I
　　ASTRANGERFROMSOUTHCAROLINA
　　Timetouchesallthingswithdestroyinghand；
　　andifheseemnowandthentobestowthebloomofyouth，thesapofspring，itisbutabriefmockery，tobesurelyandswiftlyfollowedbythewrinklesofoldage，thedryleavesandbarebranchesofwinter。AndyetthereareplaceswhereTimeseemstolingerlovinglylongafteryouthhasdeparted，andtowhichheseemsloathtobringtheevilday。Whohasnotknownsomeeven—temperedoldmanorwomanwhoseemedtohavedrunkofthefountainofyouth？Whohasnotseensomewhereanoldtownthat，havinglongsinceceasedtogrow，yethelditsownwithoutperceptibledecline？
　　Somesuchtritereflection——asappositetothesubjectasmostrandomreflectionsare——passedthroughthemindofayoungmanwhocameoutofthefrontdoorofthePatesvilleHotelaboutnineo’clockonefinemorninginspring，afewyearsaftertheCivilWar，andstarteddownFrontStreettowardthemarket—house。Arrivingatthetownlatethepreviousevening，hehadbeendrivenupfromthesteamboatinacarriage，fromwhichhehadbeenabletodistinguishonlytheshadowyoutlinesofthehousesalongthestreet；sothatthismorningwalkwashisfirstopportunitytoseethetownbydaylight。Hewasdressedinasuitoflinenduck——thedaywaswarm——apanamastrawhat，andpatentleathershoes。Inappearancehewastall，dark，withstraight，black，lustroushair，andveryclean—cut，high—bredfeatures。Whenhepausedbytheclerk’sdeskonhiswayout，tolighthiscigar，thedayclerk，whohadjustcomeonduty，glancedattheregisterandreadthelastentry：——
　　"`JOHNWARWICK，CLARENCE，SOUTHCAROLINA。’
　　"OneoftheSouthCa’linabigbugs，Ireckon——probablyincotton，orturpentine。"ThegentlemanfromSouthCarolina，walkingdownthestreet，glancedabouthimwithaneagerlook，inwhichcuriosityandaffectionweremingledwithatouchofbitterness。Hesawlittlethatwasnotfamiliar，orthathehadnotseeninhisdreamsahundredtimesduringthepasttenyears。Therehadbeensomechanges，itistrue，somemelancholychanges，butscarcelyanythingbywayofadditionorimprovementtocounterbalancethem。Hereandthereblackenedanddismantledwallsmarkedtheplacewherehandsomebuildingsoncehadstood，forSherman’smarchtotheseahadleftitsmarkuponthetown。Thestoresweremostlyofbrick，twostorieshigh，joiningoneanotherafterthemannerofcities。Someofthenamesonthesignswerefamiliar；others，includinganumberofJewishnames，werequiteunknowntohim。
　　Atwominutes’walkbroughtWarwick——thenamehehadregisteredunder，andasweshallcallhim——tothemarket—house，thecentralfeatureofPatesville，fromboththecommercialandthepicturesquepointsofview。Standingfoursquareintheheartofthetown，attheintersectionofthetwomainstreets，a"jog"ateachstreetcornerleftaroundthemarket—housealittlepublicsquare，whichatthishourwaswelloccupiedbycartsandwagonsfromthecountryandemptydraysawaitinghire。Warwickwasunabletoperceivemuchchangeinthemarket—house。Perhapsthesurfaceoftheredbrick，longunpainted，hadscaledoffalittlemorehereandthere。Theremighthavebeenaslightaccretionofthemossandlichenontheshingledroof。Butthetalltower，withitsfour—
　　facedclock，roseasmajesticallyanduncompromisinglyasthoughthelandhadneverbeensubjugated。
　　Wasitsoirreconcilable，Warwickwondered，asstilltopealoutthecurfewbell，whichatnineo’clockatnighthadclamorouslywarnedallnegroes，slaveorfree，thatitwasunlawfulforthemtobeabroadafterthathour，underpenaltyofimprisonmentorwhipping？Wastheoldconstable，whosechiefbusinessithadbeentoringthebell，stillaliveandexercisingthefunctionsofhisoffice，andhadagelessenedorincreasedthenumberoftimesthatobligingcitizensperformedthisdutyforhimduringhistemporaryabsencesinthecompanyofconvivialspirits？Afewmomentslater，Warwicksawacoloredpolicemanintheoldconstable’splace——astrongerreminderthaneventheburnedbuildingsthatwarhadleftitsmarkupontheoldtown，withwhichTimehaddealtsotenderly。
　　Thelowerstoryofthemarket—housewasopenonallfourofitssidestothepublicsquare。
　　Warwickpassedthroughoneofthewidebrickarchesandtraversedthebuildingwithaleisurelystep。
　　Helookedinvainintothestallsforthebutcherwhohadsoldfreshmeattwiceaweek，onmarketdays，andhefeltagenuinethrillofpleasurewhenherecognizedtheredbandanaturbanofoldAuntLyddy，theancientnegrowomanwhohadsoldhimgingerbreadandfriedfish，andtoldhimweirdtalesofwitchcraftandconjuration，intheolddayswhen，asanidleboy，hehadloafedaboutthemarket—house。Hedidnotspeaktoher，however，orgiveheranysignofrecognition。Hethrewaglancetowardacertaincornerwherestepsledtothetownhallabove。Onthisstairwayhehadonceseenamanacledfreenegroshotwhilebeingtakenupstairsforexaminationunderacriminalcharge。Warwickrecalledvividlyhowtheshothadrungout。Hecouldseeagainthelividlookofterroronthevictim’sface，thegatheringcrowd，theresultingconfusion。Themurderer，herecalled，hadbeentriedandsentencedtoimprisonmentforlife，butwaspardonedbyamercifulgovernorafterservingayearofhissentence。AsWarwickwasneitheraprophetnorthesonofaprophet，hecouldnotforeseethat，thirtyyearslater，eventhiswouldseemanexcessivepunishmentforsoslightamisdemeanor。
　　Leavingthemarket—house，Warwickturnedtotheleft，andkeptonhiscourseuntilhereachedthenextcorner。Afteranotherturntotheright，adozenpacesbroughthiminfrontofasmallweather—beatenframebuilding，fromwhichprojectedawoodensign—boardbearingtheinscription：——
　　ARCHIBALDSTRAIGHT，LAWYER。
　　Heturnedtheknob，butthedoorwaslocked。
　　Retracinghisstepspastavacantlot，theyoungmanenteredashopwhereacoloredmanwasemployedinvarnishingacoffin，whichstoodontwotrestlesinthemiddleofthefloor。Notatallimpressedbythemelancholysuggestivenessofhistask，hewaswhistlingalivelyairwithgreatgusto。
