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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-25 11:51:42 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0e6435 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69920 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69920) diff --git a/old/69920-0.txt b/old/69920-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 771aa63..0000000 --- a/old/69920-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5914 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Holly, by Ralph Henry Barbour - -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: Holly - The Romance of a Southern Girl - -Author: Ralph Henry Barbour - -Illustrator: Edwin F. Bayha - -Release Date: January 31, 2023 [eBook #69920] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOLLY *** - - - - - - HOLLY - - - - -[Illustration: HOLLY PLACED HER HAND IN HIS AND LEAPED LIGHTLY TO THE -GROUND] - - - - - [Illustration: title page] - - - - - HOLLY - - _The Romance of a Southern Girl_ - - - BY - RALPH HENRY BARBOUR - - AUTHOR OF “A MAID IN ARCADY,” “KITTY - OF THE ROSES,” “AN ORCHARD - PRINCESS,” ETC. - - - _With illustrations by_ - EDWIN F. BAYHA - - - [Illustration] - - - PHILADELPHIA & LONDON - J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - 1907 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1907 - BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY - - COPYRIGHT, 1907 - BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - - - Published October, 1907 - - - _Electrotyped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company - The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U. S. A._ - - - - - TO - JESSIE LATSHAW KING - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - HOLLY PLACED HER HAND IN HIS AND LEAPED LIGHTLY TO THE - GROUND _Frontispiece_ - - PRESENTLY THE NEW RENTAL AGREEMENT WAS SIGNED 144 - - THE MAJOR HELD THE LITTLE BUNCH OF LEAVES AND BERRIES OVER - HOLLY’S HEAD 217 - - “KEEP AWAY! YOU’VE KILLED HIM” 258 - - - - - HOLLY - - - - -I. - - -Holly’s eighteenth birthday was but a fortnight distant when the quiet -stream of her life, which since her father’s death six years before had -flowed placidly, with but few events to ripple its tranquil surface, -was suddenly disturbed.... - -To the child of twelve years death, because of its unfamiliarity -and mystery, is peculiarly terrible. At that age one has become too -wise to find comfort in the vague and beautiful explanations of -tearfully-smiling relatives――explanations in which Heaven is pictured -as a material region just out of sight beyond the zenith; too selfishly -engrossed with one’s own loneliness and terror to be pacified by the -contemplation of the radiant peace and beatitude attained by the -departed one in that ethereal and invisible suburb. And at twelve one -is as yet too lacking in wisdom to realize the beneficence of death. - -Thus it was that when Captain Lamar Wayne died at Waynewood, in his -fiftieth year, Holly, left quite alone in a suddenly empty world save -for her father’s sister, Miss India Wayne, grieved passionately and -rebelliously, giving way so abjectly to her sorrow that Aunt India, -fearing gravely for her health, summoned the family physician. - -[Illustration] - -“There is nothing physically wrong with her,” pronounced the Old -Doctor, “nothing that I can remedy with my poisons. You must get her -mind away from her sorrow, my dear Miss India. I would suggest that -you take her away for a time; give her new scenes; interest her in new -affairs. Meanwhile ... there is no harm....” The Old Doctor wrote a -prescription with his trembling hand ... “a simple tonic ... nothing -more.” - -So Aunt India and Holly went away. At first the thought of deserting -the new grave in the little burying-ground within sight of the house -moved Holly to a renewed madness of grief. But by the time Uncle -Randall had put their trunk and bags into the old carriage interest -in the journey had begun to assuage Holly’s sorrow. It was her first -journey into the world. Save for visits to neighboring plantations and -one memorable trip to Tallahassee while her father had served in the -State Legislature, she had never been away from Corunna. And now she -was actually going into another State! And not merely to Georgia, which -would have been a comparatively small event since the Georgia line ran -east and west only a bare half-dozen miles up the Valdosta road, but -away up to Kentucky, of which, since the Waynes had come from there in -the first part of the century, Holly had heard much all her life. - -As the carriage moved down the circling road Holly watched with -trembling lips the little brick-walled enclosure on the knoll. Then -came a sudden gush of tears and convulsive sobs, and when these had -passed they were under the live-oaks at the depot, and the train of -two cars and a rickety, asthmatic engine, which ran over the six-mile -branch to the main line, was posing importantly in front of the -weather-beaten station. - -Holly’s pulses stirred with excitement, and when, a quarter of an hour -later,――for Aunt India believed in being on time,――she kissed Uncle Ran -good-bye, her eyes were quite dry. - -That visit had lasted nearly three months, and for awhile Holly had -been surfeited with new sights and new experiences against which no -grief, no matter how poignant, could have been wholly proof. When, -on her return to Waynewood, she paid her first visit to her father’s -grave, the former ecstasy of grief was absent. In its place was a -tender, dim-eyed melancholy, something exaltedly sacred and almost -sweet, a sentiment to be treasured and nourished in reverent devotion. -And yet I think it was not so much the journey that accomplished this -end as it was a realization which came to her during the first month of -the visit. - -[Illustration] - -In her first attempts at comforting the child, and many times since, -Aunt India had reminded Holly that now that her father had reached -Heaven he and her mother were together once more, and that since they -had loved each other very dearly on earth they were beyond doubt very -happy in Paradise. Aunt India assured her that it was a beautiful -thought. But it had never impressed Holly as Miss India thought it -should. Possibly she was too self-absorbed in her sorrow to consider -it judicially. But one night she had a dream from which she awoke -murmuring happily in the darkness. She could not remember very clearly -what she had dreamed, although she strove hard to do so. But she knew -that it was a beautiful dream, a dream in which her father and her -mother,――the wonderful mother of whom she had no recollection,――had -appeared to her hand in hand and had spoken loving, comforting words. -For the first time she realized Aunt India’s meaning; realized how -very, very happy her father and mother must be together in Heaven, -and how silly and selfish she had been to wish him back. All in the -instant there, in the dim silence, the dull ache of loneliness which -had oppressed her for months disappeared. She no longer seemed alone; -somewhere,――near at hand,――was sympathy and love and heart-filling -comradeship. Holly lay for awhile very quiet and happy in the great -four-poster bed, and stared into the darkness with wide eyes that swam -in grateful tears. Then she fell into a sound, calm sleep. - -She did not tell Aunt India of her dream; not because there was any -lack of sympathy between them, but because to have shared it would have -robbed it of half its dearness. For a long, long time it was the most -precious of her possessions, and she hugged it to her and smiled over -it as a mother over her child. And so I think it was the dream that -accomplished what the Old Doctor could not,――the dream that brought, -as dreams so often do, Heaven very close to earth. Dreams are blessed -things, be they day-dreams or dreams of the night; and even the ugly -ones are beneficent, since at waking they make by contrast reality more -endurable. - -If Aunt India never learned the cause she was at least quick to note -the result. Holly’s thin little cheeks borrowed tints from the Duchess -roses in the garden, and Aunt India graciously gave the credit to -Kentucky air, even as she drew her white silk shawl more closely about -her slender shoulders and shivered in the unaccustomed chill of a -Kentucky autumn. - -Then followed six tranquil years in which Holly grew from a small, -long-legged, angular child to a very charming maiden of eighteen, -dainty with the fragrant daintiness of a southern rosebud; small of -stature, as her mother had been before her, yet possessed of a gracious -dignity that added mythical inches to her height; no longer angular but -gracefully symmetrical with the soft curves of womanhood; with a fair -skin like the inner petal of a La France rose; with eyes warmly, deeply -brown, darkened by large irises; a low, broad forehead under a wealth -of hair just failing of being black; a small, mobile mouth, with lips -as freshly red as the blossoms of the pomegranate tree in the corner -of the yard, and little firm hands and little arched feet as true to -beauty as the needle to the pole. God sometimes fashions a perfect -body, and when He does can any praise be too extravagant? - -For the rest, Holly Wayne at eighteen――or, to be exact, a fortnight -before――was perhaps as contradictory as most girls of her age. -Warm-hearted and tender, she could be tyrannical if she chose; -dignified at times, there were moments when she became a breath-taking -madcap of a girl,――moments of which Aunt India strongly but patiently -disapproved; affectionate and generous, she was capable of showing a -very pretty temper which, like mingled flash of lightning and roar of -thunder, was severe but brief; tractable, she was not pliant, and from -her father she had inherited settled convictions on certain subjects, -such for instance as Secession and Emancipation, and an accompanying -dash of contumacy for the protection of them. - -She was fond of books, and had read every sombre-covered volume of -the British Poets from fly-leaf to fly-leaf. She preferred poetry to -prose, but when the first was wanting she put up cheerfully with the -latter. The contents of her father’s modest library had been devoured -with a fine catholicity before she was sixteen. Recent books were few -at Corunna, and had Holly been asked to name her favorite volume of -fiction she would have been forced to divide the honor between certain -volumes of The Spectator, St. Elmo, and The Wide, Wide World. She was -intensely fond of being out of doors; even in her crawling days her -negro mammy had found it a difficult task to keep her within walls; and -so her reading had ever been _al fresco_. Her favorite place was under -the gnarled old fig-tree at the end of the porch, where, perched in -a comfortable crotch of trunk and branch, or asway in a hammock, she -spent many of her waking hours. When the weather kept her indoors, -she never thought of books at all. Those stood with her for filtered -sunlight, green-leaf shadows, and the perfume-laden breezes. - -Her education, begun lovingly and sternly by her father, had ended with -a four-years’ course at a neighboring Academy, supplying her with as -much knowledge as Captain Wayne would have considered proper for her. -He had held to old-fashioned ideas in such matters, and had considered -the ability to quote aptly from Pope or Dryden of more appropriate -value to a young woman than a knowledge of Herbert Spencer’s absurdities -or a bowing acquaintance with Differential Calculus. So Holly graduated -very proudly from the Academy, looking her sweetest in white muslin and -lavender ribbons, and was quite, quite satisfied with her erudition and -contentedly ignorant of many of the things that fit into that puzzle -which we are pleased to call Life. - -And now, in the first week of November in the year 1898, the tranquil -stream of her existence was about to be disturbed. Although she could -have no knowledge of it, as yet, Fate was already poising the stone -which, once dropped into that stream, was destined to cause disquieting -ripples, perplexing eddies, distracting swirls and, in the end, the -formation of a new channel. And even now the messenger of Fate was -limping along with the aid of his stout cane, coming nearer and nearer -down the road from the village under the shade of the water-oaks, a -limp and a tap for every beat of Holly’s unsuspecting heart. - - - - -II. - - -Holly sat on the back porch, her slippered feet on the topmost step -of the flight leading to the “bridge” and from thence to the yard. -She wore a simple white dress and dangled a blue-and-white-checked -sun-bonnet from the fingers of her right hand. Her left hand was very -pleasantly occupied, since its pink palm cradled Holly’s chin. Above -the chin Holly’s lips were softly parted, disclosing the tips of three -tiny white teeth; above the mouth, Holly’s eyes gazed abstractedly -away over the roofs of the buildings in the yard and the cabins behind -them, over the tops of the Le Conte pear-trees in the back lot, over -the fringe of pines beyond, to where, like a black speck, a buzzard -circled and dropped and circled again above a distant hill. I doubt if -Holly saw the buzzard. I doubt if she saw anything that you or I could -have seen from where she sat. I really don’t know what she did see, for -Holly was day-dreaming, an occupation to which she had become somewhat -addicted during the last few months. - -The mid-morning sunlight shone warmly on the back of the house. Across -the bridge, in the kitchen, Aunt Venus was moving slowly about in -the preparation of dinner, singing a revival hymn in a clear, sweet -falsetto: - - “Lord Gawd of Israel, - Lord Gawd of Israel, - Lord Gawd of Israel, - I’s gwan to meet you soon!” - -To the right, in front of the disused office, a half-naked morsel of -light brown humanity was seated in the dirt at the foot of the big -sycamore, crooning a funny little accompaniment to his mother’s song, -the while he munched happily at a baked sweet potato and played a -wonderful game with two spools and a chicken leg. Otherwise the yard -was empty of life save for the chickens and guineas and a white cat -asleep on the roof of the well-house. Save for Aunt Venus’s chant and -Young Tom’s crooning (Young Tom to distinguish him from his father), -the morning world was quite silent. The gulf breeze whispered in the -trees and scattered the petals of the late roses. A red-bird sang a -note from the edge of the grove and was still. Aunt Venus, fat and -forty, waddled to the kitchen door, cast a stern glance at Young Tom -and a softer one at Holly, and disappeared again, still singing: - - “Lord Gawd of Israel, - Lord Gawd of Israel, - Lord Gawd of Israel, - Wash all mah sins away!” - -Back of Holly the door stood wide open, and at the other end of the -broad, cool hall the front portal was no less hospitably placed. And so -it was that when the messenger of Fate limped and thumped his way up -the steps, crossed the front porch and paused in the hall, Holly heard -and leaped to her feet. - -“Is anyone at home in this house?” called the messenger. - -Holly sped to meet him. - -“Good-morning, Uncle Major!” - -Major Lucius Quintus Cass changed his cane to his left hand and shook -hands with Holly, drawing her to him and placing a resounding kiss on -one soft cheek. - -“The privilege of old age, my dear,” he said; “one of the few things -which reconcile me to gray hairs and rheumatism.” Still holding her -hand, he drew back, his head on one side and his mouth pursed into a -grimace of astonishment. “Dearie me,” he said ruefully, with a shake -of his head, “where’s it going to stop, Holly? Every time I see you I -find you’ve grown more radiant and lovely than before! ’Pears to me, my -dear, you ought to have some pity for us poor men. Gad, if I was twenty -years younger I’d be down on my knees this instant!” - -Holly laughed softly and then drew her face into an expression of -dejection. - -“That’s always the way,” she sighed. “All the real nice men are either -married or think they’re too old to marry. I reckon I’ll just die an -old maid, Uncle Major.” - -“Rather than allow it,” the Major replied, gallantly, “I’ll dye my hair -and marry you myself! But don’t you talk that way to me, young lady; I -know what’s going on in the world. They tell me the Marysville road’s -all worn out from the travel over it.” - -Holly tossed her head. - -“That’s only Cousin Julian,” she said. - -“Humph! ‘Only Cousin Julian,’ eh? Well, Cousin Julian’s a fine-looking -beau, my dear, and Doctor Thompson told me only last week that he’s -doing splendidly, learning to poison folks off real natural and saw -off their legs and arms so’s it’s a genuine pleasure to them. I reckon -that in about a year or so Cousin Julian will be thinking of getting -married. Eh? What say?” - -“He may for all of me,” laughed Holly. But her cheeks wore a little -deeper tint, and the Major chuckled. Then he became suddenly grave. - -“Is your Aunt at home?” he asked, in a low voice. - -“She’s up-stairs,” answered Holly. “I’ll tell her you’re here, sir.” - -“Just a moment,” said the Major, hurriedly. “I――oh, Lord!” He rubbed -his chin slowly, and looked at Holly in comical despair. “Holly, pity -the sorrows of a poor old man.” - -“What have you been doing, Uncle Major?” asked Holly, sternly. - -“Nothing, ’pon my word, my dear! That is――well, almost nothing. I -thought it was all for the best, but now――――” He stopped and shook -his head. Then he threw back his shoulders, surrendered his hat and -stick to the girl, and marched resolutely into the parlor. There he -turned, pointed upward and nodded his head silently. Holly, smiling but -perplexed, ran up-stairs. - -Left alone in the big, square, white-walled room, dim and still, the -Major unbuttoned his long frock coat and threw the lapels aside with a -gesture of bravado. But in another instant he was listening anxiously -to the confused murmur of voices from the floor above and plucking -nervously at the knees of his trousers. Presently a long-drawn sigh -floated onto the silence, and―― - -“Godamighty!” whispered the Major; “I wish I’d never done it!” - -The Major was short in stature and generous of build. Since the war, -when a Northern bullet had almost terminated the usefulness of his -right leg, he had been a partial cripple and the enforced quiescence -had resulted in a portliness quite out of proportion to his height. He -had a large round head, still well covered with silky iron-gray hair, -a jovial face lit by restless, kindly eyes of pale blue, a large, -flexible mouth, and an even more generous nose. The cheeks had become -somewhat pendulous of late years and reminded one of the convenient -sacks in which squirrels place nuts in temporary storage. The Major -shaved very closely over the whole expanse of face each morning and -by noon was tinged an unpleasant ghastly blue by the undiscouraged -bristles. - -Although Holly called him “Uncle” he was in reality no relation. He -had ever been, however, her father’s closest friend and on terms of -greater intimacy than many near relations. Excepting only Holly, none -had mourned more truly at Lamar Wayne’s death. The Captain had been the -Major’s senior by only one year, but seeing them together one would -have supposed the discrepancy in age much greater. The Major always -treated the Captain like an older brother, accepting his decisions with -unquestioning loyalty, and accorded him precedence in all things. It -was David and Jonathan over again. Even after the war, in which the -younger man had won higher promotion, the Major still considered the -Captain his superior officer. - -The Major pursued an uncertain law practice and had served for some -time as Circuit Judge. Among the negroes he was always “Major -Jedge.” That he had never been able to secure more than the simplest -comforts of life in the pursuit of his profession was largely due to -an unpractical habit of summoning the opposing parties in litigation -to his office and settling the case out of court. Add to this that -fully three-fourths of his clients were negroes, and that “Major -Jedge” was too soft-hearted to insist on payment for his services when -the client was poorer than he, and you can readily understand that -Major Lucius Quintus Cass’s fashion of wearing large patches on his -immaculately-shining boots was not altogether a matter of choice. - -[Illustration] - -The Major had not long to wait for an audience. As he adjusted his -trouser-legs for the third time the sound of soft footfalls on the bare -staircase reached him. He glanced apprehensively at the open door, -puffed his cheeks out in a mighty exhalation of breath, and arose -from his chair just as Miss India Wayne swept into the room. I say -swept advisedly, for in spite of the lady’s diminutive stature she was -incapable of entering a room in any other manner. Where other women -walked, Miss India swept; where others bowed, Miss India curtseyed; -where others sat down, Miss India subsided. Hers were the manners and -graces of a half-century ago. She was fifty-four years old, but many -of those years had passed over her very lightly. Small, perfectly -proportioned, with a delicate oval face surmounted by light brown hair, -untouched as yet by frost and worn in a braided coronet, attired in a -pale lavender gown of many ruffles, she was for all the world like a -little Chelsea figurine. She smiled upon the Major a trifle anxiously -as she shook hands and bowed graciously to his compliments. Then -seating herself erectly on the sofa――for Miss India never lolled――she -folded her hands in her lap and looked calmly expectant at the visitor. -As the visitor exhibited no present intention of broaching the subject -of his visit she took command of the situation, just as she was -capable of and accustomed to taking command of most situations. - -“Holly has begged me not to be hard on you, Major,” she said, in her -sweet, still youthful voice. “Pray what have you been doing now? You -are not here, I trust, to plead guilty to another case of reprehensible -philanthropy?” - -“No, Miss Indy, I assure you that you have absolutely reformed me, -ma’am.” - -Miss India smiled in polite incredulity, tapping one slender hand upon -the other as she might in the old days at the White Sulphur have tapped -him playfully, yet quite decorously, with her folded fan. The Major -chose not to observe the incredulity and continued: - -“The fact is, my dear Miss Indy, that I have come on a matter of -more――ah――importance. You will recollect――pardon me, pray, if I recall -unpleasant memories to mind――you will recollect that when your brother -died it was found that he had unfortunately left very little behind him -in the way of worldly wealth. He passed onward, madam, rich in the -love and respect of the community, but poor in earthly possessions.” - -The Major paused and rubbed his bristly chin agitatedly. Miss India -bowed silently. - -“As his executor,” continued the Major, “it was my unpleasant duty -to offer this magnificent estate for sale. It was purchased, as you -will recollect, by Judge Linderman, of Georgia, a friend of your -brother’s――――” - -“Pardon me, Major; an acquaintance.” - -“Madam, all those so fortunate as to become acquainted with Captain -Lamar Wayne were his friends.” - -Miss India bowed again and waived the point. - -“Judge Linderman, as he informed me at the time of the purchase, -bought the property as a speculation. He was the owner of much real -estate throughout the South. At his most urgent request you consented -to continue your residence at Waynewood, paying him rent for the -property.” - -“But nevertheless,” observed Miss India, a trifle bitterly, “being to a -large extent an object of his charity. The sum paid as rent is absurd.” - -“Nominal, madam, I grant you,” returned the Major. “Had our means -allowed we should have insisted on paying more. But you are unjust to -yourself when you speak of charity. As I pointed out――or, rather, as -Judge Linderman pointed out to me, had you moved from Waynewood he -would have been required to install a care-taker, which would have cost -him several dollars a month, whereas under the arrangement made he drew -a small but steady interest from the investment. I now come, my dear -Miss Indy, to certain facts which are――with which you are, I think, -unacquainted. That that is so is my fault, if fault there is. Believe -me, I accept all responsibility in the matter and am prepared to bear -your reproaches without a murmur, knowing that I have acted for what I -have believed to be the best.” - -Miss India’s calm face showed a trace of agitation and her crossed -hands trembled a little. - -The Major paused as though deliberating. - -“Pray continue, Major,” she said. “Whatever you have done has been -done, I am certain, from motives of true friendship.” - -The Major bowed gratefully. - -“I thank you, madam. To resume, about four years ago Judge Linderman -became bankrupt through speculation in cotton. That, I believe, -you already knew. What you did not know was that in meeting his -responsibilities he was obliged to part with all his real estate -holdings, Waynewood amongst them.” - -The Major paused, expectantly, but the only comment from his audience, -if comment it might be called, was a quivering sigh of apprehension -which sent the Major quickly on with his story. - -“Waynewood fell into the hands of a Mr. Gerald Potter, of New York, a -broker, who――――” - -“A Northerner!” cried Miss India. - -“A Northerner, my dear lady,” granted the Major, avoiding the lady’s -horrified countenance, “but, as I have been creditably informed, a -thorough gentleman and a representative of one of the foremost New York -families.” - -“A gentleman!” echoed Miss India, scornfully. “A Northern gentleman! -And so I am to understand that for four years I and my niece have been -subsisting on the charity of a Northerner! Is that what you have come -to inform me, Major Cass?” - -“The former arrangement was allowed to continue,” answered the Major, -evenly, “being quite satisfactory to the new owner of the property. I -regret, if you will pardon me, the use of the word charity, Miss India.” - -“You may regret it to your soul’s content, Major Cass,” replied Miss -India, with acerbity. “The fact remains――the horrible, dishonoring -fact! I consider your course almost――and I had never thought to use -the word to you, sir――insulting!” - -“It is indeed a harsh word, madam,” replied the Major, gently and -sorrowfully. “I realize that I have been ill-advised in keeping -the truth from you, but in a calmer moment you will, I am certain, -exonerate me from all intentions unworthy of my love for your dead -brother and of my respect for you.” There was a suggestive tremble in -the Major’s voice. - -Miss India dropped her eyes to the hands which were writhing agitatedly -in her lap. Then: - -“You are right, my dear friend,” she said, softly. “I was too hasty. -You will forgive me, will you not? But――this news of yours――is so -unexpected, so astounding――――!” - -“Pray say no more!” interposed the Major, warmly. “I quite understand -your agitation. And since the subject is unpleasant to you I will -conclude my explanation as quickly as possible.” - -“There is more?” asked Miss India, anxiously. - -“A little. Mr. Potter kept the property some three years and then――I -learned these facts but a few hours since――then became involved in -financial troubles and――pardon me――committed suicide. He was found at -his desk in his office something over a year ago with a bullet in his -brain.” - -“Horrible!” ejaculated Miss India, but――and may I in turn be pardoned -if I do the lady an injustice――there was something in her tone -suggesting satisfaction with the manner in which a just Providence had -dealt with a Northerner so presumptuous as to dishonor Waynewood with -his ownership. “And now?” she asked. - -“This morning I received a letter from a gentleman signing himself -Robert Winthrop, a business partner of the late unfortunate owner of -the property. In the letter he informs me that after arranging the -firm’s affairs he finds himself in possession of Waynewood and is -coming here to look it over and, if it is in condition to allow of it, -to spend some months here. He writes――let me see; I have his letter -here. Ah, yes. H’m: - - “‘My health went back on me after I had got affairs fixed up, - and I have been dandling my heels about a sanitarium for three - months. Now the physician advises quiet and a change of scene, - and it occurs to me that I may find both in your town. So I am - leaving almost at once for Florida. Naturally, I wish to see my - new possessions, and if the house is habitable I shall occupy - it for three or four months. When I arrive I shall take the - liberty of calling on you and asking your assistance in the - matter.’” - -The Major folded the letter and returned it to the cavernous pocket of -his coat. - -“I gather that he is――ah――uninformed of the present arrangement,” he -observed. - -“That, I think, is of slight importance,” returned Miss India, “since -by the time he arrives the house will be quite at his disposal.” - -“You mean that you intend to move out?” asked the Major, anxiously. - -“Most certainly! Do you think that I――that either Holly or I――would -continue to remain under this roof a moment longer than necessary now -that we know it belongs to a――a Northerner?” - -“But he writes――he expresses himself like a gentleman, my dear lady, -and I feel certain that he would be only too proud to have you remain -here――――” - -“I have never yet seen a Northern gentleman, Major,” replied Miss -India, contemptuously, “and until I do I refuse to believe in the -existence of such an anomaly.” - -The Major raised his hands in a gesture of helpless protestation. - -“Madam, I had the honor of fighting the Northerners, and I assure you -that many of them are gentlemen. Their ways are not ours, I grant you, -nor are their manners, but――――” - -“That is a subject upon which, I recollect, you and my brother were -never able to agree.” - -The Major nodded ruefully. The momentary silence was broken at last by -Miss India. - -“I do not pretend to pit my imperfect knowledge against yours, Major. -There may be Northerners who have gentlemanly instincts. That, as may -be, I refuse to be beholden to one of them. They were our enemies and -they are still _my_ enemies. They killed my brother John; they brought -ruin to our land.” - -“The killing, madam, was not all on their side, I take satisfaction in -recalling. And if they brought distress to the South they have since -very nobly assisted us to restore it.” - -“My brother has said many times,” replied the lady, “that he might in -time forgive the North for knocking us down but that he could never -forgive it for helping us up. You have heard him say that, Major?” - -“I have, my dear Miss India, I have. And yet I venture to say that had -the Lord spared Lamar for another twenty years he would have modified -his convictions.” - -“Never,” said Miss India, sternly; “never!” - -“You may be right, my dear lady, but there was something else I have -often heard him say.” - -“And pray what is that?” - -“A couplet of Mr. Pope’s, madam: - - “‘Good nature and good sense must ever join; - To err is human; to forgive, divine.’” - -“I reckon, however,” answered the lady, dryly, “that you never heard -him connect that sentiment with the Yankees.” - -The Major chuckled. - -“Deftly countered, madam!” he said. And then, taking advantage of the -little smile of gratification which he saw: “But this is a subject -which you and I, Miss India, can no more agree upon than could your -brother and myself. Let us pass it by. But grant me this favor. Remain -at Waynewood until this Mr. Winthrop arrives. See him before you judge -him, madam. Remember that if what he writes gives a fair exposition of -the case, he is little better than an invalid and so must find sympathy -in every woman’s heart. There is time enough to go, if go you must, -afterwards. It is scarcely likely that Mr. Winthrop could find better -tenants. And no more likely that you and Holly could find so pleasant a -home. Do this, ma’am.” - -And Miss India surrendered; not at once, you must know, but after a -stubborn defence, and then only when mutineers from her own lines made -common cause with the enemy. Before the allied forces of the Major’s -arguments and her own womanly sympathy she was forced to capitulate. -And so when a few moments later Holly, after a sharp skirmish of her -own in which she had been decisively beaten by Curiosity, appeared -at the door, she found Aunt India and the Major amicably discussing -village affairs. - - - - -III. - - -Robert Winthrop, laden with bag, overcoat and umbrella, left the -sleeping-car in which he had spent most of the last eighteen hours and -crossed the narrow platform of the junction to the train which was to -convey him the last stage of his journey. It was almost three o’clock -in the afternoon――for the Florida Limited, according to custom, had -been two hours late――and Winthrop was both jaded and dirty; and I might -add that, since this was his first experience with Southern travel, he -was also somewhat out of patience. - -Choosing the least soiled of the broken-springed, red-velveted seats -in the white compartment of the single passenger car, he set his bag -down and sank weariedly back. Through the small window beside him he -saw the Limited take up its jolting progress once more, and watched -the station-agent deposit his trunk in the baggage-car ahead, which, -with the single passenger-coach, comprised the Corunna train. Then -followed five minutes during which nothing happened. Winthrop sighed -resignedly and strove to find interest in the view. But there was -little to see from where he sat; a corner of the station, a section of -platform adorned with a few bales of cotton, a crate of live chickens, -and a bag of raw peanuts, a glimpse of the forest which crept down -to the very edge of the track, a wide expanse of cloudless blue sky. -Through the open door and windows, borne on the lazy sun-warmed air, -came the gentle wheezing of the engine ahead, the sudden discordant -chatter of a bluejay, and the murmurous voices of two negro women in -the other compartment. There was no hint of Winter in the air, although -November was almost a week old; instead, it was warm, languorous, -scented with the odors of the forest and tinged at times with the -pleasantly acrid smell of burning pitch-pine from the engine. It -was strangely soft, that air, soft and soothing to tired nerves, and -Winthrop felt its influence and sighed. But this time the sigh was not -one of resignation; rather of surrender. He stretched his legs as well -as he might in the narrow space afforded them, leaned his head back and -closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized until this moment how tired he was! -The engine sobbed and wheezed and the negroes beyond the closed door -murmured on. - -“Your ticket, sir, if you please.” - -Winthrop opened his eyes and blinked. The train was swaying along -between green, sunlit forest walls, and at his side the conductor was -waiting with good-humored patience. Winthrop yielded the last scrap of -his green strip and sat up. Suddenly the wood fell behind on either -side, giving place to wide fields which rolled back from the railroad -to disappear over tiny hills. They were fertile, promising-looking -fields, chocolate-hued, covered with sere, brown cotton-plants to which -here and there tufts of white still clung. Rail fences zigzagged -between them, and fire-blackened pine stumps marred their neatness. -At intervals the engine emitted a doleful screech and a narrow road -crossed the track to amble undecidedly away between the fields. At -such moments Winthrop caught glimpses of an occasional log cabin with -its tipsy, clay-chinked chimney and its invariable congress of lean -chickens and leaner dogs. Now and then a commotion along the track drew -his attention to a scurrying, squealing drove of pigs racing out of -danger. Then for a time the woods closed in again, and presently the -train slowed down before a small station. Winthrop reached tentatively -toward his bag, but at that instant the sign came into sight, “Cowper,” -he read, and settled back again. - -[Illustration] - -Apparently none boarded the train and none got off, and presently the -journey began once more. The conductor entered, glanced at Winthrop, -decided that he didn’t look communicative and so sat himself down in -the corner and leisurely bit the corner off a new plug of tobacco. - -The fields came into sight again, and once a comfortable-looking -residence gazed placidly down at the passing train from the crest of -a nearby hill. But Winthrop saw without seeing. His thoughts were -reviewing once more the chain of circumstances which had led link by -link to the present moment. His thoughts went no further back than -that painful morning nearly two years before when he had discovered -Gerald Potter huddled over his desk, a revolver beside him on the -floor, and his face horrible with the stains of blood and of ink from -the overturned ink-stand. They had been friends ever since college -days, Gerald and he, and the shock had never quite left him. During the -subsequent work of disentangling the affairs of the firm the thing -haunted him like a nightmare, and when the last obligation had been -discharged, Winthrop’s own small fortune going with the rest, he had -broken down completely. Nervous prostration, the physician called it. -Looking back at it now Winthrop had a better name for it, and that -was, Hell. There had been moments when he feared he would die, and -interminable nights when he feared he wouldn’t, when he had cried like -a baby and begged to be put out of misery. There had been two months -of that, and then they had bundled him off to a sanitarium in the -Connecticut hills. There he, who a few months before had been a strong, -capable man of thirty-eight, found himself a weak, helpless, emaciated -thing with no will of his own, a mere sleeping and waking automaton, -more interested in watching the purple veins on the backs of his thin -hands than aught else in his limited world. At times he could have wept -weakly from self-pity. - -But that, too, had passed. One sparkling September morning he lay -stretched at length in a long chair on the uncovered veranda, a flood -of inspiriting sunlight upon him, and a little breeze, brisk with the -cool zest of Autumn, stirring his hair. And he had looked up from the -white and purple hands and had seen a new world of green and gold and -blue spread before him at his feet, a twelve-mile panorama of Nature’s -finest work retouched and varnished overnight. He had feasted his eyes -upon it and felt a glad stirring at his heart. And that day had marked -the beginning of a new stage of recovery; he had asked, “How long?” - -The last week in October had seen his release. He had returned to his -long-vacant apartment in New York fully determined to start at once -the work of rebuilding his fallen fortunes. But his physician had -interposed. “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said, “and the rest is -in your own hands. Get away from New York; it won’t supply what you -need. Get into the country somewhere, away from cities and tickers. -Hunt, fish, spend your time out of doors. There’s nothing organically -wrong with that heart of yours, but it’s pretty tired yet; nurse it -awhile.” - -“The programme sounds attractive,” Winthrop had replied, smilingly, -“but it’s expensive. Practically I am penniless. Give me a year to -gather the threads up again and get things a-going once more, and I’ll -take your medicine gladly.” - -The physician had shrugged his shoulders with a grim smile. - -“I have never heard,” he replied, “that the hunting or fishing was -especially good in the next world.” - -“What do you mean?” asked Winthrop, frowning. - -“Just this, sir. You say you can’t afford to take a vacation. I say you -can’t afford not to take it. I’ve lived a good deal longer than you and -I give you my word I never saw a poor man who wasn’t a whole lot better -off than any dead one of my acquaintance. I don’t want to frighten -you, but I tell you frankly that if you stay here and buckle down to -rebuilding your business you’ll be a damned poor risk for any insurance -company inside of two weeks. It’s better to live poor than to die rich. -Take your choice.” - -Winthrop had taken it. After all, poverty is comparative, and he -realized that he was still as well off as many a clerk who was -contentedly keeping a family on his paltry twenty or thirty dollars -a week. He sub-rented his apartment, paid what bills he owed out of -the small balance standing to his name at the bank, and considered -the question of destination. It was then that he had remembered the -piece of property in Florida which he had taken over for the firm and -which, having been the least desirable of the assets, had escaped the -creditors. He went to the telephone and called up the physician. - -“How would Florida do?” he had asked. “Good place to play invalid, -isn’t it?” - -“I don’t care where you go,” was the response, “so long as there’s pure -air and sunshine there, and as long as you give your whole attention -to mending yourself.” - -He had never been in Florida, but it appealed to him and he believed -that, since he must live economically, there could be no better place; -at least there would be no rent to pay. So he had written to Major -Cass, whose name he had come across in looking over his partner’s -papers, and had started South on the heels of his letter. The trip -had been a hard one for him, but now the soft, fragrant air that blew -against his face through the open car window was already soothing him -with its caressing touch and whispering fair promises of strengthening -days. A long blast of the whistle moved the conductor to a return of -animation and Winthrop awoke from his thoughts. The train was slowing -down with a grinding of hand-brakes. Through the window he caught -glimpses of gardens and houses and finally of a broad, tree-lined -street marching straight away from the railroad up a sloping hill to -a gray stone building with a wooden cupola which seemed to block its -path. Then the station threw its shadow across him and the train, with -many jerks and much rattling of coupling, came to a stop. - -[Illustration] - -“Corunna,” drawled the conductor. - -Outside, on the platform which ran in front of the station on a level -with the car floors, Winthrop looked about him with mingled amusement -and surprise. In most places, he thought, the arrival of the daily -train was an event of sufficient importance to people the station -platform with spectators. But here he counted just three persons -beside himself and the train crew. These were the two negresses who -had travelled with him and the station agent. There was no carriage in -sight; not even a dray for his trunk. He applied to the agent. - -“Take that street over yonder,” said the agent, “and it’ll fetch you -right square to the Major’s office, sir. I’ll look after your bag until -you send for it. You tell the nigger to ask me for it, sir.” - -[Illustration] - -So Winthrop yielded the bag, coat and umbrella and started forth. The -station and the adjoining freight-shed stood, neutral-hued, under the -wide-spreading branches of several magnificent live-oaks, in one of -which, hidden somewhere in the thick greenery, a thrush was singing. -This sound, with that of the panting of the tired engine, alone stirred -the somnolent silence of mid-afternoon. A road, deep with white sand, -ambled away beneath the trees in the direction of the wide street which -Winthrop had seen from the car and to which he had been directed. It -proved to be a well-kept thoroughfare lined with oaks and bordered -by pleasant gardens in front of comfortable, always picturesque and -sometimes handsome houses. The sidewalks were high above the street, -and gullies of red clay, washed deep by the heavy rains, divided the -two. In front of the gates little bridges crossed the gullies. The -gardens were still aflame with late flowers and the scent of roses was -over all. Winthrop walked slowly, his senses alert and enravished. -He drew in deep breaths of the fragrant air and sighed for very -contentment. - -“Heavens,” he said under his breath, “the place is just one big rest -cure! If I can’t get fixed up here I might as well give up trying. I -wonder,” he added a moment later, “if every one is asleep.” - -There was not a soul in sight up the length of the street, but from one -of the houses came the sound of a piano and, as he glanced toward its -embowered porch, he thought he caught the white of a woman’s gown. - -“Someone’s awake, anyhow,” he thought. “Maybe she’s a victim of -insomnia.” - -The street came to an end in a wide space surrounded by one- and -two-story stores and occupied in the centre by a stone building which -he surmised to be the court-house. He bore to the right, his eyes -searching the buildings for the shingle of Major Cass. A few teams -were standing in front of the town hitching-rails, and perhaps a dozen -persons, mostly negroes, were in view. He had decided to appeal for -information when he caught sight of a modest sign on a corner building -across the square. “L. Q. Cass, Counsellor at Law,” he read. The -building was a two-story affair of crumbling red brick. The lower part -was occupied by a general merchandise store, and the upper by offices. -A flight of wooden steps led from the sidewalk along the outside of -the building to the second floor. Winthrop ascended, entered an open -door, and knocked at the first portal. But there was no reply to his -demands, and, as the other rooms in sight were evidently untenanted, he -returned to the street and addressed himself to a youth who sat on an -empty box under the wooden awning of the store below. The youth was in -his shirt-sleeves and was eating sugar-cane, but at Winthrop’s greeting -he rose to his feet, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and -answered courteously: - -“Waynewood is about three-quarters of a mile, sir,” he replied to the -stranger’s inquiry. “Right down this street, sir, until you cross the -bridge over the branch. Then it’s the first place.” - -He was evidently very curious about the questioner, but strove politely -to restrain that curiosity until the other had moved away along the -street. - -The street upon which Winthrop now found himself ran at right angles -with that up which he had proceeded from the station. Like that, it was -shaded from side to side by water-oaks and bordered by gardens. But -the gardens were larger, less flourishing, and the houses behind them -smaller and less tidy. He concluded that this was an older part of the -village. Several carriages passed him, and once he paused in the shade -to watch the slow approach and disappearance of a creaking two-wheeled -cart, presided over by a white-haired old negro and drawn by a pair -of ruminative oxen. It was in sight quite five minutes, during which -time Winthrop leaned against the sturdy bole of an oak and marvelled -smilingly. - -[Illustration] - -“And in New York,” he said to himself, “we swear because it takes us -twenty minutes to get to Wall Street on the elevated!” - -He went on, glad of the rest, passing from sunlight to shadow along the -uneven sidewalk and finally crossing the bridge, a tiny affair over a -shallow stream of limpid water which trickled musically over its bed -of white sand. Beyond the bridge the sidewalk ceased and he went on -for a little distance over a red clay road, rutted by wheels and baked -hard by the sun. Then a picket fence which showed evidence of having -once been whitewashed met him and he felt a sudden stirring within him. -This was Waynewood, doubtless, and it belonged to him. The thought was -somehow a very pleasant one. He wondered why. He had possessed far -more valuable real estate in his time but he couldn’t recollect that he -had ever thrilled before at the thought of ownership. - -[Illustration] - -“Oh, there’s magic in this ridiculous air,” he told himself whimsically. -“Even a toad would look romantic here, I dare say. I wonder if there is -a gate to my domain.” - -Behind the fence along which he made his way was an impenetrable mass -of shrubbery and trees. Of what was beyond, there was no telling. But -presently the gate was before him, sagging wide open on its rusted -hinges. From it a straight path, narrow and shadowy, proceeded for some -distance, crossed a blur of sunlight and continued to where a gleam of -white seemed to indicate a building. The path was set between solid -rows of oleander bushes whose lanceolate leaves whispered murmurously -to Winthrop as he trod the firm, moss-edged path. - -The blur of sunlight proved to be a break in the path where a driveway -angled across it, curving on toward the house and backward toward -the road where, as Winthrop later discovered, it emerged through a -gate beyond the one by which he had entered. He crossed the drive and -plunged again into the gloom of the oleander path. But his journey was -almost over, for a moment later the sentinel bushes dropped away from -beside him and he found himself at the foot of a flower garden, across -whose blossom-flecked width a white-pillared, double-galleried old -house stared at him in dignified calm. The porches were untenanted and -the wide-open door showed an empty hall. To reach that door Winthrop -had to make a half circuit of the garden, for directly in front of -him a great round bed of roses and box barred his way. In the middle -of the bed a stained marble cupid twined garlands of roses about his -naked body. Winthrop followed the path to the right and circled his -way to the drive and the steps, the pleasure of possession kindling -in his heart. With his foot on the lowest step he paused and glanced -about him. It was charming! Find his health here? Oh, beyond a doubt -he would. Ponce de Leon had searched in this part of the world for the -Fountain of Youth. Who knew but that he, Robert Winthrop, might not -find it here, hidden away in this fragrant, shaded jungle? And just -then his wandering glance fell on a sprawling fig-tree at the end of -the porch, at a white figure perched in its branches, at a girl’s -fresh young face looking across at him with frank and smiling curiosity. - -Winthrop took off his hat and moved toward the fig-tree. - - - - -IV. - - -The Major had accomplished his errand and had taken his departure, -accompanied down the oleander path as far as the gate by Holly. He -was very well satisfied with his measure of success. Miss India had -consented to remain at Waynewood until the arrival of the new owner, -and if the new owner proved to be the kind of man the Major hoped him -to be, things would work out quite satisfactory. Of course a good deal -depended on Robert Winthrop’s being as much of an invalid as the Major -had pictured him to Miss India. Let him appear on the scene exhibiting -a sound body and rugged health and all the Major’s plans would be -upset; Miss India’s sympathy would vanish on the instant, and Waynewood -would be promptly abandoned to the enemy. - -The Major’s affection for Miss India and Holly was deep and sincere, -and the idea of their leaving Waynewood was intolerable to him. The -thing mustn’t be, and he believed he could prevent it. Winthrop, on -arrival, would of course call upon him at once. Then he would point -out to him the advantage of retaining such admirable tenants, acquaint -him with the terms of occupancy, and prevail upon him to renew the -lease, which had expired some months before. It was not likely that -Winthrop would remain in Corunna more than three months at the most, -and during his stay he could pay Miss India for his board. Yes, the -Major had schemed it all out between the moment of receiving that -disquieting letter and the moment of his arrival at Waynewood. And -his schemes looked beyond the present crisis. In another year or so -Julian Wayne, Holly’s second cousin, would have finished his term with -Doctor Thompson at Marysville and would be ready to begin practice -for himself, settle down and marry Holly. Why shouldn’t Julian buy -Waynewood? To be sure, he possessed very little capital, but it was -not likely that the present owner of Waynewood would demand a large -price for the property. There could be a mortgage, and Julian was -certain to make a success of his profession. In this way Waynewood -would remain with the Waynes and Miss India and Holly could live their -lives out in the place that had always been home to them. So plotted -the Major, while Fate, outwardly inscrutable, doubtless chuckled in her -sleeve. - -[Illustration] - -At the gate the Major had shaken hands with Holly and made a request. - -“My dear,” he had said, “when you return to the house your Aunt will -have something to tell you. Be guided by her. Remember that there are -two sides to every question and that――ah――time alters all things.” - -“But, Uncle Major, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Holly had -declared, laughing. - -“I know you don’t, my dear; I know you don’t. And I haven’t time to -tell you.” He had drawn his big silver watch from his vest and glanced -at it apprehensively. “I promised to be at my office an hour ago. I -really must hurry back. Good-bye, my dear.” - -“Good-bye,” Holly had answered. “But I think you’re a most provoking, -horrid old Uncle Major.” - -But if the Major had feared mutiny on the part of Holly he might -have spared himself the uneasiness. Holly had heard of the impending -event from Aunt India at the dinner table with relish. Of course it -was disgusting to learn that Waynewood was owned by a Northerner, but -doubtless that was an injustice of Fate which would be remedied in -good time. The exciting thing was that they were to have a visitor, a -stranger, someone from that fearsomely interesting and, if reports were -to be credited, delightfully wicked place called New York; someone who -could talk to her of other matters than the prospects of securing the -new railroad. - -“Auntie, is he married?” she had asked, suddenly. - -“My dear Holly, what has that to do with it?” - -“Well, you see,” Holly had responded, demurely, “I’m not married -myself, and when you put two people together who are not married, why, -something may happen.” - -“Holly!” protested Miss India, in horror. - -“Oh, I was only in fun,” said Holly, with a laugh. “Do you reckon, -Auntie dear, that I’d marry a Northerner?” - -“I should certainly trust not,” replied Miss India, severely. - -“Not if he had millions and millions of money and whole bushels of -diamonds,” answered Holly, cheerfully. “But is he married, Auntie?” - -“I’m sure I can’t say. The Major believes him to be a man of middle -age, possibly fifty years old, and so it is quite likely that he has a -wife.” - -“And he is not bringing her with him?” - -“He said nothing of it in his letter, my dear.” - -“Then I think she’s a very funny kind of a wife,” replied Holly, with -conviction. “If he is an invalid, I don’t see why she lets him come -away down here all alone. I wouldn’t if I were she. I’d be afraid.” - -“I don’t reckon he’s as much of an invalid as all that.” - -“Oh, I wasn’t thinking about his health then,” answered Holly. “I’d be -afraid he’d meet someone he liked better than me and I wouldn’t see him -again.” - -“Holly, where do you get such deplorable notions?” asked her Aunt -severely. “It must be the books you read. You read altogether too much. -At your age, my dear, I assure you I――――” - -“I shall be eighteen in just twelve days,” interrupted Holly. “And -eighteen is grown-up. Besides, you know very well that wives do lose -their husbands sometimes. There was Cousin Maybird Fairleigh――――” - -“I decline to discuss such vulgar subjects,” said Miss India, -decisively. “Under the circumstances I think it just as well to forget -the relationship, which is of the very slightest, my dear.” - -“But it wasn’t Cousin Maybird’s fault,” protested Holly. “She didn’t -want to lose him, Aunt India. He was a very nice husband; very handsome -and distinguished, you know. It was all the fault of that other woman, -the one he married after the divorce.” - -“Holly!” - -“Yes?” - -“We will drop the subject, if you please.” - -“Yes, Auntie.” - -Holly smiled at her plate. Presently: - -“When is this Mr. Winthrop coming?” she asked. - -“He didn’t announce the exact date of arrival,” replied Miss India. -“But probably within a day or two. I have ordered Phœbe to prepare the -West Chamber for him. He will, of course, require a warm room and a -good bed.” - -“But, Auntie, the carpet is so awful in the West Room,” deplored Holly. - -“That is his affair,” replied Aunt India, serenely, as she arose from -the table. “It is his carpet.” - -Holly looked surprised, then startled. - -“Do you mean that everything here belongs to him?” she asked, -incredulously. “The furniture and pictures and books and――and -everything?” - -“Waynewood was sold just as it stood at the time, my dear. Everything -except what is our personal property belongs to Mr. Winthrop.” - -“Then I shall hate him,” said Holly, with calm decision. - -“You must do nothing of the sort, my dear. The place and the furnishings -belong to him legally.” - -“I don’t care, Auntie. He has no right to them. I shall hate him. Why, -he owns the very bed I sleep in and my maple bureau and――――” - -“You forget, Holly, that those things were bought after your father -died and do not belong to his estate.” - -“Then they’re really mine, after all? Very well, Auntie dear, I shan’t -hate him, then; at least, not so much.” - -“I trust you will not hate him at all,” responded Miss India, with a -smile. “Being an invalid, as he is, we must――――” - -“Shucks!” exclaimed Holly. “I dare say he’s just making believe so we -won’t put poison in his coffee!” - -In the middle of the afternoon, what time Miss India composed herself -to slumber and silence reigned over Waynewood, Holly found a book and -sought the fig-tree. The book, for having been twice read, proved -none too enthralling, and presently it had dropped unheeded to the -ground and Holly, leaning comfortably back against the branches, was -day-dreaming once more. The sound of footsteps on the garden path -roused her, and she peered forth just as the intruder began his half -circuit of the rose-bed. - -Afterwards Holly called herself stupid for not having guessed the -identity of the intruder at once. And yet, it seems to me that she was -very excusable. Robert Winthrop had been pictured to her as an invalid, -and invalids in Holly’s judgment were persons who lay supinely in easy -chairs, lived on chicken broth, guava jelly and calomel, and were -alternately irritatingly resigned or maddeningly petulant. The expected -invalid had also been described as middle-aged, a term capable of wide -interpretation and one upon which the worst possible construction is -usually placed. The Major had suggested fifty; Holly with unconscious -pessimism imagined sixty. Add to this that Winthrop was not expected -before the morrow, and that Holly’s acquaintance with the inhabitants -of the country north of Mason and Dixon’s line was of the slightest and -that not of the sort to prepossess her in their favor, and I think she -may be absolved from the charge of stupidity. For the stranger whose -advent in the garden had aroused her from her dreams looked to be under -forty, was far from matching Holly’s idea of an invalid, and looked -quite unlike the one or two Northerners she had seen. To be sure the -man in the garden walked slowly and a trifle languidly, but for that -matter so did many of Holly’s townsfolk. And when he paused at last -with one foot on the lower step his breath was coming a bit raggedly -and his face was too pale for perfect health. But these facts Holly -failed to observe. - -What she did observe was that the stranger was rather tall, quite -erect, broad of shoulder and deep of chest, somewhat too thin for the -size of his frame, with a pleasant, lean face of which the conspicuous -features were high cheek-bones, a straightly uncompromising nose and a -pair of nice eyes of some shade neither dark nor light. He wore a brown -mustache which, contrary to the Southern custom, was trimmed quite -short; and when he lifted his hat a moment later Holly saw that his -hair, dark brown in color, had retreated well away from his forehead -and was noticeably sprinkled with white at the temples. As for his -attire, it was immaculate; black derby, black silk tie knotted in a -four-in-hand and secured with a small pearl pin, well-cut grey sack -suit and brown leather shoes. In a Southerner Holly would have thought -such carefulness of dress foppish; in fact, as it was, she experienced -a tiny contempt for it even as she acknowledged that the result was far -from displeasing. Further observations and conclusions were cut short -by the stranger, who advanced toward her with hat in hand and a puzzled -smile. - -“How do you do?” said Winthrop. - -“Good evening,” answered Holly. - -There was a flicker of surprise in Winthrop’s eyes ere he continued. - -“I’m afraid I’m trespassing. The fact is, I was looking for a place -called Waynewood and from the directions I received in the village I -thought I had found it. But I guess I’ve made a mistake?” - -“Oh, no,” said Holly; “this is Waynewood.” - -Winthrop was silent a moment, striving to reconcile the announcement -with her presence: evidently there were complications ahead. At last: - -“Oh!” he said, and again paused. - -“Would you like to see my Aunt?” asked Holly. - -“Er――I hardly know,” answered Winthrop, with a smile for his own -predicament. “Would it sound impolite if I asked who your Aunt is?” - -“Why, Miss India Wayne,” answered Holly. “And I am Holly Wayne. Perhaps -you’ve got the wrong place, after all?” - -“Oh, no,” was the reply. “You say this is Waynewood, and of course -there can’t be two Waynewoods about here.” - -Holly shook her head, observing him gravely and curiously. Winthrop -frowned. Apparently there were complications which he had not surmised. - -“Will you come into the house?” suggested Holly. “I will tell Auntie -you wish to see her.” She prepared to descend from the low branch upon -which she was seated, and Winthrop reached a hand to her. - -“May I?” he asked, courteously. - -Holly placed her hand in his and leaped lightly to the ground, bending -her head as she smoothed her skirt that he might not see the ridiculous -little flush which had suddenly flooded her cheeks. Why, she wondered, -should she have blushed. She had been helped in and out of trees and -carriages, up and down steps, all her life, and couldn’t recollect that -she had ever done such a silly thing before! As she led the way along -the path which ran in front of the porch to the steps, she discovered -that her heart was thumping with a most disconcerting violence. And -with the discovery came a longing for flight. But with a fierce -contempt for her weakness she conquered the panic and kept her flushed -face from the sight of the man behind her. But she was heartily glad -when she had reached the comparative gloom of the hall. Laying aside -her bonnet, she turned to find that her companion had seated himself in -a chair on the porch. - -“You won’t mind if I wait here?” he asked, smiling apologetically. “The -fact is――the walk was――――” - -Had Holly not been anxious to avoid his eyes she would have seen that -he was fighting for breath and quite exhausted. Instead she turned -toward the stairs, only to pause ere she reached them to ask: - -“What name shall I say, please?” - -“Oh, I beg your pardon! Winthrop, please; Mr. Robert Winthrop, of New -York.” - -Holly wheeled about. - -“Mr. Winthrop!” she exclaimed. - -“If you please,” answered that gentleman, weakly. - -“Why,” continued Holly, in amazement, “then you aren’t an invalid, -after all!” She had reached the door now and was looking down at him -with bewilderment. Winthrop strove to turn his head toward her, gave up -the effort and smiled strainedly at the marble Cupid, which had begun -an erratic dance amongst the box and roses. - -“Oh, no,” he replied in a whisper. “I’m not――an invalid――at all.” - -Then he became suddenly very white and his head fell back over the side -of the chair. Holly gave one look and, turning, flew like the wind up -the broad stairway. - -[Illustration] - -“Auntie!” she called. “Aunt India! Come quickly! He’s fainted!” - -“Fainted? Who has fainted?” asked Miss India, from her doorway. “What -are you saying, child?” - -“Mr. Winthrop! He’s on the porch!” cried Holly, her own face almost as -white as Winthrop’s. - -“Mr. Winthrop! Here? Fainted? On the porch?” ejaculated Miss India, -dismayedly. “Call Uncle Ran at once. I’ll get the ammonia. Tell Phœbe -to bring some feathers. And get some water yourself, Holly.” - -In a moment Miss India, the ammonia bottle in hand, was――I had almost -said scuttling down the stairs. At least, she made the descent without -wasting a moment. - -“The poor man,” she murmured, as she looked down at the white face and -inert form of the stranger. “Holly! Phœbe! Oh, you’re here, are you? -Give me the water. There! Now bathe his head, Holly. Mercy, child, how -your hand shakes! Have you never seen any one faint before?” - -“It was so sudden,” faltered Holly. - -“Fainting usually is,” replied Miss India, as she dampened her tiny -handkerchief with ammonia and held it under Winthrop’s nose. “Do not -hold his head too high, Holly; that’s better. What do you say, Phœbe? -Why, you’ll just stand there and hold them until I want them, I reckon. -Dead? Of course he isn’t dead, you foolish girl. Not the least bit -dead. There, his eyelids moved; didn’t you see them? He will be all -right in a moment. You may take those feathers away, Phœbe, and tell -Uncle Ran to come and carry Mr. Winthrop up to his room. And do you go -up and start the fire and turn the bed down.” - -Winthrop drew a long breath and opened his eyes. - -“My dear lady,” he muttered, “I am so very sorry to bother you. I -don’t――――” - -“Sit still a moment, sir,” commanded Miss India, gently. “Holly, I told -you to hold his head. Don’t you see that he is weak and tired? I fear -the journey was too much for you, sir.” - -Winthrop closed his eyes for a moment, nodding his head assentingly. -Then he sat up and smiled apologetically at the ladies. - -“It was awfully stupid of me,” he said. “I have not been very well -lately and I guess the walk from the station was longer than I thought.” - -“You walked from the depot!” exclaimed Miss India, in horror. “It’s -no wonder then, sir. Why, it’s a mile and a quarter if it’s a step! I -never heard of anything so――so――――!” - -Miss India broke off and turned to the elderly negro, who had arrived -hurriedly on the scene. - -“Uncle Ran, carry Mr. Winthrop up to the West Chamber and help him to -retire.” - -“My dear lady,” Winthrop protested. “I am quite able to walk. Besides, -I have no intention of burdening you with――――” - -“Uncle Ran!” - -“Yes’m.” - -“You heard what I said?” - -“Yes’m.” - -Uncle Randall stooped over the chair. - -“Jes’ you put yo’ ahms roun’ my neck, sir, an’ I’ll tote you mighty -cahful an’ comfable, sir.” - -“But, really, I’d rather walk,” protested Winthrop. “And with your -permission, Miss――Miss Wayne, I’ll return to the village until――――” - -“Uncle Ran!” - -“Yes, Miss Indy, ma’am, I heahs you. Hol’ on tight, sir.” - -And in this ignoble fashion Winthrop took possession of Waynewood. - -[Illustration] - - - - -V. - - -True to his promise, Uncle Ran bore Winthrop “careful and comfortable” -up the wide stairs, around the turn and along the upper hall to the -West Chamber, lowering him at last, as tenderly as a basket of eggs, -into a chair. In spite of his boasts, Winthrop was in no condition to -have walked up-stairs unaided. The fainting spell, the first one since -he had left the sanitarium, had left him feeling limp and shaky. He was -glad of the negro’s assistance and content to have him remove his shoes -and help him off with his coat, the while he examined his quarters with -lazy interest. - -The room was very large, square, high-ceilinged. The walls were white -and guiltless of both paper and pictures. Four large windows would have -flooded the room with light had not the shades been carefully drawn to -within two feet of the sills. As it was, from the windows overlooking -the garden and opening onto the gallery the afternoon sunlight slanted -in, throwing long parallelograms of mellow gold across the worn and -faded carpet. The bed was a massive affair of black walnut, the -three chairs were old and comfortable, and the big mahogany-veneer -table in the centre of the room was large enough to have served for -a banquet. On it was a lamp, a plate of oranges whose fragrance was -pleasantly perceptible, and a copy of Pilgrim’s Progress bound in the -“keepsake” fashion of fifty years ago. The fire-place and hearth were -of soft red bricks and a couple of oak logs were flaring brightly. A -formidable wardrobe, bedecked with carved branches of grapes, matched -the bed, as did a washstand backed by a white “splasher” bearing a -design of cat-tails in red outline. The room seemed depressingly bare -at first, but for all of that there was an air of large hospitality -and plain comfort about it that was somewhat of a relief after the -over-furnished, over-decorated apartments with which Winthrop was -familiar. - -As his baggage had not come Miss India’s command could not be literally -obeyed, and Uncle Ran had perforce to be satisfied with the removal of -Winthrop’s outer apparel and his installation on the bed instead of in -it. - -“I’ll get yo’ trunk an’ valise right away, sir,” he said, “before they -close the depot. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Winthrop? -Can I fetch you a lil’ glass of sherry, sir?” - -“Nothing, thanks. Yes, though, you might open some of those windows -before you go. And look in my vest pocket and toss me a cigarette case -you’ll find there. I saw matches on the mantel, didn’t I? Thanks. -That’s all. My compliments to Miss Wayne, and tell her I am feeling -much better and that I will be down to dinner――that is, supper.” - -“Don’t you pay no ’tention to the bell,” said Uncle Ran, soothingly. -“Phœbe’ll fetch yo’ supper up to you, sir. I’ll jes’ go ’long now and -get yo’ trunk.” - -Uncle Ran closed the door softly behind him and Winthrop was left -alone. He pulled the spread over himself, gave a sigh of content, and -lighted a cigarette with fingers that still trembled. Then, placing -his hands beneath his head, he watched the smoke curl away toward the -cracked and flaking ceiling and gave himself up to his thoughts. - -What an ass he had made of himself! And what a trump the little lady -had been! He smiled as he recalled the manner in which she had bossed -him around. But who the deuce was she? And who was the young girl with -the big brown eyes? What were they doing here at Waynewood, in his -house? He wished he had not taken things for granted as he had, wished -he had made inquiries before launching himself southward. He must get -hold of that Major Cass and learn his bearings. Perhaps, after all, -there was some mistake and the place didn’t belong to him at all! If -that was the case he had made a pretty fool of himself by walking in -and fainting on the front porch in that casual manner! But he hoped -mightily that there was no mistake, for he had fallen in love at first -sight with the place. If it was his he would fix it up. Then he sighed -as he recollected that until he got firmly on his feet again such a -thing was quite out of the question. - -The cigarette had burned itself down and he tossed it onto the hearth. -The light was fading in the room. Through the open windows, borne on -the soft evening air, came the faint tinkling of distant cow-bells. -For the rest the silence held profoundly save for the gentle singing -of the fire. Winthrop turned on to his side, pillowed his head in his -hand and dropped to sleep. So soundly he slept that when Uncle Ran -tiptoed in with his trunk and bag he never stirred. The old negro -nodded approvingly from the foot of the bed, unstrapped the trunk, laid -a fresh log on the fire, and tiptoed out again. When Winthrop finally -awoke he found a neat colored girl lighting the lamp, while beside it -on the table a well-filled tray was laid. - -“I fetched your supper, Mr. Winthrop,” said Phœbe. - -[Illustration] - -“Thank you, but I really meant to go down. I――I think I fell asleep.” - -“Yes, sir. Miss Indy say good-night, and she hopes you’ll sleep -comfable, sir.” - -“Much obliged,” muttered Winthrop. - -“I’ll be back after awhile to fetch away the tray, sir.” - -“All right.” - -When he was once more alone he arose and laughed softly. - -“Confound the woman! She’s a regular tyrant. I wonder if she’ll let -me get up to-morrow. Oh, well, maybe she’s right. I don’t feel much -like making conversation. Hello! there’s my trunk; I must have slept -soundly, and that’s a fact!” - -Unlocking the trunk, he rummaged through it until he found his -dressing-gown and slippers. With those on he drew a chair to the table -and began his supper. - -“Nice diet for an invalid,” he thought, amusedly, as he uncovered the -hot biscuits. - -But he didn’t object to them, for he found himself very hungry; spread -with the white, crumbly unsalted butter which the repast provided he -found them extremely satisfactory. There was cold chicken, besides, -and egg soufflé, fig preserve and marble cake, and a glass of milk. -Winthrop’s gaze lingered on the milk. - -“No coffee, eh?” he muttered. “Not suitable for invalids, I suppose; -milk much better.” - -But when he had finished his meal the glass of milk still remained -untouched and he observed it thoughtfully. “I fancy Miss Wayne will -see this tray when it goes down and she’ll feel hurt because I haven’t -drunk that infernal stuff.” His gaze wandered around the room until it -encountered the washstand. “Ah!” he said, as he arose. When he returned -to the table the glass was quite empty. Digging his pipe and pouch from -his bag he filled the former and was soon puffing enjoyably, leaning -back in the easy-chair and watching the smouldering fire. - -“Even if I have to get out of here,” he reflected, “I dare say there’s -a hotel or boarding-house in the village where I could put up. I’m -not going back North yet awhile, and that’s certain. But if there’s -anything wrong with my title to Waynewood why shouldn’t they let me -stay here now that I’m established? That’s a good idea, by Jove! I’ll -get my trunk unpacked right away; possession is nine points, they say. -I dare say these folks aren’t so well off but what they’d be willing to -take a respectable gentleman to board.” - -A fluttering at his heart warned him and he laid aside his half-smoked -pipe regretfully and began to unpack his trunk and bag. In the midst of -the task Phœbe appeared to rearrange his bed and bear away the tray, -bidding him good-night in her soft voice as she went. - -By half-past seven his things were in place and, taking up one of the -books which he had brought with him, he settled himself to read. -But voices in the hall below distracted his attention, and presently -footsteps sounded on the stairway, there was a tap at his door and -Phœbe appeared again. - -“Excuse me, sir,” said Phœbe, “but Major Cass say can he see you――――” - -“Phœbe!” called the Major from below. - -“Yes, sir?” - -“You tell Mr. Winthrop that if he’s feeling too tired to see me -to-night I’ll call again to-morrow morning.” - -“Yes, sir.” Phœbe turned to Winthrop. “The Major say――――” - -“All right. Ask the Major to come up,” interrupted Winthrop, tossing -aside his book and exchanging dressing-gown for coat and waistcoat. A -moment later the Major’s halting tread sounded outside the open door -and Winthrop went forward to meet him. - -“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Mr. Winthrop,” said the Major, -as they shook hands. - -“Glad to know you, Major,” replied Winthrop. “Come in, please; try the -arm-chair.” - -The Major bowed his thanks, laid his cane across the table and accepted -the chair which Winthrop pushed forward. Winthrop drew a second chair -to the other side of the fire-place. - -“A fire, Mr. Winthrop,” observed the Major, “is very acceptable these -cool evenings.” - -“Well, I haven’t felt the need of it myself,” replied Winthrop, “but it -was here and it seemed a shame to waste it. I’ll close the windows if -you like.” - -“Not at all, not at all; I like fresh air. I couldn’t have too much of -it, sir, if it wasn’t for this confounded rheumatism of mine. With your -permission, sir.” The Major leaned forward and laid a fresh log on the -fire. Winthrop arose and quietly closed the windows. - -“Do you smoke, Major? I have some cigars here somewhere.” - -“Thank you, sir, if they’re right handy.” He accepted one, held it to -his nose and inhaled the aroma, smiled approvingly and tucked it into -a corner of his mouth. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t light it,” he said. - -“Certainly,” replied Winthrop. - -“I never learned to smoke, Mr. Winthrop,” explained the Major, “and I -reckon I’m too old to begin now. But when I was a boy, and afterwards, -during the war, I got a lot of comfort out of chewing, sir. But it’s a -dirty habit, sir, and I had to give it up. The only way I use tobacco -now, sir, is in this way. It’s a compromise, sir.” And he rolled the -cigar around enjoyably. - -“I see,” replied Winthrop. - -“I trust you are feeling recovered from the effects of your arduous -journey?” inquired the Major. - -“Quite, thank you. I dare say Miss Wayne told you what an ass I made of -myself when I arrived?” - -“You refer to your――ah――momentary indisposition? Yes, Miss India -informed me, and I was very pleased to learn of it.” Winthrop stared -in surprise. “You are feeling better now, sir?” - -“Oh, yes; quite fit, thank you.” - -“I’m very glad to hear it. I must apologize for not being at the -station to welcome you, sir, but I gathered from your letter that you -would not reach Corunna before to-morrow, and I thought that perhaps -you would telegraph me again. I was obliged to drive into the country -this afternoon on business, and only learned of your visit to my office -when I returned. I then took the liberty of calling at the earliest -moment.” - -“And I’m very glad you did,” answered Winthrop, heartily. “There’s a -good deal I want to talk to you about.” - -“I am quite at your service, sir.” - -“Thanks, Major. Now, in the first place, where am I?” - -“Your pardon, Mr. Winthrop?” asked the Major, startledly. - -“I mean,” answered the other, with a smile, “is this Waynewood and does -it belong to me?” - -“This is certainly Waynewood, sir, and I have gathered from your letter -that you had come into possession of it.” - -“All right. Then who, if I may ask the question without seeming -impertinent, who are the ladies down-stairs?” - -“Ah, Mr. Winthrop, I understand your question now,” returned the Major. -“Allow me to explain. I would have done so before had there been -opportunity, but your letter said that you were leaving New York at -once and I presumed that there would be no time for an answer to reach -you.” - -“Quite right, Major.” - -“The ladies are Miss India Wayne and her niece, Miss Holly Wayne, -sister and daughter respectively of my very dear and much lamented -friend Captain Lamar Wayne, whose home this was for many years. At his -death I found myself the executor of his will, sir. He left this estate -and very little else but debts. I did the best I could, Mr. Winthrop, -but Waynewood had to go. It was sold to a Judge Linderman of Georgia, -a very estimable gentleman and a shining light of the State Bar. As he -had no intention of living here I made an arrangement with him whereby -Miss India and her niece might remain here in their home, sir, paying -a――a nominal rent for the place.” - -“A very convenient arrangement, Major.” - -“I am glad to hear you say so,” replied the Major, almost eagerly. -“Judge Linderman, however, was a consarned fool, sir, and couldn’t -let speculation alone. He was caught in a cotton panic and absolutely -ruined. Waynewood then passed to your late partner, Mr. Potter. The -arrangement in force before was extended with his consent, and the -ladies have continued to reside here. They are paying”――(the Major -paused and spat voluminously into the fire)――“they are paying, Mr. -Winthrop, the sum of five dollars a month rent.” - -“A fair figure, I presume, as rents go hereabouts,” observed Winthrop, -subduing a smile. - -The Major cleared his throat. Then he leaned across and laid a large -hand on Winthrop’s knee. - -“A small price, Mr. Winthrop, and that’s the truth. And I don’t deny -that after the property fell into Mr. Potter’s hands I was troubled -right smart by my conscience. As long as it was Judge Linderman it was -all right; he was a Southerner, one of us, and could understand. No -offense intended, Mr. Winthrop. But afterwards when I wrote Mr. Potter -of the arrangement in force and――ah――suggested its continuance, I felt -that maybe I was taking advantage of his absence from the scene. To -be sure the amount was all that the ladies could afford to pay, and -it isn’t likely that Mr. Potter could have found more satisfactory -tenants. Still, I dare say it was my place to tell him that the figure -was pretty cheap, and let him try and do better with the property. I -reckon I allowed my interest in my clients to sway my judgment, Mr. -Winthrop. But I made up my mind when I got your letter and learned you -were coming here that I’d explain things to you, sir, and let you do as -you thought best.” - -“In regard to――――?” - -“In regard to re-renting, sir.” - -“But I had intended occupying the house myself, Major.” - -“So I gathered, sir, so I gathered. But of course you couldn’t know -what the circumstances were, Mr. Winthrop. It isn’t as though the -place was family property, sir, with you; not as though it was your -birthplace and home. It’s just a house and a few acres of ground to -you, sir; it has no――ah――sentimental value. You follow me, sir?” - -“Yes, and you are beginning to make me feel like an interloper, Major -Cass.” - -“God forbid, sir! I had no such intention, I assure you, sir. I am sure -no one could be more welcome at any time to Waynewood, and I trust, -sir, that we shall often have the pleasure of seeing you here, sir.” - -Winthrop’s laugh held a touch of exasperation. - -“But, Great Scott! Major, you’re proposing to turn me out of my own -house!” - -“Bless your soul, sir, don’t say that! Dear, dear! Does it sound that -way to you? My apologies, Mr. Winthrop! I won’t say another word, sir!” - -The Major rolled the cigar agitatedly about in the corner of his loose -mouth. - -“Look here,” said Winthrop, “let’s understand each other, Major. I have -come into possession of this property and we’ll allow for the sake of -the argument that it holds no sentimental value for me. Now what do you -propose I should do? Sign a new rental and pack up my things and go -home again?” - -“Nothing of the kind, sir, I assure you! What I meant to convey was -that as you were intending to stay here in Corunna only two or three -months, you could perhaps be quite as comfortable in the Palmetto House -as at Waynewood. The Palmetto House, sir, is a very well-managed hotel, -sir, and you would receive the most hospitable treatment.” - -“Thanks for your frankness, Major. This Palmetto House is in the -village?” - -“It is, sir. It faces the court-house on the south.” - -“And it has a large garden in front of it, with trees and vines and -roses and a marble Cupid dancing in a bed of box?” - -The Major shook his head regretfully. - -“Well, Major, the place I’ve taken a fancy to boasts of just those -attractions. Don’t you think that perhaps we could somehow arrange it -so that I could stay there?” - -“Do you mean, sir, that you would be willing to remain here as――as a -paying guest?” asked the Major, eagerly. - -Winthrop shrugged his shoulders. - -“Why not? If the ladies are agreeable. At first sight there may be -something a trifle anomalous in the idea of the owner of a property who -has journeyed several hundred miles to occupy it petitioning for the -privilege of being allowed to remain as a boarder, but, of course, I -have the limitations of the Northerner and doubtless fail to get the -correct point of view.” - -But Winthrop’s irony was quite lost on the Major. - -“My dear sir, you have taken a great load from my mind,” exclaimed the -latter. “I had hoped that the difficulty might be surmounted in just -the way you propose, but somehow I gathered after meeting you that -you――ah――resented the presence of the ladies.” - -“Nonsense!” said Winthrop, a trifle impatiently. “Miss Wayne and her -niece are quite welcome to remain here as long as they like. I was, -however, naturally surprised to find anyone in possession. By all -means let us renew the rental agreement. Meanwhile, if the ladies are -agreeable, I will remain here and pay board and room-rent. I dare say -my visit will not cover more than three months. And I will try to be as -little trouble as possible.” - -“Then the matter is settled,” answered the Major, with a gratified -smile. “Unless――――” He paused. - -“More difficulties?” asked Winthrop, patiently. - -“I hope not, sir, but I won’t deny that Miss India may spoil our plans.” - -[Illustration] - -“You mean that she may not want to take a boarder?” - -“Well, it’s this way, Mr. Winthrop.” The Major cleared his throat. -“Miss Wayne has always been prejudiced against Northerners, but――――” - -“Really? But she seemed kindness itself this afternoon.” - -“I’m delighted to hear it, sir, delighted! And allow me to say, Mr. -Winthrop, sir, that you couldn’t have played a stronger card than you -did.” - -“Card? What do you mean, Major?” - -“I mean that in losing consciousness as you did, sir, you accomplished -more than I could have accomplished in an hour’s argument. It was very -well done, sir, for I assure you that it was only by representing you -as an invalid that I was able to prevail on Miss India to remain here, -sir, until your arrival. When I found that I had missed you at the -office I feared that you would perhaps unwittingly give the impression -of being a――a well man, sir, and thus prejudice the lady against you. -But as it happened, sir, you played just the card calculated to win the -trick.” - -“But, Great Scott!” exclaimed Winthrop, exasperatedly; “you don’t think -for a moment, do you, that I deliberately simulated illness in order -to work on her sympathies?” - -“Of course not,” said the Major, earnestly. “How could you have known? -No, no; I merely congratulated you on the fortunate――ah――coincidence, -sir.” - -“Oh! Then I am to understand that as a well man Miss Wayne will refuse -to harbor me, but as an invalid she will consent to do so――for a -consideration?” - -“Exactly, Mr. Winthrop; that is just how it stands, sir.” - -“And having once been accepted will it be necessary for me to continue -to pose as an invalid for the rest of my stay?” he asked dryly. - -“We-ell,” answered the Major, hesitatingly, “I don’t deny that it would -help, but I don’t reckon it’ll be absolutely necessary, sir.” - -Winthrop smiled. - -“I’m glad to hear it, for I’m rather tired of being an invalid, and I -don’t think I should enjoy even making believe for very long. May I -ask whether Miss Wayne’s dislike for persons from my section of the -country is ineradicable, Major?” - -“I sincerely hope not, sir!” replied the Major, earnestly. “Her -brother’s views on the subject were very――ah――settled, sir, and Miss -India had the highest respect for his opinions. But she has never had -the fortune, I believe, to meet with a real Northern gentleman, Mr. -Winthrop.” And the Major bowed courteously. - -“And the niece? Miss――――?” - -“Holly, sir. Well, she is guided largely by her Aunt, Mr. Winthrop, -and doubtless clings to many of her father’s convictions, but she has -a well-developed sense of justice and a warm heart, sir, and I believe -her prejudices can be dispelled.” - -“Well, I appear to be in the enemy’s country, with a vengeance,” said -Winthrop. “How about you, Major? Are you also down on us?” - -“No, Mr. Winthrop. I don’t deny, sir, that shortly after the war I felt -resentment, but that sentiment has long since disappeared. I am honored -with the friendship of several very estimable Northern gentlemen, sir. -Nor must you think the sentiment hereabouts prejudicial to your people, -Mr. Winthrop. Corunna is off the track of the tourist, to be sure; we -have no special attractions here; no big hotels, sir, to cater to him; -but once in a while a Northerner wanders to our town and we have grown -to appreciate his many very excellent qualities, sir.” - -“That’s comforting. I had begun to feel like a pariah.” - -“My dear sir!” expostulated the Major. “Disabuse your mind of such -wrong ideas, Mr. Winthrop. I shall take pleasure in convincing you that -any ill-feeling engendered by the late unpleasantness has quite passed -away. I shall esteem it a great privilege to be allowed to introduce -you to some of our more prominent citizens, sir.” - -“Thank you very much,” answered Winthrop. “The privilege will be mine, -Major. Must you go?” - -“Yes, we mustn’t forget that you are not yet as strong as we hope to -have you after you have been under the treatment of our climate for -awhile, sir. Good-night, Mr. Winthrop. I have enjoyed our little talk, -and it has been a pleasure to meet a gentleman of your attainments, -sir.” - -“You are very good,” Winthrop replied. “It has been a pleasure to meet -you, Major. And may I leave the negotiations in your hands?” - -“You may, sir. I hope to be able to inform you to-morrow that our plan -is successful.” - -“Yes. And in regard to the price to be paid, Major; I’ll leave that -entirely with you as I haven’t any idea what is right.” - -“You may do so, sir. And possibly some day at your convenience you will -drop in at my office and we will attend to the matter of the new lease?” - -“With pleasure, Major. Good-night, sir.” - -Winthrop remained at the door until the Major had reached the lower -hall. Then he closed it and, hands in his pockets, returned to the -fire-place and stared frowningly into the coals. Mechanically he -reached his pipe from the mantel and lighted it with an ember. And -presently, as he smoked, the frown disappeared and he laughed softly. - -“Of all the ridiculous situations!” he muttered. - - - - -VI. - - -Holly came softly down the stairs, one small hand laid upon the -broad mahogany rail to steady her descent, her little slippered feet -twinkling in and out from beneath the hem of her gingham skirt, her -lithe young body swaying in unconscious rhythm with the song she was -singing under her breath. It was not yet seven o’clock, and no one -save the servants was astir. Holly had always been an early riser, and -when the weather permitted the hour before breakfast was spent by her -in the open air. On warm mornings she kept to the grateful shade of -the porch, perching herself on the joggling-board and gently jouncing -herself up and down the while she stared thoughtfully out across the -garden into the cool green gloom of the grove, an exercise undoubtedly -beneficial to the liver but one which would have resulted with most -persons in a total disinclination for breakfast. On those terribly cold -winter mornings when the water-pail on the back porch showed a film of -ice, she slipped down the oleander path and out on to the road for a -brisk walk or huddled herself in a sun-warmed corner at the back of the -house. But this morning, which held neither the heat of summer nor the -tang of frost, when, after unlatching the front door and swinging it -creakingly open, she emerged on to the porch, she stood for a moment -in the deep shadow of it, gazing happily down upon the pleasant scene -before her. - -[Illustration] - -Directly in front of her spread the fragrant quadrangle of the garden, -the paths, edged with crumbling bricks set cantwise in the dark soil, -curving and angling between the beds in formal precision. In the -centre, out of a tangle of rose-bushes and box, the garlanded Cupid, -tinged to pale gold by the early sunlight, smiled across at her. About -him clustered tender blooms of old-fashioned roses, and the path was -sprinkled with the fallen petals. Beyond, the long tunnel between the -oleanders was still filled with the lingering shadows of dawn. To right -and left of the centre bed lay miniature jungles of overgrown shrubs; -roses, deutzias, cape jasmines, Japan quinces, sweet shrubs and all -the luxuriant hodge-podge of a Southern garden somewhat run to seed, -a little down at the heels maybe, but radiantly beautiful in its very -disorder. - -[Illustration] - -On the far side, the garden was bordered with taller -shrubs――crépe-myrtles, mimosas, camelias, which merged imperceptibly -into the trees of the grove. To the right, beyond the bordering path, -a few pear-trees showed their naked branches and a tall frankincense -tree threw delicate shadow-tracery over the corner bed. To the left -were Japan plums and pomegranates and figs, half hiding the picket -fence, and a few youthful orange-trees, descendants of sturdy ancestors -who had lost their lives in the freeze three years before. A huge -magnolia spread its shapely branches over one of the beds, its trunk -encircled by a tempting seat. Ribbon-grass swayed gently here and there -above the rioting shrubbery, and at the corner of the porch, where a -gate gave on to the drive, a clump of banana-trees, which had almost -but not quite borne fruit that year, reared their succulent green stems -in a sunny nook and arched their great broad leaves, torn and ribboned -by the winds, with tropical effect. Near at hand, against the warm red -chimney, climbed a Baltimore Belle, festooning the end of the house for -yards with its tiny, glossy leaves. The shadow of the house cut the -garden sharply into two triangles, the dividing line between sunlight -and shade crossing the pedestal of the smiling Cupid. Everywhere -glistened diamonds of dew, and over all, growing more intense each -instant as the sunlight and warmth grew in ardor, was the thrilling -fragrance of the roses and the box, of damp earth and awakening leaves. - -[Illustration] - -While Holly’s mother had lived the garden had been her pride and -delight. It had been known to fame all through that part of the State -and the beauty of the Wayne roses was a proverb. But now the care of -it fell to Uncle Ran, together with the care of a bewildering number -of other things, and Uncle Ran had neither the time nor the knowledge -to maintain its former perfection. Holly loved it devotedly, knew it -from corner to corner. At an earlier age she had plucked the blossoms -for dolls and played with them for long hours on the seat under the -magnolia. The full-blown roses were grown-up ladies, with beautiful -outspread skirts of pink, white or yellow, and little green waists. -The half-opened roses were young ladies, and tiny white violets, or -waxen orange-blooms or little blossoms of the deutzia were the babies. -For the men, although Holly seldom bothered much with men, there were -the jonquils or the oleanders. She knew well where the first blue -violets were to be found, where the white jonquils broke first from -their green calyces, where the little yellow balls of the opopanax -were sweetest, what rose-petals were best adapted to being formed into -tiny sacs and exploded against the forehead, and many other wonderful -secrets of that fair domain. But in spite of all this, Holly was no -gardener. - -[Illustration] - -She loved flowers just as she loved the deep blue Florida sky with -its hazy edges, the soft wind from the Gulf, the golden sunlight, the -birds and bees and butterflies――just as she loved everything that was -quickened with the wonderful breath of Nature. There was something of -the pagan in Holly when it came to devotion to Nature. And yet she had -no ability to make things grow. From her mother she had inherited the -love of trees and plants and flowers but not the gift of understanding -them. Doubtless the Druids, with all their veneration for the oak and -mistletoe, would have been sorely puzzled had they had to rear their -leafy temples from planted acorns. - -[Illustration] - -Holly went down the steps and, holding her gown away from the -moisture-beaded branches, buried her face in a cluster of pink roses. -Then, struck by a thought, she returned to the house, reappearing -a moment later with her hands encased in a pair of old gloves, and -carrying scissors. - -Aunt India didn’t believe in bringing flowers into the house. “If the -Lord had intended us to have them on the tables and mantels,” she said, -“He’d have put them there. But He didn’t; He meant them to be out -of doors and we ought to be satisfied to admire them where He’s put -them.” Usually Holly respected her Aunt’s prejudice, but to-day seemed -in a way a special occasion. The Cloth of Gold roses seemed crying to -be gathered, and their stems snipped gratefully under the scissors as -she made her way along the edge of the bed. Her hands were almost full -of the big yellow blooms when footsteps sounded on the porch and she -glanced up to see Winthrop descending the steps. She wondered with -sudden dismay whether she was going to blush as she had yesterday, and, -for fear that she was, leaned far over the refractory cluster she was -cutting. Winthrop’s footsteps approached along the sandy walk, and―― - -[Illustration] - -“Good-morning, Miss Holly,” he said. - -“Good-morning,” answered Holly, and, having won her prize started to -straighten up. “I hope――――” - -But instead of finishing the polite inquiry she said “_Oh!_” A branch -of the rose-bush had caught in her hair, and the more she tugged the -more firmly it held. - -“Still a moment,” said Winthrop. He leaned over and disentangled the -thorns. “There you are. I hope I didn’t pull very hard?” - -“Thank you,” murmured Holly, raising a very red face. Winthrop, looking -down into it, smiled; smiled for no particular reason, save that the -morning air was very delightful, the morning sunlight very warm and -cheering, and the face before him very lovely to look at. But Holly, -painfully aware of her burning cheeks, thought he was smiling at her -blushes. “What a silly he must think me!” she reflected, angrily. -“Blushing every time he comes near!” She busied herself with the roses -for a moment. - -“You’ve got more than you can manage, haven’t you?” asked Winthrop. -“Suppose you entrust them to me; then you’ll have your hands free.” - -“I can manage very nicely, thank you,” answered Holly, a trifle -haughtily. - -Winthrop’s smile deepened. - -“Do you know what I think, Miss Holly?” he asked. - -“No,” said Holly, looking about her in a very preoccupied way in search -of more blossoms. - -“I think you’re a little bit resentful because I’ve come to share your -Eden. I believe you were playing that you were Eve and that you were -all alone here except for the serpent.” - -“Playing!” said Holly, warmly. “Please, how old do you think I am, Mr. -Winthrop?” - -“My dear young lady,” answered Winthrop, gravely, “I wouldn’t think -of even speculating on so serious a subject. But supposing you are -very, very old, say seventeen――or even eighteen!――still you haven’t, -I hope, got beyond the age of make-believe. Why, even I――and, as you -will readily see, I have one foot almost in the grave――even I sometimes -make-believe.” - -“Do you?” murmured Holly, very coldly. - -There was silence for a moment during which Holly added further prizes -to her store and Winthrop followed her and watched her in mingled -admiration and amusement――admiration for the grace and beauty and sheer -youth of her, amusement at her evident resentment. - -“I’m sorry,” he said presently, slowly and thoughtfully. - -“At what?” Holly allowed herself a fleeting look at his face. It was -very serious and regretful, but the smile still lurked in the dark -eyes, and Holly’s vanity flew to arms again. - -“Sorry that I’ve said something to displease you,” returned Winthrop. -“You see, I was hoping to make friends with you, Miss Holly.” - -Holly thought of a dozen questions to ask, but heroically refrained. - -“I gathered from Major Cass last evening,” continued Winthrop, “that -Northerners are not popular at Waynewood. But you seemed a very kind -young lady, and I thought that if I could only win you over to my side -you might intercede for me with your aunt. You see, I’d like very much -to stay here, but I’m afraid Miss Wayne isn’t going to take to the -idea. And now I’ve gone and antagonized the very person I meant to win -for an ally.” - -“I don’t see why you can’t stay here if you want to,” answered Holly. -“Waynewood belongs to you.” - -“But what would I do here all alone?” asked Winthrop. “I’m a frightfully -helpless, ignorant chap. Why, I don’t even know how to cook a beefsteak! -And as for beaten biscuit――――!” - -Holly smiled, in spite of herself. - -“But you could hire some servants, I reckon.” - -“Oh, I shouldn’t know how to manage them, really. No, the only way in -which I can remain here is as your guest, Miss Holly. I’ve asked Major -Cass to tell Miss Wayne that, and I’ve no doubt but what he will do -all he can for me, but I fancy that a word from you would help a lot, -Miss Holly. Don’t you think you could tell your aunt that I am a very -respectable sort of a fellow, one who has never been known to give any -trouble? I have been with some of the best families and I can give -references from my last place, if necessary.” - -“I reckon you don’t know Aunt India,” laughed Holly. “If she says you -can’t stay, you can’t, and it wouldn’t do a mite of good if I talked -myself black in the face.” - -Holly turned toward the house and he followed. - -“You think, then,” he asked, “that there’s nothing more we can do to -influence Fate in my behalf?” - -[Illustration] - -Holly ran lightly up the steps, tossed the flowers in a heap on the -porch, and sat down with her back against a pillar. Then she pointed -to the opposite side of the steps. - -“Sit down there,” she commanded. - -[Illustration] - -Winthrop bowed and obeyed. Holly clasped her hands about her knees, and -looked across at him with merry eyes. - -“Mr. Winthrop.” - -“Madam?” - -“What will you give me if I let you stay?” - -“Pardon my incredulity,” replied Winthrop, “but is your permission all -that is necessary?” - -Holly nodded her head many times. - -“If I say you can stay, you can,” she said, decisively. - -“Then in exchange for your permission I will give you half my kingdom,” -answered Winthrop, gravely. - -“Oh, I don’t think I could use half a kingdom. It would be like owning -half a horse, wouldn’t it? Supposing I wanted my half to go and the -other half wouldn’t?” - -“Then take it all.” - -“No, because I reckon your kingdom’s up North, and I wouldn’t want -a kingdom I couldn’t live in. It will have to be something else, I -reckon.” - -“And I have so little with me,” mourned Winthrop. “I dare say you -wouldn’t have any use for a winter overcoat or a pair of patent-leather -shoes? They’re about all I have to offer.” - -“No,” laughed Holly; “anyhow, not the overcoat. Do you think the shoes -would fit me?” - -She advanced one little slippered foot from beyond the hem of her -skirt. Winthrop looked, and shook his head. - -“Honestly, I’m afraid not,” he said. “I don’t believe I ever saw a shoe -that would fit you, Miss Holly.” - -Holly acknowledged the compliment with a ceremonious bow and a little -laugh. - -“I didn’t know you Northerners could pay compliments,” she said. - -“We are a very adaptable people,” answered Winthrop, “and pride -ourselves on being able to face any situation.” - -“But you haven’t told me what you’ll give me, Mr. Winthrop.” - -“I have exhausted my treasures, Miss Holly. There remains only myself. -I throw myself at your feet, my dear young lady; I will be your slave -for life.” - -“Oh, I thought you Northerners didn’t believe in slavery,” said Holly. - -“We don’t believe in compulsory slavery, Miss Holly. To be a slave to -Beauty is always a pleasure.” - -“Another compliment!” cried Holly. “Two before breakfast!” - -“And the day is still young,” laughed Winthrop. - -“Oh, I won’t demand any more, Mr. Winthrop; you’ve done your duty -already.” - -“As you like; I am your slave.” - -“How lovely! I never had a slave before,” said Holly, reflectively. - -“I fear your memory is poor, Miss Holly. I’ll wager you’ve had, and -doubtless still have, a score of them quite as willing as I.” - -Holly blushed a little, but shook her head. - -“Not I. But it’s a bargain, Mr. Winthrop. I won’t keep you for life, -though; when you leave here I’ll give you your ‘freedance,’ as the -negroes say. But while you are here you are to do just as I tell you. -Will you?” she added, sternly. - -“I obey implicitly,” answered Winthrop. “And now?” - -“Why, you may stay, of course. Besides, it was all arranged last -evening. Uncle Major and Auntie fixed it all up between them after he -came down from seeing you. You are to have the room you are in and the -one back of it, if you want it, and you are to pay three dollars and -a-half a week; one dollar for your room and two dollars and a-half for -your board.” - -“But――isn’t that――――?” - -“Please don’t!” begged Holly. “I don’t know anything about it. If it’s -too much, you must speak to Aunt India or Major Cass.” - -“I was about to suggest that it seemed ridiculously little,” said -Winthrop. “But――――” - -“Gracious!” exclaimed Holly. “Uncle Major thought it ought to be more, -but Auntie wouldn’t hear of it. Do you think it should be?” - -“Well, I’m scarcely a disinterested party,” laughed Winthrop, “but it -doesn’t sound much, does it?” - -“Three dollars and a-half!” said Holly, slowly and thoughtfully. Then -she nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, it sounds a whole lot.” She -laughed softly. “It’s very funny, though, isn’t it?” - -“What?” he asked, smiling in sympathy. - -“Why, that you should be paying three dollars and a-half a week for the -privilege of being a slave!” - -“Ah, but that’s it,” answered Winthrop. “It is a privilege, as you say.” - -“Oh!” cried Holly, in simulated alarm. “You’re at it again, Mr. -Winthrop!” - -“At it? At what?” - -“Compliments, compliments, sir! You’ll have none left for this evening -if you don’t take care. Just think; you might meet a beautiful young -lady this evening and not have any compliments for her! Wouldn’t that -be dreadful?” - -“Horrible,” answered Winthrop. “I shudder.” - -“Are you hungry?” asked Holly, suddenly. - -“Hungry? No――yes――I hardly know.” - -“You’re probably starving, then,” said Holly, jumping up and sweeping -the roses into her arms. “I’ll see if breakfast isn’t nearly ready. -Auntie doesn’t come down to breakfast very often, and it’s my place to -see that it’s on time. But I never do, and it never is. Do you love -punctuality, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Can’t bear it, Miss Holly.” - -She stood a little way off, smiling down at him, a soft flush in her -cheeks. - -“You always say just the right thing, don’t you?” She laughed. “How do -you manage it?” - -“Long practice, my dear young lady. When you’ve lived as long as I have -you will have discovered that it is much better to say the right thing -than the wrong――even when the right thing isn’t altogether right.” - -“Yes, I reckon so, but――sometimes it’s an awful temptation to say the -wrong, isn’t it? Are you awfully old? May I guess?” - -“I shall be flattered.” - -“Then――forty?” - -Winthrop sighed loudly. - -“Too much? Wait! Thirty――thirty-seven?” - -“Thirty-eight.” - -“Is that very old? I shall be eighteen in a few days.” - -“Really? Then, you see, I have already lived twice as long as you have.” - -“Yes,” Holly nodded, thoughtfully. “Do you know, I don’t think I want -to live to be real, real old; I think I’d rather die before――before -that.” - -“And what do you call real, real old?” asked Winthrop. - -“Oh, I don’t know; fifty, I reckon.” - -“Then I have twelve years longer to live,” said Winthrop, gravely. - -Holly turned a pair of startled eyes upon him. - -“No, no! It’s different with you; you’re a man.” - -“Oh, that makes a difference?” - -“Lots! Men can do heaps of things, great, big things, after they’re -old, but a woman――――” She paused and shrugged her shoulders in a funny, -exaggerated way that Winthrop thought charming. “What is there for a -woman when she’s that old?” - -“Much,” answered Winthrop, gravely, “if she has been a wise woman. -There should be her children to love and to love her, and if she has -married the right man there will be that love, too, in the afternoon of -her life.” - -“Children,” murmured Holly. “Yes, that would be nice; but they wouldn’t -be children then, would they? And――supposing they died before? The -woman would be terribly lonely, wouldn’t she――in the afternoon?” - -Winthrop turned his face away and looked out across the sunlit garden. - -“Yes,” he said, very soberly; “yes, she would be lonely.” - -Something in his tones drew Holly’s attention. How deep the lines about -his mouth were this morning, and how gray the hair was at his temples; -she had not noticed it before. Yes, after all, thirty-eight was quite -old. That thought or some other moved her to a sudden sentiment of -pity. Impulsively she tore one of the big yellow roses from the bunch -and with her free hand tossed it into his lap. - -“Do you know, Mr. Winthrop,” she said, softly, “I reckon we’re going to -be friends, you and I,――that is, if you want to.” - -Winthrop sprang to his feet, the rose in his hand. - -“I do want to, Miss Holly,” he said, earnestly. Somehow, before she -realized it, Holly’s hand was in his. “I want it very much. I haven’t -very many friends, I guess, and when one gets toward forty he doesn’t -find them as easily as he did. Is it a bargain, then? We are to be -friends, very good friends, Miss Holly?” - -“Yes,” answered Holly, simply, “very good friends.” - -Her dark eyes looked seriously into his for a moment. Then she withdrew -her hand, laughed softly under her breath and turned toward the door. -But on the threshold she looked back over her shoulder, the old -mischief in her face. - -“But don’t you go and forget that you’re my slave, Mr. Winthrop,” she -said. - -“Never! You have fettered me with roses.” - - - - -VII. - - -[Illustration] - -Miss India made no exception that morning to her general rule, and -Holly presided over the coffee cups. The table was rather large, and -although Winthrop’s place was in the middle, facing the open door onto -the back porch, there was quite an expanse of emptiness between him -and his hostess. Through the door and across the bridge to the kitchen -Phœbe trotted at minute intervals to bring fresh relays of hot biscuits -and buckwheat cakes. The dining-room was rather shabby. The walls -were papered in dark brown, and the floor was covered with linoleum. -A mahogany sideboard, which took up quite ten feet of one end of the -room, looked sadly out of its element. Three pictures in tarnished gilt -frames hung by thick green cords very close to the ceiling, so that -Winthrop was spared the necessity of close examination, something which -they did not invite. But for all its shabbiness there was something -comfortable about the room, something homey that made the old dishes -with their chipped edges and half-obliterated ornamentation seem -eminently suitable, and that gave Winthrop a distinct sensation of -pleasure. - -He found that, in spite of his previous uncertainty, he was very -hungry, and, although he had hard work to keep from grimacing over -the first taste of the coffee, he ate heartily and enjoyed it all. -And while he ate, Holly talked. Sometimes he slipped in a word of -comment or a question, but they were not necessary so far as Holly -was concerned. There was something almost exciting for her in the -situation. To have an audience who was quite fresh and sympathetic was -an event in her life, and there are so many, many things one has to -say at eighteen. And Winthrop enjoyed it almost as much as Holly. Her -_naive_ views of life amused even while they touched him. She seemed -very young for her age, and very unsophisticated after the Northern -girls Winthrop knew. And he found her voice and pronunciation charming, -besides. He loved the way she made “I” sound like “Ah,” the way she -narrowed some vowels and broadened others, her absolute contempt for -the letter “r.” The soft drawl of Southern speech was new to him, and -he found it fascinating. Once Holly stopped abruptly in the middle of -a sentence, laid her left hand palm downwards on the edge of the table -and struck her knuckles sharply with the handle of her knife. - -“What’s the matter?” inquired Winthrop, in surprise. - -“Punishment,” answered Holly, gravely, the chastised hand held against -her lips. “You see there are three words that Auntie doesn’t like me -to use, and when I do use them I rap my knuckles.” - -“Oh,” smiled Winthrop, “and does it help?” - -“I don’t reckon it’s helped much yet,” said Holly, “but maybe it will. -It sure does hurt, though.” - -“And may I ask what the words are?” - -“One is ‘Fiddle.’ Does that sound very bad to you?” - -“N-no, I think not. What does it signify, please?” - -“Oh, you just say ‘Fiddle’ when――when something happens you don’t like.” - -“I see; ‘Fiddle;’ yes, quite expressive. And the others?” - -“‘Shucks’ is one of them.” - -“Used, I fancy, in much the same sense as ‘Fiddle’?” - -Holly nodded. - -“Only――only not so much so,” she added. - -“Certainly not,” replied Winthrop. “I understand. For instance, if you -fell down stairs you’d say ‘Fiddle!’ but if you merely bumped your -head you’d say ‘Shucks!’” - -“Yes,” laughed Holly. - -“And the third prohibited word?” asked Winthrop. - -“That’s――that’s――――” Holly bent her head very meekly over her -plate――“that’s ‘Darnation!’” - -“Expressive, at least,” laughed Winthrop. “That is reserved, I suppose, -for such extraordinary occasions as when you fall from a sixth-story -window?” - -“No; I say that when I stick a needle into my finger,” answered Holly. -“It seems to suit better than ‘Fiddle’ or ‘Shucks;’ don’t you think so, -Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Well, I don’t remember ever having stuck a needle into my finger, but -I’ll try it some time and give you my candid opinion on the question.” - -After breakfast Winthrop wandered out into the garden and from thence -into the grove beyond. There were pines and cedars here, and oaks, and -other trees which he didn’t know the names of. The gray-green Spanish -moss draped an occasional limb, and at times there was some underbrush. -Finding the drive, he followed it toward the gate, but before reaching -the latter he struck off again through a clearing and climbed a little -knoll on the summit of which a small brick-walled enclosure guarded -by three huge oaks attracted his attention and aroused his curiosity. -But he didn’t open the little iron gate when he reached it. Within the -square enclosure were three graves, two close together near at hand, -one somewhat removed. From where he leaned across the crumbling wall -Winthrop could read the inscriptions on the three simple headstones. -The farther grave was that of “John Wayne, born Fairfield, Kentucky, -Feb. 1, 1835; fell at Malvern Hill, July 1, 1862; interred in this spot -July 28, 1862.” - -The nearer of the two graves which lay together was that, as Winthrop -surmised, of Holly’s mother. Behind the headstone a rose-bush had been -planted, and this morning one tiny bloom gleamed wanly in the shadow -of the wall. “To the Beloved Memory of Margaret Britton, Wife of Lamar -Wayne; Sept. 3, 1853–Jan. 1, 1881. Aged 27 years. ‘The balmy zephyrs, -silent since her death, Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.’” - -Winthrop’s gaze turned to the stone beside it. - -“Here lies,”――he read――“the Body of Captain Lamar Wayne, C. S. A., who -was born in Fairfield, Kentucky, Aug, 4, 1842, and died at Waynewood, -Sept. 21, 1892, aged 50 years. ‘Happier for me that all our hours -assign’d, Together we had lived; ev’n not in death disjoined.’” - -Here, thought Winthrop, was hint of a great love. He compared the -dates. Captain Wayne had lived twelve years after his wife’s death. -Winthrop wondered if those years had seemed long to him. Probably not, -since he had Holly to care for――Holly, whom Winthrop doubted not, was -very greatly like her mother. To have the child spared to him! Ah, -that was much. Winthrop’s eyes lifted from the quiet space before him -and sought the distant skyline as his thoughts went to another grave -many hundred miles away. A mocking-bird flew into one of the oaks -and sang a few tentative notes, and then was silent. Winthrop roused -himself with a sigh and turned back down the knoll toward the house, -which stood smiling amidst its greenery a few hundred yards away. - -As he entered the hall he heard Holly in converse with Aunt Venus on -the back porch, and as he glanced through the doorway she moved into -sight, her form silhouetted against the sunlight glare. But he gave her -only a passing thought as he mounted the stairs to his room. The spell -of the little graveyard on the knoll and of that other more distant one -was still with him, and remained until, having got his hat and cane, he -passed through the open gate and turned townward on the red clay road. - -Major Cass was seated in his cushioned arm-chair with his feet on -his desk and a sheepskin-covered book spread open on his knees when -Winthrop obeyed the invitation to enter. - -“Ah, Mr. Winthrop, sir, good-morning,” said the Major, as he tossed the -book on to the desk and climbed to his feet. “Your rest has done you -good, sir; I can see that. Feeling more yourself to-day, eh?” - -“Quite well, thanks,” answered Winthrop, accepting the arm-chair which -his host pushed toward him. “I thought I’d come down and hear the -verdict and attend to the matter of the rental.” - -“Yes, yes,” said the Major. “Very kind of you, sir.” - -He limped to a cupboard in one corner and returned with a jug and two -not overly clean glasses, which he set on the desk, brushing aside -a litter of papers and books. “You will join me, Mr. Winthrop, in a -little liquor, sir, I trust?” - -“A very little, then,” answered Winthrop. “I’m still under doctor’s -orders, you know.” - -“As little as you like,” rejoined the Major, courteously, “but we -must drink to the success of our conspiracy, sir. The matter is all -arranged. Miss India was――ah――surprisingly complacent, sir.” The Major -handed the glass to Winthrop with a bow. “Your very good health, sir!” - -During the subsequent talk, in which the Major explained the terms -of the bargain as Winthrop had already learned them from Holly, the -visitor was able to look about him. The room was small and square -save for the projecting fire-place at one side. A window on the front -overlooked the street which led to Waynewood, while through another on -the side of the building Winthrop could see the court-house behind its -border of oaks, the stores across the square and, peering from behind -the court-house, the end of the Palmetto House with its long gallery. -It was Saturday, and the town looked quite busy. Ox-carts, farm wagons -drawn by mules, and broken-down buggies crawled or jogged past the -window on their way to the hitching-place. In front of the court-house, -in the shade, were half-a-dozen carts loaded with bales of cotton, and -the owners with samples in hand were making the round of the buyers. -The sidewalks were thronged with negroes, and the gay medley of the -voices came through the open window. - -[Illustration] - -A set of shelves occupied the end of the room beside the door and were -filled to overflowing with yellow law books. The mantel was crowded -with filing cases and a few tin boxes. Beside the front window a -small, old-fashioned safe held more books. Besides these there was -only the plain oak desk, two chairs and the aforementioned cupboard to -be seen, if one excepts the wall decorations in the shape of colored -advertisements and calendars and a box filled with sawdust beside the -arm-chair. The Major had tucked a greenish and very damp cigar in the -corner of his mouth, and Winthrop soon discovered the necessity for the -box. - -Presently the new rental agreement was signed and the Major, after -several abortive attempts, flung open the door of the safe and put -it carefully away in one of the compartments. Then he took up his -broad-brimmed black felt hat and reached for his cane. - -[Illustration: PRESENTLY THE NEW RENTAL AGREEMENT WAS SIGNED] - -“And now, Mr. Winthrop,” he said, “we’ll just take a walk around the -town, sir; I’d like you to meet some of our citizens, sir.” - -Winthrop good-naturedly acquiesced and preceded the Major down the -stairs. During the next hour-and-a-half Winthrop was impressively -introduced to and warmly welcomed by some two dozen of Corunna’s -foremost citizens, from ’Squire Parish, whom they discovered buying a -bale of cotton in the dim recess of his hardware store, to Mr. “Cad” -Wilson, who wiped his hand on a towel before reaching it across the bar -to add his welcome. - -“Not one of the aristocracy,” explained the Major, as they took their -way out after drinking Winthrop’s health in Bourbon, “but a gentleman -at heart, sir, in spite of his business, sir. When in need of liquid -refreshment, Mr. Winthrop, you will find his place the best in town, -sir, and you may always depend on receiving courteous treatment.” - -The post-office, toward which they bent their steps after breasting Mr. -“Cad” Wilson’s swinging doors, proved to be a veritable stamping-ground -for Corunna’s celebrities. There Winthrop was introduced to the -Reverend Mr. Fillock, the Presbyterian minister; to Mr. “Ham” Somes, -the proprietor of the principal drug store; to Colonel Byers, in from -his plantation a few miles outside of town to look up an express -shipment, and the postmaster himself, Major Warren, who displayed an -empty sleeve and, as Winthrop’s guide explained, still never took a -drink without preceding it with the toast, “Secession, sah!” - -When Colonel Byers alluded to the missing express package the Major -chuckled. - -“Colonel,” he said, “’taint another of those boxes of hardware, is it?” - -The Colonel laughed and shook his head, and the Major turned to -Winthrop with twinkling eyes. - -“You see, Mr. Winthrop, the Colonel got a box of hardware by express -some years ago; from Savannah, wan’t it, Colonel?” - -“Atlanta, sir.” - -“Well, anyhow, the Colonel was busy and didn’t get into town right -away, and one day he got a letter from the express agent, saying: -‘Please call for your box of hardware as it’s leaking all over the -floor.’” - -The Colonel appeared to enjoy the story quite as much as the Major, and -Winthrop found their mirth quite as laugh-provoking as the tale. - -“And I have heard that the Colonel never got to town in as quick time -as he did then!” - -“Morning, Harry,” said the Major, turning to the newcomer. “I reckon -you heard just about right, Harry. I want to introduce you to my friend -Mr. Winthrop, of New York, sir. Mr. Winthrop, shake hands with Mr. -Bartow. Mr. Bartow, sir, represents us at the Capital.” - -“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, sir,” said the Honorable Mr. -Bartow. “You are staying with us for awhile, sir?” - -“Yes, probably for a few months,” replied Winthrop. - -“Good, sir; I am pleased to hear it. You must give me the pleasure of -taking dinner with me some day, sir. I’ll get the Major to arrange it -at your convenience.” - -“And bring Mr. Winthrop out to Sunnyside, Lucius,” said the Colonel. -“Some Sunday would be best, I reckon.” - -Winthrop accepted the invitations――or perhaps the Major did it for -him――and after shaking hands with the Colonel and the Honorable -Harry Bartow he was conducted forth by his guide. Their course along -the sunlit street was often interrupted, and Winthrop’s list of -acquaintances grew with each interruption. It was quite evident that -being vouched for by Major Lucius Quintus Cass stood for a good deal, -and in every case Winthrop’s welcome was impressively courteous. -Once or twice the Major was stopped by men to whom Winthrop was not -introduced. After one such occasion the Major said, as they went on: - -“Not one of our kind, Mr. Winthrop; his acquaintance would be of no -benefit, sir.” - -Winthrop noticed that not once did the Major in his introductions -allude to the former’s ownership of Waynewood. And evidently the Major -concluded that the fact required elucidation, for when they had finally -returned to the corner where stood the Major’s office the latter said: - -“You may have observed, Mr. Winthrop, that I have not mentioned your -ownership of Waynewood. I thought it as well not to, sir, for as you -do not intend to take possession this winter there can be no harm in -allowing folks to remain in ignorance of――ah――the change. It will make -it much easier, sir, for Miss India and her niece. You agree with me?” - -“Entirely,” replied Winthrop, suppressing a smile. “We will keep the -fact a secret for awhile, Major.” - -“Quite so, sir, quite so. And now, sir, I should be delighted if you -would take dinner with me at the hotel, if you will be so kind.” - -But Winthrop declined and, thanking the other for his kindness, shook -hands and turned his steps homeward, or, at least, toward Waynewood; he -had begun to doubt his possession of that place. - - - - -VIII. - - -Winthrop had been at Waynewood a week――a week of which one day had -been so like the next that Winthrop remembered them all with impartial -haziness and content. It was delightful to have nothing more startling -to look forward to than a quail-shoot, a dinner at Sunnyside, or a game -of whist in town; to have each day as alike in mellowness and sunshine -as they were similar in events, pass softly across the garden, from -shadow to shadow, the while he watched its passage with tranquilly -smiling eyes and inert body from the seat under the magnolia or a chair -on the quiet porch. - -The past became the flimsiest of ghosts, the future a mere insignificant -speck on the far horizon. What mattered it that once his heart had -ached? That he was practically penniless? That somewhere men were -hurrying and striving for wealth? The sky was hazily blue, the sunlight -was wine of gold, the southern breeze was the soothing touch of a soft -and fragrant hand that bade him rest and sleep, for there was no -yesterday and no morrow, and the taste of lotus was sweet in his mouth. -The mornings danced brightly past to the lilt of bird song; the -afternoons paced more leisurely, crossing the tangled garden with -measured, somnolent tread so quiet that not a leaf stirred, not a bird -chirped in the enfolding silence; the evenings grew from purple haze, -fragrant with wood-smoke, to blue-black clarity set with a million -silver stars whose soft radiance bathed the still world with tender -light. Such days and such nights have a spell, and Winthrop was bound. - -And Holly? Fate, although she was still unsuspecting of the fact, -had toppled the stone into the stream and the ripples were already -widening. Winthrop’s coming had been an event. Holly had her friends, -girls of her own age, who came to Waynewood to see her and whom she -visited in town, and young men in the early twenties who walked or -drove out in the evenings, when their duties in the stores and offices -were over, and made very chivalrous and distant love to her in the -parlor. But for all that many of the days had been long with only -Aunt India, who was not exactly chatty, and the servants to talk to. -But now it was different. This charming and delightfully inexplicable -Northerner was fair prey. He was never too busy to listen to her; -in fact, he was seldom busy at all, unless sitting, sometimes with -a closed book in one’s lap, and gazing peacefully into space may be -termed being busy. They had quite exciting mornings together very -often, exciting, at least, for Holly, when she unburdened herself of -a wealth of reflections and conclusions and when he listened with the -most agreeable attention in the world and always said just the right -thing to tempt her tongue to more brilliant ardor. - -And then in the afternoons, while Aunt India slept and Holly couldn’t, -just because the blood ran far too fast in her young veins, there -were less stimulating but very comforting talks in the shade of the -porch. And sometimes they walked, but,――for Holly had inherited -the characteristic disinclination for overindulgence in that form -of exercise,――not very frequently. Holly would have indorsed the -proverb――Persian, isn’t it?――which says, in part, that it is easier to -sit than to stand and easier to lie down than to sit. And Winthrop at -this period would have agreed with her. Judged by Northern standards, -Holly might have been deemed lazy. But we must remember that Holly came -of people who had never felt the necessity of physical exertion, since -there had always been slaves at hand to perform the slightest task, and -for whom the climate had prohibited any inclination in that direction. -Holly’s laziness was that of a kitten, which seldom goes out to walk -for pleasure but which will romp until its breath is gone or stalk a -sparrow for an hour untiringly. - -By the end of the first week she and Winthrop had become the very good -friends they had agreed to be. They had reached the point where it was -no longer necessary to preface their conversation with an introduction. -Now when Holly had anything to say――and she usually did――she plunged -right in without any preliminary shivers. As this morning when, -having given out the supplies for the day to Aunt Venus, she joined -Winthrop under the magnolia, settling her back against the trunk and -clasping her hands about her knees, “I reckon there are two sides to -everything,” she said, with the air of one who is announcing the result -of long study. - -Winthrop, who had arisen at her approach and remained standing until -she had seated herself, settled back again and smiled encouragingly. -He liked to hear her talk, liked the soft coo of her voice, liked the -things she said, liked, besides, to watch the play of expression on her -face. - -“Father always said that the Yankees had no right to interfere with -the South and that it wasn’t war with them, it was just homicide. -Homicide’s where you kill someone else, isn’t it? I always get it mixed -up with suicide.” - -Winthrop nodded. - -“That’s what he used to say, and I’m sure he believed it or he’d never -have said it. But maybe he was mistaken. Was he, do you think?” - -“He might have been a trifle biased,” said Winthrop. - -Holly was silent a moment. Then―――― - -“Uncle Major,” she continued, “used to argue with him, but father -always had the best of it. I reckon, though, you Northerners are sorry -now, aren’t you?” - -“Sorry that there was war, yes,” answered Winthrop, smilingly; “but not -sorry for what we did.” - -“But if it was wrong?” argued Holly. “’Pears to me you ought to be -sorry! Just see the heaps and heaps of trouble you made for the South! -Julian says that you ought to have paid us for every negro you took -away from us.” - -“Indeed? And who, may I ask, is Julian?” - -“Julian Wayne is my cousin, my second cousin. He graduated from medical -college last year. He lives in Marysville, over yonder.” Holly nodded -vaguely toward the grove. - -“Practising, is he?” - -“He’s Dr. Thompson’s assistant,” said Holly. “He’s getting experience. -After awhile he’s going to come to Corunna.” There was a pause. “He’s -coming over to-morrow to spend Sunday.” - -“Really? And does he make these trips very often?” - -“Oh, every now and then,” answered Holly, carelessly. - -“Perhaps there is an attraction hereabouts,” suggested Winthrop. - -“Maybe it’s Aunt India,” said Holly, gravely. - -Winthrop laughed. - -“Is he nice, this Cousin Julian?” he asked. - -Holly nodded. - -“He’s a dear boy. He’s very young yet, only twenty-three.” - -“And eighteen from twenty-three leaves five,” teased Winthrop. “I’ve -heard, I think, that ten is the ideal disparity in years for purposes -of marriage, but doubtless five isn’t to be sneezed at.” - -Holly’s smooth cheeks reddened a little. - -“A girl ought to marry a man much older than herself,” she said, -decisively. - -“Oh! Then Julian won’t do?” - -“I haven’t decided,” Holly laughed. “Maybe. He’s nice. I wonder if -you’ll like him. Will you try to, please? He――he’s awfully down on -Northerners, though.” - -“That’s bad,” said Winthrop, seriously. “Perhaps he won’t approve of -me. Do you think I’d better run away over Sunday? I might go out to -visit Colonel Byers; he’s asked me.” - -“Silly!” said Holly. “He won’t eat you!” - -“Well, that’s comforting. I’ll stay, then. The dislike of Northerners -seems to be a strong trait in your family, Miss Holly.” - -“Oh, some Northerners are quite nice,” she answered, with a challenging -glance. - -“I wonder,” he asked, with intense diffidence, “I wonder――if I’m -included among the quite nice ones?” - -“What do you think, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Well, I’ve always thought rather well of myself until I came to -Corunna. But now that I have learned just how poor a lot Northerners -are, I find myself rather more modest.” - -Winthrop sighed depressedly. - -“I’ll change it,” said Holly, her eyes dancing. “I’ll say instead that -_one_ Northerner is very nice.” - -“You said ‘quite nice’ before.” - -“That just shows that I like you better every minute,” laughed the girl. - -Winthrop sighed. - -“It’s a dangerous course you’re pursuing, Miss Holly,” he said, sadly. -“If you aren’t awfully careful you’ll lose a good slave and find a poor -admirer.” - -“My admirers must be my slaves, too,” answered Holly. - -“I am warned. I thank you. I could never play a dual rôle, I fear.” - -Holly pouted. - -“Then which do you choose?” she asked, aggrievedly. - -“To be your slave, my dear young lady; I fancy that rôle would be more -becoming to middle-age and, at all events, far less hazardous.” - -“But if I command you to admire me you’ll have to, you see; slaves must -obey.” - -“I haven’t waited for the command,” replied Winthrop. - -“You blow hot and cold, sir. First you refuse to be my admirer and then -you declare that you do admire me. What am I to believe?” - -“That my heart and brain are at war, Miss Holly. My heart says: ‘Down -on your knees!’ but my brain says: ‘Don’t you do it, my boy; she’ll -lead you a dance that your aged limbs won’t take kindly to, and in the -end she’ll run out of your sight, laughing, leaving you to sorrow and -liniment!” - -“You have as good as called me a coquette, Mr. Winthrop,” charged -Holly, severely. - -“Have I? And, pray, what have you been doing for the last ten minutes -but coquetting with me, young lady? Tell me that.” - -“Have I?” asked Holly, with a soft little laugh. “Do you mind?” - -“Mind? On the contrary, do you know, I rather like it? So go right -ahead; you are keeping your hand in, and at the same time flattering -the vanity of one who has reached the age when to be used even for -target practice is flattering.” - -“Your age troubles you a great deal, doesn’t it?” asked Holly, -ironically. “Please, why do you always remind me of it? Are you afraid -that I’ll lose my heart to you and that you’ll have to refuse me?” - -“Well, you have seen me for a week,” answered Winthrop, modestly, “and -know my irresistible charm.” - -Holly was silent a moment, her brown eyes fixed speculatively on the -man’s smiling face. Then―――― - -“You must feel awfully safe,” she said, with conviction, “to talk the -way you do. And I reckon I know why.” - -“And may I know, too?” - -“No; that is, you do know already, and I’m not going to tell you. Oh, -what time is it, please?” - -Winthrop drew out his watch and then, with a shrug, dropped it back -into his pocket. - -“I can’t tell you. The fact is, I forgot to wind it last night. Why -should I wind it, anyhow? What does it matter what time it is in this -place? If the sun is there, I know it’s morning; if it’s somewhere -overhead, I know it’s noon; when it drops behind the trees, I know -it’s evening; when it disappears, I know it’s night――and I go to -sleep. Watches and clocks are anachronisms here. Like arctics and fur -overcoats.” - -“I shall go and find out,” said Holly, rising. - -“Why waste time and effort in the pursuit of unprofitable knowledge?” -sighed Winthrop. But he received no answer, for his companion was -already making her way through the garden. Winthrop laid his head -back against the tree and, with half-closed eyes, smiled lazily and -contentedly up into the brown-and-green leafage above. And as he did -so a thought came to him, a most ridiculous, inappropriate thought, a -veritable serpent-in-Eden thought; he wondered what “A. S. common” was -selling for! He drove the thought away angrily. What nonsense! If he -wasn’t careful he’d find himself trying to remember the amount of his -balance in bank! Odd what absurd turns the mind was capable of! Well, -the only way to keep his mind away from idle speculation was to turn -his thoughts toward serious and profitable subjects. So he wondered why -the magnolia leaves were covered with green satin on top and tan velvet -beneath. But before he had arrived at any conclusion Holly came back, -bearing a glass containing a milky-white liquid and a silver spoon. - -[Illustration] - -“It’s past the time,” she said. - -“Then you shouldn’t have bothered to bring it,” answered Winthrop, -regretfully. “But never mind; we’ll try and remember it at supper time.” - -“But you must take it now,” persisted Holly, firmly. - -“But I fear it wouldn’t do any good. You see, your Aunt said distinctly -an hour before meals. The psychological moment has passed, greatly to -my rel――regret.” - -“Please!” said Holly, holding the glass toward him. “You know it’s -doing you heaps of good.” - -“Yes, but that’s just it, don’t you see, Miss Holly? If I continue to -take it I’ll be quite well in no time, and that would never do. Would -you deprive your Aunt of the pleasure she is now enjoying of dosing me -thrice a day with the most nauseous mixture that was ever invented?” - -“Shucks! It isn’t so terribly bad,” laughed Holly. - -Winthrop observed her sternly. - -“Have you sampled it, may I ask?” - -Holly shook her head. - -“Then please do so. It will do you lots of good, besides preventing you -from making any more well-meant but inaccurate remarks. And you have -been looking a bit pale the last day or two, Miss Holly.” - -Holly viewed the mixture dubiously, hesitatingly. - -“Besides, you said ‘Shucks,’ and you owe yourself punishment.” - -“Well――――” Holly swallowed a spoonful, tried not to shiver, and -absolutely succeeded in smiling brightly afterwards. - -“Well?” asked Winthrop, anxiously. - -“I――I think it has calomel in it,” said Holly. - -“I feared it.” He shook his head and warded off the proffered glass. “I -am a homœopath.” - -“You’re a baby, that’s what you are!” said Holly, tauntingly. - -“Ha! No one shall accuse me of cowardice.” He clenched his hands. -“Administer it, please.” - -Holly moved toward him until her skirt brushed his knees. As she dipped -the spoon a faint flush crept into her cheeks. Winthrop saw, and -understood. - -“No, give it to me,” he said. “I will feed myself. Then, no matter what -happens――and I fear the worst!