “You walked up there--seven miles--to see -Diana?” - -Trench stiffened. “No,” he said flatly, “I did not; I’ve got more -sense. I know perfectly how Miss Royall estimates a shopkeeper,” he -added, with a bitterness which he could not suppress. - -The judge looked at him curiously. “How do you know?” he asked. - -Trench returned his look without a word, and Judge Hollis colored; it -was not the first time that the young man had rebuked him and let him -know that he could not trespass on forbidden ground. The old lawyer -fingered his brief an instant in annoyed silence, then he spoke of -something else. - -“I’ll tell you about the feud,” he said irrelevantly; “it began seventy -years ago over a piece of ground that lay between the two properties; -Christopher Yarnall claimed it and so did Jacob Eaton, this man’s -grandfather. There was a fence war for years, then Yarnall won. -Winfield Mahan, Peter’s grandfather, won by a fifteen-hour speech. They -said the jurymen all fell asleep in the box and voted in a nightmare. -Anyway he got it, and Mahan got more money for the case than the whole -place was worth. That was the beginning. Chris Yarnall’s son married a -pretty girl from Lexington, and she fell in love with Eaton, Jacob’s -father. There was a kind of fatality about the way those two families -got mixed up. Everybody saw how things were going except Jinny Eaton, -his wife. She was playing belle at Memphis, and Jacob was about a year -old. Eaton tried to run away with Mrs. Yarnall, that’s the size of it, -and Yarnall shot him. There was a big trial and the Eatons claimed that -Eaton was innocent. Young Mrs. Yarnall swore he was, and fainted on the -stand, but the Yarnalls knew he wasn’t innocent, and they got Yarnall -off. He wouldn’t live with his wife after that; there was a divorce and -he married a Miss Sarah Garnett. This Garnett Yarnall, they want to -run, is his son. Of course the whole Eaton clan hate the Yarnalls like -the devil, and Jacob hates Garnett worse than that, because he’s never -been able to run him. Jacob likes to run things in a groove; he’s a -smart fellow, is Jacob.” - -Trench said nothing; he had filled his pipe and sat smoking, the law -book closed on his finger. The judge swung back in his chair and -clasped his hands behind his head. - -“Of course he’ll marry Diana Royall. They’re fourth cousins; Jinny -is the colonel’s second cousin, on his mother’s side; there’s a good -deal of money in the family, and I reckon they want to keep it there. -Anyway, Jacob’s set his mind--I’m not saying his heart, for I don’t -know that he’s got one--on getting Diana; that’s as plain as the nose -on a man’s face, but Diana--well, there’s a proposition for you!” and -the judge chuckled. - -Trench knocked the ashes from his pipe very carefully into a little -cracked china plate that Miss Sarah provided for the judge, and the -judge never used. “Eaton is interested in some speculating schemes, -isn’t he?” he asked, without referring to Diana. - -The judge nodded. “He’s president of a company developing some lands in -Oklahoma, and he’s connected in Wall Street; Jacob’s a smart fellow.” - -“Colonel Royall is interested, too, I suppose,” Trench suggested -tentatively. - -“Yep, got pretty much all his spare cash in, I reckon; the colonel -loves to speculate. It’s in the blood, one way or another. His -grandfather kept the finest race-horses in the South, and his father -lost a small fortune on them. Of course David has to dip in, but he’s -never been much for horses. Besides, he had a blow; his wife--” The -judge stopped abruptly and looked up. - -The door of the study had been opening softly and closing again for the -last few minutes. As he paused it opened wider, and a woolly head came -in cautiously. - -“What is it, Juniper?” he asked impatiently. “Don’t keep a two-inch -draught on my back; come in or stay out.” - -The old negro opened the door wide enough to squeeze his lean body -through and closed it behind him. - -“Evenin’, Jedge,” he said; “evenin’, Marse Trench.” - -“What do you want now?” demanded the judge, taking off his spectacles -to polish them. There was the ghost of a smile about his grim lips. - -Juniper turned his hat around slowly and looked into the crown; it was -a battered old gray felt and he saw the pattern of the carpet through a -hole in it. “I’ve laid off ter ask yo’ how much it wud cost ter git er -divorce, suh?” - -Judge Hollis put on his spectacles and looked at him thoughtfully. -“Depends on the circumstances, Juniper,” he replied. “I suppose Aunt -Charity is tired of you at last?” - -“No, suh, _she_ ain’t, but I ez,” said Juniper indignantly; “she done -b’haved so onerary dat I’se sho gwine ter be divorced, I ez, ef it don’ -cost too much,” he added dolefully. - -The judge’s eyes twinkled. “You’ll have to pay her alimony,” he said. - -“What’s dat?” Juniper demanded with anxiety. - -“So much a week out of your wages,” explained Trench, catching the -judge’s eye. - -“I ain’t gwine ter do it, noways,” said Juniper firmly. - -“Don’t you have to support her now?” Trench asked mildly. - -Juniper looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I’se allus been proud -ob de way she done washin’, suh,” he said; “she sho do mek money dat -away, an’ I ain’t gwine ter complain ob noffin but de way she behaved -’bout Miss Eaton’s silver teapot, dat Miss Jinny done gib me fo’ a -birthday present.” - -“Silver teapot?” Caleb Trench looked questioningly at the judge. - -“Juniper had a birthday,” Judge Hollis explained grimly, “and Aunt -Charity gave him a birthday party. I reckon we all sent Juniper -something, but Jinny Eaton gave him a silver-plated teapot, and there -have been squalls ever since. Who’s got that teapot now, Juniper?” - -“She hab,” said Juniper indignantly. “I locked dat teapot in my trunk, -Judge, an’ I done tole her dat she couldn’t hab it when I died bekase -she’d gib it ter dat mean trash son ob hers, Lysander, an’ when I wus -out she done got a locksmith ter gib her a key ter fit dat trunk, -an’ she got dat teapot, an’ she’s gwine ter gib tea ter Deacon Plato -Eaton, an’ he hab er wife already, not sayin’ noffin ’bout concubines. -I ain’t gwine ter hab him drinkin’ no tea outen dat silver teapot dat -Miss Jinny done gib me. I’se gwine ter git divorcement an’ I wants dat -teapot.” - -“Why don’t you settle it with Uncle Plato?” asked the judge. “Assault -and battery is cheaper than divorce.” - -Juniper rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. “De fact ez, Jedge,” -he said, “I ain’t sho dat I’se gwine ter whip him.” - -“Juniper,” said the judge, “you tell Uncle Plato from me that if he -drinks tea out of that teapot you’ll sue him for ten thousand dollars -damages for alienating your wife’s affections.” - -Juniper looked at him admiringly. “I sho will, Jedge,” he said. -“Alyanatying her ’fections! I sho will! Dat sounds mos’ ez bad ez -settin’ fire ter de cou’t-house. I ’low Plato ain’t gwine ter cotch et -ef he kin help it. I sho ez grateful ter yo’ all, Jedge.” - -The judge swung his revolving chair around to his desk. “Very good,” he -said grimly; “you can go now, Juniper.” - -The old man turned and shuffled back to the door; as he opened it he -bowed again. “Alyanatying her ’fections! I ’low I ain’t gwine ter -fergit dat. Evenin’, gentermen,” and he closed the door. - -The judge looked across at Caleb. “That’s one of the Eaton faction,” -he remarked grimly. “Yarnall has to contend with that kind of cattle. -Juniper’s sold, body and soul, to the Eatons, and that old fool, Jinny -Eaton, gave him a silver-plated teapot for his birthday. You might -as well give a nigger a diamond sunburst or a tame bear. He and his -wife have been at swords’ points ever since, but as sure as the first -Tuesday in November comes, that whole black horde will vote the Eaton -ticket.” - -Caleb Trench regarded the judge thoughtfully. “You’d like to -disfranchise the negro,” he remarked. - -Hollis grunted. “You’re a black Republican,” he said bitingly. - -Trench shook his head. “No, sir, a conservative,” he replied, “but an -honest man, I hope. I haven’t much more use for the ignorant black vote -than you have, but that question isn’t the one that hits me, Judge.” - -The judge looked keenly at the grim composure of the face opposite. -“What does?” - -“Dishonesty, fraud, and intimidation,” Trench answered. - -“And you propose to oppose and expose them?” The old man was keenly -interested, his heavy brows drawn down, his eyes sparkling. - -“I do.” - -Judge Hollis rose and went over to the younger man. He laid his hand on -his shoulder. “You’re a poor man, Trench; they’ll ruin you.” - -“So be it.” - -“You’re alone; they’ll kill you,” warned the judge. - -Trench rose, and as his tall figure towered, the fine width of his brow -and the peculiar lucidity of his glance had never seemed more striking. -Judge Hollis watched him in grim admiration. - -“I’ve got but one life,” he said, “and, as God sees me, I’ll live that -life in fear of no man.” - -The judge walked slowly back to his seat, took off his spectacles and -laid them down beside his brief. “Reckon Jacob Eaton’s got his match at -last,” he said, “and, by the Lord Harry, I’m glad of it!” - - - - -IV - - -DIANA ROYALL turned her horse’s head from the highroad and began to -descend the Trail of the Cedar-bird. It was late afternoon, and the -glory of the west was suddenly obscured with a bank of purple clouds; -the distant rumble of thunder jarred the stillness, and a moisture, -the promise of heavy rain, filled the air. Long streamers of angry -clouds drifted across the upper sky, and far off the tall pines stirred -restlessly. - -Regardless of these threatenings of Nature, Diana rode on, under the -interlacing boughs, swaying forward sometimes in her saddle to avoid -a sweeping branch, while her horse picked his way in the narrow path, -often sending a loose stone rolling ahead of them or crackling a -fallen limb. Through long aisles of young green she caught glimpses of -the river; now and then a frightened rabbit scurried across the path -or a squirrel chattered overhead. She loved the voices of the wild -things, the fragrant stillness of the pinewoods, the perfume of young -blossomings. She brought her horse to a walk, passing slowly along the -trail; even the soft young leaves that brushed against her shoulder -were full of friendships. She loved the red tips of the maples, and the -new buds of the hemlocks; she knew where she ought to hear the sweet -call--“Bob White!”--and once, before the clouds threatened so darkly, -she caught the note of a song-sparrow. Life was sweet; there was a joy -merely in living, and she tried to crowd out of her mind that little -angry prick of mortification that had stung her ever since she met the -eyes of Caleb Trench across her receipt. He had known that she mocked -him, had scorned to notice it, and had showed that he was stronger -mentally than she was. In that single instant Diana had felt herself -small, malicious, discourteous, and the thought of it was like the -taste of wormwood. She resented it, and resenting it, blamed herself -less than she blamed Trench. Why had he come on such a silly errand? -Why had he tempted her to rudeness? The question had fretted her for -weeks; for weeks she had avoided passing the little old house at the -Cross-Roads where Caleb had lived now for three years. Yet, when she -came to the opening in the cedars, she drew near unconsciously and -looked down at the old worn gable of his roof. It faced northeast, and -there was moss on its shingles; she saw a little thin trail of smoke -clinging close to the lip of the chimney, for the atmosphere was heavy. - -Then she turned impatiently in the saddle, breaking her vagrant -thoughts away from the solitary man, secretly angry that she had -thought of him at all. Her glance fell on a mass of blossoming wild -honeysuckle, and the loveliness of its rose tintings drew her; she -slipped to the ground and patting her horse, left the bridle loose on -his neck. She had to gather up her skirts and thread her way through -a bracken of ferns before she reached the tempting flowers and began -to gather them. She broke off a few sprays and clustered them in her -hands, pausing to look out across the newly plowed fields to her right; -they had been sown to oats, and it seemed to her that she saw the first -faint drift of green on the crests of the furrows. The next moment a -crash of thunder shook the air, the trees overhead cracked and bent low -before the onrush of the sudden gust. Her horse, a restive creature, -shied violently and stood shivering with fear. Diana, grasping her -flowers, started through the ferns, calling to him, but a blinding -flash followed by more thunder forestalled her; the horse rose on his -haunches and stood an instant, quivering, a beautiful untamed creature, -his mane flying in the wind, and then plunged forward and galloped down -the trail. - -Diana called to him again helplessly and foolishly, for her voice was -lost in the crackling of boughs and the boom of thunder; she was alone -in the lonely spot, with the wind whistling in her ears. It ripped -the leaves from the trees overhead and she stood in a hail of green -buds. The fury of the gale increased, the black clouds advanced across -the heavens with long streamers flying ahead of them, the light in -the upper sky went out, darkness increased; suddenly the woods were -twilight and she heard no sound but the mighty rush of the wind. -As yet no rain fell, only leaves, broken twigs, and, at last, great -branches crashed. The lightning tore the clouds apart in fearful rents. - -It was a long way home, seven and a half miles, and already big drops -spattered through the trees. Strangely enough, a thought of Caleb’s -walk with the six cents flashed in upon her and she resented it. Yet -the nearest shelter was the little shop at the Cross-Roads. It made -no difference, she would face the storm; and she started boldly down -the trail though the bushes whipped against her skirt and the boughs -threatened her. Once a rolling stone nearly threw her down, but she -kept resolutely on. If the horse went home riderless, what would they -think? She could only dimly conjecture Colonel Royall’s distress, but -she would not go to the little shop to telephone; she would walk home! - -She kept steadily on. Twice the force of the wind almost drove her -back; twice she had to stop and steady herself against a tree trunk. -The thought came to her that she had been foolish to stay out so long, -but she scarcely heeded it now, for the wind had torn her hat off and -loosened her hair, and it was whipping her clothes about and tearing -at her like a malicious spirit. She reached the end of the path and -came into the turnpike just as the rain came in a blinding sheet, white -as sea-spray, and closed down around her with a rush of water like a -cloudburst. She kept on with difficulty now, scarcely seeing her way, -and another rolling stone caught her foot. She stumbled and nearly -fell, straightening herself with an agony darting through her ankle; -she had given it a sharp twist and it no longer bore her weight without -anguish. She reeled against a fence at the wayside and held to it, -trying to be sure that she was in the road. Then another flash showed -her the shop at the Cross-Roads, not twenty feet away. An hour before -she could not have imagined her joy at seeing it, now she had only the -hope that she could reach it. The pain in her ankle increased, and -her drenched clothes clung to her; she pulled herself forward slowly, -clinging to the fence. The roar of the wind filled the world, and the -rain drove in her face. - -She did not see the man in the door of the shop; she did not know -that, looking at the storm, he saw a figure clinging to the fence, but -she suddenly felt herself lifted from the ground and borne forward in -strong arms. Then something seemed to snap in her brain, she swam in -darkness for a moment, with the throb of pain reaching up to her heart, -before she lost even the consciousness of that. - -Afterwards, when light began to filter back, she was being carried -still, and almost instantly full comprehension returned. She was aware -that it was Caleb Trench who carried her, and that he did it easily, -though she was no light burden. He was taking her from the shop into -his office beyond when she recovered, and she roused herself with an -effort and tried to slip to the floor. - -“Be careful,” he said quickly, with an authority in his tone which, -even at that moment, reached her; “you may have sprained or broken your -ankle, I do not know which.” And he carried her to a plain old leather -lounge in the corner and put her gently down. “Are you in pain?” he -asked, turning up the lamp which he had already lighted. - -The light fell on his face as well as upon hers, and as she looked -up, Diana was impressed with the vivid force, the directness, the -self-absorption of the man’s look. If her presence there meant anything -to him, if he had felt her beauty and her charm as she lay helpless in -his arms, he gave no sign. It was a look of power, of reserve, of iron -will; she was suddenly conscious of an impulse to answer him as simply -as a child. - -“It is nothing,” she said; “I don’t believe I’m even hurt much. Where -did you find me?” - -“Almost at my door,” he replied, moving quietly to a kind of cupboard -at the other side of the room and pouring some brandy into a glass. -“You must drink this; your clothing is soaked through and I have -nothing dry to offer you, but if you can, come to the fire.” - -Diana took the liquor and drank it obediently, unconsciously yielding -to the calm authority of his manner. Then she tried to rise, but once -on her feet, staggered, and would have fallen but for his arm. He -caught her and held her erect a moment, then gathered her up without a -word, and carried her to a seat by the little open stove into which -he had already thrown some wood. Diana sank into his old armchair -with crimson cheeks. She was half angry, half amused; he was treating -her like an injured child, and with as little heed of her grand-dame -manners as if she had been six years old. - -“I have telephoned to Dr. Cheyney,” he said simply, “but, of course, -this storm will delay him.” - -“I am not ill,” Diana protested. “I am not even badly hurt; my horse -ran away, and I--I think I sprained my ankle.” - -“You were clinging to the fence,” Trench said, without apparent -emotion, “and you fainted when I lifted you.” - -She sickened at the memory, yet was woman enough to resent the man’s -indifference. “I’m sorry you ’phoned for poor old Dr. Cheyney,” she -said stiffly; “please ’phone to my people to send for me.” - -“I tried,” he replied, undisturbed by her hauteur, “but the storm must -have interfered. I can’t get them, and now I can’t get Dr. Cheyney.” - -“How long was I unconscious?” she asked quickly, trying to piece -together her recovery and all that he had done. - -“Ten minutes,” he answered. “I saw the horse going by riderless and -went out to look. It seemed a long time before I saw you coming and -carried you into the shop. I thought you were not coming to, and you -were so soaked with water that I had lifted you to bring you to the -fire when you recovered.” - -“I hope Jerry got home,” she said thoughtfully. “It was my folly; I saw -how black the clouds were, and I ought to have gone home.” - -Trench stooped for more wood and fed the fire, the glow lighting up his -face again. “Where were you?” he asked simply, and then “I beg your -pardon--” - -“I was up the trail,” she said quietly. “I stayed too long. It was -beautiful; all the young things are budding. I dismounted to gather -some wild honeysuckle--and it is gone!” - -For the first time his eyes met hers with a glow of understanding. “Did -you notice the turn above the river?” he asked, still feeding the fire. - -She smiled reluctantly. “How white the cucumber is,” she answered, “and -did you see the red tips of the maples? How glossy the new green leaves -look!” - -“There is a place there, where the old hickory fell, where you can see -the orchard and that low meadow by the lane--” His face was almost -boyish, eager for sympathy, awakened, changed. - -“It is beautiful,” Diana replied, nodding, “and one hears the Bob White -there.” - -“Ah!” he breathed softly, “you noticed?” - -Diana leaned her elbow on the worn arm of his chair and nestled her -chin in her hand, watching him. After all, what manner of man was he? - -The storm, still raging in all its fury, shook the house to its -foundation; a deafening crash of thunder seemed to demolish all other -sounds. She glanced covertly about the little room, seeking some -explanation there. A village shopkeeper who was by nature a poet and -a mystic, and of whom men spoke as a politician--there was a paradox. -Something like amusement touched the edge of her thought, but she tried -for the first time to understand. The room was small and lined on two -sides with rough bookshelves made of unstained pine, yet there was a -picturesqueness in the medley of old books, grouped carelessly about -them. There were a few old worn leather chairs and the lounge, a faded -rug, a table littered with papers and pens around the shaded lamp, -beside which lay his pipe. His dog, Shot, a yellow nondescript, lay -across the threshold, nose between paws, watching her suspiciously. The -place was homely yet severe, clean but disorderly, and the strangest -touch of all was the big loose bunch of apple-blossoms in an old -earthen jar in the corner, the pink and white of the fragile blooms -contrasting charmingly with the dull tintings of the earthenware, and -bringing the fragrance of spring into the little room. Their grouping, -and the corner in which he had placed them, where the light just caught -the beauty of the delicate petals, arrested Diana’s thought. - -“You are an artist,” she remarked approvingly; “or else--was it an -accident?” - -He followed her glance and smiled, and she noticed that, in spite -of the rugged strength and homeliness of his face, his rare smile -had almost the sweetness of a woman’s. “Not altogether accident,” he -said, “but the falling of the light which seems to lift them out of -the shadows behind them. Isn’t it fair that I should have something -beautiful in this shabby place?” - -Diana colored; had he noticed her survey and again thought her -discourteous? She could say nothing to refute its shabbiness and, -for the moment, her usual tact deserted her. She sat looking at the -apple-blossoms in silence while he rose from his place as fire-feeder, -and, going to the kitchen, came back with a cup of hot tea. - -“You had better drink this,” he advised quietly; “I’m afraid you’ll -take cold. I hope the tea will be right; you see I am ‘the cook and the -captain too.’” - -She took the cup, obediently again, and feeling like a naughty child. -“It is excellent,” she said, tasting it; “I didn’t know a mere man -could make such good tea.” - -He laughed. “Once or twice, you know, men have led a forlorn hope. I -sometimes feel like that when I attack the domestic mysteries.” - -“Courage has its own rewards--even in tea, then!” she retorted, -wondering if all the men who lived thus alone knew how to do so many -things for themselves? In her experience it had been the other way. -Colonel Royall was as helpless as a baby and needed almost as much -care, and Jacob Eaton had a scornful disregard of domestic details, -only demanding his own comforts, and expecting that his adoring mother -would provide them without annoying him with even the ways and means. -It occurred to Diana that, perhaps, it was the wide difference in -social position, that gentlemen might be helpless in matters where the -humbler denizens of the earth had to be accomplished; that, in short, -Caleb Trench must make his own tea or go without, while Jacob Eaton -could pay for the making of an indefinite succession of cups of tea. -Yet, was this man entirely out of her class? Diana tasted the tea, with -a critical appreciation of its admirable qualities, and quietly viewed -the tea-maker. He was seated again now in the old armchair by the -table, and she observed the strong lines of his long-fingered muscular -hands, the pose and firmness of the unquestionably intellectual head. -There was nothing commonplace, nothing unrefined in his aspect, yet -all her training went to place between them an immeasurable social -chasm. She regarded him curiously, as one might regard the habitant of -another and an inferior hemisphere, and he was poignantly aware of her -mental attitude. Neither spoke for a while, and nothing was audible in -the room but the crash and uproar of the storm without. In contrast, -the light and shelter of the little place seemed like a flower-scented -refuge from pandemonium. Diana looked over her teacup at the silent -man, who seemed less ill at ease than she was. - -“I think you are a stranger here, Mr. Trench,” she said, in her soft -voice; “at least, we who have been here twenty years call every one -else a stranger and a sojourner in the land.” - -“I have been here only three years,” he replied, “but I do not feel -myself altogether a stranger--to backwoodsmen,” he added ironically. - -She glanced up quickly, recalling the talk between her father and Jacob -Eaton. “Is it you who are organizing them?” she asked lightly. - -Her question took him by surprise, and he showed it; it seemed like an -echo of old Judge Hollis. “I’m no organizer, Miss Royall,” he replied -simply, stooping to caress the dog, who had come to lay his rough head -against his knee. - -She smiled; something in his manner, an indefinable distinction and -fineness, began to make her feel at ease with him. “Is that mere -modesty?” she asked. “I wish you would tell me--I love politics and,” -she laughed gently, “I’m profoundly ignorant.” - -His rare smile lighted the repose of his strong face again. “I am not a -desirable teacher for you, Miss Royall,” he replied; “I’m that abnormal -thing, that black sheep in the neighborhood, a Republican.” - -She leaned over and set her empty cup on the table. “I am immensely -interested,” she said. “A Republican is almost as curious as the famed -‘Jabberwock.’ It isn’t possible that you are making Republicans up in -the timberlands?” - -“Some one must have told you so,” he retorted quietly, a flicker of -humor in his grave eyes; “they look upon me here as they would on a fox -in a chicken-yard.” - -She colored; she did not want to speak of her father or her cousin. -“You see what a busy thing rumor is,” she said. - -“You divine how harmless I am,” he went on, stooping again to throw -another stick into the blaze; “a single Republican in a wilderness of -Democrats. I’m no better than one old woodchuck in a cornfield.” - -“A little leaven will leaven the whole lump,” she laughed. - -Her new tone, which was easy now and almost friendly, touched him and -melted his reserve; he looked up smiling and caught her beauty and -warmth, the lovely contour of her face. Her hat had been lost, and -the fire was drying her moist hair, which was loosened in soft curls -about her forehead. Her presence there began to reach the man’s inner -consciousness, from which he had been trying to shut her out. He was -fighting to bar his thought against her, and her lovely presence in his -room seemed to diffuse a warmth and color and happiness that made his -pulses throb more quickly. Even the dog felt her benign influence and -looked up at her approvingly. Trench steadied his mind to answer her -banter in her own tone. - -“The lump will reject the leaven first, I fear,” he said lightly; “I -never dreamed of such vivid convictions with so little knowledge,” he -added. “I come from a race of calm reasoners; my people were Quakers.” - -“Oh!” She blushed as the exclamation escaped her, for she had suddenly -remembered the six cents and understood the absurdity of his seven-mile -walk; it was the Quaker in him. “I know nothing in the world about -Quakers beyond their--their--” - -“Hats?” he laughed; “like cardinals, they have that distinction.” - -“Do you think me very ignorant?” she asked, unconscious that she was -bridging the social chasm again and again, that she had, indeed, -forgotten it in her interest in the man. His dog had come over now and -laid his head in Diana’s lap, and she caressed it unconsciously; the -dumb overture of friendship always touched her. - -Trench turned. The firelight was on both their faces, and he met her -eyes with that luminous glance which seemed to compel hers. “It would -be very difficult for me to tell you what I think of you,” he said -deliberately, but with a humorous kindness in his voice. - -Diana drew back; she was not sure that she was annoyed. It was new, it -was almost delightful to meet a primitive person like this. She could -not be sure of social banalities here; he might say something new, -something that stirred her pulses at any moment. It was an alarming but -distinctly pleasurable sensation, this excursion into another sphere; -it was almost as exciting as stealing pears. She looked at him with -sparkling eyes. - -“Couldn’t you try?” she asked daringly, and felt a tremulous hope that -he would, though she could not believe it possible that he would -calmly cross the social Rubicon again, and make her feel that all men -were and are “of necessity free and equal.” - -“You do not really wish me to try,” he retorted; “to you this is -an adventure, and I”--he smiled, but a deeper emotion darkened his -eyes--“I am the dancing bear.” - -Her cheeks reddened yet more deeply, and her breath came quickly. What -had she done? Opened the way for a dilemma? This man would not be -led; he was a new and alarming problem. She was trying to collect her -thoughts to answer him, to put back the old tone of trivial banter, to -restore the lost equilibrium, but happily she was spared the task. The -tempest had lulled unnoticed, while they talked, and they were suddenly -aware that the shop-door had opened and closed again, and some one -was coming toward them. The next moment Dr. Cheyney appeared at the -threshold, and Diana sank back into the shelter of the old chair with a -feeling of infinite relief. - - - - -V - - -HALF an hour later Caleb Trench was helping his two guests into the -doctor’s old-fashioned, high-topped buggy. - -“That’ll do, Caleb; I’ve got her safely tucked in,” Dr. Cheyney said, -as he gathered the reins up and disentangled them from old Henk’s -tail. “I reckon Henk and I can carry her all right; she isn’t any more -delicate than a basket of eggs.” - -Diana smiled in her corner of the carriage. “Thank you again, Mr. -Trench,” she said gently; “it’s nice to have some one considerate. Dr. -Cheyney has always scolded me, and I suppose he always will.” - -“Think likely,” the doctor twinkled; “you mostly deserve it, Miss -Royall.” - -“He’s worse when he calls me names,” Diana lamented, and bowed her head -again to Caleb as old Henk started deliberately upon his way. - -The hood of the vehicle shut off her view, and she did not know that -Trench stood bareheaded in the rain to watch the receding carriage, -until the drenched green boughs locking over the road closed his -last glimpse of it in a mist-wreathed perspective, beautiful with -wind-beaten showers of dogwood bloom. - -The two inside the buggy were rather silent for a while. Diana was -watching the light rainfall. The sun was breaking through the clouds, -and the atmosphere became wonderfully translucent. Great branches were -strewn by the way, and a tall pine, cleft from tip to root, showed the -course of a thunderbolt. The stream was so swollen that old Henk forded -with cautious feet, and the water lapped above the carriage step. - -“Drowned out most of the young crops,” Dr. Cheyney remarked laconically. - -“What sort of a man is Caleb Trench?” Diana asked irrelevantly. - -Dr. Cheyney looked around at her with quizzical eyes. “A shopkeeper,” -he replied. “I reckon that’s about as far as you got before to-day, -wasn’t it?” - -She colored. “I suppose it was,” she admitted, and then added, “Not -quite, doctor; I saw that he was odd.” - -The old man smiled. “Di,” he said, “when you were no higher than my -knee you’d have been more truthful. You know, as well as I do, that the -man is above the average; he’s keeping shop and reading law down at -Judge Hollis’ office, and he’s trying to teach the backwoodsmen honest -politics. Taken out a pretty large contract, eh?” - -Diana looked down at her fine strong hands lying crossed in her lap; -her face was deeply thoughtful. “I suppose he’s bent on rising in -politics,” she said, with a touch of scorn in her voice; “the typical -self-made man.” - -“You didn’t happen to know that he was a gentleman,” Dr. Cheyney -remarked dryly. - -She met his eye and smiled unwillingly. “I did,” she said; “I saw -it--to-night.” - -“Oh, you did, did you?” The old man slapped Henk with the reins. “Well, -what else did you see?” - -“Very little, I imagine,” she replied. “I suppose I thought he had ‘a -story’; that’s the common thing, isn’t it?” - -“Maybe,” admitted the doctor, “but it isn’t so, as far as I know. -Caleb Trench comes of good old stock in Pennsylvania. His father lost -a fortune just before Caleb left college; the old man’s dead, and his -wife, too. Trench has had to work and work hard. He couldn’t take his -law course, and he’s never complained. He got together a little money -and had to pay it all out for his sister; she was dying of some spinal -trouble, and had to be nursed through a long illness and buried. Trench -gave every cent; now he’s making a new start. Hollis likes him, so does -Miss Sarah.” - -Diana smiled. “It’s something to please Miss Sarah.” - -“I never did,” said William Cheyney calmly; “she declares I tried to -poison her last time she was laid up with sciatica. She’s taking patent -medicines now, and when she’s at the last gasp she’ll send for me and -lay the blame on my shoulders.” - -“It’s hard to be a doctor after all, isn’t it?” laughed Diana; then she -leaned forward and caught the blossoming end of a vagrant dogwood and -broke off the flowers as they passed. “Dr. Cheyney,” she went on, after -a long moment, “I’ve wanted you to see father again; I don’t believe -he’s well.” - -“Why not?” asked the doctor, his eyes on the mist of rain that seemed -to move before them like the pillar of cloud before the Israelites. - -“He’s moody,” she said, “he’s almost sad at times and--and he spent an -hour in the Shut Room--” She paused and looked questioningly at the old -man beside her, but he made no comment. - -In the pause they heard the slush of Henk’s hoofs in the muddy road. - -“I wish he wouldn’t,” Diana continued; “it’s beautiful--his devotion to -my mother’s memory, but I--I’m jealous of that Shut Room, it makes him -so unhappy. Couldn’t I break it up by taking him away?” - -The doctor shook his head. “Better not, Diana,” he cautioned her, -“better not. You can’t uproot an old tree. Let him fight his battle out -alone.” - -“I can’t bear that he should be alone,” she protested tenderly. “I -can’t bear to be shut out even from his griefs. Pa and I are all in all -to each other. Why does he never speak of mother? Is it his sorrow?” - -Dr. Cheyney nodded, pursing his lips. Henk jogged on. - -“It’s a long time,” said Diana, “I was only three years old.” - -“Let it be, my girl,” the old man counseled; “we can’t enter the -upper chamber of the soul, you know. David’s got to fight it out. -Sometimes”--the doctor let the reins go so slack that old Henk -walked--“sometimes grief is like a raw cut, Diana, and we can’t put in -a few stitches either; got to leave that to Providence.” - -“He isn’t well,” Diana insisted. - -“He’d be no better for my meddling,” Dr. Cheyney retorted, unmoved. - -“I wanted him to go East with me,” she continued, “to go to New York.” - -Dr. Cheyney glanced up quickly. “And he wouldn’t?” - -Diana shook her head. - -“Don’t you ask it,” cautioned the old man. “It’s the time of year when -your father’s full of notions; let him be.” - -“The time of year”--Diana met the doctor’s kindly eyes--“when mother -died?” - -William Cheyney turned red. The girl, looking at him, saw the dull red -stealing up to the old man’s white hair and wondered. - -“Yes,” he said. - -“Do I look like her?” Diana asked, after a moment of perplexed thought. - -“No!” said Dr. Cheyney shortly. - -Old Henk had climbed the last hill,--the one that always seems to meet -the sky until you have climbed it,--and there, below it, unfolded the -wide valley with the brown of new-plowed fields and the long strips of -lovely foliage. The mist of the rain was molten gold now, and a rainbow -spanned the sky. - -“I wish I did!” Diana sighed regretfully. - -“You’re the handsomest woman in the State,” the old doctor retorted -tartly. “What more do you want?” - -“The kingdoms of earth,” replied Diana, and laughed softly. - -Dr. Cheyney disentangled the rein again from old Henk’s tail, and they -turned the corner. - -“Diana,” he said abruptly, “did you happen to ask Caleb Trench to call?” - -“I?” Diana flushed crimson. “No,” she said reluctantly, “I didn’t.” - -Dr. Cheyney shook with silent laughter. “That’s the way you treat the -good Samaritan,” he said. “I’d rather be the Levite, Di.” - -She leaned back in her corner of the carriage, blushing but resentful, -a line between her brows. “It wouldn’t be any use,” she said. “I--I -couldn’t make him feel welcome there.” - -“You mean that Cousin Jacob would insult him,” Dr. Cheyney said bluntly. - -She stiffened. “I should protect my own guests,” she retorted hotly. - -“Could you?” asked the doctor dryly. - -Diana met his eyes indignantly; then a throb of pain in her ankle made -her wince. - -“I reckon it does hurt, Di.” The old man smiled compassionately. “I’ll -bandage it when we get you home. Don’t be capering off your horse again -in thunder-storms.” - -“I’d be sure to break my neck next time, I suppose,” she said ruefully. - -“Let it be a leg, Di,” advised the doctor, “that would give me a job; -the other would all go to the undertaker. He told me once,” he added, -with a twinkle, “that we worked so much together we ought to have a -common interest. I believe he wanted to found a trust--‘doctors’ and -undertakers’ amalgamated protected’--or something of that sort. I -begged off on the ground of injury to my profession. I told him it -wouldn’t do for a poor man like me to go into a trust with a rich -planter.” - -“Dr. Cheyney,” Diana interrupted, “I don’t want you to think that Jacob -Eaton rules our house; he has more influence with father than I wish he -had, but he can’t rule father.” - -“I suppose you’ll marry him in the end,” William Cheyney remarked -reflectively. - -Diana, leaning back in her corner, looked thoughtful. “No,” she said -slowly, “I don’t believe I will.” - -The doctor slapped Henk again with his loose rein. “Why not?” he asked -dispassionately. - -She thought a moment, a gleam of mischief deepening in her glance. “For -one thing, his eyes are too near together,” she said at last. - -“There’s no telling but what you could get them spaced better,” -he replied, twinkling; “science is advancing, and so is wireless -telegraphy.” - -Diana laughed. “Some one will like them as they are,” she said, “and -Jacob thinks them handsome.” - -“Sleek young cub!” said the doctor, turning in at the gate that led to -the old white house with its two wings and its belvedere. “I’d like you -to marry a real man, Di.” - -Diana leaned her head back in the corner and closed her eyes, as -the throbbing pain held her breathless again. Then she smiled. “Dr. -Cheyney,” she said, “do you remember the time I cried because you -wouldn’t give me the pink capsules?” - -“You were seven,” replied the doctor placidly. “I remember. They would -have killed you, but you screamed for them; you raised Cain about them.” - -“I wanted my own way,” said Diana, “and I want it still. I think I’d -better be an old maid.” - -Old Henk was jogging up the path, and before the doctor could reply a -negro stableman came running breathless, and stopped at the sight of -Diana. - -“Fo’ de Lawd, Miss Di!” he said, “I’se glad ter see you. Jerry done -come home drenched, an’ we ’se been out searchin’--scared ter tell de -col’nel.” - -“You old rogue!” said the doctor, “he was the first one to tell. Miss -Diana has sprained her ankle.” - -“He was right,” said Diana promptly; “father would have been out in the -storm and never found me. Texas, go on up and tell the colonel that -I’ve hurt my ankle; I won’t have him worried, and I can’t walk well -enough to deceive him.” - -The doctor looked at her quizzically. “That’s right, Di,” he said, -driving on; “you’ve spoilt him, but I reckon he can stand it if I can.” - -“He began it,” she laughed softly; “he spoilt me first.” - -Dr. Cheyney laughed too. “Perhaps he did,” he admitted -gently,--“perhaps he did, but I’m not sure; you’ve got to have your -trial, Diana.” - -They were at the door now, and she laid her hand suddenly over the old -man’s. “Dr. Cheyney,” she said, “won’t you thank Caleb Trench and tell -him I’d be glad to have him come up here? I want to thank him again -properly.” - -“No,” said Dr. Cheyney promptly, “I won’t.” - -Diana’s eyes opened. “Why?” she demanded, flushing hotly, half -indignant. - -The doctor looked over the top of his spectacles. “He wouldn’t come, -Diana,” he said; “you wouldn’t either, in his place.” - -She did not answer, but turned away abruptly and reached out both hands -to Texas, who helped her down. “Good-bye, doctor,” she said coolly, -standing with one hand on the negro’s shoulder. - -The doctor climbed out. “Go to!” he said, smiling grimly; “I’m coming -in to bandage your ankle. Don’t cry for the pink capsules again, Di.” - -And Diana turned crimson with anger. - - - - -VI - - -IN the weeks that followed, while Diana nursed her sprained ankle in -enforced retirement, changes were taking place at the Cross-Roads. -Caleb Trench did not close his little shop, but he put out the new -sign: “Caleb Trench, Attorney-at-law.” - -The little rear room, into which he had carried Diana, was converted -into an office, with a new table and another bookcase. Shot, the -yellow mongrel, moved from the rear door to the front, and the great -metamorphosis was complete. If we could only change our souls as easily -as we do our surroundings, how magnificent would be the opportunities -of life! - -Caleb Trench had opened his law office, but as yet he had no clients, -that is, no clients who were likely to pay him fees. The countrymen who -traded with him and knew him to be honest came by the score to consult -him about their difficulties, but they had no thought of paying for -Caleb’s friendship, and Caleb asked them nothing. Yet his influence -with them grew by that subtle power that we call personal magnetism, -and which is, more truly, the magnetism of vital force and sometimes of -a clear unbiased mind. - -For the most part Caleb and the dog sat together in the office, and -their friendship for each other was one of the natural outcomes of the -master’s life. The solitary man loved his dog, and the dog, in turn, -adored him and lay content for hours at his feet. It was the seventh -week after he had carried Diana into his little shop, and as he sat -there, by his desk, the moving sunshine slanting across the floor of -the office, he recalled the instant when her head lay unconsciously on -his shoulder and her cheek touched his rough coat. For one long moment -his mind dwelt on it, and dwelt on her by his fire, with the glow of -it in her eyes, her soft voice, her sweet manners, in which there was -just a suggestion of condescension, until she forgot it and spoke to -him naturally and freely. He saw her plainly again, as plainly as he -saw the swaying boughs of the silver birch before his window. Then he -thrust the thought resolutely away and turned almost with relief to -face the shambling country youth who had entered without knocking. - -“Well, Zeb?” he said shortly, but not unkindly. - -“I stopped by ter see yo’, Mr. Trench,” Zeb Bartlett drawled slowly; “I -thought mebbe yo’d help me out.” - -Trench glanced at him and saw that he had been drinking. He was a -lean, lank boy of nineteen, with a weak face that gave evidence of a -weaker brain, and he bore a strong resemblance to his half-sister; he -was accounted almost an idiot by the gossips of Eshcol, and was always -in trouble, but, as he was the only grandson of