　　UponWarwick’sentrancethiseffusioncametoasuddenend，andthecoffin—makerassumedanairofprofessionalgravity。
　　"Good—mawnin’，suh，"hesaid，liftinghiscappolitely。
　　"Good—morning，"answeredWarwick。"CanyoutellmeanythingaboutJudgeStraight’sofficehours？"
　　"Deolejedgehasbe’nalittleonreg’larsencedewah，suh；buthegin’allygitsroun’’boutteno’clockerso。He’sbe’nkin’erfeebleferdelas’
　　fewyeahs。An’Ireckon，"continuedtheundertakersolemnly，hisglanceunconsciouslyseekingarowoffinecasketsstandingagainstthewall，——"I
　　reckonhe’llsoonbegoin’dewayeralldeearth。
　　`Mandatisbawner’omanhathbutasho’ttimeterlib，an’isfullermis’ry。Hecomethupan’iscutdownlackasaflower。’`Dedayserhislifeisthree—sco’an’ten’——an’deolejedgeislibbedmo’d’ndat，suh，byfiveyeahs，tersaydeleas’。"
　　"`Death，’"quotedWarwick，withwhosemoodtheundertaker’sremarkswereintune，"`isthepenaltythatallmustpayforthecrimeofliving。’"
　　"Dat’safac’，suh，dat’safac’；sodeymus’——
　　sodeymus’。An’denalldedeadhasterbeburied。
　　An’wedoesou’sheerofit，suh，wedoesou’sheer。
　　Weconduc’sdeobs’quieseralldebes’w’itefolkserdetown，suh。"
　　Warwicklefttheundertaker’sshopandretracedhisstepsuntilhehadpassedthelawyer’soffice，towardwhichhethrewanaffectionateglance。
　　AfewrodsfartherledhimpasttheoldblackPresbyterianchurch，withitssquaretower，emboweredinastatelygrove；pasttheCatholicchurch，withitsmanycrosses，andapaintedwoodenfigureofSt。Jamesinarecessbeneaththegable；andpasttheoldJeffersonHouse，oncetheleadinghotelofthetown，infrontofwhichpoliticalmeetingshadbeenheld，andpoliticalspeechesmade，andpoliticalhardciderdrunk，inthedaysof"TippecanoeandTylertoo。"
　　ThestreetdownwhichWarwickhadcomeintersectedFrontStreetatasharpangleinfrontoftheoldhotel，formingasortofflatironblockatthejunction，knownasLibertyPoint，——perhapsbecauseslaveauctionsweresometimesheldthereinthegoodolddays。JustbeforeWarwickreachedLibertyPoint，ayoungwomancamedownFrontStreetfromthedirectionofthemarket—house。
　　Whentheirpathsconverged，WarwickkeptondownFrontStreetbehindher，ithavingbeenalreadyhisintentiontowalkinthisdirection。
　　Warwick’sfirstglancehadrevealedthefactthattheyoungwomanwasstrikinglyhandsome，withastatelybeautyseldomencountered。Ashewalkedalongbehindheratameasureddistance，hecouldnothelpnotingthedetailsthatmadeupthispleasingimpression，forhismindwassingularlyalivetobeauty，inwhateverembodiment。
　　Thegirl’sfigure，heperceived，wasadmirablyproportioned；shewasevidentlyattheperiodwhentheanglesofchildhoodwereroundingintothepromisingcurvesofadolescence。Herabundanthair，ofadarkandglossybrown，wasneatlyplaitedandcoiledaboveanivorycolumnthatrosestraightfromapairofgentlyslopingshoulders，clearlyoutlinedbeneaththelightmuslinfrockthatcoveredthem。Hecouldseethatshewastastefully，thoughnotrichly，dressed，andthatshewalkedwithanelasticstepthatrevealedalightheartandthevigorofperfecthealth。Herface，ofcourse，hecouldnotanalyze，sincehehadcaughtonlytheonebriefbutconvincingglimpseofit。
　　TheyoungwomankeptondownFrontStreet，Warwickmaintaininghisdistanceafewrodsbehindher。Theypassedafactory，awarehouseortwo，andthen，leavingthebrickpavement，walkedalongonmotherearth，underaleafyarcadeofspreadingoaksandelms。Theirwaylednowthrougharesidentialportionofthetown，which，astheyadvanced，graduallydeclinedfromstaidrespectabilitytopoverty，openandunabashed。Warwickobserved，astheypassedthroughtherespectablequarter，thatfewpeoplewhometthegirlgreetedher，andthatsomeotherswhomshepassedatgatesordoorwaysgavehernosignofrecognition；fromwhichheinferredthatshewaspossiblyavisitorinthetownandnotwellacquainted。
　　Theirwalkhadcontinuednotmorethantenminuteswhentheycrossedacreekbyawoodenbridgeandcametoarowofmeanhousesstandingflushwiththestreet。Atthedoorofone，anoldblackwomanhadstoopedtoliftalargebasket，piledhighwithlaunderedclothes。Thegirl，asshepassed，seizedoneendofthebasketandhelpedtheoldwomantoraiseittoherhead，whereitrestedsolidlyonthecushionofherhead—kerchief。
　　Duringthisinterlude，Warwick，thoughhehadslackenedhispacemeasurably，hadsonearlyclosedthegapbetweenhimselfandthemastoheartheoldwomansay，withthedulcetnegrointonation：——
　　"T’anky’，honey；deLawdgwineblessyousho’。Youwuzalluzagoodgal，anddeLawdloveeve’ybodyw’athe’pdepo’olenigger。Yougwineterhabgoodluckallyo’bawndays。"
　　"Ihopeyou’reatrueprophet，AuntZilphy，"
　　laughedthegirlinresponse。
　　ThesoundofhervoicegaveWarwickathrill。
　　Itwassoftandsweetandclear——quiteinharmonywithherappearance。Thatithadafaintsuggestivenessoftheoldwoman’saccenthehardlynoticed，forthecurrentSouthernspeech，includinghisown，wasrarelywithoutatouchofit。
　　Thecorruptionofthewhitepeople’sspeechwasoneelement——onlyone——ofthenegro’sunconsciousrevengeforhisowndebasement。
　　Thehousestheypassednowgrewscattering，andthequarterofthetownmoreneglected。
　　Warwickfelthimselfwonderingwherethegirlmightbegoinginaneighborhoodsouninviting。
　　Whenshestoppedtopullahalf—nakednegrochildoutofamudholeandsethimuponhisfeet，hethoughtshemightbesomeyoungladyfromtheupperpartofthetown，boundonsomeerrandofmercy，orgoing，perhaps，tovisitanoldservantorlookforanewone。OnceshethrewabackwardglanceatWarwick，thusenablinghimtocatchasecondglimpseofasingularlyprettyface。Perhapstheyoungwomanfoundhispresenceintheneighborhoodasunaccountableashehaddeemedhers；for，findinghisglancefixeduponher，shequickenedherpacewithanairofstartledtimidity。
