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THE LEOPARD'S SPOTS

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"TWO THOUSAND M?N WENT MAD.

Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the leopard his spots f

The
Leopard's Spots

A ROMANCE OF THE WHITE
MAN'S BURDEN — 1865 -1900

BY

THOMAS DIXON, Jr.

Author of u The One Woman M
ILLUSTRATED BY C. D. WILLIAMS

NEW YORK

A* WESSELS COMPANY

1906

Copyright, loot, by
Dsubleriay, Page & Company

Att rights reserve J
Published, March 3, 190A

PRESS OF

BRAUNWORTH & CO.

BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS

BROOKLYN, N. Y-

TO

HARRIET

SWBET-VOICED DAUGHTER OF THE'
OLD-FASHIONED SOUTH

Historical Note

In answer to hundreds of letters, I wish to say that all the
incidents used in Book I., which is properly the prologue of
my story, were selected from authentic records, or came
within my personal knowledge.

The only serious liberty I have taken with history is to
tone down the facts to make them credible in fiction. The
village of " Hamb right " is my birthplace, and is located
near the center of " Military District No. 2," comprising
the Carolinas, which were destroyed as States by an Act of
Congress in 1867. It will be a century yet before people
outside the South can be made to believe a literal statement
of the history of those times.

I tried to write this book with the utmost restraint.

THOMAS DIXON, Jr.

May 9, 1902,

Elmington Manor,

Dixondale, Va.

CONTENTS

BOOK I

CHAPTER PAGE

I. A Hero Returns 3

II. A Light Shining in Darkness ... 19

III. Deepening Shadows ..... 30

IV. Mr. Lincoln's Dream 34

V. The Old and the New Church ... 38

VI. The Preacher and the Woman of Boston . 44

VII. The Heart of a Child ..... 52

VIII. An Experiment in Matrimony ... 58

IX. A Master of Men ...... 63

X. The Man or Brute in Embryo ... 72

XI. Simon Legree ....... 84

XII. Red Snowdrops . 94

XIII Dick 99

XIV. The Negro Uprising 101

XV. The New Citizen King 105

XVI. Legree Speaker of the House . . . .110

XVII. The Second Reign of Terror .... 119

XVIII. The Red Flag of the Auctioneer . . . 131

XIX. The Rally of the Clansmen .... 144

XX. How Civilisation Was Saved .... 155

XXI. The Old and the New Negro .... 165

XXII. The Danger of Playing with Fire . . 167

XXIII. The Birth of a Scalawag .... 173

XXIV. A Modern Miracle 178

XI

atn

Contents — Continued

BOOK II

JLobt'0 ZDttam

CHAPTER

I. Blue Eyes and Black Hair
II. The Voice of the Tempter

III. Flora ....

IV. The One Woman
V. The Morning of Love

VI. Beside Beautiful Waters
VII. Dreams and Fears . .
"VIII. The Unsolved Riddle
IX. The Rhythm of the Dance
X. The Heart of a Villain
XI. The Old, Old Story
XII. The Music of the Mills .
XIII. The First Kiss .
XIV. A Mysterious Letter
XV. A Blow in the Dark .
XVI. The Mystery of Pain
XVII. Is God Omnipotent?
XVIII. The Ways of Boston
XIX. The Shadow of a Doubt .
XX. A New Lesson in Love
XXI. Why the Preacher Threw His Life
XXII. The Flesh and the Spirit

PAGE
187

195
202

208

215
223

236

242

246

258

267

28o

286

29O

294

304

309

3*3
320

323
Away 331

. 340

Contents — Concluded

Xlll

BOOK III

C6* Crial by JFtte

CHAPTER

I. A Growl Beneath the Earth .
II. Face to Face with Fate

III. A White Lie

IV. The Unspoken Terror
V. A Thousand-legged Beast

VI. The Black Peril ....
VII. Equality with a Reservation
VIII. The New Simon Legree .
IX. The New America ....
X. Another Declaration of Independence
XI. The' Heart of a Woman
XII. The Splendour of Shameless Love

XIII. A Speech That Made History .

XIV. The Red Shirts ....
XV. The Higher Law ....

XVI. The End of a Modern Villain
XVII. Wedding Bells in the Governor's Mansion

page

35o
355
365
36S

376
385
389
399

40S

4i3
421
427
435
449
45i
459
461

LEADING CHARACTERS OF THE STORY

Scene: The Foothills of North Carolina — Boston — New York
Time: From 1865 to 1900

Charles Gaston Who dreams of a Governor's Mansion

Sallie Worth A daughter of the old-fashioned South

Gen. Daniel Worth Her father

Mrs. Worth Sallie's mother

The Rev. John Durham .... A preacher who threw his life away
Mrs. Durham. .Of the Southern Army that never surrendered

Tom Camp A one-legged Confederate soldier

Flora , Tom's little daughter

Simon Legree Ex-slave driver and Reconstruction leader

Allan McLeod A scalawag

Hon. Everett Lowell Member of Congress from Boston

Helen Lowell His daughter

Miss Susan Walker A maiden of Boston

Major Stuart Dameron Chief of the Ku Klux Klan

Hose Norman A dare-devil poor white man

Nelse A black hero of the old regime

Aunt Eve His wife — "a respectable woman"

Hon. Tim Shelby Political boss of the new era

Hon. Pete Sawyer. . . .Sold seven times, got the money once

George Harris, Jr An educated Negro, son of Eliza

Dick An unsolved riddle

LEGREE'S REGIME

THE LEOPARD'S SPOTS

Booft 1 — leeree'0 IRegime

CHAPTER I
A HERO RETURNS

ON the field of Appomattox General Lee was
waiting the return of a courier. His handsome
face was clouded by the deepening shadows of
defeat. Rumours of surrender had spread like wildfire,
and the ranks of his once invincible army were breaking
into chaos.

Suddenly the measured tread of a brigade was heard
marching into action, every movement quick with the
perfect discipline, the fire, and the passion of the first
days of the triumphant Confederacy.

"What brigade is that?" he sharply asked.

"Cox's North Carolina," an aid replied.

As the troops swept steadily past the General, his eyes
filled with tears, he lifted his hat, and exclaimed,

"God bless old North Carolina!"

The display of matchless discipline perhaps recalled to
the great commander that awful day of Gettysburg when
the Twenty-sixth North Carolina infantry had charged
with 820 men rank and file and left 704 dead and
wounded on the ground that night. Company F from
Campbell County charged with 91 men and lost every
man killed and wounded. Fourteen times their colours
were shot down, and fourteen times raised again. The

4 The Leopard's Spots

last time they fell from the hands of gallant Colonel
Harry Burgwyn, twenty-one years old, commander of
the regiment, who seized them and was holding them
aloft when instantly killed.

The last act of the tragedy had closed. Johnston
surrendered to Sherman at Greensboro on April 26,
1865, and the Civil War ended — the bloodiest, most
destructive war the world ever saw. The earth had
been baptised in the blood of five hundred thousand
heroic soldiers, and a new map of the world had been
made.

The ragged troops were straggling home from Greens-
boro and Appomattox along the country roads. There
were no mails, telegraph lines or railroads. The men
were telling the story of the surrender. White-faced
women dressed in coarse homespun met them at their
doors and with quivering lips heard the news.

Surrender !

A new word in the vocabulary of the South — a word so
terrible in its meaning that the date of its birth was to
be the landmark of time. Henceforth all events would
be reckoned from this; "before the Surrender," or
"after the Surrender."

Desolation everywhere marked the end of an era.
Not a cow, a sheep, a horse, a fowl or a sign of animal
life save here and there a stray dog, to be seen. Grim
chimneys marked the site of once fair homes. Hedge-
rows of tangled blackberry brier and bushes showed
where a fence had stood before war breathed upon the
land with its breath of fire and harrowed it with teeth
of steel.

These tramping soldiers looked worn and dispirited.
Their shoulders stooped; they were dirty and hungry.
They looked worse than they felt, and they felt that the
end of the world had come.

A Hero Returns 5

They had answered those awful commands to charge
without a murmur; and then, rolled back upon a sea of
blood, they charged again over the dead bodies of their
comrades. When repulsed the second time and the
mad cry for a third charge from some desperate com-
mander had rung over the field, still without a word they
pulled their old ragged hats down close over their eyes as
though to shut out the hail of bullets, and, through level
sheets of blinding flame, walked straight into the jaws
of hell. This had been easy. Now their feet seemed to
falter as though they were not sure of the road.

In every one of these soldiers' hearts, and over all the
earth, hung the shadow of the freed Negro, transformed
by the exigency of war from a Chattel, to be bought
and sold, into a possible Beast to be feared and guarded.
Around this dusky figure every white man's soul was
keeping its grim vigil.

North Carolina, the typical American Democracy,
had loved peace and sought in vain to stand between
the mad passions of the Cavalier of the South and the
Puritan fanatic of the North. She entered the war at
last with a sorrowful heart, but a soul clear in the sense
of tragic duty. She sent more boys to the front than
any other state of the Confederacy — and left more dead
on the field. She made the last charge and fired the
last volley for Lee's army at Appomattox.

These were the ragged country boys who were slowly
tramping homeward. The group whose fortunes we
are to follow were marching toward the little village
of Kambright that nestled in the foothills of the Blue
Ridge under the shadows of King's Mountain. They
were the sons of the men who had first declared their
independence of Great Britain in America and had made
their country a hornet's nest for Lord Cornwallis in the
darkest days of the cause of Liberty. What tongue

6 The Leopard's Spots

can tell the tragic story of their humble home coming ?
In rich Northern cities could be heard the boom of
guns, the scream of steam whistles, the shouts of surging
hosts greeting returning regiments crowned with victory.
From every flagstaff fluttered proudly the flag that our
fathers had lifted in the sky — the flag that had never
met defeat.

It is little wonder that in this hour of triumph the
world should forget the defeated soldiers who, without
a dollar in their pockets, were tramping to their ruined
homes.

Yet Nature did not seem to know of sorrow or death.
Birds were singing their love songs from the hedgerows,
the fields were clothed in gorgeous robes of wild flowers,
beneath which forget-me-nots spread their contrasting
hues of blue, while life was busy in bud and starting leaf,
reclothing the blood-stained earth in radiant beauty.

As the sun was setting behind the peaks of the Blue
Ridge, a giant negro entered the village of Hambright.
He walked rapidly down one of the principal streets,
passed the court-house square unobserved in the gather-
ing twilight, and three blocks farther along paused before
a law-office that stood in the corner of a beautiful lawn
filled with shrubbery and flowers.

"Dar's de ole home, praise de Lawd! En now I*se
erfeard ter see my Missy, en tell her Marse Charles's
daid. Hit '11 kill her. Lawd hab mussy on my po' black
soul! How kin I!"

He walked softly up the alley that led toward the
kitchen past the "big" house, which after all was a
modest cottage boarded up and down with weatherstrips
nestling amid a labyrinth of climbing roses, honey-
suckles, fruit-bearing shrubbery and balsam trees.
The negro had no difficulty in concealing his movements
as he passed.

A Hero Returns 7

"Lordy, dar's Missy watchin' at de winder! How
pale she look ! En she wuz de purties' bride in de two
counties. God-der-mighty, I mils' git somebody ter
he'p me. I nebber tell her. She drap daid right 'fore
my eyes, en hant me twell I die. I run fetch de Preacher,
Marse John Durham; he kin tell her."

A few moments later he was knocking at the door of
the parsonage of the Baptist church.

"Nelse! At last! I knew you'd come!"

"Yassir, Marse John, I'se home. Hit's me."

"And your Master is dead. I was sure of it, but I
never dared tell your Mistress. You came for me to help
you tell her. People said you had gone over into the
promised land of freedom and forgotten your people;
but, Nelse, I never believed it of you, and I'm doubly
glad to shake your hand to-night because you've brought
a brave message from heroic lips and because you have
brought a braver message in your honest black face of
faith and duty and life and love."

"Thankee, Marse John; I wuz erbleeged ter come
home."

The Preacher stepped into the hall and called the
servant from the kitchen.

"Aunt Mary, when your Mistress returns tell her I've
received an urgent call and will not be at home for
supper."

"I'll be ready in a minute, Nelse," he said, as he
disappeared into the study. When he reached his desk,
he paused and looked about the room in a helpless way
as though trying to find some half-forgotten volume in
the rows of books that lined the walls and lay in piles
on his desk and tables. He knelt beside the desk and
prayed. When he rose there was a soft light in his
eyes that were half filled with tears.

Standing in the dim light of his study he was a

8 The Leopard's Spots

striking man. He had a powerful figure of medium
height, deep, piercing eyes, and a high intellectual
forehead. His hair was black and thick. He was a
man of culture, had graduated at the head of his class
at Wake Forest College before the war, and was a
profound student of men and books. He was now
thirty-five years old and the acknowledged leader of the
Baptist denomination in the state. He was eloquent,
witty, and proverbially good-natured. His voice in the
pulpit was soft and clear, and full of a magnetic quality
that gave him hypnotic power over an audience. He
had the prophetic temperament and was more of poet
than theologian.

The people of this village were proud of the man as
a citizen and loved him passionately as their preacher.
Great churches had called him, but he had never
accepted. There was in his make-up an element of the
missionary that gave his personality a peculiar force.

He had been the college mate of Colonel Charles
Gaston, whose faithful slave had come to him for help,
and they had always been bosom friends. He had
performed the marriage ceremony for the Colonel ten
years before, when he had led to the altar the beautiful
daughter of the richest planter in the adjoining county.
Durham's own heart was profoundly moved by his
friend's happiness, and he threw into the brief pre
liminary address so much of tenderness and earnest
passion that the trembling bride and groom forgot their
fright and were melted to tears. Thus began an
association of their family life that was closer than
their college days.

He closed his lips firmly for an instant, softly shut the
door and was soon on the way with Nelse. On reaching
the house, Nelse went directly to the kitchen, while the
Preacher, walking along the circular drive, approached

A Hero Returns 9

the front. His foot had scarcely touched the step when
Mrs. Gaston opened the door.

"Oh, Doctor Durham, I am so glad you have come !"
she exclaimed. "I've been depressed to-day, watching
the soldiers go by. All day long the poor footsore
fellows have been passing. I stopped some of them to
ask about Colonel Gaston and I thought one of them
knew something and would not tell me. I brought him
in and gave him dinner, and tried to coax him, but he
only looked wistfully at me, stammered, and said he
didn't know. But somehow I feel that he did. Come
in, Doctor, and say something to cheer me. If I only
had your faith in God."

11 1 have need of it all to-night, Madam ! " he answered
with a bowed head.

"Then you have heard bad news?"

"I have heard news — wonderful news of faith and
love, of heroism and knightly valour, that will be a
priceless heritage to you and yours. Nelse has
returned "

"God have mercy on me!" she gasped, covering her
face and raising her arm as though cowering from a
mortal blow.

"Here is Nelse, Madam. Hear his story. He has
only told me a word or two." Nelse had slipped quietly
in the back door.

"Yassum, Missy, I'se home at las'."

She looked at him strangely for a moment. "Nelse,
I've dreamed and dreamed of your coming, but always
with him. And now you come alone to tell me he is
dead. Lord have pity — there is nothing left !" There
was a far-away sound in her voice as though half
dreaming.

"Yas, Missy, dey is; I jes seed him — my young
Marster — dem bright eyes, de ve'y nose, de chin, de

io The Leopard's Spots

motif ! He walks des like Marse Charles, he talks like
him, he de ve'y spit er him, en how he hez growed ! He'll
be er man* fo' you knows it. En I'se got er letter fum
his Pa fur him, an' er letter fur you, Missy."

At this moment Charlie entered the room, slipped past
Nelse and climbed into his mother's arms. He was a
sturdy little fellow of eight years, with big brown eyes
and sensitive mouth.

"Yassir — Ole Grant wuz er pushin' us dar afo'
Richmon*. 'Pear ter me lak Marse Robert been er
fightin' him ev'y day for six monts. But he des keep
on pushin' en pushin' us. Marse Charles say ter me one
night after I been playin' de banjer fur de boys, ' Come
ter my tent, Nelse, 'fo' turnin' in — I wants ter see you.'
He talk so solemn like, I cut de banjer short en go right
erlong wid him. He been er writin' en done had two
letters writ. He say, * Nelse, we gwine ter git outen dese
trenches ter-morrer. It twell be my las' charge. I
feel it. Ef I falls, you take my swode en watch en dese
letters back home to your Mist 'ess and young Marster,
en you promise me, boy, to stan' by 'em in life ez I stan'
by you.' He know I lub him bettern any body in dis
worl', en dat I'd rudder be his slave dan be free if he's
daid. En I say, 'Dat I will, Marse Charles.'

*'De nex' day we up en charge ole Grant. 'Pears ter
me I nebber see so many dead Yankees on dis yearth ez
we see layin' on de groun' whar we brake froo dem
lines ! But dey des kep fetchin' up anudder army back
er de one we breaks, twell bimeby, dey swing er whole
millyon er Yankees right plum behin' us, en five millyon
er fresh uns come er swoopin' down in front. Den yer
otter see my Marster ! He des kinder riz in de air —
'pear ter me like he wuz er foot taller — en say to his men
— " 'Bout face, en charge de line in de rear !' Wall, sar,
we cut er hole clean froo dem Yankees en er minute, en

A Hero Returns n

den 'bout face ergin en begin ter walk backerds er
fightin' like wilecats ev'y inch. We git mos' back ter de
trenches, when Marse Charles drap des lak er flash ! I
runned up to him, en der wuz er big hole in his areas'
whar er bullet gone clean froo his heart. He nebber
groan. I tuk his head up in my arms en cry en take on
en call him ! I pull back his close en listen at his heart.
Hit wuz still. I takes de swode an de watch en de
letters outen de pockets en start on — when, bress God !
yer cum dat whole Yankee army ten hundred millyons,
en dey tromple all over us !

"Den I hear er Yankee say ter me, 'Now, my man,
you'se free.' 'Yassir,' sezzi, 'dats so,' en den I see a hole
ter run whar dey warn't no Yankees, en I run spang
into er millyon mo'. De Yankees wuz ev'ywhar. 'Pear
ter me lak dey riz outer de groun'. All dat day I try
ter get away fum 'em. En long 'bout night dey 'rested
me en fetch me up 'fo' er Genr'l, en he say,

" * What you tryin' ter get froo our lines fur, nigger?
Doan yer know yer free now, en if you go back you'd be
a slave ergin?'

"'Dats so, sah,' sezzi; 'but I'se 'bleeged ter go home.'

'"What for?' sezze.

"'Promise Marse Charles ter take dese letters en
swode en watch back home to my Missus en young
Marster, en dey waitin' fur me — I'se 'bleeged ter go.'

" ' Den he tuk de letters en read er minute, en his eyes
gin ter water en he choke up en say, ' Go-long ! '

"Den I skeedaddled ergin. Dey kep on ketchin' me
twell bimeby er nasty, stinkin', low-life, slue-footed
Yankee kotched me en say dat I wuz er dange'us nigger,
en sont me wid er lot er our prisoners way up ter ole
Jonson's Islan', whar I mos' froze ter deaf. I stay dar
twell one day er fine lady what say she from Boston
cum erlong en I up en tells her all erbout Marse Charles

12 The Leopard's Spots

and my Missus, en how dey all waitin' fur me, en how
bad I want ter go home, en de nex' news I knowed I
wuz on er train er whizzin' down home wid my way all
paid. I get wid our men at Greensboro en come right
on fas' ez my legs'd carry me."

There was silence for a moment, and then slowly Mrs.
Gaston said, "May God reward you, Nelse !"

"Yassum, Fse free, Missy, but I gwine ter wuk for
you en my young Marster."

Mrs. Gaston had lived daily in a sort of trance through
those four years of war, dreaming and planning for the
great day when her lover would return a handsome,
bronzed and famous man. She had never conceived of
the possibility of a world without his will and love to
lean upon. The Preacher was both puzzled and alarmed
by the strangely calm manner she now assumed. Before
leaving the home he cautioned Aunt Eve to watch her
Mistress closely and send for him if anything happened.

When the boy was asleep in the nursery adjoining her
room, she quietly closed the door, took the sword of
her dead lover-husband in her lap, and looked long
and tenderly at it. On the hilt she pressed her lips in
a lingering kiss.

"Here his dear hand must have rested last!" she
murmured. She sat motionless for an hour with eyes
fixed without seeing. At last she rose and hung the
sword beside his picture near her bed and drew from
her bosom the crumpled, worn letters Nelse had brought.
The first was addressed to her.

" In the Trenches near Richmond, May 4. 1864.

"Sweet Wifie: I have a presentiment to-night that
I shall not live to see you again. I feel the shadows of
defeat and ruin closing upon us. I am surer day by
day that our cause is lost, and surrender is a word I

A Hero Returns 13

have never learned to speak. If I could only see you
for one hour, that I might tell you all I have thought
in the lone watches of the night in camp, or marching
over desolate fields. Many tender things I have never
said to you I have learned in these days. I write this
last message to * ;11 you how, more and more beyond
the power of words to express, your love has grown upon
me, until your spirit seems the breath I breathe. My
heart is so full of love for you and my boy that I can't
go into battle now without thinking how many hearts
will ache and break in far-away homes because of the
work I am about to do. I am sick of it all. I long to
be at home again and walk with my sweet young bride
among the flowers she loves so well, and hear the old
mocking-bird that builds each spring in those rose-
bushes at our window.

" If I am killed, you must live for our boy and rear
him to a glorious manhood in the new nation that will
be born in this agony. I love you — I love you unto the
uttermost, and beyond death I will live, if only to love
you forever. Always in life or death your own,

"Charles."

For two hours she held this letter open in her hands
and seemed unable to move it. And then mechanically
she opened the one addressed to " Charles Gaston, Jr."

"My Darling Boy: I send by you Nelse my watch
and sword. It will be all I can bequeath to you from
the wreck that will follow the war. This sword was your
great-grandfather's. He held it as he charged up the
heights of King's Mountain against Ferguson and helped
to carve this nation out of a wilderness. It was a sor-
rowful day for me when I felt it my duty to draw that
sword against the old flag in defense of my home and

14 The Leopard's Spots

my people. You will live to see a reunited country.
Hang this sword back beside the old flag of our fathers
when the end has come, and always remember that it
was never drawn from its scabbard by your father, or
your grandfather, who fought with Jackson at New
Orleans, or your great-grandfather in the Revolution,
save in the cause of justice and right. I am not fighting to
hold slaves in bondage. I am fighting for the inalienable
rights of my people under the Constitution our fathers
created. It may be we have outgrown this Constitution.
But I calmly leave to God and history the question as
to who is right in its interpretation. Whatever you
do in life, first, last and always do what you believe
to be right. Everything else is of little importance.
With a heart full of love, Your father,

"Charles Gaston."

This letter she must have held open for hours, for it
was two o'clock in the morning when a wild peal of
laughter rang from her feverish lips and brought Aunt
Eve and Nelse hurrying into the room.

It took but a moment for them to discover that their
Mistress was suffering from a violent delirium. They
soothed her as best they could. The noise and confusion
had awakened the boy. Running to the door leading
into his mother's room, he found it bolted, and with his
little heart fluttering in terror he pressed his ear close
to the keyhole and heard her wild ravings. How
strange her voice seemed ! Her voice had always been
so soft and low and full of soothing music. Now it was
sharp and hoarse and seemed to rasp his flesh with
needles. What could it all mean? Perhaps the end
of the world, about which he had heard the Preacher
talk on Sundays. At last, unable to bear the terrible
suspense longer, he cried through the keyhole:

A Hero Returns 15

"Aunt Eve, what's the matter? Open the door,
quick."

"No, honey, you mustn't come in. Yo' Ma's awful
sick. You run out ter de barn, ketch de mare, en fly for
de doctor while me en Nelse stay wid her. Run, honey,
day's nuttin' ter hurt yer."

His little bare feet were soon pattering over the
long stretch of the back porch toward the barn. The
night was clear and the sky studded with stars. There
was no moon. He was a brave little fellow, but a fear
greater than all the terrors of ghosts and the white
sheeted dead with which Negro superstition had rilled
his imagination, now nerved his child's soul. His
mother was about to die. His very heart ceased to
beat at the thought. He must bring the doctor and
bring him quickly.

He flew to the stable, not looking to the right or the
left. The mare whinnied as he opened the door to get
the bridle.

"It's me, Bessie. Mamma's sick. We must go for
the doctor, quick!"

The mare thrust her head obediently down to the
child's short arm for the bridle. She seemed to know
by some instinct his quivering voice had roused that
the home was in distress and her hour had come to bear
a part.

In a moment he led her out through the gate, climbed
on the fence, and sprang on her back.

"Now, Bess, fly for me!" he half whispered, half
cried through the tears he could no longer keep back.
The mare bounded forward in a swift gallop as she felt
his trembling bare legs clasp her sides, and the clatter
of her hoofs echoed in the boy's ears through the silent
streets like the thunder of charging cavalry. How still
the night ! He saw shadows under the trees, shut his

1 6 The Leopard's Spots

eyes and leaning low on the mare's neck patted her
shoulders with his hands and cried,

"Faster, Bessie, faster ! " And then he tried to pray.
"Lord, don't let her die! Please, dear God, and I will
always be good. I am sorry I robbed the birds' nests
last summer — I'll never do it again. Please, Lord, I'm
such a wee boy and I'm so lonely. I can't lose my
Mamma!" — and the voice choked and became a great
sob. He looked across the square as he passed the
court-house in a gallop and saw a light in the window
of the parsonage and felt its rays warm his soul like an
answer to his prayer.

He reached the Doctor's house on the farther side
of the town, sprang from the mare's back, bounded up
the steps and knocked at the door. No one answered.
He knocked again. How loud it rang through the hall !
Maybe the Doctor was gone. He had not thought of
such a possibility before. He choked at the thought.
Springing quickly from the steps to the ground he felt
for a stone, bounded back and began to pound on the
door with all his might.

The window was raised, and the old Doctor thrust his
head out, calling,

" What on earth's the matter ? Who is that ? "

"It's me, Charlie Gaston — my Mamma's sick — she's
awful sick, I'm afraid she's dying — you must come
quick!"

"All right, sonny; I'll be ready in a minute."

The boy waited and waited. It seemed to him hours,
days, weeks, years ! To every impatient call the Doctor
would answer:

"In a minute, sonny, in a minute."

At last he emerged with his lantern, to catch his
horse. The Doctor seemed so slow. He fumbled over
the harness.

A Hero Returns 17

" Oh, Doctor, you're so slow ! I tell you my Mamma's
sick !"

"Well, well, my boy, we'll soon be there," the old
man kindly replied.

When the boy saw the Doctor's horse jogging quickly
toward his home he turned the mare's head aside as he
reached the court-house square, roused the Preacher,
and between his sobs told the story of his mother's
illness. Mrs. Durham had lost her only boy two years
before. Soon Charlie was sobbing in her arms.

"You poor little darling, out by yourself so late at
night; were you not scared?" she asked as she kissed
the tears from his eyes.

M Yessum, I was scared, but I had to go for the doctor.
I want you and Doctor Durham to come as quick as you
can. I'm afraid to go home. I'm afraid she's dead, or
I'll hear her laugh that awful way I heard to-night."

"Of course we will come, dear, right away. We will
be there almost as soon as you can get to the house."

He rode slowly along the silent street, looking back
now and then for the Preacher and his wife. As he
was passing a small deserted house he saw, to his horror,
a ragged man peering into the open window. Before
he had time to run, the man stepped quickly up to the
mare and said,

"Who lived here last, little man?"

"Old Miss Spurlin," answered the boy.

"Where is she now?"

"She's dead."

The man sighed, and the boy saw by his gray uniform
that he was a soldier just back from the war, and he
quickly added:

"Folks said they had a hard time, but Preacher
Durham helped them lots when they had nothing to
eat."

1 8 The Leopard's Spots

"So my poor old mother's dead. I was afraid of it."
He seemed to be talking to himself. "And do you
know where her gal is that lived with her ? "

"She's in a little house down in the woods below
town. They say she's a bad woman, and my Mamma
would never let me go near her."

The man flinched as though struck with a knife,
steadied himself for a moment with his hands on the
mare's neck and said:

"You're a brave little one to be out alone this time
o' night — what's your name?"

"Charles Gaston."

"Then you're my Colonel's boy; many a time I
followed him where men were fallin' like leaves — I wish
to God I was with him now in the ground ! Don't tell
anybody you saw me — them that knowed me will
think I'm dead, and it's better so."

"Good-by, sir," said the child. "I'm sorry for*you if
you've got no home. I'm after the doctor for my
Mamma — she's very sick. I'm afraid she's going to die,
and if you ever pray I wish you'd pray for her."

The soldier came closer. "I wish I knew how to
pray, my boy. But it seemed to me I forgot everything
that was good in the war, and there's nothin' left but
death and hell. But I'll not forget you; good-by!"

When Charlie was in bed, he lay an hour with wide-
staring eyes, holding his breath now and then to catch
the faintest sound from his mother's room. All was
quiet at last and he fell asleep. But he was no longer
a child. The shadow of a great sorrow had enveloped
his soul and clothed him with the dignity and fellowship
of the mystery of pain.

CHAPTER II
A LIGHT SHINING IN DARKNESS

IN the rear of Mrs. Gaston's place there stood in the
midst of an orchard a log house of two rooms,
with a hallway between them. There was a mud-
thatched wooden chimney at each end, and from the
back of the hallway a kitchen extension of the same
material with another mud chimney. The house stood
in the middle of a ten-acre lot, and a woman was busy
in the garden with a little girl, planting seed.

"Hurry up, Annie, le's finish this in time to fix up a
fine dinner er greens, an' turnips, an' 'taters an' a
chicken. Yer Pappy '11 get home to-day, sure. Colonel
Gaston's Nelse come last night. Yer Pappy was in the
Colonel's regiment, an' Nelse said he passed him on the
road comin' with two one-legged soldiers. He ain't
got but one leg, he says. But, Lord, if there's a piece
of him left we'll praise God an' be thankful for what
we've got."

"Maw, how did he look? I mos' forgot — 's been so
long sence I seed him?" asked the child.

"Look! Honey, he was the handsomest man in
Campbell County ! He had a tall, fine figure, brown,
curly beard, and the sweetest mouth that was always
smilin' at me, an' his eyes twinklin' over somethin'
funny he'd seed or thought about. When he was
young ev'ry gal around here was crazy about him. I
got him all right, an' he got me, too. Oh, me ! I can't
help but cry, to think he's been gone so long. But he's
comin' to-day ! I jes' feel it in my bones."

10

20 The Leopard's Spots

"Look a-yonder, Maw, what a skeercrow ridin' er ole
hoss," cried the girl, looking suddenly toward the road.

"Glory to God! It's Tom!" she shouted, snatching
her old faded sun-bonnet off her head and fairly flying
across the field to the gate, her cheeks aflame, her blond
hair tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes wet with tears.

Tom was entering the gate of his modest home in as
fine style as possible, seated proudly on a stack of bones
that had once been a horse, an old piece of wool on his
head that once had been a hat and a wooden peg fitted
into a stump where once was a leg. His face was pale
and stained with the red dust of the hill roads, and his
beard, now iron gray, and his ragged, buttonless uniform
were covered with dirt. He was truly a sight to scare
crows, if not of interest to buzzards. But to the woman
whose swift feet were hurrying to his side, and whose
lips were muttering half-articulate cries of love, he was
the knightliest figure that ever rode in the lists before
the assembled beauty of the world.

"Oh, Tom, Tom, Tom, my ole man! You've come
at last !" she sobbed, as she threw her arms around his
neck, drew him from the horse and fairly smothered
him with kisses.

"Look out, ole woman, you'll break my new leg!"
cried Tom, when he could get breath.

"I don't care — I'll get you another one," she laughed
through her tears.

"Look out there again, you're smashing my game
shoulder. Got er Minie ball in that one."

"Well, your mouth's all right, I see," cried the
delighted woman, as she kissed and kissed him.

"Say, Annie, don't be so greedy; give me a chance at
my young one." Tom's eyes were devouring the
excited girl who had drawn nearer.

"Come and kiss your Pappy and tell him how glad

A Light Shining in Darkness 2\

you are to see him!" said Tom, gathering her in his.
arms and attempting to carry her to the house.

He stumbled and fell. In a moment the strong arms
of his wife were about him and she was helping him
into the house.

She laid him tenderly on the bed, petted him and
cried over him. "My poor old man, he's all shot and
cut to pieces. You're so weak, Tom — I can't believe it.
You were so strong. But we'll take care of you. Don't
you worry. You just sleep a week and then rest all
summer and watch us work the garden for you!"

He lay still for a few moments with a smile playing
around his lips.

"Lord, ole woman, you don't know how nice it is to
be petted like that, to hear a woman's voice, feel her
breath on your face and the touch of her hand warm
and soft, after four years' sleeping on dirt and living with
men and mules, and fightin' and runnin' and diggin*
trenches like rats and moles, killin' men, buryin' the
dead like carrion, holdin' men while doctors sawed their
legs off, till your turn came to be held and sawed. You
can't believe it, but this is the first feather bed I've
touched in four years. "

"Well, well — bless God it's over now!" she cried.
"S'long as I've got two strong arms to slave for you —
as long as there's a piece of you left big enough to hold
on to — I'll work for you," and again she bent low over
his pale face, and crooned over him as she had so often
done over his baby in those four lonely years of war and
poverty.

Suddenly Tom pushed her aside and sprang up in bed.

"Geemimy, Annie, I forgot my pardners — there's two
more peg-legs out at the gate by this time waiting for
us to get through huggin' and carryin' on before they
come in. Run, fetch 'em in quick!"

22 The Leopard's Spots

Tom struggled to his feet and met them at the door.

"Come right into my palace, boys. I've seen some
fine places in my time, but this is the handsomest one I
ever set ey^o <">n. Now, Annie, put the big pot in the
little one and aon't stand back for expenses. Let's have
a dinner these fellers '11 never forget."

It was a teast they never forgot. Tom's wife had
raised a brood of early chickens, and managed to keep
them from being stolen. She killed four of them and
cooked them as only a Southern woman knows how.
She had sweet potatoes carefully saved in the mound
against the kitchen chimney. There were turnips and
greens and radishes, young onions and lettuce and hot-
corn dodgers fit for a king ; and in the center of the table
she deftly fixed a pot of wild flowers little Annie had
gathered. She did not tell them that it was the last peck
of potatoes and the last pound of meal. That belonged
to the morrow. To-day they would live.

They laughed and joked over this splendid banquet,
and told stories of days and nights of hunger and
exhaustion, when they had filled their empty stomachs
with dreams of home.

"Miss Camp, you've got the best husband in seven
states, did you know that?" asked one of the soldiers,
a mere boy.

" Of course she'll agree to that, sonny, " laughed Tom.

"Well, it's so. If it hadn't been for him, Ma'am, we'd
'a' been peggin' along somewhere way up in Virginny
'stead c' bein' so close to home. You see, he let us ride
his hoss a mile and then he'd ride a mile. We took it
turn about, and here we are. "

"Tom, how in this world did you get that horse?"
asked his wife.

"Honey, I got him on my good looks," said he with
a wink. "You see, I was 'a' settin' out there in the sun

A Light Shining in Darkness 23

the day o' the surrender. I was sorter cryin' and
wonderin' how I'd get home with that stump of wood
instead of a foot, when along come a chunky, heavy-set
Yankee general, looking as glum as though his folks
had surrendered instead of Marse Robert. He saw me,
stopped, looked at me a minute right hard ^nd says,
' Where do you live ? '

"'Way down in ole No'th Caliny, ' I says, 'at
Hambright, not far from King's Mountain. '

*** How are you going to get home? ' says he.

" ' God knows, I don't, General. I got a wife and baby
down there I ain't seed fer nigh four years, and I want
to see 'em so bad I can taste 'em. I was lookin' the
other way when I said that, fer I was purty well played
out, and feelin' weak and watery about the eyes, an' I
didn't want no Yankee general to see water in my eyes. '

"He called a feller to him and sorter snapped out to
him, 'Go bring the best horse you can spare for this
man and give it to him. '

"Then he turns to me and seed I was all choked up
and couldn't say nothin' and says:

"'I'm General Grant. Give my love to your folks
when you get home. I've known what it was to be a
poor white man down South myself once for awhile. '

"'God bless you, General. I thanks you from the
bottom of my heart, ' I says as quick as I could find my
tongue; 'if it had to be surrender I'm glad it was to
such a man as you. '

"He never said another word, but just walked slow
along smoking a big cigar. So, ole woman, you know
the reason I named that hoss ' General Grant. ' It may
be I've seen finer hosses than that one, but I couldn't
recollect anything about 'em on the road home. "

Dinner over, Tom's comrades rose and looked wist-
fully down the dusty road leading southward

24 The Leopard's Spots

4 ' Well, Tom, ole man, we gotter be er movin', " said the
older of the two soldiers. "We're powerful obleeged
to you fur helpin' us along this fur. "

"All right, boys; you'll find yer train standin' on the
side o' the track eatin' grass. Jes climb up, pull the
lever and let her go."

The men's faces brightened, their lips twitched. They
looked at Tom and then at the old horse. They looked
down the long dusty road stretching over hill and
valley, hundreds of miles south, and then at Tom's wife
and child, whispered to one another a moment, and the
elder said:

"No, pardner; you've been awful good to us, but
we'll get along somehow — we can't take yer hoss. It's
all yer got now ter make a livin' on yer place. "

"All I got!" shouted Tom. "Man alive, ain't you
seed my ole woman, as fat and jolly and han'some as
when I married her 'leven years ago? Didn't you hear
her cryin' an' shoutin' like she's crazy when I got home ?
Didn't you see my little gal with eyes jes like her
daddy's ? Don't you see my cabin standin' as purty as a
ripe peach in the middle of the orchard, when hundreds
of fine houses are lyin' in ashes? Ain't I got ten acres
of land? Ain't I got God Almighty above me and all
around me, the same God that watched over me on the
battle-fields ? All I got ? That old stack o' bones that
looks like er hoss? Well, I reckon not !"

"Pardner, it ain't right," grumbled the soldier, with
more of cheerful thanks than protest in his voice.

"Oh, get off, you fools!" said Tom, good-naturedly.
"Ain't it my hoss ? Can't I do what I please with it ? "

So with hearty hand-shakes they parted, the two
astride the old horse's back. One had lost his right
leg, the other his left, and this gave them a good leg
on each side to hold the cargo straight.

A Light Shining in Darkness 25

"Take keer yerself, Tom!" they both cried in the
same breath as they moved away.

"Take keer yerselves, boys; I'm all right I" answered
Tom, as he stumped his way back to the home. "It's
all right, it's all right," he muttered to himself. "He'd
'a' come in handy, but I'd 'a' never slept thinkin' o'
them peggin' along them rough roads."

Before reaching the house he sat down on a wooden
bench beneath a tree to rest. It was the first week in
May and the leaves were not yet grown. The sun was
pouring his hot rays down into the moist earth and the
heat began to feel like summer. As he drank in the
beauty and glory of the spring his soul was melted with
joy. The fruit trees were laden with the promise of the
treasures of the summer and autumn, a catbird was
singing softly to his mate in the tree over his head, and
a mocking-bird seated in the topmost branch of an elm
near his cabin home was leading the oratorio of feathered
songsters. The wild plum and blackberry briers were
in full bloom in the fence corners, and the sweet odour
filled the air. He heard his wife singing in the
house.

"It's a fine old world after all!" he exclaimed,
leaning back and half closing his eyes, while a sense of
ineffable peace filled his soul. "Peace at last ! Thank
God ! May I never see a gun or a sword or hear a drum
or a fife's scream on this earth again ! "

A hound came close, wagging his tail and whining for
a word of love and recognition.

"Well, Bob, old boy, you're the only one left. You'll
have to chase cottontails by yourself now."

Bob's eyes watered and he licked his master's hand,
apparently understanding every word he said.

Breaking from his master's hands, the dog ran toward
the gate barking, and Tom rose in haste as he recognised

26 The Leopard's Spots

the sturdy tread of the Preacher, Reverend John
Durham, walking rapidly toward the house.

Grasping him heartily by the hand the Preacher said :

"Tom, you don't know how it warms my soul to look
into your face again. When you left I felt like a man
who had lost one hand. I've found it to-day. You're
the same stalwart Christian full of joy and love. Some
men's religion didn't stand the wear and tear of war.
You've come out with your soul like gold tried in the
fire. Colonel Gaston wrote me }'ou were the finest
soldier in the regiment, and that you were the only
Chaplain he had seen that he could consult for his own
soul's cheer. That's the kind of a deacon to send to
the front. I'm proud of you, and you're still at your
old tricks. I met two one-legged soldiers down the
road riding your horse away as though you had a
stableful at your command. You needn't apologise or
explain: they told me all about it."

"Preacher, it's good to have the Lord's messenger
speak words like them. I can't tell you how glad I am
to be home again and shake your hand. I tell you it
was a comfort to me when I lay awake at night on them
battle-fields, a-wonderin' what had become of my ole
woman and the baby, to recollect that you were here,
and how often I'd heard you tell us how the Lord
tempered the wind to the shorn lamb. Annie's been
telling me who watched out for her them dark days
when there was nothin' to eat. I reckon you and your
wife knows the way to this house about as well as you
do to the church."

Tom had pulled the Preacher down on the seat beside
him while he said this.

"The dark days have only begun, Tom. I've come
to see you to have you cheer me up. Somehow you
always seemed to me to be closer to God than any man

A Light Shining in Darkness 27

in the church. You will need all your faith now. It
seems to me that every second woman I know is a
widow. Hundreds of families have no seed even to
plant, no horses to work crops, no men who will work
if they had horses. What are we to do ? I see hungry
children in every house."

"Preacher, the Lord is looking down here to-day and
sees all this as plain as you and me. As long as He is
in the sky everything will come all right on the earth."

"How's your pantry?" asked the Preacher.

"Don't know. 'Man shall not live by bread alone,'
you know. When I hear these birds in the trees an'
see this old dog waggin' his tail at me, and smell the
breath of them flowers, and it all comes over me that I'm
done killin' men, and I'm at home, with a bed to sleep
on, a roof over my head, a woman to pet me and tell
me I'm great and handsome, I don't feel like I'll ever
need anything more to eat. I believe I could live a
whole month here without eatin' a bite."

"Good. You come to the prayer meeting to-night
and say a few things like that, and the folks will believe
they have been eating three square meals every day."

"I'll be there. I ain't asked Annie what she's got,
but I know she's got greens and turnips, onions and
collards, and strawberries in the garden. Irish 'taters '11
be big enough to eat in three weeks, and sweets comin'
right c 1. We've got a few chickens. The blackberries
and pi ms and peaches and apples are all on the road.
Ah, Preacher, it's my soul that's been starved away
from n 7 wife and child ! ' '

"You don't know how much I need help sometimes,
Tom. I am always giving, giving myself in sympathy
and help to others; I'm famished now and then. I
feel faint and worn out. You seem to fill me again
with life."

28 The Leopard's Spots

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Preacher. I get
downhearted sometimes, when I recollect I'm nothin'
but a poor white man. I'll remember your words.
I'm going to do my part in the church work. You
know where to find me."

"Well, that's partly what brought me here this
morning. I want you to help me look after Mrs. Gaston
and her little boy. She is prostrated over the death of
the Colonel and is hanging between life and death. She
is in a delirious condition all the time and must be
watched day and night. I want you to watch the first
half of the night with Nelse, and Eve and Mary will
watch the last half."

"Of course, I'll do anything in the world I can for
my Colonel's widder. He was the bravest man that
ever led a regiment, and he was a father to us boys. I'll
be there. But I won't set up with that nigger. He
can go to bed."

"Tom, it's a funny thing to me that as good a Christian
as you are should hate a nigger so. He's a human being.
It's not right."

" He may be human, Preacher; I don't know. To tell
you the truth, I have my doubts. Anyhow, I can't help
it. God knows I hate the sight of 'em like I do a rattle-
snake. That nigger Nelse, they say, is a good one. He
was faithful to the Colonel, I know, but I couldn't bear
him no more than any of the rest of 'em. I always
hated a nigger since I was knee-high. My dad ly and
my mammy hated 'em before me. Somehow, we always
felt like they was crowdin' us to death on them big
plantations, and the little ones, too. And then I had
to leave my wife and baby and fight four years, all on
account of their stinkin' hides, that never done nothin'
for me except make it harder to live. Every time I'd
go into battle and hear them Minie balls begin to sing

A Light Shining in Darkness 29

over us, it seemed to me I could see their black ape-faces
grinnin' and makin' fun of poor whites. At night when
they'd detail me to help the ambulance corps carry off
the dead and wounded, there was a strange smell on
the field that came from the blood and night damp and
burnt powder. It always smelled like a nigger to me.
It made me sick. Yes, Preacher, God forgive me, I
hate 'em ! I can't help it any more than I can the
colour of my skin or my hair."

"I'll fix it with Nelse, then. You take the first part
of the night till twelve o'clock. I'll go down with you
from the church to-night," said the Preacher, as he
shook Tom's hand and took his leave.

CHAPTER III
DEEPENING SHADOWS

ON the second day after Mrs. Gaston was stricken
a forlorn little boy sat in the kitchen watching
Aunt Eve get supper. He saw her nod while
she worked the dough for the biscuits.

"Aunt Eve, I'm going to sit up to-night and every
night with my Mamma, till she gets well. I can't sleep
for hours and hours. I lie awake and cry when I hear
her talking till I feel like I'll die. I must do something
to help her."

"Laws, honey, you'se too little. You can't keep
'wake 'tall. You get so lonesome and skeered all by
yerself."

"I don't care. I've told Tom to wake me to-night
if I'm asleep when he goes, and I'll sit up from twelve
till two o'clock and then call you."

"All right, Mammy's darlin' boy, but you git tired en
can't stan' it."

So that night at midnight he took his place by the
bedside. His mother was sleeping, at first. He sat
and gazed with aching heart at her still, white face.
She stirred, opened her eyes, saw him, and imagined he
was his father.

"Dearie, I knew you would come," she murmured.
" They told me you were dead ; but I knew better. What
a long, long time you have been away. How brown the
sun has tanned your face, but it's just as handsome. I
think handsomer than ever. And how like you is little
Charlie ! I knew you would be proud of him ! "

30

Deepening Shadows 31

While she talked, her eyes had a glassy look, that
seemed to take no note of anything in the room.

The child listened for ten minutes, and then the horror
of her strange voice and look and words overwhelmed
him. He burst into tears and threw his arms around his
mother's neck and sobbed.

"Oh! Mamma, dear, it's me, Charlie, your little boy,
who loves you so much. Please, don't talk that way.
Please look at me like you used to. There ! Let me
kiss your eyes till they are soft and sweet again ! "

He covered her eyes with kisses.

The mother seemed dazed for a moment, held him off
at arms' length, and then burst into laughter.

"Of course, you silly, I know you. You must run to
bed now. Kiss me good-night."

"But you are si~k, Mamma; I am sitting up with
you."

Again she ignored his presence. She was back in the
old days with her love. She was kissing her hand to
him as he left her for his day's work. Charlie looked
at the clock. It was time to give her the soothing
drops the doctor left. She took it, obedient as a child,
and went on and on with interminable dreams of the
past, now and then uttering strange things for a boy's
ears. But so terrible was the anguish with which he
watched her, the words made little impression on his
mind. It seemed to him some one was strangling him
to death, and a great stone was piled on his little
prostrate body.

When she grew quiet, at last, and dozed, how still the
house seemed ! How loud the tick of the clock ! How
slowly the hands moved ! He had never noticed this
before. He watched the hands for five minutes. It
seemed each minute was an hour, and five minutes were
as long as a day. What strange noises in the house !

32 The Leopard's Spots

Suppose a ghost should walk into the room ! Well, he
wouldn't run and leave his Mamma; he made up his
mind to that.

Some nights there were other sounds more ominous.
The town was crowded with strange negroes, who were
hanging around the camp of the garrison. One night a
drunken gang came shouting and screaming up the alley
close beside the house, firing pistols and muskets.
They stopped at the house, and one of them yelled,

"Burn the rebel's house down. It's our turn now!"

The terrified boy rushed to the kitchen and called
Nelse. In a minute Nelse was on the scene. There
was no more trouble that night.

"De lazy black debbels," said Nelse, as he mopped
the perspiration from his brow, "I'll teach 'em what
freedom is."

The next day when the Reverend John Durham had
an interview with the Commandant of the troops, he
succeeded in getting a consignment of corn for seed, and
to meet the threat of starvation among some families
whose condition he reported. This important matter
settled, he said to the officer:

"Captain, we must look to you for protection. The
town is swarming with vagrant negroes, bent on mis-
chief. There are camp followers with you organising
them into some sort of Union League meetings, dealing
out arms and ammunition to them, and, what is worse,
inflaming the worst passions against their former
masters, teaching them insolence and training them
for crime."

"I'll do the best I can for you, Doctor, but I can't
control the camp followers who are organising the
Union League. They live a charmed life."

That night, as the Preacher walked home from a visit
to a destitute family, he encountered a burly negro on

Deepening Shadows 33

the sidewalk, dressed in an old suit of Federal uniform,
evidently under the influence of whisky. He wore
a belt around his waist, in which he had thrust con-
spicuously an old horse pistol.

Standing squarely across the pathway, he said to
the Preacher,

"Git outer de road, white man; you'se er rebel, I'se
er Loyal Union Leaguer ! ' '

It was his first experience with Negro insolence since
the emancipation of his slaves. Quick as a flash, his
right arm was raised. But he took a second thought,
stepped aside, and allowed the drunken fool to pass.
He went home wondering in a hazy sort of way through
his excited passions what the end of it all would be.
Gradually in his mind for days this towering figure of
the freed Negro had been growing more and more
ominous, until its menace overshadowed the poverty,
the hunger, the sorrow and the devastation of the South,
throwing the blight of its shadow over future generations,
a veritable Black Death for the land and its people.

CHAPTER IV
MR. LINCOLN'S DREAM

EVERY morning before the Preacher could finish
his breakfast, callers were knocking at the door
— the negro, the poor white, the widow, the
orphan, the wounded, the hungry: an endless procession.

The spirit of the returned soldiers was all that he
could ask. There was nowhere a slumbering spark of
war. There was not the slightest effort to continue the
lawless habits of four years of strife. Everywhere the
spirit of patience, self-restraint and hope marked the
life of the men who had made the most terrible soldiery.
They were glad to be done with war and have the
opportunity to rebuild their broken fortunes. They
were glad, too, that the everlasting question of a divided
Union was settled and settled forever. There was now
to be one country and one flag, and deep down in their
souls they were content with it.

The spectacle of this terrible army of the Confederacy,
the memory of whose battle-cry yet thrills the world,
transformed in a month into patient and hopeful
workmen, has never been paralleled in history.

Who destroyed this scene of peaceful rehabilitation ?
Hell has no pit dark enough, and no damnation deep
enough, for these conspirators when once history has
fixed their guilt.

The task before the people of the South was one to
tax the genius of the Anglo-Saxon race as never in its
history, even had every friendly aid possible been
extended by the victorious North. Four million

34

Mr. Lincoln's Dream 3$

negroes had suddenly been freed, and the foundations of
economic order destroyed. Five billions of dollars' worth
of property were wiped out of existence, banks closed,
every dollar of money worthless paper, the country
plundered by victorious armies, its cities, mills and
homes burned, and the flower of its manhood buried in
nameless trenches, or worse still, flung upon the charity
of poverty, maimed wrecks. The task of organising this
wrecked society and marshalling into efficient citizenship
this host of ignorant negroes, and yet to preserve the
civilisation of the Anglo-Saxon race, the priceless
heritage 0. two thousand years of struggle, was one to
appal the wisdom of ages. Honestly and earnestly the
white people of the South set about this work, and
accepted the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution
abolishing slavery without a protesting vote.

The President issued his proclamation announcing
the method of restoring the Union as it had been handed
to him from the martyred Lincoln, and indorsed
unanimously by Lincoln's Cabinet. This plan was
simple, broad and statesmanlike, and its spirit breathed
Fraternity and Union with malice toward none and
charity toward all. It declared what Lincoln had
always taught, that the Union was indestructible, that
the rebellious states had now only to repudiate Secession,
abolish slavery, and resume their positions in the
Union, to preserve which so many lives had been
sacrificed.