a poor old woman, he -escaped his deserts. - -“What do you want now, Zeb?” Trench asked dryly, turning back to his -papers; he was still studying law with a zeal that was later to bear -fruit in the case that divided Eshcol. - -“I want two dollahs,” Zeb said with a whine. “I haven’t had any work -fer a week, an’ Jean’s starvin’ agin. Gimme two dollahs, Mr. Trench, -an’ I’ll return it with--with interes’ on Saturday night, sho’,” he -said, triumphing at the end, and pulling off his soft felt hat to rub -his head helplessly. - -“Not two cents,” said Caleb; “you’d get drunk.” - -“I sure won’t!” protested Zeb, his mouth drooping and his hands falling -weakly at his sides, as if he had suddenly lost the starch necessary to -keep his lines crisp. “I ain’t seen liquor fer a month.” - -“What have you been drinking then?” Trench asked, with the ghost of a -smile. - -“Water,” said Zeb, rallying, “water--ef it warn’t fer that I’d be dry -ez punk. ’Deed, Mr. Trench, I needs money. Jean’s mighty sick.” - -“No, she isn’t,” said Caleb. “I spoke to her at the market this -morning.” - -Zeb’s mouth opened again, like a stranded fish, and he stared; but -he wanted the money. “She wuz took sick after that,” he explained, -brightening, “she asked me ter git it. Gimme er dollah, Mr. Trench.” - -“No,” said Caleb. - -“Fifty cents,” whined Zeb, but a sullen look was coming into his light -eyes. - -“No!” - -“Twenty-five cents!” pleaded the borrower, wheedling, but with angry -eyes. - -“Not a cent; you’d spend it on whiskey,” Caleb said. - -Zeb’s face changed, the cringing attitude of a seeker of a favor fell -from him, he snarled. “You’re a low-down, mean, sniveling shopkeeper!” -he began. “I believe Jean’s tellin’ on yo’, sure enough, I--” - -Caleb rose from his seat, his great figure towering over the drunkard, -as he took him by the collar and thrust him out the door. “Go home,” he -said, “and don’t you ever come here again!” - -Zeb fell out of his hand and shambled up against the silver birch, -sputtering. He hated Trench, but he was afraid to give voice to his -wrath. Besides, Shot was between them now, every hair erect on the -ridge of his spine. Zeb shook his fist and trembled. - -“Go home,” said Trench again, and then to the dog, “Come, Shot!” and he -turned back contemptuously. - -As he did so, a tall farmer in brown homespun, with a wide-brimmed -straw hat, drove up in his light wagon and got down to speak to him. -The newcomer’s eyes fell on Zeb. “Drunk again,” he remarked. - -Trench nodded, and the two went into the office. - -Zeb Bartlett sank down under the trees and wept; he was just far enough -gone to dissolve with self-pity. He believed Trench to be a monster who -owed him two dollars for his very existence. He sat under the silver -birch and babbled and shook his fist. Then his thirst overcame him, and -he gathered himself together again and shambled down the road toward -the nearest public house. He usually earned his drinks by scrubbing the -floors, but this morning he had not felt like scrubbing and, because -scrub he must, he hated Caleb Trench yet more, and turned once in the -road to shake his fist and weep. - -Meanwhile Trench was going patiently through the papers of his new -visitor, Aaron Todd. The stout mountaineer owned timberlands, had -a sawmill and grew corn on his fertile lower meadows for the city -markets. Todd was considered rich, and his money was sought for new -investments. The get-rich-quick machines thrive upon the outlying -districts. Todd had been asked to put more money in the Eaton Land -Company; he had some there already and was suddenly smitten with a -caution that sent him to Caleb. The lawyer was new, but the clear -brain of the shopkeeper had been tested. Todd knew him, and watched as -he turned the papers over and read the glowing circular of the Land -Company, its capital, its stock and its declared dividends. It was -alluring and high sounding, a gilt-edged affair. - -Trench looked up from the long perusal, the perpendicular line between -his brows sharp as a scar. “Are you all in?” he asked abruptly. - -Todd shook his head. “No,” he said tersely, “about five thousand. I -could put in ten, but that would strip me down to the ground. The -interest’s large and I need it if I’m to run that sawmill another -year.” - -“Don’t do it,” said Trench. - -As Todd took back the papers and strapped them together with an -India-rubber band, his face was thoughtful. “Why not?” he asked at -last; “you’ve got a reason.” - -Trench nodded. - -Todd looked at him keenly. “Mind tellin’ it?” he asked. - -“Why, yes,” said Caleb, “it’s not proven, but I’m willing to show you -one objection; this scheme is offering abnormal interest--” - -“And paying it,” threw in Todd. - -“And paying it now,” admitted Trench, “but for how long? Why can they -pay ten per cent when the others only pay four and a half? I’d put my -money in the four and a half per cent concerns and feel safe. When a -firm offers such an inducement, it’s not apt to be sound; it isn’t -legitimate business, as I see it.” - -Todd put the papers slowly back into his pocket. “Mebbe you’re right,” -he admitted, “but they’re all in it; I reckon the whole East Mountain -district’s in it, an’ half of Eshcol. They say it’s Jacob Eaton’s.” - -Trench strummed lightly on the desk with his fingers. “So they say,” he -assented without emotion. - -Todd ruminated, cutting off a piece of tobacco. “Eaton’s bent on -lickin’ Yarnall out of the nomination, an’ we don’t want Aylett again. -I believe I’ll take to your ticket,” he remarked. - -Trench looked at him, and his full regard had a singularly -disconcerting effect; Diana herself had felt it. “Vote for Peter -Mahan,” he said coolly. - -“See here, Trench,” said Todd abruptly, “I believe you’d make a man -vote for the devil if you looked at him like that!” - -Caleb laughed, and his laugh was as winning as his smile; both were -rare. “I’m only suggesting Mahan,” he said. - -“We’ve never had a Republican, not since five years before the war. -That was before I was born,” Todd replied. “It would sweep out every -office-holder in the State, I reckon.” - -“Where’s your civil service?” asked Trench dryly. - -“It’s rotten,” said Todd. “There ain’t a man in now that ain’t an -Eaton or an Aylett runner. I’d a damned sight rather hunt a flea in -a feather-bed than try to catch Jacob Eaton when he’s dodging in -politics.” - -“Yet Mr. Eaton has you all in the hollow of his hand,” said Trench. -“You don’t like his methods; you’re all the time reviling his politics, -but there isn’t a man among you that dares vote the Republican ticket. -It’s not his fault if he is your boss.” - -Todd rubbed the back of his head. “There’s a pesky lot of truth in -that,” he admitted reluctantly, “but--well, see here, Mr. Trench, about -three quarters of the county’s his, anyway, and the rest of it belongs -to men who’ve invested with him an’ they’re afraid to run against him.” - -“This Land Company seems to be about the biggest political engine he -has,” Caleb remarked. “Twenty-nine out of every thirty tell me the same -story. Practically, then, Mr. Eaton hasn’t bought you, but he’s got -your money all in his control, you elect his underlings and through -them he governs you, speculates with your money, and, in time, you’ll -send him to the United States Senate. As a matter of fact, if the same -system worked in the other States, he could be President.” - -“By George, so he could! I hadn’t thought of it,” said Todd, letting -his heavy fist fall on the table with a force that made every article -on it dance. “Mr. Trench, I want you to put that before the people -up to Cresset’s Corners. There’s going to be a town meeting there on -Friday night. If you’ll let me, I’ll post it in the post-office that -you’ll speak on the Republican ticket. You can just drop this in as you -go along.” - -Caleb thought hard, drawing a line on the table with his paper-cutter. -“I’m perfectly willing to speak for the Republican ticket,” he -said, amused, “but this is not germane to that subject. If they ask -questions I’ll answer them, but I wouldn’t start out to attack Mr. -Eaton personally without grounds. I’ve said all I want to say here and -now; of course I’ll say it over again in public, but I can’t throw Mr. -Eaton’s method into the Republican ticket.” - -“I’ll ask all the questions,” said Todd. “What I want is, to get the -facts out. Everybody’s for Eaton because everybody’s scairt, an’ -really Yarnall’s the best man we’ve got.” - -“Then vote for Yarnall,” Trench advised coolly. - -“He ain’t Republican, an’ you want the Republican ticket,” protested -Todd, a little bewildered. - -“We can’t elect it,” said Caleb; “even with the Democratic Party split, -we can’t get votes enough. If you’re a Democrat vote for Yarnall.” - -Todd folded his tobacco pouch and thrust it into his trousers’ pocket, -with burrowing thoughtfulness, then he pulled the crease out of his -waistcoat. “How many have you said that to?” he asked. - -Trench smiled. “To every man who has asked me,” he replied, “the -Republican ticket first and Yarnall next.” - -Todd rose and picked up his broad hat. “I reckon we’ll have Yarnall -after all,” he drawled, “but you’ll speak Friday, Trench?” - -Trench nodded. - -Just then some one came into the shop with the frou-frou of ruffled -skirts. Caleb went out, followed by Shot first and Todd last. Shot -greeted the newcomer with uplifted paw. Miss Kitty Broughton bowed -and shook hands with the dog, laughing; she was very pretty, and in -a flowered muslin, with a broad-brimmed saucy straw, she looked the -incarnation of spring. No one would have imagined that she was a -granddaughter of old Judge Hollis and a grandniece of Miss Sarah. - -She went up to the counter and pushed a square white envelope across -to Caleb. Meanwhile, Aaron Todd had gone out to his wagon and was -climbing into it. Trench took the envelope, smiling back into Miss -Kitty’s laughing blue eyes, and opened it. - -“So you’re ‘out,’ are you, Miss Broughton?” he asked, “or is this only -the first alarm?” - -“It’s my first really and truly ball,” said Kitty, “and Aunt Sarah’s -going to lead the Virginia Reel!” She clapped her hands delightedly. -“You’ll come, Mr. Trench?” - -“I haven’t been to a ball in six years,” replied Caleb, smiling, “I -wouldn’t know a soul. You’re good to me, Miss Broughton, and I’ll send -a bouquet.” - -“You’ll come!” said Kitty. - -He shook his head, still smiling. “Shot would be better fun,” he said; -“you mustn’t invite shopkeepers, Miss Kitty.” - -Kitty pouted, but a red streak went up to her hair. She knew she would -be teased by her intimates later for that very thing. Yet Caleb was -a gentleman, and Judge Hollis loved him; Kitty was not sure that she -could not love him herself if he tried to make her, but he never did, -and he looked as detached now as a pyramid of Egypt, which was a nettle -to her vanity. - -“Will you come?” she demanded, leaning on the counter and nestling -her little round chin into the hollow of her hands. Something in the -gesture made him think of Diana--if Kitty had but known it! - -“Can’t you let me off?” he asked good-naturedly. - -She shook her head. “Please come,” she said. “I bet Judge Hollis a -dollar that I’d make you--and I’ll have to go without my dollar if you -refuse; he swore you would.” - -“Suppose you let me pay the debt, Miss Kitty?” Caleb smiled. - -She shook her head. “Oh, it’s more than the money,” she protested. -“He’ll say I couldn’t get you to come. I’ve got some pride about it; I -hate to be laughed at.” - -“So do I,” sympathized Trench, “and they’ll laugh at me for going. -They’ll call me the Yankee shopkeeper--but I’ll go.” - -She clapped her hands delightedly. “Really? Honor bright?” - -“Honor bright,” he affirmed; “will you dance with me, Miss Broughton?” - -“The very first dance,” laughed Kitty. “You’re the captive of my bow -and spear. You’ll be angry, too, for everybody wants to dance first -with Diana Royall. She’s the belle, and her sprained ankle’s well -again. Was it true that you carried her in out of the rain?” she asked -curiously, her blue eyes dancing. - -“I didn’t know you gossiped,” parried Trench. - -“Oh, I love it!” she protested, “and Diana won’t tell me. It sounds so -romantic, too. I’ll know, though--because you’ll ask her to dance next -if you did.” - -“I don’t think you will know,” said Caleb. - -She looked across the counter at him, her head on one side. “Why won’t -you tell me?” - -“Ask Miss Royall,” he suggested quietly. - -“I know it’s true now!” Kitty cried. - -“Go home and mind your own business, you minx!” said Judge Hollis, -suddenly appearing, his large figure filling the door. “Don’t let her -waste your time, Caleb,--the idlest little girl in the county.” - -“I’ve won my dollar!” cried Kitty, presenting an ungloved little hand, -the pink palm up; “pay your debts, sir.” - -The judge laughed and drew out a silver dollar. “Are you going, Caleb?” -he asked. “I won’t pay till I’m certain; the baggage fleeces me.” - -“I’ve promised,” said Caleb, smiling; “she’s fairly earned it, Judge.” - -“There it is, miss,” said the judge and kissed her. “Now go home!” - -Kitty laughed. “I can’t,” she said, “I’ve got a dollar more to spend -at Eshcol. I’m going into town. Good-bye, and be sure you come, Mr. -Trench.” - -“He will,” said the judge firmly, “or you’ll refund that dollar.” - -“I’ll go, Miss Broughton,” Caleb said, though in his heart he dreaded -it; he had a proud man’s aversion to meeting discourtesy from those -who despised his poverty, and he had observed the red when it stained -Kitty’s cheek. But, after all, it was a small matter, he reflected; to -one of Caleb’s habits of thought the social part of life was a small -matter. Yet it is the small things which prick until the blood comes. - - - - -VII - - -A WEEK from that day Caleb Trench addressed a crowd of backwoodsmen and -some of the Eshcol farmers at the town hall at Cresset’s Corners. Even -if a reporter had not been there, it would have passed by word of mouth -all over the county, and, later, through the State. - -There are moments when the eloquence of man consists in telling the -truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The fact that the -countrymen had not heard it for nearly fifteen years clothed it with -spell-binding powers. For half an hour Caleb Trench talked to them with -extraordinary simplicity and directness; when he had finished they knew -how they were governed and why. He had the power of making his argument -clear to the humblest, and yet convincing to the most learned, which is -the power that men call persuasion. In that half-hour they found that -they had raised up the Golden Calf themselves, and that it had smitten -them. Jacob Eaton suddenly appeared like a huge spider whose golden -web had immeshed the entire State, while they themselves were hung in -it like wounded flies. Yet, yesterday, Jacob Eaton had been a young -man of fine family and immense influence. That night they went home -disputing and lay awake, in the agonies of reflection, trying to find -a way to withdraw themselves from his investments; that they could not -find it involved them in still deeper distress. All this while, the -figure of Caleb Trench began to stand out sharply and suddenly, like -the silhouette thrown on the sheet by the lamp of the stereopticon. - -He made no effort to keep himself before them; having told them the -truth, he acted as if he had performed his mission and went about his -own business, which was chiefly, just then, keeping shop and reading -law only at night. The summer trade was on, the roads were good, and -customers more plentiful than clients. - -Thursday night was the date of Kitty Broughton’s ball; Wednesday, of -the previous week, brought Caleb his first client. The two events -afterwards fixed many things in his memory, for at this time he was -trying to forget that Miss Royall had ever sat in his old armchair by -the stove. The peculiarly haunting qualities of some individuals, who -are not spooks, is past explanation. Caleb felt that there was no more -pricking misery than to see eternally one face and one figure in his -favorite chair, when neither of them could ever possibly belong there, -and it was to his interest to forget them. There should be, by the -way, a method for exorcising such ghosts and compelling their rightful -owners to keep them labeled in a locked cabinet instead of projecting -them upon the innocent and the defenseless. Caleb’s method consisted, -at present, in turning the old chair upside down in the closet back of -the kitchen, which ought to have discouraged any self-respecting ghost, -yet Wednesday morning he got it out again and put it reverently in its -place, with a sheepish feeling of having committed a crime in trying to -dishonor it. - -It was after the ceremony of restoration that Juniper arrived with a -long face. He had been temporarily reconciled to Aunt Charity and was -shouldering her chief responsibility, her son Lysander. - -“De jedge, he sent me down ter see yo’, suh,” Juniper explained, -twisting his battered hat as usual. “I’se in a po’erful lot ob trouble -an’ so ez de ole woman.” - -Caleb moved a little impatiently. “The silver teapot?” he asked dryly. - -“No,” said Juniper, without embarrassment, “no, suh; de folks up ter -de Corners ez gwine ter hab Lysander ’rested. I reckon dey hez had him -’rested a’ready. Dey says he dun stole der chickens on Monday. Et wuz -de dark ob de moon, suh, an’ dat make it seem ez if dey got er case. De -jedge, he tole me ter come ter yo’.” - -Caleb felt that Judge Hollis was enjoying his first case. He almost -heard the shouts of Homeric laughter from that inner office. “You’ll -have to prove that he didn’t steal the chickens,” he said. “In the -first place, who are the people?” - -“Mr. Todd’s folks,” Juniper replied, “an’ dey ses et wuz two pullets -an’ er cockerel.” - -Trench knew where Aaron Todd lived and recalled, less vividly, the -presence of a large chicken-yard. “How do they suppose he could have -carried them off undiscovered, even at night?” Caleb argued. “If I -remember where the chicken-yard is, you could hear a commotion among -the fowls at any time, particularly at night. It will be a simple -matter, Juniper, when we prove an alibi.” - -Juniper rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. “Dat’s so, suh,” he -replied; “I ’low dat I don’ wanter pay his fine, an’ Charity, she don’; -she sho’ won’t pay et bekase she say I oughter, an’ ef Lysander goes -up fo’ sixty days an’ works on de roads, he ain’t gwine ter do anodder -stroke all de year; dat’s Lysander; I knows ’im.” - -“What time do they say the chickens were stolen?” - -“Monday mawnin’, ’bout two o’clock.” Uncle Juniper rubbed his sleeve -thoughtfully across his forehead. - -“Then we must prove an alibi,” said Caleb, swinging around in his -chair to view his client more directly. “The point is clear; where was -Lysander at two o’clock Monday morning?” - -“I specks he wus up dar, suh,” said Juniper cheerfully. “He ain’t let -on ter me dat he wuz anywhere else.” - -Caleb got up abruptly and threw open the door into the shop; he had -seen Colonel Royall coming. Then he dashed off a note to Aaron Todd, -enclosing a cheque for the two pullets and the cockerel, and gave it to -Juniper. - -“Take that up to the Corners,” he said briefly, “and I think Lysander -will get off without arrest, but tell him if he steals any more I’ll -thrash him.” - -“Yes, suh,” said Juniper, expectant but unbelieving. - -Later, however, when Todd took the money and let Lysander off, he was -convinced, and, like all new converts, he became a zealot, and went -about telling of the miracles wrought by the new lawyer. Thus did -Caleb’s fame go abroad in the byways and alleys, which is, after all, -the road to celebrity. - -Meanwhile, Colonel Royall, very inconsiderately, sat in Diana’s chair. -He had heard of the speech at Cresset’s Corners, and knew that Trench -was supporting Yarnall for the Democratic nomination. Yet the colonel -admired Trench, the force of whose convictions was already bearing -fruit. - -Eight weeks before, Colonel Royall had made a formal call on Caleb to -thank him for his courtesy and service to Diana. He was a Southern -gentleman of the old school, and he had done it without allowing even a -drop of condescension in his manner. Moreover, he liked Trench and was -trying to put together the modesty of the man, who had colored at his -acknowledgments, with the incendiary ability that could rouse and hold -a meeting of backwoodsmen on a subject that was as foreign to their -understanding as it was alarming. Admitted, for the first time, into -the inner office, the colonel gazed about with almost as much curiosity -as Diana, and he drew conclusions not unlike hers, but more pregnant -with the truth. - -The colonel’s own face in repose was infinitely sad, yet when he -spoke and laughed his expression was almost happy. But he had been -twenty years turning the key on his inner self, and the result was an -exterior that reminded an observer of an alabaster chalice in which the -throbbing pulse of life lay clasped and all but crystallized. His face -in repose had almost the sweetness of a woman’s, and only when the blue -eyes blazed with sudden wrath was there ever cause to fear him. That he -was a dreamer of dreams was apparent at a glance; that he could keep -an unhappy secret twenty years seemed more improbable. He leaned back -in his chair, clasping his hands on top of the stout hickory stick he -carried. - -“Mr. Trench,” he said slowly, with his Southern drawl, “I congratulate -you on your success in politics.” - -Caleb turned red. He was aware of the universal prejudice against his -politics in Colonel Royall’s class. “Thank you, Colonel,” he said -formally, rising to look for glasses in his cupboard. “I can’t offer -you fine old wine, sir, but I have some Kentucky whiskey that Judge -Hollis sent me.” - -“After the speech at Cresset’s?” The corners of the colonel’s mouth -twitched. - -Caleb poured out the whiskey and handed the glass to his guest. “You -know the judge well, sir,” he remarked, and his composure under the -jest won upon the colonel. - -He tasted the whiskey with the air of a connoisseur. “In Virginia, Mr. -Trench, we should make this into juleps,” he said appreciatively; “the -judge was raised in the Kentucky mountains and he knows a good thing -when he sees it. I read the report of your speech, sir, and I admired -it, but”--the colonel let his hand fall a little heavily on the arm of -the chair where Diana’s elbow had rested,--he little knew the enormity -of his action--“if I thought it was all true I should have to change my -coat. I don’t--but I believe you do.” - -“Thank you,” said Trench quietly, “I do.” - -“Very good, sir,” said Colonel Royall; “then you did right, but you’ve -made more enemies than you could shake a stick at. Jacob Eaton’s my -cousin, a young man yet, but mighty clever, and I reckon he’ll remember -all you said. There isn’t any call for me to resent things for Jacob! -No, sir, I honor you for your courage, if those are your convictions, -but Yarnall can’t be elected here.” - -“I think he can, Colonel,” Caleb replied, unmoved. The lines about his -mouth straightened a little and there was a glint in his gray eyes; -otherwise his composure was unruffled. - -Colonel Royall set down his empty glass and waved aside the proffered -bottle. “No more, sir, it’s too good to be safe; like most fine things, -a little goes a long way. What makes you think you can nominate -Yarnall? Of course you can’t elect a Republican, so I see your point -in trying to influence the Democrats. By gum, sir, it’s the first time -it’s been attempted, and it’s knocked the organization into splinters; -they’re standing around waiting to see what you’ll do next!” The -colonel laughed softly. - -“They’ll nominate Yarnall and they’ll elect him,” said Caleb; “Aylett -can’t get two votes out of ten. I’m sorry to go against your candidate, -Colonel,” he added, smiling. - -“Eh?” said the colonel; he was, in fact, suddenly aware of the charm of -Caleb’s rare smile. He had not known that the man could smile like that. - -“I’m afraid I appear an interloper in a fenced, no-trespass field,” -Caleb continued pleasantly. “I’m a Republican, of course, and”--his -eyes twinkled--“something of a Yankee, but, as we can’t elect a -Republican, you must forgive me for choosing the less instead of the -greater evil.” - -Colonel Royall picked up his broad-brimmed Panama and twirled it -thoughtfully on the top of his stick. “What’s your objection to -Aylett?” he asked meditatively. - -Trench was momentarily embarrassed, then he plunged boldly. “In the -parlance, we would call him a machine man,” he said; “he was elected by -the same system that has ruled this State for years; he’s bound hand -and foot to it, and his reëlection means--a continuance of the present -conditions.” - -It was now Colonel Royall’s turn to smile. “You mean a continuance of -Jacob Eaton? Well, I expect it will, and I don’t know but what it’s a -good thing. You haven’t converted me to your heresy, Mr. Trench, but -I’ve tasted of your hospitality, and if you don’t come and taste mine -I’ll feel it a disgrace. Why have you not come to see me, sir? I asked -you when I came here to acknowledge your courtesy to my daughter.” - -Trench reddened again. “I’m coming, Colonel,” he said at once, -“but”--he hesitated--“are you sure that a man of my political faith -will be entirely welcome?” - -Colonel Royall straightened himself. “Sir, Mr. Eaton does not choose my -guests. I appreciate your feeling and understand it. I shall be happy, -sir, to see you next Sunday afternoon,” and he bowed formally, having -risen to his full height. - -Caleb took his proffered hand heartily, and walked with him to the -door. Yet he did not altogether relish the thought of a call at Broad -Acres; he remembered too vividly his visit there to refund Diana’s -money, and reddened at the thought of a certain receipt which he still -carried in his pocket. He had set out to restore her change because -he did not wish her to think she had been overcharged, and it was not -until he had fairly embarked upon the interview that he had regretted -not sending it by mail, and had reached a point where stealing it would -have seemed a virtue! The fact that the Broad Acres people seldom, if -ever, came to his shop had made its return in the natural course of -events doubtful, and the matter had seemed to him simple and direct -until Diana met it. The Quaker in him received its first shock that -night, and he recoiled from giving them another opportunity to mortify -his pride. Before that he had regarded Miss Royall as supremely and -graciously beautiful; since then he had realized that she could be both -thoughtless and cruel. - -He stood in his door watching the old colonel’s erect figure walking -up the long road under the shadow of the great trees that lined it -at intervals. There was something at once stately and appealing in -the old man’s aspect, yet there was power in his eyes and the pose of -his white head. He reminded Caleb of an old lion, sorely stricken but -magnificent; some wound had gone deep. As yet the younger man had no -notion of it; when he did know he marveled much at the strange mingling -of knight-errantry and tenderness in the breast of one of Nature’s -noblemen. As it was, he was supremely conscious that he liked Colonel -Royall and that Colonel Royall liked him, but that the colonel was -vividly aware that the shopkeeper at the Cross-Roads was not his social -equal; Caleb wondered bitterly if he went further, and considered that -the gentleman of good blood and breeding was his equal when in law and -politics? - -He turned from the door with a whimsical smile and patted his dog’s -uplifted head; then, as his eyes lighted on the worn leather chair in -which the colonel had just sat, he turned it abruptly to the wall. - - - - -VIII - - -BEFORE Sunday Caleb’s settlement of his first case was celebrated in -Eshcol. Judge Hollis got the facts from Juniper and spread the story -abroad. It was too good to keep. The cockerel was valued at three -dollars, being rare, and the pullets cost seventy-five cents each. The -attorney for the defendant had paid the costs without pleading the case -at the bar. - -The judge asked if he intended to settle all difficulties on the same -plane? If so, he could send him enough clients to form a line down -the Mississippi from St. Louis to New Orleans. Juniper was telling it -too, without grasping the judge’s point of view. As a lawyer, Juniper -claimed that Caleb Trench could out-Herod Herod. He protested that -the mere paying for the fowls had saved Lysander from being tarred -and feathered; for Aaron Todd’s indignant threats were magnified by -memory, and no one but Mr. Trench would have thought of so simple and -efficacious a remedy. - -The settlement of Lysander’s difficulties coming after the famed -Cresset speech created a sensation between wrath and merriment among -Caleb’s political opponents. What manner of man was he? Caleb Trench, -Quaker, posted on his door might have explained him to some, but to the -majority it would have remained Greek. Besides, Caleb was not orthodox; -he had always leaned to his mother’s religion, and she had been an -Episcopalian; between the two creeds he had found no middle course, but -he had a profound respect for the faith that brought Diana to her knees -with the simplicity of a child in the little old gray stone church -where the new curate had installed a boy choir. - -It was long past church time, and after the early Sunday dinner, when -he sat on the porch with Colonel Royall at Broad Acres. The colonel -was a delightful host, and this time he did not discuss politics; he -talked, instead, about his father’s plantation in Virginia before the -war, a subject as safe as the Satires of Horace, yet Trench fidgeted a -little in his chair. He was conscious that Diana was passing through -the hall behind him, and that, after her first correctly courteous -greeting, she had avoided the piazza. He was, in fact, distinctly the -colonel’s guest. - -Diana was more vividly aware of social distinctions than her father, -and less forgetful of them; she was only twenty-three, and the time was -not yet when she could forgive a man for doing anything and everything -to earn his bread. There were so many ways, she thought, that did -not embrace the village yardstick! Besides, she rather resented the -Cresset speech. Jacob Eaton was her cousin, three times removed it was -true, but still her cousin, and that held. Diana could not reconcile -herself to the freedom of political attacks, and Caleb Trench’s cool, -unbiased criticisms of Eaton and his methods seemed to her to be mere -personalities, and she had gone as far as quarreling with the colonel -for asking him to call. - -“I don’t like his attack on Jacob, pa,” she had said hotly; “he’s no -gentleman to make it!” - -The colonel meditated, his eyes twinkling. “He’s a good deal of a man -though, Di.” - -And Diana had turned crimson, though she did not know why, unless she -remembered suddenly her own impression of him in his little office, -when the flare of the burning wood fell on his face. All these things -made her angry and she had received him with an air that reminded -Trench of the receipt for six cents, yet Diana was superbly courteous. -Neither Mrs. Eaton nor Jacob appeared; they lived about three miles -away, and Mrs. Eaton had refused absolutely to visit Cousin David on -Sunday if he intended to entertain the lower classes. She had only a -very nebulous idea of the political situation, but she thought that -Trench had vilified Jacob. - -But with the colonel Caleb was happily at home; even the colonel’s -slow drawl was music in his ears, and he liked the man, the repose of -his manner, the kindly glance of his sad eyes, for his eyes were sad -and tender as a woman’s. Yet Colonel Royall had shot a man for a just -cause thirty years before, and it was known that he carried and could -use his revolver still. The fire of the old-time gentleman sometimes -sent the quick blood up under his skin and kindled his glance, but his -slow courtesy made him ever mindful of others. Sitting together, with -the sun slanting across the lawns and the arch of the horse-chestnuts -shadowing the driveway, Caleb told the colonel the story of his -father’s failure and, more lightly, something of his own struggles. -Then he got down to reading law with Judge Hollis. - -“A pretty costly business for you, sir,” the colonel said wickedly, and -then laughed until the blue veins stood out on his forehead. - -Caleb laughed too, but colored a little. “Juniper is an old rogue,” he -said amusedly. “I should have bribed him to hold his tongue.” - -Colonel Royall straightened his face and rubbed his eyeglasses on a -dollar bill, which, he held, was the only way to clean them. “Lysander -is the rogue,” he said, “and old Aunt Charity has been known to steal -Juniper’s clothes for him to wear. She dressed him in Juniper’s best -last year and sent him to the fair with all the money from her washing. -Meanwhile the old man had nothing but his blue jeans and a cotton -undershirt, and wanted to go to the fair, too. There was a great -row. Of course Lysander got drunk and was sent up for thirty days -in Juniper’s Sunday clothes. Lordy!” the colonel laughed heartily, -“you could hear the noise down at the embankment. Juniper wanted a -‘divorcement’ and his clothes, principally his clothes. Judge Hollis -and I had to fit him out, but he and Aunt Charity didn’t speak until -there was another funeral; that brings niggers together every time; -there’s a chaste joy about a funeral that melts their hearts.” - -The colonel laughed again reminiscently, but Caleb, being a young man -and human, was aware that Diana had crossed the hall again, and that -she must have heard her father laughing at him. It was not long after -this that he made his adieux, and he did not ask to see Miss Royall. -The colonel walked with him to the gate and pointed out the magnificent -promise of grapes on his vines. - -“It will be a plentiful season, Mr. Trench,” he said, “and I hope a -good harvest; let us have peace.” - -Caleb understood the tentative appeal, and he liked the old man, but -to a nature like Trench’s truth is the sling of David; he must smite -Goliath. “Colonel Royall,” he said, “no man desires peace more than I -do, but--peace with honor.” - -Colonel Royall stood in the center of his own gateway, his thumbs in -the armholes of his waistcoat, his white head bare. “Mr. Trench,” he -said, “I understand that we are not to have peace.” - -Thursday night Kitty Broughton gave her ball. Her father was dead, and -Judge Hollis stood beside her mother to help Kitty receive her guests. -Everybody who was anybody in the city came out, and all Eshcol was -there. Mrs. Eaton declared that it was the most mixed affair she ever -saw, when she recognized Caleb Trench. She told all her friends not to -allow any presuming person to present him to her, and in an hour she -had made all the guests painfully aware that there was a black sheep in -the fold. Then Kitty Broughton added fuel to the fire by dancing the -first dance with him, and it was discovered, by all the girls present, -that he danced exceedingly well, and quite as if he had always gone to -entertainments. This surprised those who criticized Mrs. Broughton for -asking him; yet not to have had him would have been to have the banquet -without the salt. For Jacob Eaton was there, too, and though he wore an -inscrutable face, it was exciting to wonder how he felt, and what would -happen if they met? - -Meanwhile, the dancing went on, and Mrs. Broughton had presented Trench -to several of the young girls from the city, who admired his dancing, -so he had partners; but he was aware of the frigidity of the atmosphere -and he had not asked Miss Royall to dance. Instead, Diana had danced -twice with her cousin and once with young Jack Cheyney, a nephew of -the doctor. She was very beautiful. Trench looked across the ballroom -at her and thought that no sculptured figure of nymph or dryad had -ever excelled the beauty of her tall young figure, its slender but -perfect lines, and the proud pose of her head. She wore a white brocade -flowered with pink, like apple-blossoms, and Trench thought of her and -the spring buds in his lonely office. The splendid diamond that shone -like a star above her forehead reminded him of the wide divergence in -their fates. - -Judge Hollis found him and laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “Glad -to see you out, Caleb,” he said heartily; “a change will do you good. -Mouldy old law-books and old men pall on a young fellow like you. I saw -you lead off with Kitty. The minx is pretty and dances well. Have you -asked Diana to dance?” - -“No,” said Trench; “Miss Royall has too many partners to accept -another, I fancy.” - -“Better ask her,” counseled the judge; “the lady is something of a -tyrant. Don’t get on her black books too early, sir; besides, courtesy -demands it. Didn’t she accept your care and hospitality?” - -“She had to,” said Trench dryly. - -“Precisely,” smiled the judge; “now ask her to dance and give her the -chance to say ‘no,’ then she’ll forgive you.” - -“I fancy there are more things to forgive than that,” replied Caleb -musingly; “Mrs. Eaton has let me feel the weight of my social position.” - -“My dear boy, Jinny is the biggest cad in the world,” said the judge, -drinking a glass of punch; “go and do as I tell you or I’ll drop your -acquaintance. By the way, Caleb, how much are cockerels now?” and the -old man’s laughter drew all eyes. - -But it was after supper that, very much against his determinations, -Caleb found himself asking Diana to dance. He has never known how it -happened, unless it was the compelling power of her beauty in the -corner of the ballroom when the music began again. - -“May I have the honor?” he asked. - -Diana hesitated the twentieth part of a second; it was almost -imperceptible, but it sent the blood to the young man’s forehead. Then -she smiled graciously. “With pleasure,” she said in a clear voice. - -It happened that they swept past Eaton, her skirt brushing against him, -and in another moment they were going down the old ballroom together. -All eyes followed them and returned to Jacob Eaton, who was standing -discomfited for an instant. It was only one instant; the next Jacob was -more suave and smiling than ever, and an heiress from Lexington danced -with him. However, in that one instant, his face had startled the -groups nearest him. People suddenly remembered that it was said that -Eaton carried firearms at all times, and was one of the straightest -shots that side of the Mississippi. - -Later, when Diana was driving home with her father, she spoke her mind. -“I wish you’d make Jacob Eaton behave himself, pa,” she said; “he acts -as if I belonged to him and he could choose my--my friends! I don’t -like his manners up at Broad Acres, either; he said the other day that -the cold grapery should be pulled down, and that he didn’t believe in -owning a race-horse.” - -Colonel Royall rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully; his eyes were -troubled. - -“His manners are becoming insufferable,” Diana went on, without heeding -the silence. - -“If he’s rude to you, Diana,” the colonel said quietly, “just say so -and I’ll thrash him.” - -“I sometimes wish you would!” she retorted wrathfully, and then, -reaching up in the dim carriage, she patted the colonel’s cheek. -“You’re an old dear,” she said fondly, “but you do get imposed on, and -Jacob never does!” - - - - -IX - - -DR. CHEYNEY’S old gig traveled up the hill just behind Mrs. Eaton’s -carriage, and both turned into the gateway of Broad Acres. - -That was the morning after Kitty Broughton’s ball. The doctor had not -been there, having had a bad case on his hands in Eshcol, and he was -full of excitement over a new review of the Cresset speech published in -New York, in a great metropolitan daily. It seemed that Caleb Trench -was going to be celebrated and old William Cheyney had championed -him. He had the paper in his pocket and wanted to show it to Colonel -Royall, but there was Mrs. Eaton, and when the doctor climbed down from -his high seat she was already delivering her opinion to Diana and her -father, and she did not suppress it on account of Dr. Cheyney. - -“I can’t imagine what has come over you, Colonel Royall!” that lady -was saying with great indignation; “you must be out of your senses to -allow Diana to dance in public with a common shopkeeper, a--a kind of -hoodlum, too!” - -This was too much for Dr. Cheyney, who shook with silent laughter; and -there was a twinkle in Colonel Royall’s eye. - -“My dear Jinny,” he said pleasantly, “have you lived all these years -without knowing that it’s Diana who bosses me?” - -“I call it a shameful exhibition,” continued Mrs. Eaton hotly. “I never -have believed in mixing the classes--never! And to see my own cousin, -and a young girl at that, dancing with that--that fellow! As far as it -looked to other people, too, she enjoyed it.” - -“Did you, Diana?” queried Dr. Cheyney mildly, standing with his hands -in his pockets, and a queer smile on his puckered old face. - -“I did,” said Diana, very red. - -“Whoopee!” exclaimed the doctor, and went off into convulsions of -laughter. - -Mrs. Eaton’s wrath passed all bounds. “At your age,” she said loftily -to Diana, “I should have been ashamed to confess it.” - -“I am,” said Diana. - -“I’m truly glad of it!” cried Mrs. Eaton. - -“Let’s get the stuffing out of it, Jinny,” suggested the colonel mildly. - -“I don’t know what you mean,” said Mrs. Eaton stiffly. “I should call -that an extremely vulgar expression. I’m very glad that Diana is -ashamed, and I only hope it will never occur again. In my day, young -ladies of social prominence were careful who they danced with. I’m sure -I can’t see any reason for Diana dancing with Mr. Trench. Any one who -reads that abominable speech of his at Cresset’s can see, at a glance, -that he’s an anarchist.” - -“Don’t you think that’s going some, Jinny?” argued the colonel mildly; -“you might have said socialist, and still been rather strong.” - -“I never could see any difference,” retorted the lady firmly, settling -herself in the most comfortable wicker armchair. “An anarchist blows -up everything, and a socialist advises you to blow up everything; the -difference is altogether too fine for me!” - -“Just the difference between cause and effect, eh, madam?” suggested -the doctor delightedly, “and all ending in explosion.” - -“Exactly,” said Mrs. Eaton, with an air of finality. “Diana, why in the -world did you dance with him?” - -“Because you and Jacob didn’t want me to,” Diana replied calmly. - -Both the old men chuckled, and Mrs. Eaton reddened with anger. “You -are very unnatural, Diana,” she said severely. “Jacob and I have your -interests at heart. He didn’t consider the man a proper person for you -to be acquainted with!” - -Diana opened her lips to reply, but the colonel forestalled her, -anticipating trouble. “He’s been my guest, Jinny,” he remarked placidly. - -Mrs. Eaton teased her head. “You’d entertain Tom, Dick and Harry for -charity’s sake, Cousin David,” she retorted; “the first time I saw him -here he brought six cents in change to your daughter.” - -“He’s honest, Mrs. Eaton,” said the doctor, twinkling; “he’s a Quaker.” - -“I don’t know anything about Quakers,” she replied stiffly, “I never -met one!” and her tone signified that she did not want to. - -“Well, they’re not anarchists, Jinny!” observed the colonel; “perhaps, -you’ve heard of William Penn.” - -“I’m not quite a fool, David,” she retorted in exasperation. - -Dr. Cheyney was enjoying himself; he had taken the rocker by the steps -and was swaying gently, his broad straw hat on his knee. He took the -New York paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. “Perhaps you’d like -to read a review of the Cresset speech, madam?” he said amiably; -“they’ve got it here, and they speak of Trench as a young lawyer who -has suddenly roused a State from apathy.” - -“Thank you,” said Mrs. Eaton, with overwhelming politeness, “you are -too kind. Probably Diana would like to read it.” - -Diana was rosy with anger, and her eyes sparkled. “Cousin Jinny, I -don’t like the man any better than you do!” she declared, “and