Dr. Cameron’s appeal had left the old Commoner unshaken in his idea. There could be but one side to any question with such a man, and that was his side. He would stand by his own men, too. He believed in his own forces. The bayonet was essential to his revolutionary programme—hence the hand which held it could do no wrong. Wrongs were accidents which might occur under any system.

Yet in no way did he display the strange contradictions of his character so plainly as in his inability to hate the individual who stood for the idea he was fighting with maniac fury. He liked Dr. Cameron instantly, though he had come to do a crime that would send him into beggared exile.

Individual suffering he could not endure. In this the doctor’s appeal had startling results.

He sent for Mrs. Lenoir and Marion.

“I understand, Madam,” he said gravely, “that your house and farm are to be sold for taxes.”

“Yes, sir; we’ve given it up this time. Nothing can be done,” was the hopeless answer.

“Would you consider an offer of twenty dollars an acre?”

“Nobody would be fool enough to offer it. You can 298 buy all the land in the county for a dollar an acre. It’s not worth anything.”

“I disagree with you,” said Stoneman cheerfully. “I am looking far ahead. I would like to make an experiment here with Pennsylvania methods on this land. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars cash for your five hundred acres if you will take it.”

“You don’t mean it?” Mrs. Lenoir gasped, choking back the tears.

“Certainly. You can at once return to your home. I’ll take another house, and invest your money for you in good Northern securities.”

The mother burst into sobs, unable to speak, while Marion threw her arms impulsively around the old man’s neck and kissed him.

His cold eyes were warmed with the first tear they had shed in years.

He moved the next day to the Ross estate, which he rented, had Sam brought back to the home of his childhood in charge of a good-natured white attendant, and installed in one of the little cottages on the lawn. He ordered Lynch to arrest the keeper of the poor, and hold him on a charge of assault with intent to kill, awaiting the action of the Grand Jury. The Lieutenant-Governor received this order with sullen anger—yet he saw to its execution. He was not quite ready for a break with the man who had made him.

Astonished at his new humour, Phil and Elsie hastened to confess to him their love affairs and ask his approval of their choice. His reply was cautious, yet he did not 299 refuse his consent. He advised them to wait a few months, allow him time to know the young people, and get his bearings on the conditions of Southern society. His mood of tenderness was a startling revelation to them of the depth and intensity of his love.

When Mrs. Lenoir returned with Marion to her vine-clad home, she spent the first day of perfect joy since the death of her lover husband. The deed had not yet been made of the transfer of the farm, but it was only a question of legal formality. She was to receive the money in the form of interest-bearing securities and deliver the title on the following morning.

Arm in arm, mother and daughter visited again each hallowed spot, with the sweet sense of ownership. The place was in perfect order. Its flowers were in gorgeous bloom, its walks clean and neat, the fences painted, and the gates swung on new hinges.

They stood with their arms about one another, watching the sun sink behind the mountains, with tears of gratitude and hope stirring their souls.

Ben Cameron strode through the gate, and they hurried to meet him with cries of joy.

“Just dropped in a minute to see if you are snug for the night,” he said.

“Of course, snug and so happy we’ve been hugging one another for hours,” said the mother. “Oh, Ben, the clouds have lifted at last!”

“Has Aunt Cindy come yet?” he asked.

“No, but she’ll be here in the morning to get breakfast. We don’t want anything to eat,” she answered. 300

“Then I’ll come out when I’m through my business to-night, and sleep in the house to keep you company.”

“Nonsense,” said the mother, “we couldn’t think of putting you to the trouble. We’ve spent many a night here alone.”

“But not in the past two years,” he said with a frown.

“We’re not afraid,” Marion said with a smile. “Besides, we’d keep you awake all night with our laughter and foolishness, rummaging through the house.”

“You’d better let me,” Ben protested.

“No,” said the mother, “we’ll be happier to-night alone, with only God’s eye to see how perfectly silly we can be. Come and take supper with us to-morrow night. Bring Elsie and her guitar—I don’t like the banjo—and we’ll have a little love feast with music in the moonlight.”

“Yes, do that,” cried Marion. “I know we owe this good luck to her. I want to tell her how much I love her for it.”

“Well, if you insist on staying alone,” said Ben reluctantly, “I’ll bring Miss Elsie to-morrow, but I don’t like your being here without Aunt Cindy to-night.”

“Oh, we’re all right!” laughed Marion, “but what I want to know is what you are doing out so late every night since you’ve come home, and ............