The people of North Carolina accepted this plan in
good faith. They elected a Legislature composed of
the noblest men of the state, and chose an old Union
man, Andrew Macon, Governor. Against Macon was
pitted the man who was now the president and organiser
of a federation of secret oath-bound societies, of which
the Union League, destined to play s<? tragic a part in

36 The Leopard's Spots

the drama about to follow, was the type. This man,
Amos Hogg, was a writer of brilliant and forceful style.
Before the war, a virulent Secessionist leader, he had
justified and upheld slavery, and had written a volume
of poems dedicated to John C. Calhoun. He had led
the movement for Secession in the Convention which
passed the ordinance. But when he saw his ship was
sinking, he turned his back upon the "errors" of the
past, professed the most loyal Union sentiments, wormed
himself into the confidence of the Federal Government,
and actually succeeded in securing the position of
Provisional Governor of the state ! He loudly professed
his loyalty, and with fury and malice demanded that
Vance, the great war Governor, his predecessor, who,
as a Union man had opposed Secession, should now be
hanged, and with him his own former associates in the
Secession Convention, whom he had misled with his
brilliant pen.

But the people had a long memory. They saw
through this hollow pretense, grieved for their great
leader, who was now locked in a prison cell in
Washington and voted for Andrew Macon.

In the bitterness of defeat, Amos Hogg sharpened
his wits and his pen and began his schemes of revengeful
ambition.

The fires of passion burned now in the hearts of hosts
of cowards, North and South, who had not met their
foe in battle. Their day had come. The times were
ripe for the Apostles of Revenge and their breed of
statesmen.

The Preacher threw the full weight of his character
and influence to defeat Hogg, and he succeeded in
carrying the county for Macon by an overwhelming
majority. At the election only the men who had voted
under the old regime were allowed to vote. The

Mr. Lincoln's Dream 37

Preacher had not appeared on the hustings as a speaker,
but as an organiser and leader of opinion he was easily
the most powerful man in the county, and one of the
most powerful in the state.

CHAPTER V
THE OLD AND THE NEW CHURCH

IN the village of Hambright the church was the
center of gravity of the life of the people.
There were but two churches, the Baptist
and the Methodist. The Episcopalians had a build-
ing, but it was built by the generosity of one of
their dead members. There were four Presbyterian
families in town, and they were working desperately
to build a church. The Baptists had really taken the
county, and the Methodists were their only rivals.
The Baptists had fifteen nourishing churches in the
county, the Methodists six. There were no others.

The meetings at the Baptist church in the village of
Hambright were the most important gatherings in the
county. On Sunday mornings everybody who could
walk, young and old, saint and sinner, went to church,
and by far the larger number to the Baptist church.

You could tell by the stroke of the bell that the
two were rivals. The sextons acquired a peculiar skill
in ringing these bells with a snap and a jerk that smashed
the clapper against the side in a stroke that spoke
defiance to all rival bells, warning of everlasting fire to
all sinners that should stay away, and due notice to
the saints that even an apostle might become a cast-
away unless he made haste.

The men occupied one side of the house, the women
the other. Only very small boys accompanying their
mothers were to be seen on the woman's side, together

38

The Old and the New Church 39

with a few young men who fearlessly escorted thither
their sweethearts.

Before the services began, between the ringing of the
first and second bells, the men gathered in groups in
the churchyard and discussed grave questions of
politics and weather. The services over, the men
lingered in the yard to shake hands with neighbours,
praise or criticise the sermon, and once more discuss
great events. The boys gathered in quiet, wistful
groups and watched the girls come slowly out of the
other door, and now and then a daring youngster
summoned courage to ask to see one of them home.

The services were of the simplest kind. The singing
of the old hymns of Zion, the reading of the Bible, the
prayer, the collection, the sermon, the Benediction.

The Preacher never touched on politics, no matter
what the event under whose world import his people
gathered. War was declared, and fought for four
terrible years. Lee surrendered, the slaves were freed,
and society was torn from the foundations of centuries,
but you would never have known it from the lips of the
Reverend John Durham in his pulpit. These things
were but passing events. When he ascended the pulpit
he was the Messenger of Eternity. He spoke of God,
of truth, of righteousness, of judgment, the same
yesterday, to-day and forever.

Only in his prayers did he come closer to the inner
thoughts and perplexities of the daily life of the people.
He was a man of remarkable power in the pulpit. His
mastery of the Bible was profound. He could speak
pages of direct discourse in its very language. To him
it was a divine alphabet, from whose letters he could
compose the most impassioned message to the individual
hearer before him. Its literature, its poetic fire, the epic
sweep of the Old Testament record of life, were inwrought

40 The Leopard's Spots

into the very fiber of his soul. As a preacher he spoke
with authority. He was narrow and dogmatic in his
interpretation of the Bible, but his very narrowness and
dogmatism were of his flesh and blood, elements of his
power. He never stooped to controversy. He simply
announced the truth. The wise received it. The
fools rejected it and were damned. That was all there
was to it.

But it was in his public prayers that he was at his
best. Here all the wealth of tenderness of a great soul
was laid bare. In these prayers he had the subtle
genius that could find the way direct into tne hearts of
the people before him, realise as his own their sins and
sorrows, their burdens and hopes and dreams and fears,
and then, when he had made them his own, he could
give them the wings of deathless words and carry them
up to the heart of God. He prayed in a low, soft tone
of voice; it was like an honest, earnest child pleading
with his father. What a hush fell on the people when
these prayers began ! With what breathless suspense
every earnest soul followed him !

Before and during the >var the gallery of this church,
which was built and reserved for the Negroes, was
always crowded with dusky listeners that hung spell-
bound on his words. Now there were only a few, perhaps
a dozen, and they were growing fewer. Some new and
mysterious power was at work among the Negroes,
sowing the seeds of distrust and suspicion. He wondered
what it could be. He had always loved to preach to
these simple-hearted children of nature, and watch the
flash of resistless emotion sweep their dark faces. He
had baptised more than five hundred of them into the
fellowship of the churches in the village and the county
during the ten years of his ministry.

He determined to find out the cause of this desertion

The Old and the New Church 41

of his church by the Negroes to whom he had ministered
so many years.

At the close of a Sunday morning's service, Nelse
was slowly descending the gallery stairs, leading Charlie
Gaston by the hand, after the church had been nearly
emptied of the white people. The Preacher stopped
him near the door.

"How's your Mistress, Nelse?"

"She's gettin' better all de time now, praise de Lawd.
Eve she stay wid 'er dis mornin', while I fetch dis boy
ter chu'ch. He des so sot on goin'."

"Where are all the other folks who used to fill that
gallery, Nelse?"

"You doan' tell me you ain't heard about dem?" he
answered with a grin.

"Well, I haven't heard, and I want to hear."

"De laws-a-massy, dey done got er church er dey
own ! Dey has meetin' now in de schoolhouse dat
Yankee 'oman built. De teachers tell 'em ef dey ain't
good ernuf ter set wid de white folks in dere chu'ch,
dey got ter hole up dey haids, and not 'low nobody ter
push 'em up in er nigger gallery. So dey's got ole Uncle
Josh Miller to preach fur 'em. He 'low he got er call,
en he stan' up dar en holler fur 'em bout er hour ev'ry
Sunday mawnin' en .night. En sech whoopin', en
yellin', en bawlin' ! Yer can hear 'em er mile. Dey
tries ter git me ter go. I tell 'em Marse John Durham's
preachin's good ernuf fur me, gall'ry er no gall'ry. I
tell 'em dat I spec er gall'ry nigher heaven den de lower
flo' enyhow — en fuddermo', dat when I goes ter chu'ch
I wants ter hear sumfin' mo' dan er ole fool nigger er
bawlin'. I can holler myself. En dey 'low I gwine
back on my colour. En den I tell 'em I spec I ain't so
proud dat I can't lam fum white folks. En dey say
dey gwine ter lay fur me yit."

42 The Leopard's Spots

"I'm sorry to hear this," said the Preacher thought-
fully.

" Yassir, hit's des lak I tell yer. I spec dey gone fur
good. Niggers aint got no sense nohow. I des wish
I own 'em erbout er week ! Dey gitten madder'n
madder et me all de time 'case I stay at de ole place en
wuk fer my po' sick Mistus. Dey sen' er kermittee
ter see me mos' ev'ry day ter 'splain ter me Fse free.
De las' time dey come I lam one on de haid wid er stick
er wood erfo' dey leave me lone."

"You must be careful, Nelse."

" Yassir, I nebber hurt 'im. Des sorter crack his skull
er little ter show 'im what I gwine do wid 'im nex* time
dey come pesterin' me."

"Have they been back to see you since?"

"Dat dey ain't. But dey sont me word dey gwine
git de Freeman's Buro atter me. En I sont 'em back
word ter sen' Mr. Buro right on en I land 'im in de
middle er a spell er sickness, des es sho' es de Lawd
gimme strenk."

"You can't resist the Freedman's Bureau, Nelse."

"What dat Buro got ter do wid me, Marse John?"

"They've got everything to do with you, my boy.
They have absolute power over all questions between
the Negro and the white man. They can prohibit you
from working for a white person without their consent,
and they can fix your wages and make your contracts."

"Well, dey better lemme erlone, or dere'll be trouble
in dis town, sho's my name's Nelse."

"Don't you resist their officer. Come to me if you
get into trouble with them," was the Preacher's parting
injunction.

Nelse made his way out, leading Charlie by the hand
and bowing his giant form in a quaint, deferential way
to the white people he knew. He seemed proud of his

The Old and the New Church 43

association in the church with the whites, and the posi-
tion of inferiority assigned him in no sense disturbed
his pride. He was muttering to himself as he walked
slowly along looking down at the ground thoughtfully.
There was infinite scorn and defiance in his voice.

"Bu-ro! Bu-ro! Des let 'em fool wid me! I'll
make 'em see de seben stars in de middle er de day!"

CHAPTER VI
THE PREACHER AND THE WOMAN OF BOSTON

THE next day the Preacher had a call from Miss
Susan Walker, of Boston, whose liberality had
built the new negro schoolhouse and whose
life and fortune was devoted to the education and
elevation of the Negro race. She had been in the village
often within the year, running up from Independence,
where she was building and endowing a magnificent
classical college for Negroes. He had often heard of
her, but as she stopped with Negroes when on her visits
he had never met her. He was especially interested in
her after hearing incidentally that she was a member
of a Baptist church in Boston.

On entering the parlour the Preacher greeted his
visitor with the deference the typical Southern man
instinctively pays to woman.

"I am pleased to meet you, Madam," he said with
a graceful bow and kindly smile, as he led her to the
most comfortable seat he could find.

She looked him squarely in the face for a moment as
though surprised, and smilingly replied:

"I believe you Southern men are all alike — woman
flatterers. You have a way of making every woman
believe you think her a queen. It pleases me, I can't
help confessing it, though I sometimes despise myself
for it. But I am not going to give you an opportunity
to feed my vanity this morning. I've come for a plain
face to face talk with you on the one subject that fills
my heart — my work among the Freedmen. You are a

41

The Preacher and the Woman of Boston 45

Baptist minister. I have a right to your friendship
and cooperation."

A cloud overshadowed the Preacher's face as he
seated himself. He said nothing for a moment, looking
curiously and thoughtfully at his visitor.

He seemed to be studying her character and to be
puzzled by the problem. She was a woman of prepos-
sessing appearance, well past thirty-five, with streaks
of gray appearing in her smoothly brushed back hair.
She was dressed plainly in rich brown material cut in
tailor fashion, and her heavy hair was drawn straight up
pompadour style from her forehead with apparent care-
lessness and yet in a way that heightened the impression
of strength and beauty in her face. Her nose was the
one feature that gave warning of trouble in an encounter.
She was plump in figure, almost stout, and her nose
seemed too small for the breadth of her face. It was
broad enough, but too short, and was pug-tipped slightly
at the end. She fell just a little short of being handsome
and this nose was responsible for the failure. It gave
to her face when agitated, in spite of evident culture
and refinement, the expression of a feminine bulldog.

Her eyes were flashing now, and her nostrils opened
a little wider and began to push the tip of her nose
upward. At last she snapped out suddenly:

"Well, which is it, friend or foe? What do you
honestly think of my work?"

"Pardon me, Miss Walker, I am not accustomed to
speak rudely to a lady. If I am honest, I don't know
where to begin."

"Bah! Lay aside your Don Quixote Southern
chivalry this morning and talk to me in plain English.
It doesn't matter whether I am a woman or a man. I
am an idea, a divine mission this morning. I mean to
establish a high school in this village for the Negroes,

46 The Leopard's Spots

and to build a Baptist church for them. I learn from
them that they have great faith in you. Many of them
desire your approval and cooperation. Will you help
me?"

"To be perfectly frank, I will not. You ask me for
plain English. I will give it to you. Your presence
in this village as a missionary to the heathen is an insuit
to our intelligence and Christian manhood. You come
at this late day a missionary among the heathen, the
heathen whose heart and brain created this Republic
with civil and religious liberty for its foundations, a
missionary among the heathen who gave the world
Washington, whose giant personality three times saved
the cause of American Liberty from ruin when his army
had melted away. You are a missionary among the
children of Washington, Jefferson, Monroe, Madison,
Jackson, Clay and Calhoun ! Madam, I have baptised
into the fellowship of the church of Christ in this county
more negroes than you ever saw in all your life before
you left Boston.

"At the close of the war there were thousands of
Negro members of white Baptist churches in the state.
Your mission is not to proclaim the gospel of Jesus
Christ. Your mission is to teach crack-brained theories
of social and political equality to four millions of ignorant
Negroes, some of whom are but fifty years removed
from the savagery of African jungles. Your work is to
separate and alienate the Negroes from their former
masters, who only can be their real friends and
guardians. Your work is to sow the dragon's teeth
of an impossible social order that will bring forth
its harvest of blood for our children."

He paused a moment, and, suddenly facing her,
continued: "I should like to help the cause you have at
heart, and the most effective service I could render it

The Preacher and the Woman of Boston 47

now would be to box you up in a glass cage, such as are
used for rattlesnakes, and ship you back to Boston."
"Indeed! I suppose then it is still a crime in the
South to teach the Negro ? " She asked this in little gasps
of fury, her eyes flashing defiance and her two rows of
white teeth uncovering by the rising of her pugnacious
nose."

"For you, yes. It is always a crime to teach a lie."

"Thank you. Your frankness is all one could wish ! "

"Pardon my apparent rudeness. You not only

invited, you demanded it. While about it, let me make

a clean breast of it. I do you personally the honour

to acknowledge that you are honest and in dead earnest

and that you mean well. You are simply a fanatic."

"Allow me again to thank you for your candour!"

"Don't mention it, Madam. You will be canonised

in due time. In the meantime, let us understand one

another. Our lives are now very far apart, though

we read the same Bible, worship the same God and hold

the same great faith. In the settlement of this Negro

question you are an insolent interloper. You're worse ;

you are a wilful, spoiled child of rich and powerful

parents playing with matches in a powder-mill. I not

only will not help you, I would, if I had the power, seize

you and remove you to a place of safety. But I cannot

oppose you. You are protected in your play by a

million bayonets, and back of these bayonets are banked

the fires of passion in the North ready to burst into

flame in a moment. The only thing I can do is to ignore

your existence. You understand my position."

"Certainly, Doctor," she replied, good-naturedly.

She had recovered from the rush of her anger now

and was herself again. A curious smile played round

her lips as she quietly added:

"I must really thank you for your candour. You

48 The Leopard's Spots

have helped me immensely. I now understand the
situation perfectly. I shall go forward cheerfully in my
work and never bother my brain again about you, or
your people, or your point of view. You have aroused
all the fighting blood in me. I feel toned up and ready
for a life struggle. I assure you I shall cherish no ill
feeling toward you. I am only sorry to see a man of
your powers so blinded by prejudice. I will simply
ignore you."

"Then, Madam, it is quite clear we agree upon
establishing and maintaining a great mutual
ignorance. Let us hope, paradoxical as it may seem,
that it may be for the enlightenment of future genera-
tions."

She rose to go, smiling at his last speech.

"Before we part, perhaps never to meet again, let me
ask you one question," said the Preacher, still looking
thoughtfully at her.

"Certainly, as many as you like."

"Why is it that you good people of the North are
spending your millions here now to help only the
Negroes, who feel least of all the sufferings of this war?
The poor white people of the South are your own flesh
and blood. These Scotch Covenanters are of the same
Puritan stock, these German, Huguenot and English
people are all your kinsmen, who stood at the stake
with your fathers in the Old World. They are, many
of them, homeless, without clothes, sick and hungry
and broken-hearted. But one in ten of them ever
owned a slave. They had to fight this war because
your armies invaded their soil. But for their sorrows,
sufferings and burdens you have no ear to hear and no
heart to pity. This is a strange thing to me."

"The white people of the South can take care of
themselves. If they suffer, it is God's just punishment

The Preacher and the Woman of Boston 49

for their sins in owning slaves and fighting against the
flag. Do I make myself clear?" she snapped.

"Perfectly; I haven't another word to say."

"My heart yearns for the poor, dear black people
who have suffered so many years in slavery and have
been denied the rights of human beings. I am not only
going to establish schools and colleges for them here,
but I am conducting an experiment of thrilling interest
to me which will prove that their intellectual, moral
and social capacity is equal to any white man's."

"Is it so?" asked the Preacher.

"Yes, I am collecting from every section of the South
the most promising specimens of Negro boys and
sending them to our great Northern Universities, where
they will be educated among men who treat them as
equals, and I expect from the boys reared in this atmos-
phere men of transcendent genius, whose brilliant
achievements in science, art and letters will forever
silence the tongues of slander against their race. The
most interesting of these students I have at Harvard
now is young George Harris. His mother is Eliza
Harris, the history of whose escape over the ice of the
Ohio River fleeing from slavery thrilled the world. This
boy is a genius, and if he lives he will shake this nation."

"It may be, Miss Walker. There are more ways than
one to shake a nation. And while as a citizen and
public man I ignore your work, privately and personally
I shall watch this experiment with profound interest."

"I know it wilf succeed. I believe God made us of
one blood," she said with enthusiasm.

"Is it true, Madam, that you once endowed a home
for homeless cats before you became interested in the
black people ? " With a twinkle in his eye the Preacher
softly asked this apparently irrelevant question.

"Yes, sir, I did — I am proud of it. I love cats.

50 The Leopard's Spots

There are more than a thousand in the home now, and
they are well cared for. Whose business is it?"

" I meant no offense by the question. I love cats, too.
But I wondered if you were collecting Negroes only now,
or whether you were adding other specimens to your
menagerie for experimental purposes."

She bit her lips, and in spite of her efforts to restrain
her anger, tears sprang to her eyes as she turned toward
the Preacher, whose face now looked calmly down upon
her with ill-concealed pride.

"Oh, the insolence of you Southern people toward
those who dare to differ with you about the Negro!"
she cried with rage.

"I confess it humbly as a Christian, it is true. My
scorn for these maudlin ideas is so deep that words have
no power to convey it. But come," said the Preacher,
in the kindliest tone. "Enough of this. I am pained to
see tears in your eyes. Pardon my thoughtlessness.
Let us forget now for a little while that you are an idea,
and remember only that you are a charming Boston
woman of the household of our own faith. Let me call
Mrs. Durham and have you know her and discuss with
her the thousand and one things dear to all women's
hearts."

"No, I thank you! I feel a little sore and bruised,
and social amenities can have no meaning for those
whose souls are on fire with such antagonistic ideas as
yours and mine. If Mrs. Durham can give me any
sympathy in my work I'll be delighted to see her,
otherwise I must go."

The Preacher laughed aloud.

"Then let me beg of you, never meet Mrs. Durham.
If you do, the war will break out again. I don't wish
to figure in a case of assault and battery. Mrs. Durham
was the owner of fifty slaves. She represents the bluest

The Preacher and the Woman of Boston 51

of the blue blood of the slave-holding aristocracy of the
South. She has never surrendered and she never will.
Wars, surrenders, constitutional amendments and such
little things make no impression on her mind whatever.
If you think I am difficult, you had better not puzzle
your brain over her. I am a mildly constructive man
of progress. She is a Conservative."

"Then we will say good-by," said Miss Walker,
extending her small, plumn hand in friendly parting.
"I accept your challenge which this interview implies.
I will succeed if God lives/' and she set her lips with a
snap that spoke volumes.

"And I will watch you from afar with sorrow and
fear and trembling," responded the Preacher.

CHAPTER VII
THE HEART OF A CHILD

MRS. GASTON'S recovery from the brain fever
which followed her prostration was slow and
painful. For days she would be quite herself
as she would sit up in bed and smile at the wistful face
of the boy who sat tenderly gazing into her eyes, or with
swift feet was running to do her slightest wish.

Then days of relapse would follow, when the child's
heart would ache and ache with a dumb sense of despair
as he listened to her incoherent talk and heard her
meaningless laughter. When at length he could endure
it no longer, he would call Aunt Eve, run from the house
as fast as his little legs could carry him, and in the
woods lie down in the shadows and cry for hours.

"I wonder if God is dead!" he said one day as he
lay and gazed at the clouds sweeping past the openings
in the green foliage above.

"I pray every day and every night, but she don't get
well. Why does He leave her like that, when she's
' so good?" and then his voice choked into sobs, and he
buried his face in the leaves.

He was suddenly roused by the voice of Nelse, who
stood looking down on his forlorn figure with tenderness.

"What you doin' out in dese woods, honey, by
yo'se'f?"

"Nothin', Nelse."

"I knows. You'se er crying 'bout yo' Ma."

The boy nodded without looking up.

52

The Heart of a Child 53

"Doan' do dat way, honey. You'se too little ter cry
lak dat. Yer Ma's gittin' better ev'ry day; de doctor
done tole me so."

"Do you think so, Nelse?" There was an eagerness
and yearning in the child's voice that would have
moved the heart of a stone.

'"Cose I does. She be strong en well in little while
when cole wedder comes. Fros' '11 soon be here. I see
whar er ole rabbit been er eatin' on my turnip tops.
Dat's er sho' sign. I gwine make you er rabbit box
ter-morrer ter ketch dat rabbit."

"Will you, Nelse?"

"Sho's you bawn. Now des lemme pick you er
chune on dis banjer 'fo' I goes ter my wuk."

Of all the music he had ever heard, the boy thought
Nelse's banjo was the sweetest. He accompanied the
music in a deep bass voice which he kept soft and
soothing. The boy sat entranced. With wide-open
eyes and half-parted lips he dreamed his mother was
well, and then that he had grown to be a man — a great
man, rich and powerful. Now he was the Governor of
the state, living in the Governor's palace, and his
mother was presiding at a banquet in his honour. He
was bending proudly ever her and whispering to her
that she was the most beautiful mother in the world.
And he could hear her say with a smile,

"You dear boy!"

Suddenly the banjo stopped, and Nelse railed with
mock severity, "Now, look at 'im er cryin' ergin, en me
er pickin' de eens er my fingers off fur 'im !"

"No, I ain't cryin'. I am just listenin' to the music.
Nelse, you're the greatest banjo player in the world."

"Na, honey, hit's de banjer. Dat's de Jo-bloin'est
banjer ! En des ter t'ink — er Yankee gin 'er to me in
de wah. Dat wuz de fus' Yankee I ebber seed hab

54 The Leopard's Spots

sense ernuf ter own er banjer. I kinder hate ter fight
dem Yankees atter dat."

''But, Nelse, if you were fighting with our men how
did you get close to any Yankees?"

"Lawd, child, we's allers slippin' out twixt de lines
atter night, er carryin' on wid dem Yankees. We trade
'em terbaccer fur coffee en sugar, en play cyards, en
talk twell mos' day sometime. I slip out fust in er patch
er woods twix' de lines en make my banjer talk. En
den yere dey come ! De Yankees fum one way en our
boys de yudder. I make out lak I doan' see 'em tall, des
playin' ter myself. Den I make dat banjer moan en
cry en talk about de folks way down in Dixie. De boys
creep up closer en closer twell dey right at my elbow en
I see 'em cryin', some un 'em — den I 'gin 'er a juk ! en
way she go pluckety plunck ! en dey 'gin ter dance and
laugh ! Sometimes dey cuss me lak dey mad en lam me
on de back. When dey hit me hard den I know dey
ready ter gimme all dey got."

"But how did you get this banjo, Nelse?"

"Yankee gin 'er ter me one night ter try 'er, en when
he hear me des fairly pull de insides outen 'er he 'low
dat hit 'd be er sin ter ebber sep'rate us. Say he nebber
know what 'uz in er banjer."

Nelse rose to go.

"Now, honey, doan' you cry no mo', en I make you
dat rabbit box sho', en erlong 'bout Chris'mas I gwine
larn you how ter shoot."

"Will you let me hold the gun?" the boy eagerly
asked.

"I des sho' you how ter poke yo' gun in de cracker
de fence en whisper ter de trigger. Den look out, birds
en rabbits ! "

The boy's face was one great smile.

It was late in September before his mother was strong

The Heart of a Child 55

enough to venture out of the house — six terrible months
from the day s-he was stricken. What an age it seemed
to a sensitive boy's soul. To him the days were weeks,
the weeks months, the months long, weary years. It
seemed to him he had lived a lifetime, died, and was
born again the day he saw her first walking on
the soft grass that grew under the big trees at the
back of the house. He was gently holding her by
the hand.

"Now, Mamma dear, sit here on this seat — you
musn't get in the sun."

"But, Charlie, I want to see the flowers on the front
lawn."

"No, no, Mamma; the sun is shinin' awful on that
side of the house ! "

A great fear caught the boy's heart. The lawn had
grown up a mass of weeds and grass during the long,
hot summer, and he was afraid his mother would cry
when she saw the ruin of those flowers she loved so well.

How impossible for his child's mind to foresee the
gathering black hurricane of tragedy and ruin soon to
burst over that lawn !

Skilfully and firmly he kept her on the seat in the
rear, where she could not see the lawn. He said every-
thing he could think of to please her. She would smile
and kiss him in her old sweet way until his heart was
full to bursting.

"Do you remember, Mamma, how many times when
you were so sick I used to slip up close and kiss your
mouth and eyes?"

" I often dreamed you were kissing me."

"I thought you would know. I'll soon be a man.
I'm going to be rich and build a great house, and you are
going to live in it with me, and I am to take care of you
as long as you live."

56 The Leopard's Spots

"I expect you will marry some pretty girl and
almost forget your old Mamma, who will be getting
gray."

"But I'll never love anybody like I love you, Mamma
dear!"

His little arms slipped around her neck, held her close
for a moment, and then he tenderly kissed her.

After supper he sought Nelse.

"Nelse, we must work out the flowers in the lawn.
Mamma wants to see them. It was all I could do to
keep her from going out there to-day."

"Lawd, chile, hit '11 take two niggers er week ter clean
out dat lawn. Hit's gone fur dis year. Yer Ma'll know
dat, honey."

The next morning after breakfast the boy found
a hoe, and in the piercing sun began manfully to
work at those flowers. He had worked perhaps
a half-hour. His face was red with heat and wet
with sweat. He was tired already and seemed to
make no impression on the wilderness of weeds and
grass.

Suddenly he looked up and saw his mother smiling
at him.

"Come here, Charlie !" she called.

He dropped his hoe and hurried to her side. She
caught him in her arms and kissed the sweat drops from
his eyes and mouth.

"You are the sweetest boy in the world."

What music to his soul these words to the last day of
his life !

"I was afraid when you saw all these weeds you would
cry about your flowers, Mamma."

"It does hurt me, dear, to see them, but it's worth all
their loss to see you out there in the broiling sun working
so hard to please me. I've seen the most beautiful

The Heart of a Child 57

flower this morning that ever blossomed on my lawn — •
and its perfume will make sweet my whole life. I am
going to be brave and live for you now."
And she kissed him fondly again.

CHAPTER VIII
AN EXPERIMENT IN MATRIMONY

NELSE was informed by the Agent of the Freed-
man's Bureau, when summoned before that
tribunal, that he must pay a fee of one dollar
for a marriage license and be married over again.

"What's dat? Dis yer war bust up me en Eve's
marryin'?"

"Yes." said the Agent. "You must be legally
married."

Nelse chuckled on a brilliant scheme that flashed
through his mind.

"Den I see you ergin 'bout dat," he said, as he hastily
took his leave.

He made his way homeward, revolving his brilliant
scheme. "But won't I fetch dat nigger Eve down
er peg er two ! I gwine ter make her t'ink I won' marry
her nohow. I make 'er ax my pardon fur all dem little
disergreements. She got ter talk mighty putty now sho'
'nuf." And he smiled over his coming triumph.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon when he reached
his cabin door on the lot back of Mrs. Gaston's home.
Eve was busy mending some clothes for their little boy,
now nearly five years old.

"Good-evenin', Miss Eve!"

Eve looked up at him with a sudden flash of her eye.

"What de matter wid you, nigger?"

"NutthV 'tall. Des drapped in lak ter pass de time

58

An Experiment in Matrimony 59

er day, en ax how's you en yer son standin' dis hot
wedder." Nelse bowed and smiled.

"What ail you, you big black baboon?"

"Nuttin' 'tall, Ma'am; des callin' roun' ter see my
f rien's." Still smiling, Nelse walked in and sat down.

Eve put down her sewing, stood up before him, her
arms akimbo, and gazed at him steadily till the whites
of her eyes began to shine like two moons.

"You wants me ter whale you ober de head wid dat
poker?"

"Not dis evenin', Ma'am."

"Den what ail you?"

" De Buro des inform me dat es I'se er han'some young
man en you'se er gittin' kinder ole en fat, dat we ain't
married nohow. En dey gimme er paper fur er dollar
dat allow me ter marry de young lady er my choice.
Dat sho' is er great Buro!"

"We ain't married?"

"Nob-um."

"After we stan' up dar befo' Marse John Durham en
say des what all dem white folks say ? "

"Nob-um."

Eve slowly took her seat and gazed down the road
thoughtfully.

" I t'ink I drap eroun' ter see you en gin you er chance
wid de odder gals 'fo' I steps off," explained Nelse, with
a grin.

No answer.

"You 'member dat night I say sumfin' 'bout er gal I
know once, en you riz en grab er poun' er wool out en my
head 'fo' I kin move?"

No answer yet.

"Min* dat time you bust de biscuit bode ober my
head, en lam me wid de fire-shovel, en hit me in de burr
er de year wid er flatiron es I wuz makin' fur de do' ?"

60 The Leopard's Spots

"Yas, I min's dat sho'!" said Eve with evident
satisfaction.

"Doan' you wish you nebber done dat?"

"You black debbil!"

"Dat's hit! I'se er bad nigger, Ma'am — bad nigger
'fo' de war. En I'se gittin' wuss en wuss," Nelse
chuckled.

She looked at him with gathering rage and contempt.

"En den fudder mo', Ma'am, I doan' lak de way you
talk ter me sometimes. Yo' voice des kinder takes de
skin off same's er file. I laks ter hear er 'oman's voice
lak my Missy's, des es sof es wool. Sometime one word
from her keep me warm all winter. De way you talk
sometimes make me cole in de summer time."

Nelse rose while Eve sat motionless.

"I des call, Ma'am, ter drap er little intment inter dem
years er yourn dat '11 percerlate froo you min', en when
I calls ergin I hopes ter be welcome wid smiles."

Nelse bowed himself out the door in grandiloquent
style.

All the afternoon he was laughing to himself over
his triumph, and imagining the welcome when he
returned that evening with his marriage license and the
officer to perform the ceremony. At supper in the
kitchen he was polite and formal in his manners to Eve.
She eyed him in a contemptuous sort of way and never
spoke unless it was absolutely necessary.

It was about half-past eight when Nelse arrived at
home with the license duly issued and the officer of the
Bureau ready to perform the ceremony.

"Des wait er minute here at de corner, sah, 'twell I
kinder breaks de news to 'em," said Nelse to the officer.
He approached the cabin door and knocked.

It was shut and fastened. He got no response.

He knocked loudly again.

An Experiment in Matrimony 61

Eve thrust her head out the window.

"Who's dat?"

"Hit's me, Ma'am, Mister Nelson Gaston. I'se call
ter see you."

"Den you hump yo'se'f en git away from dat do',
you rascal."

" De Lawd, honey, I'se des been er foolin' you ter-day.
I'se got dem license en de Buro man right out dar now
ready ter marry us. You know yo' ole man nebber
gwine back on you — I des been er foolin'."

"Den you been er foolin' wid de wrong nigger."

"Lawd, honey, doan' keep de bridegroom er waitin'."

"Git erway from dat do' !"

"G'long, chile, en quit yer projeckin'." Nelse was
using his softest and most persuasive tones now.

"G'way from dat do'!"

"Come on, Eve; de man waitin' out dar fur us!"

"Git away, I tells you, er I scald you wid er kittle
er hot water."

Nelse drew back slightly from the door.

"But, honey, whar yo' ole man gwine ter sleep?"

"Dey's straw in de barn, en pine shatters in de dog-
house!" she shouted, slamming the window.

"Eve, honey! "

"Doan' you come honeyin' me; I'se er spec'able
'oman, I is. Ef you wants ter marry me you got ter
come cotin' me in de daytime fust, en bring me candy,
en ribbins, en flowers and sich, en you got ter talk
purtier'n you ebber talk in all yo' born days. Lots er
likely lookin' niggers come settin' up ter me while you
gone in dat wah, en I keep studin' 'bout you, you big
black rascal. Now you got ter hump yo'se'f ef you
eber see de inside er dis cabin ergin."

Crestfallen, Nelse returned to the officer.

"Wall, sah, dey's er kinder hitch in de perceedin's."

62 The Leopard's Spots

" What's the matter?"

"She 'low I got ter come cotin' her fust. En I 'spec'
I is."

The officer laughed and returned to his home. She
made Nelse sleep in the barn for three weeks, court her
an hour every day, and bring her five cents' worth of red
stick candy and a bouquet of flowers as a peace offering
at every visit. Finally she made him write her a note
and ask her to take a ride with him. Nelse got Charlie
to write it for him, and made his own boy carry it to
his mother. After three weeks of humility and attention
to her wishes she gave her consent and they were duly
married again.

CHAPTER IX
A MASTER OF MEN

THE first Monday in October was court day in
Hambright, and from every nook and corner
of Campbell County the people flocked to town.
The court-house had not yet been transformed into the
farce-tragedy hall where jailbirds and drunken loafers
were soon to sit on judge's bench and in attorney's chair
instead of standing in the prisoner's dock. The merciful
stay laws enacted by the Legislature had silenced the
cry of the auctioneer until the people might have a
moment to gird themselves for a new life struggle.

But the black cloud was already seen on the horizon.
The people were restless and discouraged by the wild
rumours set afloat by the Freedman's Bureau, of coming
confiscation, revolution and revenge. A greater crowd
than usual had come to town on the first day. The
streets were black with Negroes.

A shout was heard from the crowd in the square as
the stalwart figure of General Daniel Worth, the brigade
commander of Colonel Gaston's regiment, was seen
shaking hands with the men of his old army.

The General was a man to command instant attention
in any crowd. An expert in anthropology would have
selected his face from among a thousand as the typical
man of the Caucasian race. He was above the average
height, a strong, muscular and well-rounded body,
crowned by a heavy shock of what had once been raven-

64 The Leopard's Spots

black hair, now iron gray. His face was ruddy with the
glow of perfect health, and his full round lips and the
twinkle of his eye showed him to be a lover of the
good things of life. He wore a heavy mustache, which
seemed a fitting ballast for the lower part of his face
against the heavy projecting straight eyebrows and
bushy hair.

As he shook hands with his old soldiers his face was
wreathed in smiles, his eyes flashed with something like
tears, and he had a pleasant word for all.

Tom Camp was one of the first to spy the General and
hobble to him as fast as his peg4eg would carry him.

" Howdy, General, howdy do! Lordy, it's good for
sore eyes ter see ye !" Tom held fast to his hand and,
turning to the crowd, said:

" Boys, here's the best General that ever led a brigade,
and there wasn't a man in it that wouldn't 'a' died for
him. Now three times three cheers !" And they gave
them with a will.

"Ah, Tom, you're still at your old tricks, " said the
General. "What are you after now?"

"A speech, General!"

"A speech ! A speech !" the crowd echoed.

The General slapped Tom on the back and said:

"What sort of a job is this you're putting up on me ?
I'm no orator. But I'll just say to you, boys, that this
old peg-leg here was the finest soldier that I ever saw
carry a musket, and the men who stood beside him
were the most patient, the most obedient, the bravest
men that ever charged a foe and crowned their General
with glory, while he safely stood in the rear."

Again a cheer broke forth. The General was hurrying
toward the court-house, when he was suddenly sur-
rounded by a crowd of Negroes. In the front ranks
were a hundred of his old slaves who had worked on his

A Master of Men 65

Campbell County plantation. They seized his hands and
laughed and cried and pleaded for recognition like a
crowd of children. Most of them he knew. Some of
their faces he had forgotten.

"Hi dar, Marse Dan'l, you knows me! Lordy, Fse
your boy Joe dat used ter ketch yo' hoss down at the
plantation !"

"Of course, Joe, of course."

"I know Marse Dan'l ain't forget old Uncle Rube,'*
said an aged Negro, pushing his way to the front.

"That I haven't, Reuben; and how's Aunt Julia
Ann?"

" She des tollable, Marse Dan'l. We'se bof un us had
de plumbago. How is you all sence de wah? "

"Oh, first rate, Reuben. We manage somehow to
get enough to eat, and if we do that nowadays we
can't complain."

"Dats de God's truf, Marster, sho' ! En now, Marse
Dan'l, we all wants you ter make us er speech en 'splain
erbout dis freedom ter us. Dey's so many dese yere
Buroers en Leaguers 'round here tellin' us niggers
what's er coming, twell we des doan' know nuttin'
fur sho'."

"Yassir, dat's hit! You tell us er speech, Marse
Dan'l!"

The white men crowded up nearer and joined in the
cry. There was no escape. In a few moments the
court-house was filled with a crowd.

When he arose a cheer shook the building, and strange
as it may seem to-day, it came with almost equal
enthusiasm from white and black.

14 1 thank you, my friends," said the General, "for this
evidence of your confidence. I was a Whig in politics.
I reckon I hated a Democrat as God hates sin. I was a
Union man and fought Secession. My opponents won.

66 The Leopard's Spots

My State asked me to defend her soil. As an obedient
son I gave my life in loyal service.

"I need not tell you as a Union man that I am glad
this war is over. I have always felt as a business
man, a cotton manufacturer as well as farmer, in touch
with the free labour of the North as well as the slave
labour of the South, that free labour was the most
economical and efficient. I believe that, terrible as the
loss of four billions of dollars in slaves will be to the
South, if the South is only let alone by the politicians
and allowed to develop her resources she will become
what God meant her to be, the garden of the world. I
say it calmly and deliberately, I thank God that slavery
is a thing of the past."

A whirlwind of applause arose from the Negroes.
Uncle Reuben's voice could be heard above the din.

"Hear dat, you niggers! Dat's my ole Marster
talkin' now!" <

" Let me say to the Negroes here to-day, this war was
not fought for your freedom by the North, and yet in
its terrific struggle God saw fit to give you freedom.
Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are now yours
and the birthright of your children.

"We need your labour. Be honest, humble, patient,
industrious, and every white man in the South will be
your friend. What you need now is to go to work with
all your might, build a roof over your head, get a few
acres of land under your feet that is your own, put
decent clothes on your back and some money in the
bank, and you will become indispensable to the people
of the South. They will be your best friends and
give you every right and privilege you are prepared
to receive.

"The man who tells you that your old Master's land
will be divided among you is a criminal, or a fool, or

A Master of Men 67

both. If you ever own land, you will earn it in the
sweat of your brow, like I got mine."

"Hear dat now, niggers!" cried old Reuben.

"The man who tells you that you are going to be
given the ballot indiscriminately with which you can
rule your old masters is a criminal, or a fool, or both. It
is insanity to talk about the enfranchisement of a million
slaves who cannot read their ballots. Mr. Lincoln,
who set you free, was opposed to any such measure.

"Let me read an extract from a letter Mr. Lincoln
wrote me just before the war."

The General drew from his pocket a letter in the hand-
writing of the President and read :

"My Dear Worth: You must hold the Union men
of the South together at all hazards. The one passion
of my soul is to save the Union. In answer to the
question you ask me about the equality of the races, I
enclose you a newspaper clipping reporting my reply to
Judge Douglas at Charleston, September 18, 1858. I
could not express myself more plainly. Have this
extract published in every paper in the South you can
get to print it."

The General paused and, turning toward the Negroes,
said:

"Now listen carefully to every word. Says Mr.
Lincoln :

" ' / am not nor ever have been in favour of bringing
about in any way the social and political equality of the
white and black races ! (here is marked applause from a
Northern audience.) / am not nor ever have been in
favour of making voters or jurors of Negroes, nor of
qualifying them to hold office, nor to intermarry with
white people, I will say in addition to this that there

6S The Leopard's Spots

is a physical difference between the white and black races
which I believe will forever forbid the two races living
together on terms of social and political equality: and
inasmuch as they cannot so live, while they do remain
togetlier there must be ilte position of the inferior and
superior, and I am, as much as any other man, in favour
of having the superior position assigned to the white race. '

"This was Lincoln's position and is the position of
nine-tenths of the voters of his party. It is insanity to
believe that the Anglo-Saxon race at the North can ever
be so blinded by passion that they can assume any
other position.

"Slavery is dead for all time. It would have been
destroyed whatever the end of the war. I know some
of the secrets of the diplomatic history of the Con-
federacy. General Lee asked the Government at Rich-
mond to enlist 200,000 Negroes to defend the South,
which he declared was their country as well as ours,
and grant them freedom on enlistment. General Lee's
request was ultimately accepted as the policy of the
Confederacy, though too late to save its waning fortunes.
Not only this, but the Confederate Government sent a
special ambassador to England and France and offered
them the pledge of the South to emancipate every slave
in return for the recognition of the independence of the
Confederacy. But when the ambassador arrived in
Europe the lines of our army had been so broken that
governments were afraid to interfere.

"The man who tells you that your old masters are
your enemies and may try to reinslave you is a wilful
and malicious liar."

"Hear dat, folks!" yelled old Reuben, as he waved
his arms grandly toward the crowd.

"To the white people here to-day I say be of good

A Master of Men 69

cheer. Let politics alone for awhile and build up your
ruined homes. You have boundless wealth in your soil.
God will not forget to send the rain and the dew and the
sun. You showed yourselves on a hundred fields ready
to die for your country. Now I ask you to do something
braver and harder. Live for her when it is hard to
live. Let cowards run, but let the brave stand shoulder
to shoulder and build up the waste places till our
country is once more clothed in wealth and beauty."

The General in closing bowed to a round of applause.
His soldiers were delighted with his speech and his
old slaves revelled in it with personal pride. But the
rank and file of the Negroes were puzzled. He did not
preach the kind of doctrine they wished to hear. They
had hoped freedom meant eternal rest, not work. They
had dreamed of a life of ease, with government rations
three times a day and old army clothes to last till they
put on the white robes above and struck their golden
harps in paradise. This message the General brought
was painful to their newly awakened imaginations.

As the General passed through the crowd he met the
Ex-Provisional Governor, Amos Hogg, busy with the
organising work of his Leagues.

"Glad to see you, General," said Hogg, extending his
hand with a smile.

"Well, how are you, Amos, since Macon pulled your
wool?"

"Never felt better in my life, General. I want a few
minutes' talk with you."

"All right, what is it?"

"General, you're a progressive man. Come, you're
flirting with the enemy. The truly loyal men must get
together to rescue the state from the rebels who have it
again under their heel."

"So Macon's a rebel because he licked you?"

?o The Leopard's Spots

"You know the rebel crowd are running this state,"
said Hogg.

"Why, Hogg, you were the biggest fool Secessionist I
ever saw, and Macon and I were staunch Union men.
We had to fight you tooth and nail. You talk about
the truly loyal!"

"Yes, but, General, I've repented. I've got my
face turned toward the light."

"Yes, I see — the light that shines in the Governor's
Mansion."

"I don't deny it. 'Great men choose greater sins,
ambition's mine.' Come into this Union movement
with me, Worth, and I'll make you the next Governor."

"I'll see you in hell first. No, Amos, we don't belong
to the same breed. You were a Secessionist as long as
it paid. When the people you had misled were being
overwhelmed with ruin, and it no longer paid, you
deserted and became 'loyal' to get an office. Now
you're organising the Negroes, deserters and criminals
into your secret oath-bound societies. Union men when
the war came fought on one side or the other because
a Union man was a man, not a coward. If he felt his
state claimed his first love, he fought for his native
soil. The gang of plugs you are getting together now
as 'truly loyal' are simply cowards, deserters and
common criminals who claim they were persecuted as
Union men. It's a weak lie."

"We'll win," urged Hogg.

" Never ! " the General snorted, and angrily turned on
his heel. Before leaving, he wheeled suddenly, faced
Hogg and said:

"Go on with your fool societies. You are sowing the
wind. There'll be a lively harvest. I am organising,
too. I'm organising a cotton mill, rebuilding our
burned factory, borrowing money from the Yankees

A Master of Men 71

who licked us to buy machinery and give employment
to thousands of our poor people. That's the way to
save the state. We've got water-power enough to
turn the wheels of the world."

"You'll need our protection in the fight that's
coming," replied Hogg, with a straight look that meant 1
much.

The General was silent a moment. Then he shook
his fist in Hogg's face and slowly said:

"Let me tell you something. When I need protec*
tion I'll go to headquarters. I've got Yankee money
in my mills and I can get more if I need it. You lay
your dirty claws on them and I'll break your neck."

CHAPTER X
THE MAN OR BRUTE IN EMBRYO

TWO months later General Worth, while busy
rebuilding his mills at Independence, had
served on him a summons to appear before the
Agent of the Freedman 's Bureau at Hambright and
answer the charge of using "abusive language" to a
freedman.

The particular freedman who desired to have his
feelings soothed by law was a lazy young negro about
sixteen years old whom the General had ordered whipped
and sent from the stables into the fields on one occasion
during the war while on a visit to his farm. Evidently
the boy had a long memory.

"Now, don't that beat the devil!" exclaimed the
General.

"What is it?" asked his foreman.

"I've got to leave my work, ride on an old freight
train thirty miles, pull through twenty more miles of red
mud in a buggy to get to Hambright, and lose four days,
to answer such a charge as that before some little wizen-
eyed skunk of a Bureau Agent. My God, it's enough to
make a Union man remember Secession with regrets!"

"My stars, General, we can't get along without you
now when we are getting this machinery in place.
Send a lawyer," growled the foreman.

"Can't do it, John — I'm charged with a crime."

"Well, I'll swear!"

"Do the best you can; I'll be back in four days, if

72

The Man or Brute in Embryo 73

I don't kill a nigger," said the General, with a smile*
"I've got a settlement to make with the farmhands,
anyhow."

There was no help for it. When the court convened,
and the young Negro saw the face of his old master red
with wrath, his heart failed him. He fled the town and
there was no accusing witness.

The General gazed at the Agent with cold contempt
and never opened his mouth in answer to expressions
of regret at the fiasco.

A few moments later he rode up to the gate of his
farmhouse on the river hills about a mile out of town.
A strapping young fellow of fifteen hastened to open
the gate.

"Well, Allan, my boy, how are you?"

"First rate, General. We're glad to see you. But
we didn't make a half crop, sir; the niggers were always
in town loafing around that Freedman's Bureau, holding
meetings all night, and going to sleep in the fields."

"Well, show me the books," said the General as they
entered the house.

The General examined the accounts with care and
then looked at young Allan McLeod for a moment as
though he had made a discovery.

"Young man, you've done this work well."

"I tried to, sir. If the niggers disputed anything, I
fixed that by making the store-keepers charge each item
in two books, one on your account and one on an
account kept separate for every nigger."

"Good enough. They'll get up early to get ahead of
you."

"I'm afraid they are going to make trouble at the
Bureau, sir. That Agent's been here holding Union
League meetings two or three nights every week, and
he's got every nigger under his thumb."

74 The Leopard's Spots

"The dirty whelp !" growled the General.

"If you can see me out of the trouble, General, I'd
like to jump on him and beat the life out of him next
time he comes out here."

The General frowned.

"Don't you touch him — any more than you would
a polecat. I've trouble enough just now."

"I could knock the mud out of him in two minutes,
it you say the word," said Allan, eagerly.

'Yes, I've no doubt of it." The General looked at
him thoughtfully.

He was a well-knit, powerful youth just turned his
fifteenth birthday. He had red hair, a freckled face
and florid complexion. His features were regular and
pleasing, and his stalwart muscular figure gave him a
handsome look that impressed one with indomitable
physical energy. His lips were full and sensuous, his
eyebrows straight, and his high forehead spoke of brain
power as well as horse-power.

He had a habit of licking his lips and running his
tongue around inside of his cheeks when he saw anything
or heard anything that pleased him that was far from
intellectual in its suggestiveness. When he did this
one could not help feeling that he was looking at a
young, well-fed tiger e There was no doubt about his
being alive and that he enjoyed it. His boisterous
voice and ready laughter emphasised this impression.

"Allan, my boy," said the General, when he had
examined his accounts, "if you do everything in life
as well as you did these books you'll make a success."

"I'm going to do my best to succeed, General. I'll
not be a poor white man. I'll promise you that."

"Do you go to church anywhere?"

"No, sir. Maw's not a member of any church, and
it's so far to town I don't go."

The Man or Brute in Embryo 75

"Well, you must go. You must go to the Sunday-
school, too, and get acquainted with all the young
folks. I'll speak to Mrs. Durham and get her to look
after you."

"All right, sir; I'll start next Sunday." Allan was

feeling just then in a good humour with himself and all

the world. The compliment of his employer had so

' elated him he felt fully prepared to enter the ministry

if the General had only suggested it.

The following day was appointed for a settlement of
the annual contract with the Negroes. The Agent of
the Freedman's Bureau was the judge before whom the
General, his overseer and clerk of account and all
the Negroes assembled.

If the devil himself had devised an instrument for
creating race antagonism and strife he could not have
improved on this Bureau in its actual workings. Had
clean-handed, competent agents been possible it might
have accomplished good. These agents were as a rule
the riff-rati and trash of the North. It was the supreme
opportunity of army cooks, teamsters, fakirs and broken-
down preachers who had turned insurance agents.
They were lifted from penury to affluence and power.
The possibilities for corruption and downright theft
were practically limitless.

The Agent at Hambright had been a preacher in
Michigan who lost his church because of unsavoury
rumours about his character. He had eked out a living
as a book agent and then insurance agent. He was a
man of some education and had a glib tongue, which
the Negroes readily mistook for inspired eloquence.
He assumed great dignity and an extraordinary judicial
tone of voice when adjusting accounts.

General Worth submitted his accounts and they
showed that all but six of the fifty Negroes employed

76 The Leopard's Spots

had a little overdrawn their wages in provisions and
clothing.

"I think there is a mistake, General, in these
accounts," said the Reverend Ezra Perkins, the
Agent.

"What?" thundered the General.

"A mistake in your view of the contract, " answered
Ezra, in his oiliest tone.

The Negroes began to grin and nudge one another,
^mid exclamations of "Dar, now!" "Hear dat!"

"What do you mean? The contracts are plain.
There can be but one interpretation. I agreed to
furnish the men their supplies in advance and wait until
the end of the year for adjustment after the crops were
gathered. As it is, I will lose more than five hundred
dollars on the farm." The General paused and looked
at the Agent with rising wrath.

"It's useless to talk. I decide that under this
contract you are to furnish supplies yourself and pay
your people their monthly wages besides. I have
figured it out that you owe them a little more than
fifteen hundred dollars."

"Fifteen hundred dollars! You thief "

"Softly! Softly! I'll commit you for contempt
of court !"

The General turned on his heel without a word, sprang
on his horse, and in a few minutes alighted at the hotel.
He encountered the Assistant Agent of the Bureau on
the steps.

"Did you wish to see me, General?" he asked.

"No, I'm looking for a man — a Union soldier,
not a turkey buzzard." He dashed up to the
clerk's desk.

"Is Major Grant in his room?"

"Yes, sir."

The Man or Brute in Embryo 77

"Tell him I want to see him."

"What can I do for you, General Worth?" asked the
Major as he hastened to meet him.