I detest -and loathe that Cresset speech; I’ve breakfasted on it, and dined on -it, and supped on it, until--until I hate the name of it!” - -“Diana,” said Dr. Cheyney, “you’ll need those pink capsules yet!” - -“I can’t see what you all admire in that man!” protested Mrs. Eaton -irritably; “he keeps a shop and he goes to vulgar political meetings; -if that isn’t enough, what is?” - -“Why, the truth is, Jinny, that he’s a real live man,” said the -colonel, putting on his spectacles to read the New York version of the -Cresset speech. - -“I prefer a gentleman,” said Mrs. Eaton crushingly. - -Dr. Cheyney twinkled. “Madam,” he said superbly, “so do I.” - -Colonel Royall, meanwhile, was following the speech, line by line, with -his finger. Half-way down the column, he lowered the paper. “After all, -he was advocating the Australian ballot,” he remarked thoughtfully. - -“He wants to go to the people for the election of senators,” said -Dr. Cheyney; “he doesn’t believe in our legislatures when the great -corporations are interested. Yes, I suppose he does like the Australian -ballot.” - -“I should think he would,” said Mrs. Eaton promptly; “I’ve always -looked upon Australia as a penal settlement.” - -Dr. Cheyney shook with silent laughter again. “Madam,” he said, “do you -think him a possible ticket-of-leave man?” - -“I am disposed to think anything of a man who can and does support -Garnett Yarnall for governor,” she replied frigidly. - -Dr. Cheyney’s face sobered suddenly, and Colonel Royall rustled the -paper uneasily. After all, she had cause; a Yarnall had shot her -husband. The two men felt it less keenly than Diana. She rose suddenly -and offered her elderly relative her arm. - -“Cousin Jinny, let’s go and see my new rose stocks,” she said mildly; -“they’ve been set out in the south garden.” - -Mrs. Eaton rose, propitiated, and accepted Diana’s arm, the two moving -off together in apparent amity. Dr. Cheyney’s eyes followed them, and -then came back to meet the peculiar sadness of Colonel Royall’s. - -“Do you think she’s--she’s like--” The colonel’s voice trailed; he was -looking after Diana. - -“No,” said Dr. Cheyney sharply, “no, she’s like your mother.” - -The wistful expression died in the other man’s eyes, and he forced -a smile. “You think so? Perhaps she does. Mother was a good woman, -God bless her memory,” he added reverently, “but a month ago”--he -leaned forward, and the hands that gripped the arms of his chair -trembled slightly--“a month ago I caught her looking at me; her eyes -are hazel, and”--he avoided the doctor’s glance, and colored with the -slow painfulness of an old man’s blush--“her eyes were just like her -mother’s.” - -Dr. Cheyney got up abruptly and laid his hand on his shoulder. “Wake -up, David,” he said sharply, “wake up--you’re dreaming.” - -“I haven’t breathed it to any one else, William,” Colonel Royall said, -“not in eighteen years--but I’ve seen it all the time.” - -His old friend eyed him grimly. “And it’s frightened you?” - -The colonel drew a deep breath. “William,” he said, “do you know how a -starving man would feel when he saw his last crust in danger?” - -The old doctor paced the broad veranda; beside it a tree of heaven -spread its graceful limbs, every branch still double tipped with the -rosy leaves of its spring budding. Before him stretched the tender -green of the south lawn, shaded by the grove of horse-chestnuts; beyond -he caught a distant glimpse of the river. - -“David,” he said uncompromisingly, “Diana has a noble heart, but--Jinny -Eaton is a fool.” - -“I know it,” said the colonel thoughtfully, “but she’s been a mother to -the girl and she loves her.” - -“She wants to marry her to Jacob,” snapped the doctor. - -“I know it,” said the colonel. - -“He’s not fit to tie her shoe,” retorted the doctor. “Jacob’s the -slickest critter in the county, but I haven’t got any more use for him -than Caleb Trench has--if he is your cousin.” - -The colonel looked thoughtful. “He’s very clever, William,” he -protested, “and he’s very much in love.” - -“Fiddlesticks!” said the doctor. - -Colonel Royall laughed a little in spite of himself. “You love Diana, -too,” he remarked. - -“I do,” said William Cheyney, “and I don’t believe Jacob will make her -happy. But, Lord bless me, David, you and I won’t do the choosing--Miss -Di will! In my opinion it won’t be Jacob Eaton, either.” Then he -added briskly: “This young lawyer of ours is right about Aylett; he’s -a machine man and the machine is rotten. We want Yarnall; I wish you’d -come to think so, too.” - -Colonel Royall thought, putting the tips of his fingers together. “The -truth is, the Eatons are too near to me,” he admitted quietly; “you -know Jinny can’t forget that a Yarnall shot her husband, and I don’t -know that I could ask it of her.” - -“Her husband was guilty,” said the doctor flatly. - -“I’m afraid he was,” admitted Colonel Royall, “though Mrs. Yarnall -denied it; the jury justified Yarnall.” - -“I can’t forgive one man for shooting another for an unworthy woman!” -said the doctor fiercely, forgetting many things. - -The slow red crept up to Colonel Royall’s hair. “I ought to have done -it,” he said simply; “but--but I let him live to marry her.” - -“Just so,” said William Cheyney; “solidly right, too; that’s purgatory -enough for most of ’em,” he added, under his breath, as he took the -long turn on the veranda. - -Colonel Royall did not hear him; his head was bare, and the light -breeze stirred his white hair; it had turned suddenly, twenty years -before. “It would be against all precedent for any of the family to -favor a Yarnall,” he remarked slowly. - -“Jacob won’t,” said the doctor shortly, a dry smile crinkling the -wrinkles around his kindly, shrewd old eyes. - -“Nor would you, in Jacob’s place,” countered the colonel, tapping the -floor with his stick. - -A negro appeared promptly at the door. - -“Two juleps, Kingdom,” he ordered. - -Dr. Cheyney ceased his promenade and sat down. “This State’s got to be -cleaned up, David,” he said maliciously; “we’ve got too much machine. -I’m all for Trench.” - -“I’m not sure I know what ails us,” objected the colonel humorously; -“we’re either bewitched or hypnotized. In a fortnight we’ve set up -Caleb Trench, and I reckon he’s more talked of than the volcano in the -West Indies.” - -“He will be later,” said the doctor; “there’s a man for you!” - -“They say he began by getting hold of the backwoodsmen; they go down -to his shop and discuss politics once a week; he organized them into a -club and made them take a pledge to vote for Yarnall.” - -“All rot,” said William Cheyney fiercely; “do you think the man’s a -damned rogue? He’s talked straight politics to ’em, and he’s showed -up some of the machine methods. By the way, David, he’s set his face -against Jacob Eaton’s get-rich-quick games. I don’t believe in ’em -myself; when that young bounder, Macdougall, came at me about them -the other day in the bank, I told him I kept all my money tied up in -a stocking. I reckon he thinks I do,” twinkled the doctor, “because -I’ve nothing in their bank. David, I hope you’re not favoring Jacob’s -schemes too heavily?” - -Colonel Royall looked perplexed. Kingdom-Come had just brought out a -tray with two tinkling glasses of iced mint julep, and he watched the -white-headed negro set them out deftly on the little portable basket -tea-table of Diana’s. - -“How are you feeling, Kingdom?” Dr. Cheyney asked genially, eying the -juleps. - -“Right po’ly, Doctah,” Kingdom replied, showing his ivories, “but I -manages ter keep my color.” - -“Eh?” said the doctor, startled. - -Kingdom-Come beamed. “But I’se got er mis’ry in my chest, an’ I reckon -I’se got vertigo an’ congestion ob de brain; I hez dese er dizzy turns, -suh.” - -“Take some castor oil, Kingdom,” said the doctor, placidly stirring his -julep, “and put a mustard plaster on your stomach.” - -“Yass, suh, thank yo’,” said Kingdom, a little weakly. “I’se done took -two doses ob oil this week, an’ I’se been rubbin’ myse’f wid some ob -dis yer kittycurah.” - -“Good Lord!” said Dr. Cheyney, “take a pint of whiskey and go to bed.” - -“William,” said Colonel Royall, after Kingdom had gone, “I don’t see -why you set your face so flatly against Jacob Eaton’s investments. Who -has talked this up?” - -“Caleb Trench,” said the doctor. - -“Heavens!” ejaculated Colonel Royall, “is there no end?” - -“To him?” Dr. Cheyney twinkled, “No, sir, not yet. He’s taken the -packing out of Jacob; he says that more than half these countrymen vote -with the Eaton faction because they’ve put all their money in the Eaton -Investment Company, and I’ll be hanged, sir, if he doesn’t state it -fairly.” - -Colonel Royall got up and stood, a towering figure of a man, his -blue eyes kindled. “William,” he said hoarsely, “that doesn’t sound -honorable.” - -“David,” retorted the old man uncompromisingly, “I tell the truth and -shame the devil--I’ve got an eighty-mile circuit in this county, sir, -and it’s true!” - -“Then, sir,” said Colonel Royall, “this county’s rotten.” - -William Cheyney leaned back in his chair and smiled quietly. “It’s the -same way in the State; the Eaton Company’s offering bigger interest -than any other company this side of the Mississippi; it hasn’t cut its -rate, even in the panic, and it’s getting new investors every day--or -it did till Caleb Trench got up at Cresset and cut the thing in two.” - -“Caleb Trench?” repeated the colonel slowly. “William, that young man’s -creating a sensation. I begin to doubt him; does he mean it, or is he -bidding for notoriety?” - -Dr. Cheyney smiled grimly. “David,” he said, “you ask Judge Hollis; he -believes in him and so do I.” - -“I don’t know why I shouldn’t believe in Jacob,” said the colonel -stiffly; “he’s my own blood, and we might as well believe in one young -man as another. What’s the difference between them?” - -“Well,” replied the doctor slowly, “when I go into a grocery store and -see one basket of eggs labelled ‘Box eggs, fresh, thirty-two cents,’ -and the other basket, ‘Hen’s eggs, forty-five cents,’ I’m kind of -naturally suspicious of the box eggs. Not that I want to bear too hard -on Jacob.” - - - - -X - - -MEANWHILE Jacob Eaton rode out with Diana in the early mornings, before -even Dr. Cheyney had his breakfast. Jacob had no taste for sunrise or -the lark, but if Diana rode in the first freshness of morning, he rode -stubbornly beside her, more stubbornly than she cared to admit. - -After all, Jacob was her third cousin, and the propinquity, with the -close family relations which Mrs. Eaton jealously maintained, made him -seem even nearer. Without liking him very much, Diana had tolerated -his constant presence for so many years that it had become a habit. -No doubt we could grow happily accustomed to a hippopotamus as a pet, -if we could keep it long enough in our individual bathtubs. Usage -and propinquity! How many recalcitrants have been reconciled to an -unwelcome fate by these two potent factors in life! - -Diana, riding up the hill through clustered masses of rhododendrons, -was happily indifferent to Jacob at her bridle rein. Jacob was useful, -rather pleasant to talk to, and paid her the constant homage of -undisguised admiration. After all, it was pleasant to be with one to -whom she meant so much. She could hold him lightly at arm’s length, for -Jacob was too wise to hazard all for nothing, yet she was aware that -her lightest wish had its weight. It was only when he tried to assume -the right of an elder brother to meddle with her affairs, as he had at -Kitty Broughton’s ball, that she resented his interference. - -Jacob had, indeed, slipped into her ways with a tame-cattiness which, -no matter how it accorded with his sleek appearance, was in direct -contradiction to the character behind the mask. Diana, flouting him -in her girlish coquetry, was but sowing the wind; if she married him -later, she would reap the whirlwind, yet half her relations desired it. -Thus wisely does the outsider plan a life. - -Diana stopped abruptly and, bending from the saddle, gathered a large -cluster of pink rhododendrons; the dew was on them still and it -sparkled in the sunshine. - -“Why didn’t you let me break it for you?” Jacob asked mildly; “sometime -when you bend that way from your saddle you’ll lose your balance and--” - -“Take a cropper,” said Diana. “I hope I shan’t break my nose.” - -“Or your head, which would mean my heart,” he retorted. - -She laughed; she was very charming when she laughed and, perhaps, she -knew it. Diana was very human. “Which is harder than my head,” she -said; “in fact, I have heard something of the nether millstone.” - -“You would find it very brittle if you turned the cold shoulder,” said -Jacob calmly, flicking the young shrubs with his crop. - -“A piece of broken crockery,” mocked Diana; “you will have it mended -when I marry some one else.” - -“On the contrary,” he retorted, unmoved, “to quote the romancer: ‘_Je -vais me fich’ à l’eau._’” - -“What?” she questioned, with lifted brows. - -“It’s French,” he explained. - -“So I supposed,” replied Diana, “but not as I learned it.” - -“Nevertheless it is forcible,” said Jacob; “it means, inelegantly, that -I will pitch myself into the river.” - -“Inelegant and untruthful then,” said she. - -“I got it from a book,” he said, “a recent one, and famous. I am -quoting the modern novelists.” - -They had reached the crest of a low ridge, and through a growth of red -cedars could see the flash and leap of the river. Diana drew rein and -turned her face fully toward her companion. - -“Jacob,” she said abruptly, “why did you give all that money to -Juniper?” - -Jacob smiled, his eyelids drooping; in the sunshine his clear smooth -skin looked waxy, as though it would take the impression of a finger -and keep it. “There’s an instance of my heart, Diana,” he said -sententiously. - -She studied him attentively. “Was it altogether that?” she demanded, -the straight line of her brows slightly contracted. - -“What else?” he asked lightly, leaning forward to break off a cedar -berry and toss it away again. “Look here, Di, you’re down on me--what’s -the matter?” - -“I want to understand you,” she replied slowly; “fifty dollars is too -large a sum to give all at once to a negro; you’ll corrupt a member of -the church, a brand snatched from the burning. Juniper has experienced -religion.” - -Jacob laughed. “Been stealing chickens lately, I reckon.” - -“No, it was Lysander,” corrected Diana demurely. - -“The shopkeeper lawyer can defend him again,” said her cousin; “all the -fools are not dead yet.” - -“No, indeed,” she agreed, so heartily that he looked up quickly. - -“I really meant to help the old nigger,” he said frankly; “he’s always -begging, and he’s been sick and out of work. I’m sorry if you think -fifty too much.” - -Diana touched her horse lightly, and they moved on. “Too much at one -time,” she said more gently. “He’ll spend it in an enormous supply of -tobacco, watermelons and whiskey, and probably go to the workhouse. If -he does, you’ll have to bail him out, Jacob.” - -“Isn’t there a bare possibility that the watermelons might kill him?” -he suggested meekly. - -“A negro?” Diana laughed. “Jacob, why didn’t you give it to Aunt -Charity?” - -“She has, at present, purloined the silver teapot,” said Jacob; “my -soul loves justice.” - -She looked sharply at him, her young face severe. “I believe you had -another motive. Are you sure that it was for his good, and only for his -good?” - -“Cross my heart,” said Jacob devoutly. “See here, Diana, why should I -fritter away my substance? Of what use on earth could that old nigger -be to me?” - -She looked thoughtful. The horses moved on evenly abreast. “None that -I can see,” she admitted honestly; “after all, it was good of you; -forgive me.” - -“After all, there is some good in me,” he replied, paraphrasing. “I’m -worth noticing, my fair cousin!” - -“When you come directly across the horizon!” laughed Diana. - -Below them now was the highroad, and as they looked along the white -bend of its elbow, below the ash and the young maples, they both saw -the tall straight figure of Caleb Trench. He did not see them; he -passed below them, and turned the shoulder of the hill. Diana said -nothing; her eyes had reluctantly followed him. - -“There goes a fool,” remarked her cousin, “or a knave.” - -“Why is it,” asked Diana, “that a man, failing to agree with another, -calls him names?” - -He laughed, his cheek reddening. “Why should I agree with that shyster?” - -“Why should that shyster agree with you?” she mocked, a light kindling -in her clear eyes. - -Jacob chuckled unpleasantly. “I hope you’ve never claimed that six -cents again,” he commented; “he’s got your receipt, you know.” - -It was her turn to redden. “You are jealous of his growing reputation,” -she flung at him. - -He shrugged a shoulder. “Of that beautiful speech at Cresset’s, in -which he painted me as the devil and all his works?” - -“I admired the Cresset speech!” she exclaimed, a sentiment which would -have amazed Mrs. Eaton. - -Jacob laughed. “So do I,” he said, “it was first-class campaign matter, -but--well, Di, personal abuse is a little vulgar, isn’t it, just now?” - -“Not if you deserved it,” she said defiantly. - -“I’d take any amount if you’d promise not to dance with him again.” - -“I’m the best judge of my partners,” said Diana, with indignant -dignity; “if any one speaks it should be my father.” - -“Aptly said,” he admitted suavely, “and the colonel is one in a -thousand, but you wind him around your little finger.” - -“You do not know Colonel Royall,” said Colonel Royall’s daughter, with -just pride. - -Jacob lifted his hat. “_Vive le Roi!_” he said. - -She gave him an indignant glance. “You are a mocker.” - -“On my soul, no!” - -“Jacob,” said Diana, “your soul, like the rich man’s, may scarcely pass -through the eye of a needle.” - -“My dear cousin, my soul has been passing through it under your -rebukes. What shall I do to please you?” - -Diana rode on, her chin up. The path was narrow, and Jacob, falling -behind, had only the privilege of admiring the long slim lines of her -athletic young back, and the way she sat her horse. Beyond the cedars -the path forked on the road, and he came up again. - -“I am chastened,” he said; “shall I be forgiven?” - -She laughed softly, then her mood changed. “Jacob,” she said, quite -seriously, “you are sure that you’ll renominate Governor Aylett?” - -“My dear Di, I am sure of nothing in this world but death,” he retorted -dryly, “but I’ll be--” - -“Cut it out, Jacob,” she cautioned, her eyes twinkling. - -“I won’t have Yarnall!” he finished lamely. - -She nodded. “I understand, but what is this about the backwoodsmen -being organized?” - -“Your friend, the shyster,” he mocked, “he has that line of politics; -he speaks well on top of a barrel. I suppose he can empty one, too.” - -“Not as easily as you could, Jacob,” she retorted ruthlessly. - -He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been in love with you these many years, -and thus do you trample on my feelings!” - -“I wish you had feelings,” said Diana calmly; “you have mechanism.” - -“Upon my word!” he cried; “this is the last straw.” - -“You should be a successful politician,” she continued; “you are a -successful business man. Success is your Moloch; beware, Jacob!” - -“I am willing to sit at the feet of the prophetess,” he protested. -“I’ve served seven years, I--” - -“Jacob,” said Diana, “don’t be silly. There’s Kingdom-Come at the gate; -they are waiting to turn the omelet. Come!” and she galloped down to -the high gateway, the rhododendrons clustering at her saddle-bow and -the sunshine in her face. - -Kingdom-Come grinned. “Fo’ de Lawd, Miss Di, I reckon yo’ clean forgot -dat folks eats in de mawnin’.” - - - - -XI - - -THE next morning Judge Hollis walked into Caleb Trench’s little back -room. - -In the broad daylight the judge was a stately figure, tall, stout, -white-haired, with a high Roman nose and a mouth and chin like a -Spartan’s. He always wore an old-fashioned, long frock coat, a high -pointed collar and stiff black tie; in summer his waistcoat was white -marseilles, with large buttons and a heavy watch-chain; he carried a -gold-headed cane and he took snuff. - -He found Trench in his shirt sleeves, plodding over some papers, his -face flushed and his jaw set, a trick he had in perplexity. The judge -eyed him grimly. “Well,” he said, “what’s the price of cockerels -to-day?” - -Trench, who had not noticed his entrance, rose and gave the old man a -chair. “To-day I’m figuring out the price of men,” he replied; “every -single investor in the Eaton Land Company has been notified--in one -way or another--that only Aylett men are to go to the Democratic -Convention.” - -The judge whistled softly. - -“It’s true,” said Trench, throwing back his head with a peculiar -gesture of the right hand that was at once characteristic and -striking. “I’m ashamed for you Democrats,” he added. - -The judge squared his massive shoulders and gripped his gold-headed -cane. “You young black Republican agitator,” he retorted bitterly, -“produce your evidence.” - -Trench brought his palm down sharply on his desk. “It’s here,” he said; -“Aaron Todd has been threatened, but he did not put in his last savings -and is standing firm; the rest are like frightened sheep. Because I -pointed out this lever in my Cresset speech they seem to think it’s a -fulfillment, and they’ve poured in on me to-day to beg me to get their -investments out for them! Meanwhile the company has declared that no -dividends will be paid until after election, neither will they refund. -If I carry the cases into court against Eaton, he’ll take advantage -of the bankruptcy law. The investors in the country are frightened -to death, and they’d vote for Satan for governor if they thought it -would insure their money. Yarnall’s an honest man, but there are fifty -hand-bills in circulation accusing him of everything short of arson and -murder. That’s your Democratic campaign.” - -“And your Republican one is to stir up the niggers,” thundered the -judge. “Peter Mahan’s been out in the Bottoms speaking to ten thousand -blacks! By the Lord Harry, sir, I wish they were all stuffed down his -throat!” - -Whereat Caleb Trench laughed suddenly. “Judge,” he said, “if Peter -Mahan could be elected, you’d have a clean straight administration.” - -“He can’t be, sir,” snapped the judge, “and I’m glad of it!” - -“You’ll be sorry,” Trench remarked calmly, “unless you nominate -Yarnall.” - -“I’m for Aylett,” the judge said soberly. “I shall vote for Aylett in -the convention; Yarnall will split the party. That’s what you want, you -young cub!” - -Caleb smiled. “I’m interested to know how much money it will take to -nominate Aylett,” he said; “you’re for Aylett, judge, but you’re not -strong enough to defeat Yarnall.” - -“Neither are you strong enough to nominate him,” said the judge -sharply. “You look out for the blood feud, Caleb; these fellows behind -Jacob Eaton haven’t forgotten that the Yarnalls drew the last blood. -They’re mighty like North American Indians, and your Cresset speech -stirred up a hornet’s nest. I’m for Aylett and peace.” - -Trench folded the papers on his desk reflectively. “I can’t make out -Jacob Eaton,” he said. - -The judge chuckled. “He’s a mighty queer package,” he said grimly, -“a cross between a mollycoddle and a bully. Jinny Eaton raised him -in jeweler’s cotton for fear he’d catch the measles, and he went to -college with a silver christening mug and a silk quilt. When he got -there he drank whiskey and played the races, and some poor devil, who -was working his way through college, coached him for his exams. He got -out with a diploma but no honors, and enough bad habits to sink a ship. -Then Jinny introduced him to society as the Model Young Man. He’s been -speculating ever since, and he’s got the shrewd business sense that old -man Eaton had. He doesn’t care two cents for Aylett, but he’s going -to fight Yarnall to the knife. He-- What the devil’s the matter with -Zeb Bartlett?” the judge suddenly added, stooping to look out of the -window. “He’s been walking past the front door, back and forth, four or -five times since I’ve been sitting here, and he’s making faces until he -looks like a sculpin.” - -Trench laughed grimly. “He does that at intervals,” he replied, -“because I won’t lend him a dollar to get tipsy on.” - -The judge grunted, his head still lowered to command a view of the -shambling figure of the idiot. Then he rose suddenly and went to the -window, thrusting his hand into his pocket. “Here, Zeb!” he shouted, -in his stentorian tones, “take that and get drunk, and I’ll have you -arrested,” and he flung out fifty cents. - -Bartlett groveled for it in the dust, found it and grinned idiotically. -Then, retreating a few steps, he looked back and kissed his hand, still -gurgling. The judge watched him out of sight, then he sat down and took -snuff. “Don’t let that fool hang around here,” he said sharply; “it -will get a crank into his head and the Lord knows how it’s going to -come out. Give him a quarter and let him go.” - -“I won’t,” said Caleb dryly. “I’d rather give it to his grandmother; -she’ll need it.” - -“To be sure,” said the judge ironically, “and she’d give it to him with -a dime on top of it; that’s a woman down to the ground. If there’s -anything worthless within a hundred miles, they’ll adore it!” - -As he spoke, there was a rustle in the outer shop and Miss Sarah -suddenly thrust her head in the door. She always wore the most -extraordinary bonnets, and the one to-day had a long green plume that -trembled and swayed behind her head like the pendulum of an eight-day -clock. - -“Judge,” she said, “I wish you’d get up and go home. It sounds rude, -Caleb, but he’s always insisting on dinner at one o’clock sharp, -because his grandmother had it, and he’s never there until the roast is -overdone or the gravy is spoiled! Besides, I’m alarmed; I’ve discovered -something about Juniper.” Miss Sarah came in and shut the door and put -her back against it, her air conveying some deep and awful mystery. -“He’s got fifty dollars.” - -The judge brought down his heavy brows over his high nose in a judicial -frown, but his eyes snapped. “What’s the nigger been up to?” he asked -calmly; “been negotiating law business for him, Trench?” - -Caleb shook his head, smiling. - -“He’s been stealing,” said Miss Sarah with conviction. - -“Think likely,” said the judge, “but from whom? Not me, Sarah; if it -had been from me it would have been fifty cents.” - -“I never thought it was from you,” she retorted scornfully, “but I’ve -hunted the house over to see if he could have pawned anything and--” - -The judge brought his hand down on his knee. “The silver teapot, Sarah!” - -She shook her head. “Aunt Charity’s got it; she gave a supper last -night and they had their usual fight and she locked him out. He sat on -the step all night and came to our house for something to eat; then he -showed the fifty-dollar bill. Of course he stole it.” - -The judge meditated, looking grim. - -It was Trench who made the suggestion. “Isn’t that rather large for -campaign money?” he asked mildly. - -The judge swore, then he got up and reached for his hat. “I’ll make him -take it back,” he said viciously. - -“Take it where?” demanded Miss Sarah vaguely. - -“To Ballyshank!” retorted the judge, jamming his hat down on his head. - -They all emerged into the outer room just as Miss Royall appeared in -the shop-door. She was dressed in a pink muslin with a wide straw hat -trimmed with pink roses, and looked like a woodland nymph. The judge -swung off his hat. - -“We’ve been having a political tournament,” he said, “and now comes the -Queen of Love and Beauty.” - -Diana liked the old man and smiled her most charming smile. Miss Sarah -went up and pecked her cheek, a rite that elderly ladies still like -to perform in public. Trench, longing to play the host but too proud -to risk a rebuke, bowed silently. Something in Diana’s eye warned him -that she was minded to make him repent the dance she had given him; the -scoldings she had received were rankling in her mind. Unhappily, too, -something in the judge’s manner said, “So ho! is this a flirtation?” -Her cheeks burned. - -The judge blundered. “Let me offer a chair,” he said, with -old-fashioned courtesy, “then we will ask you to help us solve a riddle -of Sarah’s. She has found that Juniper is unusually rich, a kind of -ebony John Jacob Astor, the proud possessor of fifty dollars.” - -Diana declined the chair. “Juniper?” she repeated. “Oh, yes, I know all -about it!” - -“Did he steal it from you, dear?” Miss Sarah asked excitedly. - -“Jacob Eaton gave it to him,” Diana replied simply, “he thought he -needed it; he’s been out of work, and you know what a nuisance Lysander -is.” - -“But fifty dollars, my dear!” protested Miss Hollis faintly. - -Diana caught the glances between the judge and Trench and stiffened. -“My cousin is generous,” she said. - -The judge took snuff. - -Poor Caleb fell into the snare. “Miss Royall, do sit down,” he urged, -pushing forward the chair. - -Diana’s chin went up; her eyes sparkled. “Thank you, I only came for -that bolt of pink ribbon,” she said grandly, indicating it with her -parasol, and then, opening her purse, “How much is it?” - -“It’s sold,” said Trench, and shut his lips like a steel trap. - -Diana turned crimson. “Oh,” she said, then she swung around and drew -her arm through Miss Sarah’s thin black silk-clad elbow, that was like -the hook of a grappling iron. “I think you were going?” she cooed. - -The old lady hesitated, confused. “I--I--” she began. - -“Here’s the carriage,” said Diana sweetly, and drew her out of the -door; “there’s room for you, judge,” she called back, not even glancing -at Trench. - -“I’ll walk,” said the judge, “I’m a young man yet; don’t you forget it, -my girl!” - -Diana laughed. “The youngest I know, in heart,” she said, and waved her -hand as they drove off. - -The judge looked at Caleb soberly. “You’ve done it, young man,” he said -quietly. - -A slow painful blush went up to Caleb’s hair. “So be it,” he said -bitterly. “I’m human and I’ve borne all I can,” and he turned away. -“My God!” he added, with a violence so unusual and so heartfelt that -it startled the judge, “does that girl think me the dirt under her -feet because I’ve sold ribbon? I’m a gentleman; I’m as well-born and -as well-bred as she is, but she won’t recognize it--more than half -an hour. One day she’s--she’s an angel of courtesy and kindness, the -next she insults me. She and Eaton have made my life here a hell!” He -clenched his hands until the nails bit into the flesh. - -“She’s young,” said Judge Hollis slowly, “and ill advised.” - -Trench struggled to be calm; his face paled again, the light died out -of his eyes. “Let her leave me in peace!” he cried at last. - -The judge drew a pattern on the floor with his stick. “She admires you -immensely,” he said deliberately, “and she respects you.” - -Trench laughed bitterly. - -The judge put on his hat again and held out his hand. “I’ll give you -the odds on the money, Caleb,” he said, “but I’d like to know--by the -Lord Harry, I’d like to know--what Eaton’s buying niggers for at this -late date?” - -He got no answer. Caleb’s face was as set as flint. - - - - -XII - - -SOMETIMES early in the morning, and often at evening, Caleb Trench took -long walks alone with his dog. It was after sunset, in the sweet long -twilight of July, that he came up through the woods behind Colonel -Royall’s place, and approached the long elbow of the road, shadowed by -the tall walnuts and hickories, and clothed here and there with the -black-jack oak. Before him lay the beautiful valley. He could see the -curl of the mist below Paradise Ridge, and beyond, the long gray folds -of the distant mountains. He looked up toward the beaten trail that led -to Angel Pass, and he could perceive the fragrance of wild magnolias. - -Shot, who was running ahead, stopped suddenly and stood at attention, -one shaggy ear erect. Then Caleb saw the gleam of a white dress, and -Miss Diana Royall appeared, walking toward them. Over her head the -green boughs locked, and in the soft light she had a beauty that seemed -to Trench more than the right of a girl so apparently heartless. He -would have passed by the other road, merely raising his hat, but she -called to him. - -“Good evening, Mr. Trench,” she said, with that bewitching little -drawl of hers, which made her voice almost caressing and deceived the -unwary. “Your dog remembers me more often than you do.” - -Caleb’s face stiffened. Oh, the mockery of women! “I remember you more -often than you remember me,” he replied courteously. - -Diana bit her lip. She had not expected this, and she hated him for -it; yet he had never looked so strong and fine as he did to-night. In -the soft light the harsh lines were softened, the power remained, and -something of sweetness in the eyes. “Oh,” she said, “have I ever failed -to remember you?” - -Trench made no direct reply, but smiled. Something in her way, at the -moment, was very girlish, the whim of a spoiled child. She had been -gathering some ferns, and she arranged them elaborately, standing in -the path. His attitude vexed her, his manner was so detached; she was -accustomed to adulation. She swept him a look from under her thick dark -lashes. “I remember dancing with you at Kitty Broughton’s ball,” she -observed. - -“You were very kind,” he replied at once, “I remember it, too; you -danced with me twice.” - -“Because I promised to dance if you asked me; I promised Judge Hollis,” -she said demurely. - -“But the second?” Caleb was human, and his heart quickened under the -spell of her beauty. “I hope that was on my own account.” - -“The second?” Diana rearranged the ferns. “I danced then because my -cousin did not wish me to,” she said. - -Trench reddened. “I am sorry that you felt compelled to do it--twice,” -he said involuntarily, for he was angry. - -“You are very rude,” replied Diana, unmoved. - -“I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly, aware that he had been foolish -and lost his temper; “pray forgive me.” - -“It’s a matter of no consequence,” she said sweetly. - -His heart was filled with sudden wrath. Why need the girl be so brutal? -He did not know that Diana had been goaded by Mrs. Eaton and Jacob -until she was beyond reason; besides, his manner, which defied her, -was like tossing the glove at her feet. He had no appreciation of her -condescension, and he did not bear her flouting with meekness. Yet, -all the while, his strength and his repose made him immeasurably more -interesting than the young men of her acquaintance, which, of course, -was another reason to be unreasonable. - -“I did not see you at the Wilton-Cheyneys,” she said agreeably, -pressing the ferns against her cheek. - -“Quite naturally,” he replied coolly; “I was not asked.” - -“Oh!” - -There was a silence. The sweet soft twilight seemed to enfold them with -a touch like velvet; a Bob White whistled once in the stillness. - -“Miss Royall.” - -She looked up with her soft little smile, but his face froze it on her -lips. He looked stern and cold. “Yes?” she said, faintly startled. - -“Why do you say such things to me? You know that I’m not asked, that -I’m an outsider. A poor Yankee shopkeeper, I believe your set calls me; -I do not know. Certainly I do not care; a man must live, you know, even -out of your class. I have a right to live. I also have a right to my -own pride. I am a gentleman.” - -They stood looking at each other, the width of the woodland path -between them, and that indefinable, impalpable thing which is neither -sympathy nor antagonism but which, existing once between two souls, -can, never be forgotten,--a white flame that burns at once through all -barriers of misunderstanding, the divine spark of a love that is as far -beyond commonplace passion as the soul is above the body that it must -leave forever. The man felt it and bowed reluctantly before it; the -girl struggled and resisted. - -“If I did not know that you were,” she said, as quietly as she could, -“I would not be here talking to you now. I’m afraid you think me very -ill mannered. The last was really thoughtlessness.” - -He looked at her relentlessly. “But the first?” - -She blushed scarlet. “I--I did not mean it.” - -His eyes still searched her, but there was no tenderness in them; they -were cold and gray. “That is not quite true, Miss Royall.” - -Diana winced; she felt ten years old and knew it was her own fault. “I -think it is you who are rude now,” she said, rallying, “but”--it choked -her, she held out her hand--“let us be friends.” - -He shook his head slowly. “No,” he said, “that can’t be until you -are sure I am your equal. I’ve picked up crumbs long enough, Miss -Royall,--forgive me.” - -She experienced a curious feeling of defeat, as her hand dropped at -her side. She was angry, yet she admired him for it. She remembered -that night when he brought the hateful six pennies and she had behaved -disgracefully. Would he always put her in the wrong? “I am sorry,” she -said haughtily; “I was offering you my friendship.” - -He smiled bitterly. “Were you, or mocking me with it?” - -“Mr. Trench!” - -“Forgive me,” he said, in a low voice, but with less self-control, “I -came here a poor man; it was necessary to make my bread, and I would -have swept offices to do it. I asked nothing and I received”--he smiled -with exceeding bitterness--“nothing. Then, unhappily, Judge Hollis -found out that I was well-born; he told a few people that I was a -gentleman. It was a serious mistake; I have been treated like a dog -ever since.” He was thrashing the wayside brush with his stick, and -unconsciously beheaded a dozen flowers; they fell at Diana’s feet, -but neither of them looked down. “I do not wish to force myself upon -your acquaintance, Miss Royall,” he went on, the torrent of pent-up -passion unspent. “I understand the reason of your condescension at the -ball, but couldn’t you have found a more agreeable way to chastise your -cousin? I must have been insufferable?” - -The intensity of the man’s wounded pride had forced itself upon Diana; -she was crimson with mortification, yet she understood him--understood -him with a temperamental sympathy that sent a thrill of alarm through -her consciousness. “I never knew before how very bad my manners were,” -she said simply. - -He turned and looked at her. All that was womanly and beautiful in her -face was crystallized in the colorless atmosphere; her eyes dwelt upon -him with a kindness that was at once new and wholly unbearable. “I’m a -cub!” he retorted harshly; “how you must hate me!” - -“On the contrary,” she said very sweetly, “I like you.” - -Their eyes met with a challenge of angry pride, then a whimsical -smile quivered at the corners of her mouth, and she clasped her hands -innocently over her ferns. “When you begin to like me we shall be -friends,” she said. - -There was an instant of awkward silence, and then they both laughed, -not happily, but with a nervous quiver that suggested hysterical -emotion. - -“I do not know when I began--to dislike you,” he said. - -“I deserved it from the first, I fancy,” she retorted, hurrying on with -her determination to show her repentance; “I have behaved like a snob.” - -He did not reply; he stooped, instead, to pick up the flowers that he -had broken. “My mother would never step on a flower or leave it to die -in the road,” he explained simply; “whenever I remember it I pick them -up. As a boy I recollect thinking that there was some significance in -it, that I must not leave them to die.” - -Diana looked at him curiously, from under her lashes. What manner -of man was he? “It is a sweet thought,” she said, “in a woman--a -tenderness of heart.” - -“Her heart was as tender as her soul was beautiful,” said Caleb Trench; -“she died when I was twenty years old.” - -Diana held out her hand. “Will you give me the flowers?” she asked -simply. - -He gave them with a slight flush of surprise. “They are poor and -broken,” he apologized lamely. - -“I see that you think I have neither a heart nor a soul,” she replied. - -He smiled. “I do not let myself think of either, Miss Royall,” he said; -“I fancy that a wise man will always avoid the dizzy heights, and even -a foolish one will see a precipice.” - -Diana was silent; that she understood him would have been apparent to -the initiated, for her little ears were red, but the proud curve of her -lips remained firm and the steady glance of her eyes rested on the -darkening valley. The hills had purpled to gray, the sky was whitening, -and in the west the evening star shone like a point of flame. - -Out of the stillness her voice sounded unusually soft and sweet. “I’m -going to have some friends to tea to-morrow afternoon, Mr. Trench,” she -said; “will you come?” - -“No,” he replied, and then added: “Pardon me, that seems discourteous, -but I am not going out again here, Miss Royall.” - -Almost involuntarily she smiled. “We are playing the game of -tit-for-tat, Mr. Trench, and you’ve won.” - -“I have been a bear,” he replied, “but--Miss Royall, it’s growing dark; -let me take you home.” - -“I am waiting for my cousin,” she replied, and then blushed hotly. “I -promised to wait five minutes,” she explained hastily, “while he talked -to Mr. Saxton at the farm. I suppose it’s politics; we’ve been here -long enough to quarrel three times.” - -Trench assumed her engagement to Jacob Eaton and would not offer his -escort a second time. “I am taking the dog through the woods,” he said; -“shall we walk as far as the farm gate?” - -Diana laughed merrily. “I never went in search of a lost knight in -my life,” she said. “I’m going on; it’s quite light and beautiful -yet--good evening.” - -Trench swung around. “I will go with you,” he said at once, “if you -will permit me.” - -But at that moment Jacob Eaton came up. As he recognized Trench, he -stopped short and stared. Then he joined Diana without acknowledging -her companion. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, “but the old fool -was deaf. We may as well go on, Diana.” - -But Diana stood still. “This is Mr. Trench,” she said. - -The two men looked at each other. Eaton had just heard more of what -Caleb Trench thought of the Land Company, but he knew Diana. - -“How d’ye do,” he said curtly. - -Trench made no reply. Diana gathered up the soft white folds of her -skirt and took two steps away. “Good-night, Jacob,” she said sweetly, -“Mr. Trench will see me home. Tell Cousin Jinny I’ll bring over the -terrapin recipe in the morning.” - -Jacob said nothing, and Trench whistled to Shot. The dog came bounding -and followed his master and Miss Royall down the path. - -Jacob stood stock-still and regarded what seemed to him the beginning -of miracles. Was it possible that Diana was in open rebellion against -society? That Diana should be in open rebellion against him was -not amazing. She was wont to let him know that he was a mere speck -on the horizon, but that he regarded as pretty coquetry, and of no -consequence, because he intended to marry Diana. But that Diana should, -a second time, prefer Caleb Trench to him was beyond belief, and that -she should do it after certain revelations that he had just heard, was -adding insult to injury, for Jacob had suddenly found that the poor -Yankee shopkeeper lawyer was a foe worthy of his steel. He remained a -long time motionless, his heavy lids drooping over his eyes and his -brows meditative. He was, after all, a gentleman of resources, and it -was merely a question of how to use them. - - - - -XIII - - -IT was midnight and storming hard when Dr. Cheyney stopped at Caleb’s -door. Trench heard the wheels and opened it as the old man climbed down -from his high buggy. - -“Caleb, I’ve come for brandy; got any?” the doctor said briefly, coming -in with his head bent in the rain; his rubber coat was drawn up to his -ears, and the tails of it flapped against his thin legs. - -Trench had been reading late, and there was a fire in the stove in the -kitchen. “Go in and get dry a moment, Doctor,” he said, “while I get -brandy. It’s no night for you, and at this hour too; your friends must -remonstrate.” - -“Damn it, sir, am I not the doctor?” said the old man, lowering. - -“You’re that and something more, I take it,” Caleb replied, smiling. - -“More?” Dr. Cheyney was out of temper. “Nay, nay, I’m just a plain -doctor, and I can take care of both your big toes. These new-fangled -ones can’t, sir, that’s all! It’s the fashion now to have a doctor -for your nose and another for your toes and a third for your stomach. -Very good, let ’em! I do it all and don’t get paid for it; that’s the -difference.” - -“They do,” said Caleb, producing a flask of brandy. - -The doctor took it and thrust it deep into his big outside pocket. -“I’ll pay you when I get ready,” he said dryly. - -Trench laughed. He heard the swirl of the rain against the -window-panes; it was nearly as bad as the day he had sheltered Diana. -He looked keenly at the worn little old man and saw the streams of -water that had streaked his coat. “I have a great mind to shut you up -and keep you all night,” he remarked. - -“For a ransom?” said the doctor grimly; “you wouldn’t get it. Caleb, -that poor girl, Jean Bartlett, is dying.” - -Trench was startled. “I didn’t know she was ill,” he replied; “Zeb came -here and whined for money when the grandmother died so suddenly, but he -said nothing of Jean.” - -“He never does,” said Dr. Cheyney, “the young brute!” - -“Are you going there now?” Caleb asked. - -“Yep,” replied the doctor briefly; “I wanted more brandy, for I’m like -to catch my death, but I must be about,--she’s dying. She may pull -through until morning. Pneumonia--a cold that last bad storm. She lay -out in the field half the night. She’s done it a hundred times when -they harried her; this time it’s killed her. She’s not twenty.” - -Caleb reached for his hat. “I’m going with you,” he said simply. - -Dr. Cheyney threw him one of his shrewd looks. “Afraid to trust me -alone in the wet?” he asked dryly. - -Caleb smiled. “To tell you the truth I was thinking of Sammy. The poor -little dirty beggar appeals to me, he’s thoroughly boy, in spite of his -curious clothes, and Zeb is a drunken brute.” - -The doctor grunted and went out, making room for Caleb at his side in -the buggy. “I’m going to send Sammy to St. Vincent’s,” he said. - -“Poor Sammy!” said Caleb. - -The doctor clucked, and old Henk moved off, splashing through muddy -water up to his fetlocks. The road was dark, and the doctor had swung a -lantern between the back-wheels, a custom dear to rural communities; it -swung there, casting a dismal flare under the buggy, which looked like -a huge lightning-bug, with fire at its tail. - -“Good enough for him!” continued the doctor bluntly, referring to Sammy -and the foundling asylum. - -“Plenty,” assented Caleb, unmoved. - -This angered the doctor, as Caleb knew it would. - -“Little brat!” growled William Cheyney fiercely, “what was he born for? -Foundling asylum, of course!” - -“Of course,” agreed Caleb, and smiled in the darkness. - -“Damn!” said the doctor. - -They traveled on through the night; the wind swept the boughs down, -and the rain drove in their faces even under the hood. - -“I can’t take him, drat it!” the old man broke out again fiercely. -“I’ve boarded for sixty years; women are varmints, good women, I mean, -and the Colfaxes wouldn’t take Sammy for a day to save his soul; he’s a -child of shame.” - -Caleb laughed silently; he felt the doctor’s towering wrath. “After -all, wouldn’t it be a purgatory for a small boy to live with the -Colfaxes?” he asked. - -“Yep,” said the doctor, “it would. Miss Maria pins papers over the -cracks in the parlor blinds to keep the carpet from fading, and Miss -Lucinda dusts my office twice a day, for which she ought to be hung! I -reckon they’d make divided skirts for Sammy and a frilled nightgown.” - -“There are the Children’s Guardians in the city,” suggested Caleb -thoughtfully. - -“There’s the Reform School,” retorted the doctor bitingly. - -Meanwhile old Henk traveled on, gaining in speed, for part of the -road was on his way home and he coveted the flesh-pots of Egypt. The -splashing of his feet in the mire kept time with the sob of the gale. -Nearer and nearer drew the light in Jean Bartlett’s window. - -“I told the Royalls she was dying,” Dr. Cheyney said, “and to-day -Diana was there. She sat with her an hour and tried to quiet her. Jean -was raving and, at last, I ordered the girl away; she’d no business -worrying in such a scene as that; then she told me she would take -Sammy! She--Diana!” the old man flung out his free hand and beat the -air, “that girl! I wanted to shake her. Yet, it’s like her; she’s got -heart.” - -Caleb Trench, sitting back in his corner, summoned up a picture of the -old man and Diana, and could not quite reconcile it with the Diana he -knew. “You did not shake her,” he said; “what did you do?” - -“Sent her home,” said the doctor bluntly, “drat it! Do you think a girl -of her age ought to start a foundling asylum for charity’s sake? I told -her her father would have her ears boxed, and she laughed in my face. -David Royall worships her, but, Lordy, not even David would tolerate -that!” - -A low bough scraped the top of the carriage and they jogged on. -Presently, old Henk stopped unwillingly and they got down, a little -wet and stiff, and went silently into the house. It was stricken -silent, too, except for the ticking of a clock in the kitchen, and that -sounded to Caleb like a minute gun; it seemed to tick all through the -house,--the three small rooms below, the rickety stairs and the attic -above. There was a light in the kitchen, and there, on top of some old -quilts in a packing box, lay Sammy asleep. - -In the room beyond the kitchen, in the middle of the great, -old-fashioned four-poster, that was worn and scratched and without a -valance, lay Jean Bartlett. Her fair hair streamed across the pillow, -her thin arms lay extended on either side, her chin was up, she lay as -if on a cross, and she was dead. - -From the far corner rose the woman whom the doctor had left to watch -her. “She’s just gone, doctor,” she said laconically, without emotion. - -Dr. Cheyney shot a look at her from under his eyebrows, and went over -to look at Jean. The light from the poor little lamp fell full on her -thin small-featured face and showed it calm; she was as pretty as a -child and quite happy looking. - -“Thank God!” said the doctor, “that’s over. Where’s Zeb?” - -“Up-stairs, drunk,” said the woman; “if it warn’t raining so hard I’d -go.” - -The doctor looked over his spectacles. “Then you’ll take the child -along,” he said gravely. - -“That I won’t!” said she, “I’ve children of my own. I won’t have none -such as him.” - -“Oh, you won’t?” exclaimed the old man. - -“I thought you’d take him,” said she, reddening. - -“There are two women folks up at the house,” said the doctor dryly; -“being a nameless child--out he goes!” - -“Well, I don’t care,” said the nurse fiercely, “I feel so myself; -there’s the foundling asylum.” - -“He’ll fall on the stove here in the morning,” remarked the doctor. - -The woman shut her mouth. - -“Zeb’s drunk,” the old man added. - -“I won’t take him,” she said flatly; “if I do, nobody’ll take him -away. It’s the same with a baby as it is with a stray kitten, once you -take it you keep it. I ain’t goin’ to take Jean Bartlett’s brat.” - -“Don’t!” snapped the doctor, “for of such is the kingdom of heaven!” - -Then he went out, turning his collar up again to his ears. “I’m going -for the undertaker, Caleb.” - -They stopped as he spoke and looked down at Jean’s boy. He lay with -his arm across his face; he had not been undressed and one foot hung -pendent in a forlorn and heelless shoe. - -“The end of the drama,” commented the doctor dryly, “the sufferer.” - -Caleb stooped down and gently lifted the sleeping child; he wrapped the -old quilt about him, and bore him to the door. The doctor followed, -then he reached over and put his hand on the latch. - -“What are you doing?” he asked sharply. - -“I’ve taken him,” said Trench calmly; “open the door.” - -“You’ve no one to care for him.” Dr. Cheyney eyed him keenly. - -“No,” he replied; “so much the better, the place is lonely.” - -“You know what they’ll say?” - -The young man’s face stiffened. “What?” - -“That he’s your child,” said the doctor. - -“Open the door,” said Caleb Trench. - -The doctor opened it, then Trench stood straight, Sammy’s tousled head -on his shoulder. - -“Dr. Cheyney,” he said sternly, “if every stone in Paradise Ridge rose -up to accuse me, I’d still do as I pleased.” - -William Cheyney smiled grimly. “I believe you would,” he said, “but let -me tell you, Caleb, you’ve got your fate by the forelock now!” - -Yet he helped Trench put the sleeping child into the carriage, and -as they did it a new sound gurgled into the night, the voice of the -tippler in the attic, who had been shut up there alone and frightened, -but was sipping and sipping to keep up his spirits. Now he sang, one -kind of spirits rising as the other kind went down. And the song that -followed them through the night, as they drove away from the house of -death, with the nameless child between them, was “After the Ball.” - -“The Lord forgive us!” said the doctor musingly; “it’s ‘after the ball’ -with most of us, and then the straight house! G’long with you, Henk!” - - - - -XIV - - -JUNIPER’S spouse, Aunt Charity, was in the habit of sweeping out -Caleb’s office and washing his windows, and the morning after Jean -Bartlett’s death was her morning for scouring the premises. She was -a stout old woman, nearly black, with a high pompadour, the arms and -shoulders of a stonemason, and “a mighty misery” in her side. She -stopped five times in the course of sweeping the inner office and -stood, leaning on her broom, to survey the bundle of indiscriminate -clothes on the floor, which was Sammy. - -The transfer had disturbed him so little that, after his first screams -of surprise, he had renewed his insatiable demands for pennies, and -having one clasped tightly in either fist he sat in the middle of the -floor viewing the world in general, and Aunt Charity in particular, -with the suspicion of a financier. On her side, suspicion was equally -apparent. - -“Fo’ de Lawd!” she said, and swept another half yard, then stopped and -viewed the intruder. “Fo’ de Lawd!” she said again. - -Sammy heard her and clasped his pennies tighter; he read enmity in her -eye and doubted. Aunt Charity swept harder, her broom approaching the -rear end of Sammy’s calico petticoat. “Git up, yo’ white trash, yo’,” -she commanded, using the broom to emphasize her order. - -“Won’t!” wailed Sammy, “won’t! Shan’t have my pennies!” - -“Git up!” said Aunt Charity; “w’at yo’ heah for, ennyway?” - -“Yow!” yelled Sammy, wriggling along before the broom and weeping. - -On this scene entered Caleb Trench, grave, somewhat weary, and with -a new stern look that came from a night’s wrestle with his own will. -“What’s all this, Aunt Charity?” - -“Ain’t noffin,” said she aggressively; “I’se sweepin’. I ain’t doin’ -noffin an’ I ain’t gwine ter do noffin to dat pore white trash.” - -“Yes, you will,” said Caleb calmly; “you’ll give him a bath and put -some decent clothes on him.” - -“N-o-o-o-o-o!” shrieked Sammy. - -“’Deed I ain’t!” retorted Aunt Charity, with indignation. “Ain’t dat -Jean Bartlett’s chile?” - -Trench nodded, looking from the old black woman to the small aggressive -bundle on the floor. Aunt Charity tossed her head. “I ain’t gwine ter -touch him!” - -A sudden fierce light shone in Caleb’s gray eyes, a light that had -a peculiarly quelling effect on the beholder. Aunt Charity met it -and cowered, clasping her broom. “You’ll do what I say,” he replied, -without raising his voice. - -“Fo’ de Lawd!” gasped Aunt Charity and whimpered; “yo’ sho ain’t gwine -ter keep dat chile heah?” - -“And why not?” asked Caleb. - -“Lawsy me, suh, ain’t yo’ gwine ter know w’at folks’ll say? Dere’s -gwine ter be a talkation.” - -“Very likely, poor little devil!” Caleb retorted grimly, “and your -tongue to help it, but you’d better hold it, Charity; you’re here to do -what I want--or to go elsewhere, see?” - -“Yass, suh,” she replied hastily, “I’se gwine ter do it, but I sure -wishes yo’d let me take de chile where he b’longs.” - -“Where he belongs?” Caleb turned sharply. - -“I ain’t sayin’,” cried Aunt Charity, thoroughly frightened, “I ain’t -saying--” Then she stopped with her mouth open, for she had seen the -figure in the outer room that Caleb did not see. - -Her look made him turn, however, to come face to face with Jacob Eaton. -He went out and closed the door on the inner office sharply, not -conscious that Aunt Charity promptly dropped on her knees and put her -eye to the keyhole. - -Meanwhile, the two men measured each other with peculiar enmity. Jacob -thrust his hands into his pockets and stood smiling, a smooth face but -not a pleasant one. - -“I came to see you on a matter of business,” he drawled, “but I’m -afraid I disturb you.” He had seen the scene in the inner room. - -Caleb’s height was greater than his, and he looked down at him with an -inscrutable face; his temper was quick, but he had the rare advantage -of not showing it. - -“I am quite at leisure,” he said coldly, without the slightest attempt -at courtesy. - -“I had the pleasure of reading your Cresset speech,” said Jacob -amusedly, “and I regret that I didn’t hear it. I congratulate you, it -was excellent reading.” - -Trench looked at him keenly. “You didn’t come here this morning to tell -me that,” he said. “Come, Mr. Eaton, what is it?” - -“No,” said Jacob, still smiling, “I didn’t come for that, you’re right. -I came to make a business proposition.” - -There was a pause, and Trench made no reply. Jacob began to find, -instead, that his silence was a peculiar and compelling weapon. - -“You have made me the butt of your speeches,” he continued, with his -first touch of anger, “and your attacks are chiefly aimed at the Land -Company of which I am the president. I suppose you are fully aware of -this?” - -Caleb smiled involuntarily. “I could not be unaware,” he observed. - -“Then, perhaps, you are not unaware of what I came for,” Jacob said. - -“Possibly,” replied Trench, folding his arms and leaning back against -the wall, and studying Eaton with a coolly indifferent scrutiny that -brought the color to Jacob’s face. - -“Ah, you have probably been expecting my visit?” he said; “in other -words, I suppose you’ve had an object in stirring up this excitement, -in directing this attack upon me.” - -“I have undoubtedly had an object,” Caleb Trench replied, after a -moment’s silence. - -Jacob’s smile was a sneer. “We’re business men, Mr. Trench,” he said; -“I’m here this morning to know the size of that object.” - -Caleb moved slightly, but his arms were still folded on his breast and -he still leant against the wall; his cool, unwinking gaze began to dash -Eaton’s composure; he could not be the finished and superior gentleman -he thought himself, under those relentless eyes. He shifted his own -position restlessly, drawing nearer to his adversary. - -“Come,” he said, “name your price.” - -“My what?” demanded Trench. - -“Your price,” Eaton sneered openly, his smooth face crimson. In -some way, to his own consciousness, he seemed to be shrinking into -insignificance before the other man’s strong personality, his force, -his coolness. - -“Do you suppose, because I have sold goods and handled merchandise, -that I am also on a level with my trade?” Caleb asked coolly, so coolly -that Jacob was blinded to his peril. - -“You are a trader,” said he bitingly, “a petty tradesman and a petty -politician; as such you have your price.” - -Caleb turned his face full toward him, and suddenly Eaton realized the -terrible light in his eyes. “You lie,” he said slowly, deliberately, -each word like a slap in the face; “you are a liar.” - -Jacob sprang at him, fury in his own face, and prudence gone. But as he -sprang Trench met him with a blow straight from the shoulder. It caught -Eaton fairly and sent him sprawling, full length on the floor. - -“By the Lord Harry, you got it, Jacob!” cried Judge Hollis from the -door, where he had appeared unheard. - -As Jacob rose foaming, Caleb saw Aaron Todd’s head behind the judge, -and after him Peter Mahan. - -There was no time to speak. Eaton flew at him again, his head down, -and for the second time Caleb landed him on his back. Then the judge -intervened. - -“That’s enough,” he said dryly. “I reckon he needed it, but he’s got -it. Get up, Jacob, and keep quiet.” - -But Jacob would not; he got up to his feet again and made a rush -forward, only to find himself clasped tight in Aaron Todd’s strong arms. - -“Be quiet,” said Todd, “you’ll go down again like a sack of salt, you -idiot! You’re too full of booze to risk a blow on your solar plexis.” - -Eaton swore. “Let me go,” he said, “do you think I’ll take it from that -fellow? You’re a prize-fighter!” he added between his teeth, lowering -at Trench, and wriggling helplessly in Aaron’s arms, “you’re a common -prize-fighter; if you were a gentleman you’d settle it with pistols!” - -“Tut, tut!” said the judge. - -“I will, if you like,” said Caleb coolly, his own wrath cooled by -victory. - -Jacob’s eyes flashed; he was a noted shot. “I’ll send some one to you -later,” he said, the perspiration standing out on his forehead, as he -wrenched himself from Todd’s arms. - -“I’ve a mind to report you both to Judge Ladd,” said Judge Hollis, but -his fiery old soul loved the smoke of battle. - -Jacob, panting and disheveled, reached for his hat. “It will be -to-morrow,” he said, “and with pistols--if you consent.” - -Caleb looked at Todd and Mahan. “Will you represent me, gentlemen?” he -asked quietly, something like a glint of humor in his eyes. - -Todd nodded, and Peter Mahan, a keen-visaged Irish Yankee, beamed. -To his soul a battle was the essence of life, and a duel was not -unreasonable west of the Mississippi. - -“Folly,” said Judge Hollis, secretly exultant, “rotten folly; let it -drop.” - -Jacob turned at the door, his face livid. “Not till I’ve sent him to -hell,” he said, and walked out. - -The judge brought his fist down on his knee. “By the Lord Harry,” he -said, “it was this day twenty-odd years ago that Yarnall shot Jacob’s -father.” - -“I shan’t shoot Jacob,” said Caleb dryly. - -Judge Hollis turned quickly. “What do you mean?” he began, but was -interrupted. - -The door between the rooms opened suddenly, after much restless but -unnoticed wriggling of the knob, and Sammy, in his plaid petticoat and -his brass-buttoned jacket, came in on wobbly legs. He stopped abruptly -and viewed the group, finger in mouth. - -“My God, what’s that?” exclaimed Judge Hollis blankly. - -Caleb laughed. “My ward,” he said, and then he looked up and met three -pairs of curious eyes. “It’s Jean Bartlett’s child,” he explained -simply; “she died last night, and Dr. Cheyney threatened the Foundling -Asylum, so I just brought the kid here; there’s room.” - -Judge Hollis leaned forward, both hands on his knees, and viewed the -child. “What did you do it for, Caleb?” he asked, in the midst of the -pause. - -“Heaven knows!” said Caleb, smiling, as he filled his pipe. “I fancy -because the poor little devil had no home, and I’ve known what it was -to want one.” - -The judge rubbed his chin. “I’m beat!” he said. - -The other two men looked on silently while Caleb lit his pipe. Sammy -picked up the judge’s cane from the floor and tried slowly and solemnly -to swallow the gold knob on the top of it. The judge sank slowly -back into his chair, the old worn leather chair. “And there’ll be a -duel to-morrow!” he remarked; then, looking at the child, he added -feelingly, “It beats the band!” - - - - -XV - - -THE time for the duel was an hour before sunrise the following day, and -to Caleb Trench, the Quaker, it was a gross absurdity. He had knocked -down Jacob Eaton as he would have knocked down any man who insulted -him, and he would have fought Jacob with his fists, but to shoot -him down in cold blood was another matter; not that Trench was over -merciful toward a man like Eaton, nor that he lacked the rancor, for an -insult lingers in the blood like slow poison. - -Eaton had selected two young men from the city, and the cartel had -been delivered with all the care and joy of an unusual entertainment. -To Aaron Todd, the farmer, it was a matter as ridiculous as it was to -Trench, though he could understand two men drawing their weapons on -each other in a moment of disagreement. But Peter Mahan loved it as -dearly as did Willis Broughton, a grand-nephew, by the way, of old -Judge Hollis. The place chosen was Little Neck Meadow, and the seconds -made their arrangements without any personal qualms. A fight, after -all, in that broad southwestern country was like the salt on a man’s -meat. - -Meanwhile the news that Caleb Trench had taken in Jean Bartlett’s -child dropped like a stone in a still pool, sending the ripples of -gossip eddying into wider circles until the edges of the puddle broke -in muddy waves, for no one had ever really known who was the father of -Jean’s boy. So, before Caleb rose at daybreak, to go to Little Neck -Meadow, his adoption of Sammy was as famous as his Cresset speech, and -as likely to bear unexpected fruits. - -Old Judge Hollis had remonstrated against both the child and the duel, -but not so warmly against the last as the first, and when he went away -there was a new look in his eyes. After all, what manner of man was -the shopkeeping lawyer of the Cross-Roads? The judge shook his head, -wondering; wondering, also, that he loved him, for he did. The power of -Caleb Trench lay deeper than the judge’s plummet, and, perhaps, it was -that which lent the sudden sweetness to his rare smile. - -But there was no smile on Caleb’s face when he went out, in the white -mist of the morning, to fight Jacob Eaton with pistols. He took the -woodland road on foot, alone, for he had sent his strangely assorted -seconds ahead of him. As he walked he was chiefly aware of the soft -beauty of the morning under the trees, and he caught the keen glint of -light on the slender stem of a silver birch that stood at the head of -the path, and he heard the chirp of a song-sparrow. A scarlet hooded -woodpecker was climbing the trunk of the tall hickory as he passed, and -a ground squirrel dashed across the trail. Caleb walked on, thinking -a little of the possibility of death, and a great deal of the gross -incongruity of his act with his life and his parentage. Through the -soft light he seemed to see his mother’s face, and the miracle of her -love touched him again. At heart he was simple, as all great natures -are, and tender; he could not have left Jean Bartlett’s child in the -woodbox. Yet he had no mind to show that side of his nature, for he was -shy in his feelings, and he had borne the hurt of solitude and neglect -long and in silence; silence is a habit, too, and bears fruit. - -He walked slowly, looking through the trees at the river which, now -before sunrise, was the color of lead, with a few ghostly lily-pads -floating at its edges. Beyond, he saw the high swamp grass that fringed -the edge of the delta; below lay Little Neck Meadow. The other thought -that haunted him, the picture of Diana in the old leather chair beside -his own hearthstone, with the kindling glow of the wood fire on her -face, he thrust resolutely aside. After all, he was nothing to Diana -but the petty tradesman of Eshcol, and now--if she knew--the intending -murderer of her kinsman. Yet it was Diana who walked before him along -the narrowing path. Thus do our emotions play us tricks to our undoing, -even in life’s most vital moments. - -But to the group waiting in the meadow, Caleb Trench appeared as -unmoved as stone. He was prompt to the moment and accepted their -arrangements without a question. - -Afterwards Aaron Todd told the story of the duel at the tavern. Eaton -and his seconds were in faultless attire and eager for the fray. At the -last moment Todd had sent for Dr. Cheyney; his early arrival meant an -explosion against dueling, and no one thought of waiting for him except -Peter Mahan. - -It ended in the two taking their places just as the whole eastern -sky ran into molten gold; it lacked but a few moments, therefore, of -sunrise, and there was still a light mist. - -Jacob Eaton, who was a noted shot, had been drinking the night before, -against the best efforts of his friends. Trench stood like a pillar of -stone. The word was given, and both men raised their weapons. Jacob -fired and missed, then Caleb very deliberately fired in the air. He had -never even glanced at his challenger. It was at this that Jacob Eaton -lost his temper and his wits and fired again, deliberately attempting -to shoot down his enemy. The bullet went through Caleb’s left arm, -missing his heart, and Willis Broughton threw himself upon Eaton and -disarmed him. - -When Dr. Cheyney came, Caleb had tied up his own arm with Todd’s help, -and was the calmest person there. Eaton was hustled off the field by -his seconds, and the story--told a hundred ways--was thrown into the -campaign. - -Old Dr. Cheyney drove Caleb home. “I reckon the fool killer wasn’t out -this morning,” he remarked dryly, as he set him down before the office -door, “or else he only winged you out of compassion. Caleb Trench, for -a man of common horse sense, you can be the biggest fool west of the -Mississippi. Adopted Sammy, I suppose?” he added, cocking an eyebrow -aggressively. - -Trench smiled. “Might as well,” he said. - -“Precisely,” said the doctor, “if you want anything more, let me know. -I’ve got one old rooster and a gobbler, that’s tough enough to be -Job’s. G’long, Henk!” - - - - -XVI - - -“I TELL you, David Royall, I can’t understand I how you ever let -that man come to your house,” Mrs. Eaton said; “a common man in the -first place, and now--why, there can’t be any doubt at all about Jean -Bartlett! Hasn’t he got the child?” - -Colonel Royall tilted his chair against the pillar of the veranda and -looked at her mildly. “That’s where the doubt comes in, Jinny,” he -remarked. - -“I can’t understand you!” she retorted tartly, dropping a stitch in her -crocheting and struggling blindly to pick it up. “I can’t in the least -understand your doubts--it’s obvious.” - -“Which?” said the colonel, “the doubt or Sammy?” - -“Both!” said she. - -“Well, Dr. Cheyney told me about it,” said the colonel, “and I’m not -sure that I believe all the other things I hear. Give him the benefit -of the doubt, Jinny.” - -“There isn’t any doubt,” declared Mrs. Eaton; “everybody says he’s the -father of that child.” - -Colonel Royall shook his head slowly. “It isn’t like the male critter, -Jinny,” he argued mildly, “to take in the child; he’d most likely ship -it.” - -“Some women do that!” said Mrs. Eaton sharply, shutting her thin lips. - -The colonel turned a terrible face upon her. “Jinny!” - -Mrs. Eaton reddened and her hands shook, but she went on without -regarding his anger. “At least, he’s the father of the Cresset -speech, you’ll admit that, and, if you please, here is this duel with -Jacob--with my son!” - -“I believe Jacob was the challenger,” said Colonel Royall. - -“He couldn’t stand being insulted by such trash!” said the indignant -mother. - -The colonel smiled broadly. “Come, Jinny, why did he go there?” - -“How should I know?” she retorted hotly; “some political reason, of -course, and Trench took advantage of it, as a common man would.” - -The colonel began to whittle a stick, man’s resource from time -immemorial. “Jinny,” he said, “you’re the greatest partisan on earth; -if you could lead a political party you’d cover your antagonist with -confusion. When I see Jacob beating his head against a wall I always -remember he’s your son.” - -Mrs. Eaton’s face relaxed a little. “Jacob takes after my family,” she -admitted, smiling; “he’s like them in looks and he has all their charm.” - -“Why don’t you say yours, Jinny?” asked the colonel, twinkling. - -“I don’t think you half appreciate that,” she replied, with a touch of -coquetry; “if you did, you wouldn’t quarrel with me about Caleb Trench.” - -“Do I?” said the colonel. - -She let her crochet work drop in her lap and looked at him attentively. -“Do you mean to say you agree with me?” she demanded. - -The colonel laughed. “I’m not a violent man, Jinny; since the war I’ve -been a man of peace. I’m not sure that I’ve got all the faith I ought -to have in these young iconoclasts.” - -“Faith in that man!” Mrs. Eaton threw up her hands. “If you had, David, -I wouldn’t have any in you!” - -“Your conversation has rather led me to assume that you had lost faith -in my opinions,” he retorted, amused. - -“Well, sometimes, Cousin David, I think you’re too willing to have -the wool combed over your eyes!” she said severely; “you’re so -broad-minded, I suppose, that you don’t think enough of the natural -prejudices of our own class.” - -“Well, Jinny,” said the colonel dryly, “I’m a little tired of our -class.” - -Mrs. Eaton raised her head to reply with indignation, but utterance was -suspended by Diana’s approach. Her appearance always had the effect of -breaking off a conversation in the middle. She was still a vision in -pink muslin, with a wide straw hat trimmed with roses. She swept out, -fresh and sweet and buoyant. - -“What are you two quarreling about?” she asked. “I can’t leave you -alone together any more; you fight like game cocks. Of course it’s -politics or social customs; you haven’t got to religion yet, thank -heaven! When you do I shall have to send for the bishop.” - -“It’s about that wretched man,” said Mrs. Eaton fretfully. “I told -David that he ought not to be received here!” - -“Well,” said the colonel thoughtfully, “I’m not sure he could be after -this fight with Jacob; blood’s thicker than water. But do you know, -Jinny, I don’t believe he’ll come?” - -“Come!” cried Mrs. Eaton; “dear me, do you imagine that a poor creature -like that would lose the chance?” - -Colonel Royall smiled whimsically. “Jinny,” said he, “your grandfather -made his money selling molasses in New Orleans.” - -She gazed at him coldly. “It was wholesale,” she said, with withering -contempt. - -The colonel shook with silent laughter. - -All this time Diana had not opened her lips; she stepped down from the -piazza into the grass now and unfurled her parasol. - -“I hope you’re not going to make my unfortunate grandfather a reason -for inviting Caleb Trench here,” said Mrs. Eaton bitingly, her eyes -fixed on the colonel’s flushed face. - -“Cousin Jinny, he won’t come,” said Diana suddenly. - -Both her father and Mrs. Eaton looked at her astonished. “How do you -know?” the latter asked unconvinced. - -“I asked him,” said Diana, and blushed. - -Mrs. Eaton was amazed. “You asked that man--that person--and he refused -your invitation?” - -“Yes,” replied Diana, scarlet now. - -Her elderly cousin dropped her hands helplessly in her lap. “Diana -Royall, I’m ashamed of you!” - -“I was ashamed of myself,” said Diana. - -The colonel rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. “I reckon he had -a reason, Di,” he said at last. - -“I have a reason for not asking him again,” replied his daughter. - -“Thank heaven!” ejaculated Mrs. Eaton devoutly. - -The girl turned away and walked slowly across the lawn. Two of the -setters followed her half-way, but, unencouraged, fell back lazily -to lie in the cool grass. As she went the murmur of indignant voices -died away, and she passed into the cool shadow of the horse-chestnuts. -Her face still burned with the blush of vexation that Mrs. Eaton had -summoned, and her heart beat a little faster at the thought that she -had never asked any man to accept their hospitality before in vain. -It was preposterous and rude, yet, in her heart, she respected Caleb -Trench for refusing it. Even at Kitty Broughton’s ball he had been -accepted only on tolerance and because of Judge Hollis. She had seen -him slighted, and then the prejudice had been against his poor little -shop at the village Cross-Roads and his black Republicanism, in a -section that was rankly Democratic. Now they had a greater cause, -the Cresset speech, the attacks upon Eaton, the duel at Little Neck -Meadow--of which no one could get the truth, for no one knew socially -Peter Mahan or Aaron Todd--and last of all the scandal of the child. -The story of poor Jean Bartlett had passed from lip to lip now that -Sammy played on the door-step of the most unique figure in local -politics. - -Gossips had promptly decided that Sammy was Caleb’s child, and Jean’s -had been a peculiarly sad case. The story lost nothing in transmission, -and Diana tried not to recall details as she walked. Why should she? -The man was nothing to her! Her father did not believe all he heard, -and neither did she, but she was more tormented than if she had -believed the worst. Certainty carries healing in its wings; doubt is -more cruel than a whip of scorpions. She had tried to understand the -man and she could not; one thing contradicted another, but he was -strong, his figure loomed above the others, and the storm was gathering -about it, as the clouds sweep around the loftiest peak. - -The hottest contest for years was brewing in the conventions, and it -was known--and well-known--that Caleb Trench had an immense influence -with the largest element of the party. He was convinced that Aylett’s -government was weak and permeated with corruption, and he was -making his conviction public, with a force and certainty that were -bewildering far older politicians. In fact, the man was no politician -at all; he was a born reformer, and he was making himself felt. - -Diana, too, had felt his force and resented it. She resented also his -duel with her cousin. The cheap sensationalism of a duel irritated her, -and she did not place the whole blame upon Jacob, for she knew--Aunt -Charity had spread it--that Caleb had knocked Jacob down. She was -ashamed that she almost tingled with joy at the thought of him towering -in wrath over Jacob, for she could divine the insulting tone that must -have provoked him beyond endurance. She could divine it, but she would -not accept it. Jacob was her own relation, and Jacob had been knocked -down. It was maddening from that point of view, and Diana felt that -nothing but blood could have atoned to her for being laid in the dust. -Yet she thrilled at the thought that Caleb Trench had dealt the blow, -that the son of the Philadelphia Quaker was a man. Thus contradictory -is the heart of woman! - -Meanwhile, she had left the confines of Broad Acres and was walking -slowly up the trail to Angel Pass. Not far away was the spot where -she had stood and talked with Caleb in the sweet twilight. Below her, -as the path climbed, was the long slope of rolling meadows which lay -between this spot and Paradise Ridge. Around her the tree trunks stood -in serried ranks, and here and there, where the wild grapevines hung -in long festoons, she noticed the tight clusters of green grapes. She -wished devoutly that she could think of something beside the slightly -awkward figure, the sharp lines of the clean-cut face, as it had looked -in the twilight. Since then they had met more than once, but it was -that picture of him which haunted her, and she was scarcely startled -when she turned the corner by the pines and saw him ahead of her with -Shot. - -He heard her footstep, and when she would have turned to avoid him, he -prevented it by facing about and greeting her. Both were conscious of -constraint. Jacob Eaton’s bullet had not broken the bone of his arm, -but the arm was still bandaged under the sleeve and stiff, and the fact -of the duel seemed to materialize between them. The other thought, -the thought of Jean Bartlett and her child, sprang up unbidden in her -heart, and she was woman enough to wince. A torrent of feeling swept -through her like a whirlpool, and she would not have told what it was, -or whence it came. Her face crimsoned, and unconsciously she drew back. -Something in his face, in the compelling light in his eyes, made her -catch her breath. On his side, he saw only reluctance and repulsion, -and mistook it for rebuke. He remembered that report said she was to -marry Jacob Eaton, and he had knocked Jacob Eaton down. He would have -been less than human had he not experienced then one instant of unholy -joy to think that he had done it. Neither spoke for a full moment, then -he did ceremoniously. - -“Pardon me,” he said, “I ought not to intrude upon you, Miss Royall. I -see that I am doubly unfortunate, both unexpected and unwelcome.” - -Diana struggled with herself. “Unexpected, certainly,” she said, -conscious that it was a falsehood, for had he not haunted her? “but -unwelcome--why? This is a public place, Mr. Trench.” - -He smiled bitterly. “Fairly answered,” he said; “you can be cruel, Miss -Royall. I am aware that to you--I merely cumber the earth.” - -“I believe you refused an invitation to come to our house,” she -retorted. - -He swung around in the path, facing her fully, and she felt his -determination, with almost a thrill of pride in him. - -“Miss Royall--I have no right to say a word,” he said, “but do you -think--for one instant--that if you gave that invitation sincerely I -would refuse it? You know I would not. I would come with all my heart. -But--because I know how absurd it is, because I know how you feel, I -will not. I am too proud to be your unwelcome guest. Yet I am not too -proud to speak to-night. God knows I wish I could kill it in my heart, -but I will say it. I love you.” - -Diana stretched her hand out involuntarily and rested it against the -slender stem of a young pine; she clung to it to feel reality, for the -world seemed to be turning around. She never opened her lips and she -dared not look at him; she had met that light in his eyes once and -dared not raise hers. If she had! But she did not--and he went on. - -“It is madness, I know it,” he said bitterly, “and if I could strangle -it--as a living thing--I would, but I cannot. I love you and have loved -you from the first. It would be mockery indeed to accept your chary -invitations. I suppose you think that it is an insult for me to speak -to you, but”--he smiled bitterly--“to myself I should seem a little -less than a man if I did not. However, I beg your pardon, if it seems -an affront.” - -Diana tried twice to speak before she could utter a word. Then she -seemed to hear her own voice quite calm. “I do not consider it so. I--I -am sorry.” - -He turned away. “Thank you,” he said abruptly, “I would like to be, at -least, your friend.” He added this with a reluctance that told of a -bitter struggle with his own pride. - -Diana held out her hand with a gesture as sweet as it was involuntary. -“You are,” she said, quite simply. “Mr. Trench, I--I take it as an -honor.” - -He held her hand, looking at her with an amazement that made her blush -deeply. She felt her emotion stifling her, tears were rushing to her -eyes. How dreadful it was for him to force her into this position. They -were as widely sundered as the poles, and yet she no sooner met his -eyes than she wavered and began to yield; she snatched her hand away. - -“Thank you a thousand times for saying that!” he murmured. - -She fled; she was half-way up the path; the sunshine and the breeze -swept down from Angel Pass. She was conscious of him still standing -there and turned and looked back. “Good-bye!” she called softly over -her shoulder, and was gone. - - - - -XVII - - -IT was in the heat of midsummer that Judge Hollis walked into Caleb’s -inner office. - -“Caleb,” he said, “I’m hanged if I haven’t changed the color of my coat -and come to your opinion. After this I’m for Yarnall.” - -Caleb smiled, leaning back wearily in his chair and glancing -unconsciously at Sammy, the innocent cause of much scandal in Eshcol, -who lay asleep beside Shot on the floor, his chubby arms around the -dog’s neck. - -The smoke of the two great conventions was still in the air. Two -weeks before the Republicans had peacefully and hopelessly nominated -Peter Mahan for Governor, and the Democrats, after a deadlock and a -disgraceful collapse of the opposition, had nominated Aylett. Every -politician in the State knew that it had cost the Eaton faction nearly -two hundred thousand dollars. There had been a storm of indignation, -and Yarnall had come back and put his case in the hands of the -Republican lawyer, Caleb Trench! The indignation and chagrin of the -older Democratic lawyers added nothing to the beauty of the situation, -but Caleb had grasped it silently and was dealing with it. In ten days -he had forced the Grand Jury to indict both Aylett and Eaton, along -with half a dozen of their lieutenants, and the hour of the great trial -was approaching. Feeling ran so high that there were threats on both -sides, and it was a common saying that men went armed. - -The judge banged his broad-brimmed Panama down on the table. “Caleb,” -he said grimly, “how much more packing is there to come out of this?” - -This time Trench laughed. “Not a great deal, Judge,” he replied easily, -“I’ve got most of it out. We’re going to prove both our cases against -Aylett and Eaton. Aylett’s used more money, but Eaton has intimidated. -The convention was packed. They threw in Eaton as a third candidate -to split Yarnall’s strength; they knew all the investors in his -get-rich-quick schemes would follow him, and they’d been warned to do -it. I’ve got the evidence. Of course, when Yarnall got them deadlocked, -even with that break in his strength, Eaton withdrew and, throwing all -his votes suddenly to Aylett, nominated him on the fifth ballot.” - -The judge scowled at him from under his heavy brows. “What’s this about -the Todd test case?” he growled. - -“Aaron Todd got hold of one of the delegates and found out that he’d -been offered a bribe by Eaton. Todd suggested to him to take it and get -the matter witnessed; it was done and will be used in court.” - -“Damned shabby!” said the judge. - -Caleb smiled. “I call it a harder name, Judge,” he said simply. “I -shan’t use it, but, after all, I’m only the junior counsel.” - -The old man looked at him over his spectacles. “I understand that -Yarnall has picked you out as a kind of red flag to the bull, and means -to wave you in Eaton’s face.” - -“So he does, I fancy,” said Trench, “but we’re going to call Judge -Hollis.” - -The judge stared; a dull red crept up to his hair. He had felt the -slight when Caleb was chosen, and he suspected that the younger man -knew it. Yet the temptation to be in the thick of the fray was like the -taste of fine wine in the mouth of the thirsty. “By gum, sir,” he said, -“I don’t believe I’ll do it.” - -“Yes, you will,” said Trench decisively, “we need you. Besides, Mr. -Yarnall has written a formal request to you: we want influential men on -our side. We’ve got a clear case, but we want the people to understand -that we’re not demagogues. And”--Trench suddenly used all his -persuasive powers, which were great--“Judge, I lack your experience.” - -It was a touch of modesty that went to the judge’s heart. He took -Diana’s chair--Caleb always called it that in his heart--and they fell -to discussing the situation and the most salient points in the case, -for it had divided the State and it would affect the election of the -United States Senator later. - -Meanwhile, Sammy slept, with his yellow curls mingling with Shot’s -yellow hair; they were boon companions and no one troubled the child. -Once or twice Zeb Bartlett had come, bent on making trouble, but he -had been sent away. Sammy found his new home wholly desirable; Aunt -Charity was even growing fond of him, and Dr. Cheyney brought him toys. -But between Caleb and himself there was a complete understanding; -the child followed him about as patiently as did Shot, and as -unquestioningly. In some mysterious way he had grasped the meaning of -his adoption, and he understood the silent, preoccupied man as well -as the dog did. With both it was an instinct that recognized kindness -and protection. Left to amuse himself from babyhood, Sammy made little -trouble. He would lie on his stomach by the hour working a toy train of -cars to and fro in one spot, and he had destroyed only one brief which -had been left within his reach. - -Judge Hollis talked for over an hour, going over the case which was -to come up before Judge Ladd in ten days. He saw that Trench had -prepared every inch of it, and that he was chiefly wanted as a notable -figurehead, yet he was nothing loath to be the figurehead. When he -had fully grasped the evidence, and saw before him one of the biggest -cases on record in the State courts, he threw back his head like an old -war-horse