――you will not be implicated.” - -Holly yielded the glass and moved back, watching him sympathetically -while he swallowed two spoonfuls of the medicine. - -“Was it awfully bad?” she asked, as he passed the glass to her with a -shudder. - -Winthrop reflected. Then: - -“Frankly, it was,” he replied. “But it’s a good deal like having your -teeth filled; it’s almost worth it for the succeeding glow of courage -and virtue and relief it brings. Put it out of sight, please, and let -us talk of pleasant things.” - -“What?” asked Holly, as she sat down once more on the bench. - -“Well, let me see. Suppose, Miss Holly, you tell me how you came to -have such a charming and unusual name.” - -“My mother gave it to me,” answered Holly, softly. “She was very fond -of holly.” - -“I beg your pardon,” exclaimed Winthrop. “It was an impertinent -question.” - -“Oh, no. My mother only lived a little while after I was born――about -five weeks. She died on New Year’s morning. On Christmas Day father -picked a spray of holly from one of the bushes down by the road. It -was quite full of red berries and so pretty that he took it in to my -mother. Father said she took it in her hands and cried a little over -it, and he was sorry he had brought it to her. They had laid me beside -her in the bed and presently she placed the holly sprig over me and -kissed me and looked at father. She couldn’t talk very much then. -But father understood what she meant. ‘Holly?’ he asked, and mother -smiled, and――and that was ‘how come.’” Holly, her hands clasped between -her knees, looked gravely and tenderly away across the sunny garden. -Winthrop kept silence for a moment. Then―――― - -“I fancy they loved each other very dearly, your father and mother,” he -said. - -“Oh, they did!” breathed Holly. “Father used to tell me――about it. He -always said I was just like my mother. It――it must have been beautiful. -Do you reckon,” she continued wistfully, “people love that way -nowadays?” - -“To-day, yesterday, and to-morrow,” answered Winthrop. “The great -passions――love, hate, acquisitiveness――are the same now as in the -beginning, and will never change while the earth spins around. I hope, -Miss Holly, that the years will bring you as great a love and as happy -a one as your mother’s.” - -Holly viewed him pensively a moment. Then a little flush crept into her -cheeks and she turned her head away. - -“No,” she said, “I’m not dear and sweet and gentle like my mother. -Besides, maybe I’d never find a man like my father.” - -“Perhaps not,” replied Winthrop, “although I hope you will. But even -if not, I wouldn’t despair. Love is a very wonderful magician, who -transmutes clay into gold, transforms baseness into nobility, and -changes caitiffs into kings.” He laughed amusedly. “Great Scott! I’m -actually becoming rhetorical! It’s this climate of yours, Miss Holly; -there is something magical about it; it creeps into one’s veins like -wine and makes one’s heart thump at the sound of a bird’s song. Why, -hang it, in another week I shall find myself singing love songs under -your window on moonlight nights!” - -“Oh, that would be lovely!” cried Holly, clapping her hands. “I haven’t -been serenaded for the longest time!” - -“Do you mean that such things are really done here?” - -“Of course! The boys often serenade. When I came home from the -Academy, Julian and a lot of them serenaded me. It was a white, white -night and they stood over there under my windows; I remember how black -their shadows were on the path. Julian and Jim Stuart played guitars -and some of the others had banjos, and it was heavenly!” - -“And such things still happen in this prematurely-aged, materialistic -world!” marvelled Winthrop. “It sounds like a fairy tale!” - -“I reckon it sounds silly to you,” said Holly. - -“Silly! Oh, my dear young lady, if you could only realize how very, -very rich you are!” - -“Rich?” - -“Yes, rich and wise with the unparalleled wealth and wisdom of -Youth! Hearken to the words of Age and Experience, Miss Holly,” he -continued, half jestingly, half seriously. “The world belongs to -you and your kind; it is the Kingdom of Youth. The rest of us are -here on sufferance; but you belong. The world tolerates Age, but to -Youth it owes allegiance and love. But your days are short in your -kingdom, O Queen, so make the most of them; laugh and play and love -and _live_; above all, live! And above all be extravagant, extravagant -of laughter――and of tears; extravagant of affection; run the gamut of -life every hour; be mad, be foolish――but _live_! And so when the World -thrusts you to one side, saying: ‘The King is dead! Long live the -King!’ you will have no regrets for a wasted reign, but can say: ‘While -I ruled, I lived!’” - -“I――I don’t understand――quite!” faltered Holly. - -“Because you are too wise.” - -“I reckon you mean too stupid,” mourned Holly. - -“Too wise. You are Youth, and Youth is Perfect Wisdom. When you grow -old you will know more but be less wise. And the longer you live the -more learning will come to you and the more wisdom will depart. And -in proof of this I point to myself as an example. For no wise person -would try to convince Youth of its wisdom.” Winthrop stopped and drew -his cigarette-case from his pocket. When he had lighted a cigarette he -smiled quizzically across at the girl’s sober, half-averted face. “It’s -very warm, isn’t it?” he asked, with a little laugh. - -But Holly made no reply for a minute. Then she turned a troubled face -toward him. - -“Why did you say that?” she cried. “You’ve made me feel sad!” - -With a gesture of contrition Winthrop reached across and laid his hand -for an instant on hers. - -“My dear, I am sorry; forget it if it troubles you; I have been talking -nonsense, sheer nonsense.” - -But she shook her head, examining his face gravely. - -“No, I don’t reckon you have; but――I don’t understand quite what you -mean. Only――――” She paused, and presently asked: - -“Didn’t you live when you ruled? Are you regretting?” - -Winthrop shrugged his shoulders. - -“That,” he answered, smilingly, “is the sorry part of it; one always -regrets. Come, let’s go in to dinner. I heard the bell, didn’t I?” - - - - -IX. - - -Winthrop thought that he could like Julian Wayne if that youth would -let him. But it was evident from the moment of their first meeting -that Julian wasn’t going to allow anything of the sort. He arrived -at Waynewood Saturday night, and Winthrop, who had spent the evening -with the Major at ’Squire Parish’s house, did not meet him until -Sunday morning. He was tall, dark haired and sallow complexioned, -and as handsome as any youth Winthrop had ever seen. His features -were regular, with a fine, straight nose, wide eyes, a strong chin -and a good, somewhat tense, mouth that matched with the general air -of imperiousness he wore. Winthrop soon discovered that Julian Wayne -retained undiminished the old Southern doctrine of caste and that he -looked upon the new member of the Waynewood household with a polite -but very frank contempt. He was ardent, impetuous, and arrogant, but -they were traits of youth rather than of character, and Winthrop, -for his part, readily forgave them. That he was head-over-heels in -love with Holly was evident from the first, and Winthrop could have -liked him the more for that. But Julian’s bearing was discouraging -to any notions of friendship which Winthrop might have entertained. -For Winthrop breakfast――which Miss India attended, as was her usual -custom on Sundays――was an uncomfortable meal. He felt very much like an -intruder, in spite of the fact that both Miss India and Holly strove to -include him in the conversation, and he was relieved when it was over. - -Julian imperiously claimed Holly’s companionship and the two went -out to the front porch. Miss India attended to the matter of dinner -supplies, and then returned to her room to dress for church. Being cut -off from the porch, Winthrop went up-stairs and took a chair and a -book out on to the gallery. But the voices of the two below came up to -him in a low, eager hum, interspersed with occasional words, and drew -his mind from the book. He was a little disappointed in Julian Wayne, -he told himself. He could have wished a different sort of a man for -Holly’s husband. And then he laughed at himself for inconsistency. Only -two days before he had been celebrating just the youthful traits which -Julian exhibited. Doubtless the boy would make her a very admirable -mate. At least, he was thoroughly in love with her. Winthrop strove to -picture the ideal husband for Holly and found himself all at sea on the -instant, and ended by wondering whimsically how long he would allow -Julian undisputed possession of her if he were fifteen――even ten――years -younger! - -Later they all walked to church, Julian and Holly leading the way, as -handsome a couple as had ever passed under the whispering oak-trees, -and Winthrop and Miss India pacing staidly along behind――at a discreet -interval. Miss India’s bearing toward him amused Winthrop even while -it piqued him. She was the most kind, most courteous little woman in -the world to him, displaying a vast interest in and sympathy for his -invalidism, and keeping an anxious watch over his goings and comings -in the fear that he would overtax his strength. And yet all the while -Winthrop knew as well as he knew his name that she resented his -ownership of her home and would be vastly relieved at his departure. -And knowing this, he, on every possible occasion, set himself to win -the little lady’s liking, with, he was forced to acknowledge, scant -prospect of success. - -Winthrop sat between Miss India and Holly, with Julian at the end of -the pew. It was his first sight of the little, unadorned Episcopal -church, for he had not accompanied the ladies the previous Sunday. It -was a plain, uncompromising interior in which he found himself. The -bare white walls were broken only by big, small-paned windows of plain -glass. The pews were of yellow pine and the pulpit and stiff chairs on -either side were of the same. The only note of decoration was found in -the vase of roses which stood beside the big closed Bible. A cottage -organ supplied the music. But there was color in the congregation, -for the younger women wore their best dresses and finest hats, and -Winthrop concluded that all Corunna was at church. For awhile he -interested himself in discovering acquaintances, many of them scarcely -recognizable to-day in their black coats and air of devoutness. But -the possibilities of that mode of amusement were soon exhausted, since -the Wayne pew was well past the middle of the church. After the sermon -began Winthrop listened to it for awhile. Probably it was a very -excellent and passably interesting sermon, but the windows were wide -open and the languorous air waved softly, warmly in, and Winthrop’s -eyes grew heavier and heavier and the pulpit mistier and mistier and -the parson’s voice lower and lower and.... - -He opened his eyes very suddenly, for Holly had reached forth and -brought the toe of her shoe into sharp contact with his ankle. He -turned to find her watching him with grave face and laughing eyes, and -he looked his thanks. Then his eyes roved by to encounter the hostile -stare of Julian, who had witnessed the incident and was jealously -resenting the intimacy it denoted. - -After church the party delayed at the door to greet their friends. -Julian, with the easy courtesy that so well became him, shook hands -with fully half the congregation, answering and asking questions in his -pleasant, well-bred drawl. Winthrop wondered pessimistically if he had -in mind the fact that in another year or so he would be dependent on -these persons for his bread and butter. But Julian’s punctiliousness -gave Winthrop his chance. Miss India and Holly had finished their share -of the social event and had walked slowly out on to the porch, followed -by Winthrop. Presently Julian emerged through the door in conversation -with Mrs. Somes, and Winthrop turned to Holly. - -“There comes your cousin,” he said. “Shall we start on ahead and let -them follow?” - -There was a little flicker of surprise in the brown eyes, followed by -the merest suggestion of a smile. Then Holly moved toward the steps and -Winthrop ranged himself beside her. - -“A little discipline now and then has a salutary effect, Miss Holly,” -he remarked, as they passed out through the gate. - -“Oh, are you doing this for discipline?” asked Holly, innocently. - -“I am doing it to please myself, discipline your cousin, and――well, I -don’t know what the effect on you may be.” - -“I believe you’re hinting for compliments, Mr. Winthrop!” - -“Maybe; I’ve been feeling strangely frivolous of late. By the way, -please accept my undying gratitude for that kick.” - -“You ought to be grateful,” answered Holly, with a laugh. “In another -moment your head would have been on Auntie’s shoulder and――I hope you -don’t snore, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Heavens! Was it as bad as that? I _am_ grateful! Fancy your Aunt’s -horror!” And Winthrop laughed at the thought. - -“Oh, Auntie would have just thought you’d fainted and had you carried -home and put to bed,” said Holly. - -“I wonder how much you know?” mused Winthrop, turning to look down into -her demure face. - -“About what, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“About my――my invalidism.” - -“Why, you’re a very sick man, of course,” replied Holly. “Auntie is -quite worried about you at times.” - -Winthrop laughed. - -“But you’re not, I suspect. I fancy you have guessed that I am -something of an impostor. Have you?” - -“Mh-mh,” assented Holly, smilingly. - -“I thought so; you’ve been so fearfully attentive with that――lovely -medicine of late. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself to cause me so much -affliction?” - -“Aren’t you ashamed to impose on two unsuspecting ladies?” - -“Well, seeing that I haven’t fooled you I don’t think you need to -say ‘two.’ But I’m not altogether to blame, Miss Holly. It was that -scheming Uncle Major of yours that beguiled me into it. He declared up -and down that if I wanted to remain at Waynewood the only thing to do -was to continue being an invalid. And now――well, now I don’t dare get -well!” - -Holly laughed gayly. - -“If you had owned up before, you would have been spared a good many -doses of medicine,” she said. “It was lots of fun to make you take it! -But now I don’t reckon I’ll have the heart to any more.” - -“Bless you for those words!” said Winthrop, devoutly. “That infernal -medicine has been the one fly in my ointment, the single crumbled leaf -in my bed of roses. Hereafter I shall be perfectly happy. That is, if I -survive the day. I fancy your cousin may call me out before he leaves -and put a bullet into me.” - -“Why?” asked Holly, innocently. - -“Jealousy, my dear young lady. Haven’t I carried you off from under his -nose?” - -“I don’t reckon I’d have gone if I hadn’t wanted to,” said Holly, with -immense dignity. - -“That makes it all the worse, don’t you see? He is convinced by this -time that I have designs on you and looks upon me as a hated rival. I -can feel his eyes boring gimlet-holes in my back this moment.” - -“It will do him good,” said Holly, with a little toss of her head. - -“That’s what I thought,” said Winthrop. “But I doubt if he is capable -of taking the same sensible view of it.” - -“I’m afraid you don’t like him,” said Holly, regretfully. - -“My dear Miss Holly,” he expostulated, “he doesn’t give me a chance. -I am as dirt under his feet. I think I might like him if he’d give me -chance. He’s as handsome a youngster as I’ve ever seen, and I fancy -I can trace a strong resemblance between him and the portrait of your -father in the parlor; the eyes are very like.” - -“Others have said that,” answered Holly, “but I never could see the -resemblance; I wish I could.” - -“I assure you it’s there.” - -“Julian is very silly,” said Holly, warmly. “And I shall tell him so.” - -“Pray don’t,” begged Winthrop. “He doubtless already dislikes me quite -heartily enough.” - -“He has no right to be rude to you.” - -Winthrop smiled ruefully. - -“But he isn’t; that’s the worst of it! He’s scrupulously polite――just -as one would be polite to the butler or the man from the butcher’s! -No, don’t call him to account, please; we shall get on well enough, he -and I. Maybe when he discovers that I am not really trying to steal -you away from him he will come off his high horse. I suppose, however, -that the real reason for it all is that he resents my intrusion at -Waynewood――quite in the popular manner.” - -He regretted the latter remark the instant he had made it, for Holly -turned a distressed countenance toward him. - -“Oh, have we been as bad as all that?” she cried, softly. “I’m so -sorry! But really and really you mustn’t think that we don’t like you -to be at Waynewood! You won’t, will you? Please don’t! Why, I――I have -been so happy since you came!” - -“Bless you,” answered Winthrop, lightly, “I really meant nothing. And -if you are willing to put up with me, why, the others don’t matter at -all. But I’m awfully glad to know that you haven’t found me a bother, -Miss Holly.” - -“How could I? You’ve been so nice and――and chummy! I shan’t want you -to go away,” she added, sorrowfully. “I feel just as though you were a -nice, big elder brother.” - -“That’s just what I am,” replied Winthrop, heartily, “a big elder -brother――_and_ a slave――and _always_ an admirer.” - -“And I shall tell Julian so,” added Holly. - -“I wouldn’t, really.” - -“But why?” - -“Oh, well, you’ll just make him more jealous and unhappy, my dear. Or, -at least, that’s the effect it would have on me were I in his place, -and I fancy lovers are much the same North and South.” - -“Jealousy is nasty,” said Holly, sententiously. - -“Many of our most human sentiments are,” responded Winthrop dryly, “but -we can’t help them.” - -Holly was silent a moment. Then―――― - -“Would you mind not calling me ‘my dear’?” she asked. - -“Have I done that? I believe I have. I beg your pardon, Miss Holly! -Really, I had no intention of being――what shall I say?――familiar.” - -“Oh, it isn’t that,” replied Holly earnestly, “but it makes me feel so -terribly young! If you’d like to call me Holly, you may.” - -“Thank you,” answered Winthrop as they entered the gate and passed into -the noonday twilight of the oleander path. “But that is a privilege I -don’t deserve, at all events, not yet. Perhaps some day, maybe the day -I dance at your wedding, I’ll accept the honor.” - -“Just see how many, many roses are out!” cried Holly. - -They went on to the house in silence. - -Dinner was a pleasanter meal for Winthrop than breakfast had been, -principally because the Major and a Miss Virginia Parish, a maiden lady -of uncertain age and much charm of manners, were present. The Major -observed and resented Julian’s polite disregard of Winthrop and after -dinner took him to task for it. The ladies were in the parlor, Winthrop -had gone up-stairs to get some cigars, and the Major and Julian were at -the end of the porch. It was perhaps unfortunate that Winthrop should -have been forced to overhear a part of the conversation under his -window. - -“You don’t treat the gentleman with common civility,” remonstrated the -Major, warmly. - -“I am not aware that I have been discourteous to him,” responded Julian -in his drawling voice. - -The Major spluttered. - -“Gad, sir, what do you mean by discourteous? You can’t turn your back -on a man at his own table without being discourteous! Confound it, sir, -remember that you’re under his roof!” - -“I do remember it,” answered Julian quickly. “I’m not likely to forget -it, sir. But how did it become his roof? How did he get hold of it? -Some damned Yankee trick, I’ll wager; stole it, as like as not!” - -“Tut, tut, sir! What language is that, Julian? Mr. Winthrop――――” - -But Winthrop waited to hear no more. With the cigars he joined them -on the porch, finding the Major very red of face and looking somewhat -like an insulted turkey-cock, and Julian with a sombre sneer on his -dark face. Julian declined the proffered cigar and presently left the -others alone, taking himself off in search of Holly. The Major waved a -hand after him, and scowled angrily. - -“Just like his father,” he grunted. “Hot-headed, stubborn, badly -balanced, handsome as the devil and bound to come just such a cropper -in the end.” - -“You mean that his father was unfortunate?” asked Winthrop idly, as he -lighted his cigar. - -“Shot himself for a woman, sir. Most nonsensical proceeding I ever -heard of. The woman wasn’t worth it, sir.” - -“They seldom are,” commented Winthrop, gravely, “in the opinion of -others.” - -“She was married,” continued the Major, unheeding the remark, “and had -children; fine little tots they were, too. Husband was good as gold to -her. But she had to have Fernald Wayne to satisfy her damned vanity. I -beg your pardon, Mr. Winthrop, but I have no patience with that sort of -women, sir!” - -“You don’t understand them.” - -“I don’t want to, sir.” - -“You couldn’t if you did,” replied Winthrop. - -The Major shot a puzzled glance at him, rolling his unlighted cigar -swiftly around in the corner of his mouth. Then he deluged the -Baltimore Bell with tobacco-juice and went on: - -“Fernald was plumb out of his head about her. His own wife had been -dead some years. Nothing would do but she must run away with him. -Well――――” - -“Did the lady live here?” asked Winthrop. - -“Godamighty, no, sir! We don’t breed that kind here, sir! She lived -in New Orleans; her husband was a cotton factor there. Well, Fernald -begged her to run away with him, and after a lot of hemming and hawing -she consented. They made an appointment for one night and Fernald was -there waiting. But the lady didn’t come. After awhile he went back to -his hotel and found a note. She was sorry, but her husband had bought -tickets for the opera for that evening. Eh? What? There was soul for -you, Mr. Winthrop!” - -Winthrop nodded. - -“So the lover blew his brains out, eh?” - -“Shot a hole in his chest; amounted to about the same thing, I reckon,” -answered the Major, gloomily. “Now what do you think of a woman that’ll -do a thing like that?” - -“Well, I don’t know but what a good opera is to be preferred to an -elopement,” answered Winthrop. “There, there, Major, I don’t mean to be -flippant. The fact is we hear of so many of these ‘crimes of passion’ -up our way nowadays that we take them with the same equanimity that we -take the weather predictions. The woman was just a good sample of her -sort as the man was doubtless a good sample of his. He was lucky to be -out of it, only he didn’t realize it and so killed himself. That’s the -deuce of it, you see, Major; a man who can look a thousand fathoms into -a woman’s eyes and keep his judgment from slipping a cog is――well, he -just isn’t; he doesn’t exist! And if he did you and I, Major, wouldn’t -have anything to do with him.” - -“Shucks!” grunted the Major, half in agreement, half in protest. - -“But I hope this boy won’t follow his father’s lead, just the same,” -said Winthrop. - -“No, no,” answered the Major, energetically; “he won’t, he won’t. -He――he’s better fitted for hard knocks than his dad was. I――we had just -had a few words and I was――ah――displeased. Shall we join the ladies -inside, Mr. Winthrop?” - -The Major drove back to town in his side-bar buggy behind his aged -gray mule at sunset, taking Miss Parish with him. Miss India retired -to her room, and Julian and Holly strolled off together down the -road. Winthrop drew the arm-chair up to the fireplace in his room and -smoked and read until supper time. At that meal only he and Holly and -Julian were present, and the conversation was confined principally -to the former two. Julian was plainly out of sorts and short of -temper; his wooing, Winthrop concluded, had not gone very well that -day. Holly seemed troubled, but whether over Julian’s unhappiness or -his impoliteness Winthrop could not guess. After supper they went -out to the porch for a while together, but Winthrop soon bade them -good-night. For some time through the opened windows he could hear the -faint squeaking of the joggling-board and the fainter hum of their low -voices. At ten Julian’s horse was brought around, and he clattered away -in the starlit darkness toward Marysville. He heard Holly closing the -door down-stairs, heard her feet patter up the uncarpeted stairway, -heard her humming a little tune under her breath. The lamp was still -lighted on his table, and doubtless the radiance of it showed under -the door, for Holly’s footsteps came nearer and nearer along the hall -until―― - -“Good-night, slave!” she called, softly. - -“Good-night, Miss Holly,” he answered. - -He heard her footsteps dying away, and finally the soft closing of a -door. Thoughtfully he refilled his pipe and went back to the chair in -front of the dying fire.... - -The ashes were cold and a chill breeze blew through the open casements. -Winthrop arose with a shiver, knocked the ashes from his pipe and -dropped it on the mantel. - -“There’s no fool like an old――like a middle-aged fool,” he muttered, as -he blew out the lamp. - - - - -X. - - -[Illustration] - -Holly’s birthday was quite an event at Waynewood. Aunt Venus outdid -herself and there never was such a dinner, from the okra soup to the -young guineas and on to the snowy syllabub and the birthday cake with -its eighteen flaring pink candles. Uncle Major was there, as were -two of Holly’s girl friends, and the little party of six proved most -congenial. Holly was in the highest spirits; everyone she knew had -been so kind to her. Aunt India had given her dimity for a new dress -and a pair of the gauziest white silk stockings that ever crackled -against the ear. The dimity was white sprinkled with little Dresden -flowers of deep pink. Holly and Rosa and Edith had spent fully an hour -before dinner in enthusiastic planning and the fate of the white dimity -was settled. It was to be made up over pale pink, and the skirt was to -be quite plain save for a single deep flounce at the bottom. Rosa had -just the pattern for it and Holly was to drive out to Bellair in a day -or so and get it. The Major had brought a blue plush case lined with -maroon satin and holding three pairs of scissors, a bodkin, and two -ribbon-runners. - -[Illustration] - -“I don’t know what those flat gimcracks are for, Holly,” he said, as -she kissed him, “but ‘Ham’ he said he reckoned you’d know what to do -with them. I told him, ‘Ham, you’re a married man and I’m a bachelor, -and don’t you go and impose on my ignorance. If there’s anything -indelicate about those instruments you take ’em out.’ But he said as -long as I didn’t see ’em in use it was all right and proper.” - -Julian had sent a tiny gold brooch and Winthrop had presented a -five-pound box of candy. Of the two the candy made the more pronounced -hit. It had come all the way from New York, and was such an imposing -affair with its light blue moire-paper box and its yards of silk -ribbon! And then the wonderful things inside! Candied violets and -rose- and chrysanthemum-petals, grapes hidden in coverings of white -cream, little squares of fruit-cake disguised as plebeian caramels, -purple raisins and white almonds buried side by side in amber glacé, -white and lavender pellets that broke to nothing in the mouth and left -a surprising and agreeable flavor of brandy, little smooth nuggets of -gold and silver and a dozen other fanciful whims of the confectioner. -The girls screamed and laughed with delight, and the Major pretended -to feel the effects of three brandy-drops and insisted on telling -Miss India about his second wife. There had been other gifts besides. -Holly’s old “mammy” had walked in, three miles, with six-guinea-eggs in -a nest of gray moss; Phœbe had gigglingly presented a yard of purple -silk “h’ar ribbon,” Aunt Venus had brought a brown checked sun-bonnet -of her own making, and even Young Tom, holding one thumb tightly -between his teeth and standing embarrassedly on one dusty yellow foot, -had brought his gift, a bundle of amulets rolled out of newspaper and -artistically dyed in beet juice. Yes, everyone had been very kind to -Holly, and her eighteenth birthday was nothing short of an occasion. - -In the afternoon Holly and Rosa and the Major piled into his buggy and -went for a ride, while Miss India retired for her nap, and Winthrop -and Edith sat on the porch. Miss Bartram was a tall, graceful, -golden-haired beauty of nineteen, with sentimental gray eyes and an -affectation of world-weariness which Winthrop found for a time rather -diverting. They perched on the joggling-board together and discussed -Holly, affinities, Julian Wayne, love, Richmond, New York, Northern -customs――which Miss Edith found very strange and bizarre――marriage in -the abstract, marriage in the concrete as concerned with Miss Edith, -flowers, Corunna, Major Cass, milk-shakes, and many other subjects. -The girl was a confirmed flirt, and Winthrop tired of her society -long before relief came in the shape of a laughing trio borne into -sight behind a jogging gray mule. After supper they played hearts, -after a fashion introduced by Miss Bartram. Whoever held the queen -of spades when a game was ended received a smudge on the face from -each of the other players, whose privilege it was to rub one finger -in the soot of the fireplace and inscribe designs on the unfortunate -one’s countenance. As the queen of spades and Major Cass developed an -affinity early in the evening the latter was a strange and fearsome -sight when the party broke up. The Major was to take Miss Edith back -to town with him, and the latter entered the buggy to a chorus of -remonstrances from the other girls. - -“Oh, don’t you go with him!” cried Rosa. “Your face will be a perfect -sight by the time you reach home!” - -“I really think, Major,” laughed Winthrop, “that maybe you’d better -wash the side of your face next to Miss Bartram.” - -“Don’t you-all worry so much,” responded the Major. “Miss Edith isn’t -saying anything, is she? She knows it’s dark and no one’s going to see -her face when she gets home. I don’t know what’s coming to the ladies -these days. When I was younger they didn’t let a little thing like a -grain of smut interfere with a kiss or two.” - -“Then don’t you let him have more than two, Edith,” said Holly. “You -heard what he said.” - -“Merely a figure of speech, ladies,” replied the Major. “I’ve heard -there wasn’t such a thing as a single kiss and I reckon there ain’t -such a thing as a pair of ’em; eh, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“Always come by the dozen, as I understand it,” answered Winthrop. - -Miss Edith gave a shriek. - -“I’m powerful glad I’m not riding home with you, Mr. Winthrop!” - -“Oh, it washes off quite easily, really!” - -The buggy trundled out of sight around the corner of the drive to -an accompaniment of laughter and farewells. Miss Rosa was to spend -the night at Waynewood, and she and Holly and Winthrop returned to -the joggling-board, the girls spreading wraps over their shoulders. -There were clouds in the sky, and the air held promise of rain. -Holly was somewhat silent and soon dropped out of the conversation -altogether. Winthrop and Rosa talked of books. Neither, perhaps, was -a great reader, but they had read some books in common and these they -discussed. Winthrop liked Miss Rosa far better than Miss Bartram. -She was small, pretty in a soft-featured way, quiet of voice and -manner, and all-in-all very girlish and sweet. She was a few months -younger than Holly. She lived with her brother, Phaeton Carter, on his -plantation some eight miles out on the Quitman road. Her parents were -dead, but before their deaths, she told him wistfully, she had been all -through the North and knew Washington well. Her father had served as -Representative for two terms. She aroused Winthrop’s sympathies; there -seemed so little ahead of her; marriage perhaps some day with one of -their country neighbors, and after that a humdrum existence without any -of the glad things her young heart craved. His sympathy showed in his -voice, which could be very soft and caressing when it wanted to, and -if Rosa dreamed a little that night of an interesting Northerner with -sympathetic voice and eyes it wasn’t altogether her fault. Meanwhile -they were getting on very well, so well that they almost forgot Holly’s -existence. But they were reminded of it very suddenly. Holly jumped off -the board and seized Rosa by the hand. - -“Bed time,” she announced, shortly. - -“Oh, Holly!” cried the girl, in dismay. “Why, it can’t be half-past ten -yet!” - -“It’s very late,” declared Holly, severely. “Come along!” - -Rosa allowed herself to be dragged off the seat and into the house. -Winthrop followed. At the foot of the stairs he said good-night, -shaking hands as the custom was. - -“Good-night, Mr. Winthrop,” said Rosa, regretfully, smiling a trifle -shyly at him across the rail. - -“Good-night, Miss Carter. We’ll settle our discussion when there is no -ogress about to drag you away. Good-night, Miss Holly. I hope there’ll -be many, many more birthdays as pleasant as this one.” - -“Good-night,” answered Holly, carelessly, her hand lying limply -in his. “I’m not going to have any more birthdays――ever; I don’t -like birthdays.” The glance which accompanied the words was hard, -antagonistic. “Will you please lock the door, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“I’m sorry,” thought Winthrop, as he made his way to his room. “She’s -only a child, and a child’s friendship is very jealous. I should have -remembered that.” - -[Illustration] - -Miss Rosa returned to Bellair the next afternoon, and with her -departure Holly’s spirits returned. Winthrop smiled and sighed at the -same time. It was all so palpable, so childish and――so sweet. There was -the disturbing thought. Why should he find his heart warming at the -contemplation of Holly’s tiny fit of jealousy? Was he really going to -make a fool of himself and spoil their pleasant comradeship by falling -in love with her? What arrant nonsense! It was the silly romantic -atmosphere that was doing the mischief! Hang it all, a man could fall -in love with an Alaskan totem-pole here if he was in company with -it for half an hour! There were three very excellent reasons why he -mustn’t let himself fall in love with Holly Wayne, and it was plainly -his duty to keep a watch on himself. With that thought in mind he -spent more time away from Waynewood than theretofore, throwing himself -on the companionship of the Major, who was always delighted to have -him drop in at his office or at the Palmetto House, where he lived; -or riding out to Sunnyside to spend the day with Colonel Byers. The -Major had loaned him a shotgun, an antiquated 12-bore, and with this -and ’Squire Parish’s red setter Lee, he spent much time afield and had -some excellent sport with the quail. Holly accused him many times of -being tired of her company, adding once that she was sorry she wasn’t -as entertaining as Rosa Carter, whereupon Winthrop reiterated his vows -of fealty, but declared that his lazy spell had passed, that he was at -last acclimated and no longer satisfied with sweet inaction. And Holly -professed to believe him, but in her heart was sure that the fault lay -with her and decided that when she was married to Julian she would make -him take her travelling everywhere so that she could talk as well as -Rosa. - -[Illustration] - -December came in with a week of rainy days, during which the last of -the roses were beaten from their stalks and the garden drooped dank and -disconsolate. Blue violets, moist and fragrant under their dripping -leaves, were the only blooms the garden afforded those days. Holly, to -whose pagan spirit enforced confinement in-doors brought despair, took -advantage of every lift of the clouds to don a linen cluster, which -she gravely referred to as her rain-coat, and her oldest sun-bonnet, -and get out amidst the drenched foliage. Those times she searched the -violet-beds and returned wet and triumphant to the house. Winthrop -coming back from a tramp to town one afternoon rounded the curve of -the carriage-road just as she regained the porch. - -“Violets?” he asked, his eyes travelling from the little cluster of -blossoms and leaves in her hand to the soft pink of her cool, moist -cheeks. - -“Yes, for the guest chamber,” answered Holly. - -“You are expecting a visitor?” he asked, his thoughts turning to Julian -Wayne. - -“Stupid!” said Holly. “Your room is the guest room. Didn’t you know it? -Wait, please, and I’ll put them in water for you.” - -[Illustration] - -She came back while Winthrop was taking off his rain-coat. The violets -were nodding over the rim of a little glass. Winthrop thanked her and -bore them up-stairs. The next morning Holly came from her Aunt’s room, -the door of which was opposite Winthrop’s across the broad hall. His -door was wide open and on the bureau stood the violets well in the -angle of a two-fold photograph frame of crimson leather. Holly paused -in the middle of the hall and looked. It was difficult to see the -photographs, but one was the likeness of a child, while the other, in -deeper shadow, seemed to be that of a woman. She had never been in -the room since Winthrop had taken possession, but this morning the -desire to enter was strong. She listened, glancing apprehensively at -the closed door of her Aunt’s room. There was no danger from that -direction, and she knew that Winthrop had gone to the village. -Fearsomely, with thumping heart and cheeks that alternately paled and -flushed, she stole across the floor to the bureau. Clasping her hands -behind her, lest they should unwittingly touch something, she leaned -over and examined the two portraits. The one on the left was that -of a young woman of perhaps twenty-two years. So beautiful was the -smiling oval face with its great dark eyes that Holly almost gasped -as she looked. The dress, of white shimmering satin, was cut low, and -the shoulders and neck were perfect. A rope of small pearls encircled -the round throat and in the light hair, massed high on the head, an -aigrette tipped with pearls lent a regal air to beauty. Holly looked -long, sighing she scarcely knew why. Finally she drew her eyes away and -examined the other photograph, that of a sturdy little chap of four or -five years, his feet planted wide apart and his chubby hands holding -tight to the hoop that reached to his breast. Round-faced, grave-eyed -and curly-haired, he was yet a veritable miniature of Winthrop. But -the eyes were strongly like those in the other picture, and Holly had -no doubts as to the identity of each subject. Holly drew away, gently -restored a fallen violet, and hurried guiltily from the room. - -Winthrop did not return for dinner that day, but sent a note by a -small colored boy telling them that he was dining with the Major. -Consequently the two ladies were alone. When the dessert came on Miss -India said: - -“I think Mr. Winthrop would relish some of this clabber for his supper, -Holly. It will do him good. I’ll put it in the safe, my dear, and don’t -let me forget to get it out for him this evening.” - -“I don’t reckon he cares much for clabber, Auntie.” - -“Not care for clabber! Nonsense, my dear; everyone likes clabber. -Besides, it’s just what he ought to have after taking dinner at the -hotel; I don’t reckon they’ll give him a thing that’s fit to eat. When -your father was alive he took me to Augusta with him once and we -stopped at a hotel there, and I assure you, Holly, there wasn’t a thing -I could touch! Such tasteless trash you never saw! I always pity folks -that have to live at hotels, and I do wish the Major would go to Mrs. -Burson’s for his meals.” - -“But the Bursons live mighty poorly, Auntie.” - -“Because they have to, my child. If the Major went there Mrs. Burson -could spend more on her table. She has one of the best cooks in the -town.” Holly made no reply and presently Miss India went on: “Have you -noticed,” she asked, “how Mr. Winthrop has improved since he came here, -Holly?” - -“Yes, Auntie. He says himself that he’s much better. He was wondering -the other day whether it wasn’t time to stop taking the medicine.” - -“The tonic? Sakes, no! Why, that’s what’s holding him up, my dear, -although he doesn’t realize it. I reckon he’s a much sicker man than he -thinks he is.” - -“He appears to be able to get around fairly well,” commented Holly. -“He’s always off somewhere nowadays.” - -“Yes, and I’m afraid he’s overdoing it, my dear. I must speak to him -about it.” - -“Then we mightn’t get any more quail or doves, Auntie.” - -“It would be just as well. Why he wants to kill the poor defenceless -creatures I don’t see.” - -“But you know you love doves, Auntie,” laughed Holly. - -“Well, maybe I do; but it isn’t right to kill them, _I_ know.” - -“Doesn’t it seem strange,” asked Holly presently, her eyes on the bread -she was crumbling between her fingers, “that Mr. Winthrop never says -anything about his wife?” - -“I’ve never yet heard him say he had a wife,” answered Miss India. - -“Oh, but we know that he has. Uncle Major said so.” - -“I don’t reckon the Major knows very much about it. Maybe his wife’s -dead.” - -“Oh,” said Holly, thoughtfully. Then: “No, I don’t think she could be -dead,” she added, with conviction. “Do you――do you reckon he has any -children Auntie?” - -“Sakes, child, how should I know? It’s no concern of ours, at any rate.” - -“I reckon we can wonder, though. And it is funny he never speaks of -her.” - -“Northerners are different,” said Miss India sagely. “I reckon a wife -doesn’t mean much to them, anyhow.” - -“Don’t you think Mr. Winthrop is nice, Auntie?” - -“I’ve seen men I liked better and a heap I liked worse,” replied her -Aunt, briefly. “But I’ll say one thing for Mr. Winthrop,” she added, -as she arose from her chair and drew her shawl more closely around her -shoulders, “he has tact; I’ve never heard him allude to the War. Tact -and decency,” she murmured, as she picked her keys from the table. -“Bring the plates, Phœbe.” - -Four Sundays passed without the appearance of Julian. Winthrop -wondered. “Either,” he reflected, “they have had a quarrel or he is -mighty sure of her. And it can’t be a quarrel, for she gets letters -from him at least once a week. Perhaps he is too busy at his work to -spare the time, although――――” Winthrop shook his head. He had known -lovers who would have made the time. - -The rainy weather passed northward with its draggled skirts, and a -spell of warm days ushered in the Christmas season. The garden smiled -again in the sunlight, and a few of the roses opened new blooms. -Winthrop took a trip to Jacksonville a week before Christmas, spent -two days there, and purchased modest gifts for Miss India, Holly, -and the Major. The former had flatteringly commissioned him to make -a few purchases for her, and Winthrop, realizing that this showed a -distinct advance in his siege of the little lady’s liking, spent many -anxious moments in the performance of the task. When he returned he was -graciously informed that he had purchased wisely and well. Christmas -fell on Saturday that year and Julian put in an appearance Friday -evening. Christmas morning they went to church and at two o’clock sat -down to a dinner at which were present besides the family and Winthrop, -Major Cass, Edith Bartram, and Mr. and Mrs. Burson. Burson kept the -livery stable and was a tall, awkward, self-effacing man of fifty or -thereabouts, who some twenty years before had in an unaccountable -manner won the toast of the county for his bride. A measure of Mrs. -Burson’s former beauty remained, but on the whole she was a faded, -depressing little woman, worn out by a long struggle against poverty. - -The Major, who had been out in the country in the morning, arrived late -and very dusty and went up to Winthrop’s room to wash before joining -the others. When he came down and, after greeting the assembled party, -tucked his napkin under his ample chin, he turned to Winthrop with -twinkling eyes. - -“Mr. Winthrop, sir,” he said, “I came mighty near not getting out of -your room again, sir. I saw that picture on your bureau and fell down -and worshipped. Gad, sir, I don’t know when I’ve seen a more beautiful -woman, outside of the present array! Yes, sir, I came mighty near -staying right there and feasting my eyes instead of my body, sir. And a -fine-looking boy, too, Mr. Winthrop. Your family, I reckon, sir?” - -“My wife and son,” answered Winthrop, gravely. - -The conversation had died abruptly and everyone was frankly attentive. - -“I envy you, sir, ’pon my word, I do!” said the Major emphatically, -between spoonfuls of soup. “As handsome a woman and boy as ever I saw, -sir. They are well, I trust, Mr. Winthrop?” - -“The boy died shortly after that portrait was taken,” responded -Winthrop. There were murmurs of sympathy. - -“Dear, dear, dear,” said the Major, laying down his spoon and looking -truly distressed. “I had no idea, Mr. Winthrop――――! You’ll pardon me, -sir, for my――my unfortunate curiosity.” - -“Don’t apologize, Major,” answered Winthrop, smilingly. “It has been -six years, and I can speak of it now with some degree of equanimity. -He was a great boy, that son of mine; sometimes I think that maybe the -Lord was a little bit envious.” - -“The picture of you, sir,” said the Major, earnestly. “But your lady, -sir? She is――ah――well, I trust?” - -“Quite, I believe,” answered Winthrop. - -“I am glad to hear it. I trust some day, sir, you’ll bring her down and -give us the pleasure of meeting her.” - -“Thank you,” Winthrop replied, quietly. - -Holly began an eager conversation with Julian and the talk became -general, the Major holding forth on the subject of Cuban affairs, which -were compelling a good deal of attention in that winter of 1897–8. -After dinner they went out to the porch, but not before the Major had, -unnoticed, stationed himself at the dining-room door with a sprig of -mistletoe in his hand. Holly and Julian reached the door together -and with a portentous wink at Julian the Major held the little bunch -of leaves and berries over Holly’s head. Winthrop, the last to leave -the room, saw what followed. Julian imprisoned Holly’s hands in front -of her, leaned across her shoulder and pressed a kiss on her cheek. -There was a little cry of alarm from Holly, drowned by the Major’s -chuckle and Julian’s triumphant laugh. Holly’s eyes caught sight of the -mistletoe, the blood dyed her face, and she smiled uncertainly. - -[Illustration: THE MAJOR HELD THE LITTLE BUNCH OF LEAVES AND BERRIES -OVER HOLLY’S HEAD] - -“He caught you, my dear,” chuckled the Major. - -“You’re a traitor, Uncle Major,” she answered, indignantly. With a -quick gesture she seized the mistletoe from his grasp and threw it -across the room. As she turned, her head in air, her eyes encountered -Winthrop’s and their glances clung for an instant. He wondered -afterwards what she had read in his eyes for her own grew large and -startled ere the lids fell over them and she turned and ran out -through the hall. The rest followed laughing. Winthrop ascended to his -room, closed his door, lighted a pipe and sat down at an open window. -From below came the sound of voices, rising and falling, and the harsh -song of a red-bird in the magnolia-tree. From the back of the house -came the sharp explosions of firecrackers, and Winthrop knew that -Young Tom was beatifically happy. The firecrackers had been Winthrop’s -“Chrismus gif.” But his thoughts didn’t remain long with the occupants -of the porch or with Young Tom, although he strove to keep them there. -There was something he must face, and so, tamping the tobacco down in -his pipe with his finger, he faced it. - -He was in love with Holly. - -The sudden rage of jealousy which had surged over him down there in -the dining-room had opened his eyes. He realized now that he had been -falling in love with her, deeper and deeper every day, ever since his -arrival at Waynewood. He had been blinding himself with all sorts of -excuses, but to-day they were no longer convincing. He had made a -beastly mess of things. If he had only had the common sense to look -the situation fairly in the face a month ago! It would have been so -simple then to have beat a retreat. Now he might retreat as far as he -could go without undoing the damage. Well, thank Heaven, there was no -harm done to anyone save himself! Then he recalled the startled look in -Holly’s brown eyes and wondered what she had read in his face. Could -she have guessed? Nonsense; he was too old to parade his emotions like -a school-boy. Doubtless he had looked annoyed, disgusted, and Holly -had seen it and probably resented it. That was all. Had he unwittingly -done anything to cause her to suspect? He strove to remember. No, the -secret was safe. He sighed with relief. Thank Heaven for that! If she -ever guessed his feelings what a fool she would think him, what a -middle-aged, sentimental ass! And how she would laugh! But no, perhaps -she wouldn’t do just that; she was too kind-hearted; but she would be -amused. Winthrop’s cheeks burned at the thought. - -Granted all this, what was to be done? Run away? To what end? Running -away wouldn’t undo what was done. Now that he realized what had -happened he could keep guard on himself. None suspected, none need ever -suspect, Holly least of all. It would be foolish to punish himself -unnecessarily for what, after all, was no offense. No; he would stay at -Waynewood; he would see Holly each day, and he would cure himself of -what, after all, was――could be――only a sentimental attachment evolved -from propinquity and idleness. Holly was going to marry Julian; and -even were she not――――. Winthrop glanced toward the photograph frame on -the bureau――there were circumstances which forbade him entering the -field. Holly was not for him. Surely if one thoroughly realized that -a thing was unobtainable he must cease to desire it in time. That was -common sense. He knocked the ashes from his pipe and arose. - -“That’s it, Robert, my boy,” he muttered. “Common sense. If you’ll just -stick to that you’ll come out all right. There’s nothing like a little, -hard, plain common sense to knock the wind out of sentiment. Common -sense, my boy, common sense!” - -He joined the others on the porch and conducted a very creditable -flirtation with Miss Edith until visitors began to arrive, and the -big bowl of eggnog was set in the middle of the dining-room table and -banked with holly. After dark they went into town and watched the -fireworks on the green surrounding the school-house. Holly walked ahead -with Julian, and Winthrop thought he had never seen her in better -spirits. She almost seemed to avoid him that evening, but that was -perhaps only his fancy. Returning, there were only Holly and Julian and -Winthrop, for Miss Bartram and the Bursons returned to their homes and -the Major had been left at Waynewood playing bezique with Miss India. -For awhile the conversation lagged, but Winthrop set himself the task -of being agreeable to Julian and by the time they reached the house -that youth had thawed out and was treating Winthrop with condescending -friendliness. Winthrop left the young pair on the porch and joined the -Major and Miss India in the parlor, watching their play and hiding his -yawns until the Major finally owned defeat. - - - - -XI. - - -Holly had grown older within the last two months, although no one but -Aunt India realized it. It was as though her eighteenth birthday had -been a sharp line of division between girlhood and womanhood. It was -not that Holly had altered either in appearance or actions; she was the -same Holly, gay or serious, tender or tyrannical, as the mood seized -her; but the change was there, even if Miss India couldn’t quite put -her finger on it. Perhaps she was a little more sedate when she was -sedate, a little more thoughtful at all times. She read less than she -used to, but that was probably because there were fewer moments when -she was alone. She was a little more careful of her attire than she had -been, but that was probably because there was more reason to look well. -Miss India felt the change rather than saw it. - -I have said that no one save Miss India realized it, but that is not -wholly true. For Holly herself realized it in a dim, disquieting way. -The world in which she had spent her first eighteen years seemed, as -she looked back at it, strangely removed from the present one. There -had been the same sky and sunshine, the same breezes and flowers, the -same pleasures and duties, and yet there had been a difference. It -was as though a gauze curtain had been rolled away; things were more -distinct, sensations more acute; the horizon was where it always had -been, but now it seemed far more distant, giving space for so many -details which had eluded her sight before. It was all rather confusing. -At times it seemed to Holly that she was much happier than she had -been in that old world, and there were times when the contrary seemed -true, times when she became oppressed with a feeling of sorrowfulness. -At such moments her soft mouth would droop at the corners and her eyes -grow moist; life seemed very tragic in some indefinable way. And yet, -all the while, she knew in her heart that this new world――this broader, -vaster, clearer world――was the best; that this new life, in spite of -its tragedy which she felt but could not see, was the real life. Sorrow -bit sharper, joy was more intense, living held a new, fierce zest. Not -that she spent much time in introspection, or worried her head with -over-much reasoning, but all this she felt confusedly as one groping -in a dark room feels unfamiliar objects without knowing what they may -be or why they are there. But Holly’s groping was not for long. The -door of understanding opened very suddenly, and the light of knowledge -flooded in upon her. - -[Illustration] - -January was a fortnight old and Winter held sway. The banana-trees -drooped blackened and shrivelled, the rose-beds were littered with -crumpled leaves, and morning after morning a film of ice, no thicker -than a sheet of paper, but still real ice, covered the water-pail on -its shelf on the back porch. Uncle Ran groaned with rheumatism as he -laid the morning fires, and held his stiffened fingers to the blaze -as the fat pine hissed and spluttered. To Winthrop it was the veriest -farce of a winter, but the other inhabitants of Waynewood felt the cold -keenly. Aunt India kept to her room a great deal, and when she did -appear down-stairs she seemed tinier than ever under the great gray -shawl. Her face wore a pinched and anxious expression, as though she -were in constant fear of actually freezing to death. - -“I don’t understand what has gotten into our winters,” she said one day -at dinner, drawing her skirts forward so they would not be scorched by -the fire which blazed furiously at her back. “They used to be at least -temperate. Now one might as well live in Russia or Nova Zembla! Phœbe, -you forgot to put the butter on the hearth and it’s as hard as a rock. -You’re getting more forgetful every day.” - -[Illustration] - -It was in the middle of the month, one forenoon when the cold had -moderated so that one could sit on the porch in the sunshine without -a wrap and when the southerly breeze held a faint, heart-stirring -promise of Spring――a promise speedily broken,――that Winthrop came back -to the house from an after-breakfast walk over the rutted clay road and -found Holly removing the greenery from the parlor walls and mantel. -She had spread a sheet in the middle of the room and was tossing the -dried and crackling holly and the gummy pine plumes onto it in a heap. -As Winthrop hung up his hat and looked in upon her she was standing -on a chair and, somewhat red of face, was striving to reach the bunch -of green leaves and red berries above the half-length portrait of her -father. - -“You’d better let me do that,” suggested Winthrop, as he joined her. - -“No,” answered Holly, “I’m――――going to――――get it――――There!” - -Down came the greenery with a shower of dried leaves and berries, and -down jumped Holly with a triumphant laugh. - -“Please move the chair over there,” she directed. - -Winthrop obeyed, and started to step up onto it, but Holly objected. - -“No, no, no,” she cried, anxiously. “I’m going to do it myself. It -makes me feel about a foot high and terribly helpless to have folks -reach things down for me.” - -Winthrop smiled and held out his hand while she climbed up. - -“There,” said Holly. “Now I’m going to reach that if I――have -to――stretch myself――out of――shape!” It was a long reach, but she finally -accomplished it, laid hold of one of the stalks and gave a tug. The -tug achieved the desired result, but it also threw Holly off her -balance. To save herself she made a wild clutch at Winthrop’s shoulder, -and as the chair tipped over she found herself against his breast, his -arms about her and her feet dangling impotently in air. Perhaps he held -her there an instant longer than was absolutely necessary, and in that -instant perhaps his heart beat a little faster than usual, his arms -held her a little tighter than before, and his eyes darkened with some -emotion not altogether anxiety for her safety. Then he placed her very -gently on her feet and released her. - -“You see,” he began with elaborate unconcern, “I told you――――” - -Then he caught sight of her face and stopped. It was very white, and in -the fleeting glimpse he had of her eyes they seemed vast and dark and -terrified. - -“It startled you!” he said, anxiously. - -She stood motionless for a moment, her head bent, her arms hanging -straight. Then she turned and walked slowly toward the door. - -“Yes,” she said, in a low voice; “it――――I feel――――faint.” - -[Illustration] - -Very deliberately she climbed the stairs, passed along the hall, and -entered her room. She closed the door behind her and walked, like one -in a dream, to the window. For several minutes she stared unseeingly -out into the sunlit world, her hands strained together at her breast -and her heart fluttering chokingly. The door of understanding had -opened and the sudden light bewildered her. But gradually things took -shape. With a little sound that was half gasp, half moan, she turned -and fell to her knees at the foot of her bed, her tightly-clasped hands -thrown out across the snowy quilt and her cheek pillowed on one arm. -Tears welled slowly from under her closed lids and seeped scorchingly -through her sleeve. - -“Don’t let me, dear God,” she sobbed, miserably, “don’t let me! You -don’t want me to be unhappy, do you? You know he’s a married man and -a Northerner! And I didn’t know, truly I didn’t know until just now! -It would be wicked to love him, wouldn’t it? And you don’t want me to -be wicked, do you? And you’ll take him away, dear God, where I won’t -see him again, ever, ever again? You know I’m only just Holly Wayne -and I need your help. You mustn’t let me love him! You mustn’t, you -mustn’t....” - -She knelt there a long time, feeling very miserable and very -wicked,――wicked because in spite of her prayers, which had finally -trailed off into mingled sobs and murmurs, her thoughts flew back to -Winthrop and her heart throbbed with a strange, new gladness. Oh, how -terribly wicked she was! It seemed to her that she had lied to God! -She had begged Him to take Winthrop away from her and yet her thoughts -sought him every moment! She had only to close her own eyes to see his, -deep and dark, looking down at her, and to read again their wonderful, -fearsome message; to feel again the straining clasp of his arms about -her and the hurried thud of his heart against her breast! She felt -guilty and miserable and happy. - -She wondered if God would hear her prayer and take him away from -her. And suddenly she realized what that would mean. Not to see him -again――ever! No, no; she couldn’t stand that! God must help her to -forget him, but He mustn’t take him away. After all, was it so horribly -wicked to care for him as long as she never let him know? Surely no one -would suffer save herself? And she――well, she could suffer. It came to -her, then, that perhaps in this new world of hers it was a woman’s lot -to suffer. - -Her thoughts flew to her mother. She wondered if such a thing had ever -happened to her. What would she have done had she been in Holly’s -place? Holly’s tears came creeping back again; she wanted her mother -very much just then.... - -As she sat at the open window, the faint and measured tramp of steps -along the porch reached her. It was Winthrop, she knew. And at the -very thought her heart gave a quick throb that was at once a joy and -a pain. Oh, why couldn’t people be just happy in such a beautiful -world? Why need there be disappointments, and heartaches? If only she -could go to him and explain it all! He would take her hand and look -down at her with that smiling gravity of his, and she would say quite -fearlessly: “I love you very dearly. I can’t help it. It isn’t my -fault, nor yours. But you must make it easy for me, dear. You must go -away now, but not for ever; I couldn’t stand that. Sometimes you must -come back and see me. And when you are away you will know that I love -you more than anything in the world, and I will know that you love me. -Of course, we must never speak again of our love, for that would be -wicked. And you wouldn’t want me to be wicked. We will be such good, -good friends always. Good-bye.” - -You see, it never occurred to her that Winthrop’s straining arms, his -quickening heart-throbs, and the words of his eyes, might be only the -manifestation of a quite temporal passion. She judged him by herself, -and all loves by that which her father and mother had borne for each -other. There were still things in this new world of hers which her eyes -had not discerned. - -She wondered if Winthrop had understood her emotion after he had -released her from his arms. For an instant, she hoped that he had. Then -she clasped her hands closely to her burning cheeks and thought that -if he had she would never have the courage to face him again! She hoped -and prayed that he had not guessed. - -Suddenly, regretfully for the pain she must cause him, she recollected -Julian. She could never marry him now. She would never, never marry -anyone. She would be an old maid, like Aunt India. The prospect seemed -rather pleasing than otherwise. With such a precious love in her -heart she could never be quite lonely, no matter if she lived to be -very, very old! She wondered if Aunt India had ever loved. And just -then Phœbe’s voice called her from below and she went to the door and -answered. She bathed her hot cheeks and wet eyes in the chill water, -and with a long look about the big square room, which seemed now to -have taken on the sacredness of a temple of confession, she went -down-stairs. - -Winthrop had not guessed. She knew that at once when she saw him. He -was eagerly anxious about her, and blamed himself for her fright. - -“I ought never to have let you try such foolishness,” he said, -savagely. “You might have hurt yourself badly.” - -“Oh,” laughed Holly, “but you were there to catch me!” - -There was a caressing note in her voice that thrilled him with longing -to live over again that brief moment in the parlor. But he only -answered, and awkwardly enough, since his nerves were taut: “Then -please see that I’m there before you try it again.” - -They sat down at table with Miss India, to whom by tacit consent no -mention was made of the incident, and chattered gayly of all things -save the one which was crying at their lips to be spoken. And Holly -kept her secret well. - - - - -XII. - - -January and Winter had passed together. February was nearly a week old. -Already the garden was astir. The violet-beds were massed with blue, -and the green spikes of the jonquils showed tiny buds. There was a new -balminess in the air, a new languor in the ardent sunlight. The oaks -were tasseling, the fig-trees were gowning themselves in new green -robes of Edenic simplicity, the clumps of Bridal Wreath were sprinkled -with flecks of white that promised early flowering and the pomegranates -were unfolding fresh leaves. On the magnolia burnished leaves of tender -green squirmed free from brown sheaths like moths from their cocoons. -The south wind blew soft and fresh from the Gulf, spiced with the aroma -of tropic seas. Spring was dawning over Northern Florida. - -It was Saturday afternoon, and Holly was perched in the fig-tree at the -end of the porch, one rounded arm thrown back against the dusky trunk -to pillow her head, one hand holding her forgotten book, one slender -ankle swinging slowly like a dainty pendulum from under the hem of -her skirt. Her eyes were on the green knoll where the oaks threw deep -shadow over the red-walled enclosure, and her thoughts wandered like -the blue-jay that flitted restlessly through garden and grove. Life was -a turbid stream, these days, filled with perplexing swirls――a stream -that rippled with laughter in the sunlight, and sighed in its shadowed -depths, and all the while flowed swiftly, breathlessly on toward――what? - -[Illustration] - -The sound of a horse’s hoofs on the road aroused Holly from her dreams. -She lifted her head and listened. The hoof-beats slackened at the gate, -and then drew nearer up the curving drive. The trees hid the rider, -however, and Holly could only surmise his identity. It could scarcely -be Mr. Winthrop, for he had gone off in the Major’s buggy early in the -forenoon for an all-day visit to Sunnyside. Then it must be Julian, -although it was unlike him to come so early. She slipped from her seat -in the tree and walked toward the steps just as horse and rider trotted -into sight. It was Julian――Julian looking very handsome and eager as he -threw himself from the saddle, drew the reins over White Queen’s head -and strode toward the girl. - -“Howdy, Holly?” he greeted. “Didn’t expect to see me so early, I -reckon.” He took her hand, drew her to him, and had kissed her cheek -before she thought to deny him. She had grown so used to having him -kiss her when he came and departed, and his kisses meant so little, -that she forgot. She drew herself away gravely. - -“I’ll call Uncle Ran,” she said. - -“All right, Holly.” Julian threw himself on to the steps and lighted -a cigarette, gazing appreciatively about him. How pretty it was here -at Waynewood! Some day he meant to own it. He was the only male -descendant of the old family, and it was but right and proper that the -place should be his. In a year or two that interloping Yankee would be -glad enough to get rid of it. Then he would marry Holly, succeed to the -Old Doctor’s practice and―――― Suddenly he recollected that odd note of -Holly’s and drew it from his pocket. Nonsense, of course, but it had -worried him a bit at first. She had been piqued, probably, because he -had not been over to see her. He flicked the letter with his finger and -laughed softly. The idea of Holly releasing him from their engagement! -Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure that there was any engagement; for -the last three years there had been a tacit understanding that some -day they were to be married and live at Waynewood, but Julian couldn’t -remember that he had ever out-and-out asked Holly to marry him. He -laughed again. That was a joke on Holly. He would ask her how she could -break what didn’t exist. And afterwards he would make sure that it did -exist. He had no intention of losing Holly. No, indeed! She was the -only girl in the world for him. He had met heaps of pretty girls, but -never one who could hold a candle to his sweetheart. - -Holly came back followed by Uncle Ran. The horse was led away to the -stable, and Holly sat down on the top step at a little distance from -Julian. Julian looked across at her, admiration and mischief in his -black eyes. - -“So it’s all over between us, is it, Holly?” he asked, with a soft -laugh. Holly looked up eagerly, and bent forward with a sudden lighting -of her grave face. - -“Oh, Julian,” she cried, “it’s all right, then? You’re not going to -care?” - -Julian looked surprised. - -“Care about what?” he asked, suspiciously. - -“But I explained it all in my note,” answered Holly, sinking back -against the pillar. “I thought you’d understand, Julian.” - -“Are you talking about this?” he asked, contemptuously, tapping the -letter against the edge of the step. “Do you mean me to believe that -you were in earnest?” - -“Yes, quite in earnest,” she answered, gently. - -“Shucks!” said Julian. But there was a tone of uneasiness in his -contempt. “What have I done, Holly? If it’s because I haven’t been -getting over here to see you very often, I want you to understand that -I’m a pretty busy man these days. Thompson’s been getting me to do -more and more of his work. Why, he never takes a night call any more -himself; passes it over to me every time. And I can tell you that that -sort of thing is no fun, Holly. Besides,”――he gained reassurance from -his own defence――“you didn’t seem very particular about seeing me the -last time I was here. I reckoned that maybe you and the Yankee were -getting on pretty well without me.” - -“It isn’t that,” said Holly. “I――I told you in the letter, Julian. -Didn’t you read it?” - -“Of course I read it, but I couldn’t understand it. You said you’d made -a mistake, and a lot of foolishness like that, and had