"Major Grant, I understand you are a lawyer. You
are a man of principle, or you wouldn't have fought.
When I meet a man that fought us I know I am talking
to a man, not a skunk. This greasy, sanctified Bureau
Agent has decided that I owe my hands fifteen hundred
dollars. He knows it's a lie. But his power is absolute.
I have no appeal to a court. He has all the Negroes
under his thumb, and he is simply arranging to steal this
money. I want to pay you a hundred dollars as a
retainer and have you settle with the Lord's anointed,
the Reverend Ezra Perkins, for me."

"With pleasure, General. And it shall not cost you
a cent."

"I'll be glad to pay you, Major. Such a decision
enforced against me now would mean absolute ruin. I
can't borrow another cent."

"Leave Ezra with me."

"Why couldn't they put soldiers into this Bureau if
they had to have it, instead of these skunks and wolves ? "
snorted the General.

"Well, some of them are a little off in the odour of
their records at home, I'll admit," said the Major, with a
dry smile. "But this is the day of the carrion crow,
General. You know they always follow the armies.
They attack the wounded as well as the dead. You
have my heartfelt sympathy. You have dark days
ahead. The death of Mr. Lincoln was the most awful
calamity that could possibly have befallen the South.
I'm sorry. I've learned to like you Southerners and
to love these beautiful skies and fields of eternal green.
It's my country and yours. I fought you to keep it as
the heritage of my children."

78 The Leopard's Spots

The General's eyes filled with tears and the two men
silently clasped each other's hands.

" Send in your accounts by your clerk. I'll look them
over to-night and I've no doubt the Honourable Reverend
Ezra Perkins will see a new light with the rising of
to-morrow's sun."

And Ezra did see a new light. As the Major cursed
him in all the moods and tenses he knew, Ezra thought
he smelled brimstone in that light.

" I assure you, Major, I'm sorry the thing happened.
My assistant did all the work on these papers. I
hadn't time to give them personal attention," the Agent
apologised in his humblest voice.

"You're a liar. Don't waste your breath."

Ezra bit his lips and pulled his Mormon whiskers.

"Write out your decision now— this minute — con-
firming these accounts in double-quick order, unless you
are looking for trouble."

And Ezra hastened to do as he was bidden.
• ••••••

The next day, while the General was seated on the
porch of the little hotel discussing his campaigns with
Major Grant, Tom Camp sent for him.

Tom took the General round behind his house with
grave ceremony.

"What are you up to, Tom?"

"Show you in a minute. I wish I could make you a
handsomer present, General, to show you how much I
think of you. But I know yer weakness, anyhow.
There's the finest lot er lightwood you ever seed."

Tom turned back some old bagging and revealed a pile
of fat pine chips covered with resin, evidently chipped
carefully out of the boxed place of live pine trees.

The General had two crotchets, lightwood and water-
power. When he got hold of a fine lot of lightwood

The Man or Brute in Embryo 79

suitable for kindling fires he would fill his closet with it,
conceal it tinder his bed, and sometimes under his
mattress. He would even hide it in his bureau drawers
and wardrobe and take it out in little bits like a
miser.

"Lord, Tom, that beats the world!"

"Ain't it fine? Just smell!"

"Resin on every piece ! Tom, you cut every tree on
your place and every tree in two miles clean to get
that. You couldn't have made me a gift I would
appreciate more. Old boy, if there's ever a time in
your life that you need a friend, you know where to
find me."

"I knowed ye'd like it," said Tom, with a smile.

"Tom, you're a man after my own heart. You're
feeling rich enough to make your General a present
when we are all about to starve. You're a man of
faith. So am I. I say keep a stiff upper lip and peg
away. The sun still shines, the rains refresh, and water
runs down hill yet. That's one thing Uncle Billy
Sherman's army couldn't do much with when they put
us to the test of fire: he couldn't burn up our water-
power. Tom, you may not know it, but I do — we've
got water-power enough to turn every wheel in the
world. Wait till we get our harness on it and make it
spin and weave our cotton — we'll feed and clothe the
human race. Faith's my motto. I can hardly get
enough to eat now, but better times are coming. A
man's just as big as his faith. I've got faith in the
South. I've got faith in the good-will of the people of
the North. Slavery is dead. They can't feel anything
but kindly toward an enemy that fought as bravely
and lost all. We've got one country now and it's
going to be a great one.

"You're right, General; faith's the word*'

80 The Leopard's Spots

'Tom, you don't know how this gift from you
touches me."

The General pressed the old soldier's hand with
feeling. He changed his orders from a buggy to a two-
horse team that could carry all his precious lightwood.
He filled the vehicle, and what was left he packed
carefully in his valise.

He stopped his team in front of the Baptist parsonage
to see Mrs. Durham about Allan McLeod.

"Delighted to see you, General Worth. It's refreshing
to look into the faces of our great leaders, if they are
still outlawed as rebels by the Washington government."

"Ah, Madam, I need not say it is refreshing to see
you, the rarest and most beautiful flower of the old
South in the days of her wealth and pride ! And
always the same ! " The General bowed over her hand.

"Yes; I haven't surrendered yet."

"And you never will," he laughed.

"Why should I? They've done their worst. They
have robbed me of all. I've only rags and ashes left."

"Things might still be worse, Madam."

"I can't see it. There is nothing but suffering and
ruin before us. These ignorant negroes are now being
taught by people who hate or misunderstand us. They
can only be a scourge to society. I am heartsick when
I try to think of the future ! "

There was a mist about her eyes that betrayed
the deep emotion with which she uttered the last
sentence.

She was a queenly woman of the brunette type, with
full face of striking beauty surmounted by a mass of
rich chestnut hair. The loss of her slaves and estate in
the war had burned its message of bitterness into her
soul. She had the ways of that imperious aristocracy
of the South that only slavery could nourish. She was

The Man or Brute in Embryo 81

still uncompromising upon every issue that touched
the life of the past.

She believed in slavery as the only possible career for
a negro in America. The war had left her cynical on
the future of the new "Mulatto" nation, as she called
it, born in its agony. Her only child had died during
the war, and this great sorrow had not softened but
rather hardened her nature.

Her husband's career as a preacher was now a double
cross to her because it meant the doom of eternal
poverty. In spite of her love for her husband and her
determination with all her opposite tastes to do her
duty as his wife, she could not get used to poverty.
She hated it in her soul with quiet intensity.

The General was thinking of all this as he tried to
frame a cheerful answer. Somehow he could not think
of anything worth while to say to her. So he changed
the subject.

"Mrs. Durham, I've called to ask your interest in
your Sunday-school in a boy who is a sort of ward of
mine, young Allan McLeod."

"That handsome red-headed fellow, that looks like
a tiger, I've seen playing in the streets?"

"Yes; I want you to tame him."

"Well, I will try for your sake, though he's a little
older than any boy in my class. He must be over
fifteen."

"Just fifteen. I'm deeply interested in him. I am
going to give him a good education. His father was a
drunken Scotchman in my brigade whose loyalty to
me as his chief was so genuine and touching I couldn't
help loving him. He was a man of fine intellect and
some culture. His trouble was drink. He never could
get up in life on that account. I have an idea that he
married his wife while on one of his drunks. She is

82 The Leopard's Spots

from down in Robeson County, and he told me she was
related to the outlaws who have infested that section
for years. This boy looks like his mother, though he
gets that red hair and those laughing eyes from his
father. I want you to take hold of him and civilise
him for me."

"I'll try, General. You know I love boys."

"You will find him rude and boisterous at first, but
I think he's got something in him."

"I'll send for him to come to see me Saturday."

"Thank you, Madam. I must go. My love to
Doctor Durham."

The next Saturday, when Mrs. Durham walked into
ktr little parlour to see Allan, the boy was scared
nearly out of his wits. He sprang to his feet, stam-
mered and blushed, and looked as though he were
going to jump out of the window.

Mrs. Durham looked at him with a smile that quite
disarmed his fears, took his outstretched hand, and held
it trembling in hers.

"I know we will be good friends, won't we?"

"Yessum," he stammered.

"And you won't tie any more tin cans to dogs like
you did to Charlie Gaston's little terrier, will you? I
like boys full of life and spirit, just so they don't do
mean and cruel things."

The boy was ready to promise her anything. He
was charmed with her beauty and gentle ways. He
thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever
seen in the world.

As they started toward the door she gently slipped
one arm around him, put her hand under his chin and
kissed him.

Then he was ready to die for her. It was the first
kiss he had ever received from a woman's lips. His

The Man or Brute in Embryo 83

mother was not a demonstrative woman. He never
recalled a kiss she had given him. His blood tingled
with the delicious sense of this one's sweetness. All
the afternoon he sat out under a tree and dreamed and
watched the house where this wonderful- thing had
happened to him.

CHAPTER XI
SIMON LEGREE

IN the death of Mr. Lincoln a group of radical poli-
ticians, hitherto suppressed, saw their supreme
opportunity to obtain control of the nation in the
crisis of an approaching Presidential campaign.

Now they could fasten their schemes of proscription,
confiscation and revenge upon the South.

Mr. Lincoln had held these wolves at bay during his
life by the power of his great personality. But the
Lion was dead, and the Wolf, who had snarled and
snapped at him in life, put on his skin and claimed the
heritage of his power. The Wolf whispered his message
of hate, and in the hour of partisan passion became
the master of the nation.

Busy feet had been hurrying back and forth from the
Southern states to Washington whispering in the Wolf's
ear the stories of sure success if only the plan of pro-
scription, disfranchisement of whites and enfranchise-
ment of blacks were carried out.

This movement was inaugurated two years after the
war, with every Southern state in profound peace and
in a life and death struggle with nature to prevent
famine. The new revolution destroyed the Union a
second time, paralysed every industry in the South,
and transformed ten peaceful states into roaring hells
of anarchy. We have easily outlived the sorrows of
the war. That was a surgery which healed the body.
But the child has not yet been born whose children's

84

Simon Legree 85

children will live to see the healing of the wounds from
those four years of chaos, when fanatics, blinded by
passion, armed millions of ignorant Negroes and thrust
them into mortal combat with the proud, bleeding,
half-starving Anglo-Saxon race of the South. Such a
deed once done can never be undone. It fixes the
status of these races for a thousand years, if not
for eternity.

The South was now rapidly gathering into two hostile
armies under these influences, with race marks as
uniforms — the Black against the White.

The Negro army was under the command of a trium-
virate— the Carpet-bagger from the North, the native
Scalawag and the Negro Demagogue.

Entirely distinct from either of these was the genuine
Yankee soldier settler in the South after the war, who
came because he loved its genial skies and kindly
people.

Ultimately some of these Northern settlers were
forced into politics by conditions around them, and
they constituted the only conscience and brains visible
in public life during the reign of terror which the
''Reconstruction" regime inaugurated.

In the winter of 1866 the Union League at Hambright
held a meeting of special importance. The attendance
was large and enthusiastic.

Amos Hogg, the defeated candidate for Governor in
the last election, now the President of the Federation of
"Loyal Leagues," had sent a special ambassador to
this meeting to receive reports and give instructions.

This ambassador was none other than the famous
Simon Legree of Red River, who had migrated to North
Carolina, attracted by the first proclamation of the
President, announcing his plan for readmitting the
state to the Union. The rumours of his death proved a

86 The Leopard's Spots

mistake. He had quit drink and set his mind on
greater vices.

In his face were the features of the distinguished
ruffian whose cruelty to his slaves had made him unique
in infamy in the annals of the South. He was now
preeminently the type of the "truly loyal." At the
first rumour of war he had sold his Negroes and migrated
nearer the border land, that he might the better avoid
service in either army. He succeeded in doing this.
The last two years of the war, however, the enlisting
officers pressed him hard, until finally he hit on a
brilliant scheme.

He shaved clean and dressed as a German emigrant
woman. He wore dresses for two years, did house-
work, milked the cows and cut wood for a good-natured
old German. He paid for his board, and passed for a
sister just from the old country.

When the war closed he resumed male attire, became
a violent Union man, and swore that he had been
hounded and persecuted without mercy by the Seces-
sionist rebels.

He was looking more at ease now than ever in his
life. He wore a silk hat and a new suit of clothes made
by a fashionable tailor in Raleigh. He was a little
older looking than when he killed Uncle Tom on his
farm some ten years before, but otherwise unchanged.
He had the same short, muscular body, round bullet
head, light gray eyes and shaggy eyebrows; but his deep
chestnut bristly hair had been trimmed by a barber.
His coarse, thick lips drooped at the corners of his
mouth and emphasised the crook in his nose. His
eyes, well &et apart, as of old, were bold, commanding
and flashed with the cold light of glittering steel. His
teeth, that once were pointed like the fangs of a wolf,
had been filed by a dentist. But it required more than

Simon Legree 87

the file of a dentist to smooth out of that face the
ferocity and cruelty that years of dissolute habits
had fixed.

He was only forty-two years old, but the flabby flesh
under his eyes and his enormous square-cut jaw made
him look fully fifty.

It was a spectacle for gods and men to see him
harangue that Union League in the platitudes of loyalty
to the Union, and to watch the crowd of Negroes hang
breathless on his every word as the inspired Gospel of
God. The only notable change in him from the old
days was in his speech. He had hired a man to teach
him grammar and pronunciation. He had high ambi-
tions for the future.

"Be of good cheer, beloved ! " he said to the Negroes.
"A great day is coming for you. You are to rule this
land. Your old masters are to dig in the fields and you
are to sit under the shade and be gentlemen. Old Andy
Johnson will be kicked out of the White House or hung,
and the farms you've worked on so long will be divided
among you. You can rent them to your old masters
and live in ease the balance of your life."

"Glory to God!" shouted an old Negro.

"I have just been to Washington for our great leader,
Amos Hogg. I've seen Mr. Sumner, Mr. Stevens and
Mr. Butler. I have shown them that we can carry any
state in the South if they will only give you the ballot
and take it away from enough rebels. We have promised
them the votes in the Presidential election, and they
are going to give us what we want."

"Hallelujah! Amen! Yas, Lawd!" The fervent
exclamations came from every part of the room.

After the meeting the Negroes pressed around Legree
and shook his hand with eagerness — the same hand that
was red with the blood of their race.

88 The Leopard's Spots

When the crowd had dispersed a meeting of the
leaders was held.

Dave Haley, the ex-slave trader from Kentucky, who
had dodged back and forth from the mountains of his
native state to the mountains of western North Carolina
and kept out of the armies, was there. He had settled
in Hambright, and hoped at least to get the post-office
under the new dispensation.

In the group was the full-blooded Negro, Tim Shelby.
He had belonged to the Shelbys of Kentucky, but had
escaped through Ohio into Canada before the war. He
had returned home with great expectations of revolu-
tions to follow in the wake of the victorious armies of
the North. He had been disappointed in the pro-
gramme of kindliness and mercy that immediately
followed the fall of the Confeder;.:.", but he had been
busy day and night since the war in organising the
Negroes, in secretly furnishing them arms, and wherever
possible he had them grouped in military posts and
regularly drilled. He was elated at the brilliant pros-
pects which Legree's report from Washington opened.

u Glorious news you bring us, brother ! " he exclaimed,
as he slapped Legree on the back.

"Yes, and it's straight."

"Did Mr. Stevens tell you so?"

"He's the man that told me."

"Well, you can tie to him. He's the master now
that rules the country," said Tim, with enthusiasm.

"You bet he's runnin' it. He showed me his bill to
confiscate the property of the rebels and give it to the
truly loyal and the niggers. It's a hummer. You
ought to have seen the old man's eyes flash fire when he
pulled that bill out of his desk and read it to me."

"When will he pass it?"

"Two years, yet. He told me the fools up North

Simon Legree 89

were not quite ready for it, and that he had two other
bills first that would run the South crazy and so fire
the North that he could pass anything he wanted and
hang old Andy Johnson besides."

"Praise God!" shouted Tim, as he threw his arms
around Legree and hugged him.

Tim kept his kinky hair cut close, and when excited
he had a way of wrinkling his scalp so as to lift his
ears up and down like a mule. His lips were big and
thick, and he combed assiduously a tiny mustache
which he tried in vain to pull out in straight Napoleonic
style.

He worked his scalp and ears vigorously as he
exclaimed, "Tell us the whole plan, brother."

"The plan's simple," said Legree. "Mr. Stevens is
going to give the nigger the ballot and take it from
enough white men to give the niggers a majority. Then
he will kick old Andy Johnson out of the White House,
put the gag on the Supreme Court so the South can't
appeal, pass his bill to confiscate the property of the
rebels and give it to loyal men and the niggers, and run
the rebels out."

"And the beauty of the plan is," said Tim, with
unction, "that they are going to allow the Negro to vote
to give himself the ballot and not allow the white man
to vote against it. That's what I call a dead sure thing."
Tim drew himself up, a sardonic grin revealing his white
teeth from ear to ear, and burst into an impassioned
harangue to the excited group. He was endowed with
native eloquence, and had graduated from a college
in Canada under the private tutorship of its professors.
He was well versed in English history. He could
hold an audience of Negroes spellbound, and his
audacity commanded the attention of the boldest white
man who heard him.

90 The Leopard's Spots

Legree, Perkins and Haley cheered his wild utterances
and urged him to greater flights.

He paused as though about to stop, when Legree,
evidently surprised and delighted at his powers, said.
"Go on! Go on!"

"Yes, go on!" shouted Perkins. "We are done
with race and colour lines."

A dreamy look came to Tim's eyes as he continued:

"Our proud white aristocrats of the South are in a
panic, it seems. They feel the coming power of the
Negro. They fear their Desdemonas may be fascinated
again by an Othello ! Well, Othello's day has come
at last. If he has dreamed dreams in the past, his
tongue dared not speak; the day is fast coming when
he will put these dreams into deeds, not words.

"The South has not paid the penalties of her crimes.
The work of the conqueror has not yet been done in
this land. Our work now is to bring the proud low
and exalt the lowly. This is the first duty of the
conqueror.

"The French Revolutionists established a tannery
where they tanned the hides of dead aristocrats into
leather with which they shod the common people.
This was France in the eighteenth century with a
thousand years of Christian culture.

"When the English army conquered Scotland they
hunted and killed every fugitive to a man, tore from
the homes of their fallen foes their wives, stripped
them naked, and made them follow the army, begging
bread, the laughing stock and sport of every soldier
and camp follower ! This was England in the meridian
of Anglo-Saxon intellectual glory, the England of
Shakspere who was writing Othello to please the war-
like populace.

"I say to my people now in the language of the

Simon Legree 91

inspired Word, 'All things are j'ours.' I have been
drilling and teaching them through the Union League,
the young and the old. I have told the old men that
they will be just as useful as the young. If they can't
carry a musket, they can apply the torch when the
time comes. And they are ready now to answer the
call of the Lord. '

Thev crowded around Tim and wrung his hand.

m • • • • •

Early in 867, two years after the war, Thaddeus
Stevens passed through Congress his famous bill destroy-
ing the governments of the Southern states and dividing
them into military districts, enfranchising the whole
Negro race and disfranchising one-fourth of the whites.
The army was sent back to the South to enforce these
decrees at the point of the bayonet. The authority
of the Supreme Court was destroyed by a supplementary
act and the South denied the right of appeal. Mr.
Stevens then introduced his bill to confiscate the
property of the white people of the South. The Negroes
laid down their hoes and ploughs and began to gather
in excited meetings. Crimes of violence increased
daily. Not a night passed but that a burning barn or
home wrote its message of anarchy on the black sky.

The Negroes refused to sign any contracts to work,
to pay rents, or vacate their houses on notice even
from the Freedman's Bureau.

The Negroes on General Worth's plantation not
only refused to work, or move, but organised to prevent
any white man from putting his foot on the land.

General Worth procured a special order from the
headquarters of the Freedman's Bureau for the district
located at Independence. When the officer appeared
and attempted to serve this notice the Negroes
mobbed him.

92 The Leopard's Spots

A company of troops were ordered to Hambright,
and the notice served again by the Bureau official
accompanied by the captain of this company.

The Negroes asked for time to hold a meeting and
discuss the question. They held their meeting and
gathered fully five hundred men from the neighbour-
hood, all armed with revolvers or muskets. They asked
Legree and Tim Shelby to tell them what they should
do. There was no uncertain sound in what Legree
said. He looked over the crowd of eager faces with
pride and conscious power.

"Gentlemen, your duty is plain. Hold your land.
It's yours. You've worked it for a lifetime. These
officers here tell you that old Andy Johnson has pardoned
General Worth and that you have no rights on the land
without his contract. I tell you old Andy Johnson has
no right to pardon a rebel, and that he will be hung
before another year. Thaddeus Stevens, Charles
Sumner and B. F. Butler are running this country.
Mr. Stevens has never failed yet on anything he has
set his hand. He has promised to give you the land.
Stick to it. Shake your fist in old Andy Johnson's
face and the face of this Bureau and tell them so."

"Dat we will!" shouted a Negro woman, as Tim
Shelby rose to speak.

"You have suffered," said Tim. "Now let the
white man surfer. Times have changed. In the old
days the white man said, 'John, come black my
boots.' And the poor Negro had to black his boots.
I expect to see the day when I will say to a white man,
'Black my boots.' And the white man will tip his
hat and hurry to do what I tell him."

"Yes, Lawd ! Glory to God ! Hear dat, now !"

"We will drive the white man out of this country.
That is the purpose of our friends > t Washington. If

Simon Legree 93

white men want to live in the South they can become
our servants. If they don't like their job they can
move to a more congenial climate. You have Congress
on your side, backed by a million bayonets. There
is no President. The Supreme Court is chained. In
San Domingo no white man is allowed to vote, hold
office or hold a foot of land. We will make this mighty
South a more glorious San Domingo."

A frenzied shout rent the air. Tim and Legree
were carried on the shoulders of stalwart men in
triumphant procession, with five hundred crazy Negroes
yelling and screaming at their heels.

The officers made their escape in the confusion and
beat a hasty retreat to town. They reported the
situation to headquarters and asked for instructions.

CHAPTER XII
RED SNOWDROPS

THE spirit of anarchy was in the tainted air.
The bonds that held society were loosened.
Government threatened to become organised
crime instead of the organised virtue of the community.

The report of crimes of unusual horror among
the ignorant and the vicious began now to startle
the world.

The Reverend John Durham, on his rounds among the
poor, discovered a little Negro boy whom the parents
had abandoned to starve. His father had become a
drunken loafer at Independence, and the Freedman's
Bureau delivered the child to his mother and her sister,
who lived in a cabin about two miles from Hambright,
and ordered them to care for the boy.

A few days later the child had disappeared. A
search was instituted, and the charred bones were
found in an old ash-heap in the woods near this cabin.
The mother had knocked him in the head and burned
the bony, in a drunken orgie with dissolute companions.

The sense of impending disaster crushed the hearts
of thoughtful and serious people. One of the last
acts of Governor Macon, whose office was now under
the control of the military commandant at Charleston,
South Carolina, was to issue a proclamation appoint-
ing a day of fasting and prayer to God for deliverance
from the ruin that threatened the state under the
dominion of Legree and the Negroes.

94

Red Snowdrops 95

It was a memorable day in the history of the people.
In many of the places they met in the churches the
night before and held all-night watches and prayer
meetings. They felt that a pestilence worse than the
Black Death of the Middle Ages threatened to extin-
guish civilisation.

The Baptist church at Hambright was crowded
to the doors with white-faced women and sorrowful
men.

About ten o'clock in the morning, pale and haggard
from a sleepless night of prayer and thought, the
Preacher arose to address the people. The hush of death
fell as he gazed silently over the audience for a moment.
How pale his face ! They had never seen him so moved
with passions that stirred his inmost soul. His first
words were addressed to God. He did not seem to see
the people before him.

"Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all
generations.

"Before the mountains were brought forth or ever
thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from
everlasting to everlasting, thou art God ! "

The people instinctively bowed their heads, fired by
the subtle quality of intense emotion the tones of his
voice communicated, and many of the people were
already in tears.

"Thou turnest man to destruction: and sayest
return, ye children of men.

"Who knowest the power of thine anger?

"Return, O Lord, how long? and let it repent thee
concerning thy servants.

"Beloved," he continued, "it was permitted unto
your fathers and brothers and children to die for their
country. You must live for her in the black hour of
despair. There will be no roar of guns, no long lines

96 The Leopard's Spots

of gleaming bayonets, no flash of pageantry or martial
music to stir your souls.

"You are called to go down, man by man, alone,
naked and unarmed in the blackness of night, and
fight with the powers of hell for your civilisation.

"You must look this question squarely in the face.
You are to be put to the supreme test. You are to
stand at the judgment bar of the ages and make good
your right to life. The attempt is to be deliberately
made to blot out Anglo-Saxon society and substitute
African barbarism.

"A few year ago a Southern Representative in a
stupid rage knocked Charles Sumner down with a cane
and cracked his skull. Now it is this poor cracked brain,
mad with hate and revenge, that is attempting to blot
the Southern states from the map of the world and
build Negro territories on their ruins. In the madness
of party passions, for the first time in history, an
anarchist, Thaddeus Stevens, has obtained the dicta-
torship of a great Constitutional Government, hauled
down its flag and nailed the Black Flag of Confiscation
and Revenge to its masthead.

"The excuse given for this, that the lawmakers of
the South attempted to reinslave the Negro by their
enactments against vagrants and provisions for appren-
ticeship, is so weak a lie it will not deserve the notice
of a future historian. Every law passed on these
subjects since the abolition of slavery was simply copied
from the codes of the Northern states where free
labour was the basis of society.

"Lincoln alone, with his great human heart and
broad statesmanship, could have saved us. But the
South had no luck. Again and again in the war
victory was within her grasp and an unseen hand
snatched it away. In the hour of her defeat the bullet

Red Snowdrops 97

of a madman strikes down the great President, her
last refuge in ruin.

"God alone is our help. Let us hold fast to our
faith in Him. We can only cry with aching hearts
in the language of the Psalmist of old, 'How long,
O Lord ? How long ? '

"The voices of three men now fill the world with
their bluster — Charles Sumner, a crack-brained theorist ;
Thaddeus Stevens, a club-footed misanthrope; and
B. F. Butler, a triumvirate of physical and mental
deformity. Yet they are but the cracked reeds of
a great organ that peals forth the discord of a nation's
blind rage. When the storm is past, and reason rules
passion, they will be flung into oblivion. We must
bend to the storm. It is God's will."

The people left the church with heavy hearts. They
were hopelessly depressed. In the afternoon, as the
churches were being slowly emptied, groups of Negroes
stood on the corners talking loudly and discussing
the m3aning of this new Sunday so strangely observed.
It began to snow. It was late in March, and this was
an unusual phenomenon in the South.

The next morning the earth was covered with four
inches of snow that glistened in the sun with a strange
reddish hue. On examination it was found that every
snowdrop had in it a tiny red spot that looked like a
drop of blood ! Nothing of this kind had ever been
seen before in the history of the world, so far as any
one knew.

This freak of Nature seemed a harbinger of sure and
terrible calamity. Even the most cultured and thought-
ful could not shake off the impression it made.

The Preacher did his best to cheer the people in his
daily intercourse with them. His Sunday sermons
seemed in these darkest days unusually tender and.

98 The Leopard's Spots

hopeful. It was a marvel to those who heard his bitter
and sorrowful speech on the day of fasting and prayer
that he could preach such sermons as those which
followed.

Occasionally old Uncle Joshua Miller would ask him
to preach for the Negroes in their new church on Sunday
afternoons. He always went, hoping to keep some
sort of helpful influence over them in spite of their new
leaders and teachers. It was strange to watch this man
shake hands with these Negroes, call them familiarly by
their names, ask kindly after their families, and yet carry
in his heart the presage of a coming irreconcilable
conflict. For no one knew more clearly than he that
the issues were being joined from the deadly grip of that
conflict of races that would determine whether this
Republic would be Mulatto or Anglo-Saxon. Yet at
heart he had only the kindliest feelings for these familiar
dusky faces now rising a black storm above the horizon,
threatening the existence of civilised society, under
the leadership of Simon Legree and Mr. Stevens.

It seemed a joke sometimes as he thought of it, a
huge, preposterous joke, this actual attempt to reverse
the order of Nature, turn society upside down, and make
a thick-lipped, flat-nosed negro, but yesterday taken
from the jungle, the ruler of the proudest and strongest
race of men evolved in two thousand years of history.
Yet when he remembered the fierce passions in the
hearts of the demagogues who were experimenting
with this social dynamite it was a joke that took on a
hellish, sinister meaning.

CHAPTER XIII
DICK

WHEN Charlie Gaston reached his home after a
never-to-be-forgotten day in the woods with
the Preacher, he found a ragged little dirt-
smeared Negro boy peeping through the fence into the
woodyard.

"What you want?" cried Charlie.

"NuttinV

"What's your name?"

"Dick."

"Who's your father?"

"Hain't got none. My mudder say she was tricked
en I'se de trick," he chuckled, and walled his eyes.

Charlie came close and looked him over. Dick
giggled and showed the whites of his eyes.

"What made that streak on your neck?"

"Nigger done it wid er ax."

"What nigger?"

"Low life nigger name er Amos what stays roun' our
house Sundays."

"What made him do it?"

"He 'low he wuz me daddy en I sez he wuz er liar,
en den he grab de ax en try ter chop me head off."

"Gracious, he 'most killed you!"

"Yassir, but de doctor sewed me head back, en hit
grow'd."

"Goodness me!"

11 Say ! " grinned Dick.

99

ioo The Leopard's Spots

"What?"

"I likes you."

"Do you?"

"Yassir, en I ain't gwine home no mo'. I done run
away, en I wants ter live wid you."

"Will you help me and Nelse work?"

" Dat I will. I can do mos' anyt'ing. You ax yer Ma
fur me, en doan' let dat nigger Nelse git holt er me."

Charlie's heart went out to the ragged little waif. He
took him by the hand, led him into the yard, found
his mother, and begged her to give him a place to sleep
and keep him.

His mother tried to persuade him to make Dick go
back to his home. Nelse was loud in his objections to
the newcomer, and Aunt Eve looked at him as though
she would throw him over the fence.

But Dick stuck doggedly to Charlie's heels.

"Mamma, dear, see, they tried to cut his head
off with an ax," cried the boy, and he wheeled
Dick around and showed the terrible scar across
the back of his neck.

"I spec hit's er pity dey didn't cut hit clean off,"
muttered Nelse.

"Mamma, you can't ssend him back to be killed!"

"Well, darling, I'll see about it to-morrow."

"Come on, Dick, I'll show you where to sleep."

The next day Dick's mother was glad to get rid of
him by binding him legally to Mrs. Gaston, and a lonely
boy found a playmate and partner in work he was
never to forget.

CHAPTER XIV
THE NEGRO UPRISING

THE summer of 1867 ! Will ever a Southern man
or woman who saw it forget its scenes? A
group of oath-bound secret societies, The Union
League, The Heroes of America and The Red Strings
dominating society, and marauding bands of Negroes
armed to the teeth terrorising the country, stealing,
burning and murdering.

Labour was not only demoralised — it had ceased to
exist. Depression was universal, farming paralysed,
investments dead, and all property insecure. Moral
obligations were dropping away from conduct, and a
gulf as deep as hell and high as heaven opening between
the two races.

The Negro preachers openly instructed their flocks to
take what they needed from their white neighbours.
If any man dared prosecute a thief the answer was a
burned barn or a home in ashes.

The wildest passions held riot at Washington. The
Congress of the United States, as a deliberative body
under constitutional forms of government, no longer
existed. The Speaker of the House shook his fist at the
President and threatened openly to hang him, and he
was arraigned for impeachment for daring to exercise
the constitutional functions of his office.

The division agents of the Freedman's Bureau in the
South sent to Washington the most alarming reports,
declaring a famine imminent. In reply the vindictive

101

102 The Leopard's Spots

leaders levied a tax of fifteen dollars a bale on cotton,
plunging thousands of Southern farmers into immediate
bankruptcy and giving to India and Egypt the mastery
of the cotton markets of the world.

Congress became to the desolate South what Attila,
the "Scourge of God," was to civilised Europe.

The abolitionists of the North, whose conscience was
the fire that kindled the Civil War, rose in solemn
protest against this insanity. Their protest was drowned
in the roar of multitudes maddened by demagogues
who were preparing for a political campaign.

Late in August, Hambright and Campbell County
were thrilled with horror at the report of a terrible
crime. A whole white family had been murdered in
their home, the father, mother and three children in
one night, and no clue to the murderers could be
found.

Two days later the rumour spread over the country
that a horde of Negroes heavily armed were approaching
Hambright, burning, pillaging and murdering.

All day terrified women, some walking with babes in
their arms, some riding in old wagons and carrying what
household goods they could load on them, were hurrying
with blanched faces into the town.

By night five hundred determined white men had
answered an alarm bell and assembled in the court-
house. Every Negro save a few faithful servants had
disappeared. A strange stillness fell over the village.

Mrs. Gaston sat in her house without a light, looking
anxiously out of the window, overwhelmed with the
sense of helplessness. Charlie, frightened by the wild
stories he had heard, was trying in spite of his fears to
comfort her.

"Don't cry, Mamma!"

"I'm not crying because I'm afraid, darling; I'm only

The Negro Uprising 103

crying because your father is not here to-night. I can't
get used to living without him to protect us."

"I'll take care of you, Mamma — Nelse and me."

"Where is Nelse?"

"He's cleaning up the shotgun."

"Tell him to come here."

When Nelse approached, his Mistress asked:

"Nelse, do you really think this tale is true?"

"No, Missy, I doan' believe nary word uf it. Same
time I'se gettin' ready fur 'em. Ef er nigger come
foolin' roun' dis house ter-night he'll run ergin er
whole regiment. I hain't been ter wah fur nuttin'."

"Nelse, you have always been faithful. I trust you
implicitly."

"De Lawd, Missy, dat you kin do. I fight fur you
en dat boy till I drap dead in my tracks."

"I believe you would."

"Yessum, cose I would. En I wants dat swode er
Marse Charles to-night, Missy, en Charlie ter help me
sharpen 'im on de grinestone."

She took the sword from its place and handed it to
Nelse. Was there just a shade of doubt in her heart as
she saw his black hand close over its hilt as he drew
it from the scabbard and felt its edge ? If so she
gave no sign.

Charlie turned the grindstone while Nelse proceeded
to violate the laws of nations by putting a keen edge
on the blade.

"Nebber seed no sense in dese dull swodes
nohow."

"Why ain't they sharp, Nelse?"

"Doan' know, honey. Marse Charle tell me de law
doan low it, but dey sho' hain't no law now."

"We'll sharpen it, won't we, Nelse?" whispered the
boy, as he turned faster.

104 The Leopard's Spots

11 Dat us will, honey. En den you des watch me mow
niggers ef dey come er prowlin' round dis house."

"Did you kill many Yankees in the war, Nelse?"

"Doan' know, honey; 'spec I did."

"Are you going to take the gun or the sword?"

" Bofe um 'em, chile. Fse gwine ter shoot er pair
er niggers fust, en den charge de whole gang wid dis
swode. Hain't nuttin' er nigger's 'feard uf lak er keen
edge. Wish ter God I had a razer long es dis swode.
I'd des walk clean froo er whole army er niggers wid
guns. Man, hit 'ud des natchelly be er sight ! Day'd
slam dem guns down en bust demselves open gittin'
outen my way."

When the sun rose next morning the bodies of ten
Negroes lay dead and wounded in the road about a mile
outside of town. The pickets thrown out in every
direction had discovered their approach about eleven
o'clock. They were allowed to advance within a mile.
There were not more than two hundred in the gang,
dozens of them were drunk, and, like the Sepoys of
India, they were under the command of a white
scalawag. At the first volley they broke and fled in
wild disorder. Their leader managed to escape.

This event cleared the atmosphere for a few weeks;
and the people breathed more freely when another
company of army regulars marched into the town and
camped in the school grounds of the old academy.

CHAPTER XV
THE NEW CITIZEN KING

OF all the elections ever conducted by the
English-speaking race, the one held under
the "Reconstruction" act of 1867 in the
South was the most unique.

Ezra Perkins, the Agent of the Freedman's Bureau,
issued a windy proclamation to the new citizens to come
forward on a certain day to register and receive their
"elective franchise."

The Negroes poured into town from every direction
from early dawn. Some carried baskets, some carried
jugs, and some were pushing wheelbarrows, but most of
them had an empty bag. They were packed around
the Agency in a solid black mass.

Nelse laughed until a crowd gathered around him.

"Lordy, look at dem bags !" he shouted. "En dar's
ole Ike wid er jug. He's gwine ter take hisen in licker.
En bress God, dar's er fool wid er wheelbarer !" Nelse
lay down and rolled with laughter.

They failed to see the joke, and when the Agency
was opened they made a break for the door, trampling
each other down in a mad fear that there wouldn't be
enough "elective franchise" to go round.

The first Negro who emerged from the door came
with a crestfallen face and an empty bag on his arm.

He was surrounded by anxious inquirers.

"What wuz hit?"
Nuffin'. Des stan' up dar befo' er man wid big

io5

<<

106 The Leopard's Spots

whiskers en he make me swar ter export de Constertu-
tion er de Nunited States er Nor'f Calliny."

When Nelse appeared Perkins looked at him a moment
and asked:

"Are you a member of the Union Leaguer"

"Dat I hain't."

"Then stand aside and let these men register. If }^ou
want to vote you had better join."

Nelse made no reply, but in a short time he returned
with the Reverend John Durham by his side. He was
allowed to register, but from that day he was a marked
man among his race.

When the registration closed Perkins was in high glee.

"We've got 'em, Timothy. It's a dead sure thing!"
he cried, as he slipped his arm around Tim's shoulder.

"Will vhe majority be big?" asked Tim.

"If it ain't big enough we'll disfranchise more aristo-
crats and enfranchise the dogs." Tim wondered
whether this proposition was altogether nattering.

During the progress of the campaign, a committee
from the organisation of the "truly loyal," Ezra Perkins
and Dave Haley, called on Tom Camp.

"Mr. Camp, we want your help as a leader among the
poor white people to save the country from these rebel
aristocrats who have ruined it," said Ezra.

"You're barkin' up the wrong tree !" answered Tom,
dryly.

"The poor men have got to stand together now and
get their rights."

"Well, if I've got to stand with niggers, have 'em
hug me and blow their breath in my face, as you fellers
are doin', you can count me out; and if that's all you
want with me, you'll find the door open."

Haley tried his hand.

"Look here, Camp, we ain't got no hard feelin's agin

The New Citizen King 107

you, but there's a-goin' to be trouble for every rebel in
this county who don't git on our side and do it quick." \

"I'm used to trouble, pardner," replied Tom.

"You've got a nice little cabin home and ten acres of
land. Fight us, and we will give this house and lot to
a nigger."

"I don't believe it,' cried Tom.

"Come, come," said Perkins, "you're not fool enough
to fight us when we've got a dead sure thing, a majority
fixed before the voting begins, Congress and the whole
army back of us?"

"I ain't er nigger," said Tom, doggedly.

"What's the use to be a fool, Camp," cried Haley.
"We are just using the nigger to stick the votes in the
box. He thinks he's goin' to heaven, but we'll iide him
all the way up to the gate and hitch him on the outside.
Wili you come in with us?"

"Don't like your complexion," he answered, rising
and going toward the door.

"Then we'll turn you out into the road in less than
two years," said Haley as they left.

"All right !" laughed the old soldier. "I slept on the
ground four years, boys."

When he came back into the room he met his wife
with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Tom, I'm afraid they'll
do what they say ! "

"To tell you the truth, ole woman, I'm afraid so, too.
But we're in the hands of the Lord. This is His house.
If He wants to take it away from me now, when I'm
crippled and helpless, He knows what's best."

"I wish you didn't have to go agin 'em."

"I ain't er nigger, ole gal, and I don't flock with
niggers. If God Almighty had meant me to be one
He'd have made my skin black."

On election day no publication of the polling places

io8 The Leopard's Spots

had been made. Ezra Perkins had in charge the whole
county. He consolidated the fifteen voting precincts
into three and located these in Negro districts. He
notified only the members of the secret Leagues where
these three voting places were to be found, and other
people were allowed to find then on the day of the
election as best they could.

Perkins made himself the poll-holder at Hambright,
though he was a candidate for member of the Constitu-
tional Convention, and the poll-holders were allowed
to keep the ballots in their possession for three days
before forwarding to the general in command at
Charleston, South Carolina.

Scores of Negroes, under the instructions of their
leaders, voted three times that day. Every Negro boy
fairly well grown was allowed to vote and no questions
asked as to his age.

Nelse approached the polls, attempting to cast a vote
against the Reverend Ezra Perkins, the poll-holder.
A crowd of infuriated negroes surrounded him in a
moment.

"Kill 'im ! Knock 'im in the head ! De black debbil,
votin' agin his colour!"

Nelse threw his big fists right and left and soon had
an open space in the edge of which lay a half-dozen
Negroes scrambling to get to their feet.

The Negroes formed a line in front of him and the
foremost one said:

"You try ter put dat vote in de box we bust yo'
head open !"

Nelse knocked him down before he got the words
well out of his mouth. "Honey, I'se er bad nigger!"
he shouted with a grin, as he stepped back and started
to rush the line.

Perkins ordered the guard to arrest him.

The New Citizen King 109

As the guard carried Nelse away a crowd of angry
Negroes followed, grinning and cursing.

"We lay fur you yit, ole hoss!" was their parting
word as he disappeared through the jail door.

That night at the supper table in the hotel at Ham-
bright an informal census of the voters was taken.
There were present at the table a distinguished ex-judge,
two lawyers, a general, two clergymen, a merchant, a
farmer and two mechanics. The only man of all
allowed to vote that day was the Negro who waited
on the table.

Thus began the era of a corrupt and degraded ballot in
the South that was to bring forth sorrow for generations
yet unborn. The intelligence, culture, wealth, social
prestige, brains, conscience and the historic institutions
of a great state had been thrust under the hoof of
ignorance and vice.

The votes were sent to the military commandant at
Charleston and the results announced. The Negroes
had elected one hundred and ten representatives and
the whites ten. It was gravely announced from
Washington that a "republican form of government M
had at last been established in North Carolina.

CHAPTER XVI
LEGREE SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE

THE new government was now in full swing and
a saturnalia began. Amos Hogg was Governor,
Simon Legree Speaker of the House, and the
Honourable Tim Shelby leader of the majority on the
floor of the House.

Raleigh, the quaint little City of Oaks, never saw
such an assemblage of lawmakers gathered in the
gray stone Capitol.

Ezra Perkins, who was a member of the Senate, was
frugal in his habits, and found lodgings at an unpre-
tentious boarding-house near the Capitol square.

The room was furnished with six iron cots on which
were placed straw mattresses, and six honourable mem-
bers of the new Legislature occupied these. They were
close enough together to allow a bottle of whisky to
be freely passed from member to member at any hour
of the night. They thought the beds were arranged
with this in view and were much pleased.

Ezra was the only man in the crowd who arrived in
Raleigh with a valise or trunk. He had a carpet-bag.
The others simply had one shirt and a few odds and
ends tied in red bandanna handkerchiefs.

Three of them had walked all the way to Raleigh
and kept in the woods from habit as deserters. The
other two rode on the train and handed their tickets
to the first stranger they saw on the platform of the
car they boarded.

no

Legree Speaker of the House in

4 'What's this for?" said the stranger.

"Them's our tickets. Ain't you the doorkeeper?"

"No; but there ought to be one to every circus.
You'll have one when you get to Raleigh."

The landlady, Mrs. Duke, apologised for the poor
beds when she showed them to their room. "I'm sorry,
gentlemen, I can't give you softer beds."

"That's all right, Ma'am; them's fine. Us fellows
been sleeping in the woods and in straw stacks so long
dodgin' ole Vance's officers, them white sheets is the
finest thing we've seed in four years er more."

They were humble and made no complaints. But at
the end of the week they gathered around the Rev-
erend Ezra Perkins for a grave consultation.

"When are we goin' ter draw?" said one.

"Air we ever goin' ter draw?" asked another, with
sorrow and dcubt.

"What are we here for if we cain't draw? " pleaded
another, looking sadly at Ezra.

"Gentlemen," answered Ezra, "it will be all right
in a little while. The Treasurer is just cranky. We
can draw our mileage Monday, anyhow."

At daylight they took their places on the bank's
steps, and at ten o'clock when the bank opened the
doors were besieged by a mob of members painfully
anxious to draw before it might be too late.

Next morning r,here was a disturbance at the break-
fast table. The morning paper had in blazing headlines
an account of one James "Mileage, " who was a member
of the Legislature from an adjoining county thirty-
seven miles distant. He had sworn to a mileage record
of one hundred and seven dollars.

"That's an unfortunate mistake, sir," said Perkins.

"Ten' ter yer own business," answered James
"Mileage."

ii2 The Leopard's Spots

"I call it er purty sharp trick," broadly grinned
his partner.

"I call it stealin'," sneered an honourable member,
evidently envious.

And James "Mileage" was his name for all time, but
"Mileage" shot a malicious look at the member who
had called him a thief.

The next morning the paper of the opposition had
another biographical sketch on the front page.

"I see your name in the paper this morning, Mr.
Scoggins?" remarked Mrs. Duke, looking pleasantly
at the member who had spoken so rudely to James
"Mileage" the day before.

"Well, I reckon I'll make my mark down here before
it's over," chuckled Scoggins, with pride. "What do
they say about me, Ma'am?"

"They say you stole a lot of hogs!" tittered tha
landlady.

Mr. Scoggins turned red.

1 ' O-ho, is there another thief in this hon'able
body?" sneered James "Mileage."

"That's all a lie, Ma'am, 'bout them hogs. I didn't
steal 'em. I just pressed 'em from a Secessiner."

"Jes' so," said James "Mileage"; "but they say you
were a deserter at the time, and not exactly in the
service of your country."

"Ye can't pay no 'tention ter rebel lies ergin Union
men," explained Scoggins, eating faster.

"Yes, that's so," said James "Mileage"; "but there's
another funny thing in the paper about you."

"What's that? " cried Scoggins, with new alarm.

"That Mr. Scoggins met Sherman's army with loud
talk about lovin' the Union, but that a mean Yankee
officer gave him a cussin' fur not fightin' on one side or
the other, took all that bacon he had stolen, hung him

Legree" Speaker of the House 113

up by the heels, gave him thirty lashes, and left him
hanging in the air."

"It's a lie! It's a lie!" bellowed Scoggins.

1 ' Gentlemen ! Gentlemen ! We must not have such
behaviour at my table ! " exclaimed Mrs. Duke.

And "Hog" Scoggins was his name from that day.

By the end of the week another painful story was
printed about one of this group of statesmen. The
newspaper brutally declared that he had been convicted
of stealing a rawhide from a neighbour's tanyard.
It could not be denied. And then a sad thing happened.
The moral sentiment of the little community could
not endure the strain. It suddenly collapsed. They
laughed at these incidents of the sad past and agreed
that they were jokes. They began to call each other
James "Mileage," "Hog" Scoggins and "Rawhide"
in the friendliest way, and dared a scornful world to
make them feel ashamed of anything.

But the Reverend Ezra Perkins was pained by this
breakdown. He felt that, being safely removed two
thousand miles from his own past, he might hope for
a future.

"Mrs. Duke," he complained to his landlady, "I will
have to aj.i you to give me a room to myself. I'll pay
double. I want quiet, where I can read my Bible and
meditate occasionally."

"Certainly, Mr. Perkins, if you are willing to pay
for it."

It was so arranged. But this assumption of moral
superiority by Perkins grieved "Mileage," "Hog"
and "Rawhide," and a coolness sprang up between
them, until they found Ezra one night in his place of
meditation dead drunk and his room on fire. He had
gone to sleep in his chair with his empty bottle by his
side and knocked the candle over on the bed. Then

ii4 The Leopard's Spots

they agreed that forever after they would all stand
together, shoulder to shoulder, until they brought the
haughty low and exalted the lowly and the "loyal."

Tim Shelby early distinguished himself in this august
assemblage. His wit and eloquence from the first
commanded the admiration of his party.

When he had fairly established himself as leader, he
rose in his seat one day with unusual gravity. His
scalp was working his ears with great rapidity, showing
his excitement.

He had in his hands a bill on which he had spent
months in secret study. He had not even hinted its
contents to any of his associates. Under the call for
bills his voice rang with deep emphasis.

"Mr. Speaker!"

Legree gave him instant recognition.

"I desire to introduce the following: 'A Bill to be
Entitled An Act to Relieve Married Women from the
Bonds of Matrimony when United to Felons, and to
Define Felony.' "

A page hurried to the Reading Clerk with his bill.

The hum of voices ceased. The five or six represent-
atives of the white race left their desks and walked
toward the Speaker. The Clerk read in a clecr voice:

"The General Assembly of North Carolina do enact:

" I. That all citizens of the State who took part in
the Rebellion and fought against the Union, or held
office in the so-called Confederate States of America,
shall be held guilty of felony, and shall be forever
debarred from voting or holding office.

"II, That the married relations of all such felons are
hereby dissolved and their wives absolutely divorced,
and said felons shall be forever barred from con-
tracting marriage or living under the same roof with
their former wives."

Legree Speaker of the House 115

Instantly four Carpet-bagger members of some
education rushed for Tim's seat. "Withdraw that
bill, man, quick ! My God, are you mad!" they all
cried in a breath.

Tim was dazed by this unexpected turn and grinned
in an obstinate way.

"I can't see it, gentlemen. That bill will kill out the
breed of rebels and fix the status of every Southern
state for five hundred years. It's just what we need to
make this state loyal."

"You pass that bill and hell will break loose!"

"How so, brother? Ain't we on top and the rebels
on the bottom? Ain't the army here to protect us? "
persisted Tim.

There was a brief consultation among the little
group in opposition, and the leader said:

"Mr. Speaker, I move that the bill be at once printed
and laid on the desk of the members for consid-
eration."

Tim was astonished at this move of his enemy.
Legree looked at him and waited his pleasure.

"Mr. Speaker, I withdraw that bill for the present,"
he said at length.

That night the wires were hot between Washington
and Raleigh and the entire power of Congress was
hurled upon the unhappy Tim. His bill was not only
suppressed, but the news agencies were threatened and
subsidised to prevent accounts of its introduction
being circulated throughout the country.

Tim decided to lay this measure over until Congress
was off his hands and the state's autonomy fully
recognised. Then he would dare interference. In the
meantime, he turned his great mind to financial
matters. His success here was overwhelming.

His first measure was to increase the per diem of the

n6 The Leopard's Spots

members from three to seven dollars a day. It passed
with a whoop.

Uncle Pete Sawyer, a coal-black, fatherly looking old
darky from an eastern county, made himself immortal
in that debate.

"Mistah Speakah!" he bawled, drawing himself up
with great dignity and holding a pen in his left hand
as though he had been writing. "What do these white
gem'men mean by ezposen' this bill ? Ef we doan* pay
de members enuf, dey des be erbleeged ter steal. Hit
ain't right, sah, ter fo'ce de members er dis hon'able
body ter prowl atter dark when day otter be here
'tendin' ter de business o' de country. En I moves
you, sah, Mist ah Speakah, dat dese rema'ks er mine be
filed in de ar kibes er grabity ! "

They were filed and embalmed in the archives of
gravity, where they will remain a monument to their
author and his times.

As Tim's great financial measures made progress, the
members began to wear better clothes, assumed white
linen shirts, had their shoes blacked, and put on the airs
of overworked statesmen.

When they had used up all the funds of the state in
mileage and per diem, they sold and divided the school
fund, railroad bonds worth half a million, for a hundred
thousand ready cash. It was soon found that Simon
Legree, the Speaker of the House, was the master of
financial measures and Tim Shelby was his mouthpiece.

Legree organised three groups of thieves, composed
of the officials needed to perfect the thefts in every
branch of the government, while he retained the leader-
ship of the federated groups. The Treasurer, who was
an honest man, was stripped of power by a special act.

The Capitol Ring merely picked up the odds and
ends about the Capitol building. They refurnished the

Legree Speaker ol the House 117

Legislative Halls. They spent more than two hundred
thousand dollars for furniture, and when it was
appraised its value was found to be seventeen thousand
dollars at the prices they actually paid for it. The Ring
stole one hundred and seventy thousand dollars on
this item alone.

An appropriation of three hundred thousand dollars
was made for "supplies, sundries and incidentals."
With this they built a booth around the statue of
Washington at the end of the Capitol and established
a bar with fine liquors and cigars for the free use of the
members and their friends. They kept it open every
day and night during their reign, and in a suite of
rooms in the Capitol they established a brothel. From
the galleries a swarm of courtesans daily smiled on
their favourites on the floor.