snuffing the battle afar. - -“By the Lord Harry!” he said, slapping his knee, “we’ll whip them -to kingdom come, Caleb, and shear the sheep at that!” Then his eye -suddenly lighted on the sleeping child, and his shaggy brows dropped; -he stooped over and looked at him, thrusting out his underlip. -“Caleb,” he said, “send that brat to St. Vincent’s.” - -Caleb, who was making notes, looked up. “Why?” he asked dryly. - -The judge growled. “You’re a tarnation fool!” he replied. “I’m not -asking whose child he is! What I say is--send him packing.” - -Caleb turned and glanced at the child, and the judge, watching him, was -astonished at the softening of his face. “Poor little devil,” he said -quietly, “I fancy he’ll stay as long as I do, Judge Hollis. I’ve had no -home, I’ve been in desperate straits, now I’ve got this roof. That dog -was a stray, so is the child--they’re welcome.” - -The judge was silent for a long while. Then he drew a pattern on the -floor with his cane. “Caleb,” he said, more kindly, “that kid has -raised Cain for you. Jinny Eaton is blowing the news to the four -winds of heaven, and everybody believes it. You might as well hang an -albatross around your neck. If you’re not the child’s father--by gum, -sir, you might as well be!” - -Caleb set his teeth hard, and the light came into his eyes,--the light -that some people dreaded. “Judge,” he said sternly, “I’m accountable -to no man, neither am I a coward. Mrs. Eaton may say what she pleases; -being a woman, she is beyond my reach.” - -The judge got up and drove his hat down hard on his head with his -favorite gesture, as though he put the lid on to suppress the -impending explosion. “By gum!” he said, and walked out. - -That evening Caleb found Sammy asleep in the old leather armchair with -his yellow head on the arm, and he snatched him out of it, in spite of -Sammy’s vigorous protests, and put him to bed. He never thought that -Diana’s arms might have held the child as pitifully, for Diana had a -noble heart. - -Then followed the greatest case of disputed nomination ever contested -west of the Mississippi. The old court-house was packed to its limit, -and there were one or two hardy spirits who climbed the tree outside -and listened through the open windows. Feeling ran so high when Aaron -Todd testified that there was a column of militia in Townhouse Square. -It was hot; they were cutting oats in the fields and the rye was nearly -ripe, while all the grapes were coloring like new wine. - -Aylett and Eaton fought step by step, inch by inch, and the court sat -from early morning until candle-light, yet it was three weeks before it -went to the jury, and they had been twenty-nine days getting that jury! - -Two brilliant lawyers from the East spoke for the defense, and Judge -Hollis opened for the plaintiff. It was afternoon; the judge had made -an able if somewhat grandiloquent plea, and the court-house was so -thronged that men stood on the window-sills, shutting out the view -from the trees. Caleb Trench closed the case for Yarnall, and men, -remembering his Cresset speech, had refused to leave the court-room -for dinner, fearful of losing their seats--or their standing room. -Eaton alone left abruptly when he began to speak. - -Trench had a peculiarly rich voice, low-toned but singularly clear; he -used no gestures, and his attitudes were always easy and unembarrassed -when he forgot himself in his work. His personality counted, but it was -neither that nor his eloquence which held the court-room spellbound; -it was the force of his logic, the power to get down to the root of -things, to tear away all illusions and show them the machine as it had -existed for nearly twenty years. Incidentally, as it seemed to some, -he showed them, beyond all doubt, the fraud and intimidation that had -renominated Governor Aylett. - -The lights were burning in the court-room and outside in the square -when Judge Ladd charged the jury. Not a man left his place as the -jurors filed out, except Trench. He went to send a message to Aunt -Charity about his two waifs at home, who must not go supperless. He -was still out, and Judge Hollis sent for him hastily when the jury -came back in twenty minutes. They brought in a verdict of guilty -as indicted; the illegal use of money, corruption in office, and -intimidation were the charges against Aylett and Eaton and ten others. - -At half-past nine that night the militia had to charge in the -court-house square to disperse the crowd. - - - - -XVIII - - -COLONEL ROYALL and Diana drove into town in the morning; it was a long -drive from Eshcol, and the road led past Paradise Ridge. Diana, from -her side of the carriage, noticed the little cabin where Jean Bartlett -had died, and saw the shambling figure of Zeb leaning against the -door-post. Zeb was talking to a well-dressed man whose back was toward -her. A low-growing horse-chestnut partly hid his figure, but afterwards -she remembered a curious familiarity about it. At the time her heart -was bitter. She had heard nothing but Mrs. Eaton’s version of the -scandal of Paradise Ridge for a month, and once, when she drove past -the Cross-Roads, she had seen Sammy’s chubby figure sprawling under the -trees beside Caleb Trench’s office. - -If he were the child’s father, he had certainly taken up the burden -squarely. Diana pushed all thought of it out of her mind by main -force, yet two hours later it would come back. She remembered, too, -that meeting on the trail, and her heart quaked. In some mysterious, -unfathomable way the man loomed up before her and mastered her will; -she could not cast him out, and she stormed against him and against -herself. Outwardly she was listening to Colonel Royall. At heart, too, -she was deeply concerned about her father; the colonel was failing, he -had been failing ever since spring set in. All her life Diana had felt -that, in spite of their devotion to each other, there was a door shut -between them, she had never had his full confidence. Yet, she could not -tell how she knew this, what delicate intuition revealed the fact of -his reticence. She had twice asked Dr. Cheyney what secret trouble her -father had, and the old man had looked guilty, even when he denied all -knowledge. Diana felt the presence of grief, and she had assumed that -it was especially poignant at the season when he kept the anniversary -of his wife’s death. Yet, lately, she wondered that he had never taken -her to her mother’s grave. Mrs. Royall had died when Diana was three -years old, and was buried in Virginia. More than this Diana had never -known, but she did know that her room at Broad Acres had been locked -the day of her death and that no one ever went there except her father -and the old negro woman who kept it spotless and “just as Miss Letty -left it.” - -Neither Colonel Royall nor old Judy ever vouchsafed any explanation -of this room, its quaintly beautiful furniture and the apparently -unchanging spotlessness of the muslin curtains and the white valance -of the mahogany four-poster. Once, when she was a child, Diana had -crept in there and hidden under the bed, but hearing the key turn in -the lock when old Judy left the room, her small heart had quaked -with fear and she had remained crouching in a corner, still under the -bed, not daring to look out lest she should indeed see a beautiful -and ghostly lady seated at the polished toilet-table, or hear her -step upon the floor. She stayed there three hours, then terror and -loneliness prevailed and she fancied she did hear something; it was, -perhaps, the rustle of wings, for she had been told that angels had -wings, and if her mamma were dead she was, of course, an angel. The -rustle, therefore, of imaginary wings was more than Diana could bear, -and she lifted up her voice and wept. They had been searching the house -for her, and it was her father who drew her out from under the bed -and carried her, weeping, to the nursery. Then he spoke briefly but -terribly to the mammy in charge, and Diana never crept under the white -valance again. - -She remembered that scene to-day as the carriage drove on under the -tall shade trees, and she remembered that Colonel Royall had never -looked so ill at this time of the year since the time when he was -stricken with fever in midsummer, when she was barely fifteen. Then he -had been out of his head for three days and she had heard him call some -one “Letty!” and then cry out: “God forgive me--there is the child!” He -had been eighteen months recovering, and she saw presages of illness -in his face; his eyes were resting sadly and absently, too, on the -familiar landscape. Diana winced, again conscious of the shut door. It -is hard to wait on at the threshold of the heart we love. - -They were crossing the bridge when a long silence was broken. Below -them some negroes were chanting in a flatboat, and their voices were -beautiful. - - “Away down South in de fields of cotton, - Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom, - Look away, look away, - Look away, look away!” - -“Pa,” said Diana suddenly, “do you believe in the verdict?” - -The colonel took off his hat and pushed back his thick white hair. “I -reckon I’ve got to, Di,” he replied reluctantly. - -“Then you think Jacob is a bully and a fraud,” said Diana, with the -unsparing frankness of youth. - -“Heaven forbid!” said the colonel gently. - -“I thought you wanted me to marry him,” she pursued, victory in her eye. - -The colonel reddened. “Diana,” he said, “I don’t want you to marry -anybody.” - -She smiled. “Thank you,” she said; “after all, the verdict has done -some good in this State, Colonel Royall.” - -They were at the court-house door now, and there was a crowd in the -square. The colonel got down and helped out Diana, and they walked into -the arched entrance of the basement together. “I didn’t want to leave -you out there to be stared at by that mob,” said the colonel; “people -seem to know us at a glance.” - -Diana laughed softly. “Of course no one would remember you,” she said -maliciously; “they’re looking at my new hat.” - -“I reckon they are,” said her father dryly; “we’ll have to find a place -to hide it in.” - -As he spoke they passed the last doorkeeper, and walked down the -stone-paved corridor toward the elevator. It was absolutely still. On -the left hand was a small room with one large window looking out into -the court where a tree of heaven was growing. It had sprung from a seed -and no one had cut it down. The window was barred, but the cool air -of the court came in, for the sash was open. It was a room that they -called “the cage,” because prisoners waited there to be summoned to the -court-room to hear the verdict, but Colonel Royall did not know this. -There were a narrow lounge in it, two chairs and a table. - -“Wait here,” he said to Diana, “I shan’t be ten minutes. I want to see -Judge Ladd, and I know where he is up-stairs. Court has adjourned for -luncheon, and you won’t be disturbed.” - -Diana went in obediently and sat down in the chair by the window. She -could see nothing but the court enclosed on four sides by the old brick -building, and shaded in the centre by the slender tree of heaven. There -was no possible view of the street from this room. Opposite the door -was the blank wall of the hall; on the other side of that wall were -the rooms of the Registrar of Wills and the Probate Court. Outside the -door a spiral iron staircase ascended to the offices of the State’s -attorney; around the corner was the elevator and to this Colonel Royall -went. - -Diana leaned back in her chair and surveyed the chill little room; -on the walls were written various reflections of waiting prisoners. -None were as eloquent as Sir Walter Raleigh’s message to the world, -but several meant the same thing in less heroic English. The colonel -had been gone ten minutes, and his daughter was watching the branches -of the tree as they stirred slightly, as if touched by some tremulous -breath, for no wind could reach them here. - -It was then that she heard a quick step in the corridor and knew -it intuitively. She was not surprised when Caleb Trench stopped -involuntarily at the door. They had scarcely met in two months, but the -color rushed into her face; she seemed to see him again in the spring -woods, though now the hedgerows were showing goldenrod. Involuntarily, -too, she rose and they stood facing each other. She tried to speak -naturally, but nothing but a platitude came to her lips. - -“I congratulate you,” she said foolishly, “on your victory.” - -“Miss Royall, I am sorry that everything I do seems like a personal -attack upon your people,” he replied at once, and he had never appeared -to better advantage; “like the spiteful revenge of a foolish duellist, -a sensational politician. Will you do me the justice to believe that my -position is painful?” - -Diana looked at him and hated herself because her breath came so short; -was she afraid of him? Perish the thought! “I always try to be just,” -she began with dignity, and then finished lamely, “of course we are a -prejudiced people at Eshcol.” - -“You are like people everywhere,” he replied; “we all have our -prejudices. I wish mine were less. There is one thing I would like to -say to you, Miss Royall--” He stopped abruptly, and raised his head. -Their eyes met, and Diana knew that he was thinking of Jean Bartlett; -she turned crimson. - -There was a long silence. - -“I shall not say it,” he said, and his strong face saddened. What right -had he to thrust his confidence upon her? “You are waiting for your -father?” he added; “may I not escort you to another room? This--is -not suitable.” He wanted to add that he was amazed at the colonel -for leaving her there; he did not yet fully understand the old man’s -simplicity. - -“I prefer to stay here,” Diana replied, a little coldly; “my father -knows I am here.” - -It was Caleb’s turn to color. “I beg your pardon.” He stopped again, -and then turned and looked out of the window. “I fear I have lost even -your friendship now,” he said bitterly. - -She did not reply at once; she was trying to discipline herself, and in -the pause both heard the great clock in the tower strike one. - -“On the contrary, I thank you for offering to find me a pleasanter -place to wait in,” Diana said, with an effort at lightness. “It is a -little dreary, but I’m sure my father must be coming and--” - -She stopped with a little cry of surprise, for there was suddenly the -sharp sound of a pistol shot, followed instantly by a second. The -reports came from the other side of the hall, and were followed by a -tumult in the street. - -“What can it be?” she cried, in sudden terror for her father. - -Caleb Trench swung around from the window with an awakening of every -sense that made him seem a tremendous vital force. He divined a -tragedy. Afterwards the girl remembered his face and was amazed at the -fact that she had obeyed him like a child. - -“Wait here!” he exclaimed, “your father is safe. I will see what it is. -On no account leave this room now--promise me!” - -She faltered. “I promise,” she said, and he was gone. - -It seemed five minutes; it was in reality only ten seconds since the -shots were fired. Meanwhile, there was a tumult without, the shouting -of men and the rush of many feet. Diana stood still, trembling, her -hands clasped tightly together. Even afar off the voice of the mob is a -fearsome thing. - - - - -XIX - - -MEANWHILE Colonel Royall and Judge Ladd had been in consultation in the -judge’s private office, behind the court-room. - -Governor Aylett and Jacob Eaton had definitely decided to appeal the -case, and a slight discrepancy in the stenographer’s notes had made -it necessary for Colonel Royall to review a part of his testimony. -Having disposed of these technicalities, the colonel found it difficult -to depart. He and Judge Ladd had been boys together; they met -infrequently, and the present situation was interesting. - -The colonel stood with his thumbs inserted in the armholes of his -marseilles waistcoat, his hat on the back of his head, and a placid -smile on his lips. The judge sat at his table, smoking a huge cigar -and meditating. In his heart he rather resented the rapid rise of the -unknown young lawyer; he had worked his own way up inch by inch, and he -had no confidence in meteoric performances, and said so. - -“Well,” said the colonel slowly, “I reckon I’d better not say anything, -Tommy, I’m on the wrong side of the fence; I’m Jacob’s cousin, though I -feel like his grandfather.” - -The judge knocked the ashes from his cigar and said nothing. It was not -in his province to discuss the defendant just then. - -“I’d give something handsome,” the colonel continued, “to know how in -mischief Trench got such a hold on the backwoodsmen. Todd follows him -about like a lapdog, too, yet he doesn’t hesitate to condemn Todd’s -methods of getting evidence.” - -The judge grunted. “Heard about personal magnetism, haven’t you?” he -asked tartly; “that’s what he’s got. I sat up there on the bench and -listened when he began to address the jury. I’ve heard hundreds do it; -I know the ropes. Well, sir, he took me in; I thought he was going to -fall flat. He began as cool and slow and prosy as the worst old drone -we’ve got; then he went on. By George, David, I was spellbound. I clean -forgot where I was; I sat and gaped like a ninny! He cut right through -their evidence; he knocked their witnesses out one by one; he tore -their logic to pieces, and then he closed. There wasn’t a shred of ’em -left. I charged the jury? Yes, hang it! But I knew what the verdict -would be, so did every man-jack in the court-room.” - -“Remarkable!” exclaimed the colonel. “I admit it, Tommy; I was there.” - -“Then why the devil didn’t you say so?” snapped the judge. - -“Thought you saw me; I was in the front row,” replied the colonel, with -a broad smile. - -“See you?” retorted the judge fiercely, “see you? I didn’t see a -damned thing but that young shyster, and before he got through I could -have hugged him, yes, sir, hugged him for making that speech.” - -The colonel shook with laughter. “Tommy,” he began. - -But just then there were two sharp reports of a pistol near at hand, -followed by a tumult in the street below. Both men hurried to the -window, but the jutting wing of the court-room hid the center of -interest, and all they could see was the crowd of human beings huddled -and packed in the narrow entrance of the alley that led to the Criminal -Court-room. There were confused cries and shoutings, and almost -immediately the gong of the emergency ambulance. - -“Some one’s been shot,” said Judge Ladd coolly; then he turned from the -window and halted with his finger on the bell. - -The door from the court-room had opened abruptly and Judge Hollis came -in. Both Ladd and Colonel Royall faced him in some anxiety; there was -an electric current of excitement in the air. - -“Yarnall has been shot dead,” he said briefly. - -“My God!” exclaimed Judge Ladd. - -Colonel Royall said nothing, but turned white. - -“Have they got the assassin?” the judge demanded, recovering his -self-control. - -“No,” replied Judge Hollis, a singular expression on his face. “No, the -shot was fired from the window of the court-room; the room was empty, -everybody at dinner, and the windows open; the pistol is on the floor, -two chambers empty. Only one man was seen in the window, a negro, and -he has escaped.” - -“A negro?” the judge’s brows came down, “no, no!” Then he stopped -abruptly, and added, after a moment, “Was he recognized?” - -“They say it was Juniper,” said Judge Hollis stolidly. - -“Wild nonsense!” exclaimed Colonel Royall. - -Hollis nodded. His hat was planted firmly on his head and he stood like -a rock. “Nevertheless, there’s wild talk of lynching. Ladd, I think -we’d better get the lieutenant-governor to call out the militia.” - -The storm in the street below rose and fell, like a hurricane catching -its breath. Colonel Royall looked out of the window; the crowd in the -alley had overflowed into the square, and swollen there to overflow -again in living rivulets into every side street. He looked down on a -living seething mass of human beings. The sunlight was vivid white; the -heat seemed to palpitate in the square; low guttural cries came up. The -names of Yarnall and Eaton caught his ear. He remembered suddenly the -significance of Judge Hollis’ glance at him, and he did not need to -remember the blood feud. Suddenly he saw the crowd give way a little -before a file of mounted police, but it closed again sullenly, gathered -the little group of officers into its bosom and waited. - -The old man had seen many a fierce fight, he had a scar that he had -received at the Battle of the Wilderness, he had a gunshot wound at -Gettysburg, but he felt that here was the grimmest of all revelations, -the slipping of the leash, the wild thing escaping from its cage, the -mob! The low fierce hum of anger came up and filled their ears, he -heard the voices behind him, the rushing feet of incoming messengers, -the news of the lieutenant-governor’s call for the militia. Then he -suddenly remembered Diana, and plunged abruptly down-stairs. - -She had been waiting all this while alone in the lower room, yet, -before the colonel got there, Caleb Trench came back. He had just told -her what had happened when her father appeared. - -“My dear child,” said the colonel, “I clean forgot you!” - -Diana was very pale, but she smiled. “I know it,” she said, glancing -at Caleb. “Once father got excited at the races at Lexington and when -some one asked him his name, he couldn’t remember it. He paid a darkey -a quarter to go and ask Judge Hollis who he was! Colonel Royall, I must -go home.” - -“So you must,” agreed the colonel, “but, my dear, the crowd is--er--is -rather noisy.” - -“It’s a riot, isn’t it?” asked Diana, listening. - -They heard, even then, the voice of it shake the still hot air. Then, -quite suddenly, a bugle sounded sweetly, clearly. - -“The militia,” said the colonel, in a tone of relief. “I reckon we can -go home now.” - -“You can go by the back way,” said Caleb quietly; “stay here a moment -and I’ll see that some one gets your carriage through the inner gate. -The troops will drive the mob out of the square.” - -He had started to leave the room when Colonel Royall spoke. “Is--is -Yarnall really quite dead?” - -“Killed instantly,” said Caleb, and went out. - -Diana covered her face with her hands; she had been braving it out -before him. “Oh, pa!” she cried, “how dreadful! I was almost frightened -to death and--and I always thought I was brave.” - -“You are,” said the colonel fondly; “I was a brute to forget -you--but--well, Diana, it was tremendously shocking.” - -Diana’s face grew whiter. “Pa,” she said suddenly, “where--where is -Jacob?” - -The colonel understood. “God knows!” he said, “but, Diana, he wasn’t in -the court-room!” - -“Oh, thank God!” she said. - -It was then that Caleb came back, and she noticed how pale he looked -and how worn, for the long weeks of preparation for the trial and the -final ordeal had worn him to the bone. “The carriage is waiting,” he -said simply, and made a movement, slight but definite, toward Diana. -But she had taken her father’s arm. The colonel thanked the younger man -heartily, yet his manner did not exactly convey an invitation. Caleb -stood aside, therefore, to let them pass. At the door, Diana stopped -her father with a slight pressure on his arm, and held out her hand. - -“Good-bye,” she said quietly, “and thank you.” - -Caleb watched them disappear down the corridor to the rear entrance -where two policemen were on guard. Then he went out, bareheaded, on the -front steps and glanced over the heads of the troopers sitting like -statues on their horses in front of the court-house. Yarnall’s body -had been carried in on a stretcher, and a detachment of the governor’s -guard filled the main entrance. Beyond the long files of soldiers the -streets were packed with men and women and even children. No one was -speaking now, no sounds were heard; there was, instead, a fearful -pause, a silence that seemed to Trench more dreadful than tumult. -He stood an instant looking at the scene, strangely touched by it, -strangely moved, too, at the thought of the strong man who had been -laid low and whose life was snapped at one flash, one single missile. -Death stood there in the open court. - -Then some one cried out shrilly that there was Caleb Trench, the -counsel for Yarnall, the dead man’s victorious defender, and at the cry -a cheer went up, deep-throated, fierce, a signal for riot. The silence -was gone; the crowd broke, rushed forward, hurled itself against the -line of fixed bayonets, crying for the assassin. - -A bugle sounded again. There was a long wavering flash of steel, as the -troopers charged amid cries and threats and flying missiles. A moment -of pandemonium and again the masses fell away and the cordon of steel -closed in about the square. - -At the first sound of his name Caleb Trench had gone back into the -court-house. On the main staircase he saw Governor Aylett, Jacob Eaton -and a group of lawyers and officers of the militia. He passed them -silently and went up-stairs. Outside the court-room door was a guard of -police. The door of Judge Ladd’s inner office was open and he saw that -it was crowded with attorneys and officials. Judge Hollis came out and -laid his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. - -“My boy,” he said, “this is the worst day’s work that has ever been -done here, and they want to lay it on a poor nigger.” - -“I know,” replied Caleb, “he was the only one seen at the window.” - -“Yes,” assented Judge Hollis, “but, by the Lord Harry, I’d give -something handsome to know--who was behind Juniper!” - - - - -XX - - -IT was almost morning when Caleb Trench reached home, and the low -building where he had his office--he had closed his shop a month -before--was dark and cheerless. - -The news of the shooting of Yarnall, and the subsequent rioting, had -traveled and multiplied like a reed blown upon the winds of heaven. -Aunt Charity had heard it and forgotten her charge. Shot was on guard -before the dead ashes in the kitchen stove, and Sammy lay asleep in -his little bed in the adjoining room. Fortunately the child seemed to -have slept through the hours that had elapsed since the old woman’s -departure. Caleb found some cold supper set out for him, in a cheerless -fashion, and shared it with Shot, strangely beset, all the while, with -the thought of the charm and comfort of Broad Acres, as it had been -revealed to him in his infrequent visits. - -Diana’s presence in the basement of the court-house had changed his day -for him, and he recalled every expression of her charming face, the -swift shyness of her glance, when his own must have been too eloquent, -and every gesture and movement during their interview. At the same -time he reflected that nothing could have been more unusual than her -presence there in the prisoner’s cage, as it was called, and he was -aware of a feeling of relief that no one had found them there together -at a time when his smallest action was likely to be a matter of common -public interest. - -But predominant, even over these thoughts, was the new aspect of -affairs. Yarnall was dead, and as a factor in the gubernatorial fight -he was personally removed, but his tragic death was likely to be as -potent as his presence. He had already proved to the satisfaction of -one jury that his defeat in the convention was due solely to Aylett’s -fraud and to Eaton’s hatred, and it was improbable that, even in a -violently partisan community, justice should not be done at last. -Besides, the frightful manner of his taking off called aloud for -expiation. The tumult at the court-house testified to the passions -that were stirred; the old feud between the Eatons and the Yarnalls -awoke, and men remembered, and related, how Yarnall’s father had -shot Jacob Eaton’s father. A shiver of apprehension ran through the -herded humanity in squares and alleys; superstition stirred. Was this -the requital? The old doctrine, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a -tooth,--how it still appeals to the savage in men’s blood. The crowd -pressed in around the court-house where Yarnall’s body lay in state, -and outside, in a stiff cordon, stood sentries; the setting sun flashed -upon their bayonets as the long tense day wore to its close. - -In the court-house Caleb Trench had worked tediously through the -evening with Judge Ladd and Judge Hollis. A thousand matters came up, -a thousand details had to be disposed of, and when he returned home at -midnight he was too exhausted physically and mentally to grapple long -with a problem at once tiresome and apparently insoluble. He dispatched -his supper, therefore, and putting out the light went to his own room. -But, before he could undress, Shot uttered a sharp warning bark, and -Caleb went back to the kitchen carrying a light, for the dog was -perfectly trained and not given to false alarms. - -His master found him with his nose to the crack of the outer door, -and the slow but friendly movement of his tail that announced an -acquaintance. At the same time there was a low knock at the door. - -“Who is there?” Caleb demanded, setting his light on the table and, at -the same time, preparing to unfasten the lock. - -“Fo’ de Lawd, Marse Trench, let me in!” cried a muffled voice from the -outside, and, as Caleb opened the door, Juniper nearly fell across the -room. - -“Shet de doah, massa,” he cried, “lock it; dey’s after me!” - -It was intensely dark, being just about half an hour before dawn, and -the scent of morning was in the air. It seemed to Caleb, as he glanced -out, that the darkness had a softly dense effect, almost as if it -actually had a substance; he could not see ten yards from the threshold -and the silence was ominous. He shut the door and locked it and drew -down the shade over the kitchen window; afterwards he remembered this -and wondered if it were some impulse of secretiveness that prompted a -movement that he had not considered. - -Meanwhile Juniper had fallen together in a miserable huddled heap -by the stove. His head was buried in his arms and he was sobbing in -terror, long-drawn shivering sobs that seemed to tear his very heart -out. Trench stood looking at him, knowing fully what suspicions were -against the black, and the terrible threats that had filled the town, -seething as it was with excitement and a natural hatred of the race. -That Juniper had plotted Yarnall’s death was an absurdity to Trench’s -mind; that he might have been the tool of another was barely possible. -On the other hand, his chances of justice from the mob were too small -to be considered. His very presence under any man’s roof was a danger -as poignant as pestilence. This last thought, however, had no weight -with Caleb Trench. The stray dog guarded his hearth, the nameless child -lay asleep in the next room, and now the hunted negro cowered before -him. It was characteristic of the man that the personal side of it, the -interpretation that might be put upon his conduct, never entered his -calculations. Instead, he looked long and sternly at the negro. - -“Juniper,” he said, “you were the only person seen in the window of the -court-house before the assassination of Mr. Yarnall. Were you alone -there?” - -Juniper cowered lower in his seat. “Fo’ de Lawd, Marse Trench, I can’t -tell you!” he sobbed. - -“Who was in the room with you?” asked Trench sharply. - -“I can’t tell!” the negro whimpered; “I don’ know.” - -“Yes, you do,” said Caleb, “and you will be forced to tell it in court. -Probably, before you go to court, if the people catch you,” he added -cold-bloodedly. - -Juniper fell on his knees; it seemed as if his face had turned lead -color instead of brown, and his teeth chattered. “Dey’s gwine ter lynch -me!” he sobbed, “an’ fo’ de Lawd, massa, I ain’t done it!” - -Caleb looked at him unmoved. “If you know who did it, and do not tell, -you are what they call in law an accessory after the fact, and you can -be punished.” - -Juniper shook from head to foot. “Marse Caleb,” he said, with sudden -solemnity, “de Lawd made us both, de white an’ de black, I ain’t gwine -ter b’lieb dat He’ll ferget me bekase I’se black! I ain’t murdered no -one.” - -Caleb regarded him in silence; the force and eloquence of Juniper’s -simple plea carried its own conviction. Yet, he knew that the negro -could name the murderer and was afraid to. There was a tense moment, -then far off a sound, awful in the darkness of early morning,--the -swift galloping of horses on the hard highroad. - -“Dey’s comin’,” said Juniper in a dry whisper, his lips twisting; -“dey’s comin’ ter kill me--de Lawd hab mercy on my soul!” - -Nearer drew the sound of horses’ feet, nearer the swift and awful -death. Caleb Trench blew out his light; through the window crevices -showed faint gray streaks. Shot was standing up now, growling. Caleb -sent him into the room with little Sammy, and shut the door on them. -Then he took the almost senseless negro by the collar and dragged him -to the stairs. - -“Go up!” he ordered sternly; “go to the attic and drag up the ladder -after you.” - -Juniper clung to him. “Save me!” he sobbed, “I ain’t dun it; I ain’t -murdered him!” - -“Go!” ordered Caleb sharply. - -Already there was a summons at his door, and he heard the trample of -the horses. Juniper went crawling up the stairs and disappeared into -the darkness above. Caleb went to his desk and took down the telephone -receiver, got a reply and sent a brief message; then he quietly put -his pistol in his pocket and went deliberately to the front door and -threw it open. As he did it some one cut the telephone connection, -but it was too late. In the brief interval since he had admitted the -fugitive, day had dawned in the far East, and the first light seemed to -touch the world with the whiteness of wood ashes; even the cottonwoods -showed weirdly across the road. All around the house were mounted men, -and nearly every man wore a black mask. The sight was gruesome, but it -stirred something like wrath in Caleb’s heart; how many men were here -to murder one poor frightened creature, with the intellect of a child -and the soul of a savage! - -Caleb’s large figure seemed to fill the door, as he stood with folded -arms and looked out into the gray morning, unmoved as he would look -some day into the Valley of the Shadow. Of physical cowardice he knew -nothing, of moral weakness still less; he had the heroic obstinacy of -an isolated soul. It cost him nothing to be courageous, because he had -never known fear. Unconsciously, he was a born fighter; the scent of -battle was breath to his nostrils. He looked over the masked faces with -kindling eyes; here and there he recognized a man and named him, to the -mask’s infinite dismay. - -“Your visit is a little early, gentlemen,” he said quietly, “but I am -at home.” - -“Look here, Trench, we want that nigger!” they yelled back. - -“You mean Juniper?” said Caleb coolly. “Well, you won’t get him from -me.” - -“We know he’s about here!” was the angry retort, “and we’ll have him, -d’ye hear?” - -“I hear,” said Caleb, slipping his hand into his pocket. “You can -search the woods; there are about three miles of them behind me, -besides the highroad to Paradise Ridge.” - -“We’re going to search your house,” replied the leader; “that’s what -we’re going to do.” - -“Are you?” said Caleb, in his usual tone, his eyes traveling over -their heads, through the ghostly outlines of the cottonwoods, past the -tallest pine to the brightening eastern sky. - -Something in his aspect, something which is always present in supreme -courage,--that impalpable but strenuous thing which quells the hearts -of men before a leader,--quenched their fury. - -“Look here, Caleb Trench, you were Yarnall’s lawyer; you ain’t in the -damned Eaton mess. Where’s that Eaton nigger?” - -Caleb’s hand closed on the handle of his revolver in his pocket. -“Gentlemen,” he said quietly, “I happen to know that the negro, -Juniper, did not shoot Mr. Yarnall, and if I know where he is now I -will not tell you.” - -“By God, you shall!” yelled the nearest rioter, swinging forward with -uplifted fist. - -He swung almost on the muzzle of Caleb’s revolver. - -“One step farther and you’re a dead man,” Trench said. - -The would-be lyncher lurched backward. In the white light of dawn -Caleb’s gaunt figure loomed, his stern face showed its harshest lines, -and there was fire in his eyes. A stone flew and struck him a little -below the shoulder, another rattled on the shingles beside the door; -there was a low ominous roar from the mob; right and left men were -dismounting, and horses plunged and neighed. - -“Give up that damned nigger or die yourself!” was the cry, taken up and -echoed. - -Within the house Shot began to bark furiously, and there was suddenly -the shrill crying of a child. - -“Jean Bartlett!” some one shouted. - -“Ay, let’s hang him, too--for her sake!” - -There were cheers and hisses. Caleb neither moved nor shut the door. - -“Give us that nigger!” they howled, crowding up. - -By a miracle, as it seemed, he had kept them about three yards from -the entrance in a semicircle, and here they thronged now. From the -first they had surrounded the house, and the possibility of an entrance -being forced in the rear flashed upon Caleb. But he counted a little -on the curiosity that kept them hanging on his movements, watching the -leaders. He saw at a glance that there was no real organization, that -a motley crowd had fallen in with the one popular idea of lynching the -negro offender, and that a breath of real fear would dissolve them like -the mists which were rolling along the river bottoms. - -“Where’s that nigger?” came the cry again, and then: “It’s time you -remembered Jean Bartlett!” - -One of the leaders, a big man whom Caleb failed to recognize, was still -mounted. He rose in his stirrups. “Hell!” he said, “he’s got the child; -if he hadn’t, I’d burn him out.” - -“Gentlemen,” said Caleb coolly, raising his hand to command attention, -“I will give the child to your leader’s care if you wish to fire my -house. I do not want to be protected by the boy, nor by any false -impression that I am expiating an offense against Jean Bartlett.” - -There was a moment of silence again, then a solitary cheer amid a storm -of hisses. A tumult of shoutings and blasphemies drowned all coherent -speech. Men struggled forward and stopped speechless, staring at the -unmoved figure in the door, and the grim muzzle of his six-shooter. -It was full day now, and murder and riot by daylight are tremendous -things; they make the soul of the coward quake. There were men here and -there in the crowd who shivered, and some never forgot it until their -dying day. - -“Give us the nigger!” - -Caleb made no reply; his finger was on the trigger. There was a wild -shout and, as they broke and rushed, Caleb fired. One man went down, -another fell back, the mob closed in, pandemonium reigned. Then there -was a warning cry from the rear, the clear note of a bugle, the thunder -of more horses’ hoofs, the flash of bayonets, and a file of troopers -charged down the long lane; there was a volley, a flash of fire and -smoke. Men mounted and rode for life, and others fell beneath the -clubbed bayonets into the trampled dust. - -In the doorway Caleb Trench stood, white and disheveled, with blood on -his forehead, but still unharmed. - - - - -XXI - - -COLONEL ROYALL was reading an extra edition of the morning paper; it -contained a full account of the attempted lynching, and the timely -arrival of the militia. The colonel was smoking a big cigar and the -lines of his face were more placid than they had been for a week, -but his brow clouded a little as he looked down the broad driveway -and saw Jacob Eaton approaching. Jacob, of late, had been somewhat -in the nature of a stormy petrel. Nor did the colonel feel unlimited -confidence in the younger man’s judgment; he was beginning to feel -uneasy about certain large transactions which he had trusted to Jacob’s -management. - -The situation, however, was uppermost in the colonel’s mind? He dropped -the paper across his knee and knocked the ashes out of his cigar. -Jacob’s smooth good looks had never been more apparent and he was -dressed with his usual elaborate care. Nothing could have sat on him -more lightly than the recent verdict, and the fact that he was out on -bail. Colonel Royall, who was mortified by it, looked at him with a -feeling of exasperation. - -“Been in town?” he asked, after the exchange of greetings, as Jacob -ascended the piazza steps. - -“All the morning,” he replied, sitting down on the low balustrade and -regarding the colonel from under heavy eyelids. - -“How is it? Quiet?” The colonel was always sneakingly conscious of a -despicable feeling of panic when Jacob regarded him with that drooping -but stony stare. - -“Militia is still out,” said Jacob calmly, “and if the disturbances -continue the governor threatens to call on Colonel Ross for a company -of regulars.” - -“He’s nervous,” commented the colonel reflectively. “I don’t wonder. -How in the mischief did Aylett happen to be near Yarnall?” - -Jacob looked pensive. “I don’t know,” he said; “I was in the rear -corridor by the State’s Attorney’s room. They say Aylett was crossing -the quadrangle just in front of Yarnall.” - -The colonel smoked for a few moments in silence, then he took his cigar -from between his teeth. “What were you doing in the corridor?” he asked -pointedly. - -Jacob took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. “I was going to -Colonel Coad’s office, and I was the first to try to locate the shots -outside the court-house.” - -“I was in Judge Ladd’s room,” said Colonel Royall deliberately, “and I -reckon that was as near as I want to be. I see by this”--he touched the -paper with his finger--“that Caleb Trench induced Juniper to surrender -to the authorities, and he says that he’s sure he can prove the negro’s -innocence.” - -Jacob laughed, showing his teeth unpleasantly. “Probably he can,” he -remarked; “he’s under arrest himself.” - -The colonel swung around in his chair. “Caleb Trench? What for?” - -“For the assassination of Yarnall.” - -“By gum!” said the colonel in honest wrath, “what rotten nonsense!” - -Jacob said nothing; he continued to smoke his cigarette. - -The colonel slapped the paper down on his knee. “When men’s blood is -heated, they run wild,” he said. “Why, Trench was Yarnall’s counsel; -he’d won the case for him--he--” - -“Just so,” replied Jacob coolly; “you forget that Aylett had insulted -Trench twice in court, that he despised him as heartily as I do and -that Aylett was almost beside Yarnall!” - -The colonel pushed his hat back on his head and thought. He knew that -Eaton hated Trench, but his mind did not embrace the enormity of a -hatred that could revel in such an accusation. “The charge then must be -that he meant to hit Aylett,” he said, after a long moment, “and that -makes him take big risks. These Yankees aren’t good shots, half of ’em.” - -Jacob laughed unpleasantly. “Well, I reckon he wasn’t,” he remarked, -and as his thoughts went back to a certain gray morning in Little Neck -Meadow, his face reddened. - -The colonel wriggled uncomfortably in his chair. “What did he want to -shoot Aylett for?” he demanded. - -“You’ve forgotten, I suppose, that Aylett called him a liar twice in -court,” said Jacob dryly. - -“He didn’t shoot you for a greater provocation,” retorted the colonel -bluntly. - -“He was the only man found in the court-room with the smoking -weapon,” said Jacob. “Juniper ran away, and he’s been protecting -Juniper,--buying him off from testifying, I reckon.” - -“I can’t understand why either he or Juniper was in the court-room,” -declared the colonel, frowning. - -“Had good reason to be,” replied Jacob tartly, tossing his cigarette -over the rail. - -“See here, Jacob,” said the colonel solemnly, “I’m an old man and your -relation, and I feel free to give you advice. You keep your oar out of -it.” - -Jacob laughed. “I’ve got to testify,” he drawled. - -“Good Lord!” exclaimed the colonel. - -Then followed several moments of intense silence. - -“Where’s Diana?” asked the young man at last, rising and flipping some -ashes off his coat. - -“In the flower garden,” replied her father thoughtfully, “she’s seeing -to some plants for winter; I reckon she