decided you -couldn’t marry me. Wasn’t that it?” - -“Yes, that was it――in a way,” answered Holly. “Well, I mean it, Julian.” - -Julian stared across impatiently. - -“Now don’t be silly, Holly! Who’s been talking about me? Has that -fellow Winthrop been putting fool notions into your head?” - -“No, Julian.” - -“Then what―――― Oh, well, I dare say I’ll be able to stand it,” he said, -petulantly. - -“Don’t be angry, Julian, please,” begged Holly. “I want you to -understand it, dear.” - -Holly indulged in endearments very seldom, and Julian melted. - -“But, hang it, Holly, you talk as though you didn’t care for me any -more!” he exclaimed. - -“No, I’m not talking so at all,” she answered, gently. “I do care for -you――a heap. I always have and always will. But I――I don’t love you -as――as a girl loves the man who is to be her husband, Julian. I tried -to explain that in my letter. You see, we’ve always been such good -friends that it seemed sort of natural that we should be sweethearts, -and then I reckon we just fell into thinking about getting married. I -don’t believe you ever asked me to marry you, Julian; I――I just took it -for granted, I reckon!” - -“Nonsense!” he exclaimed. - -“I don’t reckon you ever did,” she persisted, with a little smile for -his polite disclaimer. “But I’ve always thought of marrying you, and -it seemed all right until――until lately. I don’t reckon I ever thought -much about what it meant. We’ve always been fond of each other and so -it――it seemed all right, didn’t it?” - -“It _is_ all right, Holly,” he answered, earnestly. He changed his seat -to where he could take her hand. “You’ve been thinking about things -too much,” he went on. “I reckon you think that because I don’t come -over oftener and write poetry to you and all that sort of thing that I -don’t love you. Every girl gets romantic notions at some time or other, -Holly, and I reckon you’re having yours. I don’t blame you, Sweetheart, -but you mustn’t get the notion that I don’t love you. Why, you’re the -only woman in the world for me, Holly!” - -“I don’t reckon you’ve known so very many women, Julian,” said Holly. - -“Haven’t I, though? Why, I met dozens of them when I was at college.” -There was a tiny suggestion of swagger. “And some of them were mighty -clever, too, and handsome. But there’s never been anyone but you, -Holly, never once.” - -Holly smiled and pressed the hand that held hers captive. - -“That’s dear of you, Julian,” she answered. “But you must get over -thinking of me――in that way.” - -He drew back with an angry flush on his face and dropped her hand. -There was an instant’s silence. Then: - -“You mean you won’t marry me?” he demanded, hotly. - -“I mean that I don’t love you in the right way, Julian.” - -“It’s that grinning Yankee!” he cried. “He’s been making love to you -and filling your head with crazy notions. Oh, you needn’t deny it! I’m -not blind! I’ve seen what was going on every time I came over.” - -“Julian!” she cried, rising to her feet. - -“Yes, I have!” he went on, leaping up and facing her. “A fine thing to -do, isn’t it?” he sneered. “Keep me dangling on your string and all the -while accept attentions from a married man! And a blasted Northerner, -too! Mighty pleased your father would have been!” - -“Julian! You forget yourself!” said Holly, quietly. “You have no right -to talk this way to me!” - -“It’s you who forget yourself,” he answered, slashing his riding-whip -against his boots. “And if I haven’t the right to call you to account -I’d like to know who has! Miss Indy’s blind, I reckon, but I’m not!” - -Holly’s face had faded to a white mask from which her dark eyes flashed -furiously. But her voice, though it trembled, was quiet and cold. - -“You’ll beg my pardon, Julian Wayne, for what you’ve said before I’ll -speak to you again. Mr. Winthrop has never made love to me in his life.” - -She turned toward the door. - -“You don’t dare deny, though, that you love him!” cried Julian, roughly. - -“I don’t deny it! I won’t deny it!” cried Holly, facing him in a blaze -of wrath. “I deny nothing to you. You have no right to know. But if I -did love Mr. Winthrop, married though he is, I’d not be ashamed of it. -He is at least a gentleman!” - -She swept into the house. - -“By God!” whispered Julian, the color rushing from his face. “By God! -I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!” He staggered down the steps, beating the -air with his whip. A moment later, Holly, sitting with clenched hands -and heaving breast in her room, heard him shouting for Uncle Ran and -his horse. Ten minutes later he was riding like a whirlwind along the -Marysville road, White Queen in an ecstasy of madness as the whip rose -and fell. - -But by the time the distance was half covered Julian’s first anger had -cooled, leaving in its place a cold, bitter wrath toward Winthrop, -to whom he laid the blame not only of Holly’s defection but of his -loss of temper and brutality. He was no longer incensed with Holly; -it was as plain as a pikestaff that the sneaking Yankee had bewitched -her with his damned grinning face and flattering attentions, all the -while, doubtless, laughing at her in his sleeve! His smouldering rage -blazed up again and with a muttered oath Julian raised his whip. -But at Queen’s sudden snort of terror he let it drop softly again, -compunction gripping him. He leaned forward and patted the wet, white -neck soothingly. - -“Forgive me, girl,” he whispered. “I was a brute to take it out on -you. There, there, easy now; quiet, quiet!” - -On Monday Holly received a letter from him. It was humbly apologetic, -and self-accusing. It made no reference to Winthrop, nor did it refer -to the matter of the broken engagement; only―― - -[Illustration] - -“Try and forget my words, Holly,” he wrote, “and forgive me and let us -be good friends again just as we always have been. I am going over to -see you Saturday evening to ask forgiveness in person, but I shan’t -bother you for more than a couple of hours.” - -Holly, too, had long since repented, and was anxious to forgive and -be forgiven. The thought of losing Julian’s friendship just now when, -as it seemed, she needed friendship so much, had troubled and dismayed -her, and when his letter came she was quite prepared to go more than -halfway to effect a reconciliation. Her answer, written in the first -flush of gratitude, represented Holly in her softest mood, and Julian -read between the lines far more than she had meant to convey. He folded -it up and tucked it away with the rest of her letters and smiled his -satisfaction. - -[Illustration] - -At Waynewood in those days life for Holly and Winthrop was an -unsatisfactory affair, to say the least. Each strove to avoid the -other without seeming to do so, with the result that each felt -piqued. In Winthrop’s case it was one thing to keep out of Holly’s -presence from motives of caution, and quite another to find that she -was avoiding him. He believed that his secret was quite safe, and so -Holly’s apparent dislike for his society puzzled and disturbed him. -When they were together the former easy intimacy was absent and in its -place reigned a restlessness that made the parting almost a relief. -So affairs stood when on the subsequent Saturday Julian rode over to -Waynewood again. - -It was almost the middle of February, and the world was aglow under -a spell of warm weather that was quite unseasonable. The garden was -riotous with green leaves and early blossoms. Uncle Ran confided to -Winthrop that “if you jes’ listens right cahful you can hear the leaves -a-growin’ an’ the buds a-poppin’ open, sir!” Winthrop had spent a -restless day. Physically he was as well as he had ever been, he told -himself; three months at Waynewood had worked wonders for him; but -mentally he was far from normal. Of late he had been considering more -and more the advisability of returning North. It was time to get back -into harness. He had no doubt of his ability to retrieve his scattered -fortune, and it was high time that he began. And then, too, existence -here at Waynewood was getting more complex and unsatisfactory every -day. As far as Miss India’s treatment of him was concerned, he had only -cause for congratulation, for his siege of that lady’s heart had been -as successful as it was cunning; only that morning she had spoken to -him of Waynewood as “your property” without any trace of resentment; -but it was very evident that Holly had wearied of him. That should -have been salutary knowledge, tending to show him the absurdity and -hopelessness of his passion, but unfortunately it only increased his -misery without disturbing the cause of it. Yes, it was high time to -break away from an ungraceful position, and get back to his own -world――high time to awake from dreams and face reality. - -So his thoughts ran that Saturday afternoon, as he walked slowly out -from town along the shaded road. As he came within sight of Waynewood -a horse and rider turned in at the gate, and when Winthrop left the -oleander path and reached the sun-bathed garden he saw that Julian and -Holly were seated together on the porch, very deep in conversation――so -interested in each other, indeed, that he had almost gained the steps -before either of them became aware of his presence. Holly looked -anxiously at Julian. But that youth was on his good behavior. He arose -and bowed politely, if coldly, to Winthrop. Something told the latter -that an offer to shake hands would not be a happy proceeding. So he -merely returned Julian’s bow as he greeted him, remained for a moment -in conversation, and then continued on his way up-stairs. Once in his -room he lighted a pipe and, from force of habit, sank into a chair -facing the empty fireplace. Life to-day seemed extremely unattractive. -After ten minutes he arose, knocked out the ashes briskly, and dragged -his trunk into the center of the room. He had made up his mind. - -Supper passed pleasantly enough. Julian was resolved to reinstall -himself in Holly’s good graces, even if it entailed being polite to -the Northerner. Holly was in good spirits, while Winthrop yielded to -an excitement at once pleasant and perturbing. Now that he had fully -decided to return North he found himself quite eager to go; he wondered -how he could have been content to remain in idleness so long. Miss -India was the same as always, charming in her simple dignity, gravely -responsive to the laughter of the others, presiding behind the teapot -with the appropriate daintiness of a Chelsea statuette. Winthrop said -nothing of his intended departure to-morrow noon; he would not give -Julian that satisfaction. After Julian had gone he would inform Holly. -They must be alone when he told her. He didn’t ask himself why. He -only knew that the blood was racing in his veins to-night, that the air -seemed tinged with an electrical quality that brought pleasant thrills -to his heart, and that it was his last evening at Waynewood. One may be -pardoned something on one’s last evening. - -Contrary to his custom, and to all the laws of Cupid’s Court, Winthrop -joined Julian and Holly on the porch after supper. He did his best to -make himself agreeable and flattered himself that Holly, at least, -did not resent his presence. After his first fit of resentment at the -other’s intrusion Julian, too, thawed out and, recollecting his rôle, -was fairly agreeable to Winthrop. A silver moon floated above the house -and flooded the world with light. The white walls shone like snow, -and the shadows were intensely black and abrupt. No air stirred the -sleeping leaves, and the night was thrillingly silent, save when a -Whippoorwill sang plaintively in the grove. - -At nine Julian arose to take his leave. White Queen had been brought -around by Uncle Ran and was pawing the earth restively beside the -hitching-post outside the gate at the end of the house. Doubtless -Julian expected that Winthrop would allow him to bid Holly good-night -unmolested. But if so he reckoned without the spirit of recklessness -which controlled the Northerner to-night. Winthrop arose with the -others and accompanied them along the path to the gate, returning -Julian’s resentful glare with a look of smiling insouciance. Julian -unhitched White Queen and a moment of awkward silence followed. Holly, -dimly aware of the antagonism, glanced apprehensively from Julian to -Winthrop. - -“That’s a fine horse you have there,” said Winthrop, at last. - -“Do you think so?” answered Julian, with a thinly-veiled sneer. “You -know something about horses, perhaps?” - -“Not much,” replied Winthrop, with a good-natured laugh. “I used to -ride when I was at college.” - -“Perhaps you’d like to try her?” suggested Julian. - -“Thanks, no.” - -“I reckon you had better not,” Julian drawled. “A horse generally knows -when you’re afraid of her.” - -“Oh, I’m not afraid,” said Winthrop. “I dare say I’d manage to stick -on, but it is some time since I’ve ridden and my efforts would only -appear ridiculous to one of your grace and ability.” - -“Your modesty does you credit, if your discretion doesn’t,” replied -the other, with a disagreeable laugh. “I hadn’t done you justice, Mr. -Winthrop, it seems.” - -“How is that?” asked Winthrop, smilingly. - -“Why, it seems that you possess two virtues I had not suspected you of -having, sir.” - -“You wound me, Mr. Wayne. I pride myself on my modesty. And as for -discretion――――” - -“You doubtless find it useful at such times as the present,” sneered -Julian. - -“I really almost believe you are suspecting me of cowardice,” said -Winthrop, pleasantly. - -“I really almost believe you are a mind-reader,” mocked Julian. - -Their eyes met and held in the moonlight. Julian’s face was white and -strained. Winthrop’s was smiling, but the mouth set hard and there was -a dangerous sparkle in the eyes. Challenge met challenge. Winthrop -laughed softly. - -“You see, Miss Holly,” he said, turning to her, “I am forced to exhibit -my deficiencies, after all, or stand accused of cowardice. I pray you -to mercifully turn your eyes away.” - -“Please don’t,” said Holly, in a troubled voice. “Really, Queen isn’t -safe, Mr. Winthrop.” - -“The advice is good, sir,” drawled Julian. “The mare isn’t safe.” - -“Oh, pardon me, the mare is quite safe,” replied Winthrop, as he took -the bridle reins from Julian’s hand; “it’s I who am not safe. But we -shall see. At least, Miss Holly, credit me with the modesty which Mr. -Wayne seems to begrudge me, for here on the verge of the sacrifice I -acknowledge myself no horseman.” - -He placed his foot in the stirrup and sprang lightly enough into the -saddle. White Queen flattened her ears as she felt a new weight on her -back, but stood quite still while Winthrop shortened the reins. - -“Come on, Queen,” he said. The mare moved a step hesitatingly and shook -her head. At that moment there was a sharp cry of warning from Holly. -Julian raised the whip in his hand and brought it down savagely, and -the mare, with a cry of terror, flung herself across the narrow roadway -so quickly that Winthrop shot out of the saddle and crashed against the -picket fence, to lie crumpled and still in the moonlight. Holly was -beside him in the instant and Julian, tossing aside his whip, sprang -after her. - -Holly turned blazing eyes upon him. - -“No, no!” she cried, wildly. “You shan’t touch him! Keep away! -You’ve killed him. I won’t let you touch him!” She threw one arm -across Winthrop’s breast protectingly, and with the other sought to -ward Julian away. - -[Illustration: “KEEP AWAY! YOU’VE KILLED HIM”] - -“Hush!” he cried, tensely. “I must look at him. He is only stunned. His -head struck the fence. Let me look at him.” - -“I won’t! I won’t!” sobbed the girl. “You have done enough! Go for -help!” - -“Don’t be a fool!” he muttered, kneeling beside the still form and -running a hand under the vest. “You don’t want him to die, do you? -Here, hold his head up――so; that’s it.” There was an instant’s silence -broken only by Holly’s dry, choking sobs. Then Julian arose briskly to -his feet. “Just as I said,” he muttered. “Stunned. Find Uncle Ran and -we’ll take him into the house and attend to him!” - -“No, no! I’ll stay here,” said Holly, brokenly. “Hurry! Hurry!” - -For an instant Julian hesitated, scowling down upon her. Then, with -a muttered word, he turned abruptly and ran toward the house. Holly, -huddled against the fence with Winthrop’s head on her knee, held -tightly to one limp hand and watched with wide, terrified eyes. The -face was so white and cold in the moonlight! There was a little -troubled frown on the forehead, as though the soul was wondering and -perplexed. Had Julian spoken the truth? Was he really only stunned, or -was this death that she looked on? Would they never come? She gripped -his hand in a sudden panic of awful fear. Supposing death came and took -him away from her while she sat there impotent! She bent closer above -him, as though to hide him, and as she did so he gave a groan. Her -heart leaped. - -“Dear,” she whispered, “it’s Holly. She wants you. You won’t die, will -you? When you know that I want you, you won’t leave me, will you? What -would I do without you, dear? I’ve so long to live!” - -Footsteps hurried across the porch and down the steps. Very gently -Holly yielded her burden to Uncle Ran, and Winthrop was carried into -the house, where Aunt India, in a pink flowered wrapper, awaited them -at the head of the stairs. They bore Winthrop into his room and laid -him, still unconscious, on his bed. Holly’s gaze clung to the white -face. - -“Get on Queen, Uncle Ran, and ride in for the Old Doctor,” Julian -directed. “Tell him there’s a collar-bone to set. You had better leave -us, Holly.” - -“No, no!” cried Holly, new fear gripping her heart. - -“Holly!” said her aunt. “Go at once, girl. This is no place for you.” -But Holly made no answer. Her eyes were fixed on the silent form on the -bed. Julian laid his hand on her arm. - -“Come,” he said. She started and tore away from him, her eyes ablaze. - -“Don’t touch me!” she whispered, hoarsely, shudderingly. “Don’t touch -me, Julian! You’ve killed him! I want never to see you again!” - -“Holly!” exclaimed Miss India, astoundedly. - -“I am going, Auntie.” - -Julian held the door open for her, looking troubledly at her as she -passed out. But she didn’t see him. The door closed behind her. She -heard Julian’s quick steps across the floor and the sound of murmuring -voices. - -A deep sob shook her from head to feet. Falling to her knees she laid -her forehead against the frame of the door, her hands clasping and -unclasping convulsively. - -“Dear God,” she moaned, “I didn’t mean this! I didn’t mean this!” - -[Illustration] - - - - -XIII. - - -The effects of striking the head against a well-built fence may vary -in severity, ranging all the way from a simple contusion through -concussion of the brain to a broken neck. If unconsciousness results it -may last from a fraction of a second to――eternity. In Winthrop’s case -it lasted something less than ten minutes, at the end of which time he -awoke to a knowledge of a dully aching head and an uncomfortable left -shoulder. Unlike some other injuries, a broken collar-bone is a plain, -open-and-above-board affliction, with small likelihood of mysterious -complications. It is possible for the surgeon to tell within a day or -two the period of resulting incapacity. The Old Doctor said two weeks. -Sunday morning Uncle Ran unpacked Winthrop’s trunk, arranging the -contents in the former places with evident satisfaction. On Monday -Winthrop was up and about the house, quite himself save for the -temporary loss of his left arm and a certain stiffness of his neck. - -[Illustration] - -Miss India was once more in her element. As an invalid, Winthrop had -been becoming something of a disappointment, but now he was once again -in his proper rôle. Miss India kept an anxiously watchful eye on him, -and either Uncle Ran or Phœbe was certain to be hovering about whenever -he lifted his eyes. The number of eggnoggs and other strengthening -beverages which Winthrop was compelled to drink during the ensuing week -would be absolutely appalling if set down in cold print. - -Of Holly he caught but brief glimpses those first days of his -disability. She was all soft solicitude, but found occupations that -kept her either at the back of the house or in her chamber. She feared -that Winthrop was awaiting a convenient moment when they were alone -to ask her about the accident. As a matter of fact, he had little -curiosity about it. He was pretty certain that Julian had in some -manner frightened the horse, but he had not heard the sound of the -whip, since Holly’s sudden cry and the mare’s instant start had drowned -it. It seemed a very slight matter, after all. Doubtless Julian’s rage -had mastered him for the instant, and doubtless he was already heartily -ashamed of himself. Indeed his ministrations to Winthrop pending the -arrival of the Old Doctor had been as solicitous as friendship could -have demanded. Winthrop was quite ready to let by-gones be by-gones. - -“Besides,” Winthrop told himself, “I deliberately led him on to lose -control of himself. I’m as much to blame as he is. I wasn’t in my right -mind myself that night; maybe the evening ended less disastrously than -it might have. I dare say it was the moonlight. I’ve blamed everything -so far on the weather, and the moonlight might as well come in for -its share. Served me right, too, for wanting to make a holy show of -myself on horseback. Oh, I was decidedly mad that night; moon-mad, -that’s it.” He reflected a moment, then―― “The worst thing about being -knocked unconscious,” he went on, “is that you don’t know what happens -until you come to again. Now I’d like to have looked on at events. For -instance, I’d give a thousand dollars――if I still possess that much――to -know what Holly did or said, or didn’t do. I think I’ll ask her.” - -He smiled at the idea. Then―― - -“Why not?” he said, half aloud. “I want to know; why not ask? Why, -hang it all, I will ask! And right now, too.” - -He arose from the chair in the shade of the Baltimore Belle and walked -to the door. - -“Miss Holly,” he called. - -“Yes?” The voice came from up-stairs. - -“Are you very, very busy?” - -“N-no, not very, Mr. Winthrop.” - -“Then will you grant a dying man the grace of a few moments of your -valuable time?” - -There was a brief moment of hesitation, broken by the anxious voice of -Miss India. - -“Holly!” called her aunt, indignantly, “go down at once and see what -Mr. Winthrop wants. I reckon Phœbe has forgotten to take him his negus.” - -Winthrop smiled, and groaned. Holly’s steps pattered across the hall -and he went back to the end of the porch, dragging a second chair with -him and placing it opposite his own. When Holly came he pointed to it -gravely. Holly’s heart fell. Winthrop had a right to know the truth, -but it didn’t seem fair that the duty of confessing Julian’s act -should fall to her. The cowardice of it loomed large and terrible to -her. - -[Illustration] - -“Miss Holly,” said Winthrop, “I am naturally curious to learn what -happened the other night. Now, as you were an eye-witness of the -episode, I come to you for information.” - -“You mean that I’ve come to you,” answered Holly, smiling nervously. - -“True; I accept the correction.” - -“What――what do you want to know?” asked Holly. - -“All, please.” - -Holly’s eyes dropped, and her hands clutched each other desperately in -her lap. - -“I――he――oh, Mr. Winthrop, he didn’t know what he was doing; truly he -didn’t! He didn’t think what might happen!” - -[Illustration] - -“He? Who? Oh, you mean Julian? Of course he didn’t think; I understand -that perfectly. And it’s of no consequence, really, Miss Holly. He was -angry; in fact, I’d helped make him so; he acted on the impulse.” - -“Then you knew?” wondered Holly. - -“Knew something was up, that’s all. I suppose he flicked the mare with -the whip; I dare say he only wanted to start her for me.” - -Holly shook her head. - -“No, it wasn’t that. He――he cut her with the whip as hard as he could.” -Winthrop smiled at her tragic face and voice. - -“Well, as it happens there was little harm done. I dare say he’s quite -as regretful about it now as you like. What I want to know is what -happened afterwards, after I――dismounted.” - -“Oh,” said Holly. Her eyes wandered from Winthrop’s and the color crept -slowly into her face. - -“Well,” he prompted, presently. “You are not a very good chronicler, -Miss Holly.” - -“Why, afterwards――――oh, Julian examined you and found that you weren’t -killed――――” - -“There was doubt about that, then?” - -“I――we were frightened. You were all huddled up against the fence and -your face was so white――――” - -Holly’s own face paled at the recollection. Winthrop’s smile faded, and -his heart thrilled. - -“I’m sorry I occasioned you uneasiness, Miss Holly,” he said, earnestly. -“Then they carried me into the house and up to my room, I suppose. And -that was all there was to it,” he added, regretfully and questioningly. -It had been rather tame and uninteresting, after all. - -“Yes――――no,” answered Holly. “I――stayed with you while Julian went for -Uncle Ran. I thought once you were really dead, after all. Oh, I was -so――so frightened!” - -“He should have stayed himself,” said Winthrop, with a frown. “It was a -shame to put you through such an ordeal.” - -There was a little silence. Then Holly’s eyes went back to Winthrop’s -quite fearlessly. - -“I wouldn’t let him,” she said. “I was angry. I told him he had -killed you, and I wouldn’t let him touch you――at first. I――I was so -frightened! Oh, you don’t know how frightened I was!” - -She knew quite well what she was doing. She knew that she was laying -her heart quite bare at that moment, that her voice and eyes were -telling him everything, and that he was listening and comprehending! -But somehow it seemed perfectly right and natural to her. Why should -she treat her love――their love――as though it was something to be -ashamed of, to hide and avoid? Surely the very fact that they could -never be to each other as other lovers, ennobled their love rather than -degraded it! - -And as they looked at each other across a little space her eyes -read the answer to their message and her heart sang happily for a -moment there in the sunlight. Then her eyes dropped slowly before -the intensity of his look, a soft glow spread upward into her smooth -cheeks, and she smiled very gravely and sweetly. - -“I’ve told you, haven’t I!” she said, tremulously. - -“Holly!” he whispered. “Holly!” - -He stretched his hand toward her, only to let it fall again as the -first fierce joy gave place to doubt and discretion. He strove to -think, but his heart was leaping and his thoughts were in wild -disorder. He wanted to fall on his knees beside her, to take her in his -arms, to make her look at him again with those soft, deep, confessing -eyes. He wanted to whisper a thousand endearments to her, to sigh -“Holly, Holly,” and “Holly” again, a thousand times. But the moments -ticked past, and he only sat and held himself to his chair and was -triumphantly happy and utterly miserable in all his being. Presently -Holly looked up at him again, a little anxiously and very tenderly. - -“Are you sorry for me!” she asked, softly. - -“For you and for myself, dear,” he answered, “unless――――” - -“Will it be very hard?” she asked. “Would it have been easier if I -hadn’t――hadn’t――――” - -“No, a thousand times no, Holly! But, dear, I never guessed――――” - -Holly shook her head, and laughed very softly. - -“I didn’t mean you to know, I reckon; but somehow it just――just came -out. I couldn’t help it. I reckon I ought to have helped it, but you -see I’ve never――cared for anyone before, and I don’t know how to act -properly. Do you think I am awfully――awfully――you know; do you?” - -“I think you’re the best, the dearest――――” He stopped, with something -that was almost a sob. “I can’t tell you what I think you are, Holly; I -haven’t the words, dear.” - -“I don’t suppose you ought to, anyhow,” said Holly, thoughtfully. - -“Holly, have I――have I been to blame?” - -“No,” she answered quickly. “It was just――just me, I reckon. I prayed -God that He wouldn’t let me love you, but I reckon He has to look after -so many girls that――that care for the wrong people that He didn’t -have time to bother with Holly Wayne. Anyhow, it didn’t seem to do -much good. Maybe, though, He wanted me to love you――in spite of――of -everything. Do you reckon He did?” - -“Yes,” said Winthrop, fiercely, “I reckon He did. And He’s got to take -the consequences! Holly, I’m not fit for you; I’m twenty years older -than you are; I’ve been married and I’ve had the bloom brushed off of -life, dear; but if you’ll take me, Holly, if you’ll take me, dear――――” - -“Oh!” Holly arose to her feet and held a hand toward him appealingly. -“Please don’t! Please!” she cried. “Don’t spoil it all!” - -“Spoil it?” he asked, wonderingly. - -He got slowly to his feet and moved toward her. - -“You know what I mean,” said Holly, troubledly. “I do love you, and you -love me――――you do love me, don’t you?” - -“Yes,” he answered, simply. - -“And we can’t be happy――that way. But we can care for each -other――always――a great deal, and not make it hard to――to――――” - -She faltered, the tears creeping one by one over her lids. A light -broke upon Winthrop. - -“But you don’t understand!” he cried. - -“What?” she faltered, looking up at him anxiously, half fearfully, from -swimming eyes as he took her hand. - -“Dear, there’s no wrong if I――――” - -Sounds near at hand caused him to stop and glance around. At the gate -Julian Wayne was just dismounting from White Queen. Holly drew her -hand from Winthrop’s and with a look, eager and wondering, hurried -in-doors just as Julian opened the gate. Winthrop sank into his chair -and felt with trembling fingers for his cigarette-case. Julian espied -him as he mounted the steps and walked along the porch very stiffly and -determinedly. - -[Illustration] - -“Good-morning,” said Winthrop. - -“Good-morning, sir,” answered Julian. “I have come to apologize for -what occurred――for what I did the other night. I intended coming -before, but it was impossible.” - -“Don’t say anything more about it,” replied Winthrop. “I understand. -You acted on a moment’s impulse and my poor horsemanship did the rest. -It’s really not worth speaking of.” - -“On the contrary I did it quite deliberately,” answered Julian. “I -meant to do it, sir. But I had no thought of injuring you. I――I -only wanted Queen to cut up. If you would like satisfaction, Mr. -Winthrop――――” - -Winthrop stared. - -“My dear fellow,” he ejaculated, “you aren’t proposing a duel, are you?” - -“I am quite at your service, sir,” replied Julian, haughtily. “If the -idea of reparation seems ridiculous to you――――” - -“I beg your pardon, really,” said Winthrop, gravely and hurriedly. “It -was only that I had supposed duelling to be obsolete.” - -“Not among gentlemen, sir!” - -“I see. Nevertheless, Mr. Wayne, I’m afraid I shall have to refuse you. -I am hardly in condition to use either sword or pistol.” - -“If that is all,” answered Julian, eagerly, “I can put my left arm in a -sling, too. That would put us on even terms, I reckon, sir.” - -Winthrop threw out his hand with a gesture of surrender, and laughed -amusedly. - -“I give in,” he said. “You force me to the unromantic acknowledgment -that I’ve never used a sword, and can’t shoot a revolver without -jerking the barrel all around.” - -“You find me mighty amusing, it seems,” said Julian, hotly. - -“My dear fellow――――” - -“I don’t know anything more about swords or pistols than you do, I -reckon, sir, but I’ll be mighty glad to――to――――” - -“Cut my head off or shoot holes through me? Thanks, but I never felt -less like departing this life than I do now, Mr. Wayne.” - -“Then you refuse?” - -“Unconditionally. The fact is, you know, I, as the aggrieved party, am -the one to issue the challenge. As long as I am satisfied with your -apology I don’t believe you have any right to insist on shooting me.” - -Julian chewed a corner of his lip and scowled. - -“I thought maybe you weren’t satisfied,” he suggested hopefully. - -Winthrop smiled. - -“Quite satisfied,” he answered. “Won’t you sit down?” - -Julian hesitated and then took the chair indicated, seating himself -very erect on the edge, his riding-whip across his knees. - -“Will you smoke?” asked Winthrop, holding forth his cigarette-case. - -“No, thanks,” replied Julian, stiffly. - -There was a moment’s silence while Winthrop lighted his cigarette and -Julian observed him darkly. Then―― - -“Mr. Winthrop,” said Julian, “how long do you intend to remain here, -sir?” - -“My plans are a bit unsettled,” answered Winthrop, tossing the burnt -match onto the walk. “I had intended leaving Sunday, but my accident -prevented. Now I am undecided. May I enquire your reason for asking, -Mr. Wayne?” - -“Because I wanted to know,” answered Julian, bluntly. “Your presence -here is――is distasteful to me and embarrassing to Miss India and Miss -Holly.” - -“Really!” gasped Winthrop. - -“Yes, sir, and you know it. Anyone but a Northerner would have more -feeling than to force himself on the hospitality of two unfortunate -ladies as you have done, Mr. Winthrop.” - -“But――but――――!” Winthrop sighed, and shook his head helplessly. “Oh, -there’s no use in my trying to get your view, I guess. May I ask, -merely as a matter of curiosity, whether the fact that Waynewood is my -property has anything to do with it in your judgment.” - -“No, sir, it hasn’t! I don’t ask how you came into possession of the -place――――” - -“Thank you,” murmured Winthrop. - -“But in retaining it you are acting abominably, sir!” - -“The deuce I am! May I ask what you would advise me to do with it? -Shall I hand it over to Miss India or Miss Holly as――as a valentine?” - -“Our people, sir, don’t accept charity,” answered Julian, wrathfully. - -“So I fancied. Then what would you suggest? Perhaps you are in a -position to buy it yourself, Mr. Wayne?” - -Julian frowned and hesitated. - -“You had no business taking it,” he muttered. - -“Granted for the sake of argument, sir. But, having taken it, now what?” - -Julian hesitated for a moment. Then―― - -“At least you’re not obliged to stay here where you’re not wanted,” he -said, explosively. - -Winthrop smiled deprecatingly. - -“Mr. Wayne, I’d like to ask you one question. Did you come here this -morning on purpose to pick a quarrel with me?” - -“I came to apologize for what happened Saturday night. I’ve told you so -already.” - -“You have. You have apologized like a gentleman and I have accepted -your apology without reservations. That is finished. And now I’d like -to make a suggestion.” - -“Well?” asked Julian, suspiciously. - -“And that is that if your errand is at an end you withdraw from my -property until you can address me without insults.” - -Julian’s face flushed; he opened his lips to speak, choked back the -words, and arose from his chair. - -“Don’t misunderstand me, please,” went on Winthrop, quietly. “I am not -turning you out. I should be glad to have you remain as long as you -like. Only, if you please, as long as you are in a measure my guest, -you will kindly refrain from impertinent criticisms of my actions. I’d -dislike very much to have you weaken my faith in Southern courtesy, Mr. -Wayne.” - -Julian’s reply was never made, for at that instant Holly and Miss India -came out on the porch. Holly’s first glance was toward Winthrop. Then, -with slightly heightened color, she greeted Julian kindly. He seized -her hand and looked eagerly into her smiling face. - -“Am I forgiven?” he asked, in an anxious whisper. - -“Hush,” she answered, “it is I who should ask that. But we’ll forgive -each other.” She turned to Winthrop, who had arisen at their appearance, -and Julian greeted Miss India. - -“What have you gentlemen been talking about for so long?” asked Holly, -gayly. - -“Many things,” answered Winthrop. “Mr. Wayne was kind enough to express -his regrets for my accident. Afterwards we discussed”――he paused and -shot a whimsical glance at Julian’s uneasy countenance――“Southern -customs, obsolete and otherwise.” - -“It sounds very uninteresting,” laughed Holly. Then――“Why, Uncle Ran -hasn’t taken your horse around, Julian,” she exclaimed. - -“I didn’t call him. I am going right back.” - -“Nonsense, Julian, dinner is coming on the table now,” said Holly. - -“It’s much too warm to ride in the middle of the day,” said Miss India, -decisively. “Tell Phœbe to lay another place, Holly.” Julian hesitated -and shot a questioning glance at Winthrop. - -“You are quite right, Miss India,” said Winthrop. “This is no time to -do twelve miles on horseback. You must command Mr. Wayne to remain. No -one, I am sure, has ever dared disregard a command of yours.” - -“I’ll tell Phœbe and call Uncle Ran,” said Holly. But at the door she -turned and looked across the garden. “Why, here is Uncle Major! We’re -going to have a regular dinner party, Auntie.” - -The Major, very warm and somewhat breathless, was limping his way -hurriedly around the rose-bed, his cane tapping the ground with -unaccustomed force. - -“Good-morning, Miss India,” he called. “Good-morning, Holly; -good-morning, gentlemen. Have you heard the news?” - -“Not a word of it,” cried Holly, darting to the steps and pulling him -up. “Tell me quick!” - -The Major paused at the top of the little flight, removed his hat, -wiped his moist forehead, and looked impressively about the circle. - -“The battleship _Maine_ was blown up last night in Havanna harbor by -the damned――I beg your pardon, ladies――by the pesky Spaniards and -nearly three hundred officers and men were killed.” - -“Oh!” said Holly, softly. - -“I never!” gasped Miss India. - -“It is known that the Spanish did it?” asked Winthrop, gravely. - -“There can be no doubt of it,” answered the Major. “They just got the -news half an hour ago at the station and particulars are meager, but -there’s no question about how it happened.” - -“But this,” cried Julian, “means――――!” - -“It means intervention at last!” said the Major. “And intervention -means war, by Godfrey!” - -“War!” echoed Julian, eagerly. - -“And if it wasn’t for this da――this trifling leg of mine, I’d volunteer -to-morrow,” declared the Major. - -“How awful!” sighed Miss India. “Think of all those sailors that are -killed! I never did like the Spanish, Major.” - -“It may be,” said Winthrop, “that the accident will prove to have been -caused by an explosion on board.” - -“Shucks!” said Julian. “That’s rubbish! The Spaniards did it, as sure -as fighting, and, by Jupiter, if they think they can blow up our ships -and kill our men and not suffer for it―――― How long do you reckon it’ll -be, Major, before we declare war on them?” - -“Can’t say; maybe a week, maybe a month. I reckon Congress will have to -chew it over awhile. But it’s bound to come, and――well, I reckon I’m -out of it, Julian,” concluded the Major, with a sigh. - -“But I’m not!” cried the other. “I’ll go with the hospital corps. It’s -the chance of a lifetime, Major! Why, a man can get more experience in -two weeks in a field hospital than he can in two years anywhere else! -Why――――” - -“The bell has rung,” interposed Miss India. “You must take dinner with -us, Major, and tell us everything you know. Dear, dear, I feel quite -worked up! I remember when the news came that our army had fired on -Fort Sumter――――” - -Winthrop laid his hand on the Major’s arm and halted him. - -“Major,” he said, smiling slightly, “don’t you think you ought to -explain to them that the _Maine_ wasn’t a Confederate battleship, that -she belonged to the United States and that probably more than half her -officers and men were Northerners?” - -“Eh? What?” The Major stared bewilderedly a moment. Then he chuckled -and laid one big knotted hand on Winthrop’s shoulder. “Mr. Winthrop, -sir,” he said, “I reckon all that doesn’t matter so much now.” - - - - -XIV. - - -“I’m going for a walk with Mr. Winthrop, Auntie,” said Holly. She -fastened a broad-brimmed hat on her head and looked down at Miss India -with soft, shining eyes. Dinner was over and Miss India, the Major and -Julian were sitting in a shady spot on the porch. Winthrop awaited -Holly at the steps. - -“Well, my dear,” answered Miss India. “But keep Mr. Winthrop away from -those dark, damp places, Holly. It’s so easy to get the feet wet at -this time of year.” - -“You see, Uncle Major,” laughed Holly, “she doesn’t care whether I -catch cold or not; it’s just Mr. Winthrop!” - -“Holly!” expostulated her Aunt. - -“She knows, my dear,” said the Major, gallantly, “that those little -feet of yours will skim the wet places like swallows!” - -“Thank you, sir!” She made a face at the Major. “You will be here when -we get back, won’t you, Julian?” - -“I don’t know,” answered Julian, dismally. - -“We won’t be long.” She nodded to the trio and joined Winthrop, and -side by side they went down the steps, wound through the garden and -disappeared into the oleander path. Julian watched them with a pain -at his heart until they were out of sight, and for several minutes -afterwards he sat silent, thinking bitter thoughts. Then a remark of -the Major’s aroused him and he leaped impetuously into the conversation. - -“Trouble!” he exclaimed. “Why, we can clear the Spaniards out of Cuba -in two weeks. Look at our ships! And look at our army! There isn’t a -better one in the world! Trouble! Why, it’ll be too easy; you’ll see; -it’ll be all over before we know it!” - -“I dread another war, Major,” said Miss India, with a little shudder. -“The last one was so terrible.” - -“It was, ma’am, it was. It was brother kill brother. But this one will -be different, Miss Indy, for North and South will stand together and -fight together, and, by Godfrey, there’ll be no stopping until Spanish -dominion in Cuba is a thing of the past!” - -“That’s right,” cried Julian. “This is the whole country together this -time; it’s the United States of America, by Jupiter!” - -“Let us thank God for that,” said Miss India, devoutly. - - * * * * * - -Winthrop and Holly were rather silent until they had left the red clay -road behind and turned into the woods. There, in a little clearing, -Winthrop led the way to the trunk of a fallen pine and they seated -themselves upon it. The afternoon sunlight made its way between the -branches in amber streams. Above them festoons of gray-green moss -decked the trees. The woods were very silent and not even a bird-call -broke the silence. Holly took her hat off and laid it beside her on the -gray bark. Then she turned gravely to Winthrop and met his eyes. - -“What is it?” she whispered. - -“I’ve brought you here, Holly, to ask you to marry me,” he answered. -Holly’s hand flew to her heart, and her eyes grew big and dark. - -“I don’t understand,” she faltered. - -“No, and before I do ask you, dear, I’ve got something to tell you. -Will you listen?” - -“Oh, yes,” answered Holly, simply. - -“I was married when I was twenty-four years old,” began Winthrop, after -a moment. “I had just finished a course in the law school. The girl -I married was four years younger than I. She was very beautiful and -a great belle in the little city in which she lived. We went to New -York and I started in business with a friend of mine. We were stock -brokers. A year later my wife bore me a son; we called him Robert. For -five years we were very happy; those years were the happiest I have -ever known. Then the boy died.” He was silent a moment. “I loved him -a great deal, and I took it hard. I made a mistake then. To forget my -trouble I immersed myself too deeply, perhaps, in business. Well, two -years later I made the discovery that I had failed to keep my wife’s -love. If our boy had lived it would have been different but his death -left her lonely and――I was thoughtless, selfish in my own sorrow, until -it was too late. I found that my wife had grown to love another man. I -don’t blame her; I never have. And she was always honest with me. She -told me the truth. She sued me for divorce and I didn’t contest. That -was six years ago. She has been married for five years and I think, I -pray, that she is very happy.” - -He paused, and Holly darted a glance at his face. He was looking -straight ahead down the woodland path, and for an instant she felt very -lonely and apart. Then―― - -“You see, dear,” he continued, “I have failed to keep one woman’s love. -Could I do better another time? I think so, but――who knows? It would -be a risk for you, wouldn’t it?” - -He turned and smiled gently at her, and she smiled tremulously back. - -“There,” he said. “Now you know what I am. I am thirty-eight years old, -twenty years older than you, and a divorced man into the bargain. Even -if you were willing to excuse those things, Holly, I fear your aunt -could not.” - -“If I were willing,” answered Holly, evenly, “nothing else would -matter. But――you will tell me one thing? Do you――are you quite, quite -sure that you do not still love her――a little?” - -“Quite, Holly. The heart I offer, dear, is absolutely free.” - -“I think God did mean me to love you, then, after all,” said Holly, -thoughtfully. - -Winthrop arose and stood before her, and held out his hand. She placed -hers in it and with her eyes on his allowed him to raise her gently -toward him. - -“Then, Holly,” he said, “I ask you to be my wife, for I love you more -than I can ever tell you. Will you, Holly, will you?” - -“Yes,” sighed Holly. - -Very gently he strove to draw her to him but, with her hands against -his breast, she held herself at the length of his arms. - -“Wait,” she said. “Don’t kiss me until you are sure that you mean what -you’ve said, Robert――quite, quite sure. Because”――her eyes darkened, -and her voice held a fierceness that thrilled him――“because, dear, -after you have kissed me it will be too late to repent. I’ll never let -you go then, never while I live! I’ll fight for you until――until――――!” - -Her voice broke, and the lashes fell tremblingly over her eyes. -Winthrop, awed and stirred, raised the bowed head until her eyes, grown -soft and timid, glanced up at him once more. - -“Dear,” he said, very low and very humbly, “such as I am I am yours as -long as God will let me live for you.” - -He bent his head until his lips were on hers. - -The next instant she had buried her face against his shoulder, and he -felt her body shaking in his arms. - -“Holly!” he cried. “Holly! You’re crying! What is it, dear? What have I -done, Sweetheart?” - -For an instant she ceased to quiver, and from against his coat came a -smothered voice. - -“What’s the good of be-being happy,” sobbed Holly, “if you can’t -cr-cr-cry?” - -A breath of wind from the south swept through the wood, stirring the -tender leaves to rustling murmurs. And the sound was like that of a -little stream which, obstructed in its course, finds a new channel and -leaps suddenly on its way again, laughing joyously. - - -[Illustration: THE END] - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - ――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. - - ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. - - ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOLLY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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-} - -.smfontr { - font-size: .75em; - text-align: right; -} - -/* Illustration caption */ -.caption { - font-size: .75em; - font-weight: bold; -} - -/* Images */ -img { - max-width: 100%; /* no image to be wider than screen or containing div */ - height:auto; /* keep height in proportion to width */ -} - -.illowe6 {width: 6em;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 90%; /* div no wider than screen, even when screen is narrow */ -} - -.figcenter2 { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 50%; /* div no wider than 1/2 screen, even when screen is narrow */ -} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 35%; -} - -/* comment out next line and uncomment the following one for floating figleft on ebookmaker output */ -/* .x-ebookmaker .figleft {float: none; text-align: center; margin-right: 0;} */ -.x-ebookmaker .figleft {float: left;} - -.figright { - float: right; - clear: right; - margin-left: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 35%; -} - -/* comment out next line and uncomment the following one for floating figright on ebookmaker output */ -/* .x-ebookmaker .figright {float: none; text-align: center; margin-left: 0;} */ -.x-ebookmaker .figright {float: right;} - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry { - display: block; - text-align: left; - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} - -.poetry .verse { - padding-left: 3em; - text-indent: -3em; -} - -/* Poetry indents */ -.poetry .indent0 {padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .indent1 {padding-left: 3.5em;} -.poetry .indent2 {padding-left: 4em;} -.poetry .indent3 {padding-left: 4.5em;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.tnote { - background-color: #E6E6FA; - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - padding: .5em; -} - -.tntitle { - font-size: 1.25em; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Title page borders and content. */ -.title { - font-size: 1.75em; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.halftitle { - font-size: 1.5em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.subtitle { - font-size: 1.5em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.author { - font-size: 1.25em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.works { - font-size: .75em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Advertisement formatting. */ -.adauthor { - font-size: 1.25em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Hanging indent. */ -.hang { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Holly, by Ralph Henry Barbour</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Holly</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>The Romance of a Southern Girl</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Ralph Henry Barbour</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Edwin F. Bayha</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 31, 2023 [eBook #69920]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOLLY ***</div> - - -<div class="figcenter" id="cover_sm"> - <img src="images/cover_sm.jpg" alt="cover" title="cover"> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noi halftitle">HOLLY</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" id="i_frontis"> - <img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" title=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_76">HOLLY PLACED HER HAND IN HIS AND LEAPED LIGHTLY TO THE GROUND</a></p> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" id="title_pg"> - <img src="images/title_pg.jpg" alt="title page" title="title page"> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1 class="nobreak">HOLLY</h1> - -<p class="noi subtitle"><i>The Romance of a Southern Girl</i></p> - -<p class="p2 noic">BY</p> - -<p class="noi author">RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</p> - -<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF “A MAID IN ARCADY,” “KITTY<br> -OF THE ROSES,” “AN ORCHARD<br> -PRINCESS,” ETC.</p> - -<p class="p2 noic"><i>With illustrations by</i></p> - -<p class="noic">EDWIN F. BAYHA</p> - -<div class="pad2"> -<div class="figcenter" id="logo"> - <img class="illowe6" src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" title="logo"> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noi adauthor">PHILADELPHIA & LONDON<br> -J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br> -1907</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noic"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1907<br> -By The Curtis Publishing Company</span></p> - -<p class="p2 noic"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1907<br> -By J. B. Lippincott Company</span></p> - -<p class="p4 noic">Published October, 1907</p> - -<p class="p6 noic"><i>Electrotyped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company<br> -The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U. S. A.</i></p> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noic">TO</p> - -<p class="noi author">JESSIE LATSHAW KING</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">LIST OF CHAPTERS</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="noic"><a href="#I">I</a><br> -<a href="#II">II</a><br> -<a href="#III">III</a><br> -<a href="#IV">IV</a><br> -<a href="#V">V</a><br> -<a href="#VI">VI</a><br> -<a href="#VII">VII</a><br> -<a href="#VIII">VIII</a><br> -<a href="#IX">IX</a><br> -<a href="#X">X</a><br> -<a href="#XI">XI</a><br> -<a href="#XII">XII</a><br> -<a href="#XIII">XIII</a><br> -<a href="#XIV">XIV</a></p> - - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - - -<table> -<colgroup> - <col style="width: 85%;"> - <col style="width: 10%;"> -</colgroup> -<tr> - <th> </th> - <th class="smfontr">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_frontis"><span class="smcap">Holly Placed Her Hand -in His and Leaped Lightly to the -Ground </span></a>      <span class="flright"> <i>Frontispiece</i></span></td> - <td class="tdrb"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp144"><span class="smcap">Presently the New Rental -Agreement was Signed</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">144</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp216"><span class="smcap">The Major Held the Little -Bunch of Leaves and Berries over Holly’s Head</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">217</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp258">“<span class="smcap">Keep Away! You’ve Killed -Him</span>”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">258</td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span></p> - -<p class="noi title" id="HOLLY">HOLLY</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="I">I.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Holly’s eighteenth birthday was but a -fortnight distant when the quiet stream of -her life, which since her father’s death six -years before had flowed placidly, with but -few events to ripple its tranquil surface, -was suddenly disturbed....</p> - -<p>To the child of twelve years death, because -of its unfamiliarity and mystery, is -peculiarly terrible. At that age one has become -too wise to find comfort in the vague -and beautiful explanations of tearfully-smiling -relatives—explanations in which -Heaven is pictured as a material region -just out of sight beyond the zenith; too selfishly -engrossed with one’s own loneliness -and terror to be pacified by the contemplation -of the radiant peace and beatitude attained -by the departed one in that ethereal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -and invisible suburb. And at twelve one is -as yet too lacking in wisdom to realize the -beneficence of death.</p> - -<p>Thus it was that when Captain Lamar -Wayne died at Waynewood, in his fiftieth -year, Holly, left quite alone in a suddenly -empty world save for her father’s sister, -Miss India Wayne, grieved passionately -and rebelliously, giving way so abjectly to -her sorrow that Aunt India, fearing -gravely for her health, summoned the family -physician.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p011"> - <img src="images/i_p011.jpg" alt="Holly" title="Holly"> -</div> - -<p>“There is nothing physically wrong with -her,” pronounced the Old Doctor, “nothing -that I can remedy with my poisons. -You must get her mind away from her sorrow, -my dear Miss India. I would suggest -that you take her away for a time; -give her new scenes; interest her in new -affairs. Meanwhile ... there is no harm....” -The Old Doctor wrote a prescription -with his trembling hand ... “a -simple tonic ... nothing more.”</p> - -<p>So Aunt India and Holly went away. At -first the thought of deserting the new grave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> -in the little burying-ground within sight of -the house moved Holly to a renewed madness -of grief. But by the time Uncle Randall -had put their trunk and bags into the -old carriage interest in the journey had -begun to assuage Holly’s sorrow. It was -her first journey into the world. Save for -visits to neighboring plantations and one -memorable trip to Tallahassee while her -father had served in the State Legislature, -she had never been away from Corunna. -And now she was actually going into another -State! And not merely to Georgia, -which would have been a comparatively -small event since the Georgia line ran east<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -and west only a bare half-dozen miles up -the Valdosta road, but away up to Kentucky, -of which, since the Waynes had come -from there in the first part of the century, -Holly had heard much all her life.</p> - -<p>As the carriage moved down the circling -road Holly watched with trembling lips the -little brick-walled enclosure on the knoll. -Then came a sudden gush of tears and convulsive -sobs, and when these had passed -they were under the live-oaks at the -depot, and the train of two cars and a rickety, -asthmatic engine, which ran over the -six-mile branch to the main line, was posing -importantly in front of the weather-beaten -station.</p> - -<p>Holly’s pulses stirred with excitement, -and when, a quarter of an hour later,—for -Aunt India believed in being on time,—she -kissed Uncle Ran good-bye, her eyes were -quite dry.</p> - -<p>That visit had lasted nearly three -months, and for awhile Holly had been surfeited -with new sights and new experiences -against which no grief, no matter how poignant,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -could have been wholly proof. When, -on her return to Waynewood, she paid her -first visit to her father’s grave, the former -ecstasy of grief was absent. In its place -was a tender, dim-eyed melancholy, something -exaltedly sacred and almost sweet, -a sentiment to be treasured and nourished -in reverent devotion. And yet I think it -was not so much the journey that accomplished -this end as it was a realization -which came to her during the first month -of the visit.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p013"> - <img src="images/i_p013.jpg" alt="father's grave" title="father's grave"> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span></p> - -<p>In her first attempts at comforting the -child, and many times since, Aunt India -had reminded Holly that now that her -father had reached Heaven he and her -mother were together once more, and that -since they had loved each other very dearly -on earth they were beyond doubt very -happy in Paradise. Aunt India assured -her that it was a beautiful thought. But it -had never impressed Holly as Miss India -thought it should. Possibly she was too -self-absorbed in her sorrow to consider it -judicially. But one night she had a dream -from which she awoke murmuring happily -in the darkness. She could not remember -very clearly what she had dreamed, although -she strove hard to do so. But she -knew that it was a beautiful dream, a dream -in which her father and her mother,—the -wonderful mother of whom she had no -recollection,—had appeared to her hand in -hand and had spoken loving, comforting -words. For the first time she realized Aunt -India’s meaning; realized how very, very -happy her father and mother must be together<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -in Heaven, and how silly and selfish -she had been to wish him back. All in the -instant there, in the dim silence, the dull -ache of loneliness which had oppressed her -for months disappeared. She no longer -seemed alone; somewhere,—near at hand,—was -sympathy and love and heart-filling -comradeship. Holly lay for awhile very -quiet and happy in the great four-poster -bed, and stared into the darkness with -wide eyes that swam in grateful tears. -Then she fell into a sound, calm sleep.</p> - -<p>She did not tell Aunt India of her dream; -not because there was any lack of sympathy -between them, but because to have shared -it would have robbed it of half its dearness. -For a long, long time it was the most -precious of her possessions, and she hugged -it to her and smiled over it as a mother over -her child. And so I think it was the dream -that accomplished what the Old Doctor -could not,—the dream that brought, as -dreams so often do, Heaven very close to -earth. Dreams are blessed things, be they -day-dreams or dreams of the night; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -even the ugly ones are beneficent, since at -waking they make by contrast reality more -endurable.</p> - -<p>If Aunt India never learned the cause -she was at least quick to note the result. -Holly’s thin little cheeks borrowed tints -from the Duchess roses in the garden, and -Aunt India graciously gave the credit to -Kentucky air, even as she drew her white -silk shawl more closely about her slender -shoulders and shivered in the unaccustomed -chill of a Kentucky autumn.</p> - -<p>Then followed six tranquil years in which -Holly grew from a small, long-legged, angular -child to a very charming maiden of -eighteen, dainty with the fragrant daintiness -of a southern rosebud; small of stature, -as her mother had been before her, yet -possessed of a gracious dignity that added -mythical inches to her height; no longer -angular but gracefully symmetrical with -the soft curves of womanhood; with a fair -skin like the inner petal of a La France -rose; with eyes warmly, deeply brown, -darkened by large irises; a low, broad forehead<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -under a wealth of hair just failing of -being black; a small, mobile mouth, with -lips as freshly red as the blossoms of the -pomegranate tree in the corner of the yard, -and little firm hands and little arched feet -as true to beauty as the needle to the pole. -God sometimes fashions a perfect body, -and when He does can any praise be too -extravagant?</p> - -<p>For the rest, Holly Wayne at eighteen—or, -to be exact, a fortnight before—was -perhaps as contradictory as most girls -of her age. Warm-hearted and tender, she -could be tyrannical if she chose; dignified -at times, there were moments when she -became a breath-taking madcap of a girl,—moments -of which Aunt India strongly but -patiently disapproved; affectionate and -generous, she was capable of showing a -very pretty temper which, like mingled -flash of lightning and roar of thunder, was -severe but brief; tractable, she was not -pliant, and from her father she had inherited -settled convictions on certain subjects, -such for instance as Secession and Emancipation,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> -and an accompanying dash of contumacy -for the protection of them.</p> - -<p>She was fond of books, and had read -every sombre-covered volume of the British -Poets from fly-leaf to fly-leaf. She preferred -poetry to prose, but when the first -was wanting she put up cheerfully with the -latter. The contents of her father’s modest -library had been devoured with a fine catholicity -before she was sixteen. Recent books -were few at Corunna, and had Holly been -asked to name her favorite volume of fiction -she would have been forced to divide -the honor between certain volumes of The -Spectator, St. Elmo, and The Wide, Wide -World. She was intensely fond of being -out of doors; even in her crawling days her -negro mammy had found it a difficult task -to keep her within walls; and so her reading -had ever been <i lang="es">al fresco</i>. Her favorite -place was under the gnarled old fig-tree at -the end of the porch, where, perched in a -comfortable crotch of trunk and branch, or -asway in a hammock, she spent many of -her waking hours. When the weather kept<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -her indoors, she never thought of books at -all. Those stood with her for filtered sunlight, -green-leaf shadows, and the perfume-laden -breezes.</p> - -<p>Her education, begun lovingly and -sternly by her father, had ended with a -four-years’ course at a neighboring Academy, -supplying her with as much knowledge -as Captain Wayne would have considered -proper for her. He had held to old-fashioned -ideas in such matters, and had -considered the ability to quote aptly from -Pope or Dryden of more appropriate value -to a young woman than a knowledge of -Herbert Spencer’s absurdities or a bowing -acquaintance with Differential Calculus. -So Holly graduated very proudly from the -Academy, looking her sweetest in white -muslin and lavender ribbons, and was quite, -quite satisfied with her erudition and contentedly -ignorant of many of the things -that fit into that puzzle which we are -pleased to call Life.</p> - -<p>And now, in the first week of November -in the year 1898, the tranquil stream of her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -existence was about to be disturbed. Although -she could have no knowledge of it, -as yet, Fate was already poising the stone -which, once dropped into that stream, was -destined to cause disquieting ripples, perplexing -eddies, distracting swirls and, in -the end, the formation of a new channel. -And even now the messenger of Fate was -limping along with the aid of his stout cane, -coming nearer and nearer down the road -from the village under the shade of the water-oaks, -a limp and a tap for every beat -of Holly’s unsuspecting heart.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="II">II.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Holly sat on the back porch, her slippered -feet on the topmost step of the flight -leading to the “bridge” and from thence to -the yard. She wore a simple white dress -and dangled a blue-and-white-checked sun-bonnet -from the fingers of her right hand. -Her left hand was very pleasantly occupied, -since its pink palm cradled Holly’s -chin. Above the chin Holly’s lips were -softly parted, disclosing the tips of three -tiny white teeth; above the mouth, Holly’s -eyes gazed abstractedly away over the -roofs of the buildings in the yard and the -cabins behind them, over the tops of the -Le Conte pear-trees in the back lot, over -the fringe of pines beyond, to where, like a -black speck, a buzzard circled and dropped -and circled again above a distant hill. I -doubt if Holly saw the buzzard. I doubt -if she saw anything that you or I could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -have seen from where she sat. I really -don’t know what she did see, for Holly was -day-dreaming, an occupation to which she -had become somewhat addicted during the -last few months.</p> - -<p>The mid-morning sunlight shone warmly -on the back of the house. Across the bridge, -in the kitchen, Aunt Venus was moving -slowly about in the preparation of dinner, -singing a revival hymn in a clear, sweet -falsetto:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Lord Gawd of Israel,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Lord Gawd of Israel,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Lord Gawd of Israel,</div> - <div class="verse indent3">I’s gwan to meet you soon!”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>To the right, in front of the disused office, -a half-naked morsel of light brown humanity -was seated in the dirt at the foot -of the big sycamore, crooning a funny little -accompaniment to his mother’s song, the -while he munched happily at a baked sweet -potato and played a wonderful game with -two spools and a chicken leg. Otherwise -the yard was empty of life save for the -chickens and guineas and a white cat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -asleep on the roof of the well-house. Save -for Aunt Venus’s chant and Young Tom’s -crooning (Young Tom to distinguish him -from his father), the morning world was -quite silent. The gulf breeze whispered in -the trees and scattered the petals of the -late roses. A red-bird sang a note from -the edge of the grove and was still. Aunt -Venus, fat and forty, waddled to the -kitchen door, cast a stern glance at Young -Tom and a softer one at Holly, and disappeared -again, still singing:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Lord Gawd of Israel,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Lord Gawd of Israel,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Lord Gawd of Israel,</div> - <div class="verse indent3">Wash all mah sins away!”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Back of Holly the door stood wide open, -and at the other end of the broad, cool hall -the front portal was no less hospitably -placed. And so it was that when the messenger -of Fate limped and thumped his -way up the steps, crossed the front porch -and paused in the hall, Holly heard and -leaped to her feet.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span></p> - -<p>“Is anyone at home in this house?” -called the messenger.</p> - -<p>Holly sped to meet him.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Uncle Major!”</p> - -<p>Major Lucius Quintus Cass changed his -cane to his left hand and shook hands with -Holly, drawing her to him and placing a -resounding kiss on one soft cheek.</p> - -<p>“The privilege of old age, my dear,” -he said; “one of the few things which reconcile -me to gray hairs and rheumatism.” -Still holding her hand, he drew back, his -head on one side and his mouth pursed -into a grimace of astonishment. “Dearie -me,” he said ruefully, with a shake of his -head, “where’s it going to stop, Holly? -Every time I see you I find you’ve grown -more radiant and lovely than before! -’Pears to me, my dear, you ought to have -some pity for us poor men. Gad, if I was -twenty years younger I’d be down on my -knees this instant!”</p> - -<p>Holly laughed softly and then drew her -face into an expression of dejection.