The printing had never cost the state more than eight
thousand dollars in any one year. This year it cost
four hundred and eighty thousand. Legree drew
thousands of warrants on the state for imaginary
persons. There were eight pages in the house. He
drew pay for one hundred and fifty-six pages. In
this way he raised an enormous corruption fund for
immediate use in bribing the lawmakers to carry
through his schemes.

The Railroad Ring was his most effective group of
brigands. They passed bills authorising the issue of
twenty-five millions of dollars in bonds, and actually
issued and stole fourteen millions and never built
one foot of railroad.

When Legree's movement was at its high tide, Ezra
Perkins sought Uncle Pete Sawyer one night in behalf
of a pet measure of his pending in the House.

Peter was seated by his table, counting by the light
of a candle three big piles of gold.

n8 The Leopard's Spots

His face was wreathed in smiles.

"Peter, you seem well pleased with the world
to-night? " said Ezra, gleefully.

"Well, brudder, you see dem piles er yaller money? "

"Yes. It is a fine sight."

Uncle Pete smacked his lips and grinned from ear
to ear.

"Well, brudder, I tells you. I ben sol' seben times
in my life, but 'fore Gawd dat's de fust time I ebber
got de money! "

Uncle Pete dreamed that night that Congress passed
a law extending the blessings of a "republican form of
government" to North Carolina for forty years and
that the Legislature never adjourned.

But the Legislature finally closed, and in a drunken
revel which lasted all night. They had bankrupted the
state, destroyed its school funds and increased its debt
from sixteen to forty-two millions of dollars without
adding one cent to its wealth or power.

Legree then organised a Municipal and County
Ring to exploit the towns, cities and counties,
having passed a bill vacating all county and city
offices.

This Ring secured the control of Hambright and
levied a tax of twenty-five per cent, for municipal
purposes ! Tom Camp's little home was assessed for
eighty-five dollars in taxes. Mrs. Gaston's home
was assessed for one hundred and sixty dollars. They
could have raised a million as easily as the sum of
these assessments.

It cost the United States Government two hundred
millions of dollars that year to pay the army required
to guard the Legrees and their "loyal" men while
they were thus establishing and maintaining "a repub-
lican form of government" in the South.

CHAPTER XVII
THE SECOND REIGN OF TERROR

IT was the bluest Monday the Reverend John Durham
ever remembered in his ministry. A long drought
had parched the corn into twisted and stunted
little stalks that looked as though they had been burnt
in a prairie fire. The fly had destroyed the wheat crop
and the cotton was dying in the blistering sun of August,
and a blight worse than drought, or flood, or pestilence
brooded over the land, flinging the shadow of its Black
Death over every home. The tax-gatherer of the new
"republican form of government," recently established
in North Carolina, now demanded his pound of flesh.

The Sunday before had been a peculiarly hard one
for the Preacher. He had tried by the sheer power of
personal sympathy to lift the despairing people out
of their gloom and make strong their faith in God. In
his morning sermon he had torn his heart open and
given them its red blood to drink. At the night service
he could not rally from the nerve tension of the morning.
He felt that he had pitiably failed. The whole day
seemed a failure, black and hopeless.

All day long the sorrowful stories of ruin and loss of
homes were poured into his ear.

The Sheriff had advertised for sale for taxes two
thousand three hundied and twenty homes in Campbell
County. The land under such conditions had no value.
It was only a formality for the auctioneer to cry it and
knock it down for the amount of the tax bill.

119

120 The Leopard's Spots

As he arose from bed with the burden of all this
hopeless misery crushing his soul, a sense of utter
exhaustion and loneliness came over him.

"My love, I must go back to bed and try to sleep.
I lay awake last night until two o'clock. I can't eat
anything," he said to his wife as she announced
breakfast.

"John, dear, don't give up like that."

"Can't help it."

"But you must. Come, here is something that will
tone you up. I found this note under the front door
this morning."

"What is it?"

"A notice from some of your admirers that you
must leave this county in forty-eight hours or take
the consequences."

He looked at this anonymous letter and smiled.

"Not such a failure after all, am I? " he mused.

"I thought that would help you," she laughed.

"Yes I can eat breakfast on the strength of that."

He spread this letter out beside his plate and read
and reread it as he ate, while his eyes flashed with a
strange, half -humourous light.

"Really, that's fine, isn't it? 'You sower of sedition
and rebellion, hypocrite and false prophet. The day
has come to clean this county of treason and traitors.
If you dare to urge the people to further resistance to
authority there will be one traitor less in this county.'
That sounds like the voice of a Daniel come to
judgment, don't it?"

"I think Ezra Perkins might know something about
it."

"I am sure of it."

"Well, I'm duly grateful; it's done for you what your
wife couldn't do — cheered you up this morning."

The Second Reign of Terror 121

"That is so, isn't it ? It takes a violent poison some-
times to stimulate the heart's action."

" Now, if you will work the garden for me, where I've
been watering it the past month, you will be yourself
by dinner time."

"I will. That's about all we've got to eat. I've had
no salary in two months and I've no prospects for the
next two months."

He was at work in the garden when Charlie Gaston
suddenly ran through the gate toward him. His face
was red, his eyes streaming with tears and his breath
coming in gasps.

"Doctor, they've killed Nelse ! Mamma says please
come down to our house as quick as you can."

"Is he dead, Charlie?"

"He's 'most dead. I found him down in the woods
lying in a gulley : one leg is broken, there's a big gash over
his eye, his back is beat to a jelly and one of his arms
is broken. We put him in the wagon and hauled him
to the house. I'm afraid he's dead now. Oh, me!"
The boy broke down and choked with sobs.

"Run, Charlie, for the doctor, and I'll be there in a
minute."

The boy flew through the gate to the doctor's
house.

When the Preacher reached Mrs. Gaston's Aunt Eve
was wiping the blood from Nelse's mouth.

" De Lawd hab mussy ! My po' ole man's done kilt."

"Who could have done this, Eve?"

"Dem Union Leaguers. Dey say dey wuz gwine ter
kill him fur not j'inin' 'em en fur tryin' ter vote ergin
em.

"I've been afraid of it," sighed the Preacher as he
felt Nelse's pulse.

" Yassir, en now dey's done hit. My po* ole man. I

122 The Leopard's Spots

wish I'd a-been better ter 'im. Lawd Jesus, help me
now ! "

Eve knelt by the bed and laid her face against Nelse's
while the tears rained down her black face.

"Aunt Eve, it may not be so bad," said the Preacher,
hopefully. "His pulse is getting stronger. He has an
iron constitution. I believe he will pull through, if
there are no internal injuries."

"Praise God ! Ef he do git well, I tell yer now, Marse
John, I fling er spell on dem niggers 'bout dis !"

"I am afraid you can do nothing with them. The
courts are all in the hands of these scoundrels and the
Governor of the state is at the head of the Leagues."

"I doan' want no cotes, Marse John, I'se cote ennuf.
I kin cunjure dem niggers widout any cote."

The doctor pronounced his injuries dangerous but
not necessarily fatal. Charlie and Dick watched with
Eve that night until nearly midnight. Nelse opened
his eyes and saw the eager face of the boy, his eyes
yet red from crying.

"I ain't dead, honey!" he moaned.

"Oh! Nelse, I'm so glad!"

"Doan' you believe I gwine die. I gwine ter git eben
wid dem niggers 'fore I leab dis worl'."

Nelse spoke feebly, but there was a way about his
saying it that boded no good to his enemies, and Eve
was silent. As Nelse improved, Eve's wrath steadily
rose.

The next day she met in the street one of the
Negroes who had threatened Nelse.

"How's Mistah Gaston dis mawnin', Ma'am?" he
asked.

Without a word of warning she sprang on him like a
tigress, bore him to the ground, grasped him by the
throat and pounded his head against a stone. She

The Second Reign of Terror 123

would have choked him to death had not a man who
was passing come to che rescue.

"Lemme 'lone, man; I'se doin' de wuk er God."
"You're committing murder, woman."
When the Negro got up he jumped the fence and
tore down through a cornfield as though pursued by a
hundred devils, now and then glancing over his shoulder
to see if Eve were after him.

The Preacher tried in vain to bring the perpetrators
of this outrage on Nelse to justice. He identified six
of them positively. They were arrested, and when
put on trial immediately discharged by the judge, who
was himself a member of the League that had ordered
Nelse whipped.

• ••••••

Tom Camp's daughter was now in her sixteenth year,
and as plump and winsome a lassie, her Scotch mother
declared, as the Lord ever made. She was engaged to
be married to Hose Norman, a gallant poor white from
the high hill country at the foot of the mountains.
Hose came to see her every Sunday, riding a black mule,
gaily trapped out in martingales with red rings, double
girths to his saddle and a flaming red tassel tied on
each side of the bridle. Tom was not altogether
pleased with his future son-in-law. He was too wild,
went to too many frolics, danced too much, drank too
much whisky, and was too handy with a revolver.

"Annie, child, you'd better think twice before you
step off with that young buck," Tom gravely warned
his daughter as he stroked her fair hair one Sunday
morning while she waited for Hose to escort her to
church.

"I have thought a hundred times, Paw, but what's
the use. I love him. He can just twist me round his
little finger. I've got to have him."

124 The Leopard's Spots

"Tom Camp, you don't want to forget you were
not a saint when I stood up with you one day," cried
his wife, with a twinkle in her eye.

"That's a fact, ole woman," grinned Tom.

"You never give me a day's trouble after I got hold
of you. Sometimes the wildest colts make the safest
horses."

"Yes, that's so. It's owing to who has the breaking
of 'em," thoughtfully answered Tom.

"I like Hose. He's full of fun, but he'll settle down
and make her a good husband."

The girl slipped close to her mother and squeezed her
hand.

"Do you love him much, child?" asked her father.

"Well enough to live and scrub and work for him
and to die for him, I reckon."

"All right, that settles it; you're too many for me,
you and Hose and your Maw. Get ready for it quick.
We'll have the weddin' Wednesday night. This home
is goin' to be sold Thursday for taxes, and it will be our
last night under our own roof. We'll make the best
of it."

It was so fixed. On Wednesday night Hose came
down from the foothills with three kindred spirits, and
an old fiddler to make the music. He wanted to have
a dance and plenty of liquor fresh from the mountain-
dew district. But Tom put his foot down on it.

"No dancin' in my house, Hose, and no licker," said
Tom, with emphasis. "I'm a deacon in the Baptist
church. I used to be young and as good lookin' as you,
my boy, but I've done with them things. You're goin'
to take my little gal now. I want you to quit your
foolishness and be a man."

"I will, Tom, I will. She is the prettiest, sweetest
little thing in this world, and to tell you the truth, I'm

The Second Reign of Terror 125

goin' to settle right down now to the hardest work I
ever did in my life."

"That's the way to talk, my boy,' said Tom, putting
his hand on Hose's shoulder. "You'll have enough to
do these hard times to make a livin'."

They made a handsome picture in that humble home,
as they stood there before the Preacher. The young
bride was trembling from head to foot with fright. Hose
was trying to look grave and dignified, and grinning in
spite of himself whenever he looked into the face of his
blushing mate. The mother was standing near, her
face full of pride in her daughter 'o beauty and happiness,
her heart all a-quiver with the memories of her own
wedding day seventeen years before. Tom was thinking
of the morrow, when he would be turned out of his
home, and his eyes filled with tears.

The Reverend John Durham had pronounced them
man and wife and hurried away to see some people who
were sick. The old fiddler was doing his best. Hose
and his bride were shaking hands with their friends,
and the boys were trying to tease the bridegroom with
hoary old jokes.

Suddenly a black shadow fell across the doorway.
The fiddle ceased, and every eye was turned to the door.
The burly figure of a big Negro trooper from a company
stationed in the town stood before them. His face was
in a broad grin, and his eyes bloodshot with whisky.
He brought his musket down on the floor with a bang.

"My frien's, I'se sorry ter disturb yer, but I has
orders ter search dis house."

"Show your orders," said Tom, hobbling before him.

"Well, dere's one un 'em!" he said, still grinning as
he cocked his gun and presented it toward Tom. "En
ef dat ain't ennuf, dey's fifteen mo' stan'in' 'roun' dis
house. It's no use ter make er fuss. Come on, boys !"

126 The Leopard's Spots

Before Tom could utter another word of protest six
more Negro troopers, laughing and nudging one another,
crowded into the room. Suddenly one of them threw a
bucket of water in the fireplace where a pine knot
blazed, and two others knocked out the candles.

There was a scuffle, the quick thud of heavy blows,
and Hose Norman fell to the floor senseless. A piercing
scream rang from his bride as she was seized in the
arms of the Negro who first appeared. He rapidly
bore her toward the door, surrounded by the six
scoundrels who had accompanied him.

"My God, save her! They are draggin' Annie out
of the house," shrieked her mother.

"Help! Lord have mercy!" screamed the girl, as
they bore her away toward the woods, still laughing
and yelling.

Tom overtook one of them, snatched his wooden leg
off, and knocked him down. Hose's mountain boys
were crowding round Tom with their pistols in their
hands.

"What shall we do, Tom? If we shoot we may kill
Annie."

"Shoot, men! My God, shoot! There are things
worse than death!"

They needed no urging. Like young tigers they
sprang across the orchard toward the woods whence
came the sound of the laughter of the Negroes.

"Stop de screechin' !" cried the leader.

"She nebber get dat gag out now."

"Too smart fur de po' white trash dis time sho'!"
laughed one.

Three pistol shots rang out like a single report. Three
more ! and three more ! There was a wild scramble.
Taken completely by surprise, the Negroes fled in
confusion. Four lay on the ground. Two were dead,

The Second Reign of Terror 127

one mortally wounded, and three more had crawled
away with bullets in their bodies. There in the midst
of the heap lay the unconscious girl, gagged.

"Is she hurt?" cried a mountain boy.

"Can't tell; take her to the house, quick."

They laid her across the bed in the room that had
been made sweet and tidy for the bride and groom.
The mother bent over her quickly with a light. Just
where the blue veins crossed in her delicate temple
there was a round hole from which a scarlet stream
was running down her white throat.

Without a word the mother brought Tom, showed
it to him, and then fell into his arms and burst into a
flood of tears.

"Don't; don't cry so, Annie. It might have been
worse. Let us thank God she was saved from them
brutes."

Hose's friends crowded round Tom with tear-
stained faces.

"Tom, you don't know how broke up we all are over
this. Poor child, we did the best we could."

"It's all right, boys. You've been my friends to-
night. You've saved my little gal. I want to shake
hands with you and thank you. If you hadn't been

here My God, I can't think of what would 'a*

happened ! Now it's all right. She's safe in God's
hands."

The next morning, when Tom Camp called at the
parsonage to see the Preacher and arrange for the
funeral of his daughter, he found him in bed.

"Doctor Durham is quite sick, Mr. Camp, but he'll
see you," said Mrs. Durham.

"Thank you. Ma'am."

She took the old soldier by the hand and her voice
choked as she said:

128 The Leopard's Spots

"You have my heart's deepest sympathy in you*
awful sorrow."

" It'll be all for the best, Ma'am. The Lord gave and
the Lord has taken away. I will still say, Blessed is
the name of the Lord."

"I wish I had such faith." She led Tom into the
room where the Preacher lay.

"Why, what's this, Preacher? A bandage over your
eye; looks like somebody knocked you in the head?"

"Yes, Tom; but it's nothing. I'll be all right by
to-morrow. You needn't tell me anything that happened
at your house. I've heard the black hell-lit news.
It will be all over this county by night and the town
will be full of grim-visaged men before many hours.
Your child has not died in vain. A few things like
this will be the trumpet of the God of our fathers that
will call the sleeping manhood of the Anglo-Saxon race
to life again. I must be up and about this afternoon
to keep down the storm. It is not time for it to break."

"But, Preacher, what happened to you?"

"Oh, nothing much, Tom."

"I'll tell you what happened," cried Mrs. Durham,
standing erect, with her great black eyes flashing
with anger.

"As he came home last night from a visit to the sick,
he was ambushed by a gang of Negroes led by a white
scoundrel, knocked down, bound and gagged and placed
on a pile of dry fence rails. They set fire to the pile
and left him to burn to death. It attracted the attention
of Doctor Graham, who was passing. He got to him in
time to save him."

"You don't say so!"

"I'm sorry, Tom, I'm so weak I couldn't come to see
you. I know your poor wife is heart-broken."

"Yes, sir, she is; and it cuts me to the quick when

The Second Reign of Terror 129

I think that I gave the orders to the boys to shoot.
But, Preacher, I'd 'a' killed her with my own hand if
I couldn't 'a* saved her no other way. I'd do it over
again a thousand times if I had to."

"I don't blame you; I'd have done the same thing.
I can't come to see you to-day, Tom. I'll be down to
your house to-morrow a few minutes before we start for
the cemetery. I must get up for dinner and prevent
the men from attacking these troops. They'll net dare
to try to sell your place to-day. The public square is
full of men now, and it's only nine o'clock. You go
home and cheer up your wife. How is Hose ? "

"He's still in bed. The Doctor says his skull is
broken in one place, but he'll be over it in a few weeks."

Tom hobbled back to his house, shaking hands with
scores of silent men on the way.

The Preacher crawled to his desk and wrote this note
to the young officer in command of the post:

" My Dear Captain: In the interest of peace and
order I would advise you to telegraph to Independence
for two companies of white regulars to come
immediately on a special, and that you start your
Negro troops on double-quick marching order to
meet them. There will be a thousand armed men
in Hambright by sundown, and no power on earth
can prevent the extermination of that Negro
company if they attack them. I will do my best to
prevent further bloodshed, but I can do nothing if
these troops remain here to-day. Respectfully,

"John Durham."

The Commandant acted on the advice immediately.
• ••••••

It was the week following before the sales began.

130 The Leopard's Spots

There was no help for it. The town and the county
were doomed to a ruin more complete and terrible than
the four years of war had brought. Independence had
been saved by a skilful movement of General Worth,
who sought an interview with Legree when his council
first issued their levy of thirty per cent, for municipal
purposes.

"Mr. Legree, let's understand one another," said the
General.

"All right; I'm a man of reason."

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."

"Every time, General."

"Well, call of! your dogs and rescind your order for
a thirty per cent, tax levy and I'll raise $30,000 in cash
and pay it to you in two days."

"Make it $50,000 and it's a bargain."

"Agreed." *

The General raised twenty thousand in the city, went
North and borrowed the remaining thirty thousand.

Legree and his brigands received this ransom and
moved on to the next town.

Poor Hambright was but a scrawny little village on a
red hill, with no big values to be saved and no mills to
interest the commercial world, and the auctioneer lifted
his hammer.

CHAPTER xvirr

THE RED FLAG OF THE AUCTIONEER

THE excitement through which Tom Camp had
passed in the death of his daughter, and the
stirring events connected with it, had been more
than his feeble body could endure. He had been
stricken with paroxysms of pain and nausea from his
old wounds. For three days and nights he had suffered
unspeakable agonies. He had borne his pain with
stoical indifference.

"Tom, old man, do look at me! You skeer me,"
said his wife, leaning tenderly over him.
"Oh! I'm all right, Annie."
"What were you studyin' about then?"
"I was just a thinkin' we didn't kill babies in the war.
Them was awful times, but they wuz nothin' to what
we're goin' through now. The Lord knows best, but I
can't understand it."

"Well, don't talk any more. You're too weak."
"I must git up, Annie. Got to git out anyhow.
The Sheriff's goin' to sell us out to-day, and I want to
sorter look 'round once before we go."

So, leaning on his wife's arm, he hobbled around the
place, saying good-by to its familiar objects. They
stopped before the garden gate.

"Don't go in there, Tom; I can't stand it," cried his
wife. "When I think of leavin' that garden I've worked
so hard on all these years, and that's give us so many

131

132 The Leopard's Spots

good things to eat, and never failed us the year round,
| just feel like it'll tear my heart out."

"Do you mind the day we set out these trees, Annie,
an' you, my own purty gal, holdin' em fur me while I
-packed the dirt around 'em, and told you how sweet you
wuz?"

"Yes, and I love every twig of 'em. They've all
helped me in times of need. It's hard to give it up !"
She couldn't keep back the tears.

"Well, now, ole woman, you musn't break down.
You're strong and well, and I'm all shot to pieces and
crippled and no 'count. But the Lord still lives. We'll
get this place back. The Lord's just trying our faith.
He thinks mebbe I'll give up."

"You think we can ever get it back?"

"General Worth sent me word he couldn't do any-
thing now, but to let it go and keep a stiff upper lip.
The General ain't no fool."

"Surely the Lord can't let us starve."

"Starve! I reckon not. The foxes have holes, the
birds of the air nests, but the Son of Man had not where
to lay His head, but He never starved. No, God's in
heaven. I'll trust Him."

A mocking-bird whose mate had just built her nest to
rear a second brood for the season was seated on the
topmost branch of a cedar near the house and singing
as though he would fill heaven and earth with the glory
of his love.

"Just listen at that bird, Tom!" whispered his wife.
■ "He does sing sweet, don't he?"

" Oh, dear, oh, dear, how can I give it all up ! I've fed
that bird and his mate for years. He knows my voice.
I can call him down out of that tree. Many a night when
you were away in the war he sat close to my window
and sang softly to me all night. When I'd wake, I'd

The Red Flag of the Auctioneer 133

hear him singin' low like he was afraid he'd wake
somebody. I'd sit down there by the window and cry for
you and dream of your comin' home till he'd sing me to
sleep in the chair. And now we've got to leave him.
Lord, my heart is broken ! I can't see the way ! "

She buried her face on Tom's shoulder and shook
with sobs.

"Hush, hush, honey; we must face trouble. We are
used to it."

"But not this, Tom. It'll tear my heart out when I
have to leave."

"It can't be helped, Annie. We've got to pay for
this nigger government."

Eleven o'clock was the hour fixed for the sale. At
half-past ten a crowd of Negroes had gathered. There
were only two or three white men present, the Agent of
the Freedman's Bureau and some of his henchmen.

They began to inspect the place. Tim Shelby was
present, dressed in a suit of broadcloth and a silk hat
placed jauntily on his close-cropped scalp.

"That's a fine orchard, gentlemen," Tim ex-
claimed.

"Yes, en dat's er fine gyarden," said a Negro standing
near.

"Let's look at the house," said Tim, starting to the
door.

Tom stood up in the doorway with a musket in his
hand. "Put your foot on that doorstep and I'll blow
your brains out, you flat -nosed baboon!"

Tim paused and bowed with a smile.

"Ain't the premises for sale, Mr. Camp?"

"Yes; but my family ain't for inspection by niggers."

"Just wanted to see the condition of the house, sir,'*
said Tim, still smiling.

"Well, I'm livin' here yet, and don't you forget it/'

134 The Leopard's Spots

answered Tom, with quiet emphasis. Tim walked away,
laughing.

Tom stepped out of the house, and with his wooden
leg marked a dead-line around the house about ten feet
from each corner. To the crowd that stood near he
said in a clear, ringing voice as he stood up in the
doorway :

"I'll kill the first nigger that crosses that line."

There was no attempt to cross it. They did not like
the look of Tom's face as he sat there pale and silent.
And they could hear the sobs of his wife inside.

The sale was a brief formality. There was but one
bidder, the Honourable Tim Shelby. It was knocked
down to Tim for the sum of eighty-five dollars, the exact
amount of the tax levy which Legree and his brigands
had fixed.

Tim was not buying on his own account. He was the
purchasing agent of the subsidiary ring which Legree
had organised to hold the real estate forfeited for taxes
until a rise in value would bring them millions of profit.
They had stolen from the state Treasury the money to
capitalise this company. Where it was possible to exact
a cash ransom, they always took it and cancelled the
tax order, preferring the certainty of good gold in their
pockets to the uncertainties of politics.

They tried their best to get a cash ransom of ten
thousand dollars for the town of Hambright, but the
ruined people could not raise a thousand. So Tim
Shelby, as the agent of the "Union Land and Improve-
ment Company," became the owner of farm after farm
and home after home.

It was a vain hope that relief could come from any
quarter. The red flag of the Sheriff's auctioneer flut-
tered from two thousand three hundred and twenty
doors in the county. This was more than two-thirds of

The Red Flag of the Auctioneer 135

the total. Those who had saved just escaped by the skin
of their teeth. They sold old jewelry or plate that had
been hidden in the war, or they sold their corn and
provisions, trusting to their ability to live on dried fruit,
berries, walnuts, hickory nuts, and such winter vegetables
as they could raise in their gardens.

The Preacher secured for Tom a tumbledown log
cabin on the outskirts of town, with a half -acre of poor
red hill land around it, which his wife at once trans-
formed into a garden. She took up the bulbs and
flowers that she had tended so lovingly about the door
of their old home and planted them with tears around
this desolate cabin. Now and then she would look
down at the work and cry. Then she would go bravely
back to it. As nobody occupied her old home, she went
back and forth until she moved all the jonquils and sweet
pinks from the borders of the garden walk and reset
them in the new garden. She then moved her straw-
berries, and raspberries, and gooseberries, and set her
fall cabbage plants. In three weeks she had transformed
a desolate red clay lot into a smiling garden. She had
watered every plant daily, and Tom had watched her
with growing wonder and love.

" Ole woman, you're an angel!" he cried. "If God
had sent one down from the skies she Couldn't have
done any more."

• • • • • • •

The problem which pressed heaviest of all on the
Preacher's heart in this crisis was how to save Mrs.
Gaston's home.

" If that place is sold next week, my dear," he said to
his wife, "she will never survive."

" I know it. She is sinking every day. It breaks my
heart to look at her."

"What can we do?"

136 The Leopard's Spots

"I'm sure I can't tell. We've given everything we
have on earth except the clothes on our back. I
haven't another piece of jewelry, or even an old dress."

1 ' The tax and the cost may amount to a hundred and
seventy-five dollars. There isn't a man in this county
who has that much money, or I'd borrow it if I had to
mortgage my body and soul to do it."

"I'll tell you what you might do," his wife suddenly
exclaimed. "Telegraph your old college mate in Boston
that you will accept his invitation to supply his pulpit
those last two Sundays in August. They will pay you
handsomely."

" It may be possible, but where am I to get the money
for a telegram and a ticket?"

"Surely you can borrow somewhere?"

"I don't know a man in the county who has it."

"Then go to the young Commandant of the post here.
Tell him the facts. Tell him that a widow of a brave
Confederate soldier is about to be turned out of her
home because she can't pay the taxes levied by this
infamous Negro government. Ask him to loan you the
money for the telegram and the ticket."

The Preacher seized his hat and made his way as fast
as possible to the camp. The young Captain heard his
story with grave courtesy.

"Certainly, Doctor," he said; "I'll loan you the forty
dollars with pleasure. I wish I could do more to relieve
the distress of the people. Believe me, sir, the people
of the North do not dream of the awful conditions of
the South. They are being fooled by the politicians.
I'll thank God when I am relieved of this job and get
home. What has amazed me is that you hot-headed
Southern people have stood it thus far. I don't know
a Northern community that would have endured it."

"Ah, Captain, the people are heartsick of bloodshed.

The Red Flag of the Auctioneer 137

They surrendered in good faith. They couldn't foresee
this. If they had "

The Preacher paused, his eyes grew misty with tears,
and he looked thoughtfully out on the blue mountain
peaks that loomed range after range in the distance until
the last bald tops were lost in the clouds.

"If General Lee had dreamed of such an infamy
being forced on the South two years after his surrender
as this attempt to make the old slaves the rulers of their
masters, and to destroy the Anglo-Saxon civilisation of
the South, he would have withdrawn his armies into
that Appalachian mountain wild and fought till every
white man in the South was exterminated.

"The Confederacy went to pieces in a day, not
because the South could no longer fight, but because
they were fighting the flag of their fathers, and they
were tired of it. They went back to the old flag. They
expected to lose their slaves and repudiate the dogma of
Secession forever. But they never dreamed of Negro
dominion, or Negro deification, of Negro equality and
amalgamation, now being rammed down their throats
with bayonets. They never dreamed of the confiscation
of the desolate homes of the poor and the weak and the
brokenhearted. More than two hundred thousand
Southern men fought in the Union army in answer
to Lincoln's call — even against their own flesh and
blood. But if this programme had been announced,
every one < f the two hundred thousand Southern
soldiers who wore the blue would have rallied around
the firesides of the South. This infamy was some-
thing undreamed save in the souls of a few desperate
schemers at Washington, who waited their opportunity
and found it in the nation's blind agony over the
death of a martyred leader."

The Preacher pressed the Captain's hand and hastened

138 The Leopard's Spots

to tell Mrs. Gaston of his plans. He found her seated
pale and wistful at her window looking out on the lawn,
now being parched and ruined since Nelse was disabled
and could no longer tend it.

Charlie was trying to kiss the tears away from her
eyes.

"Mamma, dear, you mustn't cry any more!"

"I can't help it, darling."

"They can't take our home away from us. I tore
down the sign they nailed on the door, and Dick
burned it up."

"But they will do it, Charlie. The Sheriff will sell it
at auction next week, and we will never have a home of
our own again."

Charlie quickly bounded to the door and showed the
Preacher in.

"I have good news for you, Mrs. Gaston. I start to
Boston to-night to preach two Sundays. I am going
to try to borrow the money there to save your home.
We will not be too sure till it's done, but you must
cheer up."

"Oh, Doctor, you're giving me a new lease on life !"
she cried, looking up at him through tears of gratitude.
That night the Preacher hurried on his way to Boston.
The days dragged slowly one after another, and still
no word came to the anxious, waiting woman. It was
only two days now until the day fixed for the sale.

She asked the Sheriff to come to see her. He was a
brutal t illiterate henchman of Legree, who had been
appointed to the office to do his bidding. He was a
brother of the immortal "Hog" Scoggins, who had
represented an adjoining county in the Legislature.

"Mr. Scoggins, I've sent for you to ask you to post-
pone the sale until Doctor Durham returns from Boston.
I expect to get the money from him to pay the tax bill."

The Red Flag of the Auctioneer 139

"Can't do it, M'um. They's er lot er folks comin' ter
bid on the place."

V But I tell you I'm going to pay the tax bill."

"Well, M'um, hit'll have ter be paid afore the time
sot, er I'll be erbleeged to sell."

"I'm sure Doctor Durham will get the money."

"Ef he does, hit'll be the fust time hit's happened in
this county sence the sales begun."

In vain she waited for a letter or a telegram from
Boston. Charlie went faithfully, asking Dave Haley,
the postmaster, two or three times on the arrival of
each mail.

"I tell ye there's nothin' fur ye!" he yelled, as he
glared at the boy. "Ef ye don't go 'way from that
winder I'll pitch ye out the door !"

The scoundrel had recognised the letter in Doctor
Durham's handwriting and had hidden it, suspecting
its contents.

When the day came for the sale Mrs. Gaston tried to
face the trial bravely. But it was too much for her.
When she saw a great herd of Negroes trampling down
her flowers, laughing, cracking vulgar jokes, and
swarming over the porches, she sank feebly into her
chair, buried her face in her hands and gave way to a
passionate flood of tears. She was roused by the
thumping of heavy feet in the hall and the unmis-
takable odour of perspiring Negroes. They had
begun to ransack the house on tours of inspection.
The poor woman's head drooped and she fell to the
floor in a dead swoon.

There was a sudden charge as of an armed host, the
sound of blows, a wild scramble, and the house was
cleared. Aunt Eve with a fire shovel, Charlie with a
broken hoe handle and Dick with a big black snake
whip had cleared the air.

140 The Leopard's Spots

Aunt Eve stood on the front doorstep shaking the
shovel at the crowd.

"Des put yo' big fiat hoofs in dis house ergin ! I'll
split yo' heads wide open ! You black cattle ! "

"Dat we will!" railed Dick, as he cracked the whip
at a little Negro passing.

Charlie ran into his mother's room and found her
lying across the floor on her face.

"Aunt Eve, come quick, Mamma's dying!" he
shouted. »

They lifted her to the bed, and Dick ran for the
Doctor.

Doctor Graham looked very grave when he had
completed his examination.

" Come here, my boy; I must tell you some sad news."

Charlie's big brown eyes glanced up with a startled
look into the Doctor's face.

"Don't tell me she's dying, Doctor; I can't stand it."

The Doctor took his hand. "You're getting to be
a man now, my son; you will soon be thirteen. You
must be brave. Your mother will not live through
the night."

The boy sank on his knees beside the still white
figure, tenderly clasped her thin hand in his, and began
to kiss it slowly. He would kiss it, lay his wet cheek
against it, and try to warm it with his hot, young blood.

It was about nine o'clock when she opened her eyes
with a smile and looked into his face.

"My sweet boy," she whispered.

"Oh, Mamma, do try to live! Don't leave me," he
sobbed in quivering tones as he leaned over and kissed
her lips. She smiled faintly again.

"Yes, I must go, dear. I am tired. Your Papa is
waiting for me. I see him smiling and beckoning to me
now. I must go."

The Red Flag of the Auctioneer 141

A sob shook the boy with an agony no words
could frame.

"There, there, dear, don't," she soothingly said. " You
will grow to be a brave, strong man. You will fight this
battle out, and win back our home and bring your own
bride here in the far-away days of sunshine and success
I see for you. She will love you, and the flowers will
blossom on the lawn again. But I am tired. Kiss
me — I must go."

Her heart fluttered on for awhile, but she never spoke
again.

At ten o'clock Mrs. Durham tenderly lifted the boy
from the bedside, kissed him, and said as she led him
to his room:

"She's done with suffering, Charlie. You are going
to live with me now, and let me love you and be
your mother."

• ••••••

The Preacher had made a profound impression on his
Boston congregation.

They were charmed by his simple, direct appeal to the
heart. His fiery emphasis, impassioned dogmatic faith,
his tenderness and the strange pathos of his voice swept
them off their feet. At night the big church was crowded
to the doors, and throngs were struggling in vain to gain
admittance. At the close of the services he was
overwhelmed with the expressions of gratitude and
heartfelt sympathy with which they thanked him
for his messages.

He was feasted and dined and taken out into the
parks behind spanking teams, until his head was dizzy
with the unaccustomed whirl.

The Preacher went through it all with a heavy heart.
Those beautiful homes, with their rich carpets and
handsome furniture, and those long lines of beautiful

142 The Leopard's Spots

carriages in the parks, made a contrast with the
agony of universal ruin which he left at home that
crushed his soul.

He hastened to tell the story of Mrs. Gaston to a
genial old merchant who had taken a great fancy to him.

A tear glistened in the old man's eye as he
quickly rose.

"Come right down to my store. I'll get you the
money before the post-office closes. I've got tickets for
you to go to the Colosseum with me to-night and hear
the music — the great Peace Jubilee. We are celebrating
the return of peace and prosperity and the preservation
of the Union. It's the greatest musical festival the
world ever saw."

The Preacher was dazed with the sense of its sublimity
and the pathetic tragedy of the South that lay back of
its joy.

The great Colosseum, constructed for the purpose,
seated more than forty thousand people. Such a crowd
he had never seen gathered together within one building.
The soul of the orator in him leaped with divine power as
he glanced over the swaying ocean of human faces. There
were twelve thousand trained voices in the chorus. He
had dreamed of such music in Heaven when countless
hosts of angels should gather around God's throne. He
had never expected to hear it on this earth. He was
transported with a rapture that thrilled and lifted him
above the consciousness of time and sense.

They rendered the masterpieces of all the ages. The
music continued hour after hour, day after day, and
night after night.

The grand chorus within the Colosseum was accom-
panied by the ringing of bells in the city and the firing
of cannon on the Common, discharged in perfect time
with the melody that rolled upward from those twelve

The Red Flag of the Auctioneer 143

thousand voices and broke against the gates of Heaven.
When every voice was in full cry, and every instrument
jf music that man had ever devised throbbed in
harmony, and a hundred anvils were ringing a chorus of
steel in perfect time, Perepa Rosa stepped forward on
the great stage, and in a voice that rang its splendid
note of triumph over all like the trumpet of the arch-
angel, sang "The Star-Spangled Banner."

Men and women fainted, and one woman died, unable
to endure the strain. The Preacher turned his head
away and looked out of the window. A soft wind was
blowing from the South. On its wings were borne to
his heart the cry of the widow and orphan, the hungry
and the dying, still being trampled to death by a war
more terrible than the first, because it was waged against
the unarmed, women and children, the wounded, the
starving and the defenseless ! He tried in vain to keep
back the tears. Bending low, he put his face in his
hands and cried like a child.

" God forgive them ! They know not what they do ! "
he moaned.

The kindly old man by his side said nothing, supposing
he was overcome by the grandeur of the music.

CHAPTER XIX
THE RALLY OF THE CLANSMEN

WHEN the Preacher took the train in Boston
for the South, his friendly merchant, a
deacon, was by his side.

"Now, you put my name and address down in your
note-book — William Crane. And don't forget about us."

"I'll never forget you, Deacon."

"Say, I may just as well tell you," whispered the
Deacon, bending close; "we are not going to allow you
to stay down South. We'll be down after you before
long — just as well be packing up."

The Preacher smiled, looked out of the car window,
and made no reply.

"Well, good-by, Doctor; good-by. God bless you
and your work and your people. You've brought me
a message warm from God's heart. I'll never forget it."

"Good-by, Deacon."

As the train whirled southward through the rich,
populous towns and cities of the North, again the sharp
contrast with the desolation of his own land cut him
like a knife. He thought of Legree and Haley, Perkins
and Tim Shelby robbing widows and orphans and sweep-
ing the poverty-stricken Southland with riot, pillage,
murder and brigandage, and posing as the representa-
tives of the conscience of the North. And his heart
was heavy with sorrow.

On reaching Hambright he was thunderstruck at the

144

The Rally of the Clansmen 145

news of the sale of Mrs. Gaston's place and her tragic
death.

"Why, my dear, I sent the money to her on the first
Monday I spent in Boston," he declared to his wife.

"It never reached her."

"Then Dave Haley, the dirty slave-driver, has held
that letter. I'll see to this." He hurried to the post-
office.

"Mr. Haley," he exclaimed, "I sent a money-order
letter to Mrs. Gaston from Boston on Monday a week
ago.

"Yes, sir," answered Haley in his blandest manner,
"it got here the day after the sale."

"You're an infamous liar!" shouted the Preacher,

"Of course. Of course. All Union men are liars, to
hear rebel traitors talk."

"I'll report you to Washington for this rascality."

"So do, so do. Mor'n likely the President and the
Post-Office Department '11 be glad to have this informa-
tion from so great a man."

As the Preacher was leaving the post-office he encoun-
tered the Honourable Tim Shelby, dressed in the height
of fashion, his silk hat shining in the sun and his eyes
rolling with the joy of living. The Preacher stepped
squarely in front of Tim.

"Tim Shelby, I hear you have moved into Mrs.
Gaston's home and are using her furniture. By whose
authority do you dare such insolence?"

"By authority of the law, sir. Mrs. Gaston died
intestate. Her effects are in the hands of our County
Administrator, Mr. Ezra Perkins. I'll be pleased to
receive you, sir, any time you would like to call," said
Tim, with a bow.

"Ill call in due time," replied the Preacher, looking
Tim straight in the eye.

146 The Leopard's Spots

Haley had been peeping through the window, watching
and listening to this encounter.

"These charmin' preachers think they own this
county, Brother Shelby," laughed Haley, as he grasped
Tim's outstretched hand.

"Yes, they are the curse of the state. I wish to God
they had succeeded in burning him alive that night the
boys tried it. They'll get him later on. Brother Haley,
he's a dangerous man. He must be put out of the way
or we'll never have smooth sailing in this county."

"I believe you're right. He's just been in here cussin*
me about that letter of the widder's that didn't get to
her in time. He thinks he can run the post-office."

"Well, we'll show him this county's in the hands of
the loyal," added Tim.

"Heard the news from Charleston?"

"Heard it? I guess I have. I talked with the com-
manding general in Charleston two weeks ago. He
told me then he was going to set aside that decision of
the Supreme Court in a ringing order permitting the
marriage of Negroes to white women, and commanding
its enforcement on every military post. I see he's
done it in no uncertain words."

"It's a great day, brother, for the world. There'll be
no more colour line."

"Yes, times have changed," said Tim, with a trium-
phant smile. "I guess our white hot-bloods will sweat
and bluster and swear a little when they read that order.
But we've got the bayonets to enforce it. They'd just
as well cool down."

"That's the stuff," said Haley, taking a fresh chew
of tobacco.

"Let 'em squirm. They're flat on their backs. We
are on top, and we are going to stay on top. I expect to
lead a fair white bride into my house before another

The Rally of the Clansmen 147

year, and have poor white aristocrats to tend my
lawn." Tim worked his ears and looked up at the
ceiling in a dreamy sort of way.

"That'll be a sight, won't it !" exclaimed Haley, with
delight. "Where's that scoundrel Nelse that lived
with Mrs. Gaston?"

"Oh, we fixed him," said Tim. "The black rascal
wouldn't join the League, and wouldn't vote with his
people, and still showed fight after we beat him half to
death, so we put a levy of fifty dollars on his cabin, sold
him out, and every piece of furniture and every rag of
clothes we could get hold of. He'll leave the country
now or we'll kill him next time."

"You ought to 'a' killed him the first time and then
the job would ha' been over."

"Oh, we'll have the country in good shape in a little
while, and don't you forget it."

The news of the order of the military commandant of
"District No. 2," comprising the Carolinas, abrogating
the decision of the North Carolina Supreme Court
forbidding the intermarriage of Negroes and whites,
fell like a bombshell on Campbell County. The people
had not believed that the military authorities would
dare to go to the length of attempting to force social
equality.

This order from Charleston was not only explicit, its
language was peculiarly emphatic. It apparently com-
manded ■ intermarriage, and ordered the military
to enforce the command at the point of the
bayonet.

The feelings of the people were wrought to the pitch
of fury. It needed but a word from a daring leader,
and a massacre of every Negro, scalawag and carpet-
bagger in the county might have followed. The
Reverend John Durham was busy day and night seeking

148 The Leopard's Spots

to allay excitement and prevent an uprising of the
white population.

Along with the announcement of this military order
came the startling news that Simon Legree, whose
infamy was known from end to end of the state, was to
be the next Governor, and that the Honourable
Tim Shelby was a candidate for Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court.

Legree was in Washington at the time on a mission
to secure a stand of twenty thousand rifles from the
Secretary of War, with which to arm the Negro troops
he was drilling for the approaching election. The
grant was made, and Legree came back in triumph with
his rifles.

Relief for the ruined people was now a hopeless dream.
Black despair was clutching at every white man's heart.
The taxpayers had held a convention and sent their
representatives to Washington, exposing the monstrous
thefts that were being committed under the authority
of the government by the organised band of thieves
who were looting the state. But the thieves were the
pets of politicians high in power. The committee of
taxpayers were insulted and sent home to pay their
taxes.

And then a thing happened in Hambright that brought
matters to a sudden crisis.

The Honourable Tim Shelby, as school commissioner,
had printed the notices for an examination of school-
teachers for Campbell County. An enormous tax had
been levied and collected by the county for this purpose,
but no school had been opened. Tim announced, how-
ever, that the school would surely be opened the first
Monday in October.

Miss Mollie Graham, the pretty niece of the old
doctor, was struggling to support a blind mother and

The Rally of the Clansmen 149

four younger children. Her father and brother had
been killed in the war. Their house had been sold for
taxes, and they were required now to pay Tim Shelby
ten dollars a month for rent. When she saw the school
notice her heart gave a leap. If she could only get the
place it would save them from beggary.

She fairly ran to the Preacher to get his advice.

"Certainly, child, try for it. It's humiliating to ask
such a favor of that black ape, but if you can save
your loved ones, do it."

So with trembling hand she knocked at Tim's door.
He required all applicants to apply personally at his
house. Tim met her with the bows and smirks of a
dancing-master.

"Delighted to see your pretty face this morning,
Miss Graham," he cried, enthusiastically.

The girl blushed and hesitated at the door.

"Just walk right into the parlour; I'll join you in a
moment."

She bravely set her lip and entered.

"And now what can I do for you, Miss Graham? "

"I've come to apply for a teacher's place in the
school."

"Ah, indeed! I'm glad to know that. There is only
one difficulty. You must be loyal. Your people were
rebels, and the new government has determined to have
only loyal teachers."

"I think I'm loyal enough to the old flag now that
our people have surrendered," said the girl.

"Yes, yes, I dare say; but do you think you can
accept the new regime of government and society which
we are now establishing in the South? We have
abolished the colour line. Would you have a mixed
school if assigned one?"

I think I'd prefer to teach a Negro school

14

150 The Leopard's Spots

outright, to a mixed one," she said, after a moment's
hesitation.

Tim continued: "You know we are living in a new
world. The supreme law of the land has broken down
every barrier of race and we are henceforth to be one
people. The struggle for existence knows no race or
colour. It's a struggle now for bread. I'm in a posi-
tion to be of great help to you and your family if you
will only let me."

The girl suddenly rose, impelled by some resistless
instinct.

"May I have the place then ? " she asked, approaching
the door.

"Well, now, you know it depends really altogether on
my fancy. I'll tell you what I'll do. You're still full
of silly prejudices. I can see that. But if you will over~
come them enough to do one thing for me as a test,
that will cost you nothing and of which the world will
never be the wiser, I'll give you the place, and more; I'll
remit the ten dollars a month rent you're now paying.
Will you do it?"

"What is it?" the girl asked, with pale, quivering
lips.

"Let me kiss you — once! " he whispered.

With a scream, she sprang past him out of the door,
ran like a deer across the lawn, and fell sobbing in her
mother's arms when she reached her home.

The next day the town was unusually quiet. Tim
had business with the Commandant of the company of
regulars still quartered at Hambright. He spent most
of the day with him, and walked about the streets
ostentatiously showing his familiarity with the corporal
who accompanied him. A guard of three soldiers was
stationed around Tim's house for two nights and then
withdrawn.

The Rally of the Clansmen 151

The next night at twelve o'clock two hundred white-
robed horses assembled around the old home of Mrs.
Gaston, where Tim was sleeping. The moon was full
and flooded the lawn with silver glory. On those
horses sat two hundred white-robed silent men whose
close-fitting hood disguises looked like the mail helmets
of ancient knights.

It was the work of a moment to seize Tim and bind
him across a horse's back. Slowly the grim procession
moved to the court-house square.

When the sun rose the next morning the lifeless body
of Tim Shelby was dangling from a rope tied to the iron
rail of the balcony of the court-house. His neck was
broken and his body was hanging low — scarcely three
feet from the ground. His thick lips had been split with
a sharp knife, and from his teeth hung this placard:

1 ' The answer of the A nglo-Saxon race to
Negro lips that dare pollute with words the
womanhood of the South. K. K. K."

And the Ku Klux Klan was master of Campbell
County.

The origin of this Law and Order League, which
sprang up like magic in a night and nullified the pro-
gramme of Congress, though backed by an army of a
million veteran soldiers, is yet a mystery.

The simple truth is, it was a spontaneous and resist-
less racial uprising of clansmen of highland origin living
along the Appalachian Mountains and foothills of the
South, and it appeared almost simultaneously in every
Southern state, produced by the same terrible conditions.

It was the answer to their foes of a proud and in-
domitable race of men driven to the wall. In the hour
of their defeat they laid down their arms and accepted

u$2 The Leopard's Spots

in good faith the results of the war. And then, when
unarmed and defenseless, a group of pothouse politi-
cians for political ends renewed the war and attempted
to wipe out the civilisation of the South.

This Invisible Empire of White Robed Anglo-Saxon
Knights was simply the old answer of organised man-
hood to organised crime. Its purpose was to bring
order out of chaos, protect the weak and defenseless,
the widows and orphans of brave men who had died
for their country, to drive from power the thieves who
were robbing the people, redeem the commonwealth
from infamy, and reestablish civilisation.

Within one week from its appearance, life and
property were as safe as in any Northern community,

When the Negroes came home from their League
meeting one night they ran terror-stricken past long
rows of white horsemen. Not a word was spoken,
but that was the last meeting the "Union League of
America" ever held in Hambright.

Every Negro found guilty of a misdemeanor was
promptly thrashed and warned against its recurrence.
The sudden appearance of this host of white cavalry
grasping at their throats with the grip of cold steel
struck the heart of Legree and his followers with the
chill of a deadly fear.

It meant inevitable ruin, overthrow, and a prison cell
for the "loyal" statesmen who were with him in his
efforts to maintain the new "republican form of govern-
ment" in North Carolina.

At the approaching election, this white terror could
intimidate every Negro in the state unless he could arm
them all, suspend the writ of Habeas Corpus, and place
every county under the strictest martial law.

Washington was besieged by a terrified army of the
"loyal," who saw their occupation threatened. They

The Rally of the Clansmen 155.

begged for more troops, more guns for Negro militia,
and for the reestablishment of universal martial law
until the votes were properly counted.

But the great statesmen laughed them to scorn as a
set of weak cowards and fools frightened by Negro stories
of ghosts. It was incredible to them that the crushed,
poverty-stricken and unarmed South could dare chal-
lenge the power of the National Government. They
were sent back with scant comfort.

The night that Ezra Perkins and Haley got back
from Washington, where they had gone summoned by
Legree and Hogg to testify to the death of Tim Shelby,
they saw a sight that made their souls quake.

At ten o'clock the Ku Klux Klan held a formal
parade through the streets of Hambright. How the
news was circulated nobody knew, but it seemed every-
body in the county knew of it. The streets were lined
with thousands of people who had poured into town
that afternoon.

At exactly ten o'clock a bugle call was heard on the
hill to the west of the town, and the muffled tread of
soft-shod horses came faintly on their ears. Women
stood on the sidewalks, holding their babies and
smiling, and children were laughing and playing in
the streets.

They rode four abreast in perfect order slowly through
the town. It was utterly impossible to recognise a man
or a horse, so complete was the simple disguise of the
white sheet which blanketed the horse, fitting closely
over his head and ears and falling gracefully over his
form toward the ground.

No citizen of Hambright was in the procession. They
were in the streets watching it pass. There were fifteen
hundred men in line. But the reports next day all
agreed in fixing the number at more than five thousand.

154 The Leopard's Spots

Perkins and Haley had watched it from a darkened
room.

"Brother Haley, that's the end! Lord, I wish I was
back in Michigan, jail er no jail," said Perkins, mopping
the perspiration from his brow.

"We'll have ter dig out purty quick, I reckon,"
answered Haley.

"And to think them fools at Washington laughed at
us !" cried Perkins, clenching his fists.

And that night mothers and fathers gathered their
children to bed with a sense of grateful security they
had not felt through years of war and turmoil.

CHAPTER XX
HOW CIVILISATION WAS SAVED

THE success of the Ku Klux Klan was so com-
plete its organisers were dazed. Its appeal to
the ignorance and superstition of the Negro at
once reduced the race to obedience and order. Its
threat against the scalawag and carpet-bagger struck
terror to their craven souls, and the "Union League,"
" Red Strings" and " Heroes of America" went to pieces
with incredible rapidity.

Major Stuart Dameron, the chief of the Klan in
Campbell County, was holding a conference with the
Reverend John Durham in his study.

"Doctor, our work has succeeded beyond our wildest
dream."

'Yes, and I thank God we can breathe freely if
only for a moment, Major. The danger now lies in
our success. We are necessarily playing with fire."

" I know it, and it requires my time day and night to
prevent reckless men from disgracing us."

"It will not be necessary to enforce the death penalty
against any other man in this county, Major. The
execution of Tim Shelby was absolutely necessary at
the time, and it has been sufficient."

" I agree with you. I've impressed this on the master
of every lodge, but some of them are growing reckless."

"Who are they? "

"Young Allan McLeod for one. He is a daredevil,
and only eighteen years old.

*55

156 The Leopard's Spots

"He's a troublesome boy. I don't seem to have any
influence with him. But I think Mrs. Durham can
manage him. He seems to think a great deal of her,
and in spite of his wild habits he comes regularly to
her Sunday-school class."

"I hope she can bring him to his senses."

"Leave him to me then awhile. We will see what
can be done."

• ••••• •

Hogg's Legislature promptly declared the Scotch-Irish
hill counties in a state of insurrection, passed a militia
bill, and the Governor issued a proclamation suspending
the writ of Habeas Corpus in these counties.