　　"Awomanwithsuchafigure，"thoughtWarwick，"oughttobeabletofacetheworldwiththeconfidenceofPhryneconfrontingherjudges。"
　　BythistimeWarwickwasconsciousthatsomethingmorethanmeregraceorbeautyhadattractedhimwithincreasingforcetowardthisyoungwoman。Asuggestion，atfirstfaintandelusive，ofsomethingfamiliar，hadgrownstrongerwhenheheardhervoice，andbecamemoreandmorepronouncedwitheachrodoftheiradvance；
　　andwhenshestoppedfinallybeforeagate，and，openingit，wentintoayardshutofffromthestreetbyarowofdwarfcedars，WarwickhadalreadydiscountedinsomemeasurethesurprisehewouldhavefeltatseeingherentertherehadhenotwalkeddownFrontStreetbehindher。Therewasstillsufficientunexpectednessabouttheact，however，togivehimadecidedthrillofpleasure。
　　"ItmustbeRena，"hemurmured。"Whocouldhavedreamedthatshewouldblossomoutlikethat？ItmustsurelybeRena！"
　　Hewalkedslowlypastthegateandpeeredthroughanarrowgapinthecedarhedge。Thegirlwasmovingalongasandedwalk，towardagray，unpaintedhouse，withasteeproof，brokenbydormerwindows。Thetraceoftimidityhehadobservedinherhadgivenplacetothemoreassuredbearingofonewhoisuponhisownground。Thegardenwalkswereborderedbylongrowsofjonquils，pinks，andcarnations，inclosingclumpsoffragrantshrubs，lilies，androsesalreadyinbloom。
　　Towardthemiddleofthegardenstoodtwofinemagnolia—trees，withheavy，darkgreen，glisteningleaves，whilenearerthehousetwomightyelmsshadedawidepiazza，atoneendofwhichahoneysucklevine，andattheotheraVirginiacreeper，runningoverawoodenlattice，furnishedadditionalshadeandseclusion。Ondarkorwintrydays，theaspectofthisgardenmusthavebeenextremelysombreanddepressing，anditmightwellhaveseemedafitplacetohidesomeguiltyordisgracefulsecret。ButonthebrightmorningwhenWarwickstoodlookingthroughthecedars，itseemed，withitsgreenframeandcanopyanditsbrightcarpetofflowers，anidealretreatfromthefiercesunshineandthesultryheatoftheapproachingsummer。
　　Thegirlstoopedtopluckarose，andasshebentoverit，herprofilewasclearlyoutlined。Sheheldtheflowertoherfacewithalong—drawninhalation，thenwentupthesteps，crossedthepiazza，openedthedoorwithoutknocking，andenteredthehousewiththeairofonethoroughlyathome。
　　"Yes，"saidtheyoungmantohimself，"it’sRena，sureenough。"
　　Thehousestoodonacorner，aroundwhichthecedarhedgeturned，continuingalongthesideofthegardenuntilitreachedthelineofthefrontofthehouse。Thepiazzatoarearwing，atrightanglestothefrontofthehouse，wasopentoinspectionfromthesidestreet，which，tojudgefromitsdesertedlook，seemedtobebutlittleused。Turningintothisstreetandwalkingleisurelypastthebackyard，whichwasonlyslightlyscreenedfromthestreetbyachina—tree，Warwickperceivedtheyoungwomanstandingonthepiazza，facinganelderlywoman，whosatinalargerocking—chair，plyingapairofknitting—needlesonahalf—finishedstocking。Warwick’swalkledhimwithinthreefeetofthesidegate，whichhefeltanalmostirresistibleimpulsetoenter。Everydetailofthehouseandgardenwasfamiliar；athousandcordsofmemoryandaffectiondrewhimthither；butastrongercounter—motiveprevailed。Withagreateffortherestrainedhimself，andafteramomentarypause，walkedslowlyonpastthehouse，withabackwardglance，whichheturnedawaywhenhesawthatitwasobserved。
　　Warwick’sattentionhadbeensofullyabsorbedbythehousebehindthecedarsandthewomenthere，thathehadscarcelynoticed，ontheothersideoftheneglectedby—street，twomenworkingbyalargeopenwindow，inalow，rudebuildingwithaclapboardedroof，directlyoppositethebackpiazzaoccupiedbythetwowomen。Boththemenwerebusilyengagedinshapingbarrel—staves，eachwieldingasharp—edgeddrawing—knifeonapieceofseasonedoakclaspedtightlyinawoodenvise。
　　"Ijes’wonderwhodatmanis，an’w’athe’sdoin’ondisstreet，"observedtheyoungerofthetwo，withasuspiciousair。Hehadnoticedthegentleman’sinvoluntarypauseandhisinterestintheoppositehouse，andhadstoppedworkforamomenttowatchthestrangerashewentondownthestreet。
　　"Nev’min’’boutdatman，"saidtheelderone。
　　"You’ten’teryo’wukan’finishdatbairl—stave。
　　Youspen’senti’elytoomucheryo’timestretchin’
　　yo’neckatterotherpeople。An’youneedn’’sturbyo’se’f’boutdemfolks’crossdestreet，ferdeyain’tyo’kin’，an’you’rewastin’yo’timeboth’in’
　　yo’min’wid’em，erwidfolksw’atcomesondestreetonaccountof’em。Looksha’pnow，boy，eryou’llgitdatstavetrim’toomuch。"
　　Theyoungermanresumedhiswork，butstillfoundtimetothrowaslantingglanceoutofthewindow。Thegentleman，heperceived，stoodforamomentontherottingbridgeacrosstheoldcanal，andthenwalkedslowlyaheaduntilheturnedtotherightintoBackStreet，afewrodsfartheron。
　　II
　　ANEVENINGVISIT
　　Towardeveningofthesameday，WarwicktookhiswaydownFrontStreetinthegatheringdusk。
　　Bythetimenighthadspreaditsmantleovertheearth，hehadreachedthegatebywhichhehadseenthegirlofhismorningwalkenterthecedar—
　　borderedgarden。Hestoppedatthegateandglancedtowardthehouse，whichseemeddarkandsilentanddeserted。
　　"It’smorethanlikely，"hethought，"thattheyareinthekitchen。IreckonI’dbettertrythebackdoor。"
　　Butashedrewcautiouslynearthecorner，hesawaman’sfigureoutlinedintheyellowlightstreamingfromtheopendoorofasmallhousebetweenFrontStreetandthecoopershop。Wishing，forreasonsofhisown，toavoidobservation，Warwickdidnotturnthecorner，butwalkedondownFrontStreetuntilhereachedapointfromwhichhecouldsee，atalongangle，arayoflightproceedingfromthekitchenwindowofthehousebehindthecedars。
　　"Theyarethere，"hemutteredwithasighofrelief，forhehadfearedtheymightbeaway。"I