</p> - -<p>“That’s always the way,” she sighed.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -“All the real nice men are either married -or think they’re too old to marry. I -reckon I’ll just die an old maid, Uncle -Major.”</p> - -<p>“Rather than allow it,” the Major replied, -gallantly, “I’ll dye my hair and -marry you myself! But don’t you talk -that way to me, young lady; I know what’s -going on in the world. They tell me the -Marysville road’s all worn out from the -travel over it.”</p> - -<p>Holly tossed her head.</p> - -<p>“That’s only Cousin Julian,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Humph! ‘Only Cousin Julian,’ eh? -Well, Cousin Julian’s a fine-looking beau, -my dear, and Doctor Thompson told me -only last week that he’s doing splendidly, -learning to poison folks off real natural -and saw off their legs and arms so’s it’s a -genuine pleasure to them. I reckon that -in about a year or so Cousin Julian will be -thinking of getting married. Eh? What -say?”</p> - -<p>“He may for all of me,” laughed Holly. -But her cheeks wore a little deeper tint,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> -and the Major chuckled. Then he became -suddenly grave.</p> - -<p>“Is your Aunt at home?” he asked, in a -low voice.</p> - -<p>“She’s up-stairs,” answered Holly. -“I’ll tell her you’re here, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Just a moment,” said the Major, hurriedly. -“I—oh, Lord!” He rubbed his -chin slowly, and looked at Holly in comical -despair. “Holly, pity the sorrows of a -poor old man.”</p> - -<p>“What have you been doing, Uncle Major?” -asked Holly, sternly.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, ’pon my word, my dear! -That is—well, almost nothing. I thought -it was all for the best, but now——” He -stopped and shook his head. Then he -threw back his shoulders, surrendered his -hat and stick to the girl, and marched resolutely -into the parlor. There he turned, -pointed upward and nodded his head silently. -Holly, smiling but perplexed, ran -up-stairs.</p> - -<p>Left alone in the big, square, white-walled -room, dim and still, the Major unbuttoned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -his long frock coat and threw the -lapels aside with a gesture of bravado. -But in another instant he was listening -anxiously to the confused murmur of -voices from the floor above and plucking -nervously at the knees of his trousers. -Presently a long-drawn sigh floated onto -the silence, and—</p> - -<p>“Godamighty!” whispered the Major; -“I wish I’d never done it!”</p> - -<p>The Major was short in stature and generous -of build. Since the war, when a -Northern bullet had almost terminated the -usefulness of his right leg, he had been a -partial cripple and the enforced quiescence -had resulted in a portliness quite out of -proportion to his height. He had a large -round head, still well covered with silky -iron-gray hair, a jovial face lit by restless, -kindly eyes of pale blue, a large, flexible -mouth, and an even more generous nose. -The cheeks had become somewhat pendulous -of late years and reminded one of the -convenient sacks in which squirrels place -nuts in temporary storage. The Major<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -shaved very closely over the whole expanse -of face each morning and by noon was -tinged an unpleasant ghastly blue by the -undiscouraged bristles.</p> - -<p>Although Holly called him “Uncle” he -was in reality no relation. He had ever -been, however, her father’s closest friend -and on terms of greater intimacy than -many near relations. Excepting only -Holly, none had mourned more truly at -Lamar Wayne’s death. The Captain had -been the Major’s senior by only one year, -but seeing them together one would have -supposed the discrepancy in age much -greater. The Major always treated the -Captain like an older brother, accepting -his decisions with unquestioning loyalty, -and accorded him precedence in all things. -It was David and Jonathan over again. -Even after the war, in which the younger -man had won higher promotion, the Major -still considered the Captain his superior -officer.</p> - -<p>The Major pursued an uncertain law -practice and had served for some time as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -Circuit Judge. Among the negroes he was -always “Major Jedge.” That he had -never been able to secure more than the -simplest comforts of life in the pursuit of -his profession was largely due to an unpractical -habit of summoning the opposing -parties in litigation to his office and settling -the case out of court. Add to this -that fully three-fourths of his clients were -negroes, and that “Major Jedge” was too -soft-hearted to insist on payment for his -services when the client was poorer than -he, and you can readily understand that -Major Lucius Quintus Cass’s fashion of -wearing large patches on his immaculately-shining -boots was not altogether a -matter of choice.</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p029"> - <img src="images/i_p029.jpg" alt="Miss India's entrance" title="Miss India's entrance"> -</div> - -<p>The Major had not long to wait for an -audience. As he adjusted his trouser-legs -for the third time the sound of soft footfalls -on the bare staircase reached him. -He glanced apprehensively at the open -door, puffed his cheeks out in a mighty -exhalation of breath, and arose from his -chair just as Miss India Wayne swept into<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -the room. I say swept advisedly, for in -spite of the lady’s diminutive stature she -was incapable of entering a room in any -other manner. Where other women -walked, Miss India swept; where others -bowed, Miss India curtseyed; where others -sat down, Miss India subsided. Hers were -the manners and graces of a half-century -ago. She was fifty-four years old, but -many of those years had passed over her -very lightly. Small, perfectly proportioned, -with a delicate oval face surmounted -by light brown hair, untouched as -yet by frost and worn in a braided coronet, -attired in a pale lavender gown of many -ruffles, she was for all the world like a -little Chelsea figurine. She smiled upon -the Major a trifle anxiously as she shook -hands and bowed graciously to his compliments. -Then seating herself erectly on the -sofa—for Miss India never lolled—she -folded her hands in her lap and looked -calmly expectant at the visitor. As the -visitor exhibited no present intention of -broaching the subject of his visit she took<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -command of the situation, just as she was -capable of and accustomed to taking command -of most situations.</p> - -<p>“Holly has begged me not to be hard on -you, Major,” she said, in her sweet, still -youthful voice. “Pray what have you -been doing now? You are not here, I trust, -to plead guilty to another case of reprehensible -philanthropy?”</p> - -<p>“No, Miss Indy, I assure you that you -have absolutely reformed me, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>Miss India smiled in polite incredulity, -tapping one slender hand upon the other -as she might in the old days at the White -Sulphur have tapped him playfully, yet -quite decorously, with her folded fan. The -Major chose not to observe the incredulity -and continued:</p> - -<p>“The fact is, my dear Miss Indy, that I -have come on a matter of more—ah—importance. -You will recollect—pardon me, -pray, if I recall unpleasant memories to -mind—you will recollect that when your -brother died it was found that he had unfortunately -left very little behind him in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -the way of worldly wealth. He passed onward, -madam, rich in the love and respect -of the community, but poor in earthly possessions.”</p> - -<p>The Major paused and rubbed his bristly -chin agitatedly. Miss India bowed silently.</p> - -<p>“As his executor,” continued the Major, -“it was my unpleasant duty to offer this -magnificent estate for sale. It was purchased, -as you will recollect, by Judge Linderman, -of Georgia, a friend of your -brother’s——”</p> - -<p>“Pardon me, Major; an acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>“Madam, all those so fortunate as to -become acquainted with Captain Lamar -Wayne were his friends.”</p> - -<p>Miss India bowed again and waived the -point.</p> - -<p>“Judge Linderman, as he informed me -at the time of the purchase, bought the -property as a speculation. He was the -owner of much real estate throughout the -South. At his most urgent request you -consented to continue your residence at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -Waynewood, paying him rent for the property.”</p> - -<p>“But nevertheless,” observed Miss India, -a trifle bitterly, “being to a large extent -an object of his charity. The sum -paid as rent is absurd.”</p> - -<p>“Nominal, madam, I grant you,” returned -the Major. “Had our means allowed -we should have insisted on paying -more. But you are unjust to yourself -when you speak of charity. As I pointed -out—or, rather, as Judge Linderman -pointed out to me, had you moved from -Waynewood he would have been required -to install a care-taker, which would have -cost him several dollars a month, whereas -under the arrangement made he drew a -small but steady interest from the investment. -I now come, my dear Miss Indy, to -certain facts which are—with which you -are, I think, unacquainted. That that is so -is my fault, if fault there is. Believe me, -I accept all responsibility in the matter -and am prepared to bear your reproaches -without a murmur, knowing that I have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -acted for what I have believed to be the -best.”</p> - -<p>Miss India’s calm face showed a trace of -agitation and her crossed hands trembled -a little.</p> - -<p>The Major paused as though deliberating.</p> - -<p>“Pray continue, Major,” she said. -“Whatever you have done has been done, -I am certain, from motives of true friendship.”</p> - -<p>The Major bowed gratefully.</p> - -<p>“I thank you, madam. To resume, about -four years ago Judge Linderman became -bankrupt through speculation in cotton. -That, I believe, you already knew. What -you did not know was that in meeting his -responsibilities he was obliged to part with -all his real estate holdings, Waynewood -amongst them.”</p> - -<p>The Major paused, expectantly, but the -only comment from his audience, if comment -it might be called, was a quivering -sigh of apprehension which sent the Major -quickly on with his story.</p> - -<p>“Waynewood fell into the hands of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -Mr. Gerald Potter, of New York, a broker, -who——”</p> - -<p>“A Northerner!” cried Miss India.</p> - -<p>“A Northerner, my dear lady,” granted -the Major, avoiding the lady’s horrified -countenance, “but, as I have been creditably -informed, a thorough gentleman and -a representative of one of the foremost -New York families.”</p> - -<p>“A gentleman!” echoed Miss India, -scornfully. “A Northern gentleman! And -so I am to understand that for four years -I and my niece have been subsisting on the -charity of a Northerner! Is that what you -have come to inform me, Major Cass?”</p> - -<p>“The former arrangement was allowed -to continue,” answered the Major, evenly, -“being quite satisfactory to the new owner -of the property. I regret, if you will pardon -me, the use of the word charity, Miss -India.”</p> - -<p>“You may regret it to your soul’s content, -Major Cass,” replied Miss India, -with acerbity. “The fact remains—the -horrible, dishonoring fact! I consider<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -your course almost—and I had never -thought to use the word to you, sir—insulting!”</p> - -<p>“It is indeed a harsh word, madam,” -replied the Major, gently and sorrowfully. -“I realize that I have been ill-advised in -keeping the truth from you, but in a calmer -moment you will, I am certain, exonerate -me from all intentions unworthy of my -love for your dead brother and of my respect -for you.” There was a suggestive -tremble in the Major’s voice.</p> - -<p>Miss India dropped her eyes to the hands -which were writhing agitatedly in her lap. -Then:</p> - -<p>“You are right, my dear friend,” she -said, softly. “I was too hasty. You will -forgive me, will you not? But—this news -of yours—is so unexpected, so astounding——!”</p> - -<p>“Pray say no more!” interposed the -Major, warmly. “I quite understand your -agitation. And since the subject is unpleasant -to you I will conclude my explanation -as quickly as possible.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span></p> - -<p>“There is more?” asked Miss India, -anxiously.</p> - -<p>“A little. Mr. Potter kept the property -some three years and then—I learned these -facts but a few hours since—then became -involved in financial troubles and—pardon -me—committed suicide. He was found at -his desk in his office something over a year -ago with a bullet in his brain.”</p> - -<p>“Horrible!” ejaculated Miss India, but—and -may I in turn be pardoned if I do -the lady an injustice—there was something -in her tone suggesting satisfaction with the -manner in which a just Providence had -dealt with a Northerner so presumptuous -as to dishonor Waynewood with his ownership. -“And now?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“This morning I received a letter from -a gentleman signing himself Robert Winthrop, -a business partner of the late unfortunate -owner of the property. In the -letter he informs me that after arranging -the firm’s affairs he finds himself in possession -of Waynewood and is coming here -to look it over and, if it is in condition to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -allow of it, to spend some months here. -He writes—let me see; I have his letter -here. Ah, yes. H’m:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“‘My health went back on me after I had got affairs -fixed up, and I have been dandling my heels about a -sanitarium for three months. Now the physician advises -quiet and a change of scene, and it occurs to -me that I may find both in your town. So I am -leaving almost at once for Florida. Naturally, I -wish to see my new possessions, and if the house is -habitable I shall occupy it for three or four months. -When I arrive I shall take the liberty of calling on -you and asking your assistance in the matter.’”</p> -</div> - -<p>The Major folded the letter and returned -it to the cavernous pocket of his coat.</p> - -<p>“I gather that he is—ah—uninformed -of the present arrangement,” he observed.</p> - -<p>“That, I think, is of slight importance,” -returned Miss India, “since by the time -he arrives the house will be quite at his -disposal.”</p> - -<p>“You mean that you intend to move -out?” asked the Major, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Most certainly! Do you think that I—that -either Holly or I—would continue to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -remain under this roof a moment longer -than necessary now that we know it belongs -to a—a Northerner?”</p> - -<p>“But he writes—he expresses himself -like a gentleman, my dear lady, and I feel -certain that he would be only too proud -to have you remain here——”</p> - -<p>“I have never yet seen a Northern gentleman, -Major,” replied Miss India, contemptuously, -“and until I do I refuse to -believe in the existence of such an anomaly.”</p> - -<p>The Major raised his hands in a gesture -of helpless protestation.</p> - -<p>“Madam, I had the honor of fighting the -Northerners, and I assure you that many -of them are gentlemen. Their ways are -not ours, I grant you, nor are their manners, -but——”</p> - -<p>“That is a subject upon which, I recollect, -you and my brother were never able -to agree.”</p> - -<p>The Major nodded ruefully. The momentary -silence was broken at last by Miss -India.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span></p> - -<p>“I do not pretend to pit my imperfect -knowledge against yours, Major. There -may be Northerners who have gentlemanly -instincts. That, as may be, I refuse to be -beholden to one of them. They were our -enemies and they are still <em>my</em> enemies. -They killed my brother John; they -brought ruin to our land.”</p> - -<p>“The killing, madam, was not all on -their side, I take satisfaction in recalling. -And if they brought distress to the South -they have since very nobly assisted us to -restore it.”</p> - -<p>“My brother has said many times,” replied -the lady, “that he might in time forgive -the North for knocking us down but -that he could never forgive it for helping -us up. You have heard him say that, Major?”</p> - -<p>“I have, my dear Miss India, I have. -And yet I venture to say that had the Lord -spared Lamar for another twenty years -he would have modified his convictions.”</p> - -<p>“Never,” said Miss India, sternly; -“never!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span></p> - -<p>“You may be right, my dear lady, but -there was something else I have often -heard him say.”</p> - -<p>“And pray what is that?”</p> - -<p>“A couplet of Mr. Pope’s, madam:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“‘Good nature and good sense must ever join;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To err is human; to forgive, divine.’”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“I reckon, however,” answered the lady, -dryly, “that you never heard him connect -that sentiment with the Yankees.”</p> - -<p>The Major chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Deftly countered, madam!” he said. -And then, taking advantage of the little -smile of gratification which he saw: “But -this is a subject which you and I, Miss India, -can no more agree upon than could -your brother and myself. Let us pass it -by. But grant me this favor. Remain at -Waynewood until this Mr. Winthrop arrives. -See him before you judge him, -madam. Remember that if what he writes -gives a fair exposition of the case, he is -little better than an invalid and so must -find sympathy in every woman’s heart.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -There is time enough to go, if go you must, -afterwards. It is scarcely likely that Mr. -Winthrop could find better tenants. And no -more likely that you and Holly could find -so pleasant a home. Do this, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>And Miss India surrendered; not at -once, you must know, but after a stubborn -defence, and then only when mutineers -from her own lines made common cause -with the enemy. Before the allied forces -of the Major’s arguments and her own womanly -sympathy she was forced to capitulate. -And so when a few moments later -Holly, after a sharp skirmish of her own -in which she had been decisively beaten by -Curiosity, appeared at the door, she found -Aunt India and the Major amicably discussing -village affairs.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="III">III.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Robert Winthrop, laden with bag, overcoat -and umbrella, left the sleeping-car in -which he had spent most of the last eighteen -hours and crossed the narrow platform -of the junction to the train which was -to convey him the last stage of his journey. -It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon—for -the Florida Limited, according -to custom, had been two hours late—and -Winthrop was both jaded and dirty; and I -might add that, since this was his first experience -with Southern travel, he was also -somewhat out of patience.</p> - -<p>Choosing the least soiled of the broken-springed, -red-velveted seats in the white -compartment of the single passenger car, -he set his bag down and sank weariedly -back. Through the small window beside -him he saw the Limited take up its jolting -progress once more, and watched the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> -station-agent deposit his trunk in the -baggage-car ahead, which, with the single -passenger-coach, comprised the Corunna -train. Then followed five minutes during -which nothing happened. Winthrop sighed -resignedly and strove to find interest in -the view. But there was little to see from -where he sat; a corner of the station, a -section of platform adorned with a few -bales of cotton, a crate of live chickens, -and a bag of raw peanuts, a glimpse of the -forest which crept down to the very edge -of the track, a wide expanse of cloudless -blue sky. Through the open door and windows, -borne on the lazy sun-warmed air, -came the gentle wheezing of the engine -ahead, the sudden discordant chatter of a -bluejay, and the murmurous voices of two -negro women in the other compartment. -There was no hint of Winter in the air, -although November was almost a week -old; instead, it was warm, languorous, -scented with the odors of the forest and -tinged at times with the pleasantly acrid -smell of burning pitch-pine from the engine.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -It was strangely soft, that air, soft -and soothing to tired nerves, and Winthrop -felt its influence and sighed. But this time -the sigh was not one of resignation; rather -of surrender. He stretched his legs as well -as he might in the narrow space afforded -them, leaned his head back and closed his -eyes. He hadn’t realized until this moment -how tired he was! The engine -sobbed and wheezed and the negroes -beyond the closed door murmured on.</p> - -<p>“Your ticket, sir, if you please.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop opened his eyes and blinked. -The train was swaying along between -green, sunlit forest walls, and at his side -the conductor was waiting with good-humored -patience. Winthrop yielded the last -scrap of his green strip and sat up. Suddenly -the wood fell behind on either side, -giving place to wide fields which rolled -back from the railroad to disappear over -tiny hills. They were fertile, promising-looking -fields, chocolate-hued, covered with -sere, brown cotton-plants to which here and -there tufts of white still clung. Rail fences<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -zigzagged between them, and fire-blackened -pine stumps marred their neatness. -At intervals the engine emitted a doleful -screech and a narrow road crossed the -track to amble undecidedly away between -the fields. At such moments Winthrop -caught glimpses -of an occasional -log cabin with -its tipsy, clay-chinked -chimney -and its invariable -congress of lean -chickens and leaner dogs. Now and then -a commotion along the track drew his -attention to a scurrying, squealing drove of -pigs racing out of danger. Then for a time -the woods closed in again, and presently -the train slowed down before a small station. -Winthrop reached tentatively toward -his bag, but at that instant the sign came -into sight, “Cowper,” he read, and settled -back again.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p046"> - <img src="images/i_p046.jpg" alt="Cowper" title="Cowper"> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span></p> - -<p>Apparently none boarded the train and -none got off, and presently the journey began -once more. The conductor entered, -glanced at Winthrop, decided that he -didn’t look communicative and so sat himself -down in the corner and leisurely bit -the corner off a new plug of tobacco.</p> - -<p>The fields came into sight again, and -once a comfortable-looking residence gazed -placidly down at the passing train from -the crest of a nearby hill. But Winthrop -saw without seeing. His thoughts were reviewing -once more the chain of circumstances -which had led link by link to the -present moment. His thoughts went no -further back than that painful morning -nearly two years before when he had discovered -Gerald Potter huddled over his -desk, a revolver beside him on the floor, -and his face horrible with the stains of -blood and of ink from the overturned ink-stand. -They had been friends ever since -college days, Gerald and he, and the shock -had never quite left him. During the subsequent -work of disentangling the affairs<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -of the firm the thing haunted him like a -nightmare, and when the last obligation -had been discharged, Winthrop’s own -small fortune going with the rest, he had -broken down completely. Nervous prostration, -the physician called it. Looking -back at it now Winthrop had a better name -for it, and that was, Hell. There had been -moments when he feared he would die, and -interminable nights when he feared he -wouldn’t, when he had cried like a baby -and begged to be put out of misery. There -had been two months of that, and then they -had bundled him off to a sanitarium in the -Connecticut hills. There he, who a few -months before had been a strong, capable -man of thirty-eight, found himself a weak, -helpless, emaciated thing with no will of -his own, a mere sleeping and waking automaton, -more interested in watching the -purple veins on the backs of his thin hands -than aught else in his limited world. At -times he could have wept weakly from self-pity.</p> - -<p>But that, too, had passed. One sparkling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -September morning he lay stretched at -length in a long chair on the uncovered veranda, -a flood of inspiriting sunlight upon -him, and a little breeze, brisk with the cool -zest of Autumn, stirring his hair. And he -had looked up from the white and purple -hands and had seen a new world of green -and gold and blue spread before him at his -feet, a twelve-mile panorama of Nature’s -finest work retouched and varnished overnight. -He had feasted his eyes upon it -and felt a glad stirring at his heart. And -that day had marked the beginning of a -new stage of recovery; he had asked, “How -long?”</p> - -<p>The last week in October had seen his release. -He had returned to his long-vacant -apartment in New York fully determined to -start at once the work of rebuilding his -fallen fortunes. But his physician had interposed. -“I’ve done what I can for you,” -he said, “and the rest is in your own hands. -Get away from New York; it won’t supply -what you need. Get into the country somewhere, -away from cities and tickers. Hunt,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -fish, spend your time out of doors. There’s -nothing organically wrong with that heart -of yours, but it’s pretty tired yet; nurse it -awhile.”</p> - -<p>“The programme sounds attractive,” -Winthrop had replied, smilingly, “but it’s -expensive. Practically I am penniless. -Give me a year to gather the threads up -again and get things a-going once more, -and I’ll take your medicine gladly.”</p> - -<p>The physician had shrugged his shoulders -with a grim smile.</p> - -<p>“I have never heard,” he replied, “that -the hunting or fishing was especially good -in the next world.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” asked Winthrop, -frowning.</p> - -<p>“Just this, sir. You say you can’t afford -to take a vacation. I say you can’t afford -not to take it. I’ve lived a good deal longer -than you and I give you my word I never -saw a poor man who wasn’t a whole lot -better off than any dead one of my acquaintance. -I don’t want to frighten you, -but I tell you frankly that if you stay here<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -and buckle down to rebuilding your business -you’ll be a damned poor risk for any -insurance company inside of two weeks. -It’s better to live poor than to die rich. -Take your choice.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop had taken it. After all, poverty -is comparative, and he realized that -he was still as well off as many a clerk -who was contentedly keeping a family on -his paltry twenty or thirty dollars a week. -He sub-rented his apartment, paid what -bills he owed out of the small balance -standing to his name at the bank, and considered -the question of destination. It -was then that he had remembered the piece -of property in Florida which he had taken -over for the firm and which, having been -the least desirable of the assets, had escaped -the creditors. He went to the telephone -and called up the physician.</p> - -<p>“How would Florida do?” he had asked. -“Good place to play invalid, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care where you go,” was the -response, “so long as there’s pure air and -sunshine there, and as long as you give<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -your whole attention to mending yourself.”</p> - -<p>He had never been in Florida, but it appealed -to him and he believed that, since -he must live economically, there could be -no better place; at least there would be no -rent to pay. So he had written to Major -Cass, whose name he had come across in -looking over his partner’s papers, and had -started South on the heels of his letter. -The trip had been a hard one for him, but -now the soft, fragrant air that blew against -his face through the open car window was -already soothing him with its caressing -touch and whispering fair promises of -strengthening days. A long blast of the -whistle moved the conductor to a return -of animation and Winthrop awoke from -his thoughts. The train was slowing down -with a grinding of hand-brakes. Through -the window he caught glimpses of gardens -and houses and finally of a broad, tree-lined -street marching straight away from -the railroad up a sloping hill to a gray -stone building with a wooden cupola which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -seemed to block its path. Then the station -threw its shadow across him and the -train, with many jerks and much rattling -of coupling, came to a stop.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p054"> - <img src="images/i_p054.jpg" alt="Corunna" title="Corunna"> -</div> - -<p>“Corunna,” drawled the conductor.</p> - -<p>Outside, on the platform which ran in -front of the station on a level with the car -floors, Winthrop looked about him with -mingled amusement and surprise. In most -places, he thought, the arrival of the daily -train was an event of sufficient importance -to people the station platform with spectators. -But here he counted just three -persons beside himself and the train crew. -These were the two negresses who had -travelled with him and the station agent. -There was no carriage in sight; not even -a dray for his trunk. He applied to the -agent.</p> - -<p>“Take that street over yonder,” said -the agent, “and it’ll fetch you right square -to the Major’s office, sir. I’ll look after -your bag until you send for it. You tell -the nigger to ask me for it, sir.”</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p055"> - <img src="images/i_p055.jpg" alt="Winthrop's bags" title="Winthrop's bags"> -</div> - -<p>So Winthrop yielded the bag, coat and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -umbrella and started forth. The station -and the adjoining freight-shed stood, neutral-hued, -under the wide-spreading -branches of several magnificent live-oaks, -in one of which, hidden somewhere in -the thick greenery, a thrush was singing. -This sound, with that of the panting of -the tired engine, alone stirred the somnolent -silence of mid-afternoon. A road, -deep with white sand, ambled away beneath -the trees in the direction of the wide -street which Winthrop had seen from the -car and to which he had been directed. It -proved to be a well-kept thoroughfare -lined with oaks and bordered by pleasant -gardens in front of comfortable, always -picturesque and sometimes handsome<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -houses. The sidewalks were high above -the street, and gullies of red clay, washed -deep by the heavy rains, divided the two. -In front of the gates little bridges crossed -the gullies. The gardens were still aflame -with late flowers and the scent of roses was -over all. Winthrop walked slowly, his -senses alert and enravished. He drew in -deep breaths of the fragrant air and sighed -for very contentment.</p> - -<p>“Heavens,” he said under his breath, -“the place is just one big rest cure! If I -can’t get fixed up here I might as well give -up trying. I wonder,” he added a moment -later, “if every one is asleep.”</p> - -<p>There was not a soul in sight up the -length of the street, but from one of the -houses came the sound of a piano and, as -he glanced toward its embowered porch, he -thought he caught the white of a woman’s gown.</p> - -<p>“Someone’s awake, anyhow,” he -thought. “Maybe she’s a victim of insomnia.”</p> - -<p>The street came to an end in a wide<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -space surrounded by one- and two-story -stores and occupied in the centre by a -stone building which he surmised to be the -court-house. He bore to the right, his eyes -searching the buildings for the shingle of -Major Cass. A few teams were standing -in front of the town hitching-rails, and perhaps -a dozen persons, mostly negroes, were -in view. He had decided to appeal for information -when he caught sight of a modest -sign on a corner building across the -square. “L. Q. Cass, Counsellor at Law,” -he read. The building was a two-story affair -of crumbling red brick. The lower -part was occupied by a general merchandise -store, and the upper by offices. A -flight of wooden steps led from the sidewalk -along the outside of the building to -the second floor. Winthrop ascended, entered -an open door, and knocked at the first -portal. But there was no reply to his demands, -and, as the other rooms in sight -were evidently untenanted, he returned to -the street and addressed himself to a youth -who sat on an empty box under the wooden<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -awning of the store below. The youth was -in his shirt-sleeves and was eating sugar-cane, -but at Winthrop’s greeting he rose -to his feet, wiped his mouth with the back -of his hand and answered courteously:</p> - -<p>“Waynewood is about three-quarters of -a mile, sir,” he replied to the stranger’s -inquiry. “Right down this street, sir, until -you cross the bridge over the branch. -Then it’s the first place.”</p> - -<p>He was evidently very curious about the -questioner, but strove politely to restrain -that curiosity until the other had moved -away along the street.</p> - -<p>The street upon which Winthrop now -found himself ran at right angles with that -up which he had proceeded from the station. -Like that, it was shaded from side to -side by water-oaks and bordered by gardens. -But the gardens were larger, less -flourishing, and the houses behind them -smaller and less tidy. He concluded that -this was an older part of the village. Several -carriages passed him, and once he -paused in the shade to watch the slow approach<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> -and disappearance of a creaking -two-wheeled cart, presided over by a white-haired -old negro and drawn by a pair of -ruminative oxen. It was in sight quite five -minutes, during which time Winthrop -leaned against the sturdy bole of an oak -and marvelled smilingly.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p058"> - <img src="images/i_p058.jpg" alt="two-wheeled cart and oxen" title="two-wheeled cart and oxen"> -</div> - -<p>“And in New York,” he said to himself, -“we swear because it takes us twenty minutes -to get to Wall Street on the elevated!”</p> - -<p>He went on, glad of the rest, passing -from sunlight to shadow along the uneven -sidewalk and finally crossing the bridge, a -tiny affair over a shallow stream of limpid -water which trickled musically over its bed -of white sand. Beyond the bridge the sidewalk -ceased and he went on for a little distance -over a red clay road, rutted by -wheels and baked hard by the sun. Then -a picket fence which showed evidence of -having once been whitewashed met him and -he felt a sudden stirring within him. This -was Waynewood, doubtless, and it belonged -to him. The thought was somehow -a very pleasant one. He wondered why.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -He had possessed far more valuable real -estate in his time but he couldn’t recollect -that he had ever thrilled before at the -thought of ownership.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p061"> - <img src="images/i_p061.jpg" alt="Waynewood" title="Waynewood"> -</div> - -<p>“Oh, there’s magic in this ridiculous -air,” he told himself whimsically. “Even -a toad would look romantic here, I dare -say. I wonder if there is a gate to my domain.”</p> - -<p>Behind the fence along which he made -his way was an impenetrable mass of -shrubbery and trees. Of what was beyond, -there was no telling. But presently the -gate was before him, sagging wide open on -its rusted hinges. From it a straight path, -narrow and shadowy, proceeded for some -distance, crossed a blur of sunlight and -continued to where a gleam of white -seemed to indicate a building. The path -was set between solid rows of oleander -bushes whose lanceolate leaves whispered -murmurously to Winthrop as he trod the -firm, moss-edged path.</p> - -<p>The blur of sunlight proved to be a break -in the path where a driveway angled across<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -it, curving on toward the house and backward -toward the road where, as Winthrop -later discovered, it emerged through a gate -beyond the one by which he had entered. -He crossed the drive and plunged again -into the gloom of the oleander path. But -his journey was almost over, for a moment -later the sentinel bushes dropped away -from beside him and he found himself at -the foot of a flower garden, across whose -blossom-flecked width a white-pillared, -double-galleried old house stared at him -in dignified calm. The porches were untenanted -and the wide-open door showed -an empty hall. To reach that door Winthrop -had to make a half circuit of the -garden, for directly in front of him a great -round bed of roses and box barred his way. -In the middle of the bed a stained marble -cupid twined garlands of roses about his -naked body. Winthrop followed the path -to the right and circled his way to the drive -and the steps, the pleasure of possession -kindling in his heart. With his foot on the -lowest step he paused and glanced about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> -him. It was charming! Find his health -here? Oh, beyond a doubt he would. -Ponce de Leon had searched in this part of -the world for the Fountain of Youth. Who -knew but that he, Robert Winthrop, might -not find it here, hidden away in this fragrant, -shaded jungle? And just then his -wandering glance fell on a sprawling fig-tree -at the end of the porch, at a white figure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -perched in its branches, at a girl’s -fresh young face looking across at him -with frank and smiling curiosity.</p> - -<p>Winthrop took off his hat and moved toward -the fig-tree.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The Major had accomplished his errand -and had taken his departure, accompanied -down the oleander path as far as the gate -by Holly. He was very well satisfied with -his measure of success. Miss India had -consented to remain at Waynewood until -the arrival of the new owner, and if the -new owner proved to be the kind of man -the Major hoped him to be, things would -work out quite satisfactory. Of course -a good deal depended on Robert Winthrop’s -being as much of an invalid as the -Major had pictured him to Miss India. -Let him appear on the scene exhibiting a -sound body and rugged health and all the -Major’s plans would be upset; Miss India’s -sympathy would vanish on the instant, -and Waynewood would be promptly -abandoned to the enemy.</p> - -<p>The Major’s affection for Miss India<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> -and Holly was deep and sincere, and -the idea of their leaving Waynewood -was intolerable to him. The thing mustn’t -be, and he believed he could prevent -it. Winthrop, on arrival, would of course -call upon him at once. Then he would -point out to him the advantage of retaining -such admirable tenants, acquaint him -with the terms of occupancy, and prevail -upon him to renew the lease, which had -expired some months before. It was not -likely that Winthrop would remain in Corunna -more than three months at the most, -and during his stay he could pay Miss India -for his board. Yes, the Major had -schemed it all out between the moment of -receiving that disquieting letter and the -moment of his arrival at Waynewood. And -his schemes looked beyond the present crisis. -In another year or so Julian Wayne, -Holly’s second cousin, would have finished -his term with Doctor Thompson at Marysville -and would be ready to begin practice -for himself, settle down and marry Holly. -Why shouldn’t Julian buy Waynewood?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -To be sure, he possessed very little capital, -but it was not likely that the present owner -of Waynewood would demand a large price -for the property. There could be a mortgage, -and Julian was certain to make a success -of his profession. In this way Waynewood -would remain with the Waynes and -Miss India and Holly could live their lives -out in the place that had always been home -to them. So plotted the Major, while Fate, -outwardly inscrutable, doubtless chuckled -in her sleeve.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p065"> - <img src="images/i_p065.jpg" alt="Major Cass" title="Major Cass"> -</div> - -<p>At the gate the Major had shaken hands -with Holly and made a request.</p> - -<p>“My dear,” he had said, “when you return -to the house your Aunt will have -something to tell you. Be guided by her. -Remember that there are two sides to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -every question and that—ah—time alters -all things.”</p> - -<p>“But, Uncle Major, I don’t know what -you’re talking about,” Holly had declared, -laughing.</p> - -<p>“I know you don’t, my dear; I know -you don’t. And I haven’t time to tell -you.” He had drawn his big silver watch -from his vest and glanced at it apprehensively. -“I promised to be at my office -an hour ago. I really must hurry back. -Good-bye, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye,” Holly had answered. “But -I think you’re a most provoking, horrid -old Uncle Major.”</p> - -<p>But if the Major had feared mutiny on -the part of Holly he might have spared -himself the uneasiness. Holly had heard of -the impending event from Aunt India at -the dinner table with relish. Of course -it was disgusting to learn that Waynewood -was owned by a Northerner, but doubtless -that was an injustice of Fate which would -be remedied in good time. The exciting -thing was that they were to have a visitor,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -a stranger, someone from that fearsomely -interesting and, if reports were to be credited, -delightfully wicked place called New -York; someone who could talk to her of -other matters than the prospects of securing -the new railroad.</p> - -<p>“Auntie, is he married?” she had asked, -suddenly.</p> - -<p>“My dear Holly, what has that to do -with it?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you see,” Holly had responded, -demurely, “I’m not married myself, and -when you put two people together who are -not married, why, something may happen.”</p> - -<p>“Holly!” protested Miss India, in horror.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I was only in fun,” said Holly, with -a laugh. “Do you reckon, Auntie dear, -that I’d marry a Northerner?”</p> - -<p>“I should certainly trust not,” replied -Miss India, severely.</p> - -<p>“Not if he had millions and millions of -money and whole bushels of diamonds,” -answered Holly, cheerfully. “But is he -married, Auntie?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span></p> - -<p>“I’m sure I can’t say. The Major believes -him to be a man of middle age, possibly -fifty years old, and so it is quite likely -that he has a wife.”</p> - -<p>“And he is not bringing her with him?”</p> - -<p>“He said nothing of it in his letter, my -dear.”</p> - -<p>“Then I think she’s a very funny kind of -a wife,” replied Holly, with conviction. -“If he is an invalid, I don’t see why she -lets him come away down here all alone. -I wouldn’t if I were she. I’d be afraid.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t reckon he’s as much of an invalid -as all that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wasn’t thinking about his health -then,” answered Holly. “I’d be afraid -he’d meet someone he liked better than me -and I wouldn’t see him again.”</p> - -<p>“Holly, where do you get such deplorable -notions?” asked her Aunt severely. -“It must be the books you read. You read -altogether too much. At your age, my -dear, I assure you I——”</p> - -<p>“I shall be eighteen in just twelve -days,” interrupted Holly. “And eighteen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -is grown-up. Besides, you know very well -that wives do lose their husbands sometimes. -There was Cousin Maybird Fairleigh——”</p> - -<p>“I decline to discuss such vulgar subjects,” -said Miss India, decisively. “Under -the circumstances I think it just as -well to forget the relationship, which is of -the very slightest, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“But it wasn’t Cousin Maybird’s fault,” -protested Holly. “She didn’t want to -lose him, Aunt India. He was a very nice -husband; very handsome and distinguished, -you know. It was all the fault of -that other woman, the one he married after -the divorce.”</p> - -<p>“Holly!”</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“We will drop the subject, if you -please.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Auntie.”</p> - -<p>Holly smiled at her plate. Presently:</p> - -<p>“When is this Mr. Winthrop coming?” -she asked.</p> - -<p>“He didn’t announce the exact date of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -arrival,” replied Miss India. “But probably -within a day or two. I have ordered -Phœbe to prepare the West Chamber for -him. He will, of course, require a warm -room and a good bed.”</p> - -<p>“But, Auntie, the carpet is so awful in -the West Room,” deplored Holly.</p> - -<p>“That is his affair,” replied Aunt India, -serenely, as she arose from the table. “It -is his carpet.”</p> - -<p>Holly looked surprised, then startled.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that everything here belongs -to him?” she asked, incredulously. -“The furniture and pictures and books -and—and everything?”</p> - -<p>“Waynewood was sold just as it stood -at the time, my dear. Everything except -what is our personal property belongs to -Mr. Winthrop.”</p> - -<p>“Then I shall hate him,” said Holly, -with calm decision.</p> - -<p>“You must do nothing of the sort, my -dear. The place and the furnishings belong -to him legally.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care, Auntie. He has no right<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> -to them. I shall hate him. Why, he owns -the very bed I sleep in and my maple bureau -and——”</p> - -<p>“You forget, Holly, that those things -were bought after your father died and do -not belong to his estate.”</p> - -<p>“Then they’re really mine, after all? -Very well, Auntie dear, I shan’t hate him, -then; at least, not so much.”</p> - -<p>“I trust you will not hate him at all,” -responded Miss India, with a smile. “Being -an invalid, as he is, we must——”</p> - -<p>“Shucks!” exclaimed Holly. “I dare -say he’s just making believe so we won’t -put poison in his coffee!”</p> - -<p>In the middle of the afternoon, what time -Miss India composed herself to slumber -and silence reigned over Waynewood, -Holly found a book and sought the fig-tree. -The book, for having been twice read, -proved none too enthralling, and presently -it had dropped unheeded to the ground and -Holly, leaning comfortably back against -the branches, was day-dreaming once more. -The sound of footsteps on the garden path<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -roused her, and she peered forth just as -the intruder began his half circuit of the -rose-bed.</p> - -<p>Afterwards Holly called herself stupid -for not having guessed the identity -of the intruder at once. And yet, it -seems to me that she was very excusable. -Robert Winthrop had been -pictured to her as an invalid, and invalids -in Holly’s judgment were persons -who lay supinely in easy chairs, lived on -chicken broth, guava jelly and calomel, and -were alternately irritatingly resigned or -maddeningly petulant. The expected invalid -had also been described as middle-aged, -a term capable of wide interpretation -and one upon which the worst possible -construction is usually placed. The -Major had suggested fifty; Holly with unconscious -pessimism imagined sixty. Add -to this that Winthrop was not expected -before the morrow, and that Holly’s -acquaintance with the inhabitants of the -country north of Mason and Dixon’s line -was of the slightest and that not of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -sort to prepossess her in their favor, and -I think she may be absolved from the -charge of stupidity. For the stranger -whose advent in the garden had aroused -her from her dreams looked to be under -forty, was far from matching Holly’s idea -of an invalid, and looked quite unlike the -one or two Northerners she had seen. To -be sure the man in the garden walked -slowly and a trifle languidly, but for that -matter so did many of Holly’s townsfolk. -And when he paused at last with one foot -on the lower step his breath was coming a -bit raggedly and his face was too pale for -perfect health. But these facts Holly -failed to observe.</p> - -<p>What she did observe was that the stranger -was rather tall, quite erect, broad of -shoulder and deep of chest, somewhat too -thin for the size of his frame, with a pleasant, -lean face of which the conspicuous features -were high cheek-bones, a straightly -uncompromising nose and a pair of nice -eyes of some shade neither dark nor light. -He wore a brown mustache which, contrary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -to the Southern custom, was trimmed quite -short; and when he lifted his hat a moment -later Holly saw that his hair, dark -brown in color, had retreated well away -from his forehead and was noticeably -sprinkled with white at the temples. As -for his attire, it was immaculate; black -derby, black silk tie knotted in a four-in-hand -and secured with a small pearl pin, -well-cut grey sack suit and brown leather -shoes. In a Southerner Holly would have -thought such carefulness of dress foppish; -in fact, as it was, she experienced a -tiny contempt for it even as she acknowledged -that the result was far from displeasing. -Further observations and conclusions -were cut short by the stranger, -who advanced toward her with hat in hand -and a puzzled smile.</p> - -<p>“How do you do?” said Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“Good evening,” answered Holly.</p> - -<p>There was a flicker of surprise in Winthrop’s -eyes ere he continued.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I’m trespassing. The fact -is, I was looking for a place called Waynewood<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> -and from the directions I received in -the village I thought I had found it. But -I guess I’ve made a mistake?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” said Holly; “this is Waynewood.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop was silent a moment, striving -to reconcile the announcement with her -presence: evidently there were complications -ahead. At last:</p> - -<p>“Oh!” he said, and again paused.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to see my Aunt?” -asked Holly.</p> - -<p>“Er—I hardly know,” answered Winthrop, -with a smile for his own predicament. -“Would it sound impolite if I asked -who your Aunt is?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Miss India Wayne,” answered -Holly. “And I am Holly Wayne. Perhaps -you’ve got the wrong place, after -all?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” was the reply. “You say this -is Waynewood, and of course there can’t -be two Waynewoods about here.”</p> - -<p>Holly shook her head, observing him -gravely and curiously. Winthrop frowned.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> -Apparently there were complications -which he had not surmised.</p> - -<p>“Will you come into the house?” suggested -Holly. “I will tell Auntie you wish -to see her.” She prepared to descend -from the low branch upon which she was -seated, and Winthrop reached a hand to -her.</p> - -<p>“May I?” he asked, courteously.</p> - -<p><a href="#i_frontis">Holly placed her hand in his and leaped -lightly to the ground</a>, bending her head -as she smoothed her skirt that he might -not see the ridiculous little flush which had -suddenly flooded her cheeks. Why, she -wondered, should she have blushed. She -had been helped in and out of trees and -carriages, up and down steps, all her life, -and couldn’t recollect that she had ever -done such a silly thing before! As she led -the way along the path which ran in front -of the porch to the steps, she discovered -that her heart was thumping with a most -disconcerting violence. And with the discovery -came a longing for flight. But -with a fierce contempt for her weakness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> -she conquered the panic and kept her -flushed face from the sight of the man behind -her. But she was heartily glad when -she had reached the comparative gloom of -the hall. Laying aside her bonnet, she -turned to find that her companion had -seated himself in a chair on the porch.</p> - -<p>“You won’t mind if I wait here?” he -asked, smiling apologetically. “The fact -is—the walk was——”</p> - -<p>Had Holly not been anxious to avoid his -eyes she would have seen that he was fighting -for breath and quite exhausted. Instead -she turned toward the stairs, only -to pause ere she reached them to ask:</p> - -<p>“What name shall I say, please?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I beg your pardon! Winthrop, -please; Mr. Robert Winthrop, of New -York.”</p> - -<p>Holly wheeled about.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Winthrop!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“If you please,” answered that gentleman, -weakly.</p> - -<p>“Why,” continued Holly, in amazement, -“then you aren’t an invalid, after all!”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -She had reached the door now and was -looking down at him with bewilderment. -Winthrop strove to turn his head toward -her, gave up the effort and smiled strainedly -at the marble Cupid, which had begun -an erratic dance amongst the box and -roses.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” he replied in a whisper. “I’m -not—an invalid—at all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span></p> - -<p>Then he became suddenly very white and -his head fell back over the side of the chair. -Holly gave one look and, turning, flew like -the wind up the broad stairway.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p078"> - <img src="images/i_p078.jpg" alt="Robert Winthrop" title="Robert Winthrop"> -</div> - -<p>“Auntie!” she called. “Aunt India! -Come quickly! He’s fainted!”</p> - -<p>“Fainted? Who has fainted?” asked -Miss India, from her doorway. “What -are you saying, child?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Winthrop! He’s on the porch!” -cried Holly, her own face almost as white -as Winthrop’s.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Winthrop! Here? Fainted? On -the porch?” ejaculated Miss India, dismayedly. -“Call Uncle Ran at once. I’ll -get the ammonia. Tell Phœbe to bring -some feathers. And get some water yourself, -Holly.”</p> - -<p>In a moment Miss India, the ammonia -bottle in hand, was—I had almost said -scuttling down the stairs. At least, she -made the descent without wasting a moment.</p> - -<p>“The poor man,” she murmured, as she -looked down at the white face and inert<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -form of the stranger. “Holly! Phœbe! -Oh, you’re here, are you? Give me the -water. There! Now bathe his head, Holly. -Mercy, child, how your hand shakes! -Have you never seen any one faint before?”</p> - -<p>“It was so sudden,” faltered Holly.</p> - -<p>“Fainting usually is,” replied Miss India, -as she dampened her tiny handkerchief -with ammonia and held it under Winthrop’s -nose. “Do not hold his head too -high, Holly; that’s better. What do you -say, Phœbe? Why, you’ll just stand there -and hold them until I want them, I reckon. -Dead? Of course he isn’t dead, you foolish -girl. Not the least bit dead. There, his -eyelids moved; didn’t you see them? He -will be all right in a moment. You may -take those feathers away, Phœbe, and tell -Uncle Ran to come and carry Mr. Winthrop -up to his room. And do you go -up and start the fire and turn the bed -down.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop drew a long breath and opened -his eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p> - -<p>“My dear lady,” he muttered, “I am so -very sorry to bother you. I don’t——”</p> - -<p>“Sit still a moment, sir,” commanded -Miss India, gently. “Holly, I told you to -hold his head. Don’t you see that he is -weak and tired? I fear the journey was -too much for you, sir.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop closed his eyes for a moment, -nodding his head assentingly. Then he sat -up and smiled apologetically at the ladies.</p> - -<p>“It was awfully stupid of me,” he said. -“I have not been very well lately and I -guess the walk from the station was longer -than I thought.”</p> - -<p>“You walked from the depot!” exclaimed -Miss India, in horror. “It’s no -wonder then, sir. Why, it’s a mile and a -quarter if it’s a step! I never heard of -anything so—so——!”</p> - -<p>Miss India broke off and turned to the -elderly negro, who had arrived hurriedly -on the scene.</p> - -<p>“Uncle Ran, carry Mr. Winthrop up to -the West Chamber and help him to retire.”</p> - -<p>“My dear lady,” Winthrop protested.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -“I am quite able to walk. Besides, I have -no intention of burdening you with——”</p> - -<p>“Uncle Ran!”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m.”</p> - -<p>“You heard what I said?”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m.”</p> - -<p>Uncle Randall stooped over the chair.</p> - -<p>“Jes’ you put yo’ ahms roun’ my neck, -sir, an’ I’ll tote you mighty cahful an’ -comfable, sir.”</p> - -<p>“But, really, I’d rather walk,” protested -Winthrop. “And with your permission, -Miss—Miss Wayne, I’ll return to the village -until——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p> - -<p>“Uncle Ran!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Miss Indy, ma’am, I heahs you. -Hol’ on tight, sir.”</p> - -<p>And in this ignoble fashion Winthrop -took possession of Waynewood.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p082"> - <img src="images/i_p082.jpg" alt="Uncle Ran carries Mr. Winthrop" title="Uncle Ran carries Mr. Winthrop"> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="V">V.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>True to his promise, Uncle Ran bore -Winthrop “careful and comfortable” up -the wide stairs, around the turn and along -the upper hall to the West Chamber, lowering -him at last, as tenderly as a basket of -eggs, into a chair. In spite of his boasts, -Winthrop was in no condition to have -walked up-stairs unaided. The fainting -spell, the first one since he had left the -sanitarium, had left him feeling limp and -shaky. He was glad of the negro’s assistance -and content to have him remove his -shoes and help him off with his coat, the -while he examined his quarters with lazy -interest.</p> - -<p>The room was very large, square, high-ceilinged. -The walls were white and guiltless -of both paper and pictures. Four -large windows would have flooded the room -with light had not the shades been carefully<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -drawn to within two feet of the sills. -As it was, from the windows overlooking -the garden and opening onto the gallery -the afternoon sunlight slanted in, throwing -long parallelograms of mellow gold -across the worn and faded carpet. The -bed was a massive affair of black walnut, -the three chairs were old and comfortable, -and the big mahogany-veneer table in the -centre of the room was large enough to -have served for a banquet. On it was a -lamp, a plate of oranges whose fragrance -was pleasantly perceptible, and a copy of -Pilgrim’s Progress bound in the “keepsake” -fashion of fifty years ago. The fire-place -and hearth were of soft red bricks -and a couple of oak logs were flaring -brightly. A formidable wardrobe, bedecked -with carved branches of grapes, -matched the bed, as did a washstand backed -by a white “splasher” bearing a design of -cat-tails in red outline. The room seemed -depressingly bare at first, but for all of -that there was an air of large hospitality -and plain comfort about it that was somewhat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -of a relief after the over-furnished, -over-decorated apartments with which -Winthrop was familiar.</p> - -<p>As his baggage had not come Miss India’s -command could not be literally -obeyed, and Uncle Ran had perforce to be -satisfied with the removal of Winthrop’s -outer apparel and his installation on the -bed instead of in it.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get yo’ trunk an’ valise right away, -sir,” he said, “before they close the depot. -Is there anything else I can do for you, -Mr. Winthrop? Can I fetch you a lil’ -glass of sherry, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, thanks. Yes, though, you -might open some of those windows before -you go. And look in my vest pocket and -toss me a cigarette case you’ll find there. -I saw matches on the mantel, didn’t I? -Thanks. That’s all. My compliments to -Miss Wayne, and tell her I am feeling -much better and that I will be down to -dinner—that is, supper.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you pay no ’tention to the bell,” -said Uncle Ran, soothingly. “Phœbe’ll<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -fetch yo’ supper up to you, sir. I’ll jes’ -go ’long now and get yo’ trunk.”</p> - -<p>Uncle Ran closed the door softly behind -him and Winthrop was left alone. He -pulled the spread over himself, gave a sigh -of content, and lighted a cigarette with -fingers that still trembled. Then, placing -his hands beneath his head, he watched the -smoke curl away toward the cracked and -flaking ceiling and gave himself up to his -thoughts.</p> - -<p>What an ass he had made of himself! -And what a trump the little lady had been! -He smiled as he recalled the manner in -which she had bossed him around. But -who the deuce was she? And who was the -young girl with the big brown eyes? What -were they doing here at Waynewood, in his -house? He wished he had not taken things -for granted as he had, wished he had made -inquiries before launching himself southward. -He must get hold of that Major Cass -and learn his bearings. Perhaps, after all, -there was some mistake and the place -didn’t belong to him at all! If that was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -the case he had made a pretty fool of himself -by walking in and fainting on the front -porch in that casual manner! But he -hoped mightily that there was no mistake, -for he had fallen in love at first sight with -the place. If it was his he would fix it up. -Then he sighed as he recollected that until -he got firmly on his feet again such a thing -was quite out of the question.</p> - -<p>The cigarette had burned itself down -and he tossed it onto the hearth. The light -was fading in the room. Through the open -windows, borne on the soft evening air, -came the faint tinkling of distant cow-bells. -For the rest the silence held profoundly -save for the gentle singing of the fire. -Winthrop turned on to his side, pillowed -his head in his hand and dropped to sleep. -So soundly he slept that when Uncle Ran -tiptoed in with his trunk and bag he never -stirred. The old negro nodded approvingly -from the foot of the bed, unstrapped -the trunk, laid a fresh log on the fire, and -tiptoed out again. When Winthrop finally -awoke he found a neat colored girl lighting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -the lamp, while beside it on the table a -well-filled tray was laid.</p> - -<p>“I fetched your supper, Mr. Winthrop,” -said Phœbe.</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p089"> - <img src="images/i_p089.jpg" alt="Phœbe" title="Phœbe"> -</div> - -<p>“Thank you, but I really meant to go -down. I—I think I fell asleep.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Miss Indy say good-night, -and she hopes you’ll sleep comfable, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Much obliged,” muttered Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be back after awhile to fetch away -the tray, sir.”</p> - -<p>“All right.”</p> - -<p>When he was once more alone he arose -and laughed softly.</p> - -<p>“Confound the woman! She’s a regular -tyrant. I wonder if she’ll let me get up -to-morrow. Oh, well, maybe she’s right. -I don’t feel much like making conversation. -Hello! there’s my trunk; I must have -slept soundly, and that’s a fact!”</p> - -<p>Unlocking the trunk, he rummaged -through it until he found his dressing-gown -and slippers. With those on he -drew a chair to the table and began his -supper.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span></p> - -<p>“Nice diet for an invalid,” he thought, -amusedly, as he uncovered the hot biscuits.</p> - -<p>But he didn’t object to them, for he -found himself very hungry; spread with -the white, crumbly unsalted butter which -the repast provided he found them extremely -satisfactory. There was cold -chicken, besides, and egg soufflé, fig preserve -and marble cake, and a glass of milk. -Winthrop’s gaze lingered on the milk.</p> - -<p>“No coffee, eh?” he muttered. “Not -suitable for invalids, I suppose; milk much -better.”</p> - -<p>But when he had finished his meal the -glass of milk still remained untouched and -he observed it thoughtfully. “I fancy Miss -Wayne will see this tray when it goes down -and she’ll feel hurt because I haven’t -drunk that infernal stuff.” His gaze wandered -around the room until it encountered -the washstand. “Ah!” he said, as -he arose. When he returned to the table -the glass was quite empty. Digging his -pipe and pouch from his bag he filled the -former and was soon puffing enjoyably,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -leaning back in the easy-chair and watching -the smouldering fire.</p> - -<p>“Even if I have to get out of here,” he -reflected, “I dare say there’s a hotel or -boarding-house in the village where I could -put up. I’m not going back North yet -awhile, and that’s certain. But if there’s -anything wrong with my title to Waynewood -why shouldn’t they let me stay here -now that I’m established? That’s a good -idea, by Jove! I’ll get my trunk unpacked -right away; possession is nine points, they -say. I dare say these folks aren’t so well -off but what they’d be willing to take a -respectable gentleman to board.”</p> - -<p>A fluttering at his heart warned him and -he laid aside his half-smoked pipe regretfully -and began to unpack his trunk and -bag. In the midst of the task Phœbe appeared -to rearrange his bed and bear away -the tray, bidding him good-night in her -soft voice as she went.</p> - -<p>By half-past seven his things were in -place and, taking up one of the books -which he had brought with him, he settled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> -himself to read. But voices in the hall below -distracted his attention, and presently -footsteps sounded on the stairway, there -was a tap at his door and Phœbe appeared -again.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, sir,” said Phœbe, “but Major -Cass say can he see you——”</p> - -<p>“Phœbe!” called the Major from below.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> - -<p>“You tell Mr. Winthrop that if he’s feeling -too tired to see me to-night I’ll call -again to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.” Phœbe turned to Winthrop. -“The Major say——”</p> - -<p>“All right. Ask the Major to come up,” -interrupted Winthrop, tossing aside his -book and exchanging dressing-gown for -coat and waistcoat. A moment later the -Major’s halting tread sounded outside the -open door and Winthrop went forward to -meet him.</p> - -<p>“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, -Mr. Winthrop,” said the Major, as -they shook hands.</p> - -<p>“Glad to know you, Major,” replied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -Winthrop. “Come in, please; try the arm-chair.”</p> - -<p>The Major bowed his thanks, laid his -cane across the table and accepted the -chair which Winthrop pushed forward. -Winthrop drew a second chair to the other -side of the fire-place.</p> - -<p>“A fire, Mr. Winthrop,” observed the -Major, “is very acceptable these cool evenings.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I haven’t felt the need of it myself,” -replied Winthrop, “but it was here -and it seemed a shame to waste it. I’ll -close the windows if you like.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, not at all; I like fresh air. -I couldn’t have too much of it, sir, if it -wasn’t for this confounded rheumatism of -mine. With your permission, sir.” The -Major leaned forward and laid a fresh log -on the fire. Winthrop arose and quietly -closed the windows.