Fearing the effects of Negro militia in the hill districts,
he surprised Hambright by suddenly marching into the
court-house square a regiment of white mountain guer-
rillas recruited from the outlaws of East Tennessee and
commanded by a noted desperado, Colonel Henry
Berry. The regiment had two pieces of field artillery.

It was impossible for them to secure evidence against
any member of the Klan unless by the intimidation of
■some coward who could be made to confess. Not a dis-
guise had ever been penetrated. It was the rule of the
order for its decrees to be executed in the district issuing
the decree by the lodge farthest removed in the county
from the scene. In this way not a man or a horse was
ever identified.

The Colonel made an easy solution of this difficulty,
however. Acting under instructions from Governor
Hogg, he secured from Haley and Perkins a list of every
influential man in every precinct in the county, and a
list of possible turncoats and cowards. He detailed
five hundred of his men to make arrests, distributed them
thoroughout the county, and arrested without warrants
more than two hundred citizens in one day.

How Civilisation Was Saved 157

The next day Berry handcuffed together the Reverend
John Durham and Major Dameron, and led them,
escorted by a company of cavalry, on a grand circuit
of the county, that the people might be terrified by
the sight of their chains. An ominous silence greeted
them on every hand. Additional arrests were made
by this troop, and twenty-five more prisoners were
led into Hambright the next day.

The jail was crowded, and the court-house was used
as a jail. More than a hundred and fifty men were
confined in the court-room. Reverend John Durham
was everywhere among the crowd, laughing, joking
and cheering the men.

"Major Dameron, a jail never held so many honest
men before," he said with a smile, as he looked over
the crowd of his church members gathered from every
quarter of the county.

"Well, Doctor, you've got a quorum here of your
church and you can call them to order for business."

"That's a fact, isn't it?"

"There's old Deacon Kline over there, who looks-
like he wishes he hadn't come."

The Preacher walked over to the Deacon.

"What's the matter, Brother Kline; you look
pensive?"

The Deacon laughed. "Yes, I don't like my bed.
I'm used to feathers."

"Well, they say they are going to give you feathers
mixed with tar, so you won't lose them so easily."

"I'll have company, I reckon," said the Deacon,
with a wink.

"The funny thing, Deacon, is that Major Dameron
tells me there isn't a man in all the crowd of two hundred
and fifty arrested who ever went on a raid. It's too bad
you old fellows have to pay for the follies of youth.'*

158 The Leopard's Spots

"It is tough. But we can stand it, Preacher."
They clasped hands.

"Haven't smelled a coward anywhere, have you,
Deacon? "

"I've seen one or two a little fidgety, I thought.
Cheer 'em up with a word, Preacher."

Springing on the platform of the judge's desk, he
looked over the crowd for a moment, and a cheer shook
the building.

"Boys, I don't believe there's a single coward in our
ranks." Another cheer.

"Just keep cool now and let our enemies do the talk-
ing. In ten days every man of you will be back at
home at his work."

"How will we get out with the writ suspended?"
asked the man standing near.

"That's the richest thing of all. A United States judge
has just decided that the Governor of the state cannot
suspend the rights of a citizen of the United States
under the new Fourteenth Amendment to the Consti-
tution so recently rammed down our throats. Hogg is
hoisted on his own petard. Our lawyers are now serving
out writs of Habeas Corpus before this Federal judge
under the Fourteenth Amendment, and you will be dis-
charged in less than ten days unless there's a skunk
among you. And I don't smell one anywhere." Again
a cheer shook the building.

An orderly walked up to the Preacher and handed
him a note.

"What is it?"

"Read it!" The men crowded around.

"Read it, Major Dameron; I'm dumb!" said the
Preacher.

"A military order from the dirty rascal, Berry,
commanding the mountain bummers, forbidding the

How Civilisation Was Saved 159

Reverend John Durham to speak during his imprison-
ment."

A roar of laughter followed this announcement.

"That's cruel. It'll kill him!" cried Deacon Kline,
as he jabbed the Preacher in the ribs.

In a few minutes the Preacher was back in his place
with five of the best singers from his church by his side.
He began to sing the old hymns of Zion and every man
in the room joined until the building quivered with
melody.

''Now a good old Yankee hymn that suits this hour,
written by an old Baptist preacher I met in Boston the
other day," cried the Preacher.

"My country 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing."

Heavens, how they sang it, while the Preacher lined
it off, stood above them beating time, and led in a
clear, mighty voice ! Again the orderly appeared with
a note.

"What is it now?" they cried on every side.

Again Major Dameron announced "Military Order
No. 2, forbidding the Reverend John Durham to sing or
induce anybody to sing while in prison."

Another roar of laughter that broke into a cheer
which made the glass rattle. When the soldier had
disappeared, the Reverend John Durham ascended the
platform, looked about him with a humourous twinkle
in his eye, straightened himself to his full height and
crowed like a rooster! A cheer shook the building
to its foundations. Roar after roar of its defiant cadence
swept across the square and made Haley and Perkins
tremble as they looked at each other over their con-
ference table with Berry.

160 The Leopard's Spots

"What the devil's the matter now?" cried Haley.

"Do you suppose it's a rescue?" whispered Perkins.

"No, it's some new trick of that damned Preacher.
I'll chain him in a room to himself," growled Berry.

"Better not, Colonel. He's the pet of these white
devils. Ye'd better let him alone." Berry accepted
the advice.

Five days later the prisoners were arraigned before
the United States judge, Preston Rivers, at Independ-
ence. Not a scrap of evidence could be produced
against them. Governor Hogg was present with a
flaming military escort. He held a stormy interview
with Judge Rivers.

"If you discharge these prisoners you destroy the
government of this state, sir ! " thundered Hogg.

"Are they not citizens of the United States? Does
not the Fourteenth Amendment apply to a white man
as well as a Negro? " quietly asked the Judge.

"Yes, but they are conspirators against the Union.
They are murderers and felons."

"Then prove it in my court and I'll hand them
back to you. They are entitled to a trial, under our
Constitution."

"I'll demand your removal by the President,"
shouted Hogg.

"Get out of this room, or I'll remove you with the
point of my boot ! " growled the Judge, with rising
wrath. "You have suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus
to win a political campaign. The Ku Klux Klan has
broken up your Leagues. You are fighting for your
life. But I'll tell you now, you can't suspend the
Constitution of the United States while I'm a Federal
judge in this state. I'm not a henchman of yours to do
your dirty campaign work. The election is but ten days
off. Your scheme is plain enough. But if you want

How Civilisation Was Saved 161

to keep these men in prison it will be done on sworn
evidence of guilt and a warrant, not on your personal
whim."

The Governor cursed, raved and threatened in vain.
Judge Rivers discharged every prisoner and warned
Colonel Berry against the repetition of such arrests
within his jurisdiction.

When these prisoners were discharged, a great mass-
meeting was called to give them a reception in the
public square of Independence. A platform was hastily
built in the square, and that night five thousand excited
people crowded past the stand, shook hands with the
men and cheered till they were hoarse. The Governor
watched the demonstration in helpless fury from his
room in the hotel.

The speaking began at nine o'clock. Every discord-
ant element of the old South 's furious political passions
was now melted into harmonious unity. Whig and
Democrat, who had fought one another with relentless
hatred, sat side by side on that platform. Secessionist
and Unionist now clasped hands. It was a White
Man's Party, and against it stood in solid array the
Black Man's Party, led by Simon Legree.

Henceforth there could be but one issue — Are you a
White Man or a Negro?

They declared there was but one question to be
settled :

" Sliall the future American be an Anglo-Saxon or a
Mulatto? "

These determined, impassioned men believed that
this question was more important than any theory of
tariff or finance, and that it was larger than the
South or even the nation, and held in its solution the
brightest hopes of the progress of the human race.
And they believed that they were ordained of

1 62 The Leopard's Spots

God in this crisis to give this question its first authori-
tative answer.

The state burst into a flame of excitement that fused
in its white heat the whole Anglo-Saxon race.

In vain Hogg marched and countermarched his
twenty thousand state troops. They only added fuel to
the fire. If they arrested a man, he became forthwith a
hero and was given an ovation. They sent bands of
music and played at the jail doors, and the ladies filled
the jail with every delicacy that could tempt the appetite
or appeal to the senses.

Hogg and Legree were in a panic of fear with the
certainty of defeat, exposure and a felon's cell yawning
before them.

Two days before the election the prayer-meeting
was held at eight o'clock in the Baptist church at
Hambright. It was the usual midweek service, but the
attendance was unusually large.

After the meeting the Preacher, Major Damercn
and eleven men quietly walked back to the church and
assembled in the pastor's study. The door opened
at the rear of the church, and could be approached by
a side street.

"Gentlemen," said Major Dameron, "I've asked you
here to-night to deliver to you the most important order
I have ever given, and to have Doctor Durham as our
chaplain to aid me in impressing on you its great
urgency/'

"We're ready for orders, Chief," said young Ambrose
Kline, the Deacon's son.

"You are to call out every troop of the Klan in full
force the night before election. You are to visit every
Negro in the county and warn every one, as he values
his life, not to approach the polls at this election. Those
who come will be allowed to vote without molestation*

How Civilisation Was Saved 163

All cowards will stay at home. Any man, black or
white, who can be scared out of his ballot is not fit to
have one. Back of every ballot is the red blood of the
man that votes. The ballot is force. This is simply a
test of manhood. It will be enough to show who is fit
to rule the state. As the masters of the eleven town-
ship lodges of the Klan, you are the sole guardians of
society to-day. When a civilised government has been
restored your work will be done.''

44 We will do it, sir! " cried Kline.

"Let me say, men," said the Preacher, "that I
heartily indorse the plan of }~our chief. See that the
work is done thoroughly and it will be done for all
time. In a sense this is fraud, but it is the fraud of
war. The spy is a fraud, but we must use him when
we fight. Is war justifiable ?

"It is too late now for us to discuss that question.
We are in a war the most ghastly and helhsh ever
waged — a war on women and children, the starving
and the wounded, and that with sharpened swords.
The Turk and Saracen once waged such a war. We
must face it and fight it out. Shall we flinch ?"

"No! No! " came the passionate answer from every
man.

"You are asked to violate for a moment a statutory
law. There is a higher law. You are the sworn officers
of that higher law."

The group of leaders left the church with enthusiasm,
and on the following night they carried out their
instructions to the letter.

The election was remarkably quiet. Thousands of
soldiers were used at the polls by Hogg's orders. But
they seemed to make no impression on the determined
men who marched up between their files and put the
ballots in the box.

164 The Leopard's Spots

Legree's ticket was buried beneath an avalanche.
The new "Conservative" party carried every county
in the state save twelve, and elected one hundred and
six members of the new Legislature out of a total of one
hundred and twenty.

The next day hundreds of carpet-bagger thieves fled
to the North, and Legree led the procession.

Legree had on deposit in New York two millions of
dollars, and the total amount of his part of the thefts
he had engineered reached five millions. He opened
an office on Wall Street, bought a seat in the Stock
Exchange, and became one of the most daring and
successful of a group of robbers who preyed on the
industries of the nation.

The new Legislature appointed a fraud commission
which uncovered the infamies of the Legree regime, but
every thief had escaped. They promptly impeached
the Governor and removed him from office, and the
old commonwealth once more lifted up her head and
took her place in the ranks of civilised communities.

CHAPTER XXI
THE OLD AND THE NEW NEGRO

NELSE was elated over the defeat and dissolution
of the Leagues that had persecuted him with
such malignant hatred. When the news of the
election came he was still in bed suffering from his
wounds. He had received an internal injury that
threatened to prove fatal.

"Dar now!" he cried, sitting up in bed. "Ain't I
done tole you no kinky-headed niggers gwine ter run
dis gov'ment."

"Keep still, dar, ole man; you'll be faintin' ergin,"
worried Aunt Eve.

"Na, honey; I'se feelin' better. Gwine ter git up and
meander downtown en ax dem niggers how's de Ku
Kluxes comin' on dese days."

In spite of all Eve could say, he crawled out of bed,
fumbled in his clothes, and started downtown, leaning
heavily on his cane. He had gone about a block when
he suddenly reeled and fell. Eve was watching him
from the door and was quickly by his side. He died
that afternoon at three o'clock. He regained conscious-
ness before the end and asked Eve for his banjo.

He put it lovingly into the hands of Charlie Gaston,
who stood by the bed crying.

11 You keep 'er, honey. You lub 'er talk better 'n any-
body in de worl', en 'member Nelse when you hear 'er
moan an* sigh. En when she talk short en sassy en

165

1 66 The Leopard's Spots

make 'em all gin ter shuffle, dat's me, too. Dat's me
got back in 'er.M

Charlie Gaston rode with Aunt Eve to the cemetery.
He walked back home throrch the fields with Dick.

"I wouldn' cry 'bout er ole nigger ! " said Dick, look-
ing into his reddened eyes.

"Can't help it. He was my best friend."

"Hain't I wid you?"

"Yes, but you ain't Nelse."

"Well, I stan' by you des de same."

CHAPTER XXII
THE DANGER OF PLAYKNG WlfH FIRE

THE following Saturday the Reverend John
Durham preached at a cross-roads schoolhouse
in the woods about ten miles from Hambright.
He preached every Saturday in the year at such a mis-
sion station. He was fond of taking Charlie with him
on these trips. There was an unusually large crowd in
attendance, and the Preacher was much pleased at this
evidence of interest. It had been a hard community
to impress. At the close of the services, while the
Preacher was shaking hands with the people, Charlie
elbowed his way rapidly among the throng to his side.

"Doctor, there's a nigger man out at the buggy says
he wants to see you quick," he whispered.

"All right, Charlie; in a minute."

"Says to come right now. It's a matter of life and
death, and he don't want to come into the crowd."

A troubled look flashed over the Preacher's face and
he hastily followed the boy, fearing now a sinister
meaning to his great crowd.

"Preacher," said the Negro, looking timidly around,
"de Ku Klux is gwine ter kill ole Uncle Rufus Latti-
more ter-night. I come ter see ef you can't save him.
He aint done nuthin' in God's worl' 'cept he wouldn'
pull his waggin clear outen de road one day fur dat red*
headed Allan McLeod ter pass, en he cussed 'im black
and blue en tole 'im he gwine git eben wid 'im."

"How do you know this? "

167

1 68 The Leopard's Spots

"I wuz huntin' in de woods en hear a racket en clim*
er tree. En de Ku Kluxes had der meetin' right under
de tree. En I hear ev'ry word."

"Who was leading the crowd?"

"Dat Allan McLeod en Hose Norman."

"Where are they going to meet?"

"Right at de cross-roads here at de schoolhouse at
midnight. Dey sont er man atter plenty er licker en
'ley gwine ter git drunk fust. I was erfeered ter come
ter de meetin * case I see er lot er de boys in de crowd.
Fur de Lawd sake, Preacher, do save de ole man. He
des es harmless ez er chile. En I'm gwine ter marry
his gal, en she des plum crazy. We'se got five men
ter fight fur 'im, but I spec dey kill 'em all ef you can't
he'p us."

"Are you one of General Worth's Negroes? "

"Yassir. I run erway up here, 'bout dat Free'men's
Bureau trick dey put me up ter, but I'se larned better
sense now. ' '

"Well, Sam, you go to Uncle Rufus and tell him not
to be afraid. I'll stop this business before night."

The Negro stepped into the woods and disappeared.

"Charlie, we must hurry," said the Preacher, springing
in his buggy. He was driving a beautiful bay mare, a
gift from a Kentucky friend. Her sleek, glistening
skin and big round veins showed her fine blood.

"Well, Nancy, it's your life now or a man's, or
maybe a dozen. You must take us to Hambright in
fifty minutes over these rough hills ! " cried the
Preacher. And he gave her the reins.

The mare bounded forward with a rush that sent four
spinning circles of sand and dust from each wheel.
She had seldom felt the lines slacken across her beautiful
back except in some great emergency. She swung
past buggies and wagons without a pause. The people

The Danger of Playing with Fire 169

wondered why the Preacher was in such a hurry. Over
long sand stretches of heavy road the mare flew in a
cloud of dust. The Preacher's lips were, firmly set
and a scowl on his brow. They had made five miles
without slacking up.

The mare was now a mass of white foam, her big-
veined nostrils wide open and quivering, and her eyes
flashing with the fire of proud ancestry. The slackened
lines on her back seemed to her an insufferable insult.

"Doctor, you'll kill Nancy!" pleaded Charlie.

"Can't help it, son; there's a lot of drunken devils,
masquerading as Ku Klux, going to kill a man to-night.
If we can't reach Major Dameron's in time for him to
get a lot of men and stop them there'll be a terrible
tragedy."

On the mare flew, lifting her proud, sensitive head
higher and higher, while her heart beat her foaming
flanks like a trip-hammer. She never slackened her
speed for ten miles, but dashed up to Major Dameron's
gate at sundown, just forty-nine minutes from the time
she started. The Preacher patted her dripping neck.

" Good, Nancy, good ! I believe you've got a soul."

She stood with her head still high, pawing the ground.

" Major Dameron, I've driven my, mare here at a
killing speed to tell you that young McLeod and Hose
Norman have a crowd of desperadoes organised to kill
old Rufus Lattimore to-night. You must get enough
men together and get there in time to stop them.
Sam Worth overheard their plot, knows every one of
them, and there will be a battle if they attempt it."

"My God!" exclaimed the Major.

"You haven't a minute to spare. They are already
loading up on moonshine whisky."

"Doctor Durham, this is the end of the Ku Klux
Klan in this county. I'll break up every lodge in the

170 The Leopard's Spots

next forty-eight hours. It's too easy for vicious men
to abuse it. Its power is too great. Besides, its work
is done."

11 1 was just going to ask you to take that step, Major.
And now, for God's sake, get there in time to-night.
I'd go with you, but my mare can't stand it."

"I'll be there on time — never fear," replied the
Major, springing on his horse, already saddled at the
door.

The Preacher drove slowly to his home, the mare
pulling steadily on her lines. She walked proudly into
her stable lot, her head high and fine eyes flashing,
reeled and fell dead in the shafts. The Preacher
couldn't keep back the tears. He called Dick and
left him and Charlie the sorrowful task of taking off
her harness. He hurried into the house and shut
himself up in his study.

That night when the crowd of young toughs assembled
at their rendezvous it was barely ten o'clock.

Suddenly a pistol shot rang from behind the school-
house, and before McLeod and his crowd knew what
had happened fifty white horsemen wheeled into a
circle about them. They were completely surprised
and cowed.

Major Dameron rode up to McLeod.

"Young man, you are the prisoner of the Chief of the
Ku Klux Klan of Campbell County. Lift your hand
now and I'll hang you in five minutes. You have
forfeited your life by disobedience to my orders. You go
back to Hambright with me under guard. Whether I
execute you depends on the outcome of the next two
days' conferences with the chiefs of the township lodges."

The Major wheeled his horse and rode home. The
next day he ordered every one of the eleven township
chiefs to report in person to him, at different hours the

The Danger of Playing with Fire 171

same day. To each one his message was the same.
He dissolved the order and issued a perpetual injunc-
tion against any division of the Klan ever going on
another raid.

There were only a few who could see the wisdom of
such hasty action. The success had been so marvellous,
their power so absolute, it seemed a pity to throw it all
away. Young Kline especially begged the Major to
postpone his action.

11 It's impossible, Kline. The Klan has done its work.
The carpet-baggers have fled. The state is redeemed
from the infamies of a Negro government, and we have
a clean, economical administration, and we can keep it
so as long as the white people are a unit, without any
secret societies."

"But, Major, we may be needed again."

"I can't assume the responsibility any longer. The
thing is getting beyond my control. The order is full of
wild youngsters and revengeful men. They try to
bring their grudges against neighbours into the order,
and when I refuse to authorise a raid they take their
disguises and go without authority. An archangel
couldn't command such a force."

Within two weeks from the dissolution of the Klan
by its Chief, every lodge had bee'i reorganised. Some
of the older men had dropped out, but more young men
were initiated to take their places. Allan McLeod led
in this work of prompt reorganisation, and was elected
Chief of the county by the younger element, which now
had a large majority.

He at once served notice on Major Dameron, the
former Chief, that if he dared to interfere with his work,
even by opening his mouth in criticism, he would order
a raid and thrash him.

When the Major found this note under his*door one

172 The Leopard's Spots

morning, he read and reread it with increasing wrath.
Springing on his horse, he went in search of McLeod.
He saw him leisurely crossing the street going from the
hotel to the court-house.

Throwing his horse's rein to a passing boy, he walked
rapidly to him and, without a word, boxed his ears as
a father would an impudent child. McLeod was so
astonished, he hesitated for a moment whether to
strike or to run. He did neither, but blushed red and
stammered :

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Read that letter, you young whelp!" The Major
thrust the letter into his hand.

"I know nothing of this."

"You're a liar. You are its author. No other fool
in this county would have conceived it. Now, let me
give you a little notice. I am prepared for you and
your crowd. Call any time. I can whip a hundred
puppies of your breed any time by myself with one
hand tied behind me, and never get a scratch. Dare to
lift your finger against me, or any of the men who refuse
to go with your new fool's movement, and I'll shoot
you on sight as I would a mad dog." Before McLeod
could reply, the Major turned on his heels and left him.

McLeod made no further attempt to molest the
Major, nor did he allow any raids bent on murder. The
sudden authority placed in his hands in a measure
sobered him. He inaugurated a series of petty devil-
tries, whipping Negroes and poor white men against
whom some of his crowd had a grudge, and annoying
the school-teachers of Negro schools.

CHAPTER XXIII
THE BIRTH OF A SCALAWAG

THE overwhelming defeat of their pets in the
South, and the toppling of their houses of paper
built on Negro supremacy, brought to Congress
a sense of guilt and shame that required action. Their
own agents in the South were now in the penitentiary
or in exile for well-established felonies, and the future
looked dark.

They found the scapegoat in these fool later day
Ku Klux marauders. Once more the public square at
Hambright saw the bivouac of the regular troops of
the United States Army. The Preacher saw the glint
of their bayonets with a sense of relief.

With this army came a corps of skilled detectives,
who set to work. All that was necessary was to arrest
and threaten with summary death a coward, and they
got all the information he could give. The jail was
choked with prisoners, and every day saw a squad depart
for the stockade at Independence. Sam Worth gave
information that led to the immediate arrest of Allan
McLeod. He was the first man led into the jail.

The officers had a long conference with him that
lasted four hours.

And then the bottom fell out — a wild stampede of
young men for the West. Somebody who held the
names of every man in the order had proved a traitor.

Every night from hundreds of humble homes might
be heard the choking sobs of a mother saying good-by

173

174 The Leopard's Spots

in the darkness to the last boy the war had left her old
age. When the good-by was said, and the father,
waiting in the buggy at the gate, had called for haste,
and the boy was hurrying out with his gripsack, there
was a moan, the soft rush of the coarse homespun
drees toward the gate, and her arms were around
his neck again.

"I can't let you go, child. Lord have mercy! He's
the last." And the low, pitiful sobs!

"Come, come, now, Ma, we must get away from
here before the officers are after him."

"Just a minute ! "

A kiss, and then another, long and lingering. A sigh,
a smothered cry from a mother's broken heart, and
he was gone.

Thus Texas grew into the Imperial Commonwealth
of the South.

• ••••••

To save appearances, McLeod was removed to Inde-
pendence with the other prisoners, and in a short
time released with a number of others against whom
insignificant charges were lodged.

When he returned to Hambright the people looked
at him with suspicion.

"How is it, young man," asked the Preacher, "that
you are at home so soon, while brave boys are serving
terms in Northern prisons?"

"Had nothing against me/' he replied.

"That's strange, when Sam Worth swore that you
organised the raid to kill Rufe Lattimore."

"They didn't believe him."

"Well, I've an idea that you saved your hide by
puking. I'm not sure yet, but information was given
that only the man in command of the whole county
could have possessed."

The Birth of a Scalawag 175

"There were a half -dozen men who knew as much
as I did. You mustn't think me capable of such a
thing, Doctor Durham ! " protested McLeod, with
heightened colour.

"It's a nasty suspicion. I'd rather see a child of
mine transformed into a cur dog and killed for stealing
sheep than fall to the level of such a man. But only
time will prove the issue."

"I've made up my mind to turn over a new leaf,"
said McLeod. "I'm sick of rowdyism. I'm going to
be a law-abiding, loyal citizen."

"That's just what I'm afraid of!" exclaimed the
Preacher with a sneer, as he turned and left him.

And fears were soon confirmed. Within a month
the Independence Observer contained a despatch from
Washington announcing the appointment of Allan
McLeod as Deputy United States Marshal for the District
of Western North Carolina, together with the infor-
mation that he had renounced his allegiance to his old
disloyal associates and had become an enthusiastic
Republican; and that henceforth he would labour with
might and main to establish peace and further the
industrial progress of the South.

"I knew it. The dirty whelp ! " cried the Preacher,
as he showed the paper to his wife.

" Now don't be too hard on the boy, Doctor Durham,"
urged his wife. "He may be sincere in his change of
politics. You never did like him."

"Sincere! Yes, as the devil is always sincere. He's
dead in earnest now. He's found his level, and his
success is sure. Mark my words, the boy's a villain
from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He
has bartered his soul to save his skin, and the skin is
all that's left."

"I'm sorry to think it. I couldn't help liking him."

176 The Leopard's Spots

"And that's the f tinniest freak I ever knew your
fancy to take, my dear — I never could understand it."

When McLeod had established his office in Hambright,
he made special efforts to allay the suspicions against
his name. His indignant denials of the report of his
treachery convinced many that he had been wronged.
Two men alone maintained toward him an attitude of
contempt, Major Darneron and the Preacher.

He called on Mrs. Durham, and with his smooth
tongue convinced her that he had been foully slandered.
She urged him to win the Doctor. Accordingly he
called to talk the question over with the Preacher and
ask him for a fair chance to build his character untar-
nished in the community.

The Preacher heard him through patiently, but in
silence. Allan was perspiring before he reached the end
of his plausible explanation. It was a tougher task
than he thought, this deliberate lying, under the gaze
of those glowing black eyes that looked out from their
shaggy brows and pierced through his inmost soul.

"You've got an oily tongue. It will carry you a long
way in this world. I can't help admiring the skill
with which you are fast learning to use it. You've
fooled Mrs. Durham with it, but you can't fool me,"
said the Preacher.

" Doctor, I solemnly swear to you that I am not
guilty."

"It's no use to add perjury to plain lying. I know
you did it. I know it as well as if I were present in
that jail and heard you basely betray the men, name
by name, whom you had lured to their ruin."

"Doctor, I swear you are mistaken."

"Don't talk about it. You nauseate me!"

The Preacher sprang to his feet, paced across the
floor, sat down on the edge of his table and glared at

The Birth of a Scalawag 177

McLeod for a moment. And then with his voice low
and quivering with a storm of emotion he said:

"The curse of God upon you — the God of your
fathers ! Your fathers in far off Scotland's hills, who
would have suffered their tongues torn from their heads
and their skin stripped inch by inch from their flesh
sooner than betray one of their clan in distress. You
have betrayed a thousand of your own men, and you
their sworn chieftain. Hell was made to consume
such leper trash I"

McLeod was dazed at first by this outburst. At
length he sprang to his feet, livid with rage.

"Ill not forget this, sir! " he hissed.

"Don't forget it!" cried the Preacher, trembling
with passion as he opened the door. "Go on and live
your lie."

CHAPTER XXIV
A MODERN MIRACLE

MRS. DURHAM, the Doctor wants you," said
Charlie, when McLeod's footfall had died
away.

"Charlie, dear, why don't you call me 'Mamma' —
surely you love me a little wee bit, don't you?" she
asked, taking the boy's hand tenderly in hers.

"Yes'm," he replied, hanging his head.

"Then you say Mamma. You don't know how good
it would be in my ears."

"I try to, but it chokes me," he half whispered,
glancing timidly up at her. "Let me call you Aunt
Margaret. I always wanted an aunt, and I think your
name Margaret's so sweet," he shyly added.

She kissed him and said, "All right, if that's all you
will give me." She passed on into the library where
the Preacher waited her.

"My dear, I've just given young McLeod a piece of
my mind. I wanted to say to you that you are entirely
mistaken in his character. He's a bad egg. I know all
the facts about his treachery. He's as smooth a liar
as I've met in years."

"With all his brute nature, there's some good in
him," she persisted.

"Well, it will stay in him. He will never let it
get out."

"All right, have your way about it for a time.

178

A Modern Miracle 179

We'll see who is right in the long run. Now I've a
more pressing and tougher problem for your solution."

"What is it?"

"Dick."

"What's he done this time? "

"He steals everything lie can get his hands on."

"He is a puzzle."

"He's the greatest liar I ever saw," she continued.
"He simply will not tell the truth if he can think up
a lie in time. I'd say run him off the place but for
Charlie. He seems to love the little scoundrel. I'm
afraid his influence over Charlie will be vicious, but it
would break the child's heart to drive him away.
What shall we do with him? "

The Preacher laughed. "I give it up, my dear; you've
got beyond my depth now. I don't know whether he's
got a soul. Certainly the very rudimentary foundations
of morals seem lacking. I believe you could take a
young ape and teach him quicker. I leave him with
you. At present it's a domestic problem."

"Thanks; that's so encouraging."

Dick was a puzzle and no mistake about it. But to
Charlie his rolling, mischievous eyes, his cunning fingers
and his wayward imagination were unfailing fountains
of life. He found every bird's nest within two miles of
town. He could track a rabbit almost as swiftly and
surely as a hound. He could work like fury when he
had a mind to, and loaf a half day over one row of the
garden when he didn't want to work, which was his
chronic condition.

When the revival season set in for the Negroes in
the summer, the days of sorrow began for householders.
Every Negro in the community became absolutely
worthless and remained so until the emotional insanity
attending their meetings wore off.

180 The Leopard's Spots

Aunt Mary, Mrs. Durham's cook, got salvation over
again every summer with increasing power and increas-
ing degeneration in her work. Some nights she got
home at two o'clock and breakfast was not ready until
nine. Some nights she didn't get home at all and Mrs.
Durham had to get breakfast herself.

It was a hard time for Dick, who had not yet experi-
enced religion, and on whom fell the brunt of the extra
work and Mrs. Durham's fretfulness besides.

"I tell you what less do, Charlie," he cried one day.
"Less go down ter dat nigger chu'ch en bus' up de
meetin' ! I'se gettin' tired er dis."

"How'll you do it?"

"I show you somefin'?" He reached under his
shirt next to his skin and pulled out Doctor Graham's
sun glass.
| "Where'd you get that, Dick?"

" Foun' it whar er man lef it." He walled his eyes
solemnly.

"Des watch here when I turns 'im in de sun. I kin
set dat pile of straw er fire wid it."

"You mustn't set the church afire ! " warned Charlie.

"Naw, chile; but I git up in de gallery, en when ole
Uncle Josh 'gins ter holler en bawl en r'ar en charge, I
fling dat blaze er light right on his bal' haid, en I set him
er fire sho's you bawn."

1 "Dick, I wouldn't do it," said Charlie, laughing in
spite of himself.

Charlie refused to accompany him. But Dick's mind
was set on the necessity of this work of reform. So
in the afternoon he slipped off without leave and
quietly made his way into the gallery of the Negro
Baptist church.

The excitement was running high. Uncle Josh had
preached one sermon an hour in length, and had called

A Modern Miracle 181

up the mourners. At least fifty had come forward.
The benches had been cleared for five rows back from
the pulpit to give plenty of room for the mourners
to crawl over the floor, walk back and forth and shout
when they " came through," and for their friends to
fan them.

This open place was covered with wheat straw to
keep the mourners off the bare floor and afford some
sort of comfort for those far advanced in mourning,
who went into trances and sometimes lay motionless
for hours on their backs or flat on their faces.

The mourners had kicked and shuffled this straw out
to the edges and the floor was bare. Uncle Josh had
sent two deacons out for more straw.

In the meantime he was working himself up to
another mighty climax of exhortation to move sinners
to come forward.

"Come on ter glory, you po', po' sinners, en flee ter de
Lamb er God befo' de flames er hell swaller you whole !
At de last great day de Spent '11 flash de light er his
shinin' face on dis ole parch up, sinful worl', en hit '11
ketch er fire in er minute, an' de yearth '11 melt wid
furvient heat ! Wha '11 you be den, po' tremblin' sinner ?
Whar '11 you be when de flame er de Sperit smites de
moon and de stars wid fire, en dey 'gin ter drap out en
de sky en knock big holes in de burnin' yearth ? Whar
'11 you be when de rocks melt wid dat heat, en de sun
hide his face in de black smoke dat rise fum de pit ?"

Moans and groans and shrieks, louder and louder, filled
the air. Uncle Josh paused a moment and looked for
his deacons with the straw. They were just coming
up the steps with a great armful over their heads.

" What's de matter wid you breddern ! Fetch on tha*;
wheat straw! Here's dese tremblin' souls gwine down
inter de flames er hell des fur de lak er wheat straw ! "

1 82 The Leopard's Spots

The brethren hurried forward with the wheat straw,
and just as they reached Uncle Josh, standing perspiring
in the midst of his groaning mourners, Dick flashed from
the gallery a stream of dazzling light on the old man's
face and held it steadily on his bald head. Josh was too
astonished to move at first. He was simply paralysed
with fear. It is all right to talk about the flame of
the Spirit, but he wasn't exactly ready to run into it.
Suddenly he clapped his hands on the top of his head
and sprang straight up in the air, yelling in a plain,
e very-day profane voice.

" God-der-mighty ! What's dat ? "

The brethren holding the straw saw it and stood
dumb with terror. The light disappeared from Uncle
Josh's head and lit the straw in splendour on one of the
deacon's shoulders. Aunt Mary's voice was heard
above the mourners' din, clear, shrill and soul-piercing.

"G-1-o-r-y! G-1-o-r-y ter God! De flame er de
Sperit ! De judgment day! Yas, Lawd, I'se here!
Glory! Halleluyah!"

Suddenly the straw on the deacon's back burst into
flames. And pandemonium broke loose. A weak-
minded sinner screamed. " De flames er Hell ! "

The mourners smelled the smoke and sprang from
the floor with white staring eyes. When they saw the
fire and got their bearings they made for the open —
they jumped on each other's back and made for the
door like madmen. Those nearest the windows sprang
through, and when the lower part of the window was
jammed, big buck Negroes jumped on the backs of the
lower crowd and plunged through the two upper sashes
with a crash that added new terror to the panic.

In two minutes the church was empty and the yard
full of crazy, shouting Negroes.

Dick stepped from the gallery into the crowd as the

A Modern Miracle 183

last ones emerged, ran up to the pulpit and stamped
out the fire in the straw with his bare feet. He
looked around to see if they had left anything valuable
behind in the stampede, and sauntered leisurely out of
the church.

"Now, dog-gone 'em, let 'em yell! " he muttered to
himself.

"When Uncle Josh sufficiently recovered his senses
to think, and saw the church still standing, with not
even a whiff of smoke to be seen, instead of the roaring
furnace he had expected, he was amazed. He called
his scattered deacons together and they went cautiously
back to investigate.

"Hit's no use in talkin', Bre'r Josh, dey sho' wuz er
fire ! " cried one of the deacons.

"Sho's de Lawd's in heaben. I feel it gittin' on my
fingers 'fo' I drap dat straw," said another.

"Hit smite me fust right on top er my haid," whis-
pered Uncle Josh in awe.

They cautiously approached the pulpit, and there in
front of it lay the charred fragments of the burned
straw pile.

They gathered around it in awestruck wonder. One
of them touched it with his foot.

"Doan' do dat!" cried Uncle Josh, lifting his hand
with authority.

They drew back. Uncle Josh saw the immense power
in that heap of charred straw. Some of it was a little
damp and it had been only partly burned.

"Dar's de mericle er de Sperit !" he solemnly
declared.

"Yas, Lawd!" echoed a deacon.

"Fetch de hammer, en de saw, en de nails, en de
boards, en build right dar en altar ter de Sperit," were
his prophetic commands.

1 84 The Leopard's Spots

And they did. They got an old show-case of glass,
put the charred straw in it, and built an open box- work
around it just where it fell in front of the pulpit.

Then a revival broke out that completely paralysed
the industries of Campbell County. Every Negro
stopped work and went to that church. Uncle Josh
didn't have to preach or to plead. They came in troops
toward the magic altar, whose fame and mystery had
thrilled every superstitious soul with its power. The
benches were all moved out and the whole church floor
given up to mourners. Uncle Josh had an easy time
walking around, just adding a few terrifying hints
to trembling sinners, or helping to hold some strong
sister when she had "come through," with so
much glory in her bones that there was danger she
would hurt somebody.

After a week the matter became so serious that the
white people set in motion an investigation of the affair.
Dick had thrown out a mysterious hint that he knew
some things that were very funny.

"Doan' you tell nobody!" he would solemnly say to
Charlie.

And then he would lie down on the grass and roll and
laugh. At length by dint of perseverance, and a bribe
of a quarter, the Preacher induced Dick to explain the
mystery. He did, and it broke up the meeting.

Uncle Josh's fury knew no bounds. He was heart-
broken at the sudden collapse of his revival, chagrined at
the recollection of his own terror at the fire, and fearful
of an avalanche of backsliders from the meeting among
those who had professed even with the greatest glory.

He demanded that the Preacher should turn Dick
over to him for correction. The Preacher took a few
hours to consider whether he should whip him himself
w turn him over to Uncle Josh. Dick heard Uncle

A Modern Miracle 185

Josh's demand. Out behind the stable he and Charlie
held a council of war.

"You go see Miss Mar'get fur me en git up close to
her, en tell her 'tain't right ter 'low no low-down
black nigger ter whip me."

"All right, Dick, I will," agreed Charlie.

11 'Case ef ole Josh beats me I gwine ter run away. I
nebber git ober dat."

Dick had threatened to run away often before when
he wanted to force Charlie to do something for him.
Once he had gone a mile out of town with his clothes
tied in a bundle, and Charlie trudging after him begging
him not to leave.

The boy did his best to save Dick the humiliation of a
whipping at the hands of Uncle Josh, but in vain.

When Uncle Josh led him out to the stable lot his
face was not pleasant to look upon. There was a
dangerous gleam in Dick's eye that boded no good to
his enemy.

"You imp er de debbil!" exclaimed Uncle Josh,
shaking his switch with unction.

"I fool you good enough, you ole bal'headed ape!"
answered Dick, gritting his teeth defiantly.

"I make you sing enudder chune 'fo' I'se done
wid you."

"En' if you does, nigger, you know what I gwine do
fur you?" cried Dick, rolling his eyes up at his enemy.

"What kin you do, honey?" asked Uncle Josh,
humouring his victim now with the evident relish of a
cat before his meal on a mouse.

"Ef you hits me hard, I gwine ter burn yo' house
down on yo' haid some night en run erway des es sho'
es I kin stick er match to it," said Dick.

"You is, is you?" thundered Josh with wrath.

"Dat I is. En' I burn yo' ole chu'ch de same night."

1 86 The Leopard's Spots

Uncle Josh was silent a moment. Dick's word had
chilled his heart. He was afraid of him, but he was
afraid to back down from what was now evidently his
duty. So without further words he whipped him. Yet
to save his life he could not hit him as hard as he
thought he deserved.

That night Dick disappeared from Hambright, and
for weeks every evening at dusk the wistful face of
Charlie Gaston could be seen on the big hill to the
south of town vainly watching for somebody. He would
always take something to eat in his pockets, and when
he gave up his vigil he would place the food under a
big shelving rock where they had often played together.
But the birds and ground squirrels ate it. He would
slip back the next day, hoping to see Dick jump out of
the cave and surprise him.

And then at last he gave it up, sat down under the
rock and cried. He knew Dick would grow to be a man
somewhere out in the big world and never come back.

LOVE'S DREAM

IBook Ctoo— JLotoe'0 Dream

CHAPTER I
[ BLUE EYES AND BLACK HAIR

SHE'S coming next month, Charlie," said Mrs.
Durham, looking up from a letter.
"Who is it now, Auntie — another divinity
with which you are going to overwhelm me?" asked
Gaston, smiling, as he laid his book down and leaned
back in his chair.

"Some one I've been telling you about for the
last month."

"Which one?"

" Oh, you wretch ! You don't think about anything
except your books. I've been dinning that girl's praises
into your ears for fully five weeks, and you look at me
in that innocent way and ask which one?"

"Honestly, Aunt Margaret, you're always telling me
about some beautiful girl. I get them mixed. And then
when I see them they don't come up to the advance
notices you've sent out. To tell you the truth, you are
such a beautiful woman, and I've got so used to your
standard, the girls can't measure up to it."

"You flatterer. A woman of forty-two a standard
of beauty ! Well, it's sweet to hear you say it, you
handsome young rascal."

"It's the honest truth. You are one of the women
who never show the addition of a year. You have
spoiled my eyesight for ordinary girls."

189

190 The Leopard's Spots

" Hush, sir; you don't dare to talk to any girl like you
talk to me. They all say you're afraid of them."

"Well, I am, in a sense. I've been disappointed so
many times."

"Oh, you'll find her yet ! And when you do "

"What do you think will happen?"

"I'm certain you will be the biggest fool in the state."

"That will make it nice for the girl, won't it?"

"Yes; and I shall enjoy your antics. You who have
dissected love with your brutal German philosophy, and
found every girl's faults with such ease — it will be fun
to watch you flounder in the meshes at last."

"Auntie, seriously, it will be the happiest day of my
life. For four years my dreams have been growing more
and more impossible. Who is this one?"

"She is the most beautiful girl I know, and the
brightest and the best, and if she gets hold of you she
will clip your wings and bring you down to earth. I'll
watch you with interest," said Mrs. Durham, looking
over the letter again and laughing.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Just a little joke she gets off in this letter.

"But who is she? You haven't told me."

"I did tell you — she's General Worth's daughter,
Miss Sallie. She writes she is coming up to spend a
month at the Springs, with her friend Helen Lowell, of
Boston, and wants me to corral all the young men in the
community and have them fed and in fine condition
for work when they arrive."

"She evidently intends to have a good time."

"Yes; and she will."

"Fortunately my law practice is not rushing me at
this season. My total receipts for June last year were
two dollars and twenty-five cents. It will hardly go
over two fifty this year."

Blue Eyes and Black Hair 191

"I've told her you're a rising young lawyer."

"I have plenty of room to rise, Auntie. If you will
just keep on letting me board with you I hope to work
my practice up to ten dollars a month in the course
of time."

" Don't you want to hear something about Miss
Sallie?"

"Of course; I was just going to ask you if she's as
homely as that last one you tried to get off on me."

" I've told you she's a beauty. She made a sensation
at her finishing school in Baltimore. It's funny that she
was there the last year you were at the Johns Hopkins
University. She's the belle of Independence, rich,
petted, and the only child of eld General Worth, who
thinks the sun rises and sets in her pretty blue eyes."

"So she has blue eyes?"

"Yes, blue eyes and black hair."

"What a funny combination ! I never saw a girl with
blue eyes and black hair."

"It's often seen in the far South. I expect you to be
drowned in those blue eyes. They are big, round and
childlike, and look out of their black lashes as though
surprised at their dark setting. This contrast accents
their dreamy beauty, and her eyes seem to swim in a
dim blue mist like the point where the sea and sky meet
on the horizon far out on the ocean. She is bright,
witty, romantic and full of coquetry. She is determined
to live her girl's life to its full limit. She is fond of
society and dances divinely."

"That's bad. I never even cut the pigeon 's-wing in
my life — and I'm too old to learn."

"She has a full, queenly figure, small hands and feet,
delicate wrists, a dimple in one cheek only, and a
mass of brown-black hair that curls when it's going
to rain."

192 The Leopard's Spots

"That's fine; we wouldn't need a barometer on life's
voyage, would we?"

"No; but you will be looking for a pilot and a harbour
before you've known her a month. Her upper lip is a
little fuller and projects slightly over the lower, and they
are both beautifully fluted and curved like the petals of
a flower, which makes the most tantalising mouth — a
standing challenge for a kiss."

"Auntie, you're joking. You never saw such a
girl. You're breaking into my heart, stealing glances
at my ideal."

"All right, sir; wait and see for yourself. She has
pretty shell-like ears; her laughter is full, contagious,
and like music. She plays divinely on the piano, can't
sing a note, but dresses to kill. You might as well
wind up your affairs and get ready for the first serious
work of your life. You will have your hands full after
you see her."

"But did I understand you to say she's rich?"

"Yes; they say her father is worth half a million."

"Do you think she could be interested in the poor in
this county?"

"Yes; she doesn't seem to know she's an heiress. Her
father, the General, is a deacon in the Baptist church
at Independence, and hates dudes and fops with all
his old-fashioned soul. His idea of a man is cne of
character and the capacity of achievement, not merely
a possessor of money. Still, I imagine he is going to
give any man trouble who tries to take his daughter
away from him."

"I'm afraid that money lets me out of the race."

"Nothing of the sort; when you see her you will never
allow a little thing like that to worry you."

"It's not her dollars that will worry me. It's the
fact that she's got them and I haven't. But, anyhow,

Blue Eyes and Black Hair 193

Auntie, from your description you can book me for one
night at least."

"I'm going to book you for her lackey, her slave,
devoted to her every whim while she's here. One
night — the idea!"

"Auntie, you're too generous to others. I've no
notion all this rigmarole about your Miss Sallie Worth is
true. But I'll do anything to please you."

"Very well; I'll see whom you will be trying to
please later."

"I must go," said Gaston, hastily rising. "I have an
engagement to discuss the coming political campaign
with the Honourable Allan McLeod, the present Repub-
lican boss of the state."

"I didn't know yo\i hobnobbed with the enemy."

"I don't. But as far as I can understand him, he
purposes to take me up on an exceeding high mountain
and offer me the world and the fulness thereof. We all
like to be tempted, whether we fall or not. The Doctor
hates McLeod. I think he holds some grudge against
him. What do you think of him, Auntie? He swears
by you. I used to dislike him as a boy, but he seems a
pretty decent sort of fellow now, and I can't help liking
just a little anybody who loves you. I confess he has
a fascination for me."

"Why do you ask my opinion of him?" slowly asked
Mrs. Durham.

" Because I'm not quite sure of his honesty. He talks
fairly, but there's something about him that casts a
doubt over his fairest words. He says he has the most
important proposition of my life to place before me
to-day, and I'm at a loss how to meet him — whether as
a well-meaning friend or a scheming scoundrel. He's a
puzzle to me."

"Well, Charlie, I don't mind telling you that he is a

194 The Leopard's Spots

puzzle to me. I've always been strangely attracted to
him, even when he was a big red-headed brute of a boy.
The Doctor always disliked him and, I thought, mis-
judged him. He has always paid me the supremest
deference, and of late years the most subtle flattery.
No woman who feels her life a failure, as I do mine,
can be indifferent to such a compliment from a man of
trained mind and masterful character. This is a sore
subject between the Doctor and myself. And when I
see him shaking hands a little too lingeringly with
admiring sisters after his services I repay him with a
chat with my devoted McLeod. Don't ask me. I like
him and I don't like him. I admire him and at the
same time I suspect and half fear him."

"Strange we feel so much alike about him. But
your heart has always been very close to mine, since
you slipped your arm around me that night my mother
died. I know about what he will say, and I know
about what I'll do." He stooped and kissed his foster-
mother tenderly.

"Charlie, I'm in earnest about my pretty girl that's
coming. Don't forget it."

"Bah! You've fooled me before."

CHAPTER II
THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER

McLEOD was waiting with some impatience in
his room at the hotel.
"Walk in, Gaston; you're a little late.
However, better late than never." McLeod plunged
directly into the purpose of his visit.

"Gaston, you're a man of brains and oratorical
genius. I heard your speech in the last Democratic
convention in Raleigh, and — I don't say it to flatter
you — that was the greatest speech made in any
assembly in this state since the war."

"Thanks," said Gaston, with a wave of his arm.

" I mean it. You know too much to be in sympathy
with the old mossbacks who are now running this state.
For fourteen years the South has marched to the polls
and struck blindly at the Republican party, and three
times it struck to kill. The Southern people have
nothing in common with these Northern Democrats
who make your platforms and nominate your candidate.
You don't ask anything about the platform or the man.
You would vote for the devil if the Democrats nominated
him, and ask no questions; and what infuriates me is
you vote to enforce platforms that mean economic ruin
to the South."

"Man shall not live by bread alone, McLeod."

"Sure; but he can't live on dead men's bones. You
vote in solid mass on the Negro question, which you
settle by the power of Anglo-Saxon insolence when
you destroy the Reconstruction governments at a blow.

195

j go The Leopard's Spots

Why should you keep on voting against every interest
of the South, merely because you hate the name
Republican?"

1 ' Why ? Simply because so long as the Negro is here
with a ballot in his hands he is a menace to civilisation.
The Republican party placed him here. The name
Republican will stink in the South for a century, not
because they beat us in war, but because two years after
the war, in profound peace, they inaugurated a second
war on the unarmed people of the South, butchering the
starving, the wounded, the women and children. God
in heaven, will I ever forget that day they murdered my
mother ! Their attempt to establish with the bayonet
an African barbarism on the ruins of Southern society
was a conspiracy against human progress. It was the
blackest crime of the nineteenth century."

"You are talking in a dead language. We are living
in a new world."

"But principles are eternal."

"Principles? I'm not talking about principles. I'm
talking about practical politics. The people down here
haven't voted on a principle in years. They've been
voting on old Simon Legree. He left the state nearly a
quarter of a century ago."

"Yes, McLeod, but his soul has gone marching on.
The Republican party fought the South because such
men as Legree lived in it, and abused the Negroes, and
the moment they won, turn and make Legree and his
breed their pets. Simon Legree is more than a mere man
who stole five millions of dollars, alienated the races,
and covered the South with the desolation of anarchy,
He is an idea. He represents everything that the soul
of the South loathes and that the Republican party
has tried to ram down our throats — Negro supremacy
in politics and Negro equality in society,"

The Voice of the Tempter 197

"You are talking about the dead past, Gaston. I'm
surprised at a man of your brain living under such a
delusion. How can there be Negro supremacy when
they are in a minority?"

"Supremacy under a party system is always held by
a minority. The dominant faction of a party rules the
party, and the successful party rules the state. If the
Negro only numbered one-fifth the population and they
all belonged to one party, they could dictate the policy
of that party."

"You know that a few white brains really rule that
black mob."

"Yes; but the black mob defines the limits within
which you live and have your being."

"Gaston, the time has come to shake off this night*
mare and face the issues of our day and generation*
We are going to win in this campaign, but I want you..
I like you. You are the kind of man we need now
to take the field and lead in this campaign."

"How are you going to win?"

"We are going to form a contract with the Farmersv
Alliance and break the backbone of the Bourbon Democ-
racy of the South. The farmers have now a compact
body of 50,000 voters, thoroughly organised, and com*
bined with the Negro vote we can hold this state until
Gabriel blows his trumpet."

"That's a pretty scheme. Our farmers are crazy
now with every variety of fool ideas," said Gaston,
thoughtfully.

"Exactly, my boy; and we've got them by the nose.,;>

"If you can carry through that programme you've
got us in a hole."

"In a hole ! I should say we've got you in the bot<
tomless pit with the lid bolted down. You'll not even
rise at the day of judgment. It won't be necessary I'*

198 The Leopard's Spots

laughed McLeod, and as he laughed changed his tone
in the midst of his laughter.

"And what is the great proposition you have to make
to me ? " asked Gaston.

"Join with us in this new coalition and stump the
state for us. Your fortune will be made, win or lose.
I'll see that the National Republican Committee pays
you a thousand dollars a week for your speeches, at
least five a week — two hundred dollars apiece. If we
i lose, you will make ten thousand dollars in the canvass
and stand in line for a good office under the National
administration. If we win, I'll put you in the Gov-
ernor's Palace for four years. There's a tide in the
affairs of men, you know. It's at the flood at this
moment for you."

Gaston was silent a moment and looked thoughtfully
out of the window. The offer was a tremendous temp-
tation. A group of old fogies had dominated the
Democratic party for ten years, and had kept the
younger men down with their war-cries and old soldier
candidates, until he had been more than once disgusted.
He felt as sure of McLeod's success as if he already
saw it. It was precisely the movement he had warned
the old pudding-head set against in the preceding cam-
paign in which they had deliberately alienated the
•"Farmers' Alliance. They had poohpoohed his warning
and blundered on to their ruin.