　　suspectI’llhavetogotothefrontdoor，afterall。
　　Noonecanseemethroughthetrees。"
　　Heretracedhisstepstothefrontgate，whichheessayedtoopen。Therewasapparentlysomedefectinthelatch，foritrefusedtowork。Warwickrememberedthetrick，andwithaslightsenseofamusement，pushedhisfootunderthegateandgaveitahitchtotheleft，afterwhichitopenedreadilyenough。Hewalkedsoftlyupthesandedpath，tiptoedupthestepsandacrossthepiazza，andrappedatthefrontdoor，nottooloudly，lestthistoomightattracttheattentionofthemanacrossthestreet。Therewasnoresponsetohisrap。Heputhiseartothedoorandheardvoiceswithin，andthemuffledsoundoffootsteps。Afteramomentherappedagain，alittlelouderthanbefore。
　　Therewasaninstantcessationofthesoundswithin。Herappedathirdtime，tosatisfyanylingeringdoubtinthemindsofthosewhohefeltsurewerelisteninginsometrepidation。Amomentlaterarayoflightstreamedthroughthekeyhole。
　　"Who’sthere？"awoman’svoiceinquiredsomewhatsharply。
　　"Agentleman，"answeredWarwick，notholdingityettimetorevealhimself。"DoesMis’
　　MollyWaldenlivehere？"
　　"Yes，"wastheguardedanswer。"I’mMis’
　　Walden。What’syo’rbusiness？"
　　"IhaveamessagetoyoufromyoursonJohn。"
　　Akeyclickedinthelock。Thedooropened，andtheelderofthetwowomenWarwickhadseenuponthepiazzastoodinthedoorway，peeringcuriouslyandwithsignsofgreatexcitementintothefaceofthestranger。
　　"You’vegotamessagefrommyson，yousay？"
　　sheaskedwithtremulousagitation。"Ishesick，orintrouble？"
　　"No。He’swellanddoingwell，andsendshislovetoyou，andhopesyou’venotforgottenhim。"
　　"Fergothim？No，GodknowsIain’tfergothim！Butcomein，sir，an’tellmesomethin’
　　mo’abouthim。"
　　Warwickwentin，andasthewomanclosedthedoorafterhim，hethrewaglanceroundtheroom。
　　Onthewall，overthemantelpiece，hungasteelengravingofGeneralJacksonatthebattleofNewOrleans，and，ontheoppositewall，aframedfashion—platefrom"Godey’sLady’sBook。"Inthemiddleoftheroomanoctagonalcentre—tablewithasingleleg，terminatinginthreesprawlingfeet，heldacollectionofcuriouslyshapedsea—shells。
　　Therewasagreathairclothsofa，somewhattheworseforwear，andawell—filledbookcase。ThescreenstandingbeforethefireplacewascoveredwithConfederatebank—notesofvariousdenominationsanddesigns，inwhichtheheadsofJeffersonDavisandotherConfederateleaderswereconspicuous。
　　"ImperiousCaesar，dead，andturnedtoclay，Mightstopaholetokeepthewindaway，"
　　murmuredtheyoungman，ashiseyefelluponthisspecimenofdecorativeart。
　　Thewomanshowedhervisitortoaseat。Shethensatdownfacinghimandlookedathimclosely。
　　"Whendidyoulastseemyson？"sheasked。
　　"I’venevermetyourson，"hereplied。
　　Herfacefell。"Thenthemessagecomesthroughyoufromsomebodyelse？"
　　"No，directlyfromyourson。"
　　Shescannedhisfacewithapuzzledlook。Thisbeardedyounggentleman，whospokesopolitelyandwasdressedsowell，surely——no，itcouldnotbe！andyet——
　　Warwickwassmilingatherthroughamistoftears。Anelectricsparkofsympathyflashedbetweenthem。Theyroseasifmovedbyoneimpulse，andwereclaspedineachother’sarms。
　　"John，myJohn！ItISJohn！"
　　"Mother——mydearoldmother！"
　　"Ididn’tthink，"shesobbed，"thatI’deverseeyouagain。"
　　Hesmoothedherhairandkissedher。"Andareyougladtoseeme，mother？"
　　"AmIgladtoseeyou？It’slikethedeadcomin’tolife。IthoughtI’dlostyouforever，John，myson，mydarlin’boy！"sheanswered，hugginghimstrenuously。
　　"Icouldn’tlivewithoutseeingyou，mother，"
　　hesaid。Hemeantit，too，orthoughthedid，althoughhehadnotseenherfortenyears。
　　"You’vegrownsotall，John，andaresuchafinegentleman！AndyouAREagentlemannow，John，ain’tyou——sureenough？Nobodyknowstheoldstory？"
　　"Well，mother，I’vetakenaman’schanceinlife，andhavetriedtomakethemostofit；andIhaven’tfeltunderanyobligationtospoilitbyrakingupoldstoriesthatarebestforgotten。
　　Therearethedearoldbooks：havetheybeenreadsinceIwentaway？"
　　"No，honey，there’sbe’nnobodytoread’em，excep’Rena，an’shedon’ttaketobooksquitelikeyoudid。ButI’vekep’’emdustedclean，an’kep’
　　themothsan’thebugsout；forIhopedyou’dcomebacksomeday，an’knowedyou’dliketofind’emallintheirplaces，jus’likeyouleft’em。"
　　"That’smightyniceofyou，mother。Youcouldhavedonenomoreifyouhadlovedthemforthemselves。ButwhereisRena？Isawheronthestreetto—day，butshedidn’tknowmefromAdam；nordidIguessitwassheuntilsheopenedthegateandcameintotheyard。"
　　"I’vebe’nsogladtoseeyouthatI’dfergotabouther，"answeredthemother。"Rena，oh，Rena！"
　　Thegirlwasnotfaraway；shehadbeenstandinginthenextroom，listeningintentlytoeverywordoftheconversation，andonlykeptfromcominginbyacertainconstraintthatmadeabrotherwhomshehadnotmetforsomanyyearsseemalmostasmuchastrangerasifhehadnotbeenconnectedwithherbyanytie。
　　"Yes，mamma，"sheanswered，comingforward。
　　"Rena，child，here’syo’rbrotherJohn，who’scomebacktoseeus。Tell’imhowdy。"
　　Asshecameforward，Warwickrose，puthisarmaroundherwaist，drewhertowardhim，andkissedheraffectionately，toherevidentembarrassment。
　　Shewasatallgirl，buthetoweredaboveherinquiteaprotectingfashion；andshethoughtwithathrillhowfineitwouldbetohavesuchabrotherasthisinthetownallthetime。Howproudshewouldbe，ifshecouldbutwalkupthestreetwithsuchabrotherbyherside！Shecouldthenholdupherheadbeforealltheworld，oblivioustotheglanceofpityorcontempt。Shefeltaverypronouncedrespectforthistallgentlemanwhoheldherblushingfacebetweenhishandsandlookedsteadilyintohereyes。
　　"You’rethelittlesisterIusedtoreadstoriesto，andwhomIpromisedtocomeandseesomeday。DoyourememberhowyoucriedwhenI