</p> - -<p>“Do you smoke, Major? I have some -cigars here somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir, if they’re right -handy.” He accepted one, held it to his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -nose and inhaled the aroma, smiled approvingly -and tucked it into a corner of his -mouth. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t light -it,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” replied Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“I never learned to smoke, Mr. Winthrop,” -explained the Major, “and I -reckon I’m too old to begin now. But -when I was a boy, and afterwards, during -the war, I got a lot of comfort out of chewing, -sir. But it’s a dirty habit, sir, and I -had to give it up. The only way I use tobacco -now, sir, is in this way. It’s a compromise, -sir.” And he rolled the cigar -around enjoyably.</p> - -<p>“I see,” replied Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“I trust you are feeling recovered from -the effects of your arduous journey?” inquired -the Major.</p> - -<p>“Quite, thank you. I dare say Miss -Wayne told you what an ass I made of -myself when I arrived?”</p> - -<p>“You refer to your—ah—momentary indisposition? -Yes, Miss India informed -me, and I was very pleased to learn of it.”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -Winthrop stared in surprise. “You are -feeling better now, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; quite fit, thank you.”</p> - -<p>“I’m very glad to hear it. I must apologize -for not being at the station to welcome -you, sir, but I gathered from your letter -that you would not reach Corunna before -to-morrow, and I thought that perhaps you -would telegraph me again. I was obliged -to drive into the country this afternoon -on business, and only learned of your visit -to my office when I returned. I then took -the liberty of calling at the earliest moment.”</p> - -<p>“And I’m very glad you did,” answered -Winthrop, heartily. “There’s a good deal -I want to talk to you about.”</p> - -<p>“I am quite at your service, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, Major. Now, in the first place, -where am I?”</p> - -<p>“Your pardon, Mr. Winthrop?” asked -the Major, startledly.</p> - -<p>“I mean,” answered the other, with a -smile, “is this Waynewood and does it belong -to me?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span></p> - -<p>“This is certainly Waynewood, sir, and -I have gathered from your letter that you -had come into possession of it.”</p> - -<p>“All right. Then who, if I may ask the -question without seeming impertinent, who -are the ladies down-stairs?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Mr. Winthrop, I understand your -question now,” returned the Major. “Allow -me to explain. I would have done so -before had there been opportunity, but -your letter said that you were leaving New -York at once and I presumed that there -would be no time for an answer to reach -you.”</p> - -<p>“Quite right, Major.”</p> - -<p>“The ladies are Miss India Wayne and -her niece, Miss Holly Wayne, sister and -daughter respectively of my very dear and -much lamented friend Captain Lamar -Wayne, whose home this was for many -years. At his death I found myself the -executor of his will, sir. He left this estate -and very little else but debts. I did the -best I could, Mr. Winthrop, but Waynewood -had to go. It was sold to a Judge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -Linderman of Georgia, a very estimable -gentleman and a shining light of the State -Bar. As he had no intention of living here -I made an arrangement with him whereby -Miss India and her niece might remain -here in their home, sir, paying a—a nominal -rent for the place.”</p> - -<p>“A very convenient arrangement, Major.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad to hear you say so,” replied -the Major, almost eagerly. “Judge Linderman, -however, was a consarned fool, -sir, and couldn’t let speculation alone. He -was caught in a cotton panic and absolutely -ruined. Waynewood then passed to your -late partner, Mr. Potter. The arrangement -in force before was extended with his -consent, and the ladies have continued to -reside here. They are paying”—(the Major -paused and spat voluminously into the -fire)—“they are paying, Mr. Winthrop, -the sum of five dollars a month rent.”</p> - -<p>“A fair figure, I presume, as rents go -hereabouts,” observed Winthrop, subduing -a smile.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span></p> - -<p>The Major cleared his throat. Then he -leaned across and laid a large hand on -Winthrop’s knee.</p> - -<p>“A small price, Mr. Winthrop, and -that’s the truth. And I don’t deny that -after the property fell into Mr. Potter’s -hands I was troubled right smart by my -conscience. As long as it was Judge Linderman -it was all right; he was a Southerner, -one of us, and could understand. -No offense intended, Mr. Winthrop. But -afterwards when I wrote Mr. Potter of the -arrangement in force and—ah—suggested -its continuance, I felt that maybe I was -taking advantage of his absence from the -scene. To be sure the amount was all that -the ladies could afford to pay, and it isn’t -likely that Mr. Potter could have found -more satisfactory tenants. Still, I dare -say it was my place to tell him that the -figure was pretty cheap, and let him try -and do better with the property. I reckon -I allowed my interest in my clients to sway -my judgment, Mr. Winthrop. But I made -up my mind when I got your letter and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -learned you were coming here that I’d explain -things to you, sir, and let you do as -you thought best.”</p> - -<p>“In regard to——?”</p> - -<p>“In regard to re-renting, sir.”</p> - -<p>“But I had intended occupying the house -myself, Major.”</p> - -<p>“So I gathered, sir, so I gathered. But -of course you couldn’t know what the circumstances -were, Mr. Winthrop. It isn’t as -though the place was family property, sir, -with you; not as though it was your birthplace -and home. It’s just a house and a few -acres of ground to you, sir; it has no—ah—sentimental -value. You follow me, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and you are beginning to make -me feel like an interloper, Major Cass.”</p> - -<p>“God forbid, sir! I had no such intention, -I assure you, sir. I am sure no one -could be more welcome at any time to -Waynewood, and I trust, sir, that we shall -often have the pleasure of seeing you here, -sir.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop’s laugh held a touch of exasperation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span></p> - -<p>“But, Great Scott! Major, you’re proposing -to turn me out of my own house!”</p> - -<p>“Bless your soul, sir, don’t say that! -Dear, dear! Does it sound that way to -you? My apologies, Mr. Winthrop! I -won’t say another word, sir!”</p> - -<p>The Major rolled the cigar agitatedly -about in the corner of his loose mouth.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” said Winthrop, “let’s understand -each other, Major. I have come -into possession of this property and we’ll -allow for the sake of the argument that it -holds no sentimental value for me. Now -what do you propose I should do? Sign a -new rental and pack up my things and go -home again?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the kind, sir, I assure you! -What I meant to convey was that as you -were intending to stay here in Corunna -only two or three months, you could perhaps -be quite as comfortable in the Palmetto -House as at Waynewood. The Palmetto -House, sir, is a very well-managed -hotel, sir, and you would receive the most -hospitable treatment.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span></p> - -<p>“Thanks for your frankness, Major. -This Palmetto House is in the village?”</p> - -<p>“It is, sir. It faces the court-house on -the south.”</p> - -<p>“And it has a large garden in front -of it, with trees and vines and roses -and a marble Cupid dancing in a bed of -box?”</p> - -<p>The Major shook his head regretfully.</p> - -<p>“Well, Major, the place I’ve taken a -fancy to boasts of just those attractions. -Don’t you think that perhaps we could -somehow arrange it so that I could stay -there?”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean, sir, that you would be -willing to remain here as—as a paying -guest?” asked the Major, eagerly.</p> - -<p>Winthrop shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Why not? If the ladies are agreeable. -At first sight there may be something a -trifle anomalous in the idea of the owner -of a property who has journeyed several -hundred miles to occupy it petitioning for -the privilege of being allowed to remain as -a boarder, but, of course, I have the limitations<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> -of the Northerner and doubtless fail -to get the correct point of view.”</p> - -<p>But Winthrop’s irony was quite lost on -the Major.</p> - -<p>“My dear sir, you have taken a great -load from my mind,” exclaimed the latter. -“I had hoped that the difficulty might be -surmounted in just the way you propose, -but somehow I gathered after meeting you -that you—ah—resented the presence of the -ladies.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” said Winthrop, a trifle impatiently. -“Miss Wayne and her niece are -quite welcome to remain here as long as -they like. I was, however, naturally surprised -to find anyone in possession. By -all means let us renew the rental agreement. -Meanwhile, if the ladies are agreeable, -I will remain here and pay board and -room-rent. I dare say my visit will not -cover more than three months. And I will -try to be as little trouble as possible.”</p> - -<p>“Then the matter is settled,” answered -the Major, with a gratified smile. “Unless——” -He paused.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span></p> - -<p>“More difficulties?” asked Winthrop, -patiently.</p> - -<p>“I hope not, sir, but I won’t deny that -Miss India may spoil our plans.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p104"> - <img src="images/i_p104.jpg" alt="Miss India Wayne" title="Miss India Wayne"> -</div> - -<p>“You mean that she may not want to -take a boarder?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s this way, Mr. Winthrop.” -The Major cleared his throat. “Miss -Wayne has always been prejudiced against -Northerners, but——”</p> - -<p>“Really? But she seemed kindness itself -this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“I’m delighted to hear it, sir, delighted! -And allow me to say, Mr. Winthrop, sir, -that you couldn’t have played a stronger -card than you did.”</p> - -<p>“Card? What do you mean, Major?”</p> - -<p>“I mean that in losing consciousness as -you did, sir, you accomplished more than I -could have accomplished in an hour’s argument. -It was very well done, sir, for I assure -you that it was only by representing -you as an invalid that I was able to prevail -on Miss India to remain here, sir, until -your arrival. When I found that I had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> -missed you at the office I feared that you -would perhaps unwittingly give the impression -of being a—a well man, sir, and -thus prejudice the lady against you. But -as it happened, sir, you played just the -card calculated to win the trick.”</p> - -<p>“But, Great Scott!” exclaimed Winthrop, -exasperatedly; “you don’t think for -a moment, do you, that I deliberately simulated<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -illness in order to work on her sympathies?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not,” said the Major, earnestly. -“How could you have known? No, -no; I merely congratulated you on the fortunate—ah—coincidence, -sir.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! Then I am to understand that as -a well man Miss Wayne will refuse to harbor -me, but as an invalid she will consent -to do so—for a consideration?”</p> - -<p>“Exactly, Mr. Winthrop; that is just -how it stands, sir.”</p> - -<p>“And having once been accepted will it -be necessary for me to continue to pose as -an invalid for the rest of my stay?” he -asked dryly.</p> - -<p>“We-ell,” answered the Major, hesitatingly, -“I don’t deny that it would help, -but I don’t reckon it’ll be absolutely necessary, -sir.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop smiled.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad to hear it, for I’m rather tired -of being an invalid, and I don’t think I -should enjoy even making believe for very -long. May I ask whether Miss Wayne’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -dislike for persons from my section of the -country is ineradicable, Major?”</p> - -<p>“I sincerely hope not, sir!” replied the -Major, earnestly. “Her brother’s views -on the subject were very—ah—settled, sir, -and Miss India had the highest respect for -his opinions. But she has never had the -fortune, I believe, to meet with a real -Northern gentleman, Mr. Winthrop.” -And the Major bowed courteously.</p> - -<p>“And the niece? Miss——?”</p> - -<p>“Holly, sir. Well, she is guided largely -by her Aunt, Mr. Winthrop, and doubtless -clings to many of her father’s convictions, -but she has a well-developed sense of justice -and a warm heart, sir, and I believe -her prejudices can be dispelled.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I appear to be in the enemy’s -country, with a vengeance,” said Winthrop. -“How about you, Major? Are you -also down on us?”</p> - -<p>“No, Mr. Winthrop. I don’t deny, sir, -that shortly after the war I felt resentment, -but that sentiment has long since -disappeared. I am honored with the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -friendship of several very estimable Northern -gentlemen, sir. Nor must you think -the sentiment hereabouts prejudicial to -your people, Mr. Winthrop. Corunna -is off the track of the tourist, to be sure; -we have no special attractions here; no big -hotels, sir, to cater to him; but once in a -while a Northerner wanders to our town -and we have grown to appreciate his many -very excellent qualities, sir.”</p> - -<p>“That’s comforting. I had begun to feel -like a pariah.”</p> - -<p>“My dear sir!” expostulated the Major. -“Disabuse your mind of such wrong ideas, -Mr. Winthrop. I shall take pleasure in -convincing you that any ill-feeling engendered -by the late unpleasantness has quite -passed away. I shall esteem it a great -privilege to be allowed to introduce you to -some of our more prominent citizens, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you very much,” answered Winthrop. -“The privilege will be mine, Major. -Must you go?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we mustn’t forget that you are not -yet as strong as we hope to have you after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -you have been under the treatment of our -climate for awhile, sir. Good-night, Mr. -Winthrop. I have enjoyed our little talk, -and it has been a pleasure to meet a gentleman -of your attainments, sir.”</p> - -<p>“You are very good,” Winthrop replied. -“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Major. -And may I leave the negotiations in -your hands?”</p> - -<p>“You may, sir. I hope to be able to inform -you to-morrow that our plan is successful.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. And in regard to the price to be -paid, Major; I’ll leave that entirely with -you as I haven’t any idea what is right.”</p> - -<p>“You may do so, sir. And possibly -some day at your convenience you will -drop in at my office and we will attend to -the matter of the new lease?”</p> - -<p>“With pleasure, Major. Good-night, -sir.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop remained at the door until the -Major had reached the lower hall. Then -he closed it and, hands in his pockets, returned -to the fire-place and stared frowningly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> -into the coals. Mechanically he -reached his pipe from the mantel and -lighted it with an ember. And presently, -as he smoked, the frown disappeared and -he laughed softly.</p> - -<p>“Of all the ridiculous situations!” he -muttered.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Holly came softly down the stairs, one -small hand laid upon the broad mahogany -rail to steady her descent, her little slippered -feet twinkling in and out from beneath -the hem of her gingham skirt, her -lithe young body swaying in unconscious -rhythm with the song she was singing under -her breath. It was not yet seven -o’clock, and no one save the servants was -astir. Holly had always been an early -riser, and when the weather permitted the -hour before breakfast was spent by her in -the open air. On warm mornings she kept -to the grateful shade of the porch, perching -herself on the joggling-board and gently -jouncing herself up and down the while she -stared thoughtfully out across the garden -into the cool green gloom of the grove, an -exercise undoubtedly beneficial to the liver -but one which would have resulted with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -most persons in a total disinclination for -breakfast. On those terribly cold winter -mornings when the water-pail on the back -porch showed a film of ice, she slipped -down the oleander -path and out -on to the road -for a brisk walk -or huddled herself -in a sun-warmed -corner -at the back of the house. But this morning, -which held neither the heat of summer -nor the tang of frost, when, after unlatching -the front door and swinging it creakingly -open, she emerged on to the porch, -she stood for a moment in the deep shadow -of it, gazing happily down upon the -pleasant scene before her.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p111"> - <img src="images/i_p111.jpg" alt="Waynewood" title="Waynewood"> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span></p> - -<p>Directly in front of her spread the fragrant -quadrangle of the garden, the paths, -edged with crumbling bricks set cantwise -in the dark soil, curving and angling between -the beds in formal precision. In -the centre, out of a tangle of rose-bushes -and box, the garlanded Cupid, tinged to -pale gold by the early sunlight, smiled -across at her. About him clustered tender -blooms of old-fashioned roses, and the path -was sprinkled with the fallen petals. Beyond, -the long tunnel between the oleanders -was still filled with the lingering shadows -of dawn. To right and left of the centre -bed lay miniature jungles of overgrown -shrubs; roses, deutzias, cape jasmines, -Japan quinces, sweet shrubs and all the -luxuriant hodge-podge of a Southern garden -somewhat run to seed, a little down at -the heels maybe, but radiantly beautiful -in its very disorder.</p> - -<div class="figleft" id="i_p114a"> - <img src="images/i_p114a.jpg" alt="flowers" title="flowers"> -</div> - -<p>On the far side, the garden was bordered -with taller shrubs—crépe-myrtles, mimosas, -camelias, which merged imperceptibly -into the trees of the grove. To the right,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -beyond the bordering path, a few pear-trees -showed their naked branches and a -tall frankincense tree threw delicate shadow-tracery -over the corner bed. To the -left were Japan plums and pomegranates -and figs, half hiding the picket fence, and -a few youthful orange-trees, descendants -of sturdy ancestors who had lost their lives -in the freeze three years before. A huge -magnolia spread its shapely branches over -one of the beds, its trunk encircled by a -tempting seat. Ribbon-grass swayed gently -here and there above the rioting shrubbery, -and at the corner of the porch, where -a gate gave on to the drive, a clump of banana-trees, -which had almost but not quite -borne fruit that year, reared their succulent -green stems in a sunny nook and -arched their great broad leaves, torn and -ribboned by the winds, with tropical effect. -Near at hand, against the warm red -chimney, climbed a Baltimore Belle, festooning -the end of the house for yards -with its tiny, glossy leaves. The shadow -of the house cut the garden sharply into<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -two triangles, the dividing line between -sunlight and shade crossing the pedestal -of the smiling Cupid. Everywhere glistened -diamonds of dew, and over all, growing -more intense each instant as the sunlight -and warmth grew in ardor, was the -thrilling fragrance of the roses and the -box, of damp earth and awakening leaves.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p114b"> - <img src="images/i_p114b.jpg" alt="more flowers" title="more flowers"> -</div> - -<p>While Holly’s mother had lived the garden -had been her pride and delight. It had -been known to fame all through that part -of the State and the beauty of the Wayne -roses was a proverb. But now the care -of it fell to Uncle Ran, together with the -care of a bewildering number of other -things, and Uncle Ran had neither the time -nor the knowledge to maintain its former -perfection. Holly loved it devotedly, knew -it from corner to corner. At an earlier -age she had plucked the blossoms for dolls -and played with them for long hours on -the seat under the magnolia. The full-blown -roses were grown-up ladies, with -beautiful outspread skirts of pink, white -or yellow, and little green waists. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -half-opened roses were young ladies, and -tiny white violets, or waxen orange-blooms -or little blossoms of the deutzia were the -babies. For the men, although Holly seldom -bothered much with men, there were -the jonquils or the oleanders. She knew -well where the first blue violets were to be -found, where the white jonquils broke first -from their green calyces, where the little -yellow balls of the opopanax were sweetest, -what rose-petals were best adapted to -being formed into tiny sacs and exploded -against the forehead, and many other wonderful -secrets of that fair domain. But -in spite of all this, Holly was no gardener.</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p115"> - <img src="images/i_p115.jpg" alt="still more flowers" title="still more flowers"> -</div> - -<p>She loved flowers just as she loved the -deep blue Florida sky with its hazy edges, -the soft wind from the Gulf, the golden -sunlight, the birds and bees and butterflies—just -as she loved everything that -was quickened with the wonderful breath -of Nature. There was something of the -pagan in Holly when it came to devotion -to Nature. And yet she had no ability to -make things grow. From her mother she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -had inherited the love of trees and plants -and flowers but not the gift of understanding -them. Doubtless the Druids, with all -their veneration for the -oak and mistletoe, -would have been sorely -puzzled had they had to -rear their leafy temples -from planted acorns.</p> - -<div class="figleft" id="i_p116"> - <img src="images/i_p116.jpg" alt="Holly with pink roses" title="Holly with pink roses"> -</div> - -<p>Holly went down the -steps and, holding her -gown away from the -moisture-beaded -branches, buried her -face in a cluster of pink -roses. Then, struck by -a thought, she returned -to the house, reappearing -a moment later with -her hands encased in a pair of old gloves, -and carrying scissors.</p> - -<p>Aunt India didn’t believe in bringing -flowers into the house. “If the Lord had -intended us to have them on the tables and -mantels,” she said, “He’d have put them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -there. But He didn’t; He meant them to -be out of doors and we ought to be satisfied -to admire them where He’s put them.” -Usually Holly respected -her Aunt’s prejudice, but -to-day seemed in a way a -special occasion. The -Cloth of Gold roses -seemed crying to be gathered, -and their stems -snipped gratefully under -the scissors as she made -her way along the edge of -the bed. Her hands were -almost full of the big yellow -blooms when footsteps -sounded on the -porch and she glanced up -to see Winthrop descending the steps. -She wondered with sudden dismay whether -she was going to blush as she had yesterday, -and, for fear that she was, leaned far -over the refractory cluster she was cutting. -Winthrop’s footsteps approached along -the sandy walk, and—</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p117"> - <img src="images/i_p117.jpg" alt="Mr. Winthrop" title="Mr. Winthrop"> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span></p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Miss Holly,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning,” answered Holly, and, -having won her prize started to straighten -up. “I hope——”</p> - -<p>But instead of finishing the polite inquiry -she said “<em>Oh!</em>” A branch of the -rose-bush had caught in her hair, and the -more she tugged the more firmly it held.</p> - -<p>“Still a moment,” said Winthrop. He -leaned over and disentangled the thorns. -“There you are. I hope I didn’t pull very -hard?”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” murmured Holly, raising -a very red face. Winthrop, looking down -into it, smiled; smiled for no particular -reason, save that the morning air was very -delightful, the morning sunlight very warm -and cheering, and the face before him very -lovely to look at. But Holly, painfully -aware of her burning cheeks, thought he -was smiling at her blushes. “What a silly -he must think me!” she reflected, angrily. -“Blushing every time he comes near!” -She busied herself with the roses for a moment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span></p> - -<p>“You’ve got more than you can manage, -haven’t you?” asked Winthrop. “Suppose -you entrust them to me; then you’ll -have your hands free.”</p> - -<p>“I can manage very nicely, thank you,” -answered Holly, a trifle haughtily.</p> - -<p>Winthrop’s smile deepened.</p> - -<p>“Do you know what I think, Miss -Holly?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Holly, looking about her in a -very preoccupied way in search of more -blossoms.</p> - -<p>“I think you’re a little bit resentful because -I’ve come to share your Eden. I believe -you were playing that you were Eve -and that you were all alone here except -for the serpent.”</p> - -<p>“Playing!” said Holly, warmly. -“Please, how old do you think I am, Mr. -Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“My dear young lady,” answered Winthrop, -gravely, “I wouldn’t think of even -speculating on so serious a subject. But -supposing you are very, very old, say seventeen—or -even eighteen!—still you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -haven’t, I hope, got beyond the age of -make-believe. Why, even I—and, as you -will readily see, I have one foot almost in -the grave—even I sometimes make-believe.”</p> - -<p>“Do you?” murmured Holly, very -coldly.</p> - -<p>There was silence for a moment during -which Holly added further prizes to her -store and Winthrop followed her and -watched her in mingled admiration and -amusement—admiration for the grace and -beauty and sheer youth of her, amusement -at her evident resentment.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” he said presently, slowly -and thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“At what?” Holly allowed herself a -fleeting look at his face. It was very serious -and regretful, but the smile still lurked -in the dark eyes, and Holly’s vanity flew -to arms again.</p> - -<p>“Sorry that I’ve said something to displease -you,” returned Winthrop. “You -see, I was hoping to make friends with you, -Miss Holly.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p> - -<p>Holly thought of a dozen questions to -ask, but heroically refrained.</p> - -<p>“I gathered from Major Cass last evening,” -continued Winthrop, “that Northerners -are not popular at Waynewood. -But you seemed a very kind young lady, -and I thought that if I could only win you -over to my side you might intercede for -me with your aunt. You see, I’d like very -much to stay here, but I’m afraid Miss -Wayne isn’t going to take to the idea. And -now I’ve gone and antagonized the very -person I meant to win for an ally.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why you can’t stay here if -you want to,” answered Holly. “Waynewood -belongs to you.”</p> - -<p>“But what would I do here all alone?” -asked Winthrop. “I’m a frightfully helpless, -ignorant chap. Why, I don’t even -know how to cook a beefsteak! And as -for beaten biscuit——!”</p> - -<p>Holly smiled, in spite of herself.</p> - -<p>“But you could hire some servants, I -reckon.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shouldn’t know how to manage<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -them, really. No, the only way in which -I can remain here is as your guest, Miss -Holly. I’ve asked Major Cass to tell Miss -Wayne that, and I’ve no doubt but what he -will do all he can for me, but I fancy that -a word from you would help a lot, Miss -Holly. Don’t you think you could tell your -aunt that I am a very respectable sort of a -fellow, one who has never been known to -give any trouble? I have been with some -of the best families and I can give references -from my last place, if necessary.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon you don’t know Aunt India,” -laughed Holly. “If she says you can’t -stay, you can’t, and it wouldn’t do a mite -of good if I talked myself black in the -face.”</p> - -<p>Holly turned toward the house and he -followed.</p> - -<p>“You think, then,” he asked, “that -there’s nothing more we can do to influence -Fate in my behalf?”</p> - -<div class="figleft" id="i_p124"> - <img src="images/i_p124.jpg" alt="Holly" title="Holly"> -</div> - -<p>Holly ran lightly up the steps, tossed the -flowers in a heap on the porch, and sat -down with her back against a pillar. Then<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> -she pointed to the opposite side of the -steps.</p> - -<p>“Sit down there,” she commanded.</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p125"> - <img src="images/i_p125.jpg" alt="Robert" title="Robert"> -</div> - -<p>Winthrop bowed and obeyed. Holly -clasped her hands about her knees, and -looked across at him with merry eyes.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Winthrop.”</p> - -<p>“Madam?”</p> - -<p>“What will you give me if I let you -stay?”</p> - -<p>“Pardon my incredulity,” replied Winthrop, -“but is your permission all that is -necessary?”</p> - -<p>Holly nodded her head many times.</p> - -<p>“If I say you can stay, you can,” she -said, decisively.</p> - -<p>“Then in exchange for your permission -I will give you half my kingdom,” answered -Winthrop, gravely.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t think I could use half a -kingdom. It would be like owning half a -horse, wouldn’t it? Supposing I wanted -my half to go and the other half -wouldn’t?”</p> - -<p>“Then take it all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span></p> - -<p>“No, because I reckon your kingdom’s -up North, and I wouldn’t want a kingdom -I couldn’t live in. It will have to be something -else, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“And I have so little with me,” -mourned Winthrop. “I dare say you -wouldn’t have any use for a winter overcoat -or a pair of patent-leather shoes? -They’re about all I have to offer.”</p> - -<p>“No,” laughed Holly; “anyhow, not the -overcoat. Do you think the shoes would -fit me?”</p> - -<p>She advanced one little slippered foot -from beyond the hem of her skirt. Winthrop -looked, and shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Honestly, I’m afraid not,” he said. -“I don’t believe I ever saw a shoe that -would fit you, Miss Holly.”</p> - -<p>Holly acknowledged the compliment -with a ceremonious bow and a little laugh.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know you Northerners could -pay compliments,” she said.</p> - -<p>“We are a very adaptable people,” answered -Winthrop, “and pride ourselves on -being able to face any situation.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span></p> - -<p>“But you haven’t told me what you’ll -give me, Mr. Winthrop.”</p> - -<p>“I have exhausted my treasures, Miss -Holly. There remains only myself. I -throw myself at your feet, my dear young -lady; I will be your slave for life.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I thought you Northerners didn’t -believe in slavery,” said Holly.</p> - -<p>“We don’t believe in compulsory slavery, -Miss Holly. To be a slave to Beauty -is always a pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“Another compliment!” cried Holly. -“Two before breakfast!”</p> - -<p>“And the day is still young,” laughed -Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I won’t demand any more, Mr. -Winthrop; you’ve done your duty already.”</p> - -<p>“As you like; I am your slave.”</p> - -<p>“How lovely! I never had a slave before,” -said Holly, reflectively.</p> - -<p>“I fear your memory is poor, Miss -Holly. I’ll wager you’ve had, and doubtless -still have, a score of them quite as -willing as I.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span></p> - -<p>Holly blushed a little, but shook her -head.</p> - -<p>“Not I. But it’s a bargain, Mr. Winthrop. -I won’t keep you for life, though; -when you leave here I’ll give you your -‘freedance,’ as the negroes say. But while -you are here you are to do just as I tell -you. Will you?” she added, sternly.</p> - -<p>“I obey implicitly,” answered Winthrop. -“And now?”</p> - -<p>“Why, you may stay, of course. Besides, -it was all arranged last evening. -Uncle Major and Auntie fixed it all up between -them after he came down from seeing -you. You are to have the room you -are in and the one back of it, if you want -it, and you are to pay three dollars and -a-half a week; one dollar for your room -and two dollars and a-half for your -board.”</p> - -<p>“But—isn’t that——?”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t!” begged Holly. “I -don’t know anything about it. If it’s too -much, you must speak to Aunt India or -Major Cass.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span></p> - -<p>“I was about to suggest that it seemed -ridiculously little,” said Winthrop. -“But——”</p> - -<p>“Gracious!” exclaimed Holly. “Uncle -Major thought it ought to be more, but -Auntie wouldn’t hear of it. Do you think -it should be?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m scarcely a disinterested -party,” laughed Winthrop, “but it doesn’t -sound much, does it?”</p> - -<p>“Three dollars and a-half!” said Holly, -slowly and thoughtfully. Then she nodded -her head vigorously. “Yes, it sounds a -whole lot.” She laughed softly. “It’s -very funny, though, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“What?” he asked, smiling in sympathy.</p> - -<p>“Why, that you should be paying three -dollars and a-half a week for the privilege -of being a slave!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, but that’s it,” answered Winthrop. -“It is a privilege, as you say.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” cried Holly, in simulated alarm. -“You’re at it again, Mr. Winthrop!”</p> - -<p>“At it? At what?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span></p> - -<p>“Compliments, compliments, sir! You’ll -have none left for this evening if you don’t -take care. Just think; you might meet a -beautiful young lady this evening and not -have any compliments for her! Wouldn’t -that be dreadful?”</p> - -<p>“Horrible,” answered Winthrop. “I -shudder.”</p> - -<p>“Are you hungry?” asked Holly, suddenly.</p> - -<p>“Hungry? No—yes—I hardly know.”</p> - -<p>“You’re probably starving, then,” said -Holly, jumping up and sweeping the roses -into her arms. “I’ll see if breakfast isn’t -nearly ready. Auntie doesn’t come down -to breakfast very often, and it’s my place -to see that it’s on time. But I never do, -and it never is. Do you love punctuality, -Mr. Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t bear it, Miss Holly.”</p> - -<p>She stood a little way off, smiling down -at him, a soft flush in her cheeks.</p> - -<p>“You always say just the right thing, -don’t you?” She laughed. “How do you -manage it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span></p> - -<p>“Long practice, my dear young lady. -When you’ve lived as long as I have you -will have discovered that it is much better -to say the right thing than the wrong—even -when the right thing isn’t altogether -right.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I reckon so, but—sometimes it’s -an awful temptation to say the wrong, isn’t -it? Are you awfully old? May I guess?”</p> - -<p>“I shall be flattered.”</p> - -<p>“Then—forty?”</p> - -<p>Winthrop sighed loudly.</p> - -<p>“Too much? Wait! Thirty—thirty-seven?”</p> - -<p>“Thirty-eight.”</p> - -<p>“Is that very old? I shall be eighteen -in a few days.”</p> - -<p>“Really? Then, you see, I have already -lived twice as long as you have.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Holly nodded, thoughtfully. -“Do you know, I don’t think I want to live -to be real, real old; I think I’d rather die -before—before that.”</p> - -<p>“And what do you call real, real old?” -asked Winthrop.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know; fifty, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“Then I have twelve years longer to -live,” said Winthrop, gravely.</p> - -<p>Holly turned a pair of startled eyes upon -him.</p> - -<p>“No, no! It’s different with you; you’re -a man.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that makes a difference?”</p> - -<p>“Lots! Men can do heaps of things, -great, big things, after they’re old, but a -woman——” She paused and shrugged -her shoulders in a funny, exaggerated -way that Winthrop thought charming. -“What is there for a woman when she’s -that old?”</p> - -<p>“Much,” answered Winthrop, gravely, -“if she has been a wise woman. There -should be her children to love and to love -her, and if she has married the right man -there will be that love, too, in the afternoon -of her life.”</p> - -<p>“Children,” murmured Holly. “Yes, -that would be nice; but they wouldn’t be -children then, would they? And—supposing -they died before? The woman would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -be terribly lonely, wouldn’t she—in the -afternoon?”</p> - -<p>Winthrop turned his face away and -looked out across the sunlit garden.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, very soberly; “yes, she -would be lonely.”</p> - -<p>Something in his tones drew Holly’s attention. -How deep the lines about his -mouth were this morning, and how gray -the hair was at his temples; she had not -noticed it before. Yes, after all, thirty-eight -was quite old. That thought or some -other moved her to a sudden sentiment of -pity. Impulsively she tore one of the big -yellow roses from the bunch and with her -free hand tossed it into his lap.</p> - -<p>“Do you know, Mr. Winthrop,” she said, -softly, “I reckon we’re going to be friends, -you and I,—that is, if you want to.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop sprang to his feet, the rose in -his hand.</p> - -<p>“I do want to, Miss Holly,” he said, -earnestly. Somehow, before she realized -it, Holly’s hand was in his. “I want it -very much. I haven’t very many friends,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> -I guess, and when one gets toward forty he -doesn’t find them as easily as he did. Is -it a bargain, then? We are to be friends, -very good friends, Miss Holly?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered Holly, simply, “very -good friends.”</p> - -<p>Her dark eyes looked seriously into his -for a moment. Then she withdrew her -hand, laughed softly under her breath and -turned toward the door. But on the threshold -she looked back over her shoulder, -the old mischief in her face.</p> - -<p>“But don’t you go and forget that -you’re my slave, Mr. Winthrop,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Never! You have fettered me with -roses.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII.</h2> -</div> - - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p133"> - <img src="images/i_p133.jpg" alt="Holly and Robert at breakfast" title="Holly and Robert at breakfast"> -</div> - -<p>Miss India made no exception that morning -to her general rule, and Holly presided -over the coffee cups. The table was rather -large, and although Winthrop’s place was -in the middle, facing the open door onto -the back porch, there was quite an expanse -of emptiness between him and his hostess. -Through the door and across the bridge to -the kitchen Phœbe trotted at minute intervals -to bring fresh relays of hot biscuits -and buckwheat cakes. The dining-room -was rather shabby. The walls were papered -in dark brown, and the floor was covered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -with linoleum. A mahogany sideboard, -which took up quite ten feet of one -end of the room, looked sadly out of its -element. Three pictures in tarnished gilt -frames hung by thick green cords very -close to the ceiling, so that Winthrop was -spared the necessity of close examination, -something which they did not invite. But -for all its shabbiness there was something -comfortable about the room, something -homey that made the old dishes with their -chipped edges and half-obliterated ornamentation -seem eminently suitable, and -that gave Winthrop a distinct sensation of -pleasure.</p> - -<p>He found that, in spite of his previous -uncertainty, he was very hungry, and, although -he had hard work to keep from -grimacing over the first taste of the coffee, -he ate heartily and enjoyed it all. And -while he ate, Holly talked. Sometimes he -slipped in a word of comment or a question, -but they were not necessary so far as -Holly was concerned. There was something -almost exciting for her in the situation.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> -To have an audience who was quite -fresh and sympathetic was an event in her -life, and there are so many, many things -one has to say at eighteen. And Winthrop -enjoyed it almost as much as Holly. Her -<em>naive</em> views of life amused even while they -touched him. She seemed very young for -her age, and very unsophisticated after -the Northern girls Winthrop knew. And -he found her voice and pronunciation -charming, besides. He loved the way she -made “I” sound like “Ah,” the way she -narrowed some vowels and broadened others, -her absolute contempt for the letter -“r.” The soft drawl of Southern speech -was new to him, and he found it fascinating. -Once Holly stopped abruptly in the -middle of a sentence, laid her left hand -palm downwards on the edge of the table -and struck her knuckles sharply with the -handle of her knife.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” inquired Winthrop, -in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Punishment,” answered Holly, gravely, -the chastised hand held against her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -lips. “You see there are three words that -Auntie doesn’t like me to use, and when -I do use them I rap my knuckles.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” smiled Winthrop, “and does it -help?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t reckon it’s helped much yet,” -said Holly, “but maybe it will. It sure -does hurt, though.”</p> - -<p>“And may I ask what the words are?”</p> - -<p>“One is ‘Fiddle.’ Does that sound very -bad to you?”</p> - -<p>“N-no, I think not. What does it signify, -please?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you just say ‘Fiddle’ when—when -something happens you don’t like.”</p> - -<p>“I see; ‘Fiddle;’ yes, quite expressive. -And the others?”</p> - -<p>“‘Shucks’ is one of them.”</p> - -<p>“Used, I fancy, in much the same sense -as ‘Fiddle’?”</p> - -<p>Holly nodded.</p> - -<p>“Only—only not so much so,” she -added.</p> - -<p>“Certainly not,” replied Winthrop. “I -understand. For instance, if you fell down<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -stairs you’d say ‘Fiddle!’ but if you -merely bumped your head you’d say -‘Shucks!’”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” laughed Holly.</p> - -<p>“And the third prohibited word?” asked -Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“That’s—that’s——” Holly bent her -head very meekly over her plate—“that’s -‘Darnation!’”</p> - -<p>“Expressive, at least,” laughed Winthrop. -“That is reserved, I suppose, for -such extraordinary occasions as when you -fall from a sixth-story window?”</p> - -<p>“No; I say that when I stick a needle -into my finger,” answered Holly. “It -seems to suit better than ‘Fiddle’ or -‘Shucks;’ don’t you think so, Mr. Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t remember ever having -stuck a needle into my finger, but I’ll try -it some time and give you my candid opinion -on the question.”</p> - -<p>After breakfast Winthrop wandered out -into the garden and from thence into the -grove beyond. There were pines and cedars<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -here, and oaks, and other trees which -he didn’t know the names of. The gray-green -Spanish moss draped an occasional -limb, and at times there was some underbrush. -Finding the drive, he followed it -toward the gate, but before reaching the -latter he struck off again through a clearing -and climbed a little knoll on the summit -of which a small brick-walled enclosure -guarded by three huge oaks attracted his -attention and aroused his curiosity. But -he didn’t open the little iron gate when -he reached it. Within the square enclosure -were three graves, two close together -near at hand, one somewhat removed. -From where he leaned across the crumbling -wall Winthrop could read the inscriptions -on the three simple headstones. -The farther grave was that of “John -Wayne, born Fairfield, Kentucky, Feb. 1, -1835; fell at Malvern Hill, July 1, 1862; interred -in this spot July 28, 1862.”</p> - -<p>The nearer of the two graves which lay -together was that, as Winthrop surmised, -of Holly’s mother. Behind the headstone<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> -a rose-bush had been planted, and this -morning one tiny bloom gleamed wanly in -the shadow of the wall. “To the Beloved -Memory of Margaret Britton, Wife of Lamar -Wayne; Sept. 3, 1853–Jan. 1, 1881. -Aged 27 years. ‘The balmy zephyrs, silent -since her death, Lament the ceasing of -a sweeter breath.’”</p> - -<p>Winthrop’s gaze turned to the stone beside -it.</p> - -<p>“Here lies,”—he read—“the Body of -Captain Lamar Wayne, C. S. A., who -was born in Fairfield, Kentucky, Aug, 4, -1842, and died at Waynewood, Sept. 21, -1892, aged 50 years. ‘Happier for me that -all our hours assign’d, Together we had -lived; ev’n not in death disjoined.’”</p> - -<p>Here, thought Winthrop, was hint of a -great love. He compared the dates. Captain -Wayne had lived twelve years after -his wife’s death. Winthrop wondered if -those years had seemed long to him. Probably -not, since he had Holly to care for—Holly, -whom Winthrop doubted not, was -very greatly like her mother. To have the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> -child spared to him! Ah, that was much. -Winthrop’s eyes lifted from the quiet -space before him and sought the distant -skyline as his thoughts went to another -grave many hundred miles away. A mocking-bird -flew into one of the oaks and sang -a few tentative notes, and then was silent. -Winthrop roused himself with a sigh and -turned back down the knoll toward the -house, which stood smiling amidst its -greenery a few hundred yards away.</p> - -<p>As he entered the hall he heard Holly -in converse with Aunt Venus on the back -porch, and as he glanced through the doorway -she moved into sight, her form silhouetted -against the sunlight glare. But he -gave her only a passing thought as he -mounted the stairs to his room. The spell -of the little graveyard on the knoll and of -that other more distant one was still with -him, and remained until, having got his -hat and cane, he passed through the open -gate and turned townward on the red clay -road.</p> - -<p>Major Cass was seated in his cushioned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> -arm-chair with his feet on his desk and a -sheepskin-covered book spread open on his -knees when Winthrop obeyed the invitation -to enter.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Mr. Winthrop, sir, good-morning,” -said the Major, as he tossed the book on to -the desk and climbed to his feet. “Your -rest has done you good, sir; I can see that. -Feeling more yourself to-day, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Quite well, thanks,” answered Winthrop, -accepting the arm-chair which his -host pushed toward him. “I thought I’d -come down and hear the verdict and attend -to the matter of the rental.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” said the Major. “Very kind -of you, sir.”</p> - -<p>He limped to a cupboard in one corner -and returned with a jug and two not overly -clean glasses, which he set on the desk, -brushing aside a litter of papers and books. -“You will join me, Mr. Winthrop, in a -little liquor, sir, I trust?”</p> - -<p>“A very little, then,” answered Winthrop. -“I’m still under doctor’s orders, -you know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span></p> - -<p>“As little as you like,” rejoined the Major, -courteously, “but we must drink to the -success of our conspiracy, sir. The matter -is all arranged. Miss India was—ah—surprisingly -complacent, sir.” The Major -handed the glass to Winthrop with a bow. -“Your very good health, sir!”</p> - -<p>During the subsequent talk, in which the -Major explained the terms of the bargain -as Winthrop had already learned them -from Holly, the visitor was able to look -about him. The room was small and -square save for the projecting fire-place -at one side. A window on the front overlooked -the street which led to Waynewood, -while through another on the side of the -building Winthrop could see the court-house<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -behind its border of oaks, the stores -across the square and, peering from behind -the court-house, the end of the Palmetto -House with its long gallery. It was -Saturday, and the town looked quite busy. -Ox-carts, farm wagons drawn by mules, -and broken-down buggies crawled or jogged -past the window on their way to the -hitching-place. In front of the court-house, -in the shade, were half-a-dozen carts -loaded with bales of cotton, and the owners -with samples in hand were making the -round of the buyers. The sidewalks were -thronged with negroes, and the gay medley -of the voices came through the open window.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p142"> - <img src="images/i_p142.jpg" alt="Corunna" title="Corunna"> -</div> - -<p>A set of shelves occupied the end of the -room beside the door and were filled to -overflowing with yellow law books. The -mantel was crowded with filing cases and -a few tin boxes. Beside the front window a -small, old-fashioned safe held more books. -Besides these there was only the plain -oak desk, two chairs and the aforementioned -cupboard to be seen, if one excepts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> -the wall decorations in the shape of colored -advertisements and calendars and a box -filled with sawdust beside the arm-chair. -The Major had tucked a greenish and very -damp cigar in the corner of his mouth, and -Winthrop soon discovered the necessity -for the box.</p> - -<p><a href="#i_fp144">Presently the new rental agreement was -signed</a> and the Major, after several abortive -attempts, flung open the door of the -safe and put it carefully away in one of -the compartments. Then he took up his -broad-brimmed black felt hat and reached -for his cane.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp144"> - <img src="images/i_fp144.jpg" alt="" title=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_144">PRESENTLY THE NEW RENTAL AGREEMENT WAS SIGNED</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“And now, Mr. Winthrop,” he said, -“we’ll just take a walk around the town, -sir; I’d like you to meet some of our citizens, -sir.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop good-naturedly acquiesced -and preceded the Major down the stairs. -During the next hour-and-a-half Winthrop -was impressively introduced to and warmly -welcomed by some two dozen of Corunna’s -foremost citizens, from ’Squire Parish, -whom they discovered buying a bale of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -cotton in the dim recess of his hardware -store, to Mr. “Cad” Wilson, who wiped -his hand on a towel before reaching it -across the bar to add his welcome.</p> - -<p>“Not one of the aristocracy,” explained -the Major, as they took their way out after -drinking Winthrop’s health in Bourbon, -“but a gentleman at heart, sir, in spite of -his business, sir. When in need of liquid -refreshment, Mr. Winthrop, you will find -his place the best in town, sir, and you may -always depend on receiving courteous -treatment.”</p> - -<p>The post-office, toward which they bent -their steps after breasting Mr. “Cad” Wilson’s -swinging doors, proved to be a veritable -stamping-ground for Corunna’s celebrities. -There Winthrop was introduced -to the Reverend Mr. Fillock, the Presbyterian -minister; to Mr. “Ham” Somes, the -proprietor of the principal drug store; to -Colonel Byers, in from his plantation a -few miles outside of town to look up an -express shipment, and the postmaster himself, -Major Warren, who displayed an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -empty sleeve and, as Winthrop’s guide explained, -still never took a drink without -preceding it with the toast, “Secession, -sah!”</p> - -<p>When Colonel Byers alluded to the missing -express package the Major chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Colonel,” he said, “’taint another of -those boxes of hardware, is it?”</p> - -<p>The Colonel laughed and shook his head, -and the Major turned to Winthrop with -twinkling eyes.</p> - -<p>“You see, Mr. Winthrop, the Colonel got -a box of hardware by express some years -ago; from Savannah, wan’t it, Colonel?”</p> - -<p>“Atlanta, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Well, anyhow, the Colonel was busy -and didn’t get into town right away, and -one day he got a letter from the express -agent, saying: ‘Please call for your box -of hardware as it’s leaking all over the -floor.’”</p> - -<p>The Colonel appeared to enjoy the story -quite as much as the Major, and Winthrop -found their mirth quite as laugh-provoking -as the tale.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span></p> - -<p>“And I have heard that the Colonel -never got to town in as quick time as he -did then!”</p> - -<p>“Morning, Harry,” said the Major, -turning to the newcomer. “I reckon you -heard just about right, Harry. I want to -introduce you to my friend Mr. Winthrop, -of New York, sir. Mr. Winthrop, shake -hands with Mr. Bartow. Mr. Bartow, sir, -represents us at the Capital.”</p> - -<p>“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, -sir,” said the Honorable Mr. Bartow. -“You are staying with us for awhile, -sir?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, probably for a few months,” replied -Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“Good, sir; I am pleased to hear it. You -must give me the pleasure of taking dinner -with me some day, sir. I’ll get the -Major to arrange it at your convenience.”</p> - -<p>“And bring Mr. Winthrop out to Sunnyside, -Lucius,” said the Colonel. “Some -Sunday would be best, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop accepted the invitations—or -perhaps the Major did it for him—and after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -shaking hands with the Colonel and the -Honorable Harry Bartow he was conducted -forth by his guide. Their course along -the sunlit street was often interrupted, -and Winthrop’s list of acquaintances grew -with each interruption. It was quite evident -that being vouched for by Major Lucius -Quintus Cass stood for a good deal, -and in every case Winthrop’s welcome was -impressively courteous. Once or twice the -Major was stopped by men to whom Winthrop -was not introduced. After one such -occasion the Major said, as they went on:</p> - -<p>“Not one of our kind, Mr. Winthrop; -his acquaintance would be of no benefit, -sir.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop noticed that not once did the -Major in his introductions allude to the -former’s ownership of Waynewood. And -evidently the Major concluded that the fact -required elucidation, for when they had -finally returned to the corner where stood -the Major’s office the latter said:</p> - -<p>“You may have observed, Mr. Winthrop, -that I have not mentioned your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> -ownership of Waynewood. I thought it as -well not to, sir, for as you do not intend to -take possession this winter there can be -no harm in allowing folks to remain in ignorance -of—ah—the change. It will make -it much easier, sir, for Miss India and her -niece. You agree with me?”</p> - -<p>“Entirely,” replied Winthrop, suppressing -a smile. “We will keep the fact -a secret for awhile, Major.”</p> - -<p>“Quite so, sir, quite so. And now, sir, -I should be delighted if you would take -dinner with me at the hotel, if you will be -so kind.”</p> - -<p>But Winthrop declined and, thanking -the other for his kindness, shook hands and -turned his steps homeward, or, at least, toward -Waynewood; he had begun to doubt -his possession of that place.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Winthrop had been at Waynewood a -week—a week of which one day had been -so like the next that Winthrop remembered -them all with impartial haziness and content. -It was delightful to have nothing -more startling to look forward to than a -quail-shoot, a dinner at Sunnyside, or a -game of whist in town; to have each day -as alike in mellowness and sunshine as they -were similar in events, pass softly across -the garden, from shadow to shadow, the -while he watched its passage with tranquilly -smiling eyes and inert body from -the seat under the magnolia or a chair on -the quiet porch.</p> - -<p>The past became the flimsiest of ghosts, -the future a mere insignificant speck on -the far horizon. What mattered it that -once his heart had ached? That he was -practically penniless? That somewhere<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -men were hurrying and striving for -wealth? The sky was hazily blue, the sunlight -was wine of gold, the southern breeze -was the soothing touch of a soft and fragrant -hand that bade him rest and sleep, for -there was no yesterday and no morrow, -and the taste of lotus was sweet in his -mouth. The mornings danced brightly -past to the lilt of bird song; the afternoons -paced more leisurely, crossing the tangled -garden with measured, somnolent tread so -quiet that not a leaf stirred, not a bird -chirped in the enfolding silence; the evenings -grew from purple haze, fragrant with -wood-smoke, to blue-black clarity set with -a million silver stars whose soft radiance -bathed the still world with tender light. -Such days and such nights have a spell, -and Winthrop was bound.</p> - -<p>And Holly? Fate, although she was still -unsuspecting of the fact, had toppled the -stone into the stream and the ripples were -already widening. Winthrop’s coming had -been an event. Holly had her friends, girls -of her own age, who came to Waynewood<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> -to see her and whom she visited in town, -and young men in the early twenties who -walked or drove out in the evenings, when -their duties in the stores and offices were -over, and made very chivalrous and distant -love to her in the parlor. But for all -that many of the days had been long with -only Aunt India, who was not exactly -chatty, and the servants to talk to. But -now it was different. This charming and -delightfully inexplicable Northerner was -fair prey. He was never too busy to listen -to her; in fact, he was seldom busy at all, -unless sitting, sometimes with a closed -book in one’s lap, and gazing peacefully -into space may be termed being busy. They -had quite exciting mornings together very -often, exciting, at least, for Holly, when -she unburdened herself of a wealth of reflections -and conclusions and when he listened -with the most agreeable attention in -the world and always said just the right -thing to tempt her tongue to more brilliant -ardor.</p> - -<p>And then in the afternoons, while Aunt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> -India slept and Holly couldn’t, just because -the blood ran far too fast in her young -veins, there were less stimulating but very -comforting talks in the shade of the porch. -And sometimes they walked, but,—for -Holly had inherited the characteristic disinclination -for overindulgence in that form -of exercise,—not very frequently. Holly -would have indorsed the proverb—Persian, -isn’t it?—which says, in part, that it -is easier to sit than to stand and easier to -lie down than to sit. And Winthrop at -this period would have agreed with her. -Judged by Northern standards, Holly -might have been deemed lazy. But we -must remember that Holly came of people -who had never felt the necessity of physical -exertion, since there had always been -slaves at hand to perform the slightest -task, and for whom the climate had prohibited -any inclination in that direction. -Holly’s laziness was that of a kitten, which -seldom goes out to walk for pleasure but -which will romp until its breath is gone -or stalk a sparrow for an hour untiringly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span></p> - -<p>By the end of the first week she and -Winthrop had become the very good -friends they had agreed to be. They had -reached the point where it was no longer -necessary to preface their conversation -with an introduction. Now when Holly -had anything to say—and she usually did—she -plunged right in without any preliminary -shivers. As this morning when, having -given out the supplies for the day to -Aunt Venus, she joined Winthrop under -the magnolia, settling her back against the -trunk and clasping her hands about her -knees, “I reckon there are two sides to -everything,” she said, with the air of one -who is announcing the result of long study.</p> - -<p>Winthrop, who had arisen at her approach -and remained standing until she -had seated herself, settled back again and -smiled encouragingly. He liked to hear -her talk, liked the soft coo of her voice, -liked the things she said, liked, besides, to -watch the play of expression on her face.</p> - -<p>“Father always said that the Yankees -had no right to interfere with the South<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> -and that it wasn’t war with them, it was -just homicide. Homicide’s where you kill -someone else, isn’t it? I always get it -mixed up with suicide.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop nodded.</p> - -<p>“That’s what he used to say, and I’m -sure he believed it or he’d never have said -it. But maybe he was mistaken. Was he, -do you think?”</p> - -<p>“He might have been a trifle biased,” -said Winthrop.</p> - -<p>Holly was silent a moment. Then——</p> - -<p>“Uncle Major,” she continued, “used to -argue with him, but father always had the -best of it. I reckon, though, you Northerners -are sorry now, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Sorry that there was war, yes,” answered -Winthrop, smilingly; “but not -sorry for what we did.”</p> - -<p>“But if it was wrong?” argued Holly. -“’Pears to me you ought to be sorry! -Just see the heaps and heaps of trouble -you made for the South! Julian says that -you ought to have paid us for every negro -you took away from us.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span></p> - -<p>“Indeed? And who, may I ask, is Julian?”</p> - -<p>“Julian Wayne is my cousin, my second -cousin. He graduated from medical college -last year. He lives in Marysville, over -yonder.” Holly nodded vaguely toward -the grove.</p> - -<p>“Practising, is he?”</p> - -<p>“He’s Dr. Thompson’s assistant,” said -Holly. “He’s getting experience. After -awhile he’s going to come to Corunna.” -There was a pause. “He’s coming over -to-morrow to spend Sunday.”</p> - -<p>“Really? And does he make these trips -very often?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, every now and then,” answered -Holly, carelessly.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps there is an attraction hereabouts,” -suggested Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“Maybe it’s Aunt India,” said Holly, -gravely.</p> - -<p>Winthrop laughed.</p> - -<p>“Is he nice, this Cousin Julian?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>Holly nodded.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span></p> - -<p>“He’s a dear boy. He’s very young yet, -only twenty-three.”</p> - -<p>“And eighteen from twenty-three leaves -five,” teased Winthrop. “I’ve heard, I -think, that ten is the ideal disparity in -years for purposes of marriage, but doubtless -five isn’t to be sneezed at.”</p> - -<p>Holly’s smooth cheeks reddened a little.</p> - -<p>“A girl ought to marry a man much -older than herself,” she said, decisively.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Then Julian won’t do?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t decided,” Holly laughed. -“Maybe. He’s nice. I wonder if you’ll -like him. Will you try to, please? He—he’s -awfully down on Northerners, -though.”</p> - -<p>“That’s bad,” said Winthrop, seriously. -“Perhaps he won’t approve of me. Do -you think I’d better run away over Sunday? -I might go out to visit Colonel -Byers; he’s asked me.”</p> - -<p>“Silly!” said Holly. “He won’t eat -you!”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s comforting. I’ll stay, -then. The dislike of Northerners seems to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -be a strong trait in your family, Miss -Holly.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, some Northerners are quite nice,” -she answered, with a challenging glance.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” he asked, with intense diffidence, -“I wonder—if I’m included among -the quite nice ones?”</p> - -<p>“What do you think, Mr. Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve always thought rather well -of myself until I came to Corunna. But -now that I have learned just how poor a -lot Northerners are, I find myself rather -more modest.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop sighed depressedly.</p> - -<p>“I’ll change it,” said Holly, her eyes -dancing. “I’ll say instead that <em>one</em> Northerner -is very nice.”</p> - -<p>“You said ‘quite nice’ before.”</p> - -<p>“That just shows that I like you better -every minute,” laughed the girl.</p> - -<p>Winthrop sighed.</p> - -<p>“It’s a dangerous course you’re pursuing, -Miss Holly,” he said, sadly. “If you -aren’t awfully careful you’ll lose a good -slave and find a poor admirer.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span></p> - -<p>“My admirers must be my slaves, too,” -answered Holly.</p> - -<p>“I am warned. I thank you. I could -never play a dual rôle, I fear.”</p> - -<p>Holly pouted.</p> - -<p>“Then which do you choose?” she asked, -aggrievedly.</p> - -<p>“To be your slave, my dear young lady; -I fancy that rôle would be more becoming -to middle-age and, at all events, far less -hazardous.”</p> - -<p>“But if I command you to admire me -you’ll have to, you see; slaves must obey.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t waited for the command,” -replied Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“You blow hot and cold, sir. First you -refuse to be my admirer and then you declare -that you do admire me. What am I -to believe?”</p> - -<p>“That my heart and brain are at war, -Miss Holly. My heart says: ‘Down on -your knees!’ but my brain says: ‘Don’t -you do it, my boy; she’ll lead you a dance -that your aged limbs won’t take kindly to, -and in the end she’ll run out of your sight,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> -laughing, leaving you to sorrow and liniment!”</p> - -<p>“You have as good as called me a coquette, -Mr. Winthrop,” charged Holly, severely.</p> - -<p>“Have I? And, pray, what have you -been doing for the last ten minutes but coquetting -with me, young lady? Tell me -that.”</p> - -<p>“Have I?” asked Holly, with a soft little -laugh. “Do you mind?”</p> - -<p>“Mind? On the contrary, do you know, -I rather like it? So go right ahead; you -are keeping your hand in, and at the same -time flattering the vanity of one who has -reached the age when to be used even for -target practice is flattering.”</p> - -<p>“Your age troubles you a great deal, -doesn’t it?” asked Holly, ironically. -“Please, why do you always remind me of -it? Are you afraid that I’ll lose my heart -to you and that you’ll have to refuse me?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you have seen me for a week,” -answered Winthrop, modestly, “and know -my irresistible charm.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span></p> - -<p>Holly was silent a moment, her brown -eyes fixed speculatively on the man’s smiling -face. Then——</p> - -<p>“You must feel awfully safe,” she said, -with conviction, “to talk the way you do. -And I reckon I know why.”</p> - -<p>“And may I know, too?”