It was the dream of his life to have money enough
to buy back his mother's old home, beautify it, and live
there in comfort with a great library of books he would
gather. The possibility of a career at the state Capitol
and then at Washington for so young a man was one of
dazzling splendour to his youthful mind. For the
moment it seemed almost impossible to say no.

McLeod saw his hesitation and already smiled with

The Voice of the Tempter 199

the certainty of triumph. A cloud overspread his face
when Gaston at length said;

"I'll give you my answer to-morrow."

"All right! You're a gentleman; I can trust youa
Our conversation is, of course, only between you
and me."

"Certainly; I understand that."

All that day and night he was alone fighting out the
battle in his soul. It was an easy solution of life that
opened before him. The attainment of his proudest
ambitions lay within his grasp almost without a struggle.
Such a campaign, with his name on the lips of surging
thousands around those speakers' stands, was an idea
that fascinated him with a serpent charm.

All that he had to do was to give up his prejudices on
the Negro question. His own party stood for no princi-
ple except the supremacy of the Anglo-Saxon. On the
issue of the party platforms he was in accord with the
modern Republican utterances at almost every issue,
and so were his associates in the Southern Democracy.
The Negro was the point. What was the use now of
persisting in the stupid reiteration of the old sljgan of
white supremacy? The Negro had the ballot. He was
still the ward of the nation, and likely to be for all time,
so far as he could see. The Negro was the one pet super- {
stition of the millions who lived where no Negro dwelt.

His person and his ballot were held more peculiarly
sacred and inviolate in the South than that of any white
man elsewhere.

The possibility of a reunion in friendly understanding
and sympathy between the masses of the North and the
masses of the South seemed remote and impossible in
his day and generation.

He asked himself the question — Could such a revolu«
tion toward universal suffrage ever go backward, no

200 The Leopard's Spots

matter how base the motive which gave it birth ? Why
not give up impracticable dreams, accept things as they
are, and succeed ?

He did not confer with the Reverend John Durham
on this question, because he knew what his answer
would be without asking. A thousand times he had
said to him, with the emphasis he could give to words:

"My boy, the future American must be an Anglo-
Saxon or a Mulatto. We are now deciding which it
shall be. The future of the world depends on tlie future
of this Republic. This Republic can have no future if
racial lines are broken and its proud citizenship sinks to
the level of a mongrel breed of Mulattoes. The South
must fight this battle to a finish. Two thousand years
look down upon the struggle, and two thousand years of
the future bend low to catch tlte message of life or death."

He could see now his drawn face with its deep lines
and his eyes flashing with passion as he said this. These
words haunted Gaston now with strange power as he
walked along the silent streets.

He walked down past his old home, stopped and
leaned on the gate, and looked at it long and lovingly.
What a flood of tender and sorrowful memories swept
his soul ! He lived over again the days of despair
when his mother was an invalid. He recalled their
awful poverty, and then the last terrible day with that
mob of Negroes trampling over the lawn and overrun-
ning the house. He saw the white face of his mother
whose memory he loved as he loved life. And now he
recalled a sentence from her dying lips. He had all
but lost its meaning.

" You will grow to be a brave, strong man. You will
fight this battle out and win back our home, and bring
your own bride here in the far-away days of sunshine
and success I see for you."

The Voice cf the Tempter 201

You will fight tJiis battle out — he had almost lost that
sentence in his hunger for that which followed. It came
to his soul now, ringing like a trumpet-call to honour
and duty.

He turned on his heel and walked rapidly home. He
looked at his watch. It was two o'clock in the morning.

4 'We will fight it out on the old lines," he said to
McLeod next day.

"You will find me a pretty good fighter."

"Unto death let it be," answered Gaston, firmly set-
ting his lips.

"I admire your pluck, but I'm sorry for your judg-
ment. You know you're beaten before you begin."

"Defeat that's seen has lost its bitterness before
it comes."

"Then get ready the flowers for the funeral. I hoped
you would have better sense. You are one of the men
now I'll have to crush first, thoroughly and for all time.
I'm not afraid of the old fools. I'll be fair enough to
tell you this," said McLeod.

"Not since Legree's day has the Republican party
had so dangerous a man at its head," said Gaston
thoughtfully to himself as McLeod strode away across
the square. "He has ten times the brains of his older
master, and none of his superstitions. He will give me
a hard fight."

CHAPTER III

FLORA

AMB RIGHT had changed but little in the
eighteen years of peace that had followed the
terrors of Legree's regime. The population
had doubled, though but few houses had been built.
The town had not grown from the development of
industry, but for a very simple reason — the country
people had moved into the town, seeking refuge from
a new terror that was growing of late more and more a
menace to a country home — the roving criminal Negro.

The birth of a girl baby was sure to make a father
restless, and when the baby looked up into his face one
day with the soft light of a maiden he gave up his farm
and moved to town.

The most important development of these eighteen
years was the complete alienation of the white ard
black races as compared with the old familiar trust Cx
domestic life.

When Legree finished his work as the master artificer
of the Reconstruction Policy, he had dug a gulf between
the races as deep as hell. It had never been bridged.
The deed was done, and it had crystallised into the solid
rock that lies at the basis of society. It was done at a
formative period, and it could no more be undone now
than you could roll the universe back in its course.

The younger generation of white men only knew the
Negro as an enemy of his people in politics and society.
He never came in contact with him except in menial

202

Flora 203

service, in which the service rendered was becoming
more and more trifling, and his habits more insolent.
He had his separate schools, churches, preachers and
teachers, and his political leaders were the beneficiaries
of Legree's legacies.

With the Anglo-Saxon race guarding the door of mar-
riage with fire and sword, the effort was being made to
♦ build a nation inside a nation of two antagonistic races.
No £uch thing had ever been done in the history of the
human race, even under the development of the monar-
chical and aristocratic forms of society. How could it
be done under the formulas of Democracy with Equality
as the fundamental basis of law? And yet this was the
programme of the age.

Gaston was feeling blue from the reaction which fol-
lowed his temptation by McLeod. His duty was clear
the night before as he walked firmly homeward, recalling
the tragedy of the past. Now in the cold light of day
the past seemed far away and unre£1. The present was
near, pressing, vital. He laid down a book he was try-
ing to read, locked his office, and strolled downtown to
see Tom Camp.

This old soldier had come to be a sort of oracle to him.
His affection for the son of his Colonel was deep and
abiding, and his extravagant flattery of his talents and
future were so evidently sincere they always acted as a •;
tonic. And he needed a tonic to-day.

Tom was seated in a chair in his yard under a big
cedar, working on a basket, and a little golden-haired
girl was playing at his feet. It was his old home he had
lost in Legree's day, but had got back through the help
of General Worth, who came up one day and paid back
Tom's gift of lightwood in gleaming yellow metal. His
long hair and full beard were white now, and his eyes
had a soft deep look that told of sorrows borne in

204 The Leopard's Spots

patience and faith beyond the ken of the younger man.
It was this look on Tom's face that held Gaston like a
magnet when he was in trouble.

"Tom, I'm blue and heartsick. I've come down to
have you cheer me up a little."

11 You've got the blues ? Well, that is a joke ! " cried
Tom. "You, young and handsome, the best educated
man in the county, the finest orator in the state, life
all before you, and God nllin' the world to-day with
sunshine and spring flowers, and all for you. You
blue! That is a joke." And Tom's voice rang in
hearty laughter.

"Come here, Flora, and kiss me. You won't laugh at
me, will you?"

The child climbed up into his lap, slipped her little
arms around his neck, and hugged and kissed him.

"Now, once more, dearie, long and close and hard —
oh! That's worth a pound of candy." Again she
squeezed his neck c nd kissed him, looking into his face
with a smile.

"I love you, Charlie," she artlessly said, with quaint
seriousness.

" Do you, dear? Well, that makes me glad. If I can
win the love of as pretty a little girl as you I'm not a
failure, am I?" And he smoothed her curls.

"Ain't she sweet? " cried Tom with pride, as he laid
aside his basket and looked at her with moistened
eyes.

"Tom, she's the sweetest child I ever saw."

"Yes, she's God's last and best gift to me, to show
me He still loved me. Talk about trouble. Man, you're
a baby ! You ain't cut your teeth yet. Wait till you've
seen some things I've seen. Wait till you've seen
the light of the world go out, and, staggerin' in the
dark, met the devil face to face and looked him in the

Flora 205

eye and smelled the pit. And then feel him knock
you down in it, and the red waves roll over you and
smother you. I've been there ! "

Tom paused and looked at Gaston. "You weren't
here when I come to the end of the world, the time when
that baby was born, and Annie died with the little red
bundle sleepin' on her breast. The oldest girl was mur-
dered by Legree's nigger soldiers. Then Annie give me
that little gal. Lord, I was the happiest old fool that
ever lived that day ! And then when I looked into
Annie's dead face I went down, down, down ! But I
looked up from the bottom of the pit and saw the light
of them blue eyes and I heard her callin' me to take
her. How I watched her and nursed her, a mother and
a father to her, day and night, through the long years,
and how them little fingers of hers got held of my heart !
Now, I bless the Lord for all His goodness and mercy to
me. She will make it all right. She's going to be a lady
and such a beauty ! She's going to school now, and me
and the General's goin' to take her ter college by and
by, and she's goin' to marry some big handsome fellow
like you, and her crippled, gray-haired daddy '11 live in
her house in his old age. The Lord is my shepherd; I
shall not want."

"Tom, you make me ashamed."

"You ought to be, man — a youngster like you to talk
about gettin' the blues. What's all your education for? "

"Sometimes I think that only men like you have ever
been educated."

" G'long with your foolishness, boy. I ain't never had
a show in this world. The nigger's been on my back
since I first toddled into the world, and I reckon he'll ride
me into the grave. They are my only rivals now, making
them baskets, and they always undersell me."

Gaston started as Tom uttered the last sentence.

206 The Leopard's Spots

" With you, boy, it's all plain sailin'. You're the best-
looking chap in the county. I was a dandy when I was
young. It does me good to look at you, if you don't care
nothin' about fine clothes. Then you're as sharp as a
razor. There ain't a man in No'th Caliny that can stand
up agin you on the stump. I've heard 'em all. You'll
be the Governor of this state."

That was always the climax of Tom's prophetic
flattery. He could think of no grander end of a human
life than to crown it in the Governor's Palace of North
Carolina. He belonged to the old days when it was a
bigger thing to be the Governor of a great state than to
hold any office short of the Presidency — when men
resigned seats in the United States Senate to run for
Governor, and when the National Government was so
puny a thing that the bankers of Europe refused to loan
money on United States bonds unless countersigned by
the State of Virginia. And that was not so long ago.
The bankers sent that answer to Buchanan's Secretary
of the Treasury.

"Tom, you've lifted me out of the dumps. I owe
you a doctor's fee!" cried Gaston, with enthusiasm,
as he placed Flora back on the grass and started
to his office.

" All I charge you is to come again. The old man's
proud of his young friend. You make me feel like I'm
somebody in the old world after all. And some day
when you're great and rich and famous, and the
world's full of your name, I'll tell folks I know you like
my own boy, and I'll brag about how many times you
used to come to see me."

" Hush, Tom. you make me feel silly," said Gaston, as
he warmly pressed the old fellow's hand. He went back
toward his office with lighter step and more buoyant
heart. His mind was as clear as the noonday sun that

Flora 207

was now flooding the green fresh world with its
splendour. He would stand by his own people. He
would sink or swim with them. If poverty and
failure were the result, let it be so. If success came,
all the better. There were things more to be desired
fchan gold.

CHAPTER IV
THE ONE WOMAN

GASTON called at the post-office to get his mail.
One relief the Cleveland administration had
brought Hambright — a decent citizen in charge
of the post-office. Dave Haley had given place to a
Democrat and was now scheming and working with
McLeod for the "salvation" of the state, which, of
course, meant for the old slave-trader the restoration
of his office under a Republican administration. If
the South had held no other reason for hating the
Republican party, the character of the men appointed
to Federal office was enough to send every honest man
hurrying into the opposite party without asking any
questions as to its principles.

Sam Love, the new postmaster, was a jovial, honest,
lazy, good-natured Democrat whose ideal of a luxurious
life was attained in his office. He handed Gaston his
mail with a giggle.

"What's the matter with you, Sam?"

" Nuthin' 'tall. I just thought I'd tell you that I like
her handwriting," he laughed.

1 ' How dare you study the handwriting on my
letters, sir!"

"What's the use of being postmaster? There ain't
no big money in it. I just take pride in the office,"
said Sam, genially. "That's a new one, ain't it? "

Gaston looked at the letter incredulously. It was a
new one — a big, square envelope with a seal on the back

208

The One Woman 209

of it, addressed to him in the most delicate feminine
hand and postmarked "Independence."

"Great Scott, this is interesting," he cried, breaking
the seal.

When the postmaster saw he was going to open it
right there in the office, he stepped around in front and,
looking ever his shoulder, said:

"What is it, Charlie?"

"It's an invitation from the Ladies' Memorial Asso-
ciation to deliver the Memorial Day oration at Independ'
ence the 10th of May. That's great. No money in it,
but scores of pretty girls, big speech, congratulations, the
lion of the hour. Don't you wish you were really a man
of brains, Sam? "

"No, no; I'm married. It would be a waste now."

"Sam, I'll be there. Got the biggest speech of my
life all cocked and primed, full of pathos and eloquence
— been working on it at odd times for four years.
They'll think it a sudden inspiration."

"What's the name of it?"

"The Message of the New South to the Glorious
Old."

"That sounds bully! That ought to fetch 'em."

"It will, my boy; and when Dave Haley gets this
post-office away from you in the dark days coming, I'll
publish that speech in a pamphlet, and you can peddle
it at a quarter and make a good living for your children."

"Don't talk like that, Gaston; that isn't funny at all.
You don't think the Radicals have got an)7- chance?"

"Chance! Between you and me, they'll win."

Sam went back to the desk without another word, a
great fear suddenly darkening the future. McLeod had
gotten off the same joke on him the day before. It
sounded ominous, coming from both sides like that.
He took up his party paper, The Old-Timer's Gazette,

210 The Leopard's Spots

and read over again the sure prophecies of victory and
felt better.

Gaston accepted the invitation with feverish haste.
He had it all ready to put in the office for the return
mail to Independence, but he was ashamed to appear
in such a hurry, so he held the letter over until the next
day. He proudly showed the invitation to Mrs. Durham.

"What do you think of that, Auntie ? "

"Immense. You will meet Miss Sallie sure. That
letter is in her handwriting. She's the Secretary of the
Association and signed the Committee's names."

"You don't say that's the great and only one's
handwriting?"

"Couldn't be mistaken. It has a delicate distinction
about it. I'd know it anywhere."

"It is beautiful," acknowledged Gaston, looking
thoughtfully at the letter.

"I wish you had a new suit, Charlie."

"I wouldn't mind it myself, if I had the money.
But clothes don't interest me much, just so I'm
fairly decent."

"I'll loan you the money if you will promise me to
devote yourself faithfully to Sallie."

11 Never. I'll not sell my interest in all those acres of
pretty girls just for one I never saw and a suit of clothes.
No, thanks. I'm going down there with a premonition
I may find Her of whom I've dreamed. They say that
town is full of beauties."

"You're so conceited. That's all the more reason you
should look your best."

"I don't care so much about looks. I'm going to do
my best, whatever I look."

"Oh, you know you're good looking and you don't
•;v.are," said his foster mother with pride.

On the ioth of May Independence was in gala robes.

The One Woman 211

The long rows of beautiful houses, with dark bluegrass
lawns, over which giant oaks spread their cool arms,
were gay with bunting, and with flowers, flowers
everywhere ! Every urchin on the street and every
man, woman and child wore or carried flowers.

The reception committee met Gaston at the depot on
the arrival of the excursion train that ran from Ham-
bright. He was placed in an open carriage beside a
handsome, chattering society woman, and, drawn by
two prancing horses, was escorted to the hotel, where
he was introduced to the distinguished old soldiers of
the Confederacy.

At ten o'clock the procession was formed. What a
sight ! It stretched from the hotel down the shaded
pavements a mile toward the cemetery, two long rows
of beautiful girls holding great bouquets of flowers.
This long double line ot beauty and sweetness opened,
and escorted gravely by the oldest General of the
Confederacy present, he walked through this mile of
smiling girls and flowers. Behind him tramped the
veterans, some with one arm, some with wooden legs.

When they passed through, the double line closed,
and two and two the hundreds of girls carried their
flowers in solemn procession. Here was the throb-
bing soul of the South, keeping fresh the love of her
heroic dead.

They spread out over the great cemetery like a host of
ministering angels. There was a bugle call. They bent
low a moment, and flowers were smiling over every grave
from the greatest to the lowliest.

And then to a stone altar marked "To the Unknown
Dead " they came and heaped up roses. Then a group
of sad-faced women dressed in black, with quaint little
bonnets wreathing their brows like nuns, went silently
over to the National Cemetery across the way and, each

212 The Leopard's Spots

taking a basket, walked past the long lines of the dead
their boys had fought and dropped a single rose on every
soldier's grave. They were women whose boys were
buried in strange lands in lonely, unmarked trenches.
They were doing now what they hoped some woman's
hand would do for their lost heroes.

The crowd silently gathered around the speakers'
stand and took their seats in the benches placed beneath
the trees.

Gaston had never seen this ceremony so lavishly and
beautifully performed before. He was overwhelmed
with emotion. His father's straight, soldierly figure
rose before him in imagination, and with him all
the silent hosts that now bivouacked with the dead.
His soul was melted with the infinite pathos and
pity of it all.

He had intended to say some sharp, epigrammatic
things that would cut the chronic mossbacks that cling
to the platforms on such occasions, but somehow when
he began they were melted out of his speech. He spoke
with a tenderness and reverence that stilled the crowd
in a moment like low music.

His tribute to the dead was a poem of rhythmic and
exalted thoughts. The occasion was to him an inspira-
tion, and the people hung breathless on his words. His
voice was never strained, but was penetrated and thrilled
with thought packed until it burst into the flame of
speech. He felt with conscious power his mastery of
his audience. He was surprised at his own mood of
extraordinary tenderness as he felt his being softened
by that oldest religion of the ages, the worship of the
dead — as old as sorrow and as everlasting as death. He
was for the moment clay in the hands of some mightier
spirit above him.

He had spoken perhaps fifteen minutes when suddenly,

The One Woman 213

straight in front of him, he looked into the face of the
One Woman of all his dreams !

There she sat as still as death, her beautiful face tense
with breathless interest, her fluted red lips parted as if
half in wonder, half in joy, over some strange revelation,
and her great blue eyes swimming in a mist of tears. He
smiled a look of recognition into her soul and she
answered with a smile that seemed to say: "I've known
you always. Why haven't you seen me sooner?" He
recognised her instantly from Mrs. Durham's description,
and his heart gave a cry of joy. From that moment
every word that he uttered was spoken to her. Some-
times as he would look straight through her eyes into
her soul she would flush red to the roots of her brown-
black hair, but she never lowered her gaze. He closed
his speech in a round of applause that was renewed
again and again.

His old classmate, Bob St. Clare, rushed forward to
greet him.

"Old fellow, you've covered yourself with g^ory. By
George, that was great ! Come, here's a hundred girls
want to meet you."

He was introduced to a host of beauties who
showered him with extravagant compliments which
he accepted without affectation. He knew he had
outdone himself that day, and he knew why. The
One Woman he had been searching the world for
was there, and inspired him beyond all he had ever
dared before.

He was disappointed in not seeing her among the
crowd who were shaking his hand. He looked anxiously
over the heads of those nearby to see if she had gone.
He saw her standing talking to two stylishly dressed
young men.

When the crowd had melted away from the rostrum,

214 The Leopard's Spots

she walked straight toward him, extending her hand
with a gracious smile.

He knew he must look like a fool, but to save him
he could not help it; he was simply bubbling over with
delight as he grasped her hand, and before she could say
a word he said:

"You are Miss Sallie Worth, the Secretary of the
Association. My foster mother has described you so
accurately I should know you among a thousand."

"Yes; I have been looking forward with pleasure to
our trip to the Springs when I knew we should meet you.
I am delighted to see you a month earlier." She said
this with a simple earnestness that gave it a deeper
meaning than a mere commonplace.

"Do you know that you nearly knocked me off my
feet when I first saw you in the crowd?"

"Why? How?" she asked.

"You startled me."

"I hope not unpleasantly," she said, looking up at
him with her blue eyes twinkling.

"Oh, heavens, no! You are such a perfect image
of the girl she described that I was so astonished I
came near shouting at the top of my voice, 'There
she is !' And that would have astonished the audience,
wouldn't it?"

"It would indeed ! " she replied, blushing just a little.

"But I'm forgetting my mission, Mr. Gaston. Papa
sent me to apologise for his absence to-day. He was
called out of the city on some mill business. He told
me to bring you home to dine with him. I'm the
Secretary, you know, and exercise authority in these
matters, so I've fixed that programme. You have no
choice. The carriage is waiting."

CHAPTER V
THE MORNING OF LOVE

TO his dying day Gaston will never forget that ride
to her home with Sallie Worth by his side. It
was a perfect May day. The leaves on the
trees were just grown, and flashed in their green satin
under the Southern sun, and every flower seemed in
full bloom.

A great joy filled his heart with a sense of divine
restfulness. He was unusually silent. And then she
said something that made him open his eyes in new
wonder.

"Don't drive so fast, Ben, and go around the longest
way; I'm enjoying this." She paused and a mischievous
look came into her eyes as she saw his expression. " I've
got the lion here by my side. I want to show all the
girls in town that I'm the only one here to-day. It isn't
often I've a great man tied down fast like this."

"Why did you spoil the first part of that pretty speech
with the last?" he said, with a frown.

"It was only your vanity that made me pause."

"Could you read me like that?"

"Of course; all men are vain — much vainer than
women." Again there was a long silence.

They had reached the outskirts of the city now and
were driving slowly through the deep shadows of a
great forest.

"What beautiful trees !" he exclaimed.

44 They are fine. Do you love big trees ? "

215

216 The Leopard's Spots

" Yes; they always seem to me to have a soul. It used
to make me almost cry to watch them fall beneath
Nelse's axe. I'd never have the heart to clear a piece
of woods if I owned it."

"I'm so glad to hear you say that. Papa laughed at
me when I said something of the sort when he wanted to
cut these woods. He left them just to please me. They
belong to our place. They hide the house till you get
right up to the gate, but I love them."

Again he looked into her eyes and was silent.

" Now I come to think of it, you're the only girl
I've met to-day who hasn't mentioned my speech.
That's strange."

" How do you know that I'm not saving up something
very pretty to say to you later about it?"

"Tell me now."

"No; you've spoiled it by your vanity in asking."
She said this looking away carelessly.

"Then I'll interpret your silence as the highest
compliment you can pay me. When words fail we
are deeply moved."

"Vanity of vanity, all is vanity, saith the preacher !"
she exclaimed, lifting her pretty hands.

They turned through a high arched iron gateway,
across which was written in gold letters, "Oakwood."

On a gently rising hill on the banks of the Catawba
River rose a splendid old Southern mansion, its big Greek
columns gleaming through the green trees like polished
ivory. A wide porch ran across the full width of the
house behind the big pillars, and smaller columns sup-
ported the full sweep of a great balcony above. The
house was built of brick with Portland cement finish
and the whole painted in two shades of old ivory, with
moss-green roof and dark rich Pompeian red brick
foundations. With its green background of magnolia

The Morning of Love 217

trees it seemed like a huge block of solid ivory flashing
in splendour from its throne on the hill. The drive
wound down a little dale, around a great circle filled
with shrubbery and flowers, and up to the pillared
porte-cochere.

"What a beautiful home!" Gaston exclaimed, with
intense feeling.

"It is beautiful, isn't it !" she said with delight. "I
love every brick in its walls, every tree and flower and
blade of grass."

"I've always dreamed of a home like that. Those big
columns seem to link one to the past and add dignity
and meaning to life."

"Then you can understand how I love it, when I was
born here and every nook and corner has its love
message for me from the past that I have lived, as well
as its wider meaning which you see."

"The old South built beautiful homes, didn't they?^
And that was one of the finest things about the proud
old days," he said.

"Yes; and the new South of which you spoke
to-day will not forget this heritage of the old, when
it comes to itself and shakes off its long suffering
and poverty."

Strange to hear that sort of a speech from a girl who
loves society, dances divinely and dresses to kill. He
thought of the words of his foster mother with a pang.
He hoped she was joking about those things. But he
had a strong suspicion from the consciousness of power
with which she had tried once or twice to tease him that
they were going to prove fatally true.

"Mother tells me you were in Baltimore, in that swell
girls' school on North Charles Street, when I was a
student at the University?"

"Yes; and we gave reception after reception to the

218 The Leopard's Spots

Hopkins men and you never once honoured us with
your presence."

"But I didn't know you were there, Miss Sallie."

"Of course not! If you had, I wouldn't speak to
you now. They said you were a recluse — that you
never went into society and didn't speak to a woman
for four years."

"How did you hear that?"

"Bob St. Clare told me after I came home by way of
apology for your bad manners in so shamefully neglecting
a young woman from your own state."

"I'll make amends now."

"Oh ! I'm not suffering from loneliness as I did then.
You know Bob put us up to inviting you to deliver the
address. He said you were the only orator in North
Carolina."

"Bob's the best friend I ever had. We entered
college together at fifteen, and became inseparable
friends."

He helped her from the carriage and she ran lightly up
the high stoop.

"Now come here and look at the view of the river
before Papa comes and begins to talk about the tremen-
dous water-power in the falls."

He followed her to the end of the long porch over-
looking the river. Behind the house the hill abruptly
plunged downward to the water's edge in a mountainous
cliff. The river wound around this cliff past the house,
emerging into a valley where it described a graceful
curve, almost doubling on itself, and rolled softly away
amid green overhanging willows and towering syca-
mores till lost in the distance toward the blue spurs of
King's Mountain.

"A glorious view!" said Gaston, looking long and
lovingly at the silver surface of the river.

The Morning of Love 219

"Do you love the water, Mr. Gaston?"

"Passionately. I was born among the hills, but the
first time I saw the ocean sweeping over five miles of
sand reefs and breaking in white thundering spray at
my feet I stood there on a sand-dune on our wild coast
and gazed entranced for an hour without moving. Of
all the things God ever made on this earth I love the
waters of the sea, and all moving water suggests it to
me. That river says, I must hurry to the sea !"

"It is strange we should have such similar tastes,"
she said, seriously. But it did not seem strange to him.
Somehow he expected to find her agree with every
whim and fancy of his nature.

"Now we will find Mamma. She is such an invalid
she rarely goes out. Papa will be home any minute."

"We are glad to welcome you, Mr. Gaston," said
her mother in a kindly manner. "I'm sure you've
enjoyed the drive this beautiful day, if Sallie hasn't
been trying to tease you. The boys say she's very
tiresome at times."

"Why, Mamma, I'm surprised at you. The idea of
such a thing ! There's not a word of truth in it, is there,
Mr. Gaston?"

"Certainly not, Miss Sallie. I'll testify, Mrs. Worth,
that your daughter has been simply charming."

She ran to meet her father at the door. There was
the sound of a hearty kiss, a little whispering, and the
General stepped briskly into the parlour where she had
left her guest.

"Pleased to welcome you to our home, young man.
They say downtown that you made the greatest speech
ever heard in Independence. Sorry I missed it. We'll
have you to dinner anyway. I knew your brave father
in the army. And now I come to think of it, I saw you
once when you were a boy. I was struck with your

22o The Leopard's Spots

resemblance to your father then, as now. You showed
me the way down to Tom Camp's house. Don't
you remember?"

"Certainly, General; but I didn't flatter myself that
you would recall it."

"I never forget a face. I hope you have been enjoy-
ing yourself ? ' '

"More than I can express, sir."

"I'll join you by and by," said the General, tak-
ing leave.

"Now isn't he a dear old Papa?" she said, demurely.

"He certainly knows how to make a timid young
man feel at home."

"Are you timid?"

"Hadn't you noticed it?"

"Well, hardly." She shook her head and closed her
eyes in the most tantalising way. "To see the cool
insolence of conscious power with which you looked that
great crowd in the face when you arose on that plat-
form, I shouldn't say I was struck with your timidity."

"I was really trembling from head to foot."

"I wonder how you would look if really cool!"

"Honestly, Miss Sallie, I never speak to any crowd
without the intensest nervous excitement. I may put
on a brave front, but it's all on the surface."

"I can't believe it," she said, shaking her head.

She looked at his serious face for a moment and
was silent.

"It's queer how we run out of something to say,
isn't it?" she asked at length.
* "I hadn't thought of it."

' ' Come up to the observatory and I '11 show you Lord
Cornwallis's lookout when he had his headquarters here
during the Revolution."

She lifted her soft, white skirts and led the way up

The Morning of Love 221

the winding mahogany stairs into the observatory from
which the surrounding country could be seen for miles.

"Here Lord Cornwallis waited in vain for Colonel
Ferguson to join him with his regiment from King's
Mountain."

"Where my great-grandfather was drawing around
him his cordon of death with his fierce mountain men,"
interrupted Gaston.

"Was your great-grandfather in that battle?"

"Yes. It was fought on his land, and his two-story
log house with the rifle holes cut in the chimney-jambs
still stands."

"Then we will shake hands again," she cried, with
enthusiasm, "for we are both children of the Revolu-
tion!"

Gaston took her beautiful hand in his and held it
lingeringly. Never in all his life had the mere touch of
a human hand thrilled him with such strange power.
How long he held it he could not tell, but it was
with a sort of hurt surprise he felt her gently
withdraw it at last.

They had reached the parlour again, and he slowly
fell into an easy chair.

"Do you dance, Miss Sallie?"

"Why, yes; don't you dance?"

"Never tried in my life."

"Don't you approve of dancing?"

"I never had time to think about it. It always
seemed silly to me."

"It's great fun."

"I'd take lessons if you would agree to teach me and
I could dance with you all the time and keep all the
other fellows away."

"Well, I must say that's doing fairly well for a timid
young man's first day's acquaintance. What will you

222 The Leopard's Spots

say when you once become fully self-possessed?" She
lifted her high-arched eyebrows and looked at him with
her blue eyes full of tantalising fun until he had to look
down at the floor to keep from saying more than he
dared. When he looked up again he changed the
subject.

"Miss Sallie, I feel like I've known you ever since I
was born." She blushed and made no reply.

Dinner was announced, and Gaston was amazed to
see Allan McLeod enter, chattering familiarly with the
General. He seemed on the most intimate terms with
the family, and his eye lingered fondly on Sallie's face
in a way that somehow Gaston resented as an im-
pertinence.

"I didn't even know you were acquainted with the
Honourable Allan McLeod, Miss Sallie," said Gaston, as
they entered the parlour alone.

"Yes; he was a sort of ward of Papa's when he was
a boy. Papa hates his politics, but he has always been
in and out almost like one of the family since I can
remember. I think he's a fascinating man, don't you?"

"I do; but I don't like him."

"Well, he's a great friend of mine; you mustn't
quarrel."

Gaston went to the hotel with his brain in a whirl,
wondering just what she meant. It was nearly twelve
o'clock before he left the General's house. How he had
passed these eleven hours he could not imagine. They
seemed like eleven minutes in one way. In another he
seemed to have lived a lifetime that day.

"By George, she's an angel!" he kept saying over
and over to himself as he climbed to his room, for-
getting the elevator.

CHAPTER VI
BESIDE BEAUTIFUL WATERS

WHEN Gaston tried to sleep he found it impo^
sible. His brain was on fire, every nerve
quivering with some new mysterious power
and his imagination soaring on tireless wings. He
rolled and tossed an hour, then got up, and sat by
his open window looking out over the city sleeping
in the still, white moonlight. He looked into the
mirror and grinned.

"What is the matter with me!" he exclaimed. "I
believe I'm going crazy."

He sat down and tried to work the thing out by the
formulas of cold reason. "It's perfectly absurd to say
I'm in love. My wild romancing about a passion that
will grasp all life in its torrent sweep is only a boy's day
dream. The world is too prosy for that now."

Yet in spite of this argument the room seemed as
bright as day, and the moon was only a pale sister light
to the radiance from the face of the girl he had seen
that day. Her face seemed to him smiling close into
his now. The light of her eyes was tender and soothing
like the far-away memory of his mother's voice.

"It's a passing fancy," he said at last, after he had
sat an hour dreaming and dreaming of scenes he dared
not frame in words even alone. He stood by the
window again.

"What a beautiful old world this is after all!" he
thought, as he gazed out on the tops of the oaks whoss

223

224 The LeoparcTs Spots

young leaves were softly sighing at the touch of the
night winds. Turning his eye downward to the street
he saw the men loading the morning papers into the
wagons for the early mail.

" I wonder what sort of report of my speech they put
in?" he exclaimed. Unable to sleep, he hastily dressed,
went down and bought a paper.

On the front page was a flattering portrait, two
columns in width, with a report of his speech filling the
entire page, and an editorial review of a column and a
half. He was hailed as the coming man of the state in
this editorial, which contained the most extravagant
praise. He knew it was the best thing he had ever
done, and he felt for the minute proud of himself and
his achievement. This contemplation of his own
greatness quieted his nerves and he fell asleep. He
was awakened by the first rolling of carts on the pave-
ments at dawn. He knew he had not slept more than
two hours, but he was as wide awake as though he had
slept soundly all night.

" I must be threatened with that spell of fever Auntie
has been worrying about since I was a boy ! " he laughed
as he slowly dressed.

"It's now six o'clock, and my train don't leave tiU
nine," he mused. "But am I going on that train?
That's the question. "

The fact was, now he came to think of it, there was
no need of hurrying home. He would stay awhile and
look this mystery in the face until he was disillusioned.
Besides, he wanted to find out what McLeod's visit
meant. He had a vague feeling of uneasiness when
he recalled the way McLeod had assumed in the
General's house. He had told Sallie he must hurry
home on the morning's train for no earthly reason
than that he had intended to do so when he came.

Beside Beautiful Waters 225

So after breakfast he wrote her a little note.

"My Dear Miss Worth: My train left me. Will
you have compassion on a stranger in a strange city
and let me call to see you again to-day?

" Charles Gaston."

He waited impatiently until he heard his train leave,
and then told the boy to make tracks for the General's
house.

A peal of laughter rang through the hall when Sallie's
dancing eyes read that note.

"Oh, the story-teller!" she cried.

And this was the answer she sent back:

"Certainly. Come out at once. Ill take you buggy
driving all by myself over a lovely road up the river.
I do this in acknowledgment of the gracious flattery
you pay me in the story you told about the train. Of
course I know you waited till the train left before you
sent the note. Sallie Worth."

" Now I wonder if that young rascal of a boy told her
I wrote that note an hour ago? I'll wring his neck if
he did. Come here, boy!"

The Negro came up grinning in hopes of another
quarter.

1 ' Did you tell that young lady anything about when
I wrote that note ? ' '

"Na-sah! Nebber tole her nuffin'. She des laugh
and laugh fit ter kill herse'f des quick es she reads de
note."

Gaston smiled and threw him another tip.

"Yassah, she's a knowin' lady, sho's you bawn. 1
been dar lots er times 'fo' dis !"

226 The Leopard's Spots

Gaston was tempted to ask him for whom he carried
those former messages. He walked with bounding
steps, his being tingling to his finger-tips with the joy
of living. The avenue leading the full length of the
city toward the General's house was two miles long
before it reached the woods at the gate. It seemed
only a step this morning.

As he passed through the cool shade of the woods a
squirrel was playing hide and seek with his mate on the
old crooked fence beside the road. His little nimble
mistress flew up a great tree to its topmost bough and
chattered and laughed at her lover as he scrambled
swiftly after her. She waited until he was just reaching
out his arm to grasp her, and then with another scream
of laughter leaped straight out into the air to another
tree-top, and then another and another until lost in the
heart of the forest.

"I wonder if that's going to be my fate !" he mused
as he turned into the gateway.

Again the majestic beauty of that gleaming mass of
ivory on the hill with its green background swept his
soul with its power. It seemed a different shade of
colour now that he saw it with the sun at another
angle. Its surface seemed to have the soft sheen of
creamy velvet.

He paused and sighed: "Why should I be so poor!
If I only had a house like that I'd turn that big banquet
hall on the left wing into a library, and I'd ask no
higher heaven."

And he fell to wondering if it would really be worth
the having without the face and voice of the girl who
was there within waiting for him. No; he was sure of
it this morning for the first time in his life. The cer-
tainty of this conviction brought to his heart a feeling
of loneliness and despair. When he thought of his

Beside Beautiful Waters 227

abject poverty and the long years of struggle before him,
and of that beautiful accomplished young woman, rich,
petted, the belle of the city, the gulf that separated their
lives seemed impassable.

"I'm playing with fire," he said to himself as he
looked up at the graceful pillars with their carved and
fluted capitals. "Well, let it be so. Let me live life to
its deepest depths and its highest reach. It is better to
love and lose than never to love at all." And he
walked into the cool hall with the ease and assurance
of its master.

Sallie greeted him with the kindliest grace.

"I'm so glad you stayed to-day, Mr. Gaston. I
should have been really chagrined to think I made so
slight an impression on you that you could walk delib-
erately away on a prearranged schedule. I am not
used to being treated so lightly."

He tried to make some answer to this half-serious
banter, but was so absorbed in just looking at her he
said nothing.

She was dressed in a morning gown of a soft red
material, trimmed with old cream lace. The material
of a woman's dress had never interested him before.
He knew calico from silk, but beyond that he never
ventured an opinion. To colour alone he was responsive.
This combination of red and creamy white, with the
bodice cut low, showing the lines of her beautiful white
shoulders, and the great mass of dark hair rising in
graceful curves from her full round neck, heightened
her beauty to an extraordinary degree. As she walked
the clinging folds of her dress, outlining her queenly
figure, seemed part of her very being and to be imbued
with her soul. He was dazzled with the new revelation
of her power over him.

"Have you no apology, sir, for pretending that you

228 The Leopard's Spots

were going home this morning ? " she said, seating herself
by his side.

"You didn't ask me to stay with fervour."

"It ought not to have been necessary."

"Didn't you really know I was not going?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad."

"Yes; you see, I'm twenty-one years old, and I've
seen such things happen before." She purred this
slowly and burst into laughter.

"Now, Miss Sallie, that's cruel to throw me down
in a heap of dead dogs I don't even know."

"Don't you like dogs?"

" Four-legged ones, yes. But I like my friends alive."

"Oh ! It didn't kill any of them. They are all strong
and hearty. But if you're so domestic in your tastes
why haven't you settled in life ? "

"Been waiting to find the woman of my dreams."

"And you haven't found her?"

"Not up to yesterday."

"Oh! I forgot," she said archly; "you're so timid! "

"Honestly, I was."

"Up to yesterday!" she murmured. "Well, tell me
what your dreams demanded ? What kind of a creature
must she be?"

"I have forgotten."

"What! Forgotten the dreams of your ideal
woman? "

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Yesterday."

"Thanks. We are getting on beautifully, aren't we?
You will get over your timidity in time, I'm sure."

He smiled, looked down at the pattern of the carpet
and did not speak for some minutes. His soul was

Beside Beautiful Waters 229

thrilled and satisfied in her presence. As he lifted his
eyes from the floor they rested on the piano.

" Will you play for me, Miss Sallie ? Auntie says you
play delightfully."

"Auntie? Who is Auntie?"

"Mrs. Durham, my foster mother, of course. Excuse
my unconscious assumption of your familiarity with all
my antecedents. I can't get over the impression that
I have known you all my life."

"And that reminds me that I started to say some-
thing to you yesterday that was perfectly ridiculous,
but caught myself in time."

"I wish you had said it."

"Mrs. Durham is a great flatterer of those she loves.
She thinks I can play. But I'm the veriest amateur."

"Let me be the judge."

She was looking over her music, and he had opened
the piano.

"I'll play for you with pleasure. Sit there in that big
armchair. I'm sorry I tired you so early in the day
with my chatter."

And before he could protest her fingers were touching
the piano with the ease of the born musician.

He sat enraptured as he watched the sinuous grace
with which her fingers touched the ivory keys, and
heard their answering cry, which seemed the breath
of her ow -oul in echo.

She had an easy, apparently careless touch. To old,
familiar music she gave a charm that was new, adding
something indefinable to the musician's thought that
gave luminous power to its interpretation. He had no
knowledge of the technique of music, but now he knew
that she was improvising. The piano was the voice of
her own beautiful soul, and it was pulsing with a tender-
ness that melted him to tears.

230 The Leopard's Spots

Suddenly the music ceased, and she turned her face
full on his before he could brush away a big tear that
rolled down. She flushed, closed the piano, and quietly
resumed her place by his side.

"And, now, you haven't told me how well I played.
You're the first young man so careless."

"I have told you."

"How?"

"The way you told me yesterday that you under-
stood me — with a tear."

"I appreciate it more than words."

"So did I," he slowly said. Again a long silence.

" But we do love to hear folks say in words what they
think sometimes. I confess I was immensely elated
over the fine things the paper said about me this
morning."

"It's a wonder, too. Our editor is a cranky sort of
fellow. I was afraid he'd say a lot of mean things about
you. But Papa says you swallowed him whole."

"Did you wish him to say kind things about me? "

"Of course," she said, and then the look of mischief
came back in her eye. "Were you not our guest? I
should have felt like whipping him if he hadn't said
nice things."

"Then I'll tell you what I think about your playing.
You gave those strings a soul for the first time for me — •
beautiful, living, throbbing, that spoke a r ^sage of its
own. The piece you improvised I shall never forget.
Such music seems to me the grasping of the infinite by
hands that touch the impalpable and bringing it for a
moment within the sphere of matter that a kindred soul
may hear and see and feel."

She started to make some reply, but her lips quivered
and she looked away across the valley at the river and
made no answer.

Beside Beautiful Waters 231

At dinner the General was in his most genial mood,
laughing and joking, and drawing out Gaston on politics
and cotton-mill developments, and trying with all his
might to tease his daughter.

As he took his departure for the mills, he said : "Young
man, I'd ask you to go with me and look at the machin-
ery, but I see it's no use. I heard her twisting you around
her finger with that piano awhile ago."

"Papa, don't be so silly!" cried Sallie, slipping her
arm around him, putting one hand over his mouth, and
kissing him. "Go on to your work. I'll entertain
Mr. Gaston."

"Indeed you will !" he shouted, throwing her another
kiss as he left.

"He's the dearest father any girl ever had in this
world. I know you loved yours, didn't you, Mr.
Gaston?"

"Mine was killed in battle, Miss Sallie. I never knew
him. But I had the most beautiful mother that ever
lived. I lost her when a mere boy. And the world
has never been the same since. I envy you."

"I forgot. Forgive me," she softly said, looking up
into his face with tenderness.

" If I had only had a sister ! How my heart used to
ache when I'd see other boys playing with a sister ! My
poor little starved soul was so hungry I would go off
in the woods sometimes and cry for hours."

"I wish I had known you when you were a little
boy — I can't conceive of a dignified orator swaying
thousands running around as a barefoot boy. But
you must have gone barefoot, for I think Papa said
so, didn't he?"

"Indeed I did, and sometimes I am afraid for the
very good reason I didn't have any shoes."

"Well, you wouldn't have worn them if you had. I

232 The Leopard's Spots

always wanted to be a boy just to go barefooted. I
think girls lose so much of a child's life by having to
wear shoes."

"But you never knew what it meant to want shoes
and not be able to have them," he said, looking at the
shining tips of her slippers peeping from the edge of
her dress.

1 ' No ; but I never thought these things made a great
difference in our lives, after all. I believe it is what we
are, not what we have, that gives life meaning."

He looked at her intently.

" I must get ready now for our drive. The horse will
be here in ten minutes. Enjoy the view on the porch
until I am ready," and she bounded up the stairs to
her room.

In a few minutes she was by his side again, dressed in
spotless white as he had seen her first. She lifted the
lines over the sleek horse and he dashed swiftly down
the drive.

Oh, the peace and bliss of that drive along the lonely
river road by its cool green banks !

How he poured out to her his inmost thoughts — things
he had not dared to whisper alone with himself and God.
And then he wondered why he had thus laid bare his
secret dreams to this girl he had known but twenty-
four hours. Nonsense ! Down in his soul he knew he had
known her forever. Before the world was made, ages
and ages ago in eternity, he had known her. He turned
to her now, drawn by a resistless force, as a plant turns
toward the sunlight for its life. How he could talk that
day ! All he had ever known of art and beauty, all
he knew of the deep truths of life, were on his lips, leap-
ing forth in simple but impassioned words. For hours
he lay at her feet where she sat on a rock, high up on
the cliffs overlooking the river, and poured out his heart

Beside Beautiful Waters 233

like a child. And she listened with a dreamy look as
though to the music of a master.

At last she sprang to her feet and looked at her
watch.

"Oh! Mamma will be furious. It will be after sun-
down before we can get home. We must hurry."

"I'll make it all right with your Mamma," he replied,
as though he were skilled in meeting such emergencies.

"Don't you speak to her. It'll be all I can do to
manage her."

The twilight was gathering when they reached the
house, and an angry, anxious mother was waiting high
up on the stoop.

"Watch me smooth every wrinkle out of her brow
now," she whispered, as she flew up the steps.

Before her mother could say a word, a white hand was
on her mouth and pretty lips were whispering some-
thing in her ears she had never heard before. There
was the sound of a kiss, and he heard Sallie say, "Not
a word!"

And the mother greeted him with a smile and a
curiously searching look. She chatted pleasantly until
her daughter returned from her room, and then left her.
Again it was nearly twelve o'clock before he reached
the hotel.

The next morning Bob St. Clare broke in on him
before he was out of bed.

" Look here, you sly dog, what are you doing slipping
and sliding around here yet?"

" Bob, you're the man I want to see. Tell me all you
know about the Worths."

' ' The Worths ? Which one ? "

"There's only one so far as I can see."

"Well, you may find out there's two if you should
happen to collide with the General."

234 The Leopard's Spots

"Does he cut up at times?"

11 He's all right till he turns on you, and then you want
to find shelter."

"Did you ever run up against him?"

"No; I never got that far. He's hail-fellow-well-met
with every youngster in town. He will laugh and joke
about his daughter until he thinks she is in earnest about
a fellow, and then he swoops down on him like a hawk.
I'll bet a hundred dollars he's playing you now for all
you're worth against the latest favourite. But Miss
Sallie — she's an angel!"

"Look here, Bob, you're not in love with her?"

"Well, I'm convalescing at present, my boy. Every
boy in town has been there, but I don't believe she
cares a snap for a man of us unless it's that big red-
headed McLeod. I can't make his position out exactly."

"Did she jolt you hard when you hit the ground?"

"Easiest thing you ever saw. She has a supreme
genius for painless cruelty. When the time comes she
can pull your eye tooth out in such a delicate, friendly
way you will have to swear she hasn't hurt you."

"You still go?"

"Lord, yes; we all do — sort of a congress of the lost
meet down there. They all hang on. She keeps the
friendship of every poor devil she kills."

"You know you make the cold chills run down my
back when you talk like that."

"Are you in love with her, Gaston?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know."

"Then what in the thunder have you been doing out
there two days and nights, if you haven't made love
to her?"

"Just basking in the sun."

"Well, you are a fool. Eleven hours the first dap
and fifteen hours yesterday. Confound you ! Don't you

Beside Beautiful Waters 235

know a dozen fellows in town are cursing you for all
they can think of?"

"What about?"

"Why, for trying to hog the whole time, day and
night. She won't let a mother's son of them come
near till you're gone."

"Well, that's immense!" exclaimed Gaston, slapping
his friend on the back.

11 Don't be too sure ! She's just sizing you up. She's
done the same thing a dozen times before."

"I don't believe it."

And he didn't go home until the end of the week,
when the last cent of his money was gone.

CHAPTER VII
DREAMS AND FEARS

HE was on the train at last, homeward bound.
Gazing out of the window of the car, he was
trying to find where he stood. He must
be in love. He faced the remarkable fact that he had
spent a whole week in Independence at an expensive
hotel, and squandered every cent of the small fee he had
received for his address, in what would be otherwise a
perfectly senseless manner.

Yet he felt rich. He was sure he had never spent
money so wisely and economically in his life. Beyond
the shadow of a doubt he was in love — desperately and
hopelessly committed to this one girl for life. He said
it in his heart with a shout of triumph. Life was not a
sterile desert of brute work. It was true. Love, the
magician of the ages, lived in this world of lost faiths
and dead religions.

Now that he was leaving he felt a tingling impulse to
leap off the train, cut across the fields and run back to
her — and he laughed aloud, just as the train came to a
sudden stop, and everybody looked at him and smiled.

A drummer looked up from a novel he was reading
and said:

"It is a fine day, partner, isn't it?"

"Never saw a finer," answered Gaston, with another
happy laugh.

He dwelt long and greedily on the consciousness of
this new vitalising secret he felt for the first time throb-

236

Dreams and Fears 237

bing in his soul. He bathed his heart in its warmth
until he could feel the red blood rush to the ends of his
fingers with its new fever. He breathed its perfume
until every nerve quivered. "I have never lived
before. No matter now if I die, I have lived," he said,
slowly and reverently.

He wondered long and wistfully what was in her
heart while this wild tumult was going on in him. He
wondered if it were possible she loved him. It seemed
too good to be true. He was afraid to believe it. And
yet his whole soul with every power of his being cried
out that she did. He could not have been mistaken in
the message he read in the liquid depths of her eyes
and the delicate tenderness of her voice. "Words may
say nothing, but these signs are the language of the
universal. Still, others had been equally sure, and been
deceived. Might not he, too, make the fatal mistake ?
It was possible. And there was the pain.

She had not uttered a single word in all the hours
they spent together that might not be interpreted in a
conventional, meaningless way.

Yet he had given to every one of these words a soul
meaning that spoke directly to his inner being and not
his ear.

He had never spoken a word of shallow love-making
to a woman in his life. To him love was too holy a
mystery. It would have been the blasphemy of the
Holy Ghost — a sin that would not be forgiven in this
world or the world to come. His college mates had
called him a crank on this subject, but he shut his
lips in a way that always closed the argument, and they
let him alone with his Idol.

"I am afraid yet to put it to the test," he said
at last. " I must have time to reveal my best self to
her. I must see her again, live close to her day by

238 The Leopard's Spots

day, and bring to bear on her every power of bod)
and soul I possess."

Mrs. Durham met him with dancing eyes. "Oh, I've
heard from you, sir!"

"Kiss me, Auntie, and be kind. I'm in the last
stages of delirium."

He took both her hands in his and looked at her long.
"How good you've been to me, Auntie, in all the past.
You never looked so beautiful as to-day. I want to
thank you for every word you've said to Miss Sallie for
me. It may have helped just a little, anyway."

"Well, you are indeed in the last stages 1" she
exclaimed, gleefully.

"And you are glad of it?"

"Of course I am; it will make a man of you."

"But suppose I lose?"

She was silent a moment and then slipped her arm
gently about him, drew down his ear and whispered:
"You shall not lose !, I've set my heart on it."

He pressed her hand and said, "How like my sweet
mother's voice was that!"

And then they fell to discussing plans for giving Miss
Sallie and her friend a jolly time at the Springs.

"But, Auntie, these plans don't seem to me exactly
what I'd like. You see, I want to be the whole thing.
It may be hopelessly selfish, but I can't help it."

"Well, that isn't best."

"Say, Auntie, what do I look like, anyway? How
would you describe my make-up ? Let's get at the weak
•spots and splint them up a little. You know, I never
seriously cared a rap before about my looks."

"Well," she answered, slowly regarding him, "I'll
be perfectly frank with you. You are tall — at least
two inches taller than the average man, and your
muscular body gives one the impression of power. You

Dreams and Fears 239

have black hair, dark-brown eyes that look out from
your shaggy, straight eyebrows with a piercing light."

"You think the brows too shaggy?"

"No; I like them. They suggest reserve power and
brain capacity."

" Good ! I never thought of that."

"You have a face that is massive, almost leonine, and
a square-cut, determined mouth, that, always clean-
shaven, sometimes looks too grim."

"I'll remember that and look pleasant."

"You have a big hand and sometimes shake hands
too strongly. You have a handsome, aristocratic foot
when you wear decent shoes. You often walk hump-
shouldered, and sit so, too."

"I'll brace up."