　　wentaway？"
　　"Itseemsbutyesterday，"sheanswered。"I’vestillgotthedimeyougaveme。"
　　Hekissedheragain，andthendrewherdownbesidehimonthesofa，wherehesatenthronedbetweenthetwolovingandexcitedwomen。Nokingcouldhavereceivedmoresincereordelightedhomage。Hewasaman，comeintoahouseholdofwomen，——amanofwhomtheywereproud，andtowhomtheylookedupwithfondreverence。
　　Forhewasnotonlyason，——abrother——butherepresentedtothemtheworldfromwhichcircumstanceshadshutthemout，andtowhichdistancelentevenmorethanitsusualenchantment；andtheyfeltnearertothisfar—offworldbecauseoftheglorywhichWarwickreflectedfromit。
　　"You’reaveryprettygirl，"saidWarwick，regardinghissisterthoughtfully。"IfollowedyoudownFrontStreetthismorning，andscarcelytookmyeyesoffyoualltheway；andyetI
　　didn’tknowyou，andscarcelysawyourface。
　　Youimproveonacquaintance；to—night，Ifindyouhandsomerstill。"
　　"Now，John，"saidhismother，expostulatingmildly，"you’llspileher，ifyoudon’tmin’。"
　　Thegirlwasbeamingwithgratifiedvanity。
　　Whatwomanwouldnotfindsuchpraisesweetfromalmostanysource，andhowmuchmoresofromthisgreatman，who，fromhisexaltedstationintheworld，mustsurelyknowthethingswhereofhespoke！Shebelievedeverywordofit；sheknewitverywellindeed，butwishedtohearitrepeatedanditemizedandemphasized。
　　"No，hewon’t，mamma，"sheasserted，"forhe’sflatteringme。HetalksasifIwassomerichyounglady，wholivesontheHill，"——theHillwasthearistocraticportionofthetown，——
　　"insteadofapoor"
　　"Insteadofapooryounggirl，whohasthehilltoclimb，"repliedherbrother，smoothingherhairwithhishand。Herhairwaslongandsmoothandglossy，withawaveliketherippleofasummerbreezeuponthesurfaceofstillwater。Itwasthegirl’sgreatpride，andhadbeensedulouslycaredfor。"Whatlovelyhair！Ithasjustthewavethatyourslacks，mother。"
　　"Yes，"wastheregretfulreply，"I’veneverbe’nabletogitthatwaveout。Butherhair’sbe’ntookgoodcareof，an’thereain’tnarygalintownthat’sgotanyfiner。"
　　"Don’tworryaboutthewave，mother。It’sjustthefashionableripple，andbecomesherimmensely。IthinkmylittleAlbertfavorshisAuntRenasomewhat。"
　　"YourlittleAlbert！"theycried。"You’vegotachild？"
　　"Oh，yes，"herepliedcalmly，"averyfinebabyboy。"
　　Theybegantopurrinproudcontentmentatthisinformation，andmademinuteinquiriesabouttheageandweightandeyesandnoseandotherimportantdetailsofthispreciousinfant。Theyinquiredmorecoldlyaboutthechild’smother，ofwhomtheyspokewithgreaterwarmthwhentheylearnedthatshewasdead。TheyhungbreathlessonWarwick’swordsasherelatedbrieflythestoryofhislifesincehehadleft，yearsbefore，thehousebehindthecedars——howwithastoutheartandanaboundinghopehehadgoneoutintoaseeminglyhostileworld，andmadefortunestandanddeliver。Hisstoryhadforthewomenthecharmofanescapefromcaptivity，withallthethrillofapirate’stale。Withthewholeworldbeforehim，hehadremainedintheSouth，thelandofhisfathers，where，heconceived，hehadaninalienablebirthright。BysomegoodchancehehadescapedmilitaryserviceintheConfederatearmy，and，indefaultofolderandmoreexperiencedmen，hadundertaken，duringtherebellion，themanagementofalargeestate，whichhadbeenleftinthehandsofwomenandslaves。Hehadfilledtheplacesoacceptably，andemployedhisleisuretosuchadvantage，thatatthecloseofthewarhefoundhimself——hewasmodestenoughtothink，too，indefaultofabetterman——thehusbandoftheorphandaughterofthegentlemanwhohadownedtheplantation，andwhohadlosthislifeuponthebattlefield。Warwick’swifewasofgoodfamily，andinamoresettledconditionofsocietyitwouldnothavebeeneasyforayoungmanofnovisibleantecedentstowinherhand。Ayearortwolater，hehadtakentheoathofallegiance，andhadbeenadmittedtotheSouthCarolinabar。Richinhiswife’sright，hehadbeenabletopracticehisprofessionuponahighplane，withouttheworryofsordidcares，andwithmarkedsuccessforoneofhisage。
　　"Isuppose，"heconcluded，"thatIhavegotalongatthebar，aselsewhere，owingtothelackofbettermen。Manyofthegoodlawyerswerekilledinthewar，andmostoftheremainderweredisqualified；whileIhadtheadvantageofbeingalive，andofneverhavingbeeninarmsagainstthegovernment。Peoplehadtohavelawyers，andtheygavemetheirbusinessinpreferencetothecarpet—
　　baggers。Fortune，youknow，favorstheavailableman。"
　　Hismotherdrankinwithpartedlipsandglisteningeyesthestoryofhisadventuresandtherecordofhissuccesses。AsRenalistened，thenarrowwallsthathemmedherinseemedtodrawcloserandcloser，asthoughtheymustcrushher。
　　Herbrotherwatchedherkeenly。Hehadbeentalkingnotonlytoinformthewomen，butwithadeeperpurpose，conceivedsincehismorningwalk，anddeepenedashehadfollowed，duringhisnarrative，thechangingexpressionofRena’sfaceandnotedherintenseinterestinhisstory，herprideinhissuccesses，andtheoccasionalwistfullookthatindexedherself—pitysocompletely。
　　"An’Is’poseyou’rehappy，John？"askedhismother。
　　"Well，mother，happinessisarelativeterm，anddepends，Iimagine，uponhownearlywethinkwegetwhatwethinkwewant。Ihavehadmychanceandhaven’tthrownitaway，andIsupposeIoughttobehappy。Butthen，Ihavelostmywife，whomIlovedverydearly，andwholovedmejustasmuch，andI’mtroubledaboutmychild。"
　　"Why？"theydemanded。"Isthereanythingthematterwithhim？"
　　"No，notexactly。He’swellenough，asbabiesgo，andhasagoodenoughnurse，asnursesgo。
　　Butthenurseisignorant，andnotalwayscareful。
　　Achildneedssomewomanofitsownbloodtoloveitandlookafteritintelligently。"
　　Mis’Molly’seyeswerefilledwithtearfulyearning。
　　Shewouldhavegivenalltheworldtowarmherson’schilduponherbosom；butsheknewthiscouldnotbe。