</p> - -<p>“No; that is, you do know already, -and I’m not going to tell you. Oh, what -time is it, please?”</p> - -<p>Winthrop drew out his watch and then, -with a shrug, dropped it back into his -pocket.</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell you. The fact is, I forgot -to wind it last night. Why should I wind -it, anyhow? What does it matter what -time it is in this place? If the sun is -there, I know it’s morning; if it’s somewhere -overhead, I know it’s noon; when it -drops behind the trees, I know it’s evening; -when it disappears, I know it’s night—and -I go to sleep. Watches and clocks -are anachronisms here. Like arctics and -fur overcoats.”</p> - -<p>“I shall go and find out,” said Holly, -rising.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span></p> - -<p>“Why waste time and effort in the pursuit -of unprofitable knowledge?” sighed -Winthrop. But he received no answer, for -his companion was already making her -way through the garden. Winthrop laid -his head back against the tree and, with -half-closed eyes, smiled lazily and contentedly -up into the brown-and-green leafage -above. And as he did so a thought came -to him, a most ridiculous, inappropriate -thought, a veritable serpent-in-Eden -thought; he wondered what “A. S. common” -was selling for! He drove the -thought away angrily. What nonsense! -If he wasn’t careful he’d find himself trying -to remember the amount of his balance -in bank! Odd what absurd turns the mind -was capable of! Well, the only way to -keep his mind away from idle speculation -was to turn his thoughts toward serious -and profitable subjects. So he wondered -why the magnolia leaves were covered with -green satin on top and tan velvet beneath. -But before he had arrived at any conclusion -Holly came back, bearing a glass containing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -a milky-white liquid and a silver -spoon.</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p163"> - <img src="images/i_p163.jpg" alt="Holly bearing medicine" title="Holly bearing medicine"> -</div> - -<p>“It’s past the time,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Then you shouldn’t have bothered to -bring it,” answered Winthrop, regretfully. -“But never mind; we’ll try and remember -it at supper time.”</p> - -<p>“But you must take it now,” persisted -Holly, firmly.</p> - -<p>“But I fear it wouldn’t -do any good. You see, -your Aunt said distinctly -an hour before meals. -The psychological moment -has passed, greatly -to my rel—regret.”</p> - -<p>“Please!” said Holly, -holding the glass toward -him. “You know it’s doing -you heaps of good.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but that’s just it, don’t you see, -Miss Holly? If I continue to take it I’ll -be quite well in no time, and that would -never do. Would you deprive your Aunt -of the pleasure she is now enjoying of dosing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> -me thrice a day with the most nauseous -mixture that was ever invented?”</p> - -<p>“Shucks! It isn’t so terribly bad,” -laughed Holly.</p> - -<p>Winthrop observed her sternly.</p> - -<p>“Have you sampled it, may I ask?”</p> - -<p>Holly shook her head.</p> - -<p>“Then please do so. It will do you lots -of good, besides preventing you from making -any more well-meant but inaccurate -remarks. And you have been looking a -bit pale the last day or two, Miss Holly.”</p> - -<p>Holly viewed the mixture dubiously, hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>“Besides, you said ‘Shucks,’ and you -owe yourself punishment.”</p> - -<p>“Well——” Holly swallowed a spoonful, -tried not to shiver, and absolutely -succeeded in smiling brightly afterwards.</p> - -<p>“Well?” asked Winthrop, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“I—I think it has calomel in it,” said -Holly.</p> - -<p>“I feared it.” He shook his head and -warded off the proffered glass. “I am a -homœopath.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span></p> - -<p>“You’re a baby, that’s what you are!” -said Holly, tauntingly.</p> - -<p>“Ha! No one shall accuse me of cowardice.” -He clenched his hands. “Administer -it, please.”</p> - -<p>Holly moved toward him until her skirt -brushed his knees. As she dipped the -spoon a faint flush crept into her cheeks. -Winthrop saw, and understood.</p> - -<p>“No, give it to me,” he said. “I will -feed myself. Then, no matter what happens—and -I fear the worst!—you will not -be implicated.”</p> - -<p>Holly yielded the glass and moved back, -watching him sympathetically while he -swallowed two spoonfuls of the medicine.</p> - -<p>“Was it awfully bad?” she asked, as he -passed the glass to her with a shudder.</p> - -<p>Winthrop reflected. Then:</p> - -<p>“Frankly, it was,” he replied. “But it’s -a good deal like having your teeth filled; -it’s almost worth it for the succeeding glow -of courage and virtue and relief it brings. -Put it out of sight, please, and let us talk -of pleasant things.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span></p> - -<p>“What?” asked Holly, as she sat down -once more on the bench.</p> - -<p>“Well, let me see. Suppose, Miss Holly, -you tell me how you came to have such a -charming and unusual name.”</p> - -<p>“My mother gave it to me,” answered -Holly, softly. “She was very fond of -holly.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” exclaimed Winthrop. -“It was an impertinent question.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no. My mother only lived a little -while after I was born—about five weeks. -She died on New Year’s morning. On -Christmas Day father picked a spray of -holly from one of the bushes down by the -road. It was quite full of red berries and -so pretty that he took it in to my mother. -Father said she took it in her hands and -cried a little over it, and he was sorry he -had brought it to her. They had laid me -beside her in the bed and presently she -placed the holly sprig over me and kissed -me and looked at father. She couldn’t -talk very much then. But father understood -what she meant. ‘Holly?’ he asked,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span> -and mother smiled, and—and that was -‘how come.’” Holly, her hands clasped -between her knees, looked gravely and -tenderly away across the sunny garden. -Winthrop kept silence for a moment. -Then——</p> - -<p>“I fancy they loved each other very -dearly, your father and mother,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, they did!” breathed Holly. “Father -used to tell me—about it. He always -said I was just like my mother. It—it -must have been beautiful. Do you -reckon,” she continued wistfully, “people -love that way nowadays?”</p> - -<p>“To-day, yesterday, and to-morrow,” -answered Winthrop. “The great passions—love, -hate, acquisitiveness—are the same -now as in the beginning, and will never -change while the earth spins around. I -hope, Miss Holly, that the years will bring -you as great a love and as happy a one as -your mother’s.”</p> - -<p>Holly viewed him pensively a moment. -Then a little flush crept into her cheeks -and she turned her head away.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span></p> - -<p>“No,” she said, “I’m not dear and sweet -and gentle like my mother. Besides, -maybe I’d never find a man like my -father.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not,” replied Winthrop, “although -I hope you will. But even if not, I -wouldn’t despair. Love is a very wonderful -magician, who transmutes clay into gold, -transforms baseness into nobility, and -changes caitiffs into kings.” He laughed -amusedly. “Great Scott! I’m actually -becoming rhetorical! It’s this climate of -yours, Miss Holly; there is something magical -about it; it creeps into one’s veins like -wine and makes one’s heart thump at the -sound of a bird’s song. Why, hang it, in -another week I shall find myself singing -love songs under your window on moonlight -nights!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that would be lovely!” cried Holly, -clapping her hands. “I haven’t been serenaded -for the longest time!”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that such things are -really done here?”</p> - -<p>“Of course! The boys often serenade.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> -When I came home from the Academy, Julian -and a lot of them serenaded me. It -was a white, white night and they stood -over there under my windows; I remember -how black their shadows were on the path. -Julian and Jim Stuart played guitars and -some of the others had banjos, and it was -heavenly!”</p> - -<p>“And such things still happen in this -prematurely-aged, materialistic world!” -marvelled Winthrop. “It sounds like a -fairy tale!”</p> - -<p>“I reckon it sounds silly to you,” said -Holly.</p> - -<p>“Silly! Oh, my dear young lady, if you -could only realize how very, very rich you -are!”</p> - -<p>“Rich?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, rich and wise with the unparalleled -wealth and wisdom of Youth! -Hearken to the words of Age and Experience, -Miss Holly,” he continued, half jestingly, -half seriously. “The world belongs -to you and your kind; it is the Kingdom of -Youth. The rest of us are here on sufferance;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> -but you belong. The world tolerates -Age, but to Youth it owes allegiance -and love. But your days are short in your -kingdom, O Queen, so make the most of -them; laugh and play and love and <em>live</em>; -above all, live! And above all be extravagant, -extravagant of laughter—and of -tears; extravagant of affection; run the -gamut of life every hour; be mad, be foolish—but -<em>live</em>! And so when the World -thrusts you to one side, saying: ‘The King -is dead! Long live the King!’ you will -have no regrets for a wasted reign, but -can say: ‘While I ruled, I lived!’”</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t understand—quite!” faltered -Holly.</p> - -<p>“Because you are too wise.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon you mean too stupid,” -mourned Holly.</p> - -<p>“Too wise. You are Youth, and Youth -is Perfect Wisdom. When you grow old -you will know more but be less wise. And -the longer you live the more learning will -come to you and the more wisdom will depart. -And in proof of this I point to myself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> -as an example. For no wise person -would try to convince Youth of its wisdom.” -Winthrop stopped and drew his -cigarette-case from his pocket. When he -had lighted a cigarette he smiled quizzically -across at the girl’s sober, half-averted face. -“It’s very warm, isn’t it?” he asked, with -a little laugh.</p> - -<p>But Holly made no reply for a minute. -Then she turned a troubled face toward -him.</p> - -<p>“Why did you say that?” she cried. -“You’ve made me feel sad!”</p> - -<p>With a gesture of contrition Winthrop -reached across and laid his hand for an -instant on hers.</p> - -<p>“My dear, I am sorry; forget it if it -troubles you; I have been talking nonsense, -sheer nonsense.”</p> - -<p>But she shook her head, examining his -face gravely.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t reckon you have; but—I -don’t understand quite what you mean. -Only——” She paused, and presently -asked:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span></p> - -<p>“Didn’t you live when you ruled? Are -you regretting?”</p> - -<p>Winthrop shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“That,” he answered, smilingly, “is the -sorry part of it; one always regrets. -Come, let’s go in to dinner. I heard the -bell, didn’t I?”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Winthrop thought that he could like -Julian Wayne if that youth would let him. -But it was evident from the moment of -their first meeting that Julian wasn’t going -to allow anything of the sort. He arrived -at Waynewood Saturday night, and -Winthrop, who had spent the evening with -the Major at ’Squire Parish’s house, did -not meet him until Sunday morning. He -was tall, dark haired and sallow complexioned, -and as handsome as any youth Winthrop -had ever seen. His features were -regular, with a fine, straight nose, wide -eyes, a strong chin and a good, somewhat -tense, mouth that matched with the general -air of imperiousness he wore. Winthrop -soon discovered that Julian Wayne retained -undiminished the old Southern doctrine -of caste and that he looked upon the -new member of the Waynewood household<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> -with a polite but very frank contempt. He -was ardent, impetuous, and arrogant, but -they were traits of youth rather than of -character, and Winthrop, for his part, -readily forgave them. That he was head-over-heels -in love with Holly was evident -from the first, and Winthrop could have -liked him the more for that. But Julian’s -bearing was discouraging to any notions of -friendship which Winthrop might have entertained. -For Winthrop breakfast—which -Miss India attended, as was her -usual custom on Sundays—was an uncomfortable -meal. He felt very much like an -intruder, in spite of the fact that both Miss -India and Holly strove to include him in -the conversation, and he was relieved when -it was over.</p> - -<p>Julian imperiously claimed Holly’s companionship -and the two went out to the -front porch. Miss India attended to the -matter of dinner supplies, and then returned -to her room to dress for church. -Being cut off from the porch, Winthrop -went up-stairs and took a chair and a book<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> -out on to the gallery. But the voices of -the two below came up to him in a low, -eager hum, interspersed with occasional -words, and drew his mind from the book. -He was a little disappointed in Julian -Wayne, he told himself. He could have -wished a different sort of a man for -Holly’s husband. And then he laughed at -himself for inconsistency. Only two days -before he had been celebrating just the -youthful traits which Julian exhibited. -Doubtless the boy would make her a very -admirable mate. At least, he was thoroughly -in love with her. Winthrop strove -to picture the ideal husband for Holly and -found himself all at sea on the instant, and -ended by wondering whimsically how long -he would allow Julian undisputed possession -of her if he were fifteen—even ten—years -younger!</p> - -<p>Later they all walked to church, Julian -and Holly leading the way, as handsome a -couple as had ever passed under the whispering -oak-trees, and Winthrop and Miss -India pacing staidly along behind—at a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -discreet interval. Miss India’s bearing toward -him amused Winthrop even while it -piqued him. She was the most kind, most -courteous little woman in the world to him, -displaying a vast interest in and sympathy -for his invalidism, and keeping an anxious -watch over his goings and comings in the -fear that he would overtax his strength. -And yet all the while Winthrop knew as -well as he knew his name that she resented -his ownership of her home and would be -vastly relieved at his departure. And -knowing this, he, on every possible occasion, -set himself to win the little lady’s -liking, with, he was forced to acknowledge, -scant prospect of success.</p> - -<p>Winthrop sat between Miss India and -Holly, with Julian at the end of the pew. It -was his first sight of the little, unadorned -Episcopal church, for he had not accompanied -the ladies the previous Sunday. It -was a plain, uncompromising interior in -which he found himself. The bare white -walls were broken only by big, small-paned -windows of plain glass. The pews were of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> -yellow pine and the pulpit and stiff chairs -on either side were of the same. The only -note of decoration was found in the vase -of roses which stood beside the big closed -Bible. A cottage organ supplied the music. -But there was color in the congregation, -for the younger women wore their -best dresses and finest hats, and Winthrop -concluded that all Corunna was at church. -For awhile he interested himself in discovering -acquaintances, many of them -scarcely recognizable to-day in their black -coats and air of devoutness. But the possibilities -of that mode of amusement were -soon exhausted, since the Wayne pew was -well past the middle of the church. After -the sermon began Winthrop listened to it -for awhile. Probably it was a very excellent -and passably interesting sermon, but -the windows were wide open and the -languorous air waved softly, warmly in, -and Winthrop’s eyes grew heavier and -heavier and the pulpit mistier and mistier -and the parson’s voice lower and lower -and....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span></p> - -<p>He opened his eyes very suddenly, for -Holly had reached forth and brought the -toe of her shoe into sharp contact with his -ankle. He turned to find her watching him -with grave face and laughing eyes, and he -looked his thanks. Then his eyes roved by -to encounter the hostile stare of Julian, -who had witnessed the incident and was -jealously resenting the intimacy it denoted.</p> - -<p>After church the party delayed at the -door to greet their friends. Julian, with -the easy courtesy that so well became him, -shook hands with fully half the congregation, -answering and asking questions in -his pleasant, well-bred drawl. Winthrop -wondered pessimistically if he had in mind -the fact that in another year or so he would -be dependent on these persons for his -bread and butter. But Julian’s punctiliousness -gave Winthrop his chance. Miss -India and Holly had finished their share -of the social event and had walked slowly -out on to the porch, followed by Winthrop. -Presently Julian emerged through the door<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> -in conversation with Mrs. Somes, and Winthrop -turned to Holly.</p> - -<p>“There comes your cousin,” he said. -“Shall we start on ahead and let them follow?”</p> - -<p>There was a little flicker of surprise in -the brown eyes, followed by the merest -suggestion of a smile. Then Holly moved -toward the steps and Winthrop ranged -himself beside her.</p> - -<p>“A little discipline now and then has a -salutary effect, Miss Holly,” he remarked, -as they passed out through the gate.</p> - -<p>“Oh, are you doing this for discipline?” -asked Holly, innocently.</p> - -<p>“I am doing it to please myself, discipline -your cousin, and—well, I don’t know -what the effect on you may be.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you’re hinting for compliments, -Mr. Winthrop!”</p> - -<p>“Maybe; I’ve been feeling strangely -frivolous of late. By the way, please accept -my undying gratitude for that kick.”</p> - -<p>“You ought to be grateful,” answered -Holly, with a laugh. “In another moment<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> -your head would have been on Auntie’s -shoulder and—I hope you don’t snore, Mr. -Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“Heavens! Was it as bad as that? I -<em>am</em> grateful! Fancy your Aunt’s horror!” -And Winthrop laughed at the -thought.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Auntie would have just thought -you’d fainted and had you carried home -and put to bed,” said Holly.</p> - -<p>“I wonder how much you know?” mused -Winthrop, turning to look down into her -demure face.</p> - -<p>“About what, Mr. Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“About my—my invalidism.”</p> - -<p>“Why, you’re a very sick man, of -course,” replied Holly. “Auntie is quite -worried about you at times.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop laughed.</p> - -<p>“But you’re not, I suspect. I fancy you -have guessed that I am something of an -impostor. Have you?”</p> - -<p>“Mh-mh,” assented Holly, smilingly.</p> - -<p>“I thought so; you’ve been so fearfully -attentive with that—lovely medicine of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> -late. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself to -cause me so much affliction?”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you ashamed to impose on two -unsuspecting ladies?”</p> - -<p>“Well, seeing that I haven’t fooled you -I don’t think you need to say ‘two.’ But -I’m not altogether to blame, Miss Holly. -It was that scheming Uncle Major of yours -that beguiled me into it. He declared up -and down that if I wanted to remain at -Waynewood the only thing to do was to -continue being an invalid. And now—well, -now I don’t dare get well!”</p> - -<p>Holly laughed gayly.</p> - -<p>“If you had owned up before, you would -have been spared a good many doses of -medicine,” she said. “It was lots of fun -to make you take it! But now I don’t -reckon I’ll have the heart to any more.”</p> - -<p>“Bless you for those words!” said Winthrop, -devoutly. “That infernal medicine -has been the one fly in my ointment, the -single crumbled leaf in my bed of roses. -Hereafter I shall be perfectly happy. -That is, if I survive the day. I fancy your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -cousin may call me out before he leaves -and put a bullet into me.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” asked Holly, innocently.</p> - -<p>“Jealousy, my dear young lady. -Haven’t I carried you off from under his -nose?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t reckon I’d have gone if I hadn’t -wanted to,” said Holly, with immense dignity.</p> - -<p>“That makes it all the worse, don’t you -see? He is convinced by this time that I -have designs on you and looks upon me as -a hated rival. I can feel his eyes boring -gimlet-holes in my back this moment.”</p> - -<p>“It will do him good,” said Holly, with -a little toss of her head.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I thought,” said Winthrop. -“But I doubt if he is capable of -taking the same sensible view of it.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid you don’t like him,” said -Holly, regretfully.</p> - -<p>“My dear Miss Holly,” he expostulated, -“he doesn’t give me a chance. I am as dirt -under his feet. I think I might like him -if he’d give me chance. He’s as handsome<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -a youngster as I’ve ever seen, and I fancy -I can trace a strong resemblance between -him and the portrait of your father in the -parlor; the eyes are very like.”</p> - -<p>“Others have said that,” answered -Holly, “but I never could see the resemblance; -I wish I could.”</p> - -<p>“I assure you it’s there.”</p> - -<p>“Julian is very silly,” said Holly, -warmly. “And I shall tell him so.”</p> - -<p>“Pray don’t,” begged Winthrop. “He -doubtless already dislikes me quite heartily -enough.”</p> - -<p>“He has no right to be rude to you.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop smiled ruefully.</p> - -<p>“But he isn’t; that’s the worst of it! -He’s scrupulously polite—just as one -would be polite to the butler or the man -from the butcher’s! No, don’t call him to -account, please; we shall get on well -enough, he and I. Maybe when he discovers -that I am not really trying to steal you -away from him he will come off his high -horse. I suppose, however, that the real -reason for it all is that he resents my intrusion<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -at Waynewood—quite in the popular -manner.”</p> - -<p>He regretted the latter remark the instant -he had made it, for Holly turned a -distressed countenance toward him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, have we been as bad as all that?” -she cried, softly. “I’m so sorry! But -really and really you mustn’t think that -we don’t like you to be at Waynewood! -You won’t, will you? Please don’t! Why, -I—I have been so happy since you came!”</p> - -<p>“Bless you,” answered Winthrop, -lightly, “I really meant nothing. And if -you are willing to put up with me, why, -the others don’t matter at all. But I’m awfully -glad to know that you haven’t found -me a bother, Miss Holly.”</p> - -<p>“How could I? You’ve been so nice and—and -chummy! I shan’t want you to go -away,” she added, sorrowfully. “I feel -just as though you were a nice, big elder -brother.”</p> - -<p>“That’s just what I am,” replied Winthrop, -heartily, “a big elder brother—<em>and</em> -a slave—and <em>always</em> an admirer.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span></p> - -<p>“And I shall tell Julian so,” added -Holly.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t, really.”</p> - -<p>“But why?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, you’ll just make him more -jealous and unhappy, my dear. Or, at -least, that’s the effect it would have on me -were I in his place, and I fancy lovers are -much the same North and South.”</p> - -<p>“Jealousy is nasty,” said Holly, sententiously.</p> - -<p>“Many of our most human sentiments -are,” responded Winthrop dryly, “but we -can’t help them.”</p> - -<p>Holly was silent a moment. Then——</p> - -<p>“Would you mind not calling me ‘my -dear’?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Have I done that? I believe I have. I -beg your pardon, Miss Holly! Really, I -had no intention of being—what shall I -say?—familiar.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it isn’t that,” replied Holly earnestly, -“but it makes me feel so terribly -young! If you’d like to call me Holly, you -may.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p> - -<p>“Thank you,” answered Winthrop as -they entered the gate and passed into the -noonday twilight of the oleander path. -“But that is a privilege I don’t deserve, -at all events, not yet. Perhaps some day, -maybe the day I dance at your wedding, -I’ll accept the honor.”</p> - -<p>“Just see how many, many roses are -out!” cried Holly.</p> - -<p>They went on to the house in silence.</p> - -<p>Dinner was a pleasanter meal for Winthrop -than breakfast had been, principally -because the Major and a Miss Virginia -Parish, a maiden lady of uncertain age and -much charm of manners, were present. -The Major observed and resented Julian’s -polite disregard of Winthrop and after -dinner took him to task for it. The ladies -were in the parlor, Winthrop had gone up-stairs -to get some cigars, and the Major -and Julian were at the end of the porch. -It was perhaps unfortunate that Winthrop -should have been forced to overhear a part -of the conversation under his window.</p> - -<p>“You don’t treat the gentleman with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -common civility,” remonstrated the Major, -warmly.</p> - -<p>“I am not aware that I have been discourteous -to him,” responded Julian in his -drawling voice.</p> - -<p>The Major spluttered.</p> - -<p>“Gad, sir, what do you mean by discourteous? -You can’t turn your back on -a man at his own table without being discourteous! -Confound it, sir, remember -that you’re under his roof!”</p> - -<p>“I do remember it,” answered Julian -quickly. “I’m not likely to forget it, sir. -But how did it become his roof? How -did he get hold of it? Some damned Yankee -trick, I’ll wager; stole it, as like as -not!”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, sir! What language is that, -Julian? Mr. Winthrop——”</p> - -<p>But Winthrop waited to hear no more. -With the cigars he joined them on the -porch, finding the Major very red of face -and looking somewhat like an insulted turkey-cock, -and Julian with a sombre sneer -on his dark face. Julian declined the proffered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -cigar and presently left the others -alone, taking himself off in search of -Holly. The Major waved a hand after -him, and scowled angrily.</p> - -<p>“Just like his father,” he grunted. -“Hot-headed, stubborn, badly balanced, -handsome as the devil and bound to come -just such a cropper in the end.”</p> - -<p>“You mean that his father was unfortunate?” -asked Winthrop idly, as he -lighted his cigar.</p> - -<p>“Shot himself for a woman, sir. Most -nonsensical proceeding I ever heard of. -The woman wasn’t worth it, sir.”</p> - -<p>“They seldom are,” commented Winthrop, -gravely, “in the opinion of others.”</p> - -<p>“She was married,” continued the Major, -unheeding the remark, “and had children; -fine little tots they were, too. Husband -was good as gold to her. But she had -to have Fernald Wayne to satisfy her -damned vanity. I beg your pardon, Mr. -Winthrop, but I have no patience with that -sort of women, sir!”</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand them.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t want to, sir.”</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t if you did,” replied Winthrop.</p> - -<p>The Major shot a puzzled glance at him, -rolling his unlighted cigar swiftly around -in the corner of his mouth. Then he deluged -the Baltimore Bell with tobacco-juice -and went on:</p> - -<p>“Fernald was plumb out of his head -about her. His own wife had been dead -some years. Nothing would do but she -must run away with him. Well——”</p> - -<p>“Did the lady live here?” asked Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“Godamighty, no, sir! We don’t breed -that kind here, sir! She lived in New Orleans; -her husband was a cotton factor -there. Well, Fernald begged her to run -away with him, and after a lot of hemming -and hawing she consented. They made an -appointment for one night and Fernald -was there waiting. But the lady didn’t -come. After awhile he went back to his -hotel and found a note. She was sorry, -but her husband had bought tickets for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> -the opera for that evening. Eh? What? -There was soul for you, Mr. Winthrop!”</p> - -<p>Winthrop nodded.</p> - -<p>“So the lover blew his brains out, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Shot a hole in his chest; amounted to -about the same thing, I reckon,” answered -the Major, gloomily. “Now what do you -think of a woman that’ll do a thing like -that?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know but what a good -opera is to be preferred to an elopement,” -answered Winthrop. “There, there, Major, -I don’t mean to be flippant. The fact -is we hear of so many of these ‘crimes of -passion’ up our way nowadays that we -take them with the same equanimity that -we take the weather predictions. The woman -was just a good sample of her sort as -the man was doubtless a good sample of -his. He was lucky to be out of it, only he -didn’t realize it and so killed himself. -That’s the deuce of it, you see, Major; a -man who can look a thousand fathoms -into a woman’s eyes and keep his judgment -from slipping a cog is—well, he just isn’t;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> -he doesn’t exist! And if he did you and -I, Major, wouldn’t have anything to do -with him.”</p> - -<p>“Shucks!” grunted the Major, half in -agreement, half in protest.</p> - -<p>“But I hope this boy won’t follow his -father’s lead, just the same,” said Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“No, no,” answered the Major, energetically; -“he won’t, he won’t. He—he’s better -fitted for hard knocks than his dad was. -I—we had just had a few words and I was—ah—displeased. -Shall we join the ladies -inside, Mr. Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>The Major drove back to town in his -side-bar buggy behind his aged gray mule -at sunset, taking Miss Parish with him. -Miss India retired to her room, and Julian -and Holly strolled off together down the -road. Winthrop drew the arm-chair up to -the fireplace in his room and smoked and -read until supper time. At that meal only -he and Holly and Julian were present, and -the conversation was confined principally -to the former two. Julian was plainly out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -of sorts and short of temper; his wooing, -Winthrop concluded, had not gone very -well that day. Holly seemed troubled, but -whether over Julian’s unhappiness or his -impoliteness Winthrop could not guess. -After supper they went out to the porch -for a while together, but Winthrop soon -bade them good-night. For some time -through the opened windows he could hear -the faint squeaking of the joggling-board -and the fainter hum of their low voices. At -ten Julian’s horse was brought around, -and he clattered away in the starlit darkness -toward Marysville. He heard Holly -closing the door down-stairs, heard her feet -patter up the uncarpeted stairway, heard -her humming a little tune under her breath. -The lamp was still lighted on his table, and -doubtless the radiance of it showed under -the door, for Holly’s footsteps came -nearer and nearer along the hall until—</p> - -<p>“Good-night, slave!” she called, softly.</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Miss Holly,” he answered.</p> - -<p>He heard her footsteps dying away, and -finally the soft closing of a door.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -Thoughtfully he refilled his pipe and went -back to the chair in front of the dying -fire....</p> - -<p>The ashes were cold and a chill breeze -blew through the open casements. Winthrop -arose with a shiver, knocked the -ashes from his pipe and dropped it on the -mantel.</p> - -<p>“There’s no fool like an old—like a middle-aged -fool,” he muttered, as he blew -out the lamp.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="X">X.</h2> -</div> - - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p194"> - <img src="images/i_p194.jpg" alt="Aunt Venus" title="Aunt Venus"> -</div> - -<p>Holly’s birthday was quite an event at -Waynewood. Aunt Venus outdid herself -and there never was such a dinner, from -the okra soup to the young guineas and on -to the snowy syllabub and the birthday -cake with its eighteen flaring pink candles. -Uncle Major was there, as were two of -Holly’s girl friends, and the little party of -six proved most congenial. Holly was in -the highest spirits; everyone she knew had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> -been so kind to her. Aunt India had given -her dimity for a new dress and a pair of -the gauziest white silk stockings that ever -crackled against the ear. The dimity was -white sprinkled with little Dresden flowers -of deep pink. Holly and Rosa and Edith -had spent fully -an hour before -dinner in enthusiastic -planning -and the fate of -the white dimity -was settled. It -was to be made -up over pale pink, and the skirt was -to be quite plain save for a single deep -flounce at the bottom. Rosa had just -the pattern for it and Holly was to drive -out to Bellair in a day or so and get it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -The Major had brought a blue plush case -lined with maroon satin and holding three -pairs of scissors, a bodkin, and two ribbon-runners.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p195"> - <img src="images/i_p195.jpg" alt="Holly's birthday cake" title="Holly's birthday cake"> -</div> - -<p>“I don’t know what those flat gimcracks -are for, Holly,” he said, as she kissed him, -“but ‘Ham’ he said he reckoned you’d -know what to do with them. I told him, -‘Ham, you’re a married man and I’m a -bachelor, and don’t you go and impose on -my ignorance. If there’s anything indelicate -about those instruments you take ’em -out.’ But he said as long as I didn’t see -’em in use it was all right and proper.”</p> - -<p>Julian had sent a tiny gold brooch and -Winthrop had presented a five-pound box -of candy. Of the two the candy made the -more pronounced hit. It had come all the -way from New York, and was such an imposing -affair with its light blue moire-paper -box and its yards of silk ribbon! -And then the wonderful things inside! -Candied violets and rose- and chrysanthemum-petals, -grapes hidden in coverings of -white cream, little squares of fruit-cake<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -disguised as plebeian caramels, purple -raisins and white almonds buried side by -side in amber glacé, white and lavender -pellets that broke to nothing in the mouth -and left a surprising and agreeable flavor -of brandy, little smooth nuggets of gold -and silver and a dozen other fanciful -whims of the confectioner. The girls -screamed and laughed with delight, and -the Major pretended to feel the effects of -three brandy-drops and insisted on telling -Miss India about his second wife. There -had been other gifts besides. Holly’s old -“mammy” had walked in, three miles, with -six-guinea-eggs in a nest of gray moss; -Phœbe had gigglingly presented a yard of -purple silk “h’ar ribbon,” Aunt Venus -had brought a brown checked sun-bonnet of -her own making, and even Young Tom, -holding one thumb tightly between his -teeth and standing embarrassedly on one -dusty yellow foot, had brought his gift, a -bundle of amulets rolled out of newspaper -and artistically dyed in beet juice. Yes, -everyone had been very kind to Holly, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> -her eighteenth birthday was nothing short -of an occasion.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon Holly and Rosa and -the Major piled into his buggy and went -for a ride, while Miss India retired for her -nap, and Winthrop and Edith sat on the -porch. Miss Bartram was a tall, graceful, -golden-haired beauty of nineteen, with -sentimental gray eyes and an affectation -of world-weariness which Winthrop found -for a time rather diverting. They perched -on the joggling-board together and discussed -Holly, affinities, Julian Wayne, love, -Richmond, New York, Northern customs—which -Miss Edith found very strange and -bizarre—marriage in the abstract, marriage -in the concrete as concerned with -Miss Edith, flowers, Corunna, Major Cass, -milk-shakes, and many other subjects. -The girl was a confirmed flirt, and Winthrop -tired of her society long before relief -came in the shape of a laughing trio borne -into sight behind a jogging gray mule. After -supper they played hearts, after a fashion -introduced by Miss Bartram. Whoever<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -held the queen of spades when a game was -ended received a smudge on the face -from each of the other players, whose privilege -it was to rub one finger in the soot -of the fireplace and inscribe designs on the -unfortunate one’s countenance. As the -queen of spades and Major Cass developed -an affinity early in the evening the latter -was a strange and fearsome sight when -the party broke up. The Major was to -take Miss Edith back to town with him, and -the latter entered the buggy to a chorus of -remonstrances from the other girls.</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t you go with him!” cried -Rosa. “Your face will be a perfect sight -by the time you reach home!”</p> - -<p>“I really think, Major,” laughed Winthrop, -“that maybe you’d better wash the -side of your face next to Miss Bartram.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you-all worry so much,” responded -the Major. “Miss Edith isn’t -saying anything, is she? She knows it’s -dark and no one’s going to see her face -when she gets home. I don’t know what’s -coming to the ladies these days. When I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -was younger they didn’t let a little thing -like a grain of smut interfere with a kiss -or two.”</p> - -<p>“Then don’t you let him have more than -two, Edith,” said Holly. “You heard -what he said.”</p> - -<p>“Merely a figure of speech, ladies,” replied -the Major. “I’ve heard there wasn’t -such a thing as a single kiss and I reckon -there ain’t such a thing as a pair of ’em; -eh, Mr. Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“Always come by the dozen, as I understand -it,” answered Winthrop.</p> - -<p>Miss Edith gave a shriek.</p> - -<p>“I’m powerful glad I’m not riding home -with you, Mr. Winthrop!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it washes off quite easily, really!”</p> - -<p>The buggy trundled out of sight around -the corner of the drive to an accompaniment -of laughter and farewells. Miss -Rosa was to spend the night at Waynewood, -and she and Holly and Winthrop -returned to the joggling-board, the girls -spreading wraps over their shoulders. -There were clouds in the sky, and the air<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span> -held promise of rain. Holly was somewhat -silent and soon dropped out of the conversation -altogether. Winthrop and Rosa -talked of books. Neither, perhaps, was a -great reader, but they had read some books -in common and these they discussed. Winthrop -liked Miss Rosa far better than Miss -Bartram. She was small, pretty in a soft-featured -way, quiet of voice and manner, -and all-in-all very girlish and sweet. She -was a few months younger than Holly. -She lived with her brother, Phaeton Carter, -on his plantation some eight miles out -on the Quitman road. Her parents were -dead, but before their deaths, she told him -wistfully, she had been all through the -North and knew Washington well. Her -father had served as Representative for -two terms. She aroused Winthrop’s sympathies; -there seemed so little ahead of -her; marriage perhaps some day with one -of their country neighbors, and after that -a humdrum existence without any of the -glad things her young heart craved. His -sympathy showed in his voice, which could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -be very soft and caressing when it wanted -to, and if Rosa dreamed a little that night -of an interesting Northerner with sympathetic -voice and eyes it wasn’t altogether -her fault. Meanwhile they were getting on -very well, so well that they almost forgot -Holly’s existence. But they were reminded -of it very suddenly. Holly jumped -off the board and seized Rosa by the hand.</p> - -<p>“Bed time,” she announced, shortly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Holly!” cried the girl, in dismay. -“Why, it can’t be half-past ten yet!”</p> - -<p>“It’s very late,” declared Holly, severely. -“Come along!”</p> - -<p>Rosa allowed herself to be dragged off -the seat and into the house. Winthrop followed. -At the foot of the stairs he said -good-night, shaking hands as the custom -was.</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Mr. Winthrop,” said -Rosa, regretfully, smiling a trifle shyly at -him across the rail.</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Miss Carter. We’ll settle -our discussion when there is no ogress -about to drag you away. Good-night, Miss<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -Holly. I hope there’ll be many, many -more birthdays as pleasant as this one.”</p> - -<p>“Good-night,” answered Holly, carelessly, -her hand lying limply in his. “I’m -not going to have any more birthdays—ever; -I don’t like birthdays.” The glance -which accompanied the words was hard, -antagonistic. “Will you please lock the -door, Mr. Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” thought Winthrop, as he -made his way to his room. “She’s only -a child, and a child’s friendship is very -jealous. I should have remembered that.”</p> - -<div class="figleft" id="i_p204"> - <img src="images/i_p204.jpg" alt="Hunting" title="Hunting"> -</div> - -<p>Miss Rosa returned to Bellair the next -afternoon, and with her departure Holly’s -spirits returned. Winthrop smiled and -sighed at the same time. It was all so -palpable, so childish and—so sweet. There -was the disturbing thought. Why should -he find his heart warming at the contemplation -of Holly’s tiny fit of jealousy? -Was he really going to make a fool of himself -and spoil their pleasant comradeship -by falling in love with her? What arrant -nonsense! It was the silly romantic atmosphere<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -that was doing the mischief! -Hang it all, a man could fall in love with -an Alaskan totem-pole here if he was in -company with it for half an hour! There -were three very excellent reasons why he -mustn’t let himself fall in love with Holly -Wayne, and it was plainly his duty to keep -a watch on himself. With that thought in -mind he spent more time away from -Waynewood than theretofore, throwing -himself on the companionship of the Major, -who was always delighted to have him -drop in at his office or at the Palmetto -House, where he lived; or riding out to -Sunnyside to spend the day with Colonel -Byers. The Major had loaned him a shotgun, -an antiquated 12-bore, and with this -and ’Squire Parish’s red setter Lee, he -spent much time afield and had some excellent -sport with the quail. Holly accused him -many times of being tired of her company, -adding once that she was sorry she wasn’t -as entertaining as Rosa Carter, whereupon -Winthrop reiterated his vows of fealty, but -declared that his lazy spell had passed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span> -that he was at last acclimated and no -longer satisfied with sweet inaction. And -Holly professed to believe him, but in her -heart was sure that the fault lay with her -and decided that when she was married to -Julian she would make him take her travelling -everywhere so that she could talk as -well as Rosa.</p> - -<div class="figleft" id="i_p206"> - <img src="images/i_p206.jpg" alt="December rains" title="December rains"> -</div> - -<p>December came in with a week of rainy -days, during which the last of the roses -were beaten from their stalks and the garden -drooped dank and disconsolate. Blue -violets, moist and fragrant under their -dripping leaves, were the only blooms the -garden afforded those days. Holly, to -whose pagan spirit enforced confinement -in-doors brought despair, took advantage -of every lift of the clouds to don a linen -cluster, which she gravely referred to as -her rain-coat, and her oldest sun-bonnet, -and get out amidst the drenched foliage. -Those times she searched the violet-beds -and returned wet and triumphant to the -house. Winthrop coming back from a -tramp to town one afternoon rounded the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span> -curve of the carriage-road just as she regained -the porch.</p> - -<p>“Violets?” he asked, his eyes travelling -from the little cluster of blossoms and -leaves in her hand to the soft pink of her -cool, moist cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Yes, for the guest chamber,” answered -Holly.</p> - -<p>“You are expecting a visitor?” he asked, -his thoughts turning to Julian Wayne.</p> - -<p>“Stupid!” said Holly. “Your room is -the guest room. Didn’t you know it? -Wait, please, and I’ll put them in water for -you.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p207"> - <img src="images/i_p207.jpg" alt="Mr. Winthrop's room" title="Mr. Winthrop's room"> -</div> - -<p>She came back while Winthrop was taking -off his rain-coat. The violets were -nodding over the rim of a little glass. -Winthrop thanked her and bore them up-stairs. -The next morning Holly came -from her Aunt’s room, the door of which -was opposite Winthrop’s across the broad -hall. His door was wide open and on the -bureau stood the violets well in the angle -of a two-fold photograph frame of crimson -leather. Holly paused in the middle of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> -the hall and looked. It was difficult to see -the photographs, but one was the likeness -of a child, while the other, in deeper -shadow, seemed to be that of a woman. -She had never been in the room since Winthrop -had taken possession, but this morning -the desire to enter was strong. She -listened, glancing apprehensively at the -closed door of her Aunt’s room. There -was no danger from that direction, and she -knew that Winthrop had gone to the village.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> -Fearsomely, with thumping heart -and cheeks that alternately paled and -flushed, she stole across the floor to the -bureau. Clasping her hands behind her, -lest they should unwittingly touch something, -she leaned over and examined the -two portraits. The one on the left was -that of a young woman of perhaps twenty-two -years. So beautiful was the smiling -oval face with its great dark eyes that -Holly almost gasped as she looked. The -dress, of white shimmering satin, was cut -low, and the shoulders and neck were perfect. -A rope of small pearls encircled the -round throat and in the light hair, massed -high on the head, an aigrette tipped with -pearls lent a regal air to beauty. Holly -looked long, sighing she scarcely knew -why. Finally she drew her eyes away and -examined the other photograph, that of a -sturdy little chap of four or five years, his -feet planted wide apart and his chubby -hands holding tight to the hoop that -reached to his breast. Round-faced, grave-eyed -and curly-haired, he was yet a veritable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -miniature of Winthrop. But the eyes -were strongly like those in the other picture, -and Holly had no doubts as to the -identity of each subject. Holly drew away, -gently restored a fallen violet, and hurried -guiltily from the room.</p> - -<p>Winthrop did not return for dinner that -day, but sent a note by a small colored boy -telling them that he was dining with the -Major. Consequently the two ladies were -alone. When the dessert came on Miss -India said:</p> - -<p>“I think Mr. Winthrop would relish -some of this clabber for his supper, Holly. -It will do him good. I’ll put it in the safe, -my dear, and don’t let me forget to get it -out for him this evening.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t reckon he cares much for clabber, -Auntie.”</p> - -<p>“Not care for clabber! Nonsense, my -dear; everyone likes clabber. Besides, it’s -just what he ought to have after taking -dinner at the hotel; I don’t reckon they’ll -give him a thing that’s fit to eat. When -your father was alive he took me to Augusta<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> -with him once and we stopped at a -hotel there, and I assure you, Holly, there -wasn’t a thing I could touch! Such tasteless -trash you never saw! I always pity -folks that have to live at hotels, and I do -wish the Major would go to Mrs. Burson’s -for his meals.”</p> - -<p>“But the Bursons live mighty poorly, -Auntie.”</p> - -<p>“Because they have to, my child. If the -Major went there Mrs. Burson could spend -more on her table. She has one of the best -cooks in the town.” Holly made no reply -and presently Miss India went on: “Have -you noticed,” she asked, “how Mr. Winthrop -has improved since he came here, -Holly?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Auntie. He says himself that he’s -much better. He was wondering the other -day whether it wasn’t time to stop taking -the medicine.”</p> - -<p>“The tonic? Sakes, no! Why, that’s -what’s holding him up, my dear, although -he doesn’t realize it. I reckon he’s a much -sicker man than he thinks he is.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span></p> - -<p>“He appears to be able to get around -fairly well,” commented Holly. “He’s always -off somewhere nowadays.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I’m afraid he’s overdoing it, -my dear. I must speak to him about it.”</p> - -<p>“Then we mightn’t get any more quail -or doves, Auntie.”</p> - -<p>“It would be just as well. Why he -wants to kill the poor defenceless creatures -I don’t see.”</p> - -<p>“But you know you love doves, Auntie,” -laughed Holly.</p> - -<p>“Well, maybe I do; but it isn’t right to -kill them, <em>I</em> know.”</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t it seem strange,” asked Holly -presently, her eyes on the bread she was -crumbling between her fingers, “that Mr. -Winthrop never says anything about his -wife?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve never yet heard him say he had a -wife,” answered Miss India.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but we know that he has. Uncle -Major said so.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t reckon the Major knows very -much about it. Maybe his wife’s dead.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Holly, thoughtfully. Then: -“No, I don’t think she could be dead,” she -added, with conviction. “Do you—do you -reckon he has any children Auntie?”</p> - -<p>“Sakes, child, how should I know? It’s -no concern of ours, at any rate.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon we can wonder, though. And -it is funny he never speaks of her.”</p> - -<p>“Northerners are different,” said Miss -India sagely. “I reckon a wife doesn’t -mean much to them, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think Mr. Winthrop is nice, -Auntie?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen men I liked better and a heap -I liked worse,” replied her Aunt, briefly. -“But I’ll say one thing for Mr. Winthrop,” -she added, as she arose from her -chair and drew her shawl more closely -around her shoulders, “he has tact; I’ve -never heard him allude to the War. Tact -and decency,” she murmured, as she picked -her keys from the table. “Bring the -plates, Phœbe.”</p> - -<p>Four Sundays passed without the appearance -of Julian. Winthrop wondered.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span> -“Either,” he reflected, “they have had a -quarrel or he is mighty sure of her. And -it can’t be a quarrel, for she gets letters -from him at least once a week. Perhaps -he is too busy at his work to spare the -time, although——” Winthrop shook his -head. He had known lovers who would -have made the time.</p> - -<p>The rainy weather passed northward -with its draggled skirts, and a spell of -warm days ushered in the Christmas season. -The garden smiled again in the sunlight, -and a few of the roses opened new -blooms. Winthrop took a trip to Jacksonville -a week before Christmas, spent two -days there, and purchased modest gifts for -Miss India, Holly, and the Major. The -former had flatteringly commissioned him -to make a few purchases for her, and Winthrop, -realizing that this showed a distinct -advance in his siege of the little lady’s liking, -spent many anxious moments in the -performance of the task. When he returned -he was graciously informed that he -had purchased wisely and well. Christmas<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -fell on Saturday that year and Julian put -in an appearance Friday evening. Christmas -morning they went to church and at -two o’clock sat down to a dinner at which -were present besides the family and Winthrop, -Major Cass, Edith Bartram, and -Mr. and Mrs. Burson. Burson kept the livery -stable and was a tall, awkward, self-effacing -man of fifty or thereabouts, who -some twenty years before had in an unaccountable -manner won the toast of the -county for his bride. A measure of Mrs. -Burson’s former beauty remained, but on -the whole she was a faded, depressing little -woman, worn out by a long struggle -against poverty.</p> - -<p>The Major, who had been out in the -country in the morning, arrived late and -very dusty and went up to Winthrop’s -room to wash before joining the others. -When he came down and, after greeting -the assembled party, tucked his napkin under -his ample chin, he turned to Winthrop -with twinkling eyes.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Winthrop, sir,” he said, “I came<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> -mighty near not getting out of your room -again, sir. I saw that picture on your bureau -and fell down and worshipped. Gad, -sir, I don’t know when I’ve seen a more -beautiful woman, outside of the present -array! Yes, sir, I came mighty near staying -right there and feasting my eyes instead -of my body, sir. And a fine-looking -boy, too, Mr. Winthrop. Your family, I -reckon, sir?”</p> - -<p>“My wife and son,” answered Winthrop, -gravely.</p> - -<p>The conversation had died abruptly and -everyone was frankly attentive.</p> - -<p>“I envy you, sir, ’pon my word, I do!” -said the Major emphatically, between -spoonfuls of soup. “As handsome a woman -and boy as ever I saw, sir. They are -well, I trust, Mr. Winthrop?”</p> - -<p>“The boy died shortly after that portrait -was taken,” responded Winthrop. -There were murmurs of sympathy.</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear, dear,” said the Major, laying -down his spoon and looking truly distressed. -“I had no idea, Mr. Winthrop——!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -You’ll pardon me, sir, for my—my -unfortunate curiosity.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t apologize, Major,” answered -Winthrop, smilingly. “It has been six -years, and I can speak of it now with some -degree of equanimity. He was a great boy, -that son of mine; sometimes I think that -maybe the Lord was a little bit envious.”</p> - -<p>“The picture of you, sir,” said the Major, -earnestly. “But your lady, sir? She -is—ah—well, I trust?”</p> - -<p>“Quite, I believe,” answered Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“I am glad to hear it. I trust some day, -sir, you’ll bring her down and give us the -pleasure of meeting her.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” Winthrop replied, quietly.</p> - -<p>Holly began an eager conversation with -Julian and the talk became general, the -Major holding forth on the subject of Cuban -affairs, which were compelling a good -deal of attention in that winter of 1897–8. -After dinner they went out to the porch, -but not before the Major had, unnoticed, -stationed himself at the dining-room door -with a sprig of mistletoe in his hand.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span> -Holly and Julian reached the door together -and with a portentous wink at Julian <a href="#i_fp216">the -Major held the little bunch of leaves and -berries over Holly’s head</a>. Winthrop, the -last to leave the room, saw what followed. -Julian imprisoned Holly’s hands in front -of her, leaned across her shoulder and -pressed a kiss on her cheek. There was a -little cry of alarm from Holly, drowned by -the Major’s chuckle and Julian’s triumphant -laugh. Holly’s eyes caught sight of -the mistletoe, the blood dyed her face, and -she smiled uncertainly.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp216"> - <img src="images/i_fp216.jpg" alt="" title=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_217">THE MAJOR HELD THE LITTLE BUNCH OF LEAVES AND BERRIES OVER -HOLLY’S HEAD</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“He caught you, my dear,” chuckled the -Major.</p> - -<p>“You’re a traitor, Uncle Major,” she -answered, indignantly. With a quick gesture -she seized the mistletoe from his grasp -and threw it across the room. As she -turned, her head in air, her eyes encountered -Winthrop’s and their glances clung -for an instant. He wondered afterwards -what she had read in his eyes for her own -grew large and startled ere the lids fell -over them and she turned and ran out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span> -through the hall. The rest followed laughing. -Winthrop ascended to his room, -closed his door, lighted a pipe and sat -down at an open window. From below -came the sound of voices, rising and falling, -and the harsh song of a red-bird in the -magnolia-tree. From the back of the -house came the sharp explosions of firecrackers, -and Winthrop knew that Young -Tom was beatifically happy. The firecrackers -had been Winthrop’s “Chrismus -gif.” But his thoughts didn’t remain long -with the occupants of the porch or with -Young Tom, although he strove to keep -them there. There was something he must -face, and so, tamping the tobacco down in -his pipe with his finger, he faced it.</p> - -<p>He was in love with Holly.</p> - -<p>The sudden rage of jealousy which had -surged over him down there in the dining-room -had opened his eyes. He realized -now that he had been falling in love with -her, deeper and deeper every day, ever -since his arrival at Waynewood. He had -been blinding himself with all sorts of excuses,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span> -but to-day they were no longer convincing. -He had made a beastly mess of -things. If he had only had the common -sense to look the situation fairly in the face -a month ago! It would have been so simple -then to have beat a retreat. Now he -might retreat as far as he could go without -undoing the damage. Well, thank Heaven, -there was no harm done to anyone save -himself! Then he recalled the startled -look in Holly’s brown eyes and wondered -what she had read in his face. Could she -have guessed? Nonsense; he was too old -to parade his emotions like a school-boy. -Doubtless he had looked annoyed, disgusted, -and Holly had seen it and probably -resented it. That was all. Had he unwittingly -done anything to cause her to suspect? -He strove to remember. No, the -secret was safe. He sighed with relief. -Thank Heaven for that! If she ever -guessed his feelings what a fool she would -think him, what a middle-aged, sentimental -ass! And how she would laugh! But no, -perhaps she wouldn’t do just that; she was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> -too kind-hearted; but she would be amused. -Winthrop’s cheeks burned at the thought.</p> - -<p>Granted all this, what was to be done? -Run away? To what end? Running away -wouldn’t undo what was done. Now that -he realized what had happened he could -keep guard on himself. None suspected, -none need ever suspect, Holly least of all. -It would be foolish to punish himself unnecessarily -for what, after all, was no offense. -No; he would stay at Waynewood; -he would see Holly each day, and he would -cure himself of what, after all, was—could -be—only a sentimental attachment evolved -from propinquity and idleness. Holly was -going to marry Julian; and even were she -not——. Winthrop glanced toward the -photograph frame on the bureau—there -were circumstances which forbade him entering -the field. Holly was not for him. -Surely if one thoroughly realized that a -thing was unobtainable he must cease to -desire it in time. That was common sense. -He knocked the ashes from his pipe and -arose.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p> - -<p>“That’s it, Robert, my boy,” he muttered. -“Common sense. If you’ll just -stick to that you’ll come out all right. -There’s nothing like a little, hard, plain -common sense to knock the wind out of -sentiment. Common sense, my boy, common -sense!”</p> - -<p>He joined the others on the porch and -conducted a very creditable flirtation with -Miss Edith until visitors began to arrive, -and the big bowl of eggnog was set in the -middle of the dining-room table and banked -with holly. After dark they went into town -and watched the fireworks on the green surrounding -the school-house. Holly walked -ahead with Julian, and Winthrop thought -he had never seen her in better spirits. She -almost seemed to avoid him that evening, -but that was perhaps only his fancy. -Returning, there were only Holly and Julian -and Winthrop, for Miss Bartram and -the Bursons returned to their homes and -the Major had been left at Waynewood -playing bezique with Miss India. For -awhile the conversation lagged, but Winthrop<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -set himself the task of being agreeable -to Julian and by the time they reached -the house that youth had thawed out and -was treating Winthrop with condescending -friendliness. Winthrop left the young pair -on the porch and joined the Major and -Miss India in the parlor, watching their -play and hiding his yawns until the Major -finally owned defeat.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XI">XI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Holly had grown older within the last -two months, although no one but Aunt India -realized it. It was as though her eighteenth -birthday had been a sharp line of -division between girlhood and womanhood. -It was not that Holly had altered either in -appearance or actions; she was the same -Holly, gay or serious, tender or tyrannical, -as the mood seized her; but the change was -there, even if Miss India couldn’t quite put -her finger on it. Perhaps she was a little -more sedate when she was sedate, a little -more thoughtful at all times. She read less -than she used to, but that was probably because -there were fewer moments when she -was alone. She was a little more careful -of her attire than she had been, but that -was probably because there was more reason -to look well. Miss India felt the -change rather than saw it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span></p> - -<p>I have said that no one save Miss India -realized it, but that is not wholly true. For -Holly herself realized it in a dim, disquieting -way. The world in which she had spent -her first eighteen years seemed, as she -looked back at it, strangely removed from -the present one. There had been the same -sky and sunshine, the same breezes and -flowers, the same pleasures and duties, and -yet there had been a difference. It was -as though a gauze curtain had been rolled -away; things were more distinct, sensations -more acute; the horizon was where it -always had been, but now it seemed far -more distant, giving space for so many details -which had eluded her sight before. It -was all rather confusing. At times it -seemed to Holly that she was much happier -than she had been in that old world, -and there were times when the contrary -seemed true, times when she became oppressed -with a feeling of sorrowfulness. At -such moments her soft mouth would droop -at the corners and her eyes grow moist; -life seemed very tragic in some indefinable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> -way. And yet, all the while, she knew in -her heart that this new world—this -broader, vaster, clearer world—was the -best; that this new life, in spite of its tragedy -which she felt but could not see, was -the real life. Sorrow bit sharper, joy was -more intense, living held a new, fierce zest. -Not that she spent much time in introspection, -or worried her head with over-much -reasoning, but all this she felt confusedly -as one groping in a dark room feels unfamiliar -objects without knowing what they -may be or why they are there. But Holly’s -groping was not for long. The door of understanding -opened very suddenly, and the -light of knowledge flooded in upon her.</p> - -<div class="figleft" id="i_p226"> - <img src="images/i_p226.jpg" alt="Uncle Ran" title="Uncle Ran"> -</div> - -<p>January was a fortnight old and Winter -held sway. The banana-trees drooped -blackened and shrivelled, the rose-beds -were littered with crumpled leaves, and -morning after morning a film of ice, no -thicker than a sheet of paper, but still real -ice, covered the water-pail on its shelf on -the back porch. Uncle Ran groaned with -rheumatism as he laid the morning fires,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> -and held his stiffened fingers to the blaze -as the fat pine hissed and spluttered. To -Winthrop it was the veriest farce of a winter, -but the other inhabitants of Waynewood -felt the cold keenly. Aunt India kept -to her room a great deal, and when she did -appear down-stairs she seemed tinier than -ever under the great gray shawl. Her face -wore a pinched and anxious expression, as -though she were in constant fear of actually -freezing to death.</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand what has gotten -into our winters,” she said one day at dinner, -drawing her skirts forward so they -would not be scorched by the fire which -blazed furiously at her back. “They used -to be at least temperate. Now one might -as well live in Russia or Nova Zembla! -Phœbe, you forgot to put the butter on the -hearth and it’s as hard as a rock. You’re -getting more forgetful every day.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p227"> - <img src="images/i_p227.jpg" alt="Removing the greenery" title="Removing the greenery"> -</div> - -<p>It was in the middle of the month, one -forenoon when the cold had moderated so -that one could sit on the porch in the sunshine -without a wrap and when the southerly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -breeze held a faint, heart-stirring -promise of Spring—a promise speedily -broken,—that Winthrop came back to the -house from an after-breakfast walk over -the rutted clay road and found Holly removing -the greenery from the parlor walls -and mantel. She had spread a sheet in the -middle of the room and was tossing the -dried and crackling holly and the gummy -pine plumes onto it in a heap. As Winthrop -hung up his hat and looked in upon -her she was standing on a chair and, somewhat -red of face, was striving to reach -the bunch of green leaves and red berries -above the half-length portrait of her -father.</p> - -<p>“You’d better let me do that,” suggested -Winthrop, as he joined her.</p> - -<p>“No,” answered Holly, “I’m——going -to——get it——There!”</p> - -<p>Down came the greenery with a shower -of dried leaves and berries, and down -jumped Holly with a triumphant laugh.</p> - -<p>“Please move the chair over there,” she -directed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span></p> - -<p>Winthrop obeyed, and started to step up -onto it, but Holly objected.</p> - -<p>“No, no, no,” she cried, anxiously. -“I’m going to do it myself. It makes me -feel about a foot high and terribly helpless -to have folks reach things down for me.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop smiled and held out his hand -while she climbed up.</p> - -<p>“There,” said Holly. “Now I’m going -to reach that if I—have to—stretch myself—out -of—shape!” It was a long reach, -but she finally accomplished it, laid hold of -one of the stalks and gave a tug. The tug -achieved the desired result, but it also -threw Holly off her balance. To save herself -she made a wild clutch at Winthrop’s -shoulder, and as the chair tipped over she -found herself against his breast, his arms -about her and her feet dangling impotently -in air. Perhaps he held her there an instant -longer than was absolutely necessary, -and in that instant perhaps his heart beat -a little faster than usual, his arms held her -a little tighter than before, and his eyes -darkened with some emotion not altogether<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> -anxiety for her safety. Then he placed her -very gently on her feet and released her.