"You have deep vertical wrinkles between your eyes
just where your straight eyebrows meet."

"Heavens, I didn't know I had wrinkles!"

"Yes; but they mean habits of thought, like your
stooping shoulders. I don't object to such wrinkles in a
man's face. But the best feature of all your stock is
your eye. Your big brown eyes are about the only
perfect thing about you. There's infinite tenderness in
them. Now and then they gleam with a hidden fire
that tells of enthusiasm, thought, will, character, and
dauntless courage."

She looked and they were misty with tears.

He pressed her hand. "Auntie, I didn't know how
much you've loved me all these years. How love opens
one's eyes!"

"You have a high temper, plenty of pride, and are
given to looking on the dark side of things too quickly,
You lack poise of character and sureness of touch yet»
but with it all yours is a masterful nature."

"One you think that a perfect woman could love?*fi

240 The Leopard's Spots

"There are no perfect women; but I'll match you
against any woman I know. So there, now, take
courage."

"I will," he gravely answered.

He hurried to his office and read his mail. There
were two letters retaining his services for jury work in
important cases. His heart leaped at the sign of coming
success. What a new meaning love gave to every
event in life.

He turned to his books and began immediately a
searching study of every question involved in these
cases. He would carry the court by storm. He would
lead the jury spellbound by his eloquence to a certain
verdict. How clear his brain ! He felt he was alive to
his finger-tips, and argus-eyed.

He worked hour after hour without the slightest
fatigue or knowledge of the flight of time. He looked
up at last with surprise to find it was night, and was
startled by the voice of the Preacher calling him from
below.

"What's the matter with you? Mrs. Durham sent
ine to find you. She was afraid you had gone up on
the roof and walked off."

"I'll be ready in a minute, Doctor," he called from
the window.

"I haven't known you to take to law so violently in
four years. What's up? Got a capital case?"

"Yes, I believe I have. It's a matter of life and
death to one poor soul, anyhow."

"Now, honour bright, haven't you been working all
this afternoon on a love-letter that you've just finished
and addressed to Independence?"

"No, sir. To tell you the fact, I didn't dare to ask
her to write to me. I knew I couldn't control a pen."

"My boy, I wish you success with all my heart. It

Dreams and Fears 241

makes me young again to look into your face. I've
had my supper. When you've finished your confab
with your Auntie, come out here in the square to
the seat under the old oak; I want to talk to you
on some important business."

"What have you been doing?" asked Mrs. Durham.

"Building a home for her! " he cried in a whisper,
lie went behind the chair where his foster mother
sat pouring his tea, bent low and kissed her high white
forehead. "My own Mother — I'll never call you
Auntie again !"

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she kissed his hand,
tenderly holding it to her lips.

"Ah! Love is a wonder-worker, isn't he, Charlie?"

"Yes; and I can't realise the joy that lifts and inspires
me when I think that I am one of the elect. It's too
good to be true. I have been initiated into the great
secret. I have tasted the water of Life. I shall not
see Death."

She looked at him with pride. "I knew you would
make a matchless lover. I envy Sallie her young eyes
and ears."

"You need not envy he*. You will never grow old."

"So much the worse if we miss the dreams that fill
the souls of the young," she said, with an accent of
sorrowful pride.

CHAPTER VIII
THE UNSOLVED RIDDLE

GASTON found the Preacher quietly smoking,
seated on the rustic under a giant oak that stood
in the corner of the square.

Under this tree the speakers' stand had always been
built for joint debates in political campaigns.

Here, when a boy, he had heard the great debate
between Zebulon B. Vance and Judge Thomas Settle
in the fierce campaign which followed the overthrow of
Legree when the Republican party, under the leader-
ship of Judge Settle, made its desperate effort for life.
Settle, who was a man of masterful personality, eloquent,
and in dead earnest in his appeal for a new South, had
made a speech of great power to a crowd that were
hostile to every idea for which he stood; and yet he
dazzled or stunned them into sullen silence.

And then he recalled with flashes of memory vivid as
lightning the miracle that had followed. He could see
Vance now as he slowly lifted his big lion-like head, and
calmly looked over the sea of faces with eagle eyes
that could flash with resistless humour or blaze with the
fury of elemental passion. He reviewed the terrible
past in which he had played the tragic r61e of their war
Governor, and tore into tatters with the facts of history
the logic of his opponent. And then he opened his
batteries of wit and ridicule — wit that cut to the
heart's red blood, and yet convulsed the hearer with its
unexpected turn. Ridicule that withered and scorched

242

The Unsolved Riddle 243

what it touched into ashes. Five thousand people now
in breathless suspense as he swung them into heaven
on the wings of deathless words, now screaming with
laughter and now hushed in tears.

The scene that followed this triumph ! Two stalwart
mountain men snatched him from the rostrum and bore
him on their shoulders through the shouting, weeping
crowd. Women pressed close and kissed his hands, and
old men reached forward their hands to touch his
garments. Ah, if he could inherit the power of this king
among men ! To-night, as Gaston walked under that
tree with his heart beating with the ecstasy of a new-
found source of life, he felt that he could do, and that
he would do, what the master had done before him.

"Charlie, I've heard some startling news since you
left home, and I can't sleep nights thinking about it."

" You've heard of McLeod's scheme."

"Exactly. And it means the ruin of this state and
the ruin of the South unless it can be defeated."

" How are you going to do it ? "

"It's a puzzle, but it's got to be done. Half the
farmers in the strongholds of Democracy are crazy over
their fool Sub-Treasury and a hundred other fakir
dreams. McLeod has promised them everything — Sub-
Treasury, pumpkin leaves for money — anything they
want if they will join forces with his niggers and carry
the state. You are the man to begin now a quiet but
thorough organisation of the young men and oust the
fools from control of the party.

"When the white race begin to hobnob with the
Negro and seek his favour they must grant him absolute
equality. That means ultimately social as well as
political equality. You can't ask a man to vote for you
and kick him down your front doorstep and tell him
to come around the back way."

244 The Leopard's Spots

"I think you exaggerate the social danger, but I see
the political end of it."

"I don't exaggerate in the least. I am looking into
the future. This racial instinct is the ordinance of our
life. Lose it and we have no future. One drop of
Negro blood makes a Negro. It kinks the hair, flattens
the nose, thickens the lip, puts out the light of intellect,
and lights the fires of brutal passions. The beginning
of Negro equality as a vital fact is the beginning of the
end of this nation's life. There is enough Negro blood
here to make mulatto the whole Republic."

"Such a danger seems too remote for serious alarm
to me," replied the younger man.

"Ah! There's the tragedy! " passionately cried the
Preacher. "You younger men are growing careless and
indifferent to this terrible problem. It's the one
unsolved and unsolvable riddle of the coming century.
Can you build, in a Democracy, a nation inside a nation
of two hostile races ? We must do this or become mulatto,
and that is death. Every inch in the approach of these
races across the barriers that separate them is a move-
ment toward death. You cannot seek the Negro vote
without asking him to your home sooner or later. If
you ask him to your house, he will break bread with you
at last. And if you seat him at your table, he has the
right to ask your daughter's hand in marriage."

"It seems to me a far cry to that. But I see the
political crisis. What is your plan?"

"This — organise the young Democracy in every
township in the state and put yourself at its head,
control the primaries and down the old crowd. They
have got to follow you. Fight the campaign with the
desperation of despair. If you are defeated, God
have mercy on us, but you will be ready for the
next battle."

The Unsolved Riddle 245

"I'll do it ! " said Gaston, with emphasis.

"Then I want you to go on a mission to Colonel Duke,
the President of the National Farmers' Alliance. He's
a good Baptist. He means well, but he's crazy. He
dreams of the Presidency when he has established the
Sub-Treasury for the farmers. He's afraid of the Negro,
and is nervous about using him. He knows I am the
most influential Baptist preacher in the state. Tell
him I say you will win, and that we will give him
the nomination for Governor and put him in line for
the Presidency."

"When shall I go to see him?"

"Immediately. Get ready to-night."

The next week McLeod was seated in his office at
Hambright receiving reports from his political hench-
men at Raleigh.

"I tell you, McLeod, there's a hitch. Something's
dropped. Duke's as coy as a maid of sixteen. He says
no decision can be made now until he submits a lot of
rot to all the lodges of the Alliance and the 'Referen-
dum' decides these points. You'd better get hold of
him and comb the kinks out of him quick."

McLeod's eyes flashed with anger as he twisted the
points of his red mustache.

"It's that damned Baptist Preacher ! " he said. "I'll
get even with him yet if it's the only thorough job I do
on this earth."

CHAPTER IX
THE RHYTHM OF THE DANCE

BEFORE boarding the train he was to take for
Raleigh, he lingered with Mrs. Durham talking,
talking, talking about the wonder of his love.
As he rose to leave he said, "Now, Mother, dear "

"Charlie, you just say that so beautifully as to make
me your slave."

"Of course I do. What I was going to say is, I
can't write to her. I don't dare. You can. Tell her all
about me, won't you? Everything that you think
will interest and please her, and that will be discreet.
Your intuitions will tell you how far to go. Tell her
how hard I'm working and what an important mission
I've undertaken, and the tremendous things that hang
on its outcome. And tell her how impatiently I'm
waiting for her to come to the Springs. Be sure to tell
her that."

"All right. I'll act as your attorney in you absence.
But hurry back; she must not get here first. I want
you to be on the spot."

"I'll be here if I have to give up politics and go
into business — and you know how I hate that word
'business.'"

"I'll telegraph you if she comes."

"Don't let her come till I get back. Tell her the hotel
isn't fit to receive guests yet — it never is, for that matter
— but anything to give me time to get here."

He worked with indomitable courage for two weeks,

246

The Rhythm of the Dance 247

visiting the principal towns in the state, and everywhere
arousing intense enthusiasm. There was something
contagious in his spirit. The young fellows were
charmed by his eager, intense way of looking at things ;
they caught the infection and he made hundreds of
staunch friends.

"You're just in time!" cried his mother, greeting
him with radiant face on his return. "She is coming
to-morrow. I've a beautiful letter from her — I think
one of the sweetest letters a girl ever wrote."

"Let me see it !"

"No."

"Why, Mother, I thought you were all on my side !"

"But I'm not. I'm a woman, and you can't see
some things she says."

"Then it's something awfully nice about me."

"Maybe the opposite."

"Then you'd resent it for me."

"I love her, too, sir."

"Let me see just the tip end of it where she signs
her name?"

"You can see that much; there "

"Doesn't she write a lovely hand?" He looked long
and tenderly. "That pretty name — Sallie ! So old-
fashioned and so homelike. It's music, isn't it?"

"I didn't know you could be so silly, Charlie."

"It is funny, isn't it? You know I think, after
all, we are made out of the same stuff, saint and
sinner, philosopher and fool. The differences are only
skin deep."

"You don't think ~;he is made out of ordinary clay?"

"Oh! Lord, no; I meant the men. Every woman is
something divine to me. I think of God as a woman,
not a man — a great loving Mother of all Life. If I
ever saw the face of God it was in my mother's face."

248 The Leopard's Spots

"Hush! You will make me do anything you wish.'*

"No, no; I don't want to see that letter unless you
think it best."

"Well, you will not see any more of it, sir."

When Gaston met them at the depot with a carriage
to take Sallie, her mother, and Helen Lowell, her
Boston schoolmate, to the Springs, the first passenger
to alight was Bob St. Clare.

"What in the thunder are you doing here? This
town is quarantined against you," said Gaston.

"Hush !" said Bob, in a stage whisper. "She's here.
There's her valise."

"That's why you can't land. Two's company,
three's a crowd. I like you, Bob, but I won't stand
for this."

The crowd was pouring off the train and had cut off
Sallie's party in the center of the car.

"Gaston, I just came up for your sake. I'm looking
after Miss Lowell. I'm lost, ruined. Scared to say a
word. I thought maybe you'd help me out. We'll
pool chances. I'll talk for you and you talk for me."

"It's a bargain, St. Clare."

"I want a separate carriage — get me one quick!"

In a few moments, the brief introduction over,
Gaston was seated in the carriage facing Sallie and her
mother, whirling along the road, over the long hills
toward the Campbell Sulphur Springs in the woods,
two miles from the town.

How beautiful and fresh she looked to him even in a
dusty travelling dress ! He was drinking the nectar
from the depths of her eyes.

"Now, don't you think Helen the prettiest girl you
ever saw, Mr. Gaston?" she asked.

"I hadn't noticed it."

"Where were your eyes?"

The Rhythm of the Dance 249

"Elsewhere. I'm so glad you are going to spend a
month at the Springs, Miss Sallie. I used to go to
school there when a little boy. They had a girls'
school there in the winter and boys under twelve
were admitted. I know every nook and corner of
the big forest back of the hotel. I'll see that you
don't get lost."

"That will be fine. But you must bring every good-
looking boy in the county and make him bow down and
worship Helen. She is not used to it, but she is tickled
to death over these Southern boys, and I'm going to
give her the best time she ever had in her life."

"I'll do everything you command — except bow down
myself. Bob's agreed to do that."

She smiled in spite of her effort to look serious, and
her mother pinched her arm. She laughed.

"So you and Bob St. Clare were out there plotting
before we could get out of the train?"

"Nothing unlawful, I assure you."

The first day she allowed Gaston to monopolise, and
then began his torture. She declared there were others
with whom she must be friendly. She determined
to give a ball to Helen the next week, and began
preparations.

It was a new business for Gaston, but he did his best
to please her, in a pathetic, half-hearted sort of way.
He ran all sorts of errands, and executed her orders
with tact.

" Oh, Sallie, let the ball go ! I don't care for it. I
can do nothing to ever repay you for the good time I've
been having," said Helen, as they sat in her room one
night.

"We are going to have it, I tell you. I don't care
how much Mr. Gaston sulks. I'm not taking orders
from him."

250 The Leopard's Spots

"No; but you'd like to — you know it."

"What an idea!"

"You know you like him better than all the others
put together."

"Nonsense ! I'm as free as a bird ! "

"Then what are you blushing for?"

"I'm not." But her face was scarlet.

"You Southern girls are so queer. The moment you
like a man you're as si}7 as a cat and deny that you even
know him. When I find the man I love I don't care
who knows it, if he loves me."

"What do you think of Bob St. Clare?"

"I like him."

"Hasn't he made love to you yet?"

"No; and the only one of the crowd who hasn't. I
don't mind confessing that I never had love made to me
before this visit. In Boston it's a serious thing for a
young man to call once. The second call means a
family council, and at the third he must make a declara-
tion of his intentions or face consequences. Down
here the boys don't seem to have anything to do
except to make their girl friends happy, and feel they
are the queens of the earth, and that their only mission
is to minister to them. And some of your girls are
engaged to six boys at the same time."

"Don't you like it?"

"It's glorious. I feel that if I hadn't come down
here to see you I'd have missed the meaning of life."

"Don't our boys make love beautifully?"

"I never dreamed of anything like it. They make it
so seriously, so dead in earnest, you can't help believing
them."

"And Bob hasn't said a word?"

"Hasn't breathed a hint."

"Then you have him sure. They are hit hard when

The Rhythm of the Dance 251

they are silent like that. Bob made love to me the
second day he ever saw me."

"Don't tease me, dear," said Helen, as she put her
pretty rosy cheek against the dark beauty of the South.
"Do you really think he likes me seriously?"

"He's crazy about you, goose!"

There was the sound of a kiss.

"I can't tell stories about it like you, Sallie; I'm
afraid I'm in love with him," she whispered.

"Well, I'll make him court you to-morrow or have
him thrashed, if you say so."

"Don't you dare!"

"Then do just as I tell you about this ball and get
yourself up regardless."

On the night of the ball, Gaston, sitting out on the
porch, felt nervous and fidgety, like a fish out of water.
He knew he had no business there, and yet he couldn't
go away. They had a quarrel about the ball. Sallie
had insisted that Gaston honour her by coming in
evening dress whether he danced or not.

"But, Miss Sallie, I'll feel like a fool. Everybody in
the country knows that I never entered a ballroom."

"Do you care so much what everybody thinks
about you?"

"No; but I care what I think of myself."

"Well, if you don't come in full dress suit I won't
speak to you."

He turned pale in spite of his effort at self-control.
Then a queer steel-like look came into his eyes.

"I shall be more than sorry to fail to please you, but
I have no dress suit. I have never had time for social
frivolities. I can't afford to buy one for this occasion.
I couldn't be nigger enough to hire one, so that's the
end of it. 1*11 have to come dressed in my own fashion
or stay at home."

252 The Leopard's Spots

"Then you can stay at home," she snapped.

"I'll not do it," he coolly replied.

"Well, I like your insolence."

"I'm glad you do. I'll come as I come to all such
functions, an outsider. I'll sit out here on the porch
in the shadows and see it from afar. If I could only
dance, I assure you I'd try to fill every number of your
card. Not being able to do so, I simply decline to
make a fool of myself." j

"For that compliment I'll compromise with you.
Wear that big pompous Prince Albert suit you spoke in
at Independence and I'll come out on the porch and
chat with you awhile."

He sat there now in the shadows waiting for this ball
to begin. It was a clear night the first week in June.
The new moon was hanging just over the tree-tops. His
heart was full to bursting with the thought that the
girl he loved would, in a few minutes, be whirling over
that polished floor to the strains of a waltz, with another
man's arm around her. He never knew how deeply he
hated dancing before — that rhythmic touch of the
human body, set to the melody of motion, and voiced
in the passionate cry of music. He felt its challenge
to his love to mortal combat — his love that claimed
this one woman as his own, body and soul.

The music from the Italian band was in full swing,
its plaintive notes instinct with the passion of sunny
Italy, a music all Southern people love.

He felt that he would choke. A sudden thought
came to him. Tearing a sheet of paper from a note-
book, he scrawled this line upon it:

"Dear Miss Sallie: Please let me see you a moment
in the parlour before you enter the ballroom. Gaston."

At least he would see her in her ball costume first.

The Rhythm of the Dance 253

Yes, and if she should hate him for it, he would beg
her not to dance that night. He saw McLeod, bowing
and scraping in the ballroom, arrayed in faultless full
dress, and glancing toward the door. He knew he was
waiting for her to ask her to dance. How he would
like to wring his handsome neck !

The boy returned immediately and said the lady was
waiting in the parlour. He entered with a sense of
fear and confusion.

She came to him with her bare arm extended, a daz-
zling vision of beauty. She was dressed in a creamy
white crape ball gown, cut modestly decollete over her
full bust and gleaming shoulders, sleeveless, and held
with tiny straps across the curve of the upper arm.

He was stunned. She smiled in triumph, conscious
of her resistless power.

"Forgive me for my selfishness in keeping you here
just a moment from the rest. I wished to see you
first/'

"What! To inspect, like Mamma; to see if I look
all right?"

"No; with a mad desire to keep you as long as
possible from the others."

Then she looked up at him and said slowly and softly :

"Would it please you very much if I were not to
dance to-night? "

"I wouldn't dare ask so selfish a thing of you. It is
with you a simple habit of polite society, and you enjoy it
as a child does play. I understand that, and yet if you
do not dance to-night I feel as though I would crawl
round this world on my hands and knees for you if you
would ask it. There are men waiting for you in that
ballroom whom I hate."

She looked at him timidly as though she were afraid
he was about to say too much, and replied:

254 The Leopard's Spots

"Then I will not dance to-night. I'll just preside
over the ball and let Helen be the queen."

"Words have no power to convey my gratitude. I
count all my little triumphs in life nothing to this. You
promised to join me on the porch. Don't change that
part of the programme. I will talk to your mother
until you come."

Gaston went downstairs treading on air. He sought
her mother and devoted himself to her with supreme
tact. He discovered her tastes and prejudices and paid
her that knightly deference some young men express
easily and naturally to their elders. He had always
been a favourite with old people. He prided himself
on it. This faculty he regarded as a badge of honour.
As he sat there and talked with this frail little woman
his heart went out to her in a great yearning love. She
was the mother of the bride of his soul. He would love
her forever for that. No matter whether she loved him
or hated him, he would love the mother who gave te
his thirsty lips the water of Life.

Drawn irresistibly by the magnetism of his mind
and manner, Mrs. Worth forgot the flight of time and
thought but a moment had passed when, an hour
after the ball had opened, Sallie came out leaning
on McLeod's arm.

"Mamma, have you been monopolising Mr. Gaston
for a whole hour?"

"He hasn't been here a half -hour, Miss!" cried hei
mother.

"He's been here an hour and ten minutes. I'm going
to tell Papa on you just as soon as I get home."

"Go back to your dancing."

" No, thank you; I have an engagement to take a walk
with your beau. Come, Mr. Gaston."

They walked to the spring and along the winding path

The Rhythm of the Dance 255

by the brook at the foot of the hill, and found a rustic
seat. They were both silent for several moments.

"I saw you were charming Mamma, or I would have
come sooner."

"I hope she likes me."

"She has been praising you ever since your visit to
Independence. I never saw her talk so long to a young
man in my life before. You must have hypnotised her."

"I hope so."

A strange happiness filled her heart. She was afraid
to look it in the face, and yet she dared to play with
the thought.

"Are you enjoying your triumph to-night ? I've had
war inside."

M I feel like I am the Emperor of the World and that
the Evening Star is smiling on my court ! "

She smiled, tossed her head, leaned against the tree
and said:

" I wonder if you are in the habit of saying things like
that to girls?"

"Upon my soul and honour, no."

"Then thanks. I'll dream about that, maybe."

They returned to the hotel and McLeod claimed her.
They went back the same walk, and by a freak of fate he
chose the same seat she had just vacated with Gaston.

"Miss Sallie, you are of age now. You know that I
have loved you passionately since you were a child. I
have made my way in life ; I am hungry for a home and
your love to glorify it. Why will you keep me waiting ? "

"Simply because I know now I do not love you,
Allan, and I never will. Once and forever, here, to-night
I give you my last answer — I will not be your wife."

"Then don't give the answer to-night — I can wait,"
he interrupted. " I am just on the threshold of a great
career. Success is sure. I can offer you a dazzling

256 The Leopard's Spots

position. Don't give me such an answer. Leave the
old answer — to wait."

"No, I will not. I do not love you. If you were to
become the President, it would not change this fact, and
it is everything. "

"Then you love another."

"That is none of your business, sir. I have known
you since childhood. I have had ample time to know
my own mind."

" All right; we will say good-by for the present. You
have made me a laughing-stock of young fools, but I can
stand it. I'll not give you up, and if I can't have you
no other man shall."

"If you leave my will out of the calculation you will
make a fatal mistake."

"Women have been known to change their wills."

Before leaving her that night Gaston held her hand
for an instant as he bade her good-by and said, "Miss
Sallie, I thank you with inexpressible gratitude for the
honour you have done me."

"I've just been wondering what you have done to
deserve it? "

"Absolutely nothing — that's why it is so sweet.
This has been the happiest day I ever lived. I cannot
see you again before you go. I leave to-morrow on
urgent business. May I come to Independence to see
you?"

"Yes; I'll be delighted to see you. Good-night."

Gaston was the last to return to Hambright. He
walked the two miles through the silent starlit woods.
He took a short cut his bare feet had travelled as a boy,
and with uncovered head walked slowly through the dim
aisles of great trees. It was good, this cool silence and
the soft mantle of the night about his soul. The stars
whispered love. The wind sighed it through the leaves.

The Rhythm of the Dance 257

He had withdrawn from the church in his college
days because he had grown to doubt everything —
God, heaven, hell and immortality. To-night as he
walked slowly home he heard that wonderful sentence
of the Old Bible ringing down the ages, wet with
tears and winged with hope:

"God is love.11

He said it now softly and reverently, and the tears
came unbidden from his soul. He felt close to the heart
of things. He knew he was close to the heart of nature.
What if nature was only another name for God ? And
he whispered it again:

"God is love."

"Ah! If I only knew it I would bow down and
worship Him forever!" he cried.

When Sallie reached her mother's room that night
Mrs. Worth was seated by her window.

"Why didn't you dance? "

"Didn't care to."

"Sly Miss, you can't fool me. You didn't dance
because Mr. Gaston couldn't. That was a dangerously
loud way to talk to him."

"How did you like him, Mamma? "

"Come here, dear, and sit on the edge of my chair.
I wish I knew when you were in earnest about a man.
I like him more than I can tell you. He talked to me
so beautifully about his mother that I wanted to kiss
him. He is charming."

"Why, Mamma!"

"I'd like him for a son. There's a wealth of deep
tenderness and manly power in him."

"Mamma, you're getting giddy!"

But she kissed her mother twice when she said
good-night.

CHAPTER X
THE HEART OF A VILLAIN

McLEOD had developed into a man of undoubted
power. He was but thirty-two years old.
and the dictator of his party in the state.

He had the fighting temperament which Southern
•people demand in their leaders. With this temperament
he combined the skill of subtle diplomatic tact. He
had no moral scruples of any kind. The problem of
expediency alone interested him in ethics.

McLeod's pet aversion was a preacher, especially a
Baptist or a Methodist. His choicest oaths he reserved
for them. He made a study of their weaknesses, and
could tell dozens of stories to their discredit, many of
them true. He had an instinct for finding their weak
spots and holding them, up to ridicule. He bought
every book of militant infidelity he could find and
memorised the bitterest of it. He took special pride
in scoffing at religion before the young converts of
Durham's church.

He was endowed with a personal magnetism that
fascinated the young as the hiss of a snake holds a bird.

His serious work was politics and sensualism. In
politics he was at his best. Here he was cunning,
plausible, careful, brilliant and daring. He never
lost his head in defeat or victory. He never forgot a
friend nor forgave an enemy. Of his foe he asked no
quarter and gave none.

His ambitions were purely selfish. He meant to

258

The Heart of a Villain 259

climb to the top. As to the means, the end would
justify them. He preferred to associate with white
people, but when it was necessary to win a Negro he
never hesitated to go any length. The center of the
universe to his mind was A. McLeod.

He was fond of saying to a crowd of youngsters whom
he taught to play poker and drink whisky:

" Boys, I know the world. The great man is the man
who gets there."

He was generous with his money, and the boys called
him a jolly good fellow. He used to say in explanation
of this careless habit:

"It won't do for an ordinary fool to throw away
money as I do. I play for big stakes. I'm not a spend-
thrift. I'm simply sowing seed. I can wait for the
harvest."

And when they would admire this overmuch he
would warn them:

"As a rule, my advice is, Get money. Get it fairly
and squarely if you can, but whatever you do — get it.
When you come right down to it, money's your first,
last, best and only friend. Others promise well, but
when the scratch comes they fail. Money never fails."

A boy of fifteen asked him one day when he was
mellow with liquor:

"McLeod, which would you rather be, President of
the United States or a big millionaire?"

"Boys," he replied, smacking his lips and running
his tongue around his cheeks inside and softly caressing
them with one hand, while he half closed his eyes,
"they say old Simon Legree is worth fifty millions of
dollars and that his actual income is twenty per cent, on
that. They say he stole most of it, and that every dollar
represents a broken life, and every cent of it could be
painted red with the blood of his victims. Even so, I

260 The Leopard's Spots

would rather be in Legree's shoes and have those millions
a year than to be Almighty God with hosts of angels
singing psalms to me through all eternity."

And the shallow-pated satellites cheered this blas-
phemy with open-eyed wonder.

The weakest side of his nature was that turned toward
women. He was vain as a peacock, and the darling
wish of his soul was to be a successful libertine. This
was the secret of the cruelty back of his desire of
boundless wealth.

He had the intellectual forehead of his Scotch father,
large, handsomely modelled features, nostrils that
dilated and contracted widely, and the thick sensous
lips of his mother. His eyebrows were straight, thick,
and suggested undoubted force of intellect. His hair
was a deep red, thick and coarse, but his mustache was
finer, and it was his special pride to point its delicately
curved tips.

His vanity was being stimulated just now by two
opposite forces. He was in lcve, as deeply as such a
nature could love, with Sallie Worth. Her continued
rejection of his suit had wounded his vanity, but had
roused all the pugnacity of his nature to strengthen
this apparent weakness.

iHe had discovered recently that he exercised a potent
influence over Mrs. Durham. The moment he was
repulsed his vanity turned for renewed strength toward
her. He saw instantly the immense power even the
slighest indiscretion on her part would give him over the
Preacher's life. He knew that while he was not
a demonstrative man, he loved his wife with intense
devotion. He knew, too, that here was the Preacher's
weakest spot. In his tireless devotion to his work he
had starved his wife's heart. He had noticed that she
always called him "Doctor Durham" now, and that

The Heart of a Villain 261

he had gradually fallen into the habit of calling her
"Mrs. Durham."

This had been fixed in their habits, perhaps, by the
change from housekeeping to living at the hotel. Since
old Aunt Mary's death, Mrs. Durham had given up her
struggle with the modern Negro servants, closed her
house, and they had boarded for several years.

He saw that if he could entangle her name with his
in the dirty gossip of village society he could strike
his enemy a mortal blow. He knew that she had grown
more and more jealous of the crowds of silly women
that always dog the heels of a powerful minister with
flattery and open admiration. He determined to make
the experiment.

Mrs. Durham, while nine years his senior, did not look
a day over thirty. Her face was as smooth and soft and
round as a girl's, her figure as straight and full, and her
every movement instinct with stored vital powers that
had never been drawn upon.

She was in a dangerous period of her mental develop-
ment. She had been bitterly disappointed in life. Her
loss of slaves and the ancestral prestige of great wealth
had sent the steel shaft of a poisoned dagger into her
soul. She was unreconciled to it. While she was pass-
ing through the anarchy of Legree's regime which
followed the war, her unsatisfied maternal instincts
absorbed her in the work of relieving the poor and the
broken. But when the white race rose in its might and
shook off this nightmare and order and a measure of
prosperity had come, she had fallen back into brooding
pessimism.

She had reached the hour of that soul crisis when she
felt life would almost in a moment slip from her grasp,
and she asked herself the question, "Have I lived?"
And she could not answer.

262 The Leopard's Spots

She found herself asking the reasons for things long
accepted as fixed and eternal. What was good, right,
truth? And what made it good, right, or true?

And she beat the wings of her proud woman's heart
against the bars that held her, until tired and bleeding,
she was exhausted but unconquered.

She was furious with McLeod for his open association
with Negro politicians.

"Allan, in my soul, I am ashamed for you when I see
you thus degrade your manhood."

"Nonsense, Mrs. Durham," he replied; "the most beau-
tiful flower grows in dirt, but the flower is not dirt."

"Well, I knew you were vain, but that caps the
climax! "

" Isn't my figure true, whether you say I'm dog-fennel
or a - pink? "

"No; you are not a flower. Will is the soul of man.
The flower is ruled by laws outside itself. A man's will
is creative. You can make law. You can walk with
your head among the stars, and you choose to crawl in
a ditch. I am out of patience with you."

" But only for a purpose. You must judge by tke end
in view."

"There's no need to stoop so low."

1 ' I assure you it is absolutely necessary to my aims
in life. And they are high enough. I appreciate your
interest in me more than I dare to tell you. You have
always been kind to me since I was a wild red-
headed brute of a boy. And you have always been my
supreme inspiration in work. While others have
cursed and scoffed, you smiled at me, and your smile
has warmed my heart in its blackest nights."

She looked at him with a motherlike tenderness.

"What ends could be high enough to justify sucb
methods? "

The Heart of a Villain 263

11 1 hate poverty and squalor. It's been my fate. I've
sworn to climb out of it, if I have to fight or buy my
way through hell to do it. I dream of a palatial home,
of soft white beds, grand banquet halls, and music and
wine, and the faces of those I love near me. Besides,
the work I am doing is the best for the state and
the nation."

"But how can you walk arm in arm with a big black
Negro, as they say you do, to get his vote? "

''Simply because they represent 120,000 votes I need.
You can't tell their colour when they get into the box.
I use these fools as so many worms. My political
creed is for public consumption only. I never allow
anybody to impose on me. I don't allow even Allan
McLeod to deceive me with a paper platform or a lot of
articulated wind. I'm not a preacher."

She winced, blushed and looked at him curiously for a
moment.

"No, you are not a preacher. I wish you were a
better man."

"So do I, when I am with you," he answered in a low,
serious voice.

"But I can't get over the sense of personal degrada-
tion involved in your association with Negroes as your
equal," she persisted.

"The trouble is you're an unreconstructed rebel.
Women never really forgive a social wrong."

"I am unreconstructed ! " she snapped, with pride.

"And you thank God daily for it, don't you? "

"Yes, I do. Human nature can't be reconstructed
by the fiat of fools who tinker with laws," she cried.

"These thousands of black votes are here. They've
got to be controlled. I'm doing the job."

"You don't try to get rid of them."

"Get rid of them? Ye gods, that would be a task!

264 The Leopard's Spots

The Negro is the sentimental pet of the nation. Put
him on a continent alone and he will sink like an iron
wedge to the bottomless pit of barbarism. But he is the
ward of the Republic — our only orphan, chronic, in-
capable. That wardship is a grip of steel on the throat
of the South. Back of it is an ocean of maudlin senti-
mental fools. I am simply making the most of the
situation. I didn't make it to order. I'm just doing
the best I can with the material in hand."

"Why don't you come out like a man and defy this
horde of fools?"

"Martyrdom has become too cheap. The preachers
have a hundred thousand missionaries now we are
trying to support."

"Allan, I thought you held below the rough surface
of your nature high ideals — you don't mean this."

"What could one man do against these millions?"

"Do!" she cried, her face ablaze. "The history of
the world is made up of the individuality of a few men.
A little Yankee woman wrote a book. The single act of
that woman's will caused the war, killed a million men,
desolated and ruined the South, and changed the
history of the world. The single dauntless personality
of Washington three times saved the colonies from sur-
render and created the Republic. I am surprised to
hear a man of your brain and reading talk like that ! "

"When I am with you and hear your voice I have
heroic impulses. You are the only human being with
whom I would take the time to discuss this question.
But the current is too strong. The other way is easier,
and it serves my ends better. Besides, 1 am not sure
it isn't better from every point of view. We've got the
Negro here, and must educate him."

"Hush! Tell that to somebody that hates you, not
to me !" she cried.

The Heart of a Villain 265

4t Don't you think we must educate them ? "

"No; I think it is a crime."

"Would you leave them in ignorance, a threat to
society? "

"Yes, until they can be moved. When I see these
young Negro men and women coming out of their schools
and colleges, well dressed, with their shallow veneer of
an imitation culture, I feel like crying over the farce."

"Surely, Mrs. Durham, you believe they are better
fitted for life?"

1 ' They are not. They are lifted out of their only possi-
ble sphere of their menial service, and denied any career.
It is simply inhuman. They are led to certain slaughter
of soul and body at last. It is a horrible tragedy."

Allan looked at her, smiled, and replied: "I knew you
were a bitter and brilliant woman but I didn't think you
would go to such lengths even with your pet aversions."

"It's not an aversion, or a prejudice, sir. It's a simple
fact of history. Education increases the power of the
human brain to think and the heart to suffer. Sooner or
later these educated Negroes feel the clutch of the iron
hand of the white man's unwritten laws on their throats.
They have their choice between a suicide's grave or
a prison cell. And the numbers who dare the grave
and the prison cell daily increase. The South is
kinder to the Negro when he is kept in his place."

"You are a quarter of a century behind the times."

"Am I so old?" she laughed.

"The sentiment, not the woman. You are the most
beautiful woman I ever saw."

" I like rny boys to feel that way about me."

"You don't class me quite with the rest, do you?"

She blushed the slightest bit. "No ; I've always taken
a peculiar interest in you. I have quarrelled with every-
body who has hated and spoken evil of you. I have

266 The Leopard's Spots

always believed you were capable of a high and noble
life of great achievement."

"And your faith in me has been my highest incentive
to give the lie to my enemies and succeed. And I will.
I will be the master of this state within two years. And
I want you to remember that I lay it all at your feet,
The world need not know it — you know it." He spoke
with intense earnestness.

"But I don't want you to make such a success at the
price of Negro equality. I feel a sense of unspeakable
degradation for you when I hear your name hissed. At
least I was your teacher once. Come, Allan, give up
Negro politics and devote yourself to an honourable
career in law."

He shook his head with calm persistence.,

"No, this is my calling."

"*Then take a nobler one."

u To succeed grandly is the only title to nobility here."

"Is the Doctor on speaking terms with you now?"

"Yes. I joke him about his hide-bound Bourbonism,
and he tells me I am all sorts of a villain. But we
have made an agreement to hate one another in a
polite sort of way as becomes a teacher in Israel and a
statesman with responsibilities. By the way, I saw
him driving to the Springs with a bevy of pretty girls
a few hours ago."

"Indeed? I didn't know it 1"

"Yes. He seemed to be having a royal time and to
have renewed his youth."

An angry flush came to her face and she made no
reply McLeod glanced at her furtively and smiled
at this evidence that this shot had gone home.

"Would you drive with me to the Springs? We will
<HBt there before this party starts back." She hesitated.
*nd answered "Yes."

CHAPTER XI
THE OLD, OLD STORY

WHEN Gaston arrived in Independence he went
direct to St. Clare's.
"Well, where the Dickens have you been,
Gaston ? "

"Jumping from Murphy to Manteo, making love to
hayseed statesmen."

"What luck?"

"They're all crazy. They swear they are going to
have the United States establish a Sub-Treasury in
Raleigh and issue Government script they can use as
money on their pumpkins, or they are going to tear the
nation to tatters and vote for a nigger for Governor
if necessary."

"Can't you get into their fool heads that an alliance
with the Republican party is the last way on earth for
them to go about their Sub-Treasury schemes?"

"Can't seem to do a thing with them. McLeod's
stuffed them full. I'm sick of it. I've a notion to let
them go with the niggers and go to the devil. It's
growing on me that there must be another way out.
I can't get down in the dirt and prostitute my intellect
and lie to these fools. We've got to get rid of the
Negro."

"A large job, old man."

"Yes, it is, and thank God I'm done with it for a
week. I'm going to heaven now for a few days. I'll
see her in an hour. I rise on tireless wings ! "

267

268 The Leopard's Spots

"Look out you don't come down too suddenly. The
earth may feel hard."

"Bob, I'm going to risk it. I'm going to look fate
squarely in the face and get my answer like a little
man, for life or death."

Mrs. Worth met Gaston and greeted him with thq
warmest cordiality.

"We are charmed to welcome you to Oakwood agaiit
Mr. Gaston."

"I assure you, Mrs. Worth, I never saw a home se
beautiful. I feel as though I am in paradise when I
get here."

"I hope to see more of you this time; I feel that I
know you so much better since our talk at the Springs."

"Thank you, Mrs. Worth." He said this so simply
and earnestly she could but feel his deep appreciation
of her attitude of welcome.

"Sallie will be down in a minute."

Gaston smiled in spite of himself.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I was just thinking how sweetly her name sounded
on your lips."

"Do you like these old-fashioned Southern names?"

"I think they are lovely."

"Well, that's my name, too."

Sallie suddenly stepped from the hall into the
doorway.

"Now, Mamma, there you are again carrying on
with one of my beaux ! I don't know what I will do
with you!"

Mrs. Worth actually blushed, sprang up and struck
Sallie lightly on the arm with her fan, exclaiming:
"You sly thing, to stand out there and listen to what I
said ! Mr. Gaston, I turn her over to you to punish
her for such conduct."

The Old, Old Story 269

"Isn't she a dear?" said Sallie, when her mother
was gone.

"I was charmed with her at the Springs, but the
gracious way she made me feel at home this morning
completely won my heart."

"I can do anything with Mamma. She's the dearest
mother that ever lived. She always seems to know
intuitively my heart's wish, and, if it's best, give it to
me; and if it's not, she makes me cease to desire it. I
wish I could manage Papa as easily."

"I'm sure he idolises you, Miss Sallie."

"He does; but when he lays the law down, that
settles it. I can't move him one inch."

"That's the way with forceful men, who do things
in the world."

"Well, I confess I like to have my own way some-
times. I wonder if you are like that?"

"I'll be frank with you. Somehow I never could be
anything else if I tried. I don't think a man of strong
character will yield to every whim of a woman, whether
wife or daughter."

"I heard of a man the other day who whipped his
wife," she said in a far-away tone of voice. "Come, my
horse is ready; go with me for another ride to-day. I
am going to take you across the river and show you a
pretty drive over there."

They were soon lost in the deep shadows of the
stately pine forest that lay beyond the Catawba. The
road was a cross-country, narrow way that wound in
and out around the big trees.

They jogged slowly along while he bathed his soul in
the joy of her presence. Oh, to be alone and near her !
There seemed to him a magic power in the touch of her
dress as she sat in the little buggy so close by his
side. For hours again he lay at her feet and drank

270 The Leopard's Spots

the wine of her beauty until his heart was drunk
with love.

Once he opened his lips to tell her, and a great fear
awed him into silence. He longed to pour out to her his
passion, but feared her answer. He had studied her
every word and tone and look and hand-pressure since
he had known her. He was si1 re she loved him. And
yet he was not sure. She was so skilled in the science
of self-defense, so subtle a mistress of all the arts of
polite society in which the soul's deepest secrets are hid
from the world, he was paralysed now as the moment
drew near. He put it off another day and gave himself
up to the pure delight of her face and form and voice
and presence.

That evening when she entered the home her mother
caught her hand and softly whispered, "Did he court
you to-day, Sallie?"

She shook her head smilingly. "No, but I think he
will to-morrow."

St. Clare was sitting on his veranda awaiting
Gaston's return.

"What luck, old boy?" he eagerly asked.

"Couldn't say a word. I'll do it to-morrow or die."

"Shake hands, partner. I've been there."

"Bob, it's a serious thing to run up against a little
answer 'yes' or 'no,' that means life or death."

"Feel like you'd rather live on hope awhile, and let
things drift, don't you?"

" Exactly. I think I can understand for the first time
in my life that awful look in a prisoner's face on trial
for his life when he watches the lips of the foreman of
the jury to catch the first letter of the verdict. I used
to think that an interesting psychological study. By
George, I feel I am his brother now."

The next day was perfect. The warm life-giving sun

The Old, Old Story 271

of June was tempered by breezes that swept fresh and
invigorating over the earth that had been drenched
with showers in the night. The woods were ringing
with the chorus of feathered throats chanting the old
oratorio of life and love. Again Gaston and Sallie
were jogging along the shady river road they had
travelled on the first day she had taken him driving.

"Do you remember this road?" she asked.

"I'll never forget it. Along this road we hurried
in the twilight to face your angry mother, and just
one kiss smoothed her brow into a welcoming smile
for me."

"Well, I'm going to risk greater trouble to-day, and
take you a mile or two farther up the river to the old
mill-site at the rapids. It's the most beautiful and
romantic spot in the country. The river spreads out a
quarter of a mile in width, and goes plunging and
dashing down the rapids through thousands of pro*
jecting rocks, a mass of white foam as far as you can see.
It's full of tiny green islands with ferns and rhododendron
and wild grapevines, and their perfume sweetens the
air for miles along the water. These little islands,
some ten feet square, some an acre, are full of mocking-
birds nesting there, though since the mills were burned
during the war nobody has lived near. The songs of
these birds seem tuned to the music of the river."

"It must be a glimpse of fairyland!" he exclaimed.

1 ' I know you will be thrilled with its romantic beauty.
It's five miles from a house in any direction."

Gaston was silent. He made a resolution in his
soul that he would never leave that spot until he knew
his fate. His heart began to thump now like a sledge-
hammer. He looked down furtively at her and tried
to imagine how she would look and what she would
say when he should startle her first with some words of

272 The Leopard's Spots

tender endearment or the sound of her name he had
said over and over a thousand times in his heart, and
aloud when alone, but never dared to use without
its prefix.

She saw his abstraction and divined intuitively the
current of emotions with which he was struggling, but
pretended not to notice it. He tied the horse at the
old mill, and they walked slowly down the bank of
the river.

"That is my island," she cried, pointing out into the
river; "that third one in the group running out from
the point. We can step from one rock to another to it."

It was indeed an entrancing spot. The island seemed
all alone in the middle of the river when one was on it.
It was not more than fifty feet wide and a hundred feet
long, its length lying with the swift current. At the
lower end of it a fine ash tree spread its dense shade,
hanging far over the still waters that stood in smooth
eddy at its roots. On the upper side of this tree lay
a big boulder, resting against its trunk and embedded
in a mass of clean white sand the water had filtered and
washed and thrown there on some spring flood.

She climbed on this rock, sat down, and leaned her
bare head against its trunk.

"This is my throne! " she laughingly cried.

He leaned against the rock and looked up at her with
eyes through which the yearning, the hunger, the joy,
and the fear of all life were quivering. What a picture
she made under the dark, cool shadows ! Her dress was
again of spotless white that seemed now to have been
woven out of the foam of the river. Her throat was
bare, her cheeks flushed, and her wavy hair the wind
had blown loose into a hundred stray ringlets about her
face and neck. Her lips were trembling with a smile at
his speechless admiration.

The Old, Old Story 273

"You seem to have been struck dumb," she said.
"Isn't this glorious?"

"Beyond words, Miss Sallie. I didn't know there was
such a spot on the earth."

"This is my favourite perch. Art and wealth could
never make anything like this ! I could come here and
sit and dream all day alone if Mamma would let me."

He tried to begin the story of love, but every time
his tongue refused to move. He was trembling with
nervous hesitation and began to dig a hole in the sand
with his heel.

' ' What is the matter with you to-day ? I never saw
you so serious and moody."

Just then a female mocking-bird in her modest dove-
coloured dress lit on a swaying limb whose tips touched
the still water of the eddy at their feet, and her proud
mate, with head erect, far up on the topmost twig of the
ash, struck softly the first note of his immortal love
poem, the dropping song.

"Listen! He's going to sing his dropping song!" he
cried in a whisper.

And they listened. He sang his first stanza in a low,
dreamy voice, and then as the sweetness of his love
and the glory of his triumph grew on his bird soul he
lifted his clear notes higher and higher until the woods
on the banks of the river rang with its melody.

His mate turned her eyes upward and quietly twittered
a sweet little answer.

His response rang like a silver trumpet far up in the
sky. He sprang ten feet into the air and slowly dropped,
singing, singing his long trilling notes of melting
sweetness. He stopped on the topmost twig, sat a
moment, never ceasing his matchless song, and then
began to fall downward from limb to limb toward his
mate, pouring out his soul in mad abandonment of joy,

274 Tke Leopard's Spots

but growing softer, sweeter, more tender as he drew
nearer. They could see her tremble now with pride
and love at his approach, as she glanced timidly upward
and answered him with maiden modesty. At last,
when he reached her side, his song was so low and sweet
and dreamlike it could scarcely be heard. He touched
the tip of her beak with a bird kiss, they chirped, and
flew away to the woods together.

Gaston determined to speak or die. His eyes were
wet with unshed tears, and he was trembling from head
to foot. He had meant to pour out his love for her like
that bird in words of passionate beauty, but all he could
do was to say with stammering voice, low and tense
with emotion,

"Miss Sallie, I love you!"

He had meant to say "Sallie," but at the last gasp of
breath, as he spoke, his courage had failed. He did not
look up at first. And when she was silent, he timidly
looked up, fearing to hear the answer or read it in her
face. She smiled at him and broke into a low peal of
joyous laughter. And there was a note of joy in her
laughter that was contagious.

"Please don't laugh at me," he stammered, although
smiling himself.

She buried her face in her hands and laughed again.
She looked at him with her great blue eyes, wide open,
dancing with fun and wet with tears.

"Do you know, it's the funniest thing in the world;
you are the sixth man who has made love to me on
this rock within a year!" Again she laughed in his
face.

"Look here, Miss Sallie, this is cruel! "

"Dear old rock! It's enchanted. It never fails ! "
She laughed softly again, and patted the rock with her
hand.

The Old, Old Story 275

"Surely you have tortured me long enough. Have
some pity ! "

"It is a pitiable sight to see a big, eloquent man
stammer and do silly things, isn't it?"

"Please give me your answer," he cried, still trembling.

"Oh, it's not so serious as all that!" she said, with
dancing eyes.

"I'm in the dust at your feet."

"You mean in the sand. Did you know that you dug
a hole in that sand deep enough to bury me in? I
thought once you were meditating murder by the
expression on your face."

"Please give me one earnest look from your eyes,"
he pleaded.

"You're a terrible disappointment," she answered,
leaning back and putting her hands behind her head
thoughtfully.

His heart stood still at this unexpected speech.

"How?" he slowly asked, looking down at the sand
again.

"Because," she said, in her old tantalising tone, "I
expected so much of you."

"Then you don't class me with the other poor devils,
at least?" he asked, hopefully.

"No, no; they were handsome boys and made me
beautiful speeches. But you are distinguished. You
are a man that everybody would look at twice in a crowd.
You are a famous young orator who can hold thousands
breathless with eloquence. I thought you would make
me the most beautiful speech. But you acted like a
schoolboy, stammered, looked foolish, and pawed a hole
in the ground !" Again she laughed.

"I confess, Miss Sallie, I was never so overwhelmed
with terror and nervousness by an audience before."

"And just one girl to hear?"

276 The Leopard's Spots

"Yes, but she counts more with me than all the other
millions, and one kind look from her eyes I would hold
dearer at this moment than a conquered world's
applause."

" That's fine ! That's something like it ! Say more ! "
she cried.

His face clouded and he looked earnestly at her.

"Come, come, Miss Sallie, this is too cruel. I have
torn my heart's deepest secrets open to you, and trem-
blingly laid my life at your feet, and you are laughing at
me. I have paid you the highest homage one human
soul can offer another. Surely I deserve better than
this?"

"There, you do. Forgive me. I have seen so much
shallow love-making I am never quite sure a boy's in
dead earnest." She spoke now with seriousness.

"You cannot doubt my earnestness. I have spoken
to you this morning the first words of love that ever
passed my lips. One chamber of my soul has always
been sacred. It was the throne-room of Love, reserved
for the One Woman waiting for me somewhere whom
I should find. I would not allow an angel to enter it,
and I hid it from the face of God. I have opened it this
morning. It is yours."

She softly slipped her hand in his and tremblingly
said, while a tear stole down her cheek:

"I do love you!"

He bent over her hand and kissed it, and kissed it,
while his frame shook with uncontrollable emotion.
Then, looking up through his dimmed eyes, he said,
"My darling, that was the sweetest music, that
sentence, that I shall ever hear in this world or in all
the worlds beyond it in eternity."

"When did you first begin to love me?" she asked.

"I don't know. But I loved you the first moment

The Old, Old Story 277

you looked into my face while I was speaking that day.
And I recognised you instantly as the Dream of my
Soul. I have loved you forever, ages before we were
born in this world — somewhere — our souls met and knew
and loved. And I've been looking for you ever since.
When I saw you there in the crowd that day, looking up
at me with those beautiful blue eyes, I felt like shouting
1 1 have found her ! I have found her ! ' and rushing
to your side lest I should not see you again."

"It is strange — this feeling that we have known each
other forever. The moment you touched my hand that
first day a sense of perfect content and joy in living
came over me. I couldn't remember the time when
I hadn't known you. You seemed so much a part of
my inmost thoughts and e very-day life. I laughed
this morning from sheer madness of joy when you told
me your love. I knew you were going to tell me
t«-day. You tried yesterday, but I held you back. I
wanted you to tell me here at this beautiful spot, that
the music of this water might always sing its chorus
with the memory of your words."

"Let me kiss your lips once !" he pleaded.

"No; you shall hold my hand and kiss that. Your
touch thrills every nerve of my being like wine. It is
enough. I promised Mamma I would never allow a man
to kiss me without asking her. And we are like loving
comrades. I couldn't violate a promise to her. I will,
when she says so."

'Then I'll ask her. I know she's on my side."

"Yes; I believe she loves you because I do."

"What did you whisper to her that night, when we
came late, and you said she would be angry?"

"Told her I loved you."

" If I could only have caught that whisper then ! You
don't know how it delights me to think your mother

278 The Leopard's Spots

likes me. I couldn't help loving her. It seems to me
a divine seal on our lives."

"Yes; and what specially delights me is, you have
completely captured Papa, and he's so hard to please."

"You don't say so!"

"Yes, he's been preaching you at me ever since you
came the first time. I pretended to be indifferent, to
draw him out. He would say, ' Now, Sallie, there's a
man for you — no pretty dude, but a man, with a kingly
eye and a big brain. That's the kind of a man who does
things in the world and makes history for smaller men
to read.' And then I'd say, just to aggravate him,
'But, Papa, he's as poor as Job's turkey.'"