　　"Didyourwifeleaveanykin？"sheaskedwithaneffort。
　　"Nonearkin；shewasanonlychild。"
　　"You’llbegettin’marriedagain，"suggestedhismother。
　　"No，"hereplied；"Ithinknot。"
　　Warwickwasstillreadinghissister’sface，andsawthesparkofhopethatgleamedinherexpressiveeye。
　　"IfIhadsomerelationofmyownthatIcouldtakeintothehousewithme，"hesaidreflectively，"thechildmightbehealthierandhappier，andI
　　shouldbemuchmoreateaseabouthim。"
　　Themotherlookedfromsontodaughterwithadawningapprehensionandasuddenpallor。WhenshesawtheyearninginRena’seyes，shethrewherselfatherson’sfeet。
　　"Oh，John，"shecrieddespairingly，"don’ttakeherawayfromme！Don’ttakeher，John，darlin’，forit’dbreakmyhearttoloseher！"
　　Rena’sarmswereroundhermother’sneck，andRena’svoicewassoundinginherears。"There，there，mamma！Nevermind！Iwon’tleaveyou，mamma——dearoldmamma！YourRena’llstaywithyoualways，andnever，neverleaveyou。"
　　Johnsmoothedhismother’shairwithacomfortingtouch，pattedherwitheredcheeksoothingly，liftedhertenderlytoherplacebyhisside，andputhisarmabouther。
　　"Youloveyourchildren，mother？"
　　"They’reallI’vegot，"shesobbed，"an’theycos’meallIhad。Whenthelas’one’sgone，I’llwanttogotoo，forI’llbeallaloneintheworld。
　　Don’ttakeRena，John；forifyoudo，I’llneverseeheragain，an’Ican’tbeartothinkofit。Howwouldyouliketoloseyo’ronechild？"
　　"Well，well，mother，we’llsaynomoreaboutit。Andnowtellmeallaboutyourself，andabouttheneighbors，andhowyougotthroughthewar，andwho’sdeadandwho’smarried——andeverything。"
　　ThechangeofsubjectrestoredinsomedegreeMis’Molly’sequanimity，andwithreturningcalmnesscameasenseofotherresponsibilities。
　　"Goodgracious，Rena！"sheexclaimed。
　　"John’sbe’ninthehouseanhour，andain’thadnothin’toeatyet！Gointhekitchenan’spreadacleantablecloth，an’gitoutthat’taterpone，an’
　　apitchero’thatlas’kago’persimmonbeer，an’
　　letJohntakeabitean’asip。"
　　Warwicksmiledatthementionofthesehomelydainties。"Ithoughtofyoursweet—potatoponeatthehotelto—day，whenIwasatdinner，andwonderedifyou’dhavesomeinthehouse。Therewasneveranylikeyours；andI’veforgottenthetasteofpersimmonbeerentirely。"
　　Renalefttheroomtocarryoutherhospitablecommission。Warwick，takingadvantageofherabsence，returnedafterawhiletotheformersubject。
　　"Ofcourse，mother，"hesaidcalmly，"I
　　wouldn’tthinkoftakingRenaawayagainstyourwishes。Amother’sclaimuponherchildisahighandholyone。Ofcourseshewillhavenochancehere，whereourstoryisknown。Thewarhaswroughtgreatchanges，hasputthebottomrailontop，andallthat——butithasn’twipedTHATout。
　　Nothingbutdeathcanremovethatstain，ifitdoesnotfollowusevenbeyondthegrave。Hereshemustforeverbe——nobody！Withmeshemighthavegotoutintotheworld；withherbeautyshemighthavemadeagoodmarriage；and，ifImistakenot，shehassenseaswellasbeauty。"
　　"Yes，"sighedthemother，"she’sgotgoodsense。Sheain’tasquickasyouwas，an’don’treadasmanybooks，butshe’skeerfulan’painstakin’，an’alwaystriestodowhat’sright。She’sbe’nthinkin’aboutgoin’awaysomewherean’
　　tryin’togitaschooltoteach，ersomethin’，sencetheYankeeshavestarted’emeverywhereforpo’
　　whitefolksan’niggerstoo。ButIdon’tlikeferhertogotoofur。"
　　"Withsuchbeautyandbrains，"continuedWarwick，"shecouldleavethistownandmakeaplaceforherself。Theplaceisalreadymade。
　　Shehasonlytostepintomycarriage——afterperhapsalittlepreparation——andrideupthehillwhichIhavehadtoclimbsopainfully。Itwouldbeagreatpleasuretometoseeheratthetop。
　　Butofcourseitisimpossible——amereidledream。
　　YOURclaimcomesfirst；herdutychainsherhere。"
　　"Itwouldbesolonelywithouther，"murmuredthemotherweakly，"an’Iloveherso——mylas’
　　one！"
　　"Nodoubt——nodoubt，"returnedWarwick，withasympatheticsigh；"ofcourseyouloveher。
　　It’snottobethoughtofforamoment。It’sapitythatshecouldn’thaveachancehere——buthowcouldshe！Ihadthoughtshemightmarryagentleman，butIdaresayshe’lldoaswellastherestofherfriends——aswellasMaryB。，forinstance，whomarried——HomerPettifoot，didyousay？OrmaybeBillyOxendinemightdoforher。
　　Aslongasshehasneverknownanybetter，she’llprobablybeaswellsatisfiedasthoughshemarriedarichman，andlivedinafinehouse，andkeptacarriageandservants，andmovedwiththebestintheland。"
　　Thetorturedmothercouldendurenomore。
　　Theonethingshedesiredaboveallotherswasherdaughter’shappiness。Herownlifehadnotbeengovernedbythehigheststandards，butaboutherloveforherbeautifuldaughtertherewasnotaintofselfishness。Thelifehersonhaddescribedhadbeentoheralwaystheidealbutunattainablelife。
　　Circumstances，somebeyondhercontrol，andothersforwhichshewasherselfinameasureresponsible，hadputitforeverandinconceivablybeyondherreach。Ithadbeenconqueredbyherson。Itbeckonedtoherdaughter。Thecomparisonofthisfreeandnoblelifewiththesordidexistenceofthosearoundherbrokedownthelastbarrierofopposition。
　　"OLord！"shemoaned，"whatshallIdowithouther？It’llbelonely，John——solonely！"
　　"You’llhaveyourhome，mother，"saidWarwicktenderly，acceptingtheimpliedsurrender。
　　"You’llhaveyourfriendsandrelatives，andtheknowledgethatyourchildrenarehappy。I’llletyouhearfromusoften，andnodoubtyoucanseeRenanowandthen。Butyoumustlethergo，mother，——itwouldbeasinagainsthertorefuse。"
　　"Shemaygo，"repliedthemotherbrokenly。
　　"I’llnotstandinherway——I’vegotsinsenoughtoanswerforalready。"
　　Warwickwatchedherpityingly。Hehadstirredherfeelingstounwonteddepths，andhissympathywentouttoher。Ifshehadsinned，shehadbeenmoresinnedagainstthansinning，anditwasnothisparttojudgeher。HehadyieldedtoasentimentalweaknessindecidinguponthistriptoPatesville。Amatterofbusinesshadbroughthimwithinaday’sjourneyofthetown，andanover—
