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+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.
+
+
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+<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 &amp; 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>&#160;</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>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;<span class="flright"> <i>Frontispiece</i></span></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">&#160;</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>
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