Elsie stood dreaming for a moment in the shadow of the arbor-vit?, breathing the sensuous perfumed air and listening to the distant music of the falls, her heart quivering in pity for the anguish of which she had been a witness. Again the spectral cry of the whippoorwill rang near-by, and she noted for the first time the curious cluck with which the bird punctuated each call. A sense of dim foreboding oppressed her.

She wondered if the chatter of Marion about the girl in Nashville were only a child’s guess or more. She laughed softly at the absurdity of the idea. Never since she had first looked into Ben Cameron’s face did she feel surer of the honesty and earnestness of his love than to-day in this quiet home of his native village. It must be the queer call of the bird which appealed to superstitions she did not know were hidden within her being.

Still dreaming under its spell, she was startled at the tread of two men approaching the gate.

The taller, more powerful-looking man put his hand on the latch and paused.

“Allow no white man to order you around. Remember you are a freeman and as good as any pale-face who walks this earth.” 205

She recognized the voice of Silas Lynch.

“Ben Cameron dare me to come about de house,” said the other voice.

“What did he say?”

“He say, wid his eyes batten’ des like lightnen’, ‘Ef I ketch you hangin’ ’roun’ dis place agin’, Gus, I’ll jump on you en stomp de life outen ye.’”

“Well, you tell him that your name is Augustus, not ‘Gus,’ and that the United States troops quartered in this town will be with him soon after the stomping begins. You wear its uniform. Give the white trash in this town to understand that they are not even citizens of the nation. As a sovereign voter, you, once their slave, are not only their equal—you are their master.”

“Dat I will!” was the firm answer.

The negro to whom Lynch spoke disappeared in the direction taken by Marion and her mother, and the figure of the handsome mulatto passed rapidly up the walk, ascended the steps and knocked at the door.

Elsie followed him.

“My father is too much fatigued with his journey to be seen now; you must call to-morrow,” she said.

The negro lifted his hat and bowed:

“Ah, we are delighted to welcome you, Miss Stoneman, to our land! Your father asked me to call immediately on his arrival. I have but obeyed his orders.”

Elsie shrank from the familiarity of his manner and the tones of authority and patronage with which he spoke.

“He cannot be seen at this hour,” she answered shortly. 206

“Perhaps you will present my card, then—say that I am at his service, and let him appoint the time at which I shall return?”

She did not invite him in, but with easy assurance he took his seat on the joggle-board beside the door and awaited her return.

Against her urgent protest, Stoneman ordered Lynch to be shown at once to his bedroom.

When the door was closed, the old Commoner, without turning to greet his visitor or moving his position in bed, asked:............