　　masteringimpulsehadcompelledhimtoseekthemotherwhohadgivenhimbirthandtheoldtownwherehehadspenttheearlieryearsofhislife。
　　Noonewouldhaveacknowledgedsoonerthanhethefollyofthisvisit。Menwhohaveelectedtogoverntheirlivesbyprinciplesofabstractrightandreason，whichhappen，perhaps，tobeatvariancewithwhatsocietyconsidersequallyrightandreasonable，should，forfearofcomplications，becarefulaboutdescendingfromtheloftyheightsoflogictothecommonlevelofimpulseandaffection。
　　Manyyearsbefore，Warwick，whenaladofeighteen，hadshakenthedustofthetownfromhisfeet，andwithit，hefondlythought，theblightofhisinheritance，andhadachievedelsewhereaworthycareer。Butduringalltheseyearsofabsencehehadcherishedatenderfeelingforhismother，andnowagainfoundhimselfinherhouse，amidthefamiliarsurroundingsofhischildhood。Hisvisithadbroughtjoytohismother’sheart，andwasnowtobringitsshroudedcompanion，sorrow。Hismotherhadlivedherlife，forgoodorill。Awiderdoorwasopentohissister——hermothermustnotbartheentrance。
　　"Shemaygo，"themotherrepeatedsadly，dryinghertears。"I’llgiveherupforhergood。"
　　"Thetable’sready，mamma，"saidRena，comingtothedoor。
　　Thelunchwasspreadinthekitchen，alargeunplasteredroomattherear，withawidefireplaceatoneend。Onlyyesterday，itseemedtoWarwick，hehadsprawleduponthehearth，turningsweetpotatoesbeforethefire，orroastinggroundpeasintheashes；or，moreoften，reading，bythelightofablazingpine—knotorlumpofresin，somevolumefromthebookcaseinthehall。FromBulwer’snovel，hehadreadthestoryofWarwicktheKingmaker，anduponleavinghomehadchosenitforhisown。Hewasanewman，buthehadthebloodofanoldrace，andhewouldselectforhisownoneofitsworthynames。Overheadloomedthesamesmokybeams，decoratedwithwhatmighthavebeen，fromallappearances，thesamebunchesofdriedherbs，thesamestringsofonionsandredpeppers。Overinthesamecornerstoodthesamespinning—wheel，andthroughtheopendoorofanadjoiningroomhesawtheoldloom，whereinchildhoodhehadmorethanoncethrowntheshuttle。
　　Thekitchenwasdifferentfromthestatelydining—roomoftheoldcolonialmansionwherehenowlived；butitwashomelike，anditwasfamiliar。
　　Thesightofitmovedhisheart，andhefeltforthemomentasortofablindangeragainstthefatewhichmadeitnecessarythatheshouldvisitthehomeofhischildhood，ifatall，likeathiefinthenight。Butherealized，afteramoment，thatthethoughtwaspuresentiment，andthatonewhohadgainedsomuchoughtnottocomplainifhemustgiveupalittle。Hewhowouldclimbtheheightsoflifemustleaveeventhepleasantestvalleysbehind。
　　"Rena，"askedhermother，"how’dyouliketogoan’payyo’rbrotherJohnavisit？IguessI
　　mightspareyouforalittlewhile。"
　　Thegirl’seyeslightedup。Shewouldnothavegoneifhermotherhadwishedhertostay，butshewouldalwayshaveregardedthisasthelostopportunityofherlife。
　　"Areyousureyoudon’tcare，mamma？"sheasked，hopingandyetdoubting。
　　"Oh，I’llmanagetogitalongsomehoworother。
　　Youcangoan’staytillyougithomesick，an’thenJohn’llletyoucomebackhome。"
　　ButMis’Mollybelievedthatshewouldnevercomeback，except，likeherbrother，undercoverofthenight。Shemustloseherdaughteraswellasherson，andthisshouldbethepenanceforhersin。
　　Thatherchildrenmustexpiateaswellthesinsoftheirfathers，whohadsinnedsolightly，afterthemannerofmen，neithershenortheycouldforesee，sincetheycouldnotreadthefuture。
　　ThenextboatbywhichWarwickcouldtakehissisterawayleftearlyinthemorningofthenextdaybutone。HewentbacktohishotelwiththeunderstandingthatthemorrowshouldbedevotedtogettingRenareadyforherdeparture，andthatWarwickwouldvisitthehouseholdagainthefollowingevening；for，ashasbeenintimated，therewereseveralreasonswhythereshouldbenoopenrelationsbetweenthefinegentlemanatthehotelandthewomeninthehousebehindthecedars，who，whilesuperiorinbloodandbreedingtothepeopleoftheneighborhoodinwhichtheylived，wereyetundertheshadowofsomecloudwhichclearlyshutthemoutfromthebettersocietyofthetown。Almostanyresidentcouldhavegivenoneormoreofthesereasons，ofwhichanyonewouldhavebeensufficienttomostofthem；andtosomeofthemWarwick’smerepresenceinthetownwouldhaveseemedaboldanddaringthing。
　　III
　　THEOLDJUDGE
　　Onthemorningfollowingthevisittohismother，Warwickvisitedtheoldjudge’soffice。
　　Thejudgewasnotin，butthedoorstoodopen，andWarwickenteredtoawaithisreturn。Therehadbeenfewerchangesintheoffice，wherehehadspentmany，manyhours，thaninthetownitself。
　　Thedustwasalittlethicker，thepapersinthepigeon—holesofthewalnutdeskwerealittleyellower，thecobwebsinthecornersalittlemoreaggressive。Thefliesdronedasdrowsilyandthemurmurofthebrookbelowwasjustasaudible。
　　Warwickstoodattherearwindowandlookedoutoverafamiliarview。Directlyacrossthecreek，onthelowgroundbeyond，mightbeseenthedilapidatedstonefoundationofthehousewhereoncehadlivedFloraMacdonald，theJacobiterefugee，themostromanticcharacterofNorthCarolinahistory。OldJudgeStraighthadhadatreecutawayfromthecreek—sideoppositehiswindow，sothatthishistoricruinmightbevisiblefromhisoffice；forthejudgecouldtracethetiesofbloodthatconnectedhimcollaterallywiththisfamouspersonage。HispamphletonFloraMacdonald，printedforprivatecirculation，washighlyprizedbythoseofhisfriendswhowerefortunateenoughtoobtainacopy。Totheleftofthewindowaplacidmill—pondspreaditswideexpanse，andtotherightthecreekdisappearedunderacanopyofoverhangingtrees。