</p> - -<p>“You see,” he began with elaborate unconcern, -“I told you——”</p> - -<p>Then he caught sight of her face and -stopped. It was very white, and in the -fleeting glimpse he had of her eyes they -seemed vast and dark and terrified.</p> - -<p>“It startled you!” he said, anxiously.</p> - -<p>She stood motionless for a moment, her -head bent, her arms hanging straight. -Then she turned and walked slowly toward -the door.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said, in a low voice; “it——I -feel——faint.”</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p231"> - <img src="images/i_p231.jpg" alt="“I feel faint.”" title="“I feel faint.”"> -</div> - -<p>Very deliberately she climbed the stairs, -passed along the hall, and entered her -room. She closed the door behind her and -walked, like one in a dream, to the window. -For several minutes she stared unseeingly -out into the sunlit world, her hands -strained together at her breast and her -heart fluttering chokingly. The door of -understanding had opened and the sudden -light bewildered her. But gradually things<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> -took shape. With a little sound that was -half gasp, half moan, she turned and fell -to her knees at the foot of her bed, her -tightly-clasped hands thrown out across -the snowy quilt and her cheek pillowed on -one arm. Tears welled slowly from under -her closed lids and seeped scorchingly -through her sleeve.</p> - -<p>“Don’t let me, dear God,” she sobbed, -miserably, “don’t let me! You don’t want -me to be unhappy, do you? You know he’s -a married man and a Northerner! And I -didn’t know, truly I didn’t know until just -now! It would be wicked to love him, -wouldn’t it? And you don’t want me to be -wicked, do you? And you’ll take him -away, dear God, where I won’t see him -again, ever, ever again? You know I’m -only just Holly Wayne and I need your -help. You mustn’t let me love him! You -mustn’t, you mustn’t....”</p> - -<p>She knelt there a long time, feeling very -miserable and very wicked,—wicked because -in spite of her prayers, which had -finally trailed off into mingled sobs and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> -murmurs, her thoughts flew back to Winthrop -and her heart throbbed with a -strange, new gladness. Oh, how terribly -wicked she was! It seemed to her that she -had lied to God! She had begged Him to -take Winthrop away from her and yet her -thoughts sought him every moment! She -had only to close her own eyes to see his, -deep and dark, looking down at her, and to -read again their wonderful, fearsome message; -to feel again the straining clasp of -his arms about her and the hurried thud -of his heart against her breast! She felt -guilty and miserable and happy.</p> - -<p>She wondered if God would hear her -prayer and take him away -from her. And suddenly she -realized what that would -mean. Not to see him -again—ever! No, no; she -couldn’t stand that! God must help her -to forget him, but He mustn’t take him -away. After all, was it so horribly wicked -to care for him as long as she never let -him know? Surely no one would suffer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> -save herself? And she—well, she could -suffer. It came to her, then, that perhaps -in this new world of hers it was a woman’s -lot to suffer.</p> - -<p>Her thoughts flew to her mother. She -wondered if such a thing had ever happened -to her. What would she have done -had she been in Holly’s place? Holly’s -tears came creeping back again; she -wanted her mother very much just -then....</p> - -<p>As she sat at the open window, the faint -and measured tramp of steps along the -porch reached her. It was Winthrop, she -knew. And at the very thought her heart -gave a quick throb that was at once a joy -and a pain. Oh, why couldn’t people be -just happy in such a beautiful world? -Why need there be disappointments, and -heartaches? If only she could go to him -and explain it all! He would take her hand -and look down at her with that smiling -gravity of his, and she would say quite -fearlessly: “I love you very dearly. I -can’t help it. It isn’t my fault, nor yours.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -But you must make it easy for me, dear. -You must go away now, but not for ever; I -couldn’t stand that. Sometimes you must -come back and see me. And when you are -away you will know that I love you more -than anything in the world, and I will know -that you love me. Of course, we must -never speak again of our love, for that -would be wicked. And you wouldn’t want -me to be wicked. We will be such good, -good friends always. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>You see, it never occurred to her that -Winthrop’s straining arms, his quickening -heart-throbs, and the words of his eyes, -might be only the manifestation of a quite -temporal passion. She judged him by herself, -and all loves by that which her father -and mother had borne for each other. -There were still things in this new world -of hers which her eyes had not discerned.</p> - -<p>She wondered if Winthrop had understood -her emotion after he had released -her from his arms. For an instant, she -hoped that he had. Then she clasped her -hands closely to her burning cheeks and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> -thought that if he had she would never have -the courage to face him again! She hoped -and prayed that he had not guessed.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, regretfully for the pain she -must cause him, she recollected Julian. -She could never marry him now. She -would never, never marry anyone. She -would be an old maid, like Aunt India. -The prospect seemed rather pleasing than -otherwise. With such a precious love in -her heart she could never be quite lonely, -no matter if she lived to be very, very old! -She wondered if Aunt India had ever loved. -And just then Phœbe’s voice called her -from below and she went to the door and -answered. She bathed her hot cheeks and -wet eyes in the chill water, and with a long -look about the big square room, which -seemed now to have taken on the sacredness -of a temple of confession, she went -down-stairs.</p> - -<p>Winthrop had not guessed. She knew -that at once when she saw him. He was -eagerly anxious about her, and blamed -himself for her fright.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span></p> - -<p>“I ought never to have let you try such -foolishness,” he said, savagely. “You -might have hurt yourself badly.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” laughed Holly, “but you were -there to catch me!”</p> - -<p>There was a caressing note in her voice -that thrilled him with longing to live over -again that brief moment in the parlor. -But he only answered, and awkwardly -enough, since his nerves were taut: “Then -please see that I’m there before you try it -again.”</p> - -<p>They sat down at table with Miss India, -to whom by tacit consent no mention was -made of the incident, and chattered gayly -of all things save the one which was crying -at their lips to be spoken. And Holly kept -her secret well.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XII">XII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>January and Winter had passed together. -February was nearly a week old. -Already the garden was astir. The violet-beds -were massed with blue, and the green -spikes of the jonquils showed tiny buds. -There was a new balminess in the air, a -new languor in the ardent sunlight. The -oaks were tasseling, the fig-trees were -gowning themselves in new green robes of -Edenic simplicity, the clumps of Bridal -Wreath were sprinkled with flecks of white -that promised early flowering and the -pomegranates were unfolding fresh leaves. -On the magnolia burnished leaves of tender -green squirmed free from brown sheaths -like moths from their cocoons. The south -wind blew soft and fresh from the Gulf, -spiced with the aroma of tropic seas. -Spring was dawning over Northern Florida.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span></p> - -<p>It was Saturday afternoon, and Holly -was perched in the fig-tree at the end of -the porch, one rounded arm thrown back -against the dusky trunk to pillow her head, -one hand holding her forgotten book, one -slender ankle swinging slowly like a dainty -pendulum from under the hem of her skirt. -Her eyes were on the green knoll where -the oaks threw deep shadow over the red-walled -enclosure, and her thoughts wandered -like the blue-jay that flitted restlessly -through garden and grove. Life was a -turbid stream, these days, filled with perplexing -swirls—a stream that rippled with -laughter in the sunlight, and sighed in its -shadowed depths, and all the while flowed -swiftly, breathlessly on toward—what?</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p239"> - <img src="images/i_p239.jpg" alt="Julian Wayne on horseback" title="Julian Wayne on horseback"> -</div> - -<p>The sound of a horse’s hoofs on the road -aroused Holly from her dreams. She -lifted her head and listened. The hoof-beats -slackened at the gate, and then drew -nearer up the curving drive. The trees -hid the rider, however, and Holly could -only surmise his identity. It could -scarcely be Mr. Winthrop, for he had gone<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> -off in the Major’s buggy early in the forenoon -for an all-day visit to Sunnyside. -Then it must be Julian, although it was unlike -him to come so early. She slipped -from her seat in the tree and walked toward -the steps just as horse and rider -trotted into sight. It was Julian—Julian -looking very handsome and eager as he -threw himself from the saddle, drew the -reins over White Queen’s head and strode -toward the girl.</p> - -<p>“Howdy, Holly?” he greeted. “Didn’t -expect to see me so early, I reckon.” He -took her hand, drew her to him, and had -kissed her cheek before she thought to deny -him. She had grown so used to having him -kiss her when he came and departed, and -his kisses meant so little, that she forgot. -She drew herself away gravely.</p> - -<p>“I’ll call Uncle Ran,” she said.</p> - -<p>“All right, Holly.” Julian threw himself -on to the steps and lighted a cigarette, -gazing appreciatively about him. How -pretty it was here at Waynewood! Some -day he meant to own it. He was the only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> -male descendant of the old family, and it -was but right and proper that the place -should be his. In a year or two that interloping -Yankee would be glad enough to -get rid of it. Then he would marry Holly, -succeed to the Old Doctor’s practice -and—— Suddenly he recollected that odd -note of Holly’s and drew it from his -pocket. Nonsense, of course, but it had -worried him a bit at first. She had been -piqued, probably, because he had not been -over to see her. He flicked the letter with -his finger and laughed softly. The idea of -Holly releasing him from their engagement! -Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure -that there was any engagement; for the -last three years there had been a tacit understanding -that some day they were to be -married and live at Waynewood, but Julian -couldn’t remember that he had ever out-and-out -asked Holly to marry him. He -laughed again. That was a joke on Holly. -He would ask her how she could break -what didn’t exist. And afterwards he -would make sure that it did exist. He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> -no intention of losing Holly. No, indeed! -She was the only girl in the world for him. -He had met heaps of pretty girls, but never -one who could hold a candle to his sweetheart.</p> - -<p>Holly came back followed by Uncle Ran. -The horse was led away to the stable, and -Holly sat down on the top step at a little -distance from Julian. Julian looked -across at her, admiration and mischief in -his black eyes.</p> - -<p>“So it’s all over between us, is it, -Holly?” he asked, with a soft laugh. Holly -looked up eagerly, and bent forward with -a sudden lighting of her grave face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Julian,” she cried, “it’s all right, -then? You’re not going to care?”</p> - -<p>Julian looked surprised.</p> - -<p>“Care about what?” he asked, suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“But I explained it all in my note,” answered -Holly, sinking back against the pillar. -“I thought you’d understand, Julian.”</p> - -<p>“Are you talking about this?” he asked,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> -contemptuously, tapping the letter against -the edge of the step. “Do you mean me -to believe that you were in earnest?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, quite in earnest,” she answered, -gently.</p> - -<p>“Shucks!” said Julian. But there was a -tone of uneasiness in his contempt. “What -have I done, Holly? If it’s because I -haven’t been getting over here to see you -very often, I want you to understand that -I’m a pretty busy man these days. Thompson’s -been getting me to do more and -more of his work. Why, he never takes a -night call any more himself; passes it over -to me every time. And I can tell you that -that sort of thing is no fun, Holly. Besides,”—he -gained reassurance from his -own defence—“you didn’t seem very particular -about seeing me the last time I was -here. I reckoned that maybe you and the -Yankee were getting on pretty well without -me.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that,” said Holly. “I—I told -you in the letter, Julian. Didn’t you read -it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span></p> - -<p>“Of course I read it, but I couldn’t understand -it. You said you’d made a mistake, -and a lot of foolishness like that, and -had decided you couldn’t marry me. -Wasn’t that it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that was it—in a way,” answered -Holly. “Well, I mean it, Julian.”</p> - -<p>Julian stared across impatiently.</p> - -<p>“Now don’t be silly, Holly! Who’s been -talking about me? Has that fellow Winthrop -been putting fool notions into your -head?”</p> - -<p>“No, Julian.”</p> - -<p>“Then what—— Oh, well, I dare say -I’ll be able to stand it,” he said, petulantly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be angry, Julian, please,” begged -Holly. “I want you to understand it, -dear.”</p> - -<p>Holly indulged in endearments very seldom, -and Julian melted.</p> - -<p>“But, hang it, Holly, you talk as though -you didn’t care for me any more!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not talking so at all,” she answered, -gently. “I do care for you—a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> -heap. I always have and always will. -But I—I don’t love you as—as a girl loves -the man who is to be her husband, Julian. -I tried to explain that in my letter. You -see, we’ve always been such good friends -that it seemed sort of natural that we -should be sweethearts, and then I reckon -we just fell into thinking about getting -married. I don’t believe you ever asked -me to marry you, Julian; I—I just took it -for granted, I reckon!”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“I don’t reckon you ever did,” she persisted, -with a little smile for his polite disclaimer. -“But I’ve always thought of -marrying you, and it seemed all right until—until -lately. I don’t reckon I ever -thought much about what it meant. We’ve -always been fond of each other and so it—it -seemed all right, didn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It <em>is</em> all right, Holly,” he answered, -earnestly. He changed his seat to where -he could take her hand. “You’ve been -thinking about things too much,” he went -on. “I reckon you think that because I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> -don’t come over oftener and write poetry -to you and all that sort of thing that I don’t -love you. Every girl gets romantic notions -at some time or other, Holly, and I -reckon you’re having yours. I don’t blame -you, Sweetheart, but you mustn’t get the -notion that I don’t love you. Why, you’re -the only woman in the world for me, -Holly!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t reckon you’ve known so very -many women, Julian,” said Holly.</p> - -<p>“Haven’t I, though? Why, I met dozens -of them when I was at college.” There -was a tiny suggestion of swagger. “And -some of them were mighty clever, too, and -handsome. But there’s never been anyone -but you, Holly, never once.”</p> - -<p>Holly smiled and pressed the hand that -held hers captive.</p> - -<p>“That’s dear of you, Julian,” she answered. -“But you must get over thinking -of me—in that way.”</p> - -<p>He drew back with an angry flush on his -face and dropped her hand. There was an -instant’s silence. Then:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span></p> - -<p>“You mean you won’t marry me?” he -demanded, hotly.</p> - -<p>“I mean that I don’t love you in the -right way, Julian.”</p> - -<p>“It’s that grinning Yankee!” he cried. -“He’s been making love to you and filling -your head with crazy notions. Oh, you -needn’t deny it! I’m not blind! I’ve seen -what was going on every time I came -over.”</p> - -<p>“Julian!” she cried, rising to her feet.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have!” he went on, leaping up -and facing her. “A fine thing to do, isn’t -it?” he sneered. “Keep me dangling on -your string and all the while accept attentions -from a married man! And a blasted -Northerner, too! Mighty pleased your -father would have been!”</p> - -<p>“Julian! You forget yourself!” said -Holly, quietly. “You have no right to talk -this way to me!”</p> - -<p>“It’s you who forget yourself,” he answered, -slashing his riding-whip against -his boots. “And if I haven’t the right to -call you to account I’d like to know who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> -has! Miss Indy’s blind, I reckon, but I’m -not!”</p> - -<p>Holly’s face had faded to a white mask -from which her dark eyes flashed furiously. -But her voice, though it trembled, was quiet -and cold.</p> - -<p>“You’ll beg my pardon, Julian Wayne, -for what you’ve said before I’ll speak to -you again. Mr. Winthrop has never made -love to me in his life.”</p> - -<p>She turned toward the door.</p> - -<p>“You don’t dare deny, though, that you -love him!” cried Julian, roughly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t deny it! I won’t deny it!” -cried Holly, facing him in a blaze of wrath. -“I deny nothing to you. You have no right -to know. But if I did love Mr. Winthrop, -married though he is, I’d not be ashamed -of it. He is at least a gentleman!”</p> - -<p>She swept into the house.</p> - -<p>“By God!” whispered Julian, the color -rushing from his face. “By God! I’ll kill -him! I’ll kill him!” He staggered down -the steps, beating the air with his whip. A -moment later, Holly, sitting with clenched<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -hands and heaving breast in her room, -heard him shouting for Uncle Ran and his -horse. Ten minutes later he was riding -like a whirlwind along the Marysville road, -White Queen in an ecstasy of madness as -the whip rose and fell.</p> - -<p>But by the time the distance was half -covered Julian’s first anger had cooled, -leaving in its place a cold, bitter wrath -toward Winthrop, to whom he laid the -blame not only of Holly’s defection but of -his loss of temper and brutality. He was -no longer incensed with Holly; it was as -plain as a pikestaff that the sneaking Yankee -had bewitched her with his damned -grinning face and flattering attentions, all -the while, doubtless, laughing at her in his -sleeve! His smouldering rage blazed up -again and with a muttered oath Julian -raised his whip. But at Queen’s sudden -snort of terror he let it drop softly again, -compunction gripping him. He leaned forward -and patted the wet, white neck soothingly.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, girl,” he whispered. “I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> -was a brute to take it out on you. There, -there, easy now; quiet, quiet!”</p> - -<p>On Monday Holly received a letter from -him. It was humbly apologetic, and self-accusing. -It made no reference to Winthrop, -nor did it refer to the matter of the -broken engagement; only—</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p248"> - <img src="images/i_p248.jpg" alt="Julian writing to Holly" title="Julian writing to Holly"> -</div> - -<p>“Try and forget my words, Holly,” he -wrote, “and forgive me and let us be good -friends again just as we always have been. -I am going over to see you Saturday evening -to ask forgiveness in person, but I -shan’t bother you for more than a couple -of hours.”</p> - -<p>Holly, too, had long since repented, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span> -was anxious to forgive and be forgiven. -The thought of losing Julian’s friendship -just now when, as it seemed, she needed -friendship so much, had troubled and dismayed -her, and when his letter came she -was quite prepared to go more than halfway -to effect a reconciliation. Her answer, -written in the first flush of gratitude, -represented Holly in her softest mood, and -Julian read between the lines far more -than she had meant to convey. He folded -it up and tucked it away with the rest of -her letters and smiled his satisfaction.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p249"> - <img src="images/i_p249.jpg" alt="Holly writing to Julian" title="Holly writing to Julian"> -</div> - -<p>At Waynewood in those days life for -Holly and Winthrop was an unsatisfactory<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -affair, to say the least. Each strove to -avoid the other without seeming to do so, -with the result that each felt piqued. In -Winthrop’s case it was one thing to keep -out of Holly’s presence from motives of -caution, and quite another to find that she -was avoiding him. He believed that his -secret was quite safe, and so Holly’s apparent -dislike for his society puzzled and -disturbed him. When they were together -the former easy intimacy was absent and -in its place reigned a restlessness that -made the parting almost a relief. So affairs -stood when on the subsequent Saturday -Julian rode over to Waynewood again.</p> - -<p>It was almost the middle of February, -and the world was aglow under a spell of -warm weather that was quite unseasonable. -The garden was riotous with green -leaves and early blossoms. Uncle Ran confided -to Winthrop that “if you jes’ listens -right cahful you can hear the leaves -a-growin’ an’ the buds a-poppin’ open, -sir!” Winthrop had spent a restless day. -Physically he was as well as he had ever<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> -been, he told himself; three months at -Waynewood had worked wonders for him; -but mentally he was far from normal. Of -late he had been considering more and -more the advisability of returning North. -It was time to get back into harness. He -had no doubt of his ability to retrieve his -scattered fortune, and it was high time that -he began. And then, too, existence here at -Waynewood was getting more complex and -unsatisfactory every day. As far as Miss -India’s treatment of him was concerned, -he had only cause for congratulation, for -his siege of that lady’s heart had been as -successful as it was cunning; only that -morning she had spoken to him of Waynewood -as “your property” without any -trace of resentment; but it was very evident -that Holly had wearied of him. That -should have been salutary knowledge, -tending to show him the absurdity and -hopelessness of his passion, but unfortunately -it only increased his misery without -disturbing the cause of it. Yes, it was high -time to break away from an ungraceful position,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> -and get back to his own world—high -time to awake from dreams and face -reality.</p> - -<p>So his thoughts ran that Saturday afternoon, -as he walked slowly out from town -along the shaded road. As he came within -sight of Waynewood a horse and rider -turned in at the gate, and when Winthrop -left the oleander path and reached the sun-bathed -garden he saw that Julian and -Holly were seated together on the porch, -very deep in conversation—so interested -in each other, indeed, that he had almost -gained the steps before either of them became -aware of his presence. Holly looked -anxiously at Julian. But that youth was -on his good behavior. He arose and bowed -politely, if coldly, to Winthrop. Something -told the latter that an offer to shake -hands would not be a happy proceeding. -So he merely returned Julian’s bow as he -greeted him, remained for a moment in -conversation, and then continued on his -way up-stairs. Once in his room he lighted -a pipe and, from force of habit, sank into<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span> -a chair facing the empty fireplace. Life -to-day seemed extremely unattractive. After -ten minutes he arose, knocked out the -ashes briskly, and dragged his trunk into -the center of the room. He had made up -his mind.</p> - -<p>Supper passed pleasantly enough. Julian -was resolved to reinstall himself in -Holly’s good graces, even if it entailed being -polite to the Northerner. Holly was in -good spirits, while Winthrop yielded to an -excitement at once pleasant and perturbing. -Now that he had fully decided to return -North he found himself quite eager -to go; he wondered how he could have been -content to remain in idleness so long. Miss -India was the same as always, charming in -her simple dignity, gravely responsive to -the laughter of the others, presiding behind -the teapot with the appropriate daintiness -of a Chelsea statuette. Winthrop said -nothing of his intended departure to-morrow -noon; he would not give Julian -that satisfaction. After Julian had gone -he would inform Holly. They must be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -alone when he told her. He didn’t ask himself -why. He only knew that the blood was -racing in his veins to-night, that the air -seemed tinged with an electrical quality -that brought pleasant thrills to his heart, -and that it was his last evening at Waynewood. -One may be pardoned something on -one’s last evening.</p> - -<p>Contrary to his custom, and to all the -laws of Cupid’s Court, Winthrop joined -Julian and Holly on the porch after supper. -He did his best to make himself -agreeable and flattered himself that Holly, -at least, did not resent his presence. After -his first fit of resentment at the other’s -intrusion Julian, too, thawed out and, recollecting -his rôle, was fairly agreeable to -Winthrop. A silver moon floated above -the house and flooded the world with light. -The white walls shone like snow, and the -shadows were intensely black and abrupt. -No air stirred the sleeping leaves, and the -night was thrillingly silent, save when a -Whippoorwill sang plaintively in the -grove.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span></p> - -<p>At nine Julian arose to take his leave. -White Queen had been brought around by -Uncle Ran and was pawing the earth restively -beside the hitching-post outside the -gate at the end of the house. Doubtless -Julian expected that Winthrop would allow -him to bid Holly good-night unmolested. -But if so he reckoned without the -spirit of recklessness which controlled the -Northerner to-night. Winthrop arose with -the others and accompanied them along the -path to the gate, returning Julian’s resentful -glare with a look of smiling insouciance. -Julian unhitched White Queen and a moment -of awkward silence followed. Holly, -dimly aware of the antagonism, glanced -apprehensively from Julian to Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“That’s a fine horse you have there,” -said Winthrop, at last.</p> - -<p>“Do you think so?” answered Julian, -with a thinly-veiled sneer. “You know -something about horses, perhaps?”</p> - -<p>“Not much,” replied Winthrop, with a -good-natured laugh. “I used to ride when -I was at college.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span></p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’d like to try her?” suggested -Julian.</p> - -<p>“Thanks, no.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon you had better not,” Julian -drawled. “A horse generally knows when -you’re afraid of her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m not afraid,” said Winthrop. -“I dare say I’d manage to stick on, but it -is some time since I’ve ridden and my efforts -would only appear ridiculous to one -of your grace and ability.”</p> - -<p>“Your modesty does you credit, if your -discretion doesn’t,” replied the other, with -a disagreeable laugh. “I hadn’t done you -justice, Mr. Winthrop, it seems.”</p> - -<p>“How is that?” asked Winthrop, smilingly.</p> - -<p>“Why, it seems that you possess two -virtues I had not suspected you of having, -sir.”</p> - -<p>“You wound me, Mr. Wayne. I pride -myself on my modesty. And as for discretion——”</p> - -<p>“You doubtless find it useful at such -times as the present,” sneered Julian.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span></p> - -<p>“I really almost believe you are suspecting -me of cowardice,” said Winthrop, -pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“I really almost believe you are a mind-reader,” -mocked Julian.</p> - -<p>Their eyes met and held in the moonlight. -Julian’s face was white and -strained. Winthrop’s was smiling, but the -mouth set hard and there was a dangerous -sparkle in the eyes. Challenge met challenge. -Winthrop laughed softly.</p> - -<p>“You see, Miss Holly,” he said, turning -to her, “I am forced to exhibit my deficiencies, -after all, or stand accused of cowardice. -I pray you to mercifully turn your -eyes away.”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t,” said Holly, in a troubled -voice. “Really, Queen isn’t safe, Mr. Winthrop.”</p> - -<p>“The advice is good, sir,” drawled Julian. -“The mare isn’t safe.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, pardon me, the mare is quite safe,” -replied Winthrop, as he took the bridle -reins from Julian’s hand; “it’s I who am -not safe. But we shall see. At least, Miss<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> -Holly, credit me with the modesty which -Mr. Wayne seems to begrudge me, for here -on the verge of the sacrifice I acknowledge -myself no horseman.”</p> - -<p>He placed his foot in the stirrup and -sprang lightly enough into the saddle. -White Queen flattened her ears as she felt -a new weight on her back, but stood quite -still while Winthrop shortened the reins.</p> - -<p>“Come on, Queen,” he said. The mare -moved a step hesitatingly and shook her -head. At that moment there was a sharp -cry of warning from Holly. Julian raised -the whip in his hand and brought it down -savagely, and the mare, with a cry of terror, -flung herself across the narrow roadway -so quickly that Winthrop shot out of -the saddle and crashed against the picket -fence, to lie crumpled and still in the moonlight. -Holly was beside him in the instant -and Julian, tossing aside his whip, sprang -after her.</p> - -<p>Holly turned blazing eyes upon him.</p> - -<p>“No, no!” she cried, wildly. “You -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span>shan’t touch him! <a href="#i_fp258">Keep away! You’ve -killed him.</a> I won’t let you touch him!” -She threw one arm across Winthrop’s -breast protectingly, and with the other -sought to ward Julian away.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp258"> - <img src="images/i_fp258.jpg" alt="" title=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_259">“KEEP AWAY! YOU’VE KILLED HIM”</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“Hush!” he cried, tensely. “I must -look at him. He is only stunned. His head -struck the fence. Let me look at him.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t! I won’t!” sobbed the girl. -“You have done enough! Go for help!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be a fool!” he muttered, kneeling -beside the still form and running a -hand under the vest. “You don’t want -him to die, do you? Here, hold his head up—so; -that’s it.” There was an instant’s -silence broken only by Holly’s dry, choking -sobs. Then Julian arose briskly to his feet. -“Just as I said,” he muttered. “Stunned. -Find Uncle Ran and we’ll take him into -the house and attend to him!”</p> - -<p>“No, no! I’ll stay here,” said Holly, -brokenly. “Hurry! Hurry!”</p> - -<p>For an instant Julian hesitated, scowling -down upon her. Then, with a muttered -word, he turned abruptly and ran toward -the house. Holly, huddled against the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span> -fence with Winthrop’s head on her knee, -held tightly to one limp hand and watched -with wide, terrified eyes. The face was so -white and cold in the moonlight! There -was a little troubled frown on the forehead, -as though the soul was wondering and perplexed. -Had Julian spoken the truth? -Was he really only stunned, or was this -death that she looked on? Would they -never come? She gripped his hand in a -sudden panic of awful fear. Supposing -death came and took him away from her -while she sat there impotent! She bent -closer above him, as though to hide him, -and as she did so he gave a groan. Her -heart leaped.</p> - -<p>“Dear,” she whispered, “it’s Holly. -She wants you. You won’t die, will you? -When you know that I want you, you won’t -leave me, will you? What would I do without -you, dear? I’ve so long to live!”</p> - -<p>Footsteps hurried across the porch and -down the steps. Very gently Holly yielded -her burden to Uncle Ran, and Winthrop was -carried into the house, where Aunt India,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> -in a pink flowered wrapper, awaited them -at the head of the stairs. They bore Winthrop -into his room and laid him, still unconscious, -on his bed. Holly’s gaze clung -to the white face.</p> - -<p>“Get on Queen, Uncle Ran, and ride in -for the Old Doctor,” Julian directed. -“Tell him there’s a collar-bone to set. You -had better leave us, Holly.”</p> - -<p>“No, no!” cried Holly, new fear gripping -her heart.</p> - -<p>“Holly!” said her aunt. “Go at once, -girl. This is no place for you.” But Holly -made no answer. Her eyes were fixed on -the silent form on the bed. Julian laid his -hand on her arm.</p> - -<p>“Come,” he said. She started and tore -away from him, her eyes ablaze.</p> - -<p>“Don’t touch me!” she whispered, -hoarsely, shudderingly. “Don’t touch me, -Julian! You’ve killed him! I want never -to see you again!”</p> - -<p>“Holly!” exclaimed Miss India, astoundedly.</p> - -<p>“I am going, Auntie.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span></p> - -<p>Julian held the door open for her, looking -troubledly at her as she passed out. -But she didn’t see him. The door closed -behind her. She heard Julian’s quick -steps across the floor and the sound of -murmuring voices.</p> - -<p>A deep sob shook her from head to feet. -Falling to her knees she laid her forehead -against the frame of the door, her hands -clasping and unclasping convulsively.</p> - -<p>“Dear God,” she moaned, “I didn’t -mean this! I didn’t mean this!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter2" id="i_p262"> - <img src="images/i_p262.jpg" alt="A deep sob" title="A deep sob"> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIII">XIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The effects of striking the head against -a well-built fence may vary in severity, -ranging all the way from a simple contusion -through concussion of the brain to -a broken neck. If unconsciousness results -it may last from a fraction of a second to—eternity. -In Winthrop’s case it lasted -something less than ten minutes, at the end -of which time he awoke to a knowledge of -a dully aching head and an uncomfortable -left shoulder. Unlike some other injuries, -a broken collar-bone is a plain, open-and-above-board -affliction, with small likelihood -of mysterious complications. It is possible -for the surgeon to tell within a day or two -the period of resulting incapacity. The -Old Doctor said two weeks. Sunday morning -Uncle Ran unpacked Winthrop’s trunk, -arranging the contents in the former places -with evident satisfaction. On Monday<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span> -Winthrop was up and about the house, -quite himself save for the temporary loss -of his left arm and a certain stiffness of -his neck.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p264"> - <img src="images/i_p264.jpg" alt="Mr. Winthrop rehabilitating" title="Mr. Winthrop rehabilitating"> -</div> - -<p>Miss India was once more in her element. -As an invalid, Winthrop had been -becoming something of a disappointment, -but now he was once again in his proper -rôle. Miss India kept an anxiously watchful -eye on him, and either Uncle Ran or -Phœbe was certain to be hovering about -whenever he lifted his eyes. The number<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> -of eggnoggs and other strengthening beverages -which Winthrop was compelled to -drink during the ensuing week would be -absolutely appalling if set down in cold -print.</p> - -<p>Of Holly he caught but brief glimpses -those first days of his disability. She was -all soft solicitude, but found occupations -that kept her either at the back of the -house or in her chamber. She feared that -Winthrop was awaiting a convenient moment -when they were alone to ask her -about the accident. As a matter of fact, -he had little curiosity about it. He was -pretty certain that Julian had in some -manner frightened the horse, but he had -not heard the sound of the whip, since -Holly’s sudden cry and the mare’s instant -start had drowned it. It seemed a very -slight matter, after all. Doubtless Julian’s -rage had mastered him for the instant, and -doubtless he was already heartily ashamed -of himself. Indeed his ministrations to -Winthrop pending the arrival of the Old -Doctor had been as solicitous as friendship<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -could have demanded. Winthrop was -quite ready to let by-gones be by-gones.</p> - -<p>“Besides,” Winthrop told himself, “I -deliberately led him on to lose control of -himself. I’m as much to blame as he is. -I wasn’t in my right mind myself that -night; maybe the evening ended less disastrously -than it might have. I dare say it -was the moonlight. I’ve blamed everything -so far on the weather, and the moonlight -might as well come in for its share. -Served me right, too, for wanting to make -a holy show of myself on horseback. Oh, -I was decidedly mad that night; moon-mad, -that’s it.” He reflected a moment, -then— “The worst thing about being -knocked unconscious,” he went on, “is that -you don’t know what happens until you -come to again. Now I’d like to have looked -on at events. For instance, I’d give a -thousand dollars—if I still possess that -much—to know what Holly did or said, or -didn’t do. I think I’ll ask her.”</p> - -<p>He smiled at the idea. Then—</p> - -<p>“Why not?” he said, half aloud. “I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> -want to know; why not ask? Why, hang -it all, I will ask! And right now, too.”</p> - -<p>He arose from the chair in the shade of -the Baltimore Belle and walked to the door.</p> - -<p>“Miss Holly,” he called.</p> - -<p>“Yes?” The voice came from up-stairs.</p> - -<p>“Are you very, very busy?”</p> - -<p>“N-no, not very, Mr. Winthrop.”</p> - -<p>“Then will you grant a dying man the -grace of a few moments of your valuable -time?”</p> - -<p>There was a brief moment of hesitation, -broken by the anxious voice of Miss India.</p> - -<p>“Holly!” called her aunt, indignantly, -“go down at once and see what Mr. Winthrop -wants. I reckon Phœbe has forgotten -to take him his negus.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop smiled, and groaned. Holly’s -steps pattered across the hall and he went -back to the end of the porch, dragging a -second chair with him and placing it opposite -his own. When Holly came he pointed -to it gravely. Holly’s heart fell. Winthrop -had a right to know the truth, but it -didn’t seem fair that the duty of confessing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span> -Julian’s act should fall to her. The -cowardice of it loomed large and terrible -to her.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p268"> - <img src="images/i_p268.jpg" alt="Winthrop gathers information" title="Winthrop gathers information"> -</div> - -<p>“Miss Holly,” said Winthrop, “I am -naturally curious to learn what happened -the other night. Now, as you were an eye-witness -of the episode, I come to you for -information.”</p> - -<p>“You mean that I’ve come to you,” answered -Holly, smiling nervously.</p> - -<p>“True; I accept the correction.”</p> - -<p>“What—what do you want to know?” -asked Holly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span></p> - -<p>“All, please.”</p> - -<p>Holly’s eyes dropped, and her hands -clutched each other desperately in her lap.</p> - -<p>“I—he—oh, Mr. Winthrop, he didn’t -know what he was doing; truly he didn’t! -He didn’t think what might happen!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p269"> - <img src="images/i_p269.jpg" alt="Holly explains" title="Holly explains"> -</div> - -<p>“He? Who? Oh, you mean Julian? Of -course he didn’t think; I understand that -perfectly. And it’s of no consequence, -really, Miss Holly. He was angry; in fact,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> -I’d helped make him so; he acted on the -impulse.”</p> - -<p>“Then you knew?” wondered Holly.</p> - -<p>“Knew something was up, that’s all. I -suppose he flicked the mare with the whip; -I dare say he only wanted to start her for -me.”</p> - -<p>Holly shook her head.</p> - -<p>“No, it wasn’t that. He—he cut her -with the whip as hard as he could.” Winthrop -smiled at her tragic face and voice.</p> - -<p>“Well, as it happens there was little -harm done. I dare say he’s quite as regretful -about it now as you like. What I -want to know is what happened afterwards, -after I—dismounted.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Holly. Her eyes wandered -from Winthrop’s and the color crept -slowly into her face.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he prompted, presently. “You -are not a very good chronicler, Miss -Holly.”</p> - -<p>“Why, afterwards——oh, Julian examined -you and found that you weren’t -killed——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span></p> - -<p>“There was doubt about that, then?”</p> - -<p>“I—we were frightened. You were all -huddled up against the fence and your face -was so white——”</p> - -<p>Holly’s own face paled at the recollection. -Winthrop’s smile faded, and his -heart thrilled.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry I occasioned you uneasiness, -Miss Holly,” he said, earnestly. “Then -they carried me into the house and up to -my room, I suppose. And that was all -there was to it,” he added, regretfully and -questioningly. It had been rather tame -and uninteresting, after all.</p> - -<p>“Yes——no,” answered Holly. “I—stayed -with you while Julian went for Uncle -Ran. I thought once you were really -dead, after all. Oh, I was so—so frightened!”</p> - -<p>“He should have stayed himself,” said -Winthrop, with a frown. “It was a shame -to put you through such an ordeal.”</p> - -<p>There was a little silence. Then Holly’s -eyes went back to Winthrop’s quite fearlessly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span></p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t let him,” she said. “I was -angry. I told him he had killed you, and I -wouldn’t let him touch you—at first. I—I -was so frightened! Oh, you don’t know -how frightened I was!”</p> - -<p>She knew quite well what she was doing. -She knew that she was laying her heart -quite bare at that moment, that her voice -and eyes were telling him everything, and -that he was listening and comprehending! -But somehow it seemed perfectly right and -natural to her. Why should she treat her -love—their love—as though it was something -to be ashamed of, to hide and avoid? -Surely the very fact that they could never -be to each other as other lovers, ennobled -their love rather than degraded it!</p> - -<p>And as they looked at each other across -a little space her eyes read the answer to -their message and her heart sang happily -for a moment there in the sunlight. Then -her eyes dropped slowly before the intensity -of his look, a soft glow spread upward -into her smooth cheeks, and she smiled -very gravely and sweetly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span></p> - -<p>“I’ve told you, haven’t I!” she said, -tremulously.</p> - -<p>“Holly!” he whispered. “Holly!”</p> - -<p>He stretched his hand toward her, only -to let it fall again as the first fierce joy -gave place to doubt and discretion. He -strove to think, but his heart was leaping -and his thoughts were in wild disorder. -He wanted to fall on his knees beside her, -to take her in his arms, to make her look -at him again with those soft, deep, confessing -eyes. He wanted to whisper a thousand -endearments to her, to sigh “Holly, -Holly,” and “Holly” again, a thousand -times. But the moments ticked past, and -he only sat and held himself to his chair -and was triumphantly happy and utterly -miserable in all his being. Presently Holly -looked up at him again, a little anxiously -and very tenderly.</p> - -<p>“Are you sorry for me!” she asked, -softly.</p> - -<p>“For you and for myself, dear,” he answered, -“unless——”</p> - -<p>“Will it be very hard?” she asked.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span> -“Would it have been easier if I hadn’t—hadn’t——”</p> - -<p>“No, a thousand times no, Holly! But, -dear, I never guessed——”</p> - -<p>Holly shook her head, and laughed very -softly.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t mean you to know, I reckon; -but somehow it just—just came out. I -couldn’t help it. I reckon I ought to have -helped it, but you see I’ve never—cared -for anyone before, and I don’t know how -to act properly. Do you think I am awfully—awfully—you -know; do you?”</p> - -<p>“I think you’re the best, the dearest——” -He stopped, with something that -was almost a sob. “I can’t tell you what -I think you are, Holly; I haven’t the words, -dear.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose you ought to, anyhow,” -said Holly, thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“Holly, have I—have I been to blame?”</p> - -<p>“No,” she answered quickly. “It was -just—just me, I reckon. I prayed God that -He wouldn’t let me love you, but I reckon -He has to look after so many girls that—that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span> -care for the wrong people that He -didn’t have time to bother with Holly -Wayne. Anyhow, it didn’t seem to do -much good. Maybe, though, He wanted me -to love you—in spite of—of everything. -Do you reckon He did?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Winthrop, fiercely, “I -reckon He did. And He’s got to take the -consequences! Holly, I’m not fit for you; -I’m twenty years older than you are; I’ve -been married and I’ve had the bloom -brushed off of life, dear; but if you’ll take -me, Holly, if you’ll take me, dear——”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” Holly arose to her feet and held -a hand toward him appealingly. “Please -don’t! Please!” she cried. “Don’t spoil -it all!”</p> - -<p>“Spoil it?” he asked, wonderingly.</p> - -<p>He got slowly to his feet and moved toward -her.</p> - -<p>“You know what I mean,” said Holly, -troubledly. “I do love you, and you love -me——you do love me, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered, simply.</p> - -<p>“And we can’t be happy—that way.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span> -But we can care for each other—always—a -great deal, and not make it hard to—to——”</p> - -<p>She faltered, the tears creeping one by -one over her lids. A light broke upon -Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“But you don’t understand!” he cried.</p> - -<p>“What?” she faltered, looking up at him -anxiously, half fearfully, from swimming -eyes as he took her hand.</p> - -<p>“Dear, there’s no wrong if I——”</p> - -<p>Sounds near at hand caused him to stop -and glance around. At the gate Julian -Wayne was just dismounting from White -Queen. Holly drew her hand from Winthrop’s -and with a look, eager and wondering, -hurried in-doors just as Julian opened -the gate. Winthrop sank into his chair and -felt with trembling fingers for his cigarette-case. -Julian espied him as he mounted -the steps and walked along the porch very -stiffly and determinedly.</p> - -<div class="figright" id="i_p277"> - <img src="images/i_p277.jpg" alt="Julian apologizes" title="Julian apologizes"> -</div> - -<p>“Good-morning,” said Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, sir,” answered Julian. -“I have come to apologize for what occurred—for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span> -what I did the other night. -I intended coming before, but it was -impossible.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say anything more about it,” -replied Winthrop. “I understand. You -acted on a moment’s impulse and my poor -horsemanship did the rest. It’s really not -worth speaking of.”</p> - -<p>“On the contrary I did it quite deliberately,” -answered Julian. “I meant to do -it, sir. But I had no thought of injuring -you. I—I only wanted Queen to cut up. -If you would like satisfaction, Mr. Winthrop——”</p> - -<p>Winthrop stared.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow,” he ejaculated, “you -aren’t proposing a duel, are you?”</p> - -<p>“I am quite at your service, sir,” replied -Julian, haughtily. “If the idea of reparation -seems ridiculous to you——”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, really,” said Winthrop, -gravely and hurriedly. “It was -only that I had supposed duelling to be obsolete.”</p> - -<p>“Not among gentlemen, sir!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span></p> - -<p>“I see. Nevertheless, Mr. Wayne, I’m -afraid I shall have to refuse you. I am -hardly in condition to use either sword or -pistol.”</p> - -<p>“If that is all,” answered Julian, eagerly, -“I can put my left arm in a sling, -too. That would put us on even terms, I -reckon, sir.”</p> - -<p>Winthrop threw out his hand with a gesture -of surrender, and laughed amusedly.</p> - -<p>“I give in,” he said. “You force me to -the unromantic acknowledgment that I’ve -never used a sword, and can’t shoot a revolver -without jerking the barrel all -around.”</p> - -<p>“You find me mighty amusing, it -seems,” said Julian, hotly.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know anything more about -swords or pistols than you do, I reckon, -sir, but I’ll be mighty glad to—to——”</p> - -<p>“Cut my head off or shoot holes through -me? Thanks, but I never felt less like -departing this life than I do now, Mr. -Wayne.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span></p> - -<p>“Then you refuse?”</p> - -<p>“Unconditionally. The fact is, you -know, I, as the aggrieved party, am the -one to issue the challenge. As long as I am -satisfied with your apology I don’t believe -you have any right to insist on shooting -me.”</p> - -<p>Julian chewed a corner of his lip and -scowled.</p> - -<p>“I thought maybe you weren’t satisfied,” -he suggested hopefully.</p> - -<p>Winthrop smiled.</p> - -<p>“Quite satisfied,” he answered. “Won’t -you sit down?”</p> - -<p>Julian hesitated and then took the chair -indicated, seating himself very erect on the -edge, his riding-whip across his knees.</p> - -<p>“Will you smoke?” asked Winthrop, -holding forth his cigarette-case.</p> - -<p>“No, thanks,” replied Julian, stiffly.</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s silence while -Winthrop lighted his cigarette and Julian -observed him darkly. Then—</p> - -<p>“Mr. Winthrop,” said Julian, “how -long do you intend to remain here, sir?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span></p> - -<p>“My plans are a bit unsettled,” answered -Winthrop, tossing the burnt match -onto the walk. “I had intended leaving -Sunday, but my accident prevented. Now -I am undecided. May I enquire your reason -for asking, Mr. Wayne?”</p> - -<p>“Because I wanted to know,” answered -Julian, bluntly. “Your presence here is—is -distasteful to me and embarrassing to -Miss India and Miss Holly.”</p> - -<p>“Really!” gasped Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, and you know it. Anyone but -a Northerner would have more feeling -than to force himself on the hospitality of -two unfortunate ladies as you have done, -Mr. Winthrop.”</p> - -<p>“But—but——!” Winthrop sighed, and -shook his head helplessly. “Oh, there’s no -use in my trying to get your view, I guess. -May I ask, merely as a matter of curiosity, -whether the fact that Waynewood is my -property has anything to do with it in your -judgment.”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, it hasn’t! I don’t ask how you -came into possession of the place——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span></p> - -<p>“Thank you,” murmured Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“But in retaining it you are acting -abominably, sir!”</p> - -<p>“The deuce I am! May I ask what you -would advise me to do with it? Shall I -hand it over to Miss India or Miss Holly -as—as a valentine?”</p> - -<p>“Our people, sir, don’t accept charity,” -answered Julian, wrathfully.</p> - -<p>“So I fancied. Then what would you -suggest? Perhaps you are in a position -to buy it yourself, Mr. Wayne?”</p> - -<p>Julian frowned and hesitated.</p> - -<p>“You had no business taking it,” he -muttered.</p> - -<p>“Granted for the sake of argument, sir. -But, having taken it, now what?”</p> - -<p>Julian hesitated for a moment. Then—</p> - -<p>“At least you’re not obliged to stay here -where you’re not wanted,” he said, explosively.</p> - -<p>Winthrop smiled deprecatingly.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Wayne, I’d like to ask you one -question. Did you come here this morning -on purpose to pick a quarrel with me?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span></p> - -<p>“I came to apologize for what happened -Saturday night. I’ve told you so already.”</p> - -<p>“You have. You have apologized like a -gentleman and I have accepted your apology -without reservations. That is finished. -And now I’d like to make a suggestion.”</p> - -<p>“Well?” asked Julian, suspiciously.</p> - -<p>“And that is that if your errand is at an -end you withdraw from my property until -you can address me without insults.”</p> - -<p>Julian’s face flushed; he opened his lips -to speak, choked back the words, and arose -from his chair.</p> - -<p>“Don’t misunderstand me, please,” went -on Winthrop, quietly. “I am not turning -you out. I should be glad to have you remain -as long as you like. Only, if you -please, as long as you are in a measure my -guest, you will kindly refrain from impertinent -criticisms of my actions. I’d dislike -very much to have you weaken my faith in -Southern courtesy, Mr. Wayne.”</p> - -<p>Julian’s reply was never made, for at -that instant Holly and Miss India came out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span> -on the porch. Holly’s first glance was toward -Winthrop. Then, with slightly -heightened color, she greeted Julian kindly. -He seized her hand and looked eagerly into -her smiling face.</p> - -<p>“Am I forgiven?” he asked, in an anxious -whisper.</p> - -<p>“Hush,” she answered, “it is I who -should ask that. But we’ll forgive each -other.” She turned to Winthrop, who had -arisen at their appearance, and Julian -greeted Miss India.</p> - -<p>“What have you gentlemen been talking -about for so long?” asked Holly, gayly.</p> - -<p>“Many things,” answered Winthrop. -“Mr. Wayne was kind enough to express -his regrets for my accident. Afterwards -we discussed”—he paused and shot a -whimsical glance at Julian’s uneasy countenance—“Southern -customs, obsolete and -otherwise.”</p> - -<p>“It sounds very uninteresting,” laughed -Holly. Then—“Why, Uncle Ran hasn’t -taken your horse around, Julian,” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span></p> - -<p>“I didn’t call him. I am going right -back.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, Julian, dinner is coming on -the table now,” said Holly.</p> - -<p>“It’s much too warm to ride in the middle -of the day,” said Miss India, decisively. -“Tell Phœbe to lay another place, -Holly.” Julian hesitated and shot a questioning -glance at Winthrop.</p> - -<p>“You are quite right, Miss India,” said -Winthrop. “This is no time to do twelve -miles on horseback. You must command -Mr. Wayne to remain. No one, I am sure, -has ever dared disregard a command of -yours.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell Phœbe and call Uncle Ran,” -said Holly. But at the door she turned -and looked across the garden. “Why, here -is Uncle Major! We’re going to have a -regular dinner party, Auntie.”</p> - -<p>The Major, very warm and somewhat -breathless, was limping his way hurriedly -around the rose-bed, his cane tapping the -ground with unaccustomed force.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Miss India,” he called.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span> -“Good-morning, Holly; good-morning, -gentlemen. Have you heard the news?”</p> - -<p>“Not a word of it,” cried Holly, darting -to the steps and pulling him up. “Tell -me quick!”</p> - -<p>The Major paused at the top of the little -flight, removed his hat, wiped his moist -forehead, and looked impressively about -the circle.</p> - -<p>“The battleship <i>Maine</i> was blown up -last night in Havanna harbor by the -damned—I beg your pardon, ladies—by -the pesky Spaniards and nearly three hundred -officers and men were killed.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Holly, softly.</p> - -<p>“I never!” gasped Miss India.</p> - -<p>“It is known that the Spanish did it?” -asked Winthrop, gravely.</p> - -<p>“There can be no doubt of it,” answered -the Major. “They just got the news half -an hour ago at the station and particulars -are meager, but there’s no question about -how it happened.”</p> - -<p>“But this,” cried Julian, “means——!”</p> - -<p>“It means intervention at last!” said the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span> -Major. “And intervention means war, by -Godfrey!”</p> - -<p>“War!” echoed Julian, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“And if it wasn’t for this da—this trifling -leg of mine, I’d volunteer to-morrow,” -declared the Major.</p> - -<p>“How awful!” sighed Miss India. -“Think of all those sailors that are killed! -I never did like the Spanish, Major.”</p> - -<p>“It may be,” said Winthrop, “that the -accident will prove to have been caused by -an explosion on board.”</p> - -<p>“Shucks!” said Julian. “That’s rubbish! -The Spaniards did it, as sure as -fighting, and, by Jupiter, if they think they -can blow up our ships and kill our men and -not suffer for it—— How long do you -reckon it’ll be, Major, before we declare -war on them?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t say; maybe a week, maybe a -month. I reckon Congress will have to -chew it over awhile. But it’s bound to -come, and—well, I reckon I’m out of it, -Julian,” concluded the Major, with a sigh.</p> - -<p>“But I’m not!” cried the other. “I’ll<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span> -go with the hospital corps. It’s the chance -of a lifetime, Major! Why, a man can get -more experience in two weeks in a field -hospital than he can in two years anywhere -else! Why——”</p> - -<p>“The bell has rung,” interposed Miss -India. “You must take dinner with us, -Major, and tell us everything you know. -Dear, dear, I feel quite worked up! I remember -when the news came that our army -had fired on Fort Sumter——”</p> - -<p>Winthrop laid his hand on the Major’s -arm and halted him.</p> - -<p>“Major,” he said, smiling slightly, -“don’t you think you ought to explain to -them that the <i>Maine</i> wasn’t a Confederate -battleship, that she belonged to the United -States and that probably more than half -her officers and men were Northerners?”</p> - -<p>“Eh? What?” The Major stared bewilderedly -a moment. Then he chuckled -and laid one big knotted hand on Winthrop’s -shoulder. “Mr. Winthrop, sir,” -he said, “I reckon all that doesn’t matter -so much now.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIV">XIV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>“I’m going for a walk with Mr. Winthrop, -Auntie,” said Holly. She fastened -a broad-brimmed hat on her head and -looked down at Miss India with soft, shining -eyes. Dinner was over and Miss India, -the Major and Julian were sitting in a -shady spot on the porch. Winthrop -awaited Holly at the steps.</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear,” answered Miss India. -“But keep Mr. Winthrop away from those -dark, damp places, Holly. It’s so easy to -get the feet wet at this time of year.”</p> - -<p>“You see, Uncle Major,” laughed Holly, -“she doesn’t care whether I catch cold or -not; it’s just Mr. Winthrop!”</p> - -<p>“Holly!” expostulated her Aunt.</p> - -<p>“She knows, my dear,” said the Major, -gallantly, “that those little feet of yours -will skim the wet places like swallows!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir!” She made a face at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span> -the Major. “You will be here when we -get back, won’t you, Julian?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” answered Julian, dismally.</p> - -<p>“We won’t be long.” She nodded to the -trio and joined Winthrop, and side by side -they went down the steps, wound through -the garden and disappeared into the oleander -path. Julian watched them with a pain -at his heart until they were out of sight, -and for several minutes afterwards he sat -silent, thinking bitter thoughts. Then a -remark of the Major’s aroused him and -he leaped impetuously into the conversation.</p> - -<p>“Trouble!” he exclaimed. “Why, we -can clear the Spaniards out of Cuba in two -weeks. Look at our ships! And look at -our army! There isn’t a better one in the -world! Trouble! Why, it’ll be too easy; -you’ll see; it’ll be all over before we know -it!”</p> - -<p>“I dread another war, Major,” said -Miss India, with a little shudder. “The -last one was so terrible.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span></p> - -<p>“It was, ma’am, it was. It was brother -kill brother. But this one will be different, -Miss Indy, for North and South will -stand together and fight together, and, by -Godfrey, there’ll be no stopping until -Spanish dominion in Cuba is a thing of the -past!”</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” cried Julian. “This is -the whole country together this time; it’s -the United States of America, by Jupiter!”</p> - -<p>“Let us thank God for that,” said Miss -India, devoutly.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Winthrop and Holly were rather silent -until they had left the red clay road behind -and turned into the woods. There, in a -little clearing, Winthrop led the way to the -trunk of a fallen pine and they seated -themselves upon it. The afternoon sunlight -made its way between the branches -in amber streams. Above them festoons -of gray-green moss decked the trees. The -woods were very silent and not even a bird-call -broke the silence. Holly took her hat -off and laid it beside her on the gray bark.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span> -Then she turned gravely to Winthrop and -met his eyes.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” she whispered.</p> - -<p>“I’ve brought you here, Holly, to ask -you to marry me,” he answered. Holly’s -hand flew to her heart, and her eyes grew -big and dark.</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand,” she faltered.</p> - -<p>“No, and before I do ask you, dear, I’ve -got something to tell you. Will you -listen?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” answered Holly, simply.</p> - -<p>“I was married when I was twenty-four -years old,” began Winthrop, after a moment. -“I had just finished a course in the -law school. The girl I married was four -years younger than I. She was very beautiful -and a great belle in the little city in -which she lived. We went to New York -and I started in business with a friend of -mine. We were stock brokers. A year -later my wife bore me a son; we called him -Robert. For five years we were very -happy; those years were the happiest I -have ever known. Then the boy died.”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span> -He was silent a moment. “I loved him a -great deal, and I took it hard. I made a -mistake then. To forget my trouble I immersed -myself too deeply, perhaps, in business. -Well, two years later I made the discovery -that I had failed to keep my wife’s -love. If our boy had lived it would have -been different but his death left her lonely -and—I was thoughtless, selfish in my -own sorrow, until it was too late. I found -that my wife had grown to love another -man. I don’t blame her; I never have. -And she was always honest with me. She -told me the truth. She sued me for divorce -and I didn’t contest. That was six years -ago. She has been married for five years -and I think, I pray, that she is very -happy.”</p> - -<p>He paused, and Holly darted a glance -at his face. He was looking straight ahead -down the woodland path, and for an instant -she felt very lonely and apart. -Then—</p> - -<p>“You see, dear,” he continued, “I have -failed to keep one woman’s love. Could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span> -I do better another time? I think so, but—who -knows? It would be a risk for you, -wouldn’t it?”</p> - -<p>He turned and smiled gently at her, and -she smiled tremulously back.</p> - -<p>“There,” he said. “Now you know -what I am. I am thirty-eight years old, -twenty years older than you, and a divorced -man into the bargain. Even if you -were willing to excuse those things, Holly, -I fear your aunt could not.”</p> - -<p>“If I were willing,” answered Holly, -evenly, “nothing else would matter. But—you -will tell me one thing? Do you—are -you quite, quite sure that you do not still -love her—a little?”</p> - -<p>“Quite, Holly. The heart I offer, dear, -is absolutely free.”</p> - -<p>“I think God did mean me to love you, -then, after all,” said Holly, thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>Winthrop arose and stood before her, -and held out his hand. She placed hers in -it and with her eyes on his allowed him to -raise her gently toward him.</p> - -<p>“Then, Holly,” he said, “I ask you to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span> -be my wife, for I love you more than I can -ever tell you. Will you, Holly, will you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” sighed Holly.</p> - -<p>Very gently he strove to draw her to -him but, with her hands against his breast, -she held herself at the length of his arms.</p> - -<p>“Wait,” she said. “Don’t kiss me until -you are sure that you mean what you’ve -said, Robert—quite, quite sure. Because”—her -eyes darkened, and her voice -held a fierceness that thrilled him—“because, -dear, after you have kissed me it -will be too late to repent. I’ll never let -you go then, never while I live! I’ll fight -for you until—until——!”</p> - -<p>Her voice broke, and the lashes fell tremblingly -over her eyes. Winthrop, awed -and stirred, raised the bowed head until -her eyes, grown soft and timid, glanced up -at him once more.</p> - -<p>“Dear,” he said, very low and very -humbly, “such as I am I am yours as long -as God will let me live for you.”</p> - -<p>He bent his head until his lips were on -hers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span></p> - -<p>The next instant she had buried her face -against his shoulder, and he felt her body -shaking in his arms.</p> - -<p>“Holly!” he cried. “Holly! You’re -crying! What is it, dear? What have I -done, Sweetheart?”</p> - -<p>For an instant she ceased to quiver, and -from against his coat came a smothered -voice.</p> - -<p>“What’s the good of be-being happy,” -sobbed Holly, “if you can’t cr-cr-cry?”</p> - -<p>A breath of wind from the south swept -through the wood, stirring the tender -leaves to rustling murmurs. And the -sound was like that of a little stream which, -obstructed in its course, finds a new channel -and leaps suddenly on its way again, -laughing joyously.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_p295"> - <img src="images/i_p295.jpg" alt="" title=""> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><span class="smcap">The End</span></p> - </div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap"> -<div class="tnote"> -<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class="smfont">A List of Chapters has been provided for the convenience of the - reader.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently - corrected.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOLLY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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