won’t want you around.” - -Jacob looked more agreeable. “I think I’ll go all the same,” he said, -strolling away. - -The colonel leaned forward in his chair and called after him. “Jacob, -how about these stocks? I wanted to sell out at eight and three -quarter cents.” - -Eaton paused reluctantly, his hands in his pockets. “You can next -week,” he said; “the market’s slumped this. You’d better let me handle -that deal right through, Cousin David.” - -“You’ve been doing it straight along,” said the colonel. “I reckon I’d -better wake up and remember that I used to know something. I’m equal to -strong meats yet, Jacob, and you’ve been putting me on pap.” - -“Oh, it’s all right!” said Jacob. “I’ll sell the shares out for you,” -and he departed. - -The colonel sat watching him. The old thought that he would probably -marry Diana no longer had any attractions for him; he had lost -confidence in Jacob’s sleek complacence, and the recent testimony in -court had shaken it still more. Besides, he had a fine pride of family, -and the verdict against Jacob had irritated and mortified him. Nothing -was too good for Diana, and the fact that there was the shadow of a -great sorrow upon her made her even dearer to her father. He had never -thought that she had more than a passing fancy for Jacob, and lately he -had suspected that she disliked him. The colonel ruminated, strumming -on the piazza balustrade with absent fingers. Before him the long slope -of the lawn was still as green as summer, but the horse-chestnut burs -were open and the glossy nuts fell with every light breeze. Across the -road a single gum tree waved a branch of flame. - -He was still sitting there when Kingdom-Come brought out a mint julep -and arranged it on the table at his elbow. - -The colonel glanced up, conscious that the negro lingered. “What’s the -matter, King?” he asked good-humoredly. - -“News from town, suh,” the black replied, flicking some dust off the -table with his napkin. “Dey’s tried ter storm de jail, suh. De militia -charged, an’ deyer’s been right smart shootin’.” - -Colonel Royall looked out apprehensively over the slope to the south -which showed in the distance the spires and roofs of the city. A blue -fog of smoke hung low over it and the horizon beyond had the haze of -autumn. “Bad news,” said he, shaking his head. - -“It suttinly am, suh,” agreed Kingdom-Come, “an’ dey do say dat Aunt -Charity ez gwine ter leave Juniper now fo’ sho.” - -“She’s left him at intervals for forty years,” said the colonel, -tasting his julep; “I reckon he can stand it, King.” - -The negro grinned. “I reckon so, suh,” he assented. “Juniper dun said -once dat he’d gib her her fare ef she’d go by rail an’ stay away!” - -Just then Miss Kitty Broughton stopped her pony cart at the gate and -came across the lawn. The colonel rose ceremoniously and greeted her, -hat in hand. - -“Where’s Diana?” Kitty asked eagerly. - -“In the rose garden with Jacob, my dear,” said the colonel. - -Kitty made a grimace. “_Noblesse oblige_,” she said; “I suppose I must -stay here. Colonel, isn’t it all dreadful? Grandfather can’t keep -from swearing, he isn’t respectable, and Aunt Sally has Sammy.” Kitty -blushed suddenly. “I took Shot, the dog, you know; they won’t let Mr. -Trench have bail.” - -“It’s the most inexplicable thing I know of,” said the colonel, -stroking his white moustache. “Why Caleb Trench should shoot his own -client--” - -Kitty stared. “Why, Colonel, you know, don’t you, that the arrest was -made on Jacob Eaton’s affidavit?” - -Colonel Royall leaned back in his chair, and Kitty found his expression -inexplicable. “How long have you known this?” he asked. - -“Since morning,” said Kitty promptly. “Grandpa told us; he’s furious, -but he says it’s a good case. It seems Mr. Eaton saw Mr. Trench first -in the court-room. The two shots were fired, you know, in quick -succession. Juniper was seen by some one at the window just before; no -one saw who fired the shots, but Mr. Eaton met Caleb Trench leaving -the room. No one else was there, and Mr. Trench says that Juniper did -not fire the shots. Juniper is half dead with fright, and in the jail -hospital; he went out of his head this morning when the mob tried to -rush the jail. It’s awful; they say six people were killed and three -wounded.” - -“Caleb Trench wounded two last night,” said the colonel. He had the air -of a man in a dream. - -“They won’t die,” replied Kitty, cold-bloodedly, “and it’s a good thing -to stop these lynchers. Wasn’t Mr. Trench grand? I’m dying to go and -see him and tell him how I admired the account of him facing the mob. -What does Di think?” - -“She hasn’t said,” replied the colonel, suddenly remembering that -Diana’s silence was unusual. He looked apprehensively toward the rose -garden and saw the flutter of a white dress through an opening in the -box hedge. “Kitty,” he added abruptly, “you go over there and see Diana -and ask her yourself.” - -“While Mr. Eaton’s there?” Kitty giggled. “I couldn’t, Colonel Royall; -he’d hate me.” - -The colonel looked reflectively at the young girl sitting in the big -chair opposite. She was very pretty and her smile was charming. “I -don’t think he’d hate you, my dear,” he remarked dryly, “and I know -Diana wants to see you.” - -Kitty hesitated. “I don’t like to interrupt,” she demurred. - -“You won’t,” said the colonel, a little viciously. - -Kitty rose and descended the steps to the lawn, nothing loath; then -she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Mr. Trench will be tried -immediately,” she said; “the Grand Jury indicted him this morning.” - -The colonel’s frown of perplexity deepened. “I call it indecent haste,” -he said. - -“Grandpa is to defend him,” said Kitty, “and we’re proud of him. I -think Caleb Trench is a real hero, Colonel Royall.” - -The colonel sighed. “I wish Jacob was,” he thought, but he did not -speak. - - - - -XXII - - -JUDGE HOLLIS was writing in his office. He had been writing five hours -and the green shade of his lamp was awry, while his briar-wood had just -gone out for the ninety-ninth time. Some one knocked twice on the outer -door before he noticed it. Then he shouted: “Come in!” - -After some fumbling with the lock the door opened, and Zeb Bartlett’s -shambling figure lurched into the room. He came in boldly, but cowered -as he met the judge’s fierce expression. The old man swung around in -his chair and faced him, his great overhanging brows drawn together -over glowing eyes, and his lip thrust out. - -The boy was stricken speechless, and stood hat in hand, feebly rubbing -the back of his head. The judge, who hated interruption and loathed -incompetence, scowled. “What d’ye want here?” he demanded. - -Zeb wet his parched lips with his tongue. “I want the law on him,” he -mumbled; “I want the law on him!” - -“What in thunder are you mumbling about?” demanded the old man -impatiently; “some one stole your wits?” - -“It was him did my sister wrong,” Zeb said, his tongue loosed between -fear and hate; “it’s him, and I want him punished--now they’ve got him!” - -Judge Hollis threw the pen that he had been holding suspended into the -ink-well. “See here, Zeb,” he said, “if you can tell us who ruined your -poor crazed sister, why, by the Lord Harry, I’d like to punish him!” - -Zeb looked cunning; he edged nearer to the desk. “I can tell you,” he -said, “I can tell you right cl’ar off, but--I want him punished!” - -“May be the worst we can do is to make him take care of the child,” -said Judge Hollis. - -“That won’t do,” said Zeb, “that ain’t enough; he left her to starve, -and me to starve--she tole me who it was!” - -Judge Hollis was not without curiosity, but he restrained it manfully. -He even took his paper-cutter and folded the paper before him in little -plaits. “Zeb,” he said, “it’s a rotten business, but the girl’s dead -and Caleb Trench has taken the child and--” - -“It’s him, curse him, it’s him!” Zeb cried, shaking his fist. - -Judge Hollis dropped the paper-cutter and rose from his chair, his -great figure, in the long dark blue coat, towering. - -“How dare you say that?” he demanded, “you cur--you skunk!” - -But Zeb was ugly; he set his teeth, and his crazy eyes flashed. “I tell -you it’s him,” he cried; “ain’t I said she tole me?” - -“Damn you, I don’t believe you,” the judge shouted; “it’s money you -want, money!” He grabbed the shaking boy by the nape of the neck, as -a dog takes a rat, and shook him. “You clear out,” he raged, “and you -keep your damned lying, dirty tongue still!” and flung him out and -locked the door. - -Then, panting slightly, he went back to his seat, swung it to his -desk again, rolled back his cuffs and wiped the perspiration from his -forehead. Then he pulled his pen out of the ink-well and shook the -surplus ink over the floor and began to write; he wrote two pages -and dropped his pen. His head sank, his big shoulders bowed over, -he was lost in thought. He thought there for an hour, while nothing -stirred except the mouse that was gnawing his old law-books and had -persistently evaded Miss Sarah’s vigilance. Then the judge brought -his great fist down on his desk, and the ink-well danced, and the pen -rolled off. - -“My God!” he exclaimed to himself, “I’ve loved him like a son, the girl -was treated like hell--it can’t be true!” - -He rose, jammed his hat down on his head and walked out; he walked the -streets for hours. - -It was very late when he was admitted to the old jail. It was past time -to admit visitors, but the judge was a privileged person. The warden -gave up his private room to him and sent for the prisoner. The lamp -burnt low on the desk, and the old judge sat before it, heavy with -thought. He looked up mechanically when Caleb came in with his quick -firm step and faced him. The two greeted each other without words, and -Caleb sat down, waiting. He knew his visitor had something on his mind. - -Judge Hollis looked at him, studying him, studying the clear-cut lines, -the hollowed cheeks, the clear gray eyes, the chiseled lips,--not a -handsome face, but one of power. The sordid wretchedness of the story, -like a foul weed springing up to choke a useful plant, struck him again -with force and disgust. - -“I’ve just seen Zeb Bartlett,” he said; “he’s raving to punish the -man who wronged his sister. He says you did it!” The old man glared -fiercely at the young one. - -Caleb’s expression was slightly weary, distinctly disappointed: he -had hoped for something of importance. The story of Jean Bartlett was -utterly unimportant in his life. “I know it,” he said briefly; “it is -easy to accuse, more difficult to prove the truth.” - -The judge leaned forward, his clasped hands hanging between his knees, -his head lowered. “Caleb,” he said, “maybe it’s not right to ask you, -but, between man and man, I’d like to know God’s truth.” - -Caleb Trench returned the old man’s look calmly. “Judge,” he said, -“have you ever known me to steal?” - -The judge shook his head. - -“Or to lie?” - -Again the judge dissented. - -“Then why do you accuse me in your heart of wronging a half-witted -girl?” he asked coldly. - -The judge rose from his chair and walked twice across the room; then -he stopped in front of the younger man. “Caleb,” he said, “by the Lord -Harry, I’m plumb ashamed to ask you to forgive me.” - -Caleb smiled a little sadly. “Judge,” he said, “there’s nothing to -forgive. Without your friendship I should have been a lost man. I -understand. Slander has a hundred tongues.” - -“Zeb Bartlett is shouting the accusation to the four winds of heaven, I -presume,” said the judge, “and there’s the child--you--” - -“I’ve taken him,” said Caleb, “and I mean to keep him. I’ve known -poverty, I’ve known homelessness, I’ve known slander; the kid has got -to face it all, and he won’t do it without one friend.” - -The judge looked at him a long time, then he went over and clapped his -hand down on his shoulder. “By the Lord Harry!” he said, “you’re a man, -and I respect you. Let them talk--to the devil!” - -“Amen!” said Caleb Trench. - - - - -XXIII - - -WHEN the case of the Commonwealth versus Caleb Trench was called, it -was found necessary to convene the court in the old criminal court-room -in the northeast corner of the quadrangle. The room from which Yarnall -had been shot, known as Criminal Court Number One, was too open to -the square, and too conveniently located as a storm center. The old -court-room facing northeast was smaller, and so poorly lighted that -dull mornings it was necessary to burn lights on the judge’s desk and -at the recorder’s table. It opened on the inner court, and the only -thing seen from the window was the tree of heaven, which was turning a -dingy yellow and dropping its frond-like leaves into the court below. -During half the trial Aaron Todd’s son and another youngster sat in -this tree and peered in the windows, the room being too crowded for -admittance; but when Miss Royall testified even the windows were so -stuffed with humanity that the two in the tree saw nothing, and roosted -in disappointment. - -In the quadrangle before the court-house, and in a hollow square around -it, were the troops, through the whole trial, and after a while one -got used to the rattle of their guns as they changed at noon. Men -fought for places in the court-room, and the whole left-hand side was -packed solid with young and pretty women. The figure of Caleb Trench, -since his famous Cresset speech, had loomed large on the horizon, and -the account of the frustrated lynching added a thrilling touch of -romance. Besides, Jacob Eaton was to testify against him, and that -alone would have drawn an audience. The thrill of danger, the clash -of the sentry’s rifle in the quadrangle, the constant dread of riots, -added a piquancy to the situation that was like a dash of fine old -wine in a _ragout_. The room was packed to suffocation, and reporters -for distant newspapers crowded the reporters’ table, for the case was -likely to be of national interest. The doors and the corridors were -thronged, and a long line waited admission on the staircase. Some -failed to get in the first or the second day, and being desperate -stayed all night outside, and so were admitted on the third day. - -Judge Hollis had charge of the defense, and it was expected that he -would ask a change of venue, but he did not. Instead he tried to get a -jury, using all his privileges to challenge. It was almost impossible -to get an unbiased juror and, at the end of a week, he had exhausted -two panels and was on another. On the fifteenth day he got a jury -and the public drew breath. Judge Ladd was on the bench,--a fair but -choleric man, and known to be rather unfavorable to the prisoner. -Bail had been absolutely refused, and Caleb Trench shared the fate of -the other prisoners in the jail, except, indeed, that he was doubly -watched, for the tide of men’s passions rose and fell. He had been -almost a popular idol; he was, therefore, doubly likely to be a popular -victim, and Aylett went far and wide declaring that he believed the -shot was intended for him, and that Yarnall had suddenly passed between -him and the window at the fateful moment. - -On the other hand Jacob Eaton spoke freely of Jean Bartlett and her -child. The scandal traveled like a fire in prairie grass, and Jean, -who had been in life the Shameful Thing of Paradise Ridge, became -now a persecuted martyr, and Trench the monster who had ruined her -life. The fact that he had taken the child, instead of being in his -favor, recoiled strongly against him. He was watched as he sat in the -prisoners’ dock, and every expression of his stern and homely face was -noted; the slight awkwardness of his tall figure seemed more visible, -and men were even startled by his eyes. It may be added that the women -found them most interesting, especially when that sudden light flashed -into them that had cowed so many of the weaker brethren. Like all -strong, blunt men, Caleb had made his enemies, and now, in the hour of -his need, they multiplied like flies. Misfortune breeds such insects as -readily as swamplands breed mosquitoes. - -“I’d be ashamed to say I knew that shyster,” one of the Eaton faction -said in the crowded court-room at noon recess, and Dr. Cheyney heard -him. - -The old man snorted. “I’m almighty glad he don’t know you,” he said -dryly. - -The next day they began to take testimony. Juniper, the one person who -had been in the court-room at the time of the assassination, could not -be called at once, as he was still in the hospital, but he had made -a deposition that he did not know who fired the shots, that his back -was turned and that when he heard the reports he ran. This impossible -statement could not be shaken even by threats. Later, he would go -on the stand, but Judge Hollis had given up hope of the truth; he -believed, at heart, that Juniper was crazed with fright. Had he been -hired to fire the shots? The judge could not believe it, for he felt -tolerably certain that Juniper would have hit nothing. - -The general belief outside, however, was that Caleb had used his -opportunity well and threatened or bribed the negro into making -his remarkable affidavit. In fact, Caleb was himself profoundly -puzzled, yet the testimony of Eaton, given clearly and apparently -dispassionately, was damaging. He had been in Colonel Coad’s office, -he was coming along the upper corridor, heard the shots and ran to the -court-room, reaching the door immediately before Sergeant O’More of -the police; both men met Caleb Trench coming out of the room, and on -the floor, by the window, was the revolver. No one else was in sight. -Juniper’s flight had been made at the first shot, and seven minutes -only had elapsed before any one could reach the court-room. Caleb -Trench had been seen to enter the building at twenty-five minutes to -one o’clock, and his time up to the assassination was unaccounted for. -He said that he had been in the basement of the building, but his -statement did not give any legitimate reason for the length of time -between his entrance and his appearance in the court-room. It took, -in reality, just two minutes to reach the court-room from the lower -door by the staircase. Trench made no explanation of the use of that -twenty-five minutes, even to his counsel. Judge Hollis stormed and grew -angry, but Caleb pointed out the fact that the pistol was not his, and -he could prove it; this made the judge’s language absolutely profane. -The obstinacy of the prisoner resulted in a distinct collapse at that -point in the trial; it was evident that the time must be accounted for, -since the circumstantial evidence was strong. - -The public prosecutor, Colonel Coad, was pressing in, scoring point -by point, and Judge Hollis fought and sparred and gave way, inwardly -swearing because he had to do so. Meanwhile, the prisoner was serene; -he took notes and tried to help his counsel, but he showed no signs -of trepidation and he would not admit any use for that time in the -basement of the court-house. Judge Hollis could not, therefore, put him -on the stand on his own behalf, and the old man grew purple with wrath. - -“Look here, Mr. Trench,” he said, with bitter formality, “what damned -crotchet have you got in your head? What fool thing were you doing? -Working a penny-in-the-slot machine in the basement? Out with it, or I -walk out of this case.” - -“And leave me to the tender mercies of my enemies,” said Caleb quietly; -“no, Judge, not yet! I can’t see my way clear to tell you.” - -“Then I’m darned if I see mine to defend you!” snapped the judge. - -They were in the prisoner’s cell at the jail, and Caleb got up and -went to the little barred window which overlooked the dreary courtyard -where the prisoners were exercising. After a moment, when he seemed -to mechanically count the blades of grass between the flagstones, he -turned. The judge was watching him, his hat on like a snuffer, as -usual, and his hands in pockets. - -“Judge Hollis,” said Caleb quietly, “if I told you where I was, another -witness would have to be called, and neither you nor I would wish to -call that witness.” - -The judge looked at him steadily; Caleb returned the look as steadily, -and there was a heavy silence. - -“By the Lord Harry!” said the judge at last, “I believe you’d let ’em -hang you rather than give in a hair’s breadth.” - -Then Caleb smiled his rare sweet smile. - -The second long week of the trial wore to its close, and the web of -circumstantial evidence was clinging fast about the prisoner. Witnesses -had testified to his character and against it. The name of Jean -Bartlett ran around the court, and some men testified to a belief that -Caleb was the father of the child he had befriended. Judge Hollis did -not attempt to have the testimony ruled out; he let it go in, sitting -back with folded arms and a grim smile. He cross-examined Jacob Eaton -twice, but made nothing of it. Jacob was an excellent witness, and -he showed no passion, even when witnesses described the duel and his -conduct to show his motive in attacking Trench. - -Sunday night Judge Hollis received a telephone message from Colonel -Royall, and, after his early supper, the judge ordered around his -rockaway and drove over, with Lysander beside him to hold the reins. -He found Mrs. Eaton in the drawing-room with Diana, and was coldly -received by Jacob’s mother; she resented any attempt to line up forces -against her son, and she regarded the defender of Caleb Trench as an -enemy to society. The judge bowed before her grimly. - -“I thought you were in the city, madam,” he remarked. - -Mrs. Eaton threw up her hands. “With that mob loose, and the soldiers? -My dear Judge! I wouldn’t stay for a million, and I’m a poor woman. -Good gracious, think of it! It’s just as I’ve always said,--you go on -letting in the shiploads of anarchists and we’ll all be murdered in our -beds.” - -“Madam,” said the judge grimly, “the only thing I ever let in is the -cat. Sarah and the niggers look after the front door.” - -Mrs. Eaton raised her eyebrows. “I can’t understand you,” she said, -with distant politeness; “I refer to immigration.” - -“And I refer to immoderation, madam,” snapped the judge. - -Diana intervened. “Pa wants you,” she said sweetly, and went with him -across the hall to the library. At the door she paused. “Judge Hollis,” -she said, “does the trial hinge on the question of the time in the -basement--before--before Mr. Trench went up-stairs?” - -The judge scowled. “It does,” said he flatly, “and Caleb’s a fool.” - -Diana smiled faintly; she looked unusually lovely and very grave. -“Judge,” she said, “no matter what pa says, I’ll do it all; he’s -demurred,” and with this enigmatical sentence she thrust the judge -inside the door and closed it. - -Monday the court met at noon and the throng was greater than ever. -Report had it that the case was going to the jury, and men had slept -on benches in the square. The morning papers reprinted Caleb’s famous -speech at Cresset’s and the account of the stand he had made in the -face of the would-be lynching party. Fed with this fuel, party feeling -ran high; besides, the Yarnall faction was deeply stirred. It seemed as -if this change in events had swept away the chance of punishment for -Jacob Eaton, who was figuring largely and conspicuously in this trial -and who had caught the public eye. Moreover, he had been industrious -in circulating the scandalous tale of Jean Bartlett. The court-room -buzzed. Three times Judge Ladd rapped for order and finally threatened -to clear the court-room. This was the day that the crowd in the windows -shut off all view for those in the tree of heaven. It was a hot autumn -day and the air was heavy. Stout men like Judge Hollis looked purple, -and even Caleb flushed under the strain. - -Colonel Coad cross-examined two witnesses in a lengthy fashion that -threatened to exhaust even the patience of the court, and Judge Hollis -was on his feet every few minutes with objections. The judge was out -of temper, nervous and snappy, yet triumph glowed in his eyes, for he -scented battle and victory at last. - -The dreary day wore to an uneventful end, and there was almost a sob of -disappointment in the packed and sweltering mass of humanity. One woman -fainted and the bailiffs had to bring ice-water. Outside, the rifles -rattled as the guards changed. - -At five o’clock, just before the belated adjournment hour, Judge Hollis -rose and asked the clerk to call a new witness for the defense. There -was a languid stir of interest, the judge looked irate, the jurors -shifted wearily in their chairs. The clerk called the witness. - -“Diana Royall.” - -The sensation was immense; the court-room hummed, the weariest juror -turned and looked down the crowded room. Very slowly a way was made -to the witness-stand, and a tall slight figure in white, with a broad -straw hat and a light veil, came quietly forward. - -Caleb Trench turned deadly white. - -In a stillness so intense that every man seemed to hear only his own -heart beat, the clerk administered the oath and the new witness went on -the stand. - - - - -XXIV - - -JUDGE HOLLIS, standing before the witness-stand, looked at Diana with -fatherly eyes; his manner lost its brusqueness and became that of the -old-fashioned gentleman of gallantry. Diana herself looked across the -court-room with a composure and dignity of pose that became her. Every -eye was riveted upon her. For days the papers had reeked with the -story of Jean Bartlett and her child, yet here--on the stand for the -prisoner--was one of the first young ladies in the State. - -Judge Hollis had been taking notes, and he closed his notebook on his -finger and took off his gold-rimmed spectacles. - -“Where were you on the afternoon of Tuesday, August eighteenth, about -one o’clock, Miss Diana?” - -Diana answered at once, and in a clear low voice. “In this building, -Judge, in a small room on the lower floor.” - -“A small room on the lower floor? Let us see, Miss Diana,”--the judge -tapped his book with his spectacles,--“the room to the right, was it, -at the end of the west corridor?” - -Diana explained the position of the room and the vicinity of the -staircase. - -“Ah,” said the old lawyer, with the air of having made a discovery, -“to be sure; it’s the room we call ‘the cage’--on the basement floor. -Rather a dreary place to wait, Miss Diana: how long were you there?” - -“I am not sure,” she replied, coloring suddenly, “but certainly an -hour. It was a little after twelve when we reached the building, and I -heard the clock strike one just before the shots were fired.” - -“Ah! You heard the shots?” - -“I did.” - -“How many did you hear, Miss Diana?” the judge asked in his easiest, -most conversational tone. - -“Two, Judge, two reports in quick succession.” - -“And you heard only two?” his tone was sharp, incisive; it cut like a -knife. - -Diana threw him a startled glance, but she was still composed, though -the breathless silence in the room was deeply affecting. - -“I heard but two,” she said firmly. - -“How soon after one o’clock?” he demanded, his bony forefinger -following her testimony, as it seemed, across the cover of the book he -held. - -“The clock in the hall had just struck.” Diana was holding every -instinct, every thought, in hand. Her eyes never left his rugged face, -yet, all the while, she was conscious of the court-room, growing dim -in the early twilight, of the rows of upturned eager faces, but more -conscious still of the pale face of Caleb Trench. - -Judge Hollis made some notes, then he looked up suddenly. “Miss -Royall,” he said formally, “do you know the prisoner at the bar?” - -Diana drew a deep breath; she was aware of a hundred pairs of curious -eyes. The awful silence of the room seemed to leap upon her and bear -her down. She turned her head with an effort and met Caleb’s eyes. For -a single second they looked at each other, with the shock of mutual -feeling, then she answered, and her low voice reached the farthest -corner of the crowded room. - -“I do.” - -Judge Hollis waited an instant; he let every word she said have its -full effect and weight. “Did you see him upon the morning of the -assassination?” - -“I did.” - -“In the basement of the court-house?” - -“In the room which you call the cage, Judge Hollis,” she replied -quietly, though she colored again; “I saw him there twice.” - -“At what time?” the old man’s harsh voice rang, like the blow of a -sledge-hammer. - -“He was with me in that room when the clock struck one, and we both -heard the shots fired.” Diana spoke gently, but her voice thrilled; she -knew that, in the face of the scurrilous attacks upon Caleb Trench, her -position was at once courageous and perilous. - -“He was in the room in the basement with you then, when Yarnall was -shot,” said Judge Hollis, his eyes kindling with triumph. - -“He was.” - -She had scarcely uttered the words, and Caleb Trench’s white face had -flushed deeply, when some one cheered. In an instant there was a wave -of applause. It swept through the room, it reached the corridors and -descended the stairs; the sentries heard it in the quadrangle. Men -stood up on the rear benches and shouted. Then Judge Ladd enforced -silence; he even threatened to clear the court by force and lock the -doors, and like a wave of the sea, the wild enthusiasm receded, only to -gain force and roll back at the first opportunity. - -Meanwhile Colonel Royall sat behind the witness-stand, leaning on his -cane, his head bowed and his fine aristocratic face as bloodless as a -piece of paper. There were many who pointed at him and whispered, and -the whisper traveled. “Was he thinking of his girl’s mother?” That foul -hag, the world, has a heart that treasures scandal, and the lips of -malice! - -The court-room seethed with excitement, but silence reigned again; -the lights were flaring now on the judge’s desk and on the reporters’ -table; the busy scratch of the stenographers’ pens was audible. Diana -was still on the stand, and she explained how Caleb Trench left her to -ascertain the results of the shots, and how he returned and got her -father and herself into their carriage. Her testimony was simple and -direct, and, though she was briefly cross-examined by Colonel Coad, the -prosecuting attorney, she sustained her position and suffered nothing -at the hands of that pompous but courteous gentleman. - -When Diana rose from the witness-stand and walked back to her seat -between her father and Miss Sarah Hollis, there was another ripple of -the wave of applause, but it was quickly suppressed. She leaned back -in her chair and clasped her hands tightly in her lap, struggling -with herself, for she was conscious of a new tumult of feeling that -submerged even thought itself; and it seemed to her that her heart -beat, not only in her bosom, but in every quivering limb. Was it -possible, she asked herself, that the tumult in the court-room had -frightened her? Or the fact that on her word alone hung a man’s life? -No, no, not altogether; in that moment, when their eyes met, she had -seen again the lonely trail and heard the dull passion in the man’s -voice when he told her that he loved her; and suddenly, in one of those -supreme moments of self-revelation, she knew that nothing mattered to -her, neither his humble struggle, his poverty, the accusation against -him, not even Jean Bartlett’s story, nothing--nothing counted but that -one primitive, undeniable fact of his love for her. Before it she felt -suddenly defenseless, yet another self was awakening to vigilance in -her heart and summoning her back to the battle of resistance. She had -testified for him, and every face in the court-room turned toward her, -strained to watch her, told her how great had been the weight of her -testimony. She had deceived herself with the thought that only her -duty brought her, her honor, her determination that justice should be -done. Yet she knew now that it was not that, but something mightier, -deeper, more unconquerable,--something that, to her shame, refused even -to consider the charges against him, and, instead, drew her to him -with a force so irresistible that she trembled. She fought it back and -struggled, resisted and tried to fix her attention on the proceedings -of the court. But what was there in the man? What power that had won -its way even with men and made him in so short a time a leader, and -now--was it casting its spell over her? - -Then she heard her father testifying briefly to the time that he left -her, to his own visit to Judge Ladd’s room, the announcement of the -shooting, and his return to Diana. It was in the order of sustaining -her testimony, but it was unnecessary, for she had already established -an _alibi_ for Trench. - -Then followed a tilt between counsel on the admission of testimony -from Dr. Cheyney as to the character of the defendant. Colonel Coad -resisted, fighting point by point. Judge Hollis was determined and -vindictive; he even lost his temper and quarreled with the Commonwealth -attorney, and would, doubtless, have become profane if the court -had not intervened and sustained him. In that moment the old lawyer -triumphed openly, his eyes flashing, his face nearly purple with -excitement. But the tilt was not over when the doctor was put on the -stand. It became evident, in a moment, that Judge Hollis was bent -on the story of Jean Bartlett, and Colonel Coad got to his feet and -objected. Again silence reigned in the court-room, and they heard the -tree of heaven creak under its weight of human fruit. Inch by inch -Colonel Coad fought and Judge Hollis won. Testimony had been admitted -to damage the character of the prisoner; he was offering this in -sur-rebuttal. It was half-past six when Colonel Coad gave up and the -old judge put on his spectacles and stared into the spectacled eyes of -the old doctor. The two eager, lined old faces were as wonderful in -their shrewd watchfulness as two faces from the brush of Rembrandt. -The dingy, green-shaded lights flickered on them, and the suppressed -excitement of the room thrilled about them, until the very atmosphere -seemed charged. - -“You have heard the prisoner charged with the ruin of Jean Bartlett, -Dr. Cheyney?” asked the judge. - -“I have, sir.” - -“You knew Jean Bartlett before and after the birth of her child; what -was her mental condition at those times?” - -“Before the birth of her child she was sane; afterwards she was ill a -long time and never fully recovered from the fever and delirium.” - -“Did she make any statement to you before the birth of the child?” - -Colonel Coad objected; Judge Hollis said that he intended to show that -the prisoner was not the father of the child. Objection not sustained. -The judge looked sideways at Colonel Coad and coughed; the colonel sat -down. The judge repeated his question. - -“She did,” said Dr. Cheyney slowly, leaning a little forward and -looking intently at the old lawyer. A breathless pause ensued. - -“Please state to the court the condition and nature of that statement.” -Judge Hollis’ tone was dry, rasping, unemotional. - -Dr. Cheyney took off his spectacles, wiped them and put them in his -pocket. “She was of sound mind and she stated her case to me, and I -made her repeat it and write it down, because”--the old doctor’s face -twisted a little into a whimsical grimace,--“I thought likely the child -might be handed around considerable.” - -A titter ran through the room. Judge Ladd rapped for order. Dr. Cheyney -unfolded a slip of paper and smoothed it out. - -“If it please the court,” he said quietly, “I have been very reluctant -to produce this evidence.” - -Colonel Coad rose. “Does it incriminate any person, or persons, not on -trial before this court?” he asked. - -“It does.” - -“Then, your Honor, I object!” shouted the indignant Coad. - -Judge Hollis turned to speak. - -“The objection is sustained,” said the court. - -The old lawyer for the defense turned purple again, and flashed a -furious glance at Dr. Cheyney. The doctor smiled, his face puckering. -The tense excitement and curiosity in the room found utterance in a -sigh of disappointment. Judge Hollis slammed his papers on his desk and -turned the witness over to the prosecution. Colonel Coad did not press -the examination, and the old doctor went calmly back to his seat with -his secret untold. - -Hollis turned to the court. “Your Honor, I waive the right to sum up, -and rest the case for the defense.” - -An hour later Colonel Coad had closed for the prosecution and Judge -Ladd charged the jury. - -There had been no recess, and the crowded room was packed to -suffocation. Everywhere were faces, white, haggard, intent with -excitement, and the labored breathing of men who hung upon a word. A -thunderstorm was coming on, and now and then a vivid flash flooded the -room with light. At half-past eight Judge Ladd gave the case to the -jury. The foreman rose and stated that the jury had reached a verdict -without leaving the box. - -There was an intense moment, and then Judge Ladd spoke slowly. - -“Have you agreed upon a verdict?” - -“We have, your Honor.” - -“Is the prisoner at the bar guilty, or not guilty, as charged in the -indictment?” - -“Not guilty.” - -The wave of passion and excitement broke, the court-room rose as one -man; the shout was heard ten squares away, and the echo reached the -farthest corner of the city. The bailiffs fought and struggled to keep -order, for men would have carried the prisoner on their shoulders. He -was the only one unmoved. He stood like a rock amid the surging crowd, -and it seemed to Diana that he towered, with a certain simplicity -and strength that made him seem at once apart from other men and -above them. In her heart she wondered at her own temerity, when she -had treated him with discourtesy. Here was a primitive man, and the -primitive strength, the righteous force in him, held other men, as that -strange gift of magnetism that wields and binds and moves millions till -they seem but one. - -She turned away, holding tightly to her father’s arm, eager to escape, -and begrudging the slow and tortuous passage to the door. Behind her -and before her, on every hand, from lip to lip, ran the prisoner’s name. - -The colonel almost lifted Diana from the crowd into the carriage. Then -he took his seat beside her and closed the door; slowly the horses made -their way through the throng in the quadrangle. It was raining hard, -and the wind blew the moisture across their heated faces. - -“By gum!” said Colonel Royall, “they’ll make him governor! But Jacob -Eaton--Jacob Eaton!” - -The old man was bewildered; he passed his hand over his face. Diana -said nothing; the night blurred itself into the rain. - - - - -XXV - - -IT was long past midnight when Mrs. Eaton went down-stairs for the -fourth time to see if her son had returned home. - -She was alone with the servants in the old Eaton house, which was -three miles from Broad Acres, and she had not ventured out in the -storm, which had been raging since early evening. The wind shook the -old house at intervals with the moan of autumn in the gale, yet the -roll of thunder recalled midsummer. Once she had looked out and, in a -blinding flash, saw the old cottonwoods in front of the house stripped -naked by the wind. There was a weird aspect to the world in that one -fierce moment of illumination, and the tumult of sounds without, the -creaking of the old house within, and the interminable ticking of the -clocks recalled to her shrinking mind a memory of that other night, -long ago, when she had been summoned home from Lexington, to find her -husband’s dead body in the long west room, and hear the whisperings -of the terrified servants on the stairs. She knew that even now the -negroes were locked in the wing, for they believed that on such nights -Eaton walked, demanding the blood of the Yarnalls, and since Yarnall’s -death, violent as his own, they had shrieked at shadows. - -Though she realized the folly of their superstitions, poor Jinny Eaton, -alone and vaguely terrified, shivered too. Once she caught herself -looking over her shoulder, and at last she cried hysterically. The -wind, sweeping a long branch against the window, rattled the pane, -and she started up, white with fright. In a sudden panic she rang for -her maid, but no one answered, though she heard the blurred sound -far in the distance; a glance at the clock told her it was nearly -two. There was no light except in the hall and the library, where -she herself had turned the electric switch, and she walked through -all the other dim rooms, starting at a shadow, and looking over her -shoulder when the floors creaked behind her. The house was much more -richly furnished than Broad Acres, and everywhere she was surrounded -with the luxuries that she loved. But alone there, in those desolate -hours before the dawn, poor Jinny found no comfort in the things -that had always seemed so comforting. In a vague way at first, and -constantly resisting even her own convictions, she had begun to feel -a doubt of Jacob,--Jacob, who had been almost omnipotent to her, who -had represented all her hopes and aspirations for years, and was, in -her own eyes, the achievement of her life. To have her faith in him -shaken was more bitter than death. And where was he? A premonition of -evil oppressed her, as she wandered from place to place in restless -unhappiness. Earlier in the night she had tried in vain to reach him -over the telephone: now her only resource was to wait. She went from -window to window, peeping out, her face drawn and haggard, and all -the well-preserved traces of her former beauty lost in her pathetic -dishevelment. She watched the morning dawn over the long fields that -smoked with moisture, and she saw the broken limbs of the trees and the -dead leaves that scurried before the wind, like the shriveled ghosts -of summer. Then, just as she had given up the vigil, and sank in a -disconsolate heap in the nearest chair, she heard his latch-key in the -door, and running into the hall fell on his neck in a fit of hysterical -weeping. - -“Oh, Jacob,” she sobbed, “where have you been?” - -“Don’t be silly!” he said crossly, and loosened her arms from his neck. -“I’m dead beat; where’s Davidson? I want something.” - -“The servants are not up yet,” his mother faltered. “I’ll get you some -whiskey and soda, dear, and I’ll ring up Davidson. I’ve been up all -night.” - -Jacob flung himself into a chair and sat there waiting for her to bring -the liquor and wait on him, as she had waited on him all his life. But, -if she thought of this at all, it was only with an alarmed perception -of the haggard moodiness of his expression. She saw that he had been -drinking heavily already, but she dared not deny him more, and, in a -way, she had faith in his own judgment in the matter. She had never -known him to drink more than he was able to bear, and she did not know -that Will Broughton said that Trench owed his life to Eaton’s tippling, -and steadier nerves and a firmer hand would have dealt certain death. -She came back at last, after a lengthy excursion to the pantry, and -brought him some refreshments, arranged hastily on a little tray by -hands so unaccustomed to any sick-room service that they were almost -awkward. She put the things down beside him on the table and fluttered -about, eager to help him and almost afraid of him, as she was in his -ungracious moods. But her desire for news, the certainty that he -could settle all her doubts, lent a pleasurable thrill of excitement -to her trepidation. Her news from the city had been vague, and the -announcement of Caleb’s acquittal had only filtered to her over a -belated telephone to the housekeeper, but here was the fountainhead of -all her information. - -Meanwhile Jacob drank the liquor, but scarcely tasted the food, and his -lowering expression disfigured his usually smooth good looks. He leaned -back in his chair, staring absently at the bottle, and saying nothing, -though he slowly closed and unclosed his hands, a trick of his when -angry or deeply distraught. His mother, seeing the gesture, experienced -another throb of dismay; something had happened, something which struck -at the root of things, but what? She fluttered to the window and -opening the shutter let in the pale gray light of morning, and as she -did it she heard the servants stirring in the wing. At last she could -endure suspense no longer. - -“For heaven’s sake, Jacob!” she cried, “what is the matter?” - -He gave her