　　Afootstepsoundedinthedoorway，andWarwick，turning，facedtheoldjudge。Timehadleftgreatermarksuponthelawyerthanuponhisoffice。
　　Hishairwaswhiter，hisstoopmorepronounced；
　　whenhespoketoWarwick，hisvoicehadsomeoftheshrillnessofoldage；andinhishand，uponwhichtheveinsstoodoutprominently，adecidedtremorwasperceptible。
　　"Good—morning，JudgeStraight，"saidtheyoungman，removinghishatwiththegracefulSoutherndeferenceoftheyoungfortheold。
　　"Good—morning，sir，"repliedthejudgewithequalcourtesy。
　　"Youdon’trememberme，Iimagine，"suggestedWarwick。
　　"Yourfaceseemsfamiliar，"returnedthejudgecautiously，"butIcannotforthemomentrecallyourname。Ishallbegladtohaveyourefreshmymemory。"
　　"IwasJohnWalden，sir，whenyouknewme。"
　　Thejudge’sfacestillgavenoansweringlightofrecognition。
　　"Youroldoffice—boy，"continuedtheyoungerman。
　　"Ah，indeed，soyouwere！"rejoinedthejudgewarmly，extendinghishandwithgreatcordiality，andinspectingWarwickmorecloselythroughhisspectacles。"Letmesee——youwentawayafewyearsbeforethewar，wasn’tit？"
　　"Yes，sir，toSouthCarolina。"
　　"Yes，yes，Iremembernow！IhadbeenthinkingitwastotheNorth。Somanythingshavehappenedsincethen，thatittaxesanoldman’smemorytokeeptrackofthemall。Well，well！andhowhaveyoubeengettingalong？"
　　Warwicktoldhisstoryinoutline，muchashehadgivenittohismotherandsister，andthejudgeseemedverymuchinterested。
　　"Andyoumarriedintoagoodfamily？"heasked。
　　"Yes，sir。"
　　"Andhavechildren？"
　　"One。"
　　"Andyouarevisitingyourmother？"
　　"Notexactly。Ihaveseenher，butIamstoppingatahotel。"
　　"H’m！Areyoustayinglong？"
　　"Ileaveto—morrow。"
　　"It’swellenough。Iwouldn’tstaytoolong。
　　Thepeopleofasmalltownareinquisitiveaboutstrangers，andsomeofthemhavelongmemories。
　　Irememberwewentoverthelaw，whichwasinyourfavor；butcustomisstrongerthanlaw——inthesematterscustomISlaw。Itwasagreatpitythatyourfatherdidnotmakeawill。Well，myboy，Iwishyoucontinuedgoodluck；Iimaginedyouwouldmakeyourway。"
　　Warwickwentaway，andtheoldjudgesatforamomentabsorbedinreflection。"Rightandwrong，"hemused，"mustbeeternalverities，butourstandardsformeasuringthemvarywithourlatitudeandourepoch。Wemakeourcustomslightly；oncemade，likeoursins，theygripusinbandsofsteel；webecomethecreaturesofourcreations。Byonestandardmyoldoffice—boyshouldneverhavebeenborn。YetheisasonofAdam，andcameintoexistenceinthewayordainedbyGodfromthebeginningoftheworld。
　　Inequityhewouldseemtobeentitledtohischanceinlife；itmighthavebeenwiser，though，forhimtoseekitfartherafieldthanSouthCarolina。Itwastoonearhome，eventhoughthelawswerewithhim。"
　　IV
　　DOWNTHERIVER
　　NeithermothernordaughtersleptagreatdealduringthenightofWarwick’sfirstvisit。
　　Mis’Mollyanointedhersacrificewithtearsandcriedherselftosleep。Rena’semotionsweremoreconflicting；shewassorrytoleavehermother，butgladtogowithherbrother。Themerejourneyshewasabouttomakewasagreateventforthetwowomentocontemplate，tosaynothingofthegoldenvisionthatlaybeyond，forneitherofthemhadeverbeenoutofthetownoritsvicinity。
　　Thenextdaywasdevotedtopreparationsforthejourney。Rena’sslenderwardrobewasmadereadyandpackedinalargevalise。Towardssunset，Mis’Mollytookoffherapron，putonherslat—bonnet，——shewaseverthepinkofneatness，——pickedherwayacrossthestreet，whichwasmuddyfromarainduringtheday，traversedthefoot—bridgethatspannedtheditchinfrontofthecoopershop，andspokefirsttotheelderofthetwomenworkingthere。
　　"Good—evenin’，Peter。"
　　"Good—evenin’，ma’m，"respondedthemanbriefly，andnotrelaxingatalltheenergywithwhichhewastrimmingabarrel—stave。
　　Mis’Mollythenaccostedtheyoungerworkman，adark—brownyoungman，smallinstature，butwithawell—shapedhead，anexpressiveforehead，andfeaturesindicativeofkindness，intelligence，humor，andimagination。"Frank，"sheasked，"canIgityoutodosomethin’fermesooninthemo’nin’？"
　　"Yas’m，Ireckonso，"repliedtheyoungman，restinghishatchetonthechopping—block。"W’atisit，Mis’Molly？"
　　"Mydaughter’sgoin’awayontheboat，an’I
　　’lowedyouwouldn’min’totin’herkyarpet—bagdowntothew’arf，onlessyou’drutherhaulitdownonyo’rkyart。Itain’tveryheavy。Ofco’seI’llpayyouferyo’rtrouble。"
　　"Thanky’，ma’m，"hereplied。Heknewthatshewouldnotpayhim，forthesimplereasonthathewouldnotacceptpayforsuchaservice。"Isshegwinefur？"heasked，withasorrowfullook，whichhecouldnotentirelydisguise。
　　"AsfurasWilmin’tonan’beyon’。She’llbevisitin’herbrotherJohn，wholivesin——anotherState，an’wantshertocomean’seehim。"
　　"Yas’m，I’llcome。Iwon’needdekyart——
　　I’lltotedebag。’Boutw’attimeshillIcomeover？"
　　"Well，’long’boutseveno’clockorhalfpas’。
　　She’sgoin’ontheOldNorthState，an’itleavesateight。"
　　FrankstoodlookingafterMis’Mollyasshepickedherwayacrossthestreet，untilhewasrecalledtohisdutybyasharpwordfromhisfather。
　　"’Ten’teryo’wuk，boy，’ten’teryo’wuk。You’rewastin’yo’time——wastin’yo’time！"
　　Yes，hewaswastinghistime。Thebeautifulyounggirlacrossthestreetcouldneverbeanythingtohim。Buthehadsavedherlifeonce，andhaddreamedthathemightrenderheragainsomesignalservicethatmightwinherfriendship，andconvinceherofhishumbledevotion。ForFrankwasnotproud。Asmile，whichPeterwouldhaveregardedascondescendingtoafreeman，who，sincethewar，wasasgoodasanybodyelse；akindword，whichPeterwouldhaveconsideredoffensivelypatronizing；apieceofMis’
　　Molly’sfamouspotatoponefromRena’shands，——abonetoadog，Petercalleditonce；——wereamplerewardsforthethousandandonesmallservicesFrankhadrenderedthetwowomenwholivedinthehousebehindthecedars。