a sidelong look from under heavy lids and seemed to -restrain an impulse to speak out. “I suppose you know that rascal is -acquitted?” he said curtly. - -“I could scarcely believe it!” she replied, dropping into the chair -opposite and pushing back her long full sleeves and loosening the -ribbons at her throat, as if she suddenly felt the heat. “It seems -impossible--after your evidence, too, and Governor Aylett’s! That jury -must have been full of anarchists.” - -“Full of asses!” snapped Jacob. “I fancy that you don’t know that Diana -Royall got up on the witness-stand and made a public exhibition of -herself to clear him?” - -“Diana?” Mrs. Eaton could not believe her ears. - -“Yes, Diana,” mocked her son, “our Diana. She went on the stand and -created a sensation, took the court by storm and the city. Good Lord! -Her name’s in every club in the place.” - -“I--I can’t believe it!” gasped his mother: “it’s incredible--Diana -Royall?” - -“Incredible?” He rose, his face was white with fury. “Is it incredible? -Do you remember her mother?” - -Mrs. Eaton collapsed. “Jacob!” she breathed, “don’t! It makes me shiver -to think you might have married her.” - -“By God, I would to-day!” he cried, unable to restrain himself, “if -only to break her spirit, to make her pay for this!” - -“I can’t see what she knew,” Mrs. Eaton protested, “she--a young -girl--and all this awful scandal about Jean Bartlett in the papers. In -my day, a young girl would have been ashamed to show her face in the -court.” - -“Well, she wasn’t,” said Jacob dryly; “she appeared and told the court -that at the hour of the shooting she was alone with Caleb Trench in the -prisoners’ cage!” - -“Merciful heavens!” ejaculated Mrs. Eaton faintly, “was David crazy to -let her do it?” - -“He’s an old fool!” said Jacob fiercely, “a damned old fool!” - -Mrs. Eaton clasped her hands. “I’m only too thankful, Jacob, that you -never married her!” she said devoutly. - -“She’s refused me twice,” said Jacob grimly. - -His mother uttered an inarticulate sound. And at that instant Davidson, -an old gray-headed negro, appeared and Jacob called him. “Tell James -to pack my suit-case,” he said sharply. “I’m going to Lexington this -morning on the eight-forty.” - -“Doctor Cheyney’s at the doah, suh,” said Davidson, “and would like ter -see yo’.” - -“What does that old fool want, I wonder?” Jacob remarked, as he rose to -follow the negro into the hall. - -“What are you going so soon for, Jacob?” his mother asked tremulously, -“and can you--the bail--” - -“I’ve arranged that,” said Jacob shortly, and flung himself out of the -room. - -Dr. Cheyney was looking out from under the cover of his buggy, and old -Henk was breathing as if they had ascended the hill at an unusual gait. - -“Morning, Jacob,” said the doctor pleasantly, “I stopped by to leave -that book for your mother; Mrs. Broughton asked me to bring it when I -passed yesterday and I clean forgot it.” - -Jacob took the volume gingerly and looked politely bored. What in the -world did the old fool mean by bringing books before seven o’clock in -the morning? - -Dr. Cheyney gathered up the reins: conversation seemed improbable, but -he noticed that Davidson had gone back into the house. They were quite -alone under the leaden sky, and the fresh wind blew moist across their -faces. - -“By the way,” said the old man carelessly, “Judge Hollis has been with -Juniper all night and at six this morning I heard he had a confession.” - -Jacob looked up into the doctor’s eyes, his own narrowing. “Ah,” he -said, “I presume Judge Hollis makes out that Juniper did the shooting?” - -“Don’t know,” said Dr. Cheyney, slapping the reins on Henk’s broad -back, “heard there would be an arrest to-day,” and he drove slowly off, -the old wheels sinking in first one rut and then another, and jolting -the carriage from side to side. - -Jacob Eaton stood looking after it a minute, then he turned and went -into the house. It was now seven o’clock in the morning. - -That evening, at the corresponding hour, Colonel Royall and Diana -were dining alone at Broad Acres. The fact that Diana had been drawn -into an undesirable publicity through her unexpected connection with -the celebrated case troubled Colonel Royall profoundly. He was an -old-fashioned Southern gentleman, and believed devoutly in sheltering -and treasuring his beautiful daughter; every instinct had been jarred -upon by the mere fact of her appearance on the witness-stand, and the -circumstances, too, which made it practically his own fault. He blamed -himself for his carelessness in ignorantly leaving her in a room used -by the prisoners and, in fact, for taking her there at all. Yet he -fully sympathized with her in her courage. Behind it all, however, was -a memory which stung, and the knowledge that an old scandal is never -really too dead to rise, like a phœnix, from its ashes. - -All through the latter part of the summer the colonel had been unwell, -and lately Diana had watched him with deep concern. Dr. Cheyney -pooh-poohed her solicitude, said the colonel was as sound as a boy -of ten, and only advised a cheerful atmosphere. But Diana, sitting -opposite to him that day at dinner, saw how white and drawn his face -was, how pinched his lips, how absent his gentle blue eyes. She felt -a sudden overwhelming dread and found it difficult to talk and laugh -lightly, even when he responded with an eagerness that was an almost -pathetic attempt at his natural manner. - -They were just leaving the dining-room when Judge Hollis was announced, -and Diana was almost glad, even of this interruption, though she was -conscious of a sharp dread that they were to hear more of the trial. A -glance at the judge’s face as he stalked into the room confirmed this -impression; he was no longer wholly triumphant, his rugged jaw was -locked, and his shaggy brows hung low over his keen eyes. He walked -into the center of the room as usual and banged his hat down on the -table. - -“David,” he said abruptly, “how deep are you in with Jacob Eaton?” - -Colonel Royall leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasping the -arms. “Pretty well in,” he said simply, “unless he’s sold out my shares -for me. I asked it, but he didn’t do it last week.” - -“Oh, Lordy!” said the judge. - -Diana went around the table and put her hand on her father’s shoulder; -her young figure, drawn to its full height, seemed to stand between him -and impending misfortune. - -“Juniper confessed this morning,” said Judge Hollis harshly, forcing -himself to his unpleasant task. “He was hired by Jacob Eaton to stand -in the window of the court-room while Jacob fired from behind him and -killed Yarnall.” - -Colonel Royall rose and stood, white as ashes. “My God!” he said. - -Diana flung one arm around him. Judge Hollis stood looking at them a -moment, then he cleared his throat, choked and went on. - -“Caleb Trench to-day gave me the proofs that Aaron Todd and others have -collected in regard to the Eaton Investment Company. The shares are not -worth the paper they’re written on, the company is a name, a bubble, a -conspiracy. Not one cent will ever be recovered by the stockholders. -Before nine o’clock this morning Jacob Eaton jumped his bail and ran. -He can’t be found--he--” - -Diana suddenly stretched out a white arm before her father, as if she -warded off a blow. - -“Not another word, Judge,” she said sternly, “not a word--on your life!” - -Judge Hollis uttered an exclamation and went over to the colonel’s -side. “Royall,” he said, “I’m a brute--but it’s God’s truth.” - -“I know it,” said Colonel Royall, “and Jacob is of my blood--I feel the -disgrace. Hollis, I feel the disgrace!” and he sat down and covered his -face with his hands. - - - - -XXVI - - -TWO mornings later Dr. Cheyney finished his breakfast in abstracted -silence; not even Miss Lucinda’s best rice griddle-cakes calling -forth a word of approval. He had been talking over the telephone with -Diana Royall. He finished his perfunctory examination of the daily -paper, which was full of the flight of Jacob Eaton, the collapse of -the Eaton Investment Company, the ruin of many prominent citizens, -and the illness of Mrs. Eaton, who had been sent at once to a private -sanitarium in the city. - -The absorbing topic of Eaton had almost swallowed up the hitherto -absorbing topic of Caleb Trench, though Caleb once more loomed up, -directing the forces of the opposition. - -The doctor folded the paper viciously and put it in his pocket, then he -went out and climbed into his old buggy; he remembered quite distinctly -that other morning when he had climbed into it at six o’clock to -drive past the Eatons at a convenient hour. It might be said that the -old man was so hardened in kindly iniquity that his conscience never -suffered a single twinge. He and old Henk traveled more slowly up the -hill, however, than on that previous occasion. As he approached Broad -Acres he was struck with the dreary aspect of the autumn, and noticed -that even the house itself looked less cheerful. He had seen Colonel -Royall’s name on every quotation of losses in the Eaton Company, and he -drew his own conclusions. - -At the door Diana met him. She was very pale. - -“Dear Dr. Cheyney,” she said, holding out both hands, “it’s a relief to -see you! I couldn’t tell you over the ’phone--but--” She stopped, her -lips trembled. - -“What is it, Diana?” the old man asked gently. - -“You know the Shut Room?” She looked up imploringly. - -The silence of the house behind her seemed impenetrable; the long hall -was vacant. - -“I know,” said the doctor, and Diana understood that he knew even more -than she did. - -“He’s been sitting there alone; he will not let me stay with him,” she -explained. - -Dr. Cheyney stood a moment in some doubt, his hand at his chin in -a familiar attitude of thought. His gospel refused to intrude into -the confidence of any one, but there were cases where it might be an -absolute necessity to interfere; the question which confronted him was -whether or not this was one of these rare instances. - -“How long has it been?” he asked finally. - -“Two whole days,” replied Diana, “and he has scarcely eaten a mouthful. -This morning he took only one cup of coffee; he looks like death. And -you know how it is,--that room always affects him so, he never seems -himself after he has been there. Sometimes,” she added passionately, -“sometimes--I wish I could wall it up!” - -“I wish you could!” said Dr. Cheyney devoutly. - -“He sits there and looks out of the window: and twice he has forbidden -me to come there,” Diana went on. “What can I do? It--it breaks my -heart to see him so, and I’m sure my mother would not wish it, but he -will not listen to that.” - -The old doctor’s lips came together in a sharp line: without another -word he turned and went up the stairs, reluctance in his step. At the -landing was a stained glass window, the work of a famous European -artist, and the doctor glanced at it with a certain weariness: -personally he preferred plate glass and a long glimpse of level fields. -He had reached the head of the second broad flight now, and the second -door to the left of the wide hall was ajar, the door which was usually -shut and locked. Where the doctor stood he could see across the room, -for one of the window shutters was open, and it looked still as it -had looked twenty-three years before, when Diana was born. There were -the same soft and harmonious coloring, the same rich old furniture, -the deep-hued Turkey rug on the polished floor, the spotless ruffled -curtains. It was unchanged. Life may change a thousand times while -these inanimate things remain to mock us with their endurance. The -doctor moved resolutely forward and pushed open the door. Colonel -Royall was sitting erect in a high-backed chair in the center of the -room, his hands clasping the arms, his head bowed, and his kindly blue -eyes staring straight before him. He was singularly pale and seemed -to have aged twenty years. Dr. Cheyney walked slowly across the room -and laid his hand on his old friend’s shoulder,--they had been boys -together. - -“Is it as bad as that, Davy?” he asked. - -Colonel Royall roused himself with an apparent effort, and looked up -with an expression in which patient endurance and great grief were -strongly mingled. There was a touch, too, of dignity and reluctance -in his manner, yet if he resented the doctor’s intrusion he was too -courteous to show it. “I’m pretty hard hit, William,” he said simply, -“pretty hard hit all around; there’s not much more to be said--that -hasn’t been said already on the street corners and in the market-place.” - -His wounded pride showed through his manner without destroying his -delicate restraint. - -The doctor drew a chair beside him and sat down unasked. His -sympathy was a beautiful thing and needed no voicing; it reached out -imperceptible feelers and made him intuitively aware of the raw cut -where not even tenderness may lay a finger. - -“It’s not all gone, David?” he inquired. - -Colonel Royall ran his fingers through his thick white hair. “Pretty -much all, William,” he said mechanically; “the place here is free, -unmortgaged, I mean, and I reckon I can hold the property in Virginia, -but the rest--” He raised his hands with a significant and pathetic -gesture; he had fine old hands, and they had saved and directed from -his youth up until now--to this end! To have trusted too deeply to an -unworthy relative. William Cheyney leaned back in his chair; the awful -actuality of the calamity was borne in upon him, and he remembered, -even at that moment, his feeling of confidence in the stability of -Colonel Royall’s fortune, though, sometimes, he had doubted the -colonel’s money sense. There was sometimes, too, a terrible synchronism -between ruin and mental collapse. He looked keenly at the old man -before him, who seemed suddenly shrunken and gray, and he was troubled -by the absent expression of the mild blue eyes; it was almost a look of -vacancy. He laid his hand tenderly on the other’s arm. - -“Davy, man,” he said, “cheer up; there are worse things than financial -losses.” - -The colonel recalled himself apparently from very distant scenes and -gazed at him reproachfully. “No one can know that better than I,” he -said, with a touch of bitterness. - -The doctor stretched out his hand with a bowed head. “Forgive me, -David,” he said simply. - -“There’s nothing to forgive,” replied Colonel Royall. “I let you say -things, William, that other men could not say to me. But this is a -bitter hour; my youth was not idle, I never knew an idle day, and I -laid up a fortune in place of my father’s competence; I wanted to spend -my old age in peace, and I trusted my affairs to a rogue. By gum, I -hate to call my cousin’s son a rascal, but it seems he is! Not half the -burden, though, lies in my own loss; it’s the thought of all these poor -people he has ruined. Women and girls and old men who had savings--all -gone in the Eaton Investment Company. What was it Caleb Trench stated -about that company? It seems as if I couldn’t understand it all, -I’m--I’m dizzy!” The colonel touched his forehead apprehensively. - -The doctor regarded him thoughtfully over his spectacles, but he made -no reservations. “Well, there isn’t any investment company; that’s -about the size of it, David,” he said reluctantly. “People bought their -shares and got--waste paper. They say Jacob used lots of the money -campaigning; it isn’t charged that he wanted it for himself.” - -“I’ve always held that blood was thicker than water,” said Colonel -Royall, “and Jacob is a thief--a thief, sir!” he added, putting aside -an interruption from the doctor with a wide sweep of the hand. “He’s -robbed hundreds in this State because his name, his family, stood for -honesty, business reputation, honor--and once I thought him fit to be -my confidant!” - -“We’re all deceived sometimes, David,” said the doctor soothingly, -watching him with his keen skillful look, “we’re not omniscient; if we -were, there’d be a lot more folks in jail, I reckon. I wouldn’t take -it to heart; Jacob was on his own responsibility; they can’t blame -you.” - -“They ought to,” declared the colonel passionately. “I’m an old man, -I’m his relative; it was my business to know what he was doing. And -there’s poor Jinny! I wanted her to come here, so did Diana, and you -packed her off to a sanitarium.” - -“To be sure,” said Dr. Cheyney grimly; “there’s no need of having three -lunatics instead of one. Jinny’s nerves were about wrecked, she needs -quiet, and she’ll come out well enough; it’s not Jinny I’m worried -about. You let Jacob go, don’t you shoulder Jacob; no one thinks you’re -to blame!” - -Colonel Royall let his clenched hand fall on the arm of his chair. “The -disgrace of it!” he said, and his lips trembled. “I’ve had my share of -disgrace, William!” - -Dr. Cheyney rose abruptly and walked to the window. Through the open -shutter he could see, from this side of the house, the distant river, -and near at hand was a tall jingo tree, yellow as gold with autumn. The -other trees stood half naked against the sky. Below him a few white -chickens strayed on the lawn unrebuked. - -“You see more of the river since the railroad cut that last crossing,” -Colonel Royall remarked irrelevantly, “and have you noticed how late -the jingo stays in leaf? It was so the year that--” He stopped. - -The doctor turned and fixed an irate eye upon him. - -Colonel Royall was leaning forward, his eyes fixed absently on the -window, yet he had felt instinctively the doctor’s attitude. “It may be -folly,” he pleaded, as if in extenuation, “but I don’t want the place -changed; it was like this when she was happy here and”--his head sank -lower--“I’ve got to sell it! I’ve got to sell it--oh, my God!” - -The doctor went over and took hold of him. “Davy!” he said fiercely, -“Davy, you’ve got to get out of here! I’m glad it’s to be sold; have -done with it! You’ve got to eat and drink and sleep or you’ll--” - -He stopped, his hands still on his old friend’s, for Colonel Royall had -slipped gently into unconsciousness, and lay white and helpless in the -high-backed chair. - - - - -XXVII - - -IT was late that night before Dr. Cheyney drove away from Broad -Acres. Colonel Royall had rallied a little, and the doctor and the -servants had put him to bed, not in the Shut Room, but in his own old -four-poster that had belonged to his mother. - -Before the doctor went away he had sent for a trained nurse and -received and answered telegrams for Diana, who would not leave her -father. At half-past ten the old doctor drove up to his own door, -overtaxed and weary. As he climbed down from his old buggy his quick -eye detected a brighter light than usual in his study window, and Miss -Lucinda Colfax met him at the door. - -“There’s been a lady waiting to see you for two hours,” she whispered, -pointing mysteriously at the study door. - -The doctor sighed as he slipped off his overcoat. It was some belated -patient, of course, and a stranger, or Miss Lucinda would have named -her. He looked pale and worn, and his white head was bowed a little -with care, and the thought of old David, whom he loved, as he opened -the study door and came into the circle of light from the student’s -lamp on the table. A fire burned on the hearth, and a woman sat in -the great old-fashioned winged chair before it. As he entered she rose -and stood facing him. There was a certain grace and ease in the tall -figure and the black gown, but she wore a thick veil covering both her -large hat and her face and throat. She made a movement, an involuntary -one, it seemed, as the old man came toward her, and she saw the pallor -and age in his face, a face which was full of a rare sweetness and -strength. But, whatever her first impulse was, the sight of him seemed -to arrest it, to turn it aside, and she drew back, laying her hand on -the high chair and saying nothing. - -“I am sorry that you had to wait so long, madam,” Dr. Cheyney said, -“but I was with a very sick man. What can I do for you? Will you be -seated?” he added, drawing forward another chair. - -“Thank you,” she replied in a low voice, sinking into the chair by -which she stood. “I wanted to speak to you--about--about--some old -friends.” - -“Ah?” The doctor looked curiously at the veil. He could not distinguish -a feature under it, but he seemed to be aware of the feverish -brightness of her eyes. - -“I--I used to know people here,” she began and stopped, hesitating. - -He did not offer to help her. - -“I was born near here; I used to know you.” She leaned forward, -clasping her hands on her knee, and he noticed that her fingers -trembled. - -“I am an old man and forgetful,” he said pleasantly; “you must jog my -memory. Who are the friends you wish to ask for?” - -“Friends?” she repeated in a strange voice. - -“You said friends,” he replied mildly. - -She turned her face toward him, lifting her veil. “Don’t you know me?” -she asked abruptly. - -Dr. Cheyney, looking over the tops of his spectacles, eyed her gravely. -It was a handsome face, slightly pale, with large eyes and full red -lips, beautiful, no doubt, in its first youth, but lined now and -hardened, with an indefinable expression which was elusive, fluttering, -passionate, and most of all unhappy. The old man shook his head. She -rose from her seat and crossing the room quickly, laid her large white -hand on his arm. She was close to him now; he could see her breathing -stir the laces on her bosom, and was sharply conscious of the agitation -that possessed her and seemed to thrill her very touch upon his sleeve. -She looked into his eyes, her own wild and sorrowful. - -“Is it possible? Don’t you know me?” - -He returned her gaze sorrowfully, his face changing sharply. “Yes,” he -said soberly, after a moment, “I do now, Letty.” - -“Letty!” She bit her lips, with a little hard sob, and her fingers fell -from his arm. “My God!” she cried, “how it all comes back! No one has -called me that in twenty years.” - -Dr. Cheyney made no responsive movement or gesture; he stood looking -at her quietly, curiously, a little sadly. He noted the dignity of -figure, and certain fine lines of beauty that had rather matured than -diminished, yet the change in her was for the worse in his eyes. -Whatever there had been of passion and vanity and waywardness in her -face in her youth had crystallized with maturity; there was a palpable -worldliness in her manner which sharpened his conception of her as she -must be now. The long gap in the years since he had known her as she -was, until now, when she must be another person, was opened suddenly by -the realization of the change in her, and it seemed to him that only -a woman could change so much. Deeply moved herself, she was only half -conscious of the criticism of his glance; she came back across the room -after a moment and stood beside him, looking at the falling embers, the -glow of the fire acting weirdly in its illumination of her face. - -“Tell me about him,” she said in a low voice; “I know he has lost -nearly everything.” - -Dr. Cheyney’s lips tightened a little, and he frowned. “Why do you want -to know?” he asked gravely. - -She blushed deeply and painfully. “You mean I have no right?” - -He nodded, looking at the fire. - -“Perhaps, I haven’t,” she admitted quickly, pleadingly. “But there is -Diana--has he made her hate me?” - -“She thinks you dead,” Dr. Cheyney replied quietly. - -“Dead?” She shuddered, looking up with frightened eyes. Then her face -blazed angrily. “What right had he to do it? What right--to make her -believe a falsehood?” - -The old man’s eyes met hers gravely, rebukingly. “Wasn’t it the best -way, Letty?” he asked gently. - -Her blush deepened again, her brow, her chin, even her throat were -crimson. She bit her quivering lip until the blood came. “You are very -cruel,” she said bitterly, “you righteous people!” - -Dr. Cheyney leaned heavily on the mantel, his eyes on the fire. “Would -you have had us tell a little innocent child that, Letty? Tell her that -her mother had deserted her and brought shame upon her?” - -“Do you mean that she has never known?” she cried, amazed. - -“Never. David did not wish her to know, and we respected his wish. She -believes her mother died when she was three years old; she even has a -deep and constant tenderness for the Shut Room.” - -She looked at him bewildered. “I do not understand.” - -“Your room,” he explained simply; “he closed the door on it that -day, and for twenty years it has been unchanged. Yesterday I saw the -very book you laid face downwards on the table, the handkerchief you -dropped. He has mourned you as dead. In his gentleness, his humility, -his greatness of soul, he chooses to believe you died that day. He -loved you before it, he has loved and mourned you ever since. No one -has ever heard a reproach from his lips, no one ever will. You broke -his heart.” - -She covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. - -The old man stood looking at her unmoved, though the storm of her -emotion shook her from head to foot. Still weeping, she threw herself -into the chair by the fire and bowed her head on her arms. - -“It is twenty years,” she said at last, “and I have suffered--have you -never forgiven me, William Cheyney?” - -The old man’s face saddened yet more deeply. “There was nothing for me -to forgive; we all had his great example.” - -She looked up with swimming eyes, her lips twitching with pain. “It’s -twenty years--he married me after David got the divorce, you knew that?” - -The doctor nodded. - -“He’s dead. Oh, he knew I had suffered, he wearied of me, and now he’s -dead and I’m all alone. Oh, don’t you understand?” she held out both -hands toward him, “don’t you know why I came?” - -The old man shook his head sadly. “God knows,” he said. - -“I want Diana!” she cried, “I want my daughter--I want her love!” - -Dr. Cheyney looked at her thoughtfully. “She’s twenty-three, Letty,” he -said simply, “and she loves her father.” - -She winced, turning her eyes from his to the fire. “I have seen her,” -she said, in subdued tones, “once or twice when she did not know it. -She looks--don’t you think she looks as I did?” she added eagerly. - -“No,” he said sternly, “no, she’s like David’s mother.” - -She flushed angrily. “Oh, never!” she exclaimed. “She is like me--but -you won’t admit it.” - -Dr. Cheyney shook his head. - -Disappointed, she dropped her chin into her hand and looked again into -the fire. “David has lost everything,” she said after a moment. “I -know, I heard in New York.” - -Dr. Cheyney, looking down at her, wondered what her secret thought -was, how far remorse had touched her? “I’m afraid he’s badly hit,” he -admitted slowly. - -She rose and went to him, her hands trembling. “Help me,” she said with -feverish eagerness, “help me to get Diana. I want her to come to me; I -can take care of her. It would help him, too. Oh, don’t you see I could -do that much?” - -The old doctor’s penetrating eyes met hers. “You can take care of her,” -he repeated; “you were not wealthy, Letty; have you grown so?” - -“You have always been hard in your judgment of me,” she cried bitterly. -“I am not a bad woman--I know, oh, I know I sinned! I married David so -young; I found out my mistake, and when Fenwick came--I loved him, I -ran away from my husband and my child, I was wicked--oh, I know it! -But I suffered. I am not poor. He left me well off, almost rich. I have -a right to it, he married me, I am his widow.” - -Dr. Cheyney said nothing; he moved away from her a little and again -leant his elbow on the mantel. - -“Will you help me, will you go to Diana?” she pleaded, following him -with sorrowful eyes. - -He shook his head. “Never!” - -She wrung her hands unconsciously. “You think I have no right to Diana?” - -“Have you?” he asked quietly. - -She hung her head, and the intensity of her suffering touched him -without shaking his resolve. - -“Have you any right to spend a dollar of that money on her?” he added; -“surely you know that she could not receive it?” - -There was a long silence. She turned, and hiding her face against the -high back of the chair, sobbed convulsively. “You want to rob me of the -last thing I have in the world!” she said at last. - -“You deserted her,” he replied more gently. - -She raised her face, wet with her passionate tears, and held out both -hands to him. “Will you help me, will you tell her I am not dead? I am -her mother; she has a right to know it.” - -Dr. Cheyney still regarded her. “He is very ill, Letty,” he said, “he -may die; would you rob him of his daughter?” - -“No, oh, no!” she cried impetuously, “but I--I want her, too; I have -wanted her for twenty years. Oh, Dr. Cheyney, there is joy in heaven -over one sinner that repenteth!” - -“Diana will not go with you,” he said quietly. “I know it, and if she -would, I would not tell her.” - -“You refuse?” She leaned forward, still holding the chair with one hand -and the other pressed against her heart. - -“Absolutely.” - -She shivered. “Cruel!” she whispered bitterly. - -He turned to his medicine cabinet and began to unlock the door. “Stay a -moment,” he said kindly, “you need something, you will be ill.” - -But she fastened her wraps at her throat and let her veil fall over her -face again. “I am not ill,” she said bitterly, “only heart-broken.” - -He urged her to taste the cordial in his hand, but she put it aside and -went to the door. The old man followed her. - -“Letty,” he said, “David Royall is very ill; do not lay another sin -against him on your conscience.” - -She had opened the door and, at his words, turned and laid her cheek -against the lintel with a hard dry sob. “I will see Diana,” she said. - -The doctor made no reply; his quick ear had caught the sound of a step -on the veranda, and almost at the same moment Caleb Trench appeared in -the lighted space before the open door. - -“What is it, Caleb?” the doctor asked quickly. - -The young man glanced at the tall woman who still leaned against the -door. “I’ve just got back from town,” he said, “and I wanted to ask you -about Colonel Royall. I hear that he is ill.” - -The woman started and drew away, and Caleb saw it. - -Dr. Cheyney shook his head apprehensively. “Very ill,” he said; “he was -taken with a sinking spell about noon. Come in, Caleb, and I’ll tell -you about it.” - -Trench stood aside to let the veiled woman pass out, and then he -followed Dr. Cheyney into the study with a face of some anxiety. He -looked worn and old for his years, but resolutely calm. “How do you -think he really is?” he asked. - -Dr. Cheyney sank down into his easy-chair by the fire. “I’m not sure -that he’ll live,” he said despondently. - -Trench frowned, making an inarticulate sound. The firelight flared on -his face now, and its expression was significant. Dr. Cheyney bent down -and began a desultory search for his carpet slippers; even in the most -interesting moments of life, physical discomforts pinch the unwary, and -the old man’s feet ached. “He’s worn out, broken-hearted,” he said, -referring to his old friend and removing his boots absently. “He’s -taken this affair to heart, too.” - -“Jacob Eaton?” - -The doctor nodded. “Smooth young scamp,” he said bitterly, “I always -wanted to deal out the husks to him, but I reckon he’ll get ’em in the -Lord’s good time. It’s pretty bad, I suppose, Caleb.” - -“Worse than we thought,” replied Caleb. “The Harrisons’ bank closed its -doors to-night; he’s wrecked it and there’s a terrible panic in the -city. I wonder if he took much with him?” - -“All he could get, I reckon,” mused the doctor, his mind dwelling not -on Jacob but on Letty, and the climax which he saw impending. - -Meanwhile Caleb Trench sat staring into the fire. “I’m afraid Colonel -Royall will suffer heavily,” he said; “he wasn’t so deeply involved, it -appears, but--as soon as he heard of the wide-spread ruin--he offered -to redeem a number of Jacob Eaton’s pledges. His offer was accepted, -the papers signed, and now all these claims are rolling up. I honor -him for what he did,” Trench added simply; “it was noble, but it was -quixotic. I fear greatly for the consequences.” - -Dr. Cheyney settled himself back in his winged chair and put the tips -of his fingers together. “I think likely he’ll escape it all,” he -remarked gravely; “he was unconscious twenty minutes to-day and David -isn’t as young as he was. He may be fortunate enough to pass beyond -this trouble.” - -Trench moved uneasily, then he rose and stood, his back to the fire. -“And Miss Royall?” he said. - -“She’s with her father,” replied Dr. Cheyney. “Caleb, I never saw -anything so fine as she was at your trial.” - -Trench was silent for a moment, and his face in the shadow eluded -scrutiny. “I would have given my right hand to save her that -notoriety,” he said at last. - -Dr. Cheyney looked thoughtful, but there was the shadow of a smile -in the depths of his mild eyes. “You’ve never asked me to finish my -testimony,” he remarked. “I’m in the possession of a secret that would -clear up all this scandal about poor little Sammy; I’ve waited three -weeks and you don’t ask me. I wonder if you’re human, Caleb Trench?” - -Trench swung around and faced him. The expression of his face, its -power and its mastery and self-control had never been more poignant. -“Dr. Cheyney,” he said, “it doesn’t concern me; let them say what they -please.” - -“On my soul!” said Dr. Cheyney, “I won’t tell you! You’re too pesky -proud to live. I reckon they’ll say all you want and more too, young -man.” - -“Let them!” said Caleb. - - - - -XXVIII - - -IT was two days after this that Judge Hollis came into Caleb’s little -office and found him at work in his shirt sleeves. The table and desk -were covered with papers and open telegrams. The judge eyed the place -critically. Order showed in the neat pigeonholes and the rows of packed -shelves. - -“In two years you’ll have me beat,” remarked the judge, “then I’ll take -down my shingle.” - -Caleb smiled wearily. “You forget that this only shows how far -behindhand I am,” he replied; “you were never on trial for your life, -Judge.” - -The old man shook his head. “No,” he said, “and I was never the most -conspicuous figure in the State. Caleb, you’ve been threatened?” - -“Some letters, yes,” the younger man admitted, without emotion, “from -cranks, I fancy.” - -“No,” said the judge flatly, “there’s feeling. Some of these ignorant -people have got a notion that your campaign against Eaton, your attack -on his company, destroyed his credit and drove him to the wall. They’ve -got the idea that he’d have saved himself, and their investments, if -you’d let him be. They’re wild about it; money loss goes to the quick, -when a man can’t pay for his bacon he wants a scapegoat. The better -sort know it’s not your doing, and, I’ll say it for ’em, the newspapers -have been decent, but there’s feeling, Caleb; you’d better go armed.” - -Caleb laughed. “Judge, I was bred a Quaker. I only used my pistol here -in self-defense; I never went out with one in my pocket in my life.” - -The judge rubbed his chin. “You’d better now,” he remarked shortly. - -Caleb leaned back in his chair and looked out of the window -thoughtfully. “I wonder what my father would have said to his son -carrying weapons?” he reflected, amused. - -“Good deal better than to get a hole in you,” the judge retorted; “you -know how to use it!” - -Trench colored. “My blood was up, Judge,” he said, “a mob’s a cowardly -thing; I never felt such disgust in my life.” - -“Humph!” ejaculated the judge eloquently. - -Caleb smiled involuntarily. “I don’t think there’s any danger,” he said -pleasantly. - -“Of course not!” snapped the judge. “Trench, why don’t you clear up -this talk about that kid in yonder? Cheyney knows who the father is; -make him tell. By the Lord Harry,” he added, thumping the table with -his fist, “I wanted it out in court.” - -Caleb Trench turned slightly away, his face inscrutable. “Judge,” he -said, “I wouldn’t stir a finger. I took in the kid just as I took in -the dog. Let them talk.” - -The judge stared at him angrily, uncomprehendingly. “I reckon you’re a -crank,” he said; “you’re worse than David Royall.” - -“How is the colonel to-day?” Caleb asked, to change the subject; he -knew, for he had asked Dr. Cheyney over the telephone. - -“He’s better,” retorted the judge shortly; “you’re not, and you’ll be -worse if you don’t watch out. There are snakes in the grass.” - -Caleb smiled. “Judge,” he said, “if I listened to any one in the world -I would to you; I’m not ungrateful.” - -“Nonsense!” retorted the judge, and jammed his hat down harder than -usual. - -At the door he stopped and waved his cane aggressively. “I’ve warned -you,” he said harshly, “and if you were not an idiot, sir, you’d make -Cheyney speak. It’s some dratted crank of his about his professional -honor!” - -“How about a lawyer’s, Judge?” asked Caleb, amused. - -“Humph!” grunted the old man, and went out and slammed the door. - -Later that afternoon business took Caleb up to Cresset’s Corners to see -Aaron Todd. He had been twice to Broad Acres to inquire for Colonel -Royall without seeing Diana; he had refrained from asking for her. Dr. -Cheyney had told him that she would not leave her father, and he knew -that, as yet, he could scarcely express all he felt about the ordeal -of her testimony. He had forborne to account for that time to spare -her the publicity of the witness-stand, and his very silence only -made her evidence more significant. To see her and thank her without -saying all that was in his heart was no easy matter. He had driven -back his love for her, and battled against it, denied it a right to -exist, because he knew that she regarded him as an inferior. But now, -by her own act, when she acknowledged him as her friend and defended -him at the cost of a hundred uncharitable rumors, it seemed that he -might have misunderstood her natural pride of birth and affluence for -a repugnance to his poverty. When their eyes met in the court-room -with that inevitable shock of mutual feeling that leaves a startled -certainty behind it, he had felt almost sure that she loved him. But -since then he had plunged back again into his old doubts, arguing -that her testimony had been merely a matter of duty, and that his own -feeling had deceived him into imagining that her heart was likewise -touched. He had no right to suppose that her evidence was otherwise -than involuntary, the exact rendering of the truth to save a man’s -life. If he went further and believed that she loved him, he was -overstepping the bounds of probability. Love is an involuntary passion, -says an honored moralist: we cannot help it, but we can starve it -out. And Caleb had set himself to starve it out but it may be said -that he found the battle an unequal one. He was like a man who had -walked persistently, and of his own choice, in a sullen fog, and saw -suddenly, through a vast rent in the mist, the golden sunshine of -another day. The fog of his doubts and his unbelief had lifted on that -afternoon in court, only to settle down again in denser gloom. - -Meanwhile, the tumult of battle went on. He was once more leading the -anti-Eaton forces, leading them triumphantly now, and crash after crash -in financial circles told of the complete collapse of that bubble -which had been called the Eaton Investment Company. There is no keener -incentive to anger than money loss, as Judge Hollis said; there were -many who cried out against Caleb as the instigator of an investigation -which had culminated in almost universal ruin in the county. The wave -of popularity that had swept around him at the hour of his acquittal -was receding, and leaving him beached on the sands of public criticism. - -None of these things, however, greatly troubled the man himself; he -pursued his course with the same determination with which he had begun -it. He had foreseen unpopularity and met it with unshaken purpose. What -immediately concerned him was his plain duty, and his experience at -the time of his arrest and trial had inspired him with a pessimistic -unbelief in the clamorous plaudits of the masses. For, in a day, he -had dropped from the height of the popularity of his Cresset speech to -the degradation of a despised and suspected prisoner. Like all those -who have tasted the vicissitudes of life, they had no longer the same -terrors for him. He was stronger in his position now than ever, his -reputation was already growing beyond the borders of the State, but he -was less popular in doing an unwelcome duty than he had been as the -exponent of the new theories of investigation. A vivid recollection -of all that had passed in the last few weeks stirred his mind as he -walked up the trail to Broad Acres. Shot, who had become devoted to -Sammy, had followed him only a little way and then returned to his new -playmate, so Caleb was alone. He had avoided the road and ascended the -trail, because the woodland solitudes left his mind free to his own -meditations, and the bleak and russet aspect of the woods, the naked -trees and the brown leaves underfoot, in some delicate and subtle -manner, harmonized with his sober mood. The keen blue of the river -below him and the purple of the distant hills rested his eyes. He swung -on, his long easy stride carrying him fast, and in a few moments he -saw Kingdom-Come leaning on the fence at the side of the Broad Acres -vegetable garden. The negro was stripping the leaves off a cauliflower -and gazing curiously at Caleb Trench. - -“How’s the colonel?” Caleb asked, stopping a moment, and his glance -wandered toward the old house where even the jingo tree had dropped its -last golden leaves upon the grass. - -“He’s bettah, suh,” said Kingdom, “so de doctah says. I’se not so sure; -seems mighty po’ly ter me, Mistah Trench.” - -Caleb remembered that a negro never admits perfect health and felt -reassured. “Say to the colonel that I would be glad to be of any -service to him,” he said, and wanted to add Diana’s name but restrained -the impulse. - -“I sho will, Mistah Trench,” said Kingdom. “Cool day, suh, gwine ter be -cold, too; de moon dun hangs ter de north.” - -“I suppose that’s an infallible sign,” smiled Trench, as he turned away. - -“Fo’ de Lawd, ain’t yo’ nebber heerd dat?” Kingdom patted the -cauliflower affectionately, having squared off the remaining green -petals. “De moon hung north means cold, suh, an’ south et means hot, -jest ez sho’ ez yo’ gets er disappintment ef yo hangs annything on er -doah knob.” - -“I’ll try to remember both signs,” said Caleb good-naturedly. - -“Miss Diana’s up in de woods,” volunteered the negro, with that -innocence which sits so naturally on a black face. - -Caleb made no reply this time. He walked on, choosing the road, nor did -he look again toward the house. He had the unpleasant consciousness -that the negro had read him as easily as he himself read more profound -riddles in the exact sciences. - -He passed the last confines of Broad Acres and turned, involuntarily, -into the trail which led him to the spot where he had stood months -before with Diana and told her that he loved her. Afterwards he -had wondered at himself, that his pride had not revolted at the -confession, yet he had never altogether repented of it. There had been -some comfort in telling her the truth, the naked truth. He recalled the -look in her eyes in the court-room! He put that thought steadily away -and walked rapidly on. Another turn would show him the long glimpse of -Paradise Ridge. Before him the trail ascended under sweeping hemlock -boughs, beside him the brush rose breast high. Once he thought he heard -a crackle of twigs and turned sharply, but there was no one in sight. -Then, looking ahead, he saw Diana Royall. - -She was coming down the path alone, and the sunset sky behind her -darkened the outlines of her tall young figure until it was silhouetted -against the sky. He noticed that her dress was gray and that her large -black hat framed the fair oval of her face. As she drew nearer he -was aware of the gravity and sweetness of her expression. As yet the -distance was too great for speech and he did not hurry his step; there -was, perhaps, more joy in the thought of this meeting than in its -accomplishment. But he saw nothing but this picture, the mellow sky -behind it, the hemlock boughs above. - -Then, quite suddenly, he felt a stinging shock and heard a loud report, -as he reeled and fell back into darkness, the vision going out as -though a great black sponge had effaced life itself. - -Diana rushed to him; she had seen more than he, but no warning of hers -would have reached him in time, and now she did not think of herself, -or of any possible danger. She dropped on her knees beside him and -bent down to look into his face. His eyes were closed; she could not -tell if he breathed, and even while she looked she saw a dark red -stain on the breast of his coat. She uttered a low cry, and tried to -raise his head on her arm. She realized at last the power that his -very presence exerted, the influence that he had had over her from the -very first, that had made her yield again and again to a sense of his -mastery. She loved him. She no longer tried to deny it to herself, and -she felt that it was to her shame that no accusation against him could -shake her in her devotion. Whatever he had been she loved him; whatever -his faults, in her eyes there must be, there would be, an extenuation; -whatever his sins she could forgive them! Class prejudice counted for -nothing; she was his, and nothing in the world mattered to her in that -one blind moment of agony for his life. - -“Oh, God,” she prayed softly, “spare me this!” - -She was in despair, his head lay heavy on her arm, his blood stained -her hands, and she was alone. The wind stirred and a dead leaf -fluttered down. How still it was! To leave him and run for help seemed -her only resource, but to leave him! She could not do it! She thought -him dead, but not a tear came to her dry eyes; she looked down at his -white face and marked the lines of trouble and anxiety, the resolution -of the locked mouth and jaw. Did he breathe? “Oh, God!” she prayed -again. - -She remembered, too, that it was here that he had told her so abruptly -that he loved her. She, too, remembered that moment in the court-room, -and a dry sob of anguish shook her from head to foot. She bent down -suddenly and kissed him, but she could not shed a tear. - -Then, in the stillness, she heard wheels, and laying him gently down, -she ran through the underbrush and reached the road just below the -fork. It was Dr. Cheyney’s old buggy, and she cried to him that Caleb -Trench was shot and lying wounded in the trail. The old man got down -and followed her without a word, his lips set. They came up the trail -and found Trench lying as she had left him; he did not seem to breathe. -Dr. Cheyney knelt down and made a brief examination, then he looked -for something to stop the bleeding. Diana gave him a long light scarf -she had worn around her throat; she was quick and deft in her touch -and worked steadily to help the doctor; she had mastered herself. The -old man fumbling over Caleb drew out a bit of blood-stained paper and -glanced at it. Then he went on with his task. - -“Is he living?” Diana murmured at last. - -“I reckon I wouldn’t do this if he wasn’t,” snapped the doctor. Then he -rose from his knees. “You get into the buggy, Diana, and drive down to -the house for help; telephone to the hospital, we’ll want a stretcher.” - -“He’s coming to our house,” said Diana. - -Dr. Cheyney gave her a grim look. “All right,” he said, “but a -stretcher and two men. I wonder who in hell did this?” he added -fiercely. - -Diana had risen from her knees. “Zeb Bartlett,” she said. “I saw him -too late to cry a warning.” - -Dr. Cheyney’s face changed sharply. He handed the paper he had taken -from Trench to Diana. “I reckon that’s yours--now run!” he commanded. - -It seemed hours to Diana before she got help there. In reality it was -twenty minutes. The negroes improvised a stretcher and carried Caleb -solemnly down the hill and across the long lawns. Diana had gone ahead -to prepare the great west room for him, and when they brought him in, -still unconscious, the white bed was ready and the long table for -the operation, and she had telephoned for another surgeon from the -hospital. At eight o’clock that night they had found the bullet and -removed it, and there was a fighting chance for life. - -Diana, who had waited on the stairs to know the worst, said nothing. -In her own room she had looked at the blood-stained paper which Dr. -Cheyney had so strangely given her. Across it was written her own name -in her bold handwriting. She looked at it strangely, and then with a -stinging sense of shame; it was the receipt for six cents with which -she had mocked him long ago. And he had carried it all this time! Diana -laid her head down on her arms and burst into tears. - - - - -XXIX - - -THE agony of the night and the ensuing morning left Diana feeling -lifeless. Her only consolation was in the fact that her father was able -to be up and in his chair, and by nine o’clock they had received a -message that poor Jinny Eaton showed signs of recovering her senses. Of -Jacob nothing was heard, to her great relief. A trial and imprisonment -would have capped the climax of Colonel Royall’s mortification. She -did not know that Dr. Cheyney had saved her that. Nor did she tell the -doctor, nor any one, that she and Kingdom-Come had gone down the night -before to Caleb’s house to see to the welfare of Sammy and the dog. - -She had found Aunt Charity there and bribed her heavily to stay over -night, but Diana had no faith in Charity and another project was -shaping itself in her mind. She would have liked to consult her father, -but she could not trouble him and the trials of the last few months had -been developing Diana. All that was sweet and malleable in the girl’s -nature had crystallized into greater strength, and a greater sweetness, -too; she was no longer a girl, but a woman, and her greatness of -heart showed in the breadth of her charity. She had sat down in the -old leather chair in Caleb’s office and lifted Jean Bartlett’s child -to her knee without a shudder of repulsion at that shameful story. -Instead, she touched the child’s head tenderly and crooned over it, -womanlike. Oh, if Caleb could have seen her in the old worn chair! - -Her own thoughts were filled with him to the exclusion of everything -else on earth. She was almost frightened at the strength of her feeling -for him, he seemed even to put aside her anxiety for her father, his -life was her one passionate petition to Heaven. And she was conscious -now that she wanted not only his life, but his love. - -Dr. Cheyney had installed a trained nurse, and there was a young -surgeon from the hospital in charge. Diana’s only privilege was to go -to the door and inquire, and wait upon the doctors. She did this to the -exclusion of the negroes, who considered it their duty to remonstrate -with Miss Diana. In the afternoon Dr. Cheyney told her that Caleb -had borne the operation so well that there was much hope. Then Diana -went out bareheaded into the deserted grounds and wandered about them -aimlessly, trying to regain her natural composure. - -They had arrested Zeb Bartlett, and he had given his sister’s disgrace -as his reason for shooting Caleb,--a belated vengeance, but one that -suited the public appetite for scandal. Diana had heard it unmoved. -In that dreadful moment when he lay at her feet, seemingly dead, -she had forgotten Jean Bartlett, and even now, nothing in the world -mattered to her but his life. Her face flushed with shame for her own -indifference, the deadening of every instinct but her agonizing anxiety -for his life. She had learned that love is greater than judgment -and as great as mercy. She walked slowly along the path between the -box-bordered flower-beds; here and there a late rose bloomed in the -autumn sunshine, and in the arbor the great ungathered clusters of -grapes hung purple, sweetened by frost. - -Before her was the same vista which showed from the Shut Room, and she -saw the river. That view recalled the room and the days her father had -sat there before his illness, and she thought of her mother with that -vague sweet regret with which we think of the unknown dead whom we -would have loved. Then she looked up and saw a woman coming toward her -from the gate. She was a stranger, yet Diana was instinctively aware of -a familiarity in her bearing and her gait. She stood waiting for her -approach, looking keenly at her face, which was beautiful though it -looked a little haggard and worn. The woman came on, looking eagerly, -in her turn, at Diana. For one so apparently wealthy and at ease, her -manner was almost timid; there was a hesitation even in its eagerness -as though she feared her welcome. The girl saw it and was faintly -surprised. In another moment the stranger was in front of her, and she -saw that she breathed like a person who had been running or was in -great trepidation. She stopped, and involuntarily her hand went to her -heart. - -“You are Diana Royall,” she said abruptly. - -Diana looked at her gently, vaguely alarmed, though at what she could -not divine. Her first thought, strangely enough, was a message from -Jacob, and her manner grew cold. “Yes,” she said quietly, “I am Diana -Royall; can I do anything for you?” - -The stranger hesitated; then her natural manner, which was full of -self-command, asserted itself. “I am Mrs. Fenwick. I know you do not -know me, but”--she glanced down the long garden path--“will you walk -with me a moment?” she said. “I have something to say to you.” - -Diana assented reluctantly. Her own heart was behind the half-closed -shutters in that upper room, and at another time she would have thought -the request at once remarkable and unwarranted. They turned and walked -together down the garden path, and as Diana stooped to unlatch the -wicket gate which shut off the rose garden from the larger grounds, her -companion shaded her eyes with her hand and looked off toward the river. - -“There have been some changes in this view, I think,” she said -abruptly, her eyes on the landscape; “the river was more obscured by -trees.” - -“The railroad cut cleared a bit of forest and gave us a finer view,” -replied Diana, and then she glanced quickly at her visitor, who was -evidently familiar with the prospect. - -“I thought so,” said Mrs. Fenwick softly, “this view is familiar; it -is the same that one sees from your mother’s old room.” - -Diana stood still, with her hand on the wicket. “Did you know my -mother?” she asked quickly. - -The older woman turned and looked fully at her. She had been very -beautiful in her first youth, and Diana was conscious of a charm at -once subtle and persuasive. “Is your mother dead?” she asked gently. - -The girl was deeply perplexed. “She died twenty years ago,” she replied. - -“She died twenty years ago?” her visitor repeated dreamily, looking -away again. “It may be so! She may have died to this life here, to this -place, to these people, but believe me, Diana, she is not dead.” - -They had passed through the wicket and were standing on the lower lawn. -Instinctively Diana drew further away from her; she did not understand -her, and she disliked her familiarity, but as yet she was unalarmed. -“My mother died in that room up there,” she said, with gentle dignity, -“and my father has mourned her ever since, and has taught me to mourn -her, too.” - -A deep flush passed over Mrs. Fenwick’s face, and her hands trembled a -little as they hung clasped before her. Diana, watching her, noticed -it and noticed the grace of her pose. The girl thought that the elder -woman never forgot herself, that her actions, even her gestures, were -considered, that there was something artificial in them, yet her -emotion was evident and unfeigned. - -“It was good of him,” said Mrs. Fenwick slowly, “it was, I suppose, a -beautiful idea, but it was an untruthful one. Diana, I am your mother.” - -Diana thought her mad. She drew away from her again, and this time -with instinctive repugnance, yet she was pitiful. This was evidently -a delusion; the woman was insane and to be pitied and dealt with -compassionately. - -“You are mistaken, Mrs. Fenwick,” she said gently; “my mother is dead.” - -“I tell you that I am your mother!” cried Letty, with sudden passion. -“Your mother never died; she was wicked, she ran away from your father -and from you with another man. I am that wretched woman, Diana; forgive -me!” - -“I think you are quite mad,” said Diana coldly; “I am sure you are.” - -“Good God, she will not believe me!” Letty exclaimed; “how wonderful -the web of deception must have been; I did not know before that David -Royall was a liar!” - -“Silence!” Diana towered. “Do not dare to say one word against my -father here!” she commanded. - -“Ah, it was for this he wrought so well!” said Mrs. Fenwick bitterly, -“to shut out the sinner. Diana, forgive me, look at me; is there no -likeness in my face to my own picture? There was a large one of me in -my first youth. Don’t you know me?” - -Diana was very pale. “There is no picture of my mother,” she said -deliberately, “and I do not believe you are my mother.” - -Letty Fenwick looked at her despairingly. She had come with the mad -impulse of affection, long pent up in her warped and passionate -heart; she had wanted her daughter, and she had never dreamed that -her daughter would not want her. That, instead, the girl’s outraged -feelings would leap up in defense of the deserted father; that, never -having known a living mother, her mind had created an image at once -beautiful and noble, and that this revelation shocked every instinct of -her nature. The older woman was vividly aware of the girl’s instinctive -aversion, of her reluctance to acknowledge her dawning conviction, and -in that very reluctance Letty read her own exile and defeat. She was, -indeed, dead. Colonel Royall’s curious way of guarding her secret from -her daughter had absolutely estranged her forever. He had accomplished -through forbearance and love what he could never have accomplished -through passion and revenge; she was forever dead to her own child. -This, then, was the punishment. She stood looking at Diana in a kind of -dull despair. - -“You are very beautiful,” she said, “more beautiful than I was at -your age, Diana, and I thank Heaven that you will not be like me. You -are stronger, braver, less foolish. I was both foolish and wicked; I -deserted you, but, oh, my child, I suffered for it! And I am asking -for so little now,--your love, that I may see you sometimes, your -forgiveness!” - -Her voice was full of pleading; it had a sweetness, too, at once -touching and eloquent. Diana returned her look sadly. Conviction had -been growing in her heart; a hundred little things sprang to mind to -confirm this strange story,--hints, suggestions of Jinny Eaton’s, -inexplicable actions of her father. It might be true, but she was -appalled at the stillness of her heart. She had loved her mother’s -memory, but, confronted with this strange woman, she found no response. -She battled against conviction; the shattering of her beautiful dream -of an ideal mother was bitter indeed. - -“I cannot believe it!” she exclaimed, “I cannot believe it!” - -Her mother drew a long breath. “You mean you will not believe it,” she -said quietly, “because you would rather repudiate the sinner! I do -not blame you. But it is true, I am your mother.” She broke off, her -parched lips quivered, but she shed no tears. “Diana,” she said after a -moment, “thank God that you are not like me--and forgive me.” - -“I cannot believe you!” reiterated Diana. - -But as she spoke they both saw Dr. Cheyney crossing the lawn to the -house, and her mother beckoned to him. The old man came reluctantly, -instinctively aware of the cause of the summons. - -“Dr. Cheyney,” Mrs. Fenwick said with forced composure, “tell Diana -that I am her mother.” - -The old man stood with his hand at his chin; he was very pale. Diana -looked up and met his eyes, and a slow painful blush went up to her -hair. - -“She is your mother,” said the doctor abruptly, and turned his back. - -As he walked away Letty Fenwick held out both hands pleadingly. -“Diana,” she said softly, “will you kiss me?” - -The hot tears came into Diana’s eyes and fell slowly on her pale -cheeks. “Mother!” she said, in a choked voice. - -Her mother caught her in her arms and kissed her. “My child!” she -murmured, “my child, can you forgive me?” - -Diana could not speak, her mother was weeping. “Dear girl,” she said, -“I’m rich, I know your father’s in trouble; let me help you, come to -me. Oh, Diana, I have longed for you!” - -“And leave my father?” Diana’s pale face was stern. “Leave him in -sorrow and loss and loneliness? Never!” - -“Ah!” said her mother bitterly, “you love him; it is he who has all -your heart!” - -“I love him dearly,” said the girl, “now more than ever.” - -Letty turned away. “He is revenged!” she said passionately. - -Diana took a step nearer and laid her hand on her arm. “Mother,” she -said quietly, “I will try to love you also, but remember that for -twenty years I have known only a beautiful image of you that his love -erected to save your memory for me. But I will try to love you, I will -certainly come to see you, I will do anything I can, but only on one -condition--” - -“My God!” cried Letty passionately, “you make a condition? You bargain -with me--I must beg for and buy your love?” - -“No,” replied Diana, “love you cannot buy, but I will do all I can, if -you will promise me never to let this great sorrow mar his life again, -if you will help me guard him, if you will remember how beautifully he -shielded your name for your child.” - -Letty covered her face with her hands. “Alas!” she said, “you have -found a way to punish me, but I promise, Diana.” - -“He has been ill,” Diana went on hurriedly, “he has been in trouble, he -needs me every moment, and I love him dearly; for his sake, because he -wishes it, I love you also.” - -Mrs. Fenwick still wept; involuntarily they turned together and walked -slowly toward the gate. “I want to see him,” she said at last, “I want -to ask his forgiveness.” - -“You have it,” said Diana simply. “I dare not take you to him now, not -to-night. Dr. Cheyney must tell him, I--I cannot. But his forgiveness, -it is yours already.” - -Letty looked back over the house. A thousand haunting memories swept -over her, and she shivered. “Diana,” she said, “I am rich, I must help -you now.” - -Diana’s pale face crimsoned; her father’s honor had never seemed more -sacred to her. “No,” she said simply, “you cannot.” - -Her mother met her eyes and turned away abruptly. At the gate she put -out her hand blindly and touched Diana’s; the girl took it and kissed -her. - -“Forgive me--mother!” she murmured. - -Letty clung to her a moment and then turned to go out alone. “My sin -has found me out!” she cried bitterly, and dropped her veil over her -face. - -Diana, standing in the gate, watched her go away alone. In her own -anguish she was scarcely conscious of the tragic picture of the exile. -In moments so poignant with feeling the great lesson of life is lost. -Diana had instinctively obeyed the impulse of love and duty, for once -irreconcilable with mercy, and she was unaware that she had been an -instrument of one woman’s punishment. She went back to the house and -found her father alone. Every impulse of her heart clamored to tell him -that she knew, to sympathize, to go to him for comfort, as she had all -her life. But he looked up as she entered. - -“Diana,” he said gently, “you look to-day as your mother did at your -age.” - -Diana slipped down on the arm of his chair and threw her arms around -his neck. “Was she beautiful, father?” she asked quietly. - -“Very, dear, like you,” he said; for twenty years he had woven his -simple romance. - -Diana laid her cheek against his. “Thank you, dear,” she said, “for her -memory--we will always love it together.” - - - - -XXX - - -WHEN Dr. Cheyney came down-stairs he found Colonel Royall alone, and he -was able to reassure him about the patient in the west room. - -“He’s going to live,” he said; “he’s had a close squeak, but he’ll -pull through unless something else happens. Lucky thing, too, for Zeb -Bartlett.” - -“That poor boy is an idiot,” said the colonel reflectively. “I can’t -see what he did it for?” - -“Mad at Caleb for one thing,” said Dr. Cheyney, “has been for some time -because he couldn’t beg from him all the while. Then he was set on, had -a pistol given him, I reckon.” - -“Eh?” exclaimed the colonel, startled. - -“Reckon so,” said the doctor mildly; he did not add that in the -Commonwealth attorney’s office it was known to be Jacob Eaton’s pistol; -“got some fool notion about his sister.” - -“That’s a pretty bad business,” said Colonel Royall. - -“Quite so!” agreed the doctor dryly. - -At that moment the door opened and Diana came in; she was leading a -child by the hand, and a dog followed her. Dr. Cheyney took off his -spectacles. - -“I’ll be jiggered!” he said abruptly. - -Colonel Royall smiled faintly. “She would have her way,” he said -apologetically. “I objected, but Diana rules the roost.” - -Diana’s sad eyes met the doctor’s with a flash of humor. “I shan’t let -you stay if you worry him,” she said. - -The doctor held out his hand to Sammy, but Sammy refused to leave -Diana; he clung to her skirts and hid his face in the folds. - -“Seems to take kindly to you, Diana,” remarked the doctor. - -She blushed. “He’s friendly enough,” she explained, “if you give him -pennies.” - -“Wants a penny!” said Sammy instantly, his tousled yellow head -appearing from Diana’s skirt. - -Dr. Cheyney explored his pockets and found a new one. “Come and get -it,” he said. - -Sammy moved over slowly and doubtfully, taking two steps backward to -one forward every time. - -“Suspicious, eh?” said the doctor, displaying the penny at a nearer -view. - -Sammy fell upon it and ran back to Diana, clasping it close in his fist. - -“An embryo financier,” said the colonel, musing, “and the dog isn’t -what one would call a prize-winner,” he added. - -“Caleb took ’em both in,” said the doctor; “he’s made that way. After a -while we’ll understand him.” - -“Some people say that he had good reason to take in the boy,” remarked -Colonel Royall without malice. - -“Father,” said Diana, “I wouldn’t have believed it of you, talking -scandal, and he’s our guest!” - -“That’s right, keep him down, Diana,” said the doctor; “the fact is -there’s nothing so cruel as people’s tongues. Now I know Sammy’s father -and sometimes I’m tempted, sore tempted, to go and post it by the -wayside.” - -“I wish you would!” said Diana with sudden feeling, “it’s only just -to--to Mr. Trench.” - -“That’s so--she’s right, William,” said her father, half smiling. - -Dr. Cheyney reflected; his lined old face lost some of its whimsical -humor, but it gained in sympathy and strength. “I’ve held my tongue to -shield others,” he said at last, “to spare the feelings of a family I -love. What would you do about it, David? Do you think it’s right to -plaster a scandal on to folks?” - -Diana glanced quickly at her father, keenly aware of his concealment -and that this all must touch him to the quick. The old man looked very -old indeed. - -“I don’t think it’s right to let the thing attach itself to Mr. Trench -if you know he’s innocent,” he said at length. - -“I reckon he’d be satisfied to be justified here,” said Dr. Cheyney, -his eyes resting on Diana as she bent down and caressed Sammy. - -“You’ll have to make it public to be of any use to him now,” said -Colonel Royall, “the other story has been in every newspaper in the -State.” - -“I know it,” said Dr. Cheyney, “but, David, it will come home to you -here. Sammy’s father is Jacob Eaton.” - -There was silence for a few moments, and then Colonel Royall said: -“It is singular that that young man has managed to inflict so many -mortifications upon his family. Poor Jinny! She was always quoting him -as a pink of propriety.” - -“The result of a mollycoddle,” said the doctor shortly. “Now you know -the facts, David, and it’s up to you. Shall I tell them?” - -Colonel Royall meditated. “Poor Jinny!” he said again, “she’s been so -proud of him, and now--one blow on another, no wonder she’s given up. -Poor Jinny!” - -“Father,” said Diana, “we’ve no right to consider even Cousin Jinny, -only Mr. Trench.” - -The force of her conviction showed through her reserve. She felt that -Caleb Trench had borne enough at the hands of their relatives, and that -he should be the scapegoat of one of Jacob’s sins was too much. - -Colonel Royall raised his bowed head. “She’s right, William,” he said, -pathetically resigned; “tell it to the world.” - -Dr. Cheyney rose. “Well, it has seemed like kicking a man who was -down,” he remarked, “but, as Diana says, there is Caleb Trench.” - -Diana followed him out into the hall. “Dr. Cheyney,” she said, “why -did no one tell me about my mother?” - -The old man put his hand on her shoulder. “Diana,” he said, “it was -David’s wish, and we all respected it. I wish”--he paused--“I wish -Letty had not come back. But she wanted to see you. Natural enough, I -reckon, only she ought to have been natural in that way at first.” - -“It was cruel not to tell me,” said Diana, “but I will not tell him -so--dear father!” - -The doctor looked at her thoughtfully. “You’re a good girl, Diana,” he -said. - -They walked together to the door. “Doctor, do you believe that--that my -mother is unhappy?” she asked at last. “I could not go to her: I will -not leave him.” - -“Unhappy? No, child, not more so than others,” said the old man. “She’s -got to bear her burden, Diana, that’s the law of life. Don’t you fret; -she’s rich, courted, influential, I’ve known it for years.” - -“I don’t see how she could treat my father so!” cried the girl. - -“Thank God, you never will!” said the doctor with conviction. - -“She wants to see him,” the girl faltered, “I--you--” - -“I’ll tell him,” said William Cheyney. - - - - -XXXI - - -COLONEL ROYALL was sitting by the great fireplace in his library. -Daylight was failing fast at the windows, and the long bough of a -hemlock sweeping across the one toward the west was outlined against -the whitening sky. The colonel watched it as it swayed. Once and awhile -he turned and looked toward the door, his fine old hands tightening on -the carved arms of his chair. - -Twenty years ago he had seen her last in this room, and he was to see -her again to-night. A singular feeling tightened about his heart. When -we have watched through a long vigil with a great and agonizing sorrow, -when we have rebelled against it, and battled and fought with the air, -in our vain outcry against its injustice, when we have longed and wept -and prayed for release in vain, and then, at last, have laid it in its -ashes and stood beside that open grave, which yawns sooner or later in -every past, then--the coming of its ghost is bitter with the bitterness -of death. - -It was the coming of the ghost for which Colonel Royall waited in -the gathering dusk, the ghost who must walk over the white ashes of -his love and his outraged honor. For twenty years he had hidden -the mother’s sin from the daughter, he had made her memory sweet to -her child. And his requital? She had tried to rob him of that one -comfort of his life, to take his daughter away, to estrange them in -his hour of need. In that hour even that gentle and simple heart -knew its own bitterness. He recalled every incident of that unhappy -past, he recalled her beauty and her indifference; again and again -he had questioned himself, had the fault been his? He had loved much -and forgiven much, yet it might be that he had given her cause for -weariness. Had the narrow routine of life which made his happiness -fretted her? If he had let her spread her butterfly wings in other -and gayer climes, would she have been more content to return at last? -Perhaps,--he did not know. - -Fallacious thought! No human being can hold captive another’s will -except by that one magic talisman, and love for David Royall had never -really lived in his wife’s heart. Marriage to some women is a brilliant -fête, and a preventive of the reproach which they fondly believe would -attach to them in single-blessedness; marriage is a poultice for the -ills of society, and the latch-key to the social front door, permitting -more freedom of entrance and exit. Yet it is a poultice which some are -exceedingly anxious to tear off after a short application. The young -and beautiful Letty had tried it twice and was still suffering from its -effects; she had found it, in both instances, grown cold and lumpy. -Yet, so adorable had been her youthful ways, so sweet and engaging her -manner, that this poor man, who had been the husband of her youth, -sat in the twilight, searching his heart again for reasons for her -discontent, no living man having really mastered the ways of woman. - -Night had fallen in the room, but the hemlock bough was still outlined -against the pane, for the moon was rising. Presently, Kingdom-Come came -in softly and lit the tall old candelabrum on the mantel; he was going -on, with a noiseless step, to the other lights, but the colonel stopped -him. - -“Has no one come yet?” he asked, as the negro, leaving the lamps, -arranged the fire. - -“Not yet, Marse David.” - -The colonel sighed inaudibly, and Kingdom retreated, not over pleased. -He, too, knew that some one was expected. He had been with the Royalls -from his birth. - -A light step came down the hall, and the colonel held his breath. It -was Diana, but she did not come in; he heard her ascending the stairs. -Then, in the long silence, the hall clock chimed seven, the outer door -opened, and the colonel again heard steps come across the tessellated -floor of the old hall. His long white hands tightened on the arms of -his chair, the ghost of his happiness was coming! He had loved greatly, -he was to look again on the face of her who, loving him not, had -betrayed him. Kingdom opened the library door, stood aside for her, -and closed it behind her. After twenty years they stood here alone -together--face to face. - -The colonel shaded his eyes and looked into the fire; the grave of -his love yawned deep, a shudder ran through him. Letitia had remained -standing by the door, the mature elegance of her figure, the slightly -bent head, recalled nothing when he finally looked up. She had left him -a mere girl; she returned a worn woman of the world; the suggestions of -her past, gay and unhappy, seemed to penetrate the classic mask of her -still beautiful face. He knew her even less than Dr. Cheyney. He made -an attempt to rise, failed and, sinking back, motioned her to a seat. - -She took it without a word, turning her face aside to avoid the light -of that one tall candelabrum. In the old room, facing the man who had -aged so greatly in these heavy years, she was ashamed. She had planned -a dozen glib speeches, but her parched lips refused to utter them. -She put her ungloved hand to her throat with a gesture that was like -one who struggled for breath, and Colonel Royall noticed the flash of -the jewels that she wore on her slender fingers. A little thing will -sometimes turn the balance of thought, and the flash of Letty’s jewels -recalled her former husband to himself. He remembered the divorce and -her marriage. Between them the white ashes of the past fell thick as -snow. He could dimly see through them the outlines of her matured and -hardened beauty, and the suggestions of that life in which he had -played so small a part. He thanked God devoutly that now they were face -to face he saw no likeness to Diana. - -To the woman, his silence, his wan age, the lines that suffering had -mapped on his proud face, were unendurable. She spoke at last, leaning -toward him, her clasped hands trembling on her knee. “David, I have -come to ask your forgiveness.” - -The colonel returned her look with a new sad serenity. “It’s a long -time to wait,” he said. - -She made a little involuntary movement, as if she wanted to go to him, -for she pitied him all at once, with the same sweep of emotion that -she had once abhorred him, loving another man. “I have wanted it for -twenty years,” she said, and then added impulsively: “I did not half -understand how much you loved me--until I heard how you had hidden -it all from Diana. At first I was angry, I thought you did it to -estrange her from the thought of her mother. Then I realized that you -were covering my disgrace, and--and it has broken down my pride!” She -stopped with a little sob. “David, will you forgive me?” - -“I forgave you twenty years ago, Letitia,” he replied; “you are Diana’s -mother.” - -The woman looked at him longingly. “She has been--she is much to you?” - -“She is all I have,” said Colonel Royall. - -The shamed tears welled up in her splendid eyes, her lip trembled like -a child’s. “I have nothing!” she sobbed wildly; “I am bankrupt!” and -she dropped her head on her hands. - -He looked over at her with compassion, once he passed his hand lightly -across his eyes. He felt the absolute restraint that comes to one whose -love has been lightly prized; he was nothing to her, it was not for -him to comfort her, while Letitia, cowering in her chair, thought him -cold-hearted, unforgiving, a proud Royall to the core. Thus are we -misinterpreted by those who love us not. - -“She cares nothing for me!” she sobbed, “you have taught her to love a -dead woman!” - -“I would gladly have taught her to love her mother,” the colonel said -quietly, “but how could I begin the lesson? By telling her that you had -deserted her?” - -She rose at that and stood looking at him, through her tears. “You have -had your revenge!” she said wildly, “you have had it a thousand times -over in that one reproach.” - -“Letitia,” he said gently, “I never desired revenge. I would have -chastised the man who injured me and dishonored you, if I could have -done it without dragging your name before the world. Other revenge I -never sought.” - -“You have it!” she cried again bitterly, “you have it; Diana despises -me, I read it in her clear eyes. You have brought her up to hate her -mother’s sin, so that when she knew it she would hate her mother.” - -The fine old hands tightened convulsively on the carved arms of his -chair. “Would you have had me bring her up to condone such sins?” he -asked her sternly, his blue eyes kindling. - -The shaft went home; its truth bit into her sore heart. “No,” she -breathed, hiding her face in her hands, shaking from head to foot. - -There was a long silence and then her voice. “I can bear no more!” - -He averted his eyes; her struggle hurt him deeply. Now and then he saw -her as she used to be; little reminders of her youth, her early beauty, -her gayety, crept through the change in her. His own vision was dimmed -with tears. After a while she grew more calm, and began to gather up -her belongings, her gloves, her purse, the boa that had slipped from -her shoulders, with those little familiar gestures that are a part -of a woman’s individuality, and yet all women share them. She was -gathering up the mantle of her worldliness, putting on the worn mask of -conventionality. - -“I am going,” she said, in a low voice that thrilled with feeling, “I -shall never see you again. Will you forgive me, David? I sinned and--I -have suffered, I am suffering still.” - -With an effort the old man rose and held out his hand. In the gesture -was all the stately courtesy of his race and his traditions. “I forgave -you long ago,” he said. - -She took his hand a moment, looked into his face, and read there the -death warrant of every hope she had that the trouble might be bridged, -her daughter come back to her. Her lips quivered and her shoulders rose -and fell with her quick breathing. - -“Thank you,” she said, and passed slowly down the room to the door. - -A log fell on the hearth, and the blaze, shooting up a tongue of flame, -illumined the colonel’s gaunt figure and whitened his face. At the -door Letitia turned and looked her last upon the man she had wronged, -who had forgiven her and yet, through the love of his daughter, had so -deeply smitten her. - -She went out weeping and alone. - - - - -XXXII - - -THREE weeks later Judge Hollis found Caleb able to walk about the -library. The wound had healed, but the fever and the struggle for life -had told. His tall figure was more gaunt than ever, and there were deep -hollows in his cheeks. He had prevailed with Judge Hollis to get the -case against Zeb Bartlett dismissed; the boy was half an idiot, and -the story of Jacob Eaton’s pistol and the money that Jacob had given -him before he fled, were too choice bits to get into the newspapers. -Dr. Cheyney had put down the scandal which made Zeb’s shot a revenge -for Jean, and there was an effort now to make things easy for poor -Jinny Eaton, who had gone to relatives in Virginia, still bewailing -Jacob and the influx of anarchists, which seemed to her to be the real -root of the trouble, as these incendiaries must have stirred up the -investigation which had wrecked Jacob before he had time to recover his -investments. For years she spoke of these alien influences which must -be responsible even for the fluctuations on Wall Street. Meanwhile, -Jacob had escaped to South America, and was heard of later as a -financier in Buenos Ayres. - -Judge Hollis announced his escape to Caleb. - -“Got off with a cool million, I reckon,” said the judge grimly; “by the -Lord Harry, I wish I could have laid him by the heels.” - -Caleb smiled faintly. He was leaning back in a big armchair by the -fire, and the window before him commanded a view of the mountain trail -where he had told Diana that he loved her. He had not yet recovered -from the miracle of finding himself under Colonel Royall’s roof. He -glanced now about the room and noticed the fine air of simplicity and -comfort; the deep-seated leather chairs, the old mahogany table, the -portraits of Colonel Royall’s mother and his grandfather in the uniform -of the Colonial Army on the walls. On the table was a great cluster of -roses from Diana’s hothouses. “I am glad Jacob went,” he said quietly. - -“Of course!” said the judge with sarcasm, “it’s my belief that William -Cheyney warned him in time. It’s like the old fool!” - -“Dear Dr. Cheyney!” said Caleb warmly. - -“Dear Dr. Fiddlesticks!” snapped the judge. “I reckon I know William; -we played alleys together when we were boys and I licked him about as -often as he licked me.” - -“The eternal bond of friendship,” smiled Caleb. - -“He’s got off Jacob and you got off Zeb Bartlett,” grumbled the judge, -“and if you keep on, at your present gait, you’ll be governor of this -State in two years. Then I suppose you and the doctor will empty the -penitentiary.” - -Caleb laughed. “I’ll get your help,” he said, “your heart isn’t as hard -as you pretend it is.” - -“A good many people think I haven’t got one,” said the judge; “I reckon -they don’t let you see the papers yet?” - -Caleb shook his head. - -The judge grinned. “And yesterday was the first Tuesday in November. -Drat ’em, I call that hard! I’ll tell you,” he leaned forward, his -fingers on Caleb’s knee, “the Republicans carried the State by a -plurality of ten thousand; Peter Mahan is elected.” - -Caleb’s amazement kept him silent. - -“Your fault, sir!” said the judge triumphantly, “you ripped the -Democracy in two, showed the machine, convicted the governor. By the -Lord Harry, boy, I voted the Republican ticket!” - -Caleb wrung the old man’s hand. “Now I know you love me, Judge!” he -said. - -It was then that the door opened and Diana appeared on the threshold, -bearing a little tray, Sammy at her skirts and Shot trailing behind -her. “Judge,” she said, “the doctor’s orders--twenty minutes and no -politics!” - -The judge got up and reached for his hat and cane. “I’m guilty, Diana!” -he cried. - -“Then you’ll have to go,” she said, and smiled across at the patient. - -It was only the third time Caleb had seen her, and he did not know how -often she had hung over him in agony when he lay unconscious. Diana, -meeting his eyes, turned crimson. She remembered, with a sudden panic, -that she had kissed him when she thought that he was dying! - -Meanwhile, the judge went out grumbling. He was too full of the -election to be silenced, and went to drink a mint julep with Colonel -Royall. Diana came back into the library leading Sammy. The dog had -bounded to his master and lay now on the hearthrug. Caleb stood by his -chair, pale but transformed. - -“You must not stand,” ordered Diana, as she set down the little tray -on the table and began to arrange his luncheon. “Kingdom is out and I -brought you some lunch myself,” she said simply. - -“You are very good to me,” said Caleb. - -She had turned away, and Sammy, who was devoted to her, had again -appropriated her hand. “You must not stand,” she repeated, “I will -never come here again if you cannot obey the doctor’s orders.” - -Caleb smiled. “I’d rather obey yours, Miss Royall,” he said, his eyes -following the two figures, the woman and the child. - -Half-way to the door Diana turned and let go the child’s detaining -fingers, coming toward him as if with some new resolve. She had never -looked more lovely in his eyes, though to him she had always been -an exquisite picture. The warm flood of November sunshine filling -the room, and the deeper glow on the hearth touched her and vivified -the buoyancy and freshness of her personality. Her chin was slightly -raised, and the delicate oval of her face glowed with feeling; it -seemed to him that her eyes were wonderful. - -“I want to ask your forgiveness,” she said. - -“My forgiveness?” he was taken aback, “you have done everything for me, -been everything to me; it is I who should ask forgiveness for having -been a burden here.” - -She put aside his thanks with a gesture at once gracious and -significant, and the sweetness of her smile arrested the words on -his lips. “Nevertheless I ask your pardon,” she said, “for--for my -stupidity, my ignorance, my want of manners long ago, when you came -here to the house and I treated you with discourtesy. You were always -fine; I was hateful. You must have despised me!” - -He smiled sadly. “I think you know that I did not,” he said. - -“I deserved it. But since then I have learned to value your friendship, -to honor you for the fight you have made.” - -He turned toward her; his tall gaunt figure seemed to have lost some of -its awkwardness, and the homely sweetness of his haggard face had never -been more apparent. “You know,” he paused, and then went on with deep -emotion, “I recognized then, I do still, the gap between our lives, but -it cannot change the one inevitable fact of my existence, my love for -you.” - -The color rose from her chin to the arch of her lovely brow, but -her lips quivered. “You know that we have lost almost all we had, -and--about my mother?” - -“I know,” he said simply, “Dr. Cheyney told me, and”--he looked -suddenly at Sammy and the dog--“your goodness to these, when you must -think--” - -She looked up, and their eyes met. “Did you think my heart was not big -enough for all?” she asked. - -Sudden joy leaped into his face, transfiguring it. “Diana,” he -exclaimed, “is it possible that through it all, in spite of it all, you -love me?” - -She smiled. “I think I always loved you, Caleb,” she said. - - -THE END - -[Illustration] - - - - -_A Stirring Story of Washington Society_ - -THE REAPING - -By MARY IMLAY TAYLOR - - With Frontispiece in color by George Alfred Williams - 12mo. 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PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM - - Illustrated by Will Foster. Cloth. $1.50 - -Mr. Oppenheim’s new story is a narrative of mystery and international -intrigue that carries the reader breathless from page to page. It is -the tale of the secret and world-startling methods employed by the -Emperor of Japan through Prince Maiyo, his close kinsman, to ascertain -the real reasons for the around-the-world cruise of the American -fleet. The American Ambassador in London and the Duke of Denvenham, an -influential Englishman, work hand in hand to circumvent the Oriental -plot, which proceeds mysteriously to the last page. From the time when -Mr. Hamilton Fynes steps from the _Lusitania_ into a special tug, in -his mad rush towards London, to the very end, the reader is carried -from deep mystery to tense situations, until finally the explanation is -reached in a most unexpected and unusual climax. - -No man of this generation has so much facility of expression, so many -technical resources, or so fine a power of narration as Mr. E. 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