"Then you ought to have heard him, 'Well, what of
it ! You can begin in a cabin like your mother and I
did. He's got a better start than I had, for he has a
better training.'"

"I am certainly glad to hear that ! " Gaston cried with
elation.

"You may be. For Papa is a man of such intense
likes and dislikes. The first thing that made my heart
flutter with fear was that he might not like you. He
loves me intensely, and I love him devotedly. I
could not marry without his consent. You are so
entirely different from any other beau I ever had, I
couldn't imagine what Papa would think of you. You
wear such a serious face, never go into society, care
nothing for fine clothes, and are so careless that you
even hung your feet out of the buggy that first day I
took you to drive. I was glad to have you in the woods
and not in town. The boys would have guyed me to
death. In fact, you are the contradiction of the average
man I have known, and of all the men I thought as a
girl I'd marry some day. I am so glad Papa likes you."

That evening, when they reached the house, she

The Old, Old Story 279

hurried through the hall to her mother, who was
standing on the back porch. There was the sudden
swish of a dress, a kiss, another — and another. And
then the low murmur of a mother's voice like the
crooning over a baby.

CHAPTER XII
THE MUSIC OF THE MILLS

WHEN Gaston reached his home that night St.
Clare had gone to bed. It was one o'clock.
He could not sleep yet, so he sat in the
window and tried to realise his great happiness, as he
looked out on the green lawn with its white gravelled
walk glistening in the full moon.

"The world is beautiful, life is sweet, and God is
good!" he cried, in an ecstasy of joy.

He sat there in the moonlight for an hour dreaming
of his love and the great strenuous life of achievement
he would live with her to inspire him. It seemed too
good to be true. And yet it was the largest living fact.
Like throbbing music the words were ringing in his
heart, keeping time with the rhythm of its beat, "I
do love you!"

And then he did something he had not done for
years — not sin<^ his boyhood: he knelt in the silence
of the moonlit iOom and prayed. Love, the great
Revealer, had led hi~n into the presence of God. The
impulse was spontaneous and resistless. "Lord, I
have seen Thy face, heara Thy voice, and felt the touch
of Thy hand to-day. I bless and praise Thee ! Forgive
my doubts and fears and sins; cleanse and make me
worthy of her whom Thou has sent as Thy messenger !"
So he poured out his soul.

Next morning he grasped St. Clare's hand as he

280

The Music of the Mills 281

entered the room. "Bob, I'm the happiest man in
the world."

"Congratulations. You look it."

"She loves me. I'd like to climb up on the top of
this house and shout it until all earth and heaven
could hear and be glad with me !"

"Well, don't do it, my boy. See her father first."

"She says he likes me."

"Then you're elected."

"I'm going to tackle him before I go home."

"Don't rush him. There's a superstition prevalent
here that the old gentleman has no idea of ever letting
his daughter leave that home, and that he will never
give his consent, when driven to the wall, unless his
son-in-law that is to be will agree to settle down there
and take his place in those big mills. He has two great
loves, his daughter and his mills, and he doesn't mean
to let either one of them go if he can help it."

"Do you believe it's true?"

"Yes, I do. How do you like the idea?"

"It's not my style. I've a pretty clear idea of what
I'm going to do in this world."

"Well, you'd better begin to haul in your silk sails
and study cotton goods, is my advice."

"I'll manage him."

"I don't know about it; but if you've got her, you're
the first man that ever got far enough to measure
himself with the General. I wish you luck."

"You the same, old chum. May you conquei
Boston and all the Pilgrim Fathers."

"Thanks. The vision of one of them disturbs my
dreams. One will be enough."

Then followed six golden days on the banks of the
Catawba. Every day he insisted with boyish enthusi-
asm on returning to that rock and seating her on her

282 The Leopard's Spots

throne. He called her his queen, and worshipped at
her feet.

He had the friendliest little chat with her mother,
and told her how he loved her daughter and hoped for
her approval. She answered with frankness that she
was glad, and would love him as her own son, but that
she disapproved of kissing and extravagant love-
making until they were ready to be married and their
engagement duly announced.

So he could only hold Sallie's hand and kiss the tips
of her fingers and the little dimples where they joined
the hand, and sometimes he would hold it against his
own cheek while she smiled at him.

But when they rode homeward one evening he dared
to put his arm behind her, high on the phaeton's leather
cushion, as they were going down a hill, and then
lowered it a little as they started up the grade. She
leaned back and found it there. At first she nestled
against it very timidly and then trustingly. She
looked into his face and both smiled.

"Isn't that nice, Sallie?"

"Yes, it is. I don't think Mamma would mind that,
do you?"

"Of course not."

"Well, I never promised not to lean back in a phaeton,
did I?"

"Certainly not, and it's all right."

Toward the end of the week the General began to
show him a grave, friendly interest. He invited Gaston
to go over the mills with him. The mills were located
back of the wooded cliffs a quarter of a mile up the
river. There were now four magnificent brick build-
ings stretching out over the river bottoms at right
angles to its current, and there was also a big dye-
house, a ginning-house and a cottonseed oil mill. The

The Music of the Mills 283

General stood on the hilltop and proudly pointed it
out to him.

"Isn't that a grand sight, young man! We employ
2,000 hands down there, and consume hundreds of bales
of cotton a day. We began here after the war without
a cent, except our faith and this magnificent water-
power. Now look!"

"You have certainly done a great work," said Gaston.
"I had no idea you had so many industries in the
enclosure."

1 ' Yes ; I sit down here on the hill some nights in the
moonlight and look into this valley, and the hum of that
machinery is like ravishing music. The machinery
seems to me to be a living thing, with millions of
ringers of steel and a great throbbing soul. I dream
of the day when those swift fingers will weave their
fabrics of gold and clothe the whole South in splen-
dour— the South I love, and for which I fought and
have yearned over through all these years. Ah,
young man, I wish you boys of brain and genius
would quit throwing yourselves away in law and
dirty politics and devote your powers to the South's
development."

"Yes; but General, the people of the South had to
go into politics instead of business on account of the
enfranchisement of the Negro. It was a matter of life
and death."

"I didn't do it."

"No, sir, but others did for you."

"How?" he asked incredulously, with just a touch
of wounded pride.

"Well, how many Negroes do you employ in
these mills?"

"None. We don't allow a Negro to come inside the
enclosure."

284 The Leopard's Spots

"Precisely so. You have prospered because you
have got rid of the Negro."

"I've simply let the Negro alone. Let others do the
same."

"But everybody can't do it. There are now
nine millions of them. You've simply shifted the
burden on others' shoulders. You haven't solved
the problem."

"If we had less politics and more business we would
be better off."

"But the trouble is, General, we can't have more
business until politics have settled some things."

"You're throwing yourself away in politics, young
man. There's nothing in it but dirt and disap-
pointment."

"To me, sir, politics is a religion."

"Religion! Politics! I didn't know you could ever
mix 'em. I thought they were about as far apart as
heaven is from hell!" exclaimed the General.

"They ought not to be, sir, whatever the terrible
facts. I believe that the Government is the organised
virtue of the community, and that politics is religion in
action. It may be a poor sort of religion, but it is the
best we are capable of as members of society."

"Well, that's a new idea."

"It's coming to be more and more recognised by
thoughtful men, General. I believe that the State is
now the only organ through which the whole people
can search for righteousness, and that the progress of
the world depends more than ever on its integrity
and purity."

"Well, you've cut out a big job for yourself, if that's
your ideal. My idea of politics is a pig-pen. The
way to clean it is to kill the pigs."

Gaston laughed and shook his head.

The Music of the Mills 285

When they returned from the mills, Mrs. Worth drew
the General into her room.

"Did he ask you for Sallie?"

"No; the young galoot never mentioned her name.
I thought he would. But, somehow, I must have
scared him."

"You didn't quarrel over anything?"

" No ! But I found out he had a mind of his own."

"So have you, sir."

CHAPTER XIII
THE FI RST KISS

WHY didn't you ask him yesterday?" cried
Sallie, as she entered the parlour the next
morning.

"I was scared out of my wits. We got crossways
on some questions we were discussing, and he snorted
at me once, and every time I tried to screw up my courage
to speak a lump got in my throat and I gave it up. I
thought I'd wait a day or two until he should be in a
better humour."

"He's gone away to-day," she said, with plainly
evinced disappointment.

"I'm glad of it; I'll write him a letter."

"If you had asked him yesterday it would have been
all right. He told me so when he left this morning
with a very tender tremour in his voice."

" But it will be all right, sweetheart, when I write."

"I wanted my ring," she whispered.

"You shall have it," he said, as he seized her hand
and led her to a seat.

" Have you got it with you? " she asked, with excite-
ment. "Let me see it, quick!"

He drew a little box from his pocket, withdrew the
ring, concealing it in his hand, slipped it on her finger
and kissed it. She threw her hand up into the light to
see it.

"It is glorious! It's the big, green diamond Hid-
denite I saw at the Exposition ! It is the most beautiful

286

The First Kiss 287

stone I ever saw, and the only one of its kind in size and
colour in the world. Professor Hidden told me so. I
tried to get Papa to buy it for me. But he laughed at
me, and said it was childish extravagance. Charlie,
dear, how could you get it ? "

"That's a little secret. But there are to be no secrets
between us any more. I had a little hoard saved from
my mother's estate for the greatest need of my life. I
confess my extravagance."

"You are a matchless lover. I'm the proudest and
happiest girl that breathes."

"Nothing is too good for you. I wish I could make a
greater sacrifice."

"Wait till I show it to Mamma," and she flew to her
mother's room. She returned immediately, looking at
the ring and kissing it.

"Couldn't show it to her; she had company," she said.
"Allan is talking to her."

"Let's get out of the house, dear. I hate that man
like a rattlesnake."

"Don't be silly ! I never cared a snap for him."

"I know you didn't, but there is a poison about him
that taints the air for me. Get your horse and let's go
to our place at the old mill."

They soon reached the spot, and with a laugh she
sprang upon the rock and took her seat against the
tree.

" Now, dear, humour this whim of mine. I've grown
superstitious since you made me happy. I have a
presentiment of evil because that man was in the house.
I am going to take the ring off and put it on your hand
again out here, where only the eyes of our birds will see
and the river we love will hear."

1 ' That will be nicer. I somehow feel that my life is
built on this dear old rock," she answered, soberly.

288 The Leopard's Spots

He took the ring off her finger, dipped it in the white
foam of the river, kissed it, and placed it on her hand.

"Now the spell is broken, isn't it?" she cried, holding
it out in the sunlight a moment to catch the flash of its
green diamond depth.

"I've another token for you. This you will not even
show to your mother or father." She bent low over a
tiny package he unfolded.

"This is the first medal I won at college," he con-
tinued— "the first victory of my life. It was the force
that determined my character. It gave me an inflexible
will. I worked at a tremendous disadvantage. Others
were two years ahead of me in study for the contest. I
locked myself up in my room day and night for ten
months, and took just enough food and sleep for strength
to work. I worked seventeen hours a day, except
Sundays, for ten months, without an hour of play. I won
it brilliantly. Every line cut on its gold surface stands
for a thousand aches of my body. Every little pearl set
in it grew in a pain of that struggle which set its seal
on my inmost life. I came out of those ten months a
man. I have never known the whims of a boy since."

"And you engraved something on the back to me ?"

"Yes. Can't you read it?"

"My eyes are dim," she whispered.

"It is this — In the hand of manhood's tenderest love
I bring to thee my boyhood's brightest dream. I was a
man when I woke, but I have never lived till ycu taught
me. Keep this as a pledge of eternal love. It's the
only trinket I ever possessed. The world will see our
ring. Don't let them see this. It is the seal of your
sovereignty of my soul in life, in death, and beyond.
Will you make me this eternal pledge?"

"Unto the uttermost ! " she murmured.

"Unto the uttermost ! " he solemnly echoed.

The First Kiss 289

"And now, what can I say or do for you when you
show me in this spirit of prodigal sacrifice how dear I
am in your eyes? "

"Those words from your lips are enough," he declared.

"I'll give you more. I'm going to give you just a
little bit of myself. I haven't asked Mamma, but we are
engaged now. Come closer."

She placed her beautiful arms around his neck
and pressed her lips upon his in the first rapturous
kiss of love.

"No — no more. It is enough, '"she protested.

CHAPTER XIV
A MYSTERIOUS LETTER

HE was at home now, waiting impatiently for the
General's answer to his letter. Two weeks had
passed and he had not received it. But she
liad explained in her letters that her father had returned
the day he left, had a talk with McLeod, and left on
important business. They were expecting his return
at any moment.

It was a new revelation of life he found in their first
love letters. He never knew that he could write before.
He sat for hours at his desk in his law office and poured
out to her his dreams, hopes and ambitions. All the
poetry of youth and the passion and beauty of life he
put into those letters.

He wrote to her every day and she answered every
other day. She wrote in half-tearful apology that her
mother disapproved of a daily letter, and she added,
wistfully: "I should like to write to you twice a day.
Take the will for the deed, and as you love me, be sure
to continue yours daily."

And on the days the letter came, with eager, trembling
hands he seized it, without waiting for the rest of his
mail or his papers. With set face and quick, nervous
step he would mount the stairs to his office, lock his door
and sit down to devour it. He would hold it in his hands
sometimes for ten minutes just to laugh and muse over it,
and try to guess what new trick of phrase she had used
to express her love. He was surprised at her brilliance

290

A Mysterious Letter 291

and wit. He had not held her so deep a thinker on the
serious things of life as these letters had showed, nor
had he noticed how keen her sense of humour. He
was so busy looking at her beautiful face, and
drinking the love-light from her eyes, he had over-
looked these things when with her. Now they
flashed on him as a new treasure that would enrich
his life.

At the end of two weeks, when the General had not
answered his letter, he began to grow nervous. A vague
feeling of fear grew on him. Something had happened
to darken his future. He felt it by a subtle telepathy of
sympathetic thought. He was gloomy and depressed
all day after he had received and feasted on the
wittiest letter she had ever written. What could it
mean, he asked himself a thousand times. Some
shadow had fallen across their lives. He knew it as
clearly as if the revelation of its misery were already
unfolded.

He went to the post-office on the next day he was to
receive a letter, crushed with a sense of foreboding. He
waited until the mail was all distributed and the general
delivery window flung open before he approached his
box. He was afraid to look at her letter. He slowly
opened the box.

There was nothing in it.

"Sam, you're not holding out my letter to tease me,
old boy? " he asked, pathetically.

Sam was about to joke him about the uncertainties of
love when his eyes rested on his drawn face.

"Lord, no, Charlie!" he protested. "You know I
wouldn't treat you like that."

"Then look again; you may have dropped it."

Sam turned and looked carefully over the floor, over
and under his desks and tables, and returned.

292 The Leopard's Spots

"No; but it may have been thrown into the wrong
bag by that fool mail clerk on the train. You may
get it to-morrow."

He turned away and walked to his office, forgetting
his key in the open box. The vague sense of calamity
that weighed on his heart for the past two days new
became a reality.

He sat in his office all the afternoon in a dull stupor
of suspense. He tried to read her last letter over. But
the pages would get blurred and fade out of sight, and
he would wake to find he had been staring at one
sentence for an hour.

He knew his foster mother would be all sympathy and
tenderness if he told her, but somehow he hadn't the
heart. She had led him to his love. He had been so
boyishly and frankly happy, boasting to her of his
success, he sickened at the thought of telling her. He
went out for a walk in the woods and lay down alone
beside a brook like a wounded animal.

The next day he watched his box again with the
hope that Sam's guess might be right and the missing
letter would come. But, instead of the big square-cut
envelope he had waited for, he received a bulky letter
in an old-fashioned masculine handwriting with the
postmark of Independence and a mill mark in the upper
left-hand corner.

He did not have to look twice at that letter. It was the
sealed verdict of his jury. He locked his office door. The
letter was long and rambling, full of a kindly sympathy
expressed in a restrained manner. He could not believe
at first that so outspoken a man as the General could
have written it. The substance of its meaning, however,
was plain enough. He meant to say that as he was not
in a position to make a suitable home at present for a
wife, and as he disapproved of long engagements, it

A Mysterious Letter 293

seemed better that no engagement should be entered
into or announced.

He stared at this letter for an hour, trying to grasp the
mystery that lay back of its halting, half-contradictory
sentences. He did not know until long afterward
that the General had written it with two blue eyes tear-
fully watching him and waiting to read it; that now
and then there was the sound of a great sob, and two
arms were around his neck, and a still white face lying
on his shoulder, and that tears had washed all the harsh-
ness and emphasis out of what he had meant to write,
and all but blotted out any meaning to what he did
write.

But withal it was clear enough in its import. It meant
that the General had haltingly but authoritatively
denied his suit. He instantly made up his mind to ask
an interview at his home and know plainly all his reasons
for this change of attitude. He wrote his letter and
posted it immediately by return mail. He knew that
the request would precipitate a crisis, and he trembled
at the outcome. Either her father would hesitate and
receive him, or end it with a crash of his imperious will.

CHAPTER XV
A BLOW IN THE DARK

THE noon mail brought Gaston no answer. At
night he felt sure it would come.
When the wagon dashed up to the post-office
that night it was fifteen minutes late. He was walking
up and down the street on the opposite pavement along
the square, keeping under the shadows of the trees. He
turned, quickly crossed the street, and stood inside the
office, listening with a feeling of strange abstraction to
the tramp of the postmaster's feet back and forth as he
distributed the mail. He never knew before what a
tragedy might be concealed in the thrust of a bit of folded
paper into a tiny glass-eyed box. As he waited, fearing
to face his fate, he remembered the pathetic figure of a
gray-haired old man who stood there one day hanging
on that desk softly talking to himself. He was a stranger
at the Springs, and they were alone in the office together.
Now and then he brushed a tear from his eyes, glanced
timidly at the window of the general delivery, starting at
every quick movement inside as though afraid the win-
dow had opened. Gaston had gone up close to the old
man, drawn by the look of anguish in his dignified face.
The stranger intuitively recognised the sympathy of the
movement, and explained, tremblingly: "My son, I am
waiting for a message of life or death" — he faltered,
seized his hand, and added, "and I'm afraid to see it ! "

294

A Blow in the Dark 295

Just then the window opened and he clutched his arm
and gasped, with dilated, staring eyes:

"There, there ; it's come ! You go for me, my son, and
ask while I pray! I'm afraid."

How well Gaston remembered now with what trem-
bling eagerness the old man had broken the seal and
then stood with head bowed low, crying:

"I thank and bless thee, oh, Mother of Jesus, for
this hour! " And looking up into his face with tear-
streaming eyes he cried in a rich, low voice, like tender
music, "How beautiful are the feet of them that
bring glad tidings ! "

He could feel now the warm pressure of his hand as
he walked out of the office with him.

How vividly the whole scene came rushing over him !
He thought he sympathised with his old friend that
night, but now he entered into the fellowship of his
sorrow. Now he knew.

At last he drew himself up, walked to his box and
opened it. His heart leaped. A big, square-cut envelope
lay in it, addressed to him in her own beautiful hand.
He snatched it out and hurried to his office. The
moment he touched it his heart sank. It was light and
thin. Evidently there was but a single sheet of paper
within.

He tore it open and stared at it with parted lips and
half -seeing eyes. The first word struck his soul with a
deadly chill. This was what he read:

"My Dear Mr, Gaston: I write in obedience to the
wishes of my parents to say our engagement must end
and our correspondence cease. I cannot explain to you
the reasons for this. I have acquiesced in their judg-
ment, that it is best.

"I return your letters by to-morrow's mail, and

296 The Leopard's Spots

Mamma requests that you return mine to her at
Oakwood immediately.

"I leave to-night on the Limited for Atlanta, where
I join a friend. We go to Savannah, and thence by
steamer to Boston, where I shall visit Helen for a month.

1 ' Sincerely,

"Sallie Worth."

For a long time he looked at the letter in a stupor of
amazement. That her father could coerce her hand into
writing such a brutal, commonplace note was a revela-
tion of his power he had never dreamed. And then his
anger began to rise. His fighting blood from soldier
ancestors made his nerves tingle at this challenge.

He took up the letter and read it again curiously,
studying each word. He opened the folded sheet, hop-
ing to find some detached message. There was nothing
inside. But he noticed on the other side of the sheet, a
lot of indentures as though made by the end of a
needle. He turned it back and studied these dots
under different letters in the words made by the
needle points. He spelled :

"My Darling— Unto the Uttermost."

And then he covered the note with kisses, sprang to
his feet and looked at his watch.

It was now ten thirty. The Limited left Independ-
ence at eleven o'clock and made no stops for the first
hundred miles toward Atlanta. But just to the south,
where the railroad skirted the foot of King's Mountain,
there was a water-tank on the mountainside where he
knew the train stopped for water about midnight.

With a fast horse he could make the eighteen miles
and board the Limited at this water station. The only
danger was if the sky should cloud over and the star-
light be lost it would be difficult to keep in the narrow

A Blow in the Dark 297

road that wound over the semi -mountainous hills, dense-
ly wooded, that must be crossed to make it.

"I'll try it ! " he exclaimed. "Yes, I will do it," he
added, setting his teeth. "Ill make that train."

He got the best horse he could find in the livery
stable, saw that his saddle girths were strong, sprang
on and galloped toward the south. It was a quarter to
eleven when he started, and it seemed a doubtful under-
taking. The Limited would make the run from Inde-
pendence, fifty-two miles, in an hour at the most. If
the train were on time it would be a close shave for
him to make the eighteen miles.

The sky clouded slightly before he reached the moun-
tain. In spite of his vigilance he lost his way and had
gone a quarter of a mile before a rift in the cloud showed
him the north star suddenly, and he found he had taken
the wrong road at the crossing and was going straight
back home.

Wheeling his horse, he put spurs to him, and dashed
at full speed back through the dense woods.

Just as he got within a mile of the tank he heard the
train blow for the bridge crossing at the river near by.

"Now, my boy," he cried to his horse, patting him —
"Now, your level best ! "

The horse responded with a spurt of desperate speed.
He had a way of handling a horse that the animal re-
sponded to with almost human sympathy and intelli-
gence. He seemed to breathe his own will into the
horse's spirit. He flew over the ground, and reached
the train just as the fireman cut off the water and the
engineer tapped his bell to start.

He flung his horse's rein over a hitching post that
stood near the silent little station-house, rushed to the
track, and sprang on the day coach as it passed.

He had intended to ride fifty miles on this train, see

298 The Leopard's Spots

his sweetheart face to face, learn the truth from her
own lips, and then return on the up-train. He hoped
to ride back to Hambright before day and keep the
fact of his trip a secret.

Now a new difficulty arose — a very simple one — that
he had not thought of for a moment. She was in a
Pullman sleeper, of course, and asleep.

There were three sleepers, one for Atlanta, one for
New Orleans, and one for Memphis. He hoped she
was in the Atlanta sleeper, as that was her destination,
though if that were crowded in its lower berths she
might be in either of the others. But how under
heaven could he locate her? The porter probably
would not know her.

He was puzzled. The conductor approached, and he
paid his fare to the next stop, fifty miles.

"I've an important message for a passenger in one of
these sleepers, Captain," he exclaimed. "I have ridden
across the mountains to catch the train here."

\TI right," said the conductor. "Go right in and
deliver it. You look like you had a tussle to get here."

"It was a close shave," Gaston replied.

He stepped into the Atlanta sleeper and encountered
the dusky potentate who presided over its aisles.

The porter looked up from the shoes he was shining
at Gaston's dishevelled hair and gave him no welcome.

Gaston dropped a half-dollar into his hand and the
porter dropped the shoes and grinned a royal welcome.

"Anyting I kin do fer ye, boss?"

"Got any ladies on your car?"

"Yassir, three un 'em."

"Young or old?"

"One young un en two ole uns."

"Did tne young lady get on at Independence?"

"Yassir." "

A Blow in the Dark 299

"Going to Atlanta?"

"Yassir."

"Is she very beautiful?"

"Boss, she's de purtiess young lady I eber laid my
eyes on — but look lak she been cryin'."

"Then I want you to wake her. I must see her."

"Lordy, boss, I can't do dat. Hit ergin de rules."

"But I'm bound to see her. I've ridden eighteen
miles across the mountains and scratched my face all to
pieces rushing through those woods. I've a message
of the utmost importance for her."

"Cain' do hit, boss; hit's ergin de rules. But you
can go wake her yo'se'f ef you'se er mind ter. I cain*
keep you fum it. She's dar in number seben."

Gaston hesitated. "No, you must wake her," he
insisted, dropping another coin into the porter's hand.

The porter got up with a grin. He felt he must rise
to a great occasion.

"Well, I des fumble roun' de berth en mebbe she wake
herse'f, en den I tell her."

Just then the electric bell overhead rang and the
index pointed to 7. "Dar, now, dat's her callin' me,
sho' !"

He approached the berth. "What kin I do fur ye,
Ma'am?" he whispered.

"Porter, who is that you are talking to? It sounds
like some one I know."

" Yassum; hit's young gent name er Gaston, jump on
bode at the water station — say he got 'portant message
fur you."

"Tell him I will see him in a moment."

The porter returned with the message.

"You des wait in dar, in number one — hit's not made
up — twell she come," he added.

There was the soft rustle of a dressing-gown — he

300 The Leopard's Spots

sprang to his feet, clasped her hand passionately, kissed
it9 and silently she took her seat by his side. He still
held her hand, and she pressed his gently in response.
He saw that she was crying, and his heart was too full
for words for a moment.

He looked long and wistfully in her face. In her
dishevelled hair by the dim light of the car he thought
her more beautiful than ever. At last she brushed the
tears from her eyes and turned her face full on his with
a sad smile.

"My love!" she sobbed, "I prayed that I might
see you somehow before I left. I was wide awake
when I first heard the distant murmur of your voice.
I am so glad you came!" And she pressed his hand.

"I got your letter at ten thirty "

" Oh, that awful letter ! How I cried over it. Papa
made me write it, and read and mailed it himself. But
you caw my message between the lines?"

"Yes; and then I covered it with kisses. But what
is the cause of this sudden change of the General toward
me? What have I done?"

" Please don't ask me. I can't tell you," she sobbed,
lowering her face a moment to his hand and kissing it.
"Don't ask me."

" But, my dear, I must know. There can be no secrets
between us."

"My lips will never tell you. There have been a
thousand slanders breathed against you. I met them
with fury and scorn, and no one has dared repeat them
in my hearing. I would not pollute my lips by repeating
one of them."

"But who is their author?"

"I cannot tell you. I promised Mamma I wouldn't.
She loves you, and she is on our side, but said it was
best. Papa has made up his mind to break our engage-

A Blow in the Dark 301

ment forever. And I defied him. We had a scene.
I didn't know I had the strength of will that came to
me. I said some terrible things to him, and he said
some very cruel things to me. Poor Mamma was pros-
trated. Her heart is weak, and I only yielded at last
as far as I have because of her tears and suffering.
I could not endure her pleadings. So I promised to do
as he wished for the present, leave for Boston, and
cease to write to you."

"My love, I must know my enemy to meet him and
face the issue he raises. I cannot be strangled in the
dark like this."

"You will find it out soon enough; I cannot tell you,"
she repeated. "I only ask you to trust me, in this the
darkest hour that has ever come to my life. You will
trust me, will you not, dear?" she pleaded.

"I have trusted you with my immortal soul. You
know this."

"Yes, yes, dear, I do. Then you can love and trust
me without a letter or a word between us until Mamma
is better and I can get her consent to write to you?
I never knew how tenderly and desperately I love you
until this shadow came over our lives. No power shall
ever separate us when the final test comes, unless you
shall grow weary."

"Do not say that," he interrupted. " I love you with
a love that has brought me out cf the shadows and
shown me the face of God. Death shall not bring
weariness. But I dread with sickening fear the efforts
they will make to plunge you into the whirl of frivolous
society. I shall be a lonely beggar a thousand miles
away with not one friendly face near to plead my cause."

"Hush!" she broke in upon him. "You are for me
the one living presence. You are always near — oh, so
near, closer than breathing!"

302 The Leopard's Spots

The roar of the train became sonorous with the
vibration of a great bridge. He looked at his watch.

44 We are more than half way to the stop where I must
leave you and return."

44 How long have you been here?"

44 More than a half hour. It does not seem two minutes.
Only a few minutes more face to face, and all life*
crowding for utterance ! How can I choose what to
say, when my tongue only desires to say I love you !
Bend near and whisper to me again your love vow,"
he cried, in trembling accents.

Close to his ear she placed her lips, holding fast his
hand, whispering again and again, 4'My love — unto
the uttermost. In life, in death, forever !"

He bent again and pressed his lips on her hand and
she felt the hct tears.

44 And now comes the hardest thing of all," she
sobbed. 44I must return to you my ring."

44 For God's sake keep it!" he pleaded.

44 No, I promised Mamma for peace sake I would return
it. She is very weak. I could not dare to hurt her
now with a broken promise. She may not live long. I
could never forgive myself. Keep it for me until I
can wear it."

She placed it in his hand and it burnt like a red-hot
coal. He placed it in an inside pocket next to his heart.
It felt like a huge millstone crushing him. A lump rose
in his throat and choked him until he gasped for breath.

She looked at him pathetically and saw his anguish.

44 Come, my love," she pleaded, reproachfully, 44you
must not make it harder for me. You are a man. You
are stronger than I am. Love is more my whole life
than it can be yours. For this cruel thing I have said
and done, you may press on my lips another kiss. If I am
disobedient to my mother's wishes God will forgive me."

A Blow in the Dark 303

The train blew the long deep call for its hundred-
mile stop and they both rose. He took her hands in his.

"You have promised not to write to me, but I have
made no promise. I will write to you as often as I
can send you a cheerful message," he said.

"It is so sweet of you!"

"You have the little love-token still?" he asked.

"Yes, in my bosom. I feel it warm and throbbing
with your love, and it shall not be taken from me in
the grave."

"That thought will cheer the darkest hours that can
come, and now, till we meet again, we must say good-
by," he said huskily.

She could make no response. He placed his arms
around her, pressed her close to his heart for a moment
— one long, wistful kiss, and he was gone.

He rode slowly back to Hambright. The eastern
horizon was fringed with the light of dawn when he
reached the town. The more he had thought of his
position and the way the General had treated him in
attempting to settle his fate by a fiat of his own will
without a hearing, the more it roused his wrath and
nerved him for the struggle. They were to measure
wills in a contest that on his part had life for its stake.

"I'll give the old warrior the fight of his career!" he
muttered, as he snapped his square jaws together with
the grip of a vise. "My brains and every power with
which nature has endowed me against his will and his
money. And for the dastard who has slandered me
there will be a reckoning."

He was fighting in the dark, but deep down in him he
had a soldier's love for a fight. His soul rose to meet
the challenge of this hidden foe armed in the steel of
a proud heritage of courage. He went to bed and slept
soundly for six hours.

CHAPTER XVI
THL MYSTERY OF PAIN

GASTON awoke next morning at half -past ten
o'clock with a dull headache and a sense of
hopeless depression. His anger had cooled
and left him the pitiful consciousness of his loss. He
slowly and mechanically dressed.

When he buttoned his coat he felt something hard
press against his heart. It was the ring. He sat down
on his bed and drew it from his pocket. To his surprise
he found coiled inside it and tied by a tiny ribbon a
ringlet of her hair. She had taken off the ring in her
mother's presence and promised her to register and mail
it in Atlanta. She had bound this little piece of herself
with it. He kissed it tenderly.

"My God, it is hard!" he groaned. And all the
unshed tears that his eager interest in her presence and
his kindling anger the night before had kept back now
blinded him.

He did not notice his door softly open, nor know his
mother was near until she placed her hand gently on his
shoulder. He looked up at her face full of tender
sympathy, and poured cut to her his trouble in a torrent
of hot, rebellious words.

"What have I done to be treated like a dog in this
way?" he ended, with a voice trembling with protest.

"Perhaps you have offended the General in some
way?"

"Impossible. I have been the soul of deference
to him."

3°4

The Mystery of Pain 305

"He's a very proud man when his vanity is touched,
are you sure of it ? "

"As sure as that I live. No; some scoundrel has
interfered between us and in some unaccountable way
covered me with infamy in the General's eyes."

"But who could have done it?"

" I used my utmost power of persuasion to get it from
her. But she would not tell me. I have been stabbed
in the dark."

"Whom do you suspect? She has a dozen suitors."

"There's only one man among them who is capable of
it — Allan McLeod."

"Nonsense, child. He is not one of her suitors,"
she protested, warmly.

' ' Then why does he hang around the house with such
dogged persistence?"

"He has always had the run of the house. His
father committed him to the General when he died on
the battlefield."

Her face clouded, and then a great pity for his sorrow
filled her heart. She stooped and kissed him.

"Come, Charlie, you must cheer up. If she loves
you, it's everything. You will win her."

"But what rankles in my soul is that 1 have been
treated like a dog. If he objected to my poverty, that
was as evident the first day he welcomed me to his house
as the day he dictated to her his brutal message, refusing
me a word. He welcomed me to his house, and gave
Miss Sallie his approval of our love while I was there.
There could be no mistake, for she told me so."

"I can't understand it," she interrupted.

"Now he suddenly shows me the door and refuses to
allow me to even ask an explanation. If he thinks he
can settle my life for me in that simple manner, I'll
show him that I'll at least help in the settlement."

306 The Leopard's Spots

"Good. I like to see your eyes flash that fire.
Don't forget your resolution. Your enemies are your
best friends/' She said this with a ring of her old
aristocratic pride. "Come," she continued, "I've a
nice warm breakfast saved for you. You don't know
how much good you have done me in my lonely life."

"Dear Mother!" he whispered, pressing her hand.

After breakfast he went to his office and read over
slowly the letters he had received from Sallie, kissed
them one by one, tied them up and sent them to her
mother. He took the ring out of his pocket and locked
it in one of his drawers.

"I can't work to-day. It's no use trying!" he
muttered, looking out of his window. He locked his
office and started downtown with no purpose except
in the walk to try to fight his pain. Instinctively he
found his way to Tom Camp's cottage.

"Tom, old boy, I'm in deep water. You've been
there. I just want to feel your hand."

Tom was clearing up his kitchen with one hand and
holding the other tight over the wound near his spinal
column. He suffered untold agonies through the night
and was suffering yet, but he never mentioned it.

"You've just got your blues again!" Tom laughed.

"No; a devil has stabbed me in the back in the
dark." And he told Tom of his love and his in-
explicable trouble.

"So, so!" Tom mused with dancing eyes. "The
General's gal, Miss Sallie ! My, my, but ain't she a
beauty! Next to my own little gal there she's the
purtiest thing in No'th Caliny. And you're her sweet-
heart, and she told you she loved you?"

"Yes."

•'Then what ails you? Man, to hear that from such
lips as she's got's music enough for a year. You want

The Mystery of Pain 307

the whole regimental band to be playin* all the time.
If she loves you, that's enough now to give you nerve
to fight all earth and hell combined." Tom urged this
with an enthusiasm that admitted no reply.

Flora had climbed in his lap, and was going through
his pockets to find some candy.

"You didn't bring me a bit this time!" she criedf
reproachfully.

"Honey, I forgot it," he apologised.

"I don't believe you love me any more, Charlie,"
she declared, placing her hands on his cheeks and looking
steadily into his eyes. "Am I your sweetheart yet?"

"Of course, dearie, and about the only one I can
depend on."

"La, Charlie, your eyes are red ! " she cried, in surprise.
"Do you cry?"

"Sometimes, when my heart gets too full."

"Then I'll kiss the red away !" she said, as she softly
kissed his eyes.

"That's good, Flora. It will make them better."

"Now, Pappy," she said, triumphantly, "you say I'm
getting too big to cry, and I ain't but eleven years old,
and Charlie's big as you and he cries."

Tom took her in his arms and smoothed his hand
over her fair hair with a tenderness that had in
its trembling touch all the mystery of both mother
and father love in which his brooding soul had
wrapped her.

Gaston returned home with lighter step. He met,
as he crossed the square, the Preacher, who was waiting
for him.

"Come here and sit down a minute. I*ve heard of
your trouble. You have my sympathy. But you'll
come out all right. The oak that's bent by the storm
makes a fiber fit for a ship's rib. You can't make steel

308 The Leopard's Spots

without white heat. God's just trying your temper,
boy, to see if there's anything in you. When he has
tried you in the fire, and the pure gold shines, he will
call you to higher things."

Gaston nodded his assent to this saying. "And yet,
Doctor, none of us like the touch of fire or the smell of
the smoke of our clothes."

"You are right. But it's good for the soul. You
are learning now that we must face things that we don't
like in this world. I am older than you. I will tell
you something that you can't really know until you have
lived through this. Love seems to you at this time the
only thing in the world. But it is not. My deepest
sympathy is with Sallie. She's already pure gold. To
such a woman love is the center of gravity of all life.
This is not true of a strong, normal man. The center
of gravity of a strong man's life as a whole is not in love
and the emotions, but in justice and intellect and their
expression in the wider social relations."

"And that means that I must brace up for this
political fight?"

"Exactly so. And it's the best thing you can do for
your love. Become a power and you can coerce even a
man of the General's character."

"You are right, Doctor. I had my mind about fixed
on that course."

j " You will find the County Committee in session in the
Clerk's office there now. They want to see you. I
tell you to fight this coalition of McLeod and the farmers
every inch up to the last hour it is formed, and if McLeod
wins them and the alliance is made, then fight to break
it every day and every hour and every minute till the
votes are counted out."

Gaston went at once into the consultation with the
Democratic County committee.

CHAPTER XVII
IS GOD OMNIPOTENT ?

AS Gaston left the Preacher, the Reverend Ephraim
Fox approached. He was the pastor of the
Negro Baptist church, and had succeeded old
Uncle Josh at his death ten years before.

He bowed deferentially, and, hat in hand, stood close
to the seat on which Durham was still resting.

"How dis you doan' come down ter our chu'ch en
preach fur us no mo', Br'er Durham ? We been er havin'
powerful times down dar lately, en de folks wants you
ter come en preach some mo'."

"I can't do it, Eph.M

"What de matter, Preacher? We ain't hu't yo'
feelin's, is we?"

"No, not in a personal way; but you've got beyond
me.

"How's dat?" asked Ephraim, rolling his eyes.

"Well, as long as I preach to your folks about heaven
and the glory beyond this world the)'' shout and sweat
and sing. And when I jump on the old sinners in the:
Bible, they are in glee. They like to see the fur fly.
But the minute I pounce on them about stealing and
lying and drinking and lust — they don't want to
furnish any of the fur."

"De Lawd, Preacher, hit's des de same wid de white
folks !" urged Ephraim, with a wink.

"That's so. But the difference is your people talk
back at me after the meeting."

"How's dat?" Ephraim repeated.

309

310 The Leopard's Spots

"Why, when I preach righteousness and judgment on
the thief, and accuse them of stealing, I lose my wood
and my corn and my chickens."

Ephraim was silent a moment and then he smiled as
he said:

"Preacher, dey ain't er nigger in dis town doan'
lub you."

"Yes, I know it. That's why they steal from me
so much."

"Go 'long wid yo' fun!" roared Ephraim. "You
know you ain't gone back on us des' cause some
nigger tuck er stick er wood — dey's sumfin' else — you
cain' fool me."

"Well, you are right; that isn't the main reason.
There are others. You turned a man out of your church
for voting the Democratic ticket."

"Yes; but Preacher," interrupted Eph, impatiently,
"dat wuz er low-down, mena nigger. He didn't hab no
salvation nohow!"

"Then you keep a deacon in your church who served
two terms in the penitentiary."

"But dat's de bes' deacon I got," pleaded Eph, sadly.

"Turn him out, I tell you."

"But dey all does little tings."

"Turn 'em all out."

" Den we ain't got no chu'ch, en de shepherd ain't got
no flock ter tend, er ter shear. You des splain how de
Lawd temper de win' ter de shorn lam'. Den ef I doan'
shear 'em, de win' mought blow too hard on 'em. En
ef I doan' keep 'em in de pen, how kin I shear 'em? I
axes you dat?"

The Preacher smiled and continued, "Then I've heard
some ugly things about you, Eph," suddenly darting a
piercing look straight into his face.

"Who, me?"

Is God Omnipotent? 311

"Yes, you. And I can't afford to go into the pulpit
with you any more. In the old slavery days you were
taught the religion of Christ. It didn't mean crime
and lust and lying and drinking, whatever it meant.
Your religion has come to be a stench. You are getting
lower and lower. You will be governed by no one. I
can't use force. I leave you alone. You have gone
beyond me."

"But de Lawd lub a sinner, en his mercy enduref
foreber!" solemnly grumbled Ephraim.

"In the old days," persisted the Preacher, "I used
to preach to your people. I saw before me many men
of character: carpenters, bricklayers, wheelwrights,
farmers, faithful home servants that loved their masters
and were faithful unto death. Now I see a cheap lot
of thieves and jailbirds and trifling women seated in
high places. You have shown no power to stand alone
on the solid basis of character."

"VThy, Br'er Durham," urged Eph, in an injured
voice, "I baptised inter de kingdom over a hundred
precious souls las' year."

"Yes, but what they needed was not a baptism of
water. You Negroes need a racial baptism into truth,
integrity, virtue, self-restraint, industry, courage,
patience and purity of manhood and womanhood. I
used to be hopeful about you, but I'd just as well
be frank with you — I've given you up. I've said
the grace of God was sufficient for all problems. I
don't know now. I'm getting older and it grows
darker to me. I have come to believe there are
some things God Almighty cannot do. Can God make
a stone so big He can't lift it ? In either event, He is
not omnipotent. It looks like He did just that thing
when He made the Negro. Leave me out of your
calculation, Ephraim."

312 The Leopard's Spots

"Mus' gib de nigger time, Preacher!" Eph muttered,
as he walked slowly away.

When Gaston emerged from the court-house the
Preacher joined him and they walked home to the
hotel together.

"What did the two farmers on your committee think
of the chances of preventing the Alliance from joining
the Negroes?"

" Not much of them. They say we can't do anything
with them when the test comes, unless we 'will indorse
their scheme of issuing money on corn and pumpkins
and potatoes storeu in a government bam. If it comes
to that, I will not prostitute my intellect by advocating
any such measure on the floor of our convention. We
stand for one thing at least, the supremacy of Anglo-
Saxon civilisation. I had rather be beaten by the
Negroes and their allies this time on such an issue."

"But, my boy, if McLeod and his Negroes get control
of this state for four years, they can so corrupt its laws
and its electorate they may hold it a quarter of a century.
We must fight to the last ditch."

"I draw the line at pumpkin leaves for money,"
insisted Gaston.

It was but ten days to the meeting of the Democratic
state convention, and they were coming together
divided in opinion and at sea as to their policy, with
a united militant Farmers' Alliance demanding the
uprooting of the foundations of the economic world,
and a hundred thousand Negro voters grinning at this
opportunity to strike their white foes, while McLeod
stood in the background smiling over the certainty of
his triumph.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE WAYS OF BOSTON

WHEN Helen Lowell reached Boston from her
visit with Sallie Worth she found her father
in the midst of his political campaign. The
Honourable Everett Lowell was the representative of
Congress from the Boston Highlands district. His
home was an old-fashioned white Colonial house built
during the American Revolution.

He was not a man of great wealth, but well-to-do, a
successful politician, enthusiastic student, a graduate
of Harvard, and he had always made a specialty of
championing the cause of the "freedmen." He was a
chronic proposer of a military force bill for the South.

His family was one of the proudest in America. He
had a family tree five hundred years old — an unbroken
line of unconquerable men who held liberty dearer than
life. He believed in the heritage of good, honest blood as
he believed in blooded horses. His home was furnished
in perfect taste, with beautiful old rosewood and
mahogany stuff that had both character and history.
On the walls hung the stately portraits of his ancestors,
representative of three hundred years of American life.
He never confused his political theories about the abstract
rights of the African with his personal choice of associates
or his pride in hi's Anglo-Saxon blood. With him
politics was one thing, society another.

His pet hobby, which combined in one his philanthropic
ideals and his practical politics, was of late a patronage
he had extended to young George Harris, the bright

313

314 The Leopard's Spots

mulatto son of Eliza and George Harris, whose dramatic
slave history had made their son famous at Harvard.

This young Negro was a speaker of fair ability, and
was accompanying Lowell on his campaign tours of the
district, making speeches for his patron, who had
obtained for him a clerk's position in the United States
Custom-House. Harris was quite a drawing card at
these meetings. He had a natural aptitude for politics;
modest, affable, handsome and almost white, he was a
fine argument in himself to support Lowell's political
theories, who used him for all he was worth as he had
at the previous election.

Harris had become a familiar figure at Lowell's home
in the spacious library, where he had the free use of the
books, and frequently he dined with the family, when
there at dinner time hard at work on some political
speech or some study for a piece of music.

Lowell had met his daughter at the depot behind his
pair of Kentucky thoroughbreds. This daughter, his
only child, was his pride and joy. She was a blonde
beauty, and her resemblance to her father was remark-
able. He was a widower, and this lovely girl, at once
the incarnation of his lost love and so fair a reflection of
his being, had ruled him with absolute sway during the
past few years.

He was laughing like a boy at her coming.

"Ah, my beauty, the sight of your face gives me new
life!" he cried, smiling with love and admiration.

"You mustn't try to spoil me!" she laughed.

"Did you really have a good time in Dixie?" he
whispered.

"Papa, such a time!" she exclaimed, shutting her
eyes as though she were trying to live it over again.

"Really?"

"Beaux, morning, noon and night — dancing, moon-

The Ways of Boston 315

light rides, boats gliding along the beautiful river and
mocking-birds singing softly their love-song under the
window all night !"

"Well, you did have romance," he declared.

11 Yes," she went on, "and such people, such hospitality
—I feel as though I never had lived before."

"My dear, you mustn't desert us all like that," he
protested.

"I can't help it; I'm a rebel now."

"Then keep still till the campaign's over ! " he warnedr
in mock fear.

"And the boys down there," she continued, "they are
such boys ! Time doesn't seem to be an object with
them at all. Evidently they have never heard of our
uplifting Yankee motto, ' Time is money.' And such
knightly deference, such charming, old-fashioned,
chivalrous ways!"

"But, dear, isn't that a little out of date?"

"How staid and proper and busy Boston seems! I
know I am going to be depressed by it."

"I know what's the matter with you!" he whistled,

"What?" she slyly asked.

"One of those boys."

"I confess. Papa, he's as handsome as a prince."

"What does he look like?"

"He is tall, dark, with black hair, black eyes, slender,
graceful, all fire and energy."

"What's his name?"

"St. Clare — Robert St. Clare. His father was away
from home. He's a politician, I think."

"You don't say! St. Clare. Well, of all the jokes!
His father is my Democratic chum in the House — an
old fire-eating Bourbon, but a capital fellow."

"Did you ever see him f "

"No, but Fve had good times with his father. He

$i6 The Leopard's Spots

used to own a hundred slaves. He's a royal fellow, and
pretty well fixed in life for a Southern politician. I
don't think, though, I ever saw his boy. Anything
really serious?"

"He hasn't said a word — but he's coming to see me
next week."

"Well, things are moving, I must say!"

"Yes; I pretended I must consult you before telling
him he could come. I didn't want to seem too anxious.
I'm half afraid to let him wandet about Boston much;
there are too many girls here."

Her father laughed proudly and looked at her. "I
hope you will find him. all your heart most desires, and
my congratulations on your first love."

"It will be my last, too," she answered, seriously.

"Ah, you're entirely too young and pretty to
say that ! "

"I mean it," she said, earnestly, with a smile trem-
bling on her lips.

Her father was silent and pressed her hand for an
answer. As they entered the gate of the home, they
met young Harris coming out with some books under
his arm. He bowed gracefully to them and passed on.

"Oh, Papa, I had forgotten all about your fad for
that young Negro ! "

"Well, what of it, dear?"

"You love me very much, don't you?" she asked,
tenderly. "I'm going to ask you to be inconsistent,
for my sake."

"That's easy. I'm often that for nobody's sake.
Consistency is only the terror of weak minds."

"I'm going to ask you to keep that young Negro out
of the house when my Southern friends are here. After
my sweetheart comes I expect Sallie and her mother. I
wouldn't have either of them meet him here in our

The Ways of Boston 317

library, and especially in our dining-room, for anything
on earth."

"Well, you have joined the rebels, haven't you?"

"You know I never did like Negroes anyway," she
continued. ' ' They always gave me the horrors. Young
Harris is a scholarly gentleman, I know. He is good-
looking, talented, and I've played his music for him
sometimes to please you, but I can't get over that little
kink in his hair, his big nostrils and full lips, and when
he looks at me it makes my flesh creep."

"Certainly, my darling, you don't need to coax me.
The Lowells, I suspect, know by this time what is due
to a guest. When your guests come our home and our
time are theirs. If eating meat offends we will live on
herbs. I'll send Harris down to the other side of the
district and keep him at work there until the end of
the campaign. My slightest wish is law for him."

"You see, Papa," she went on, "they never could
understand that Negro's ways around our house, and
I know if he were to sit down at our table with them
they would walk out of the dining-room with an excuse
of illness and go home on the first train."

"And yet," returned her father, lifting her from the
carriage, "their homes were full of Negroes, were they
not?"

"Yes; but they know their place. I've seen those
beautiful Southern children kiss their old black ' Mammy.'
It made me shudder, until I discovered they did it just
as I kiss Fido."

"And this a daughter of Boston, the home of Garrison
and Sumner!" he exclaimed.

"I've heard that Boston mobbed Garrison once,"
she observed.

"Yes; and I doubt if we have canonised Sumner yet.
All right. If you say so, I'll order a steam calliope

318 The Leopard's Spots

stationed at the gate and hire a man to play 'Dixie'
for you !"

She laughed and ran up the steps.

• ••••• a

Sallie determined to keep the secret of her sorrow in
her own heart. On the ocean voyage she had cried the
whole first day, and then kissed her lover's picture, put
it down in the bottom of her trunk, brushed the tears
away, and determined the world should not look on
her suffering.

She had written Helen of her lover's declaration and
of her happiness. She would find a good excuse for her
sorrowful face in their separation. She knew he would
write to her, for he had said so, and she had slipped the
address into his hand as he left the car that night.

At first she was puzzled to think what she could do
about answering these letters so Helen would not
suspect her trouble. Then she hit on the plan of writing
to him every day, posting the letters herself and placing
them in her own trunk instead of the post-box.

"He will read them some day. They will relieve my
heart," she sadly told herself.

Helen met her on the pier with a cry of girlish joy,
and the first word she uttered was:

"Oh, Sallie, Bob loves me! He's been here two
weeks, and he's just gone home. I have been in heaven !
We are engaged!"

"Then I'll kiss you again, Helen." She gave her
another kiss.

"And I've a big letter at home for you already. It's
postmarked 'Hambright.' It came this morning. I
know you will feast on it. If Bob don't write me faith-
fully I'll make him come here and live in Boston."

When Sallie got this letter she sat down in her room
and read and reread its passionate words. There was a

The Ways of Boston 319

tone of bitterness and wounded pride in it. She
struggled bravely to keep the tears back. Then the
tone of the letter changed to tenderness and faith and
infinite love that struggled in vain for utterance.

She kissed the name and sighed. "Now I must go
down and chat and smile with Helen. She's so silly
about her own love, if I talk about Bob she will
forget I live."

CHAPTER XIX
THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT

MRS. WORTH had arrived in Boston a few days
after Sallie, coming direct by rail. She was
still very weak from her recent attack, and it
cut her to the heart to watch Sallie write those letters
faithfully and never mail them out of deference to
her wishes.

One night she drew her daughter down and tenderly
kissed her.

"Sallie, dear, you don't know how it hurts me to see
3?-ou suffer this way, and write, and write these letters
your lover never sees. You may send him one letter a
week; I don't care what the General says."

There was a sob and another kiss, and Sallie was
crying on her breast.

In answer to her first letter, Gaston was thrilled with
a new inspiration. He sat down that night and answered
it in verse. All the deep longings of his soul, his hopes
and fears, his pain and dreams he set in rhythmic
music. Her mother read all his letters after Sallie.
And she cried with sorrow and pride over this poem.

"Sallie, I don't blame you for being proud of such a
lover. Your life is rich hallowed by the love of such a
man. Your father is wrong in his position. If I were
a girl and held the love of such a man I'd cherish it as
I would my soul's salvation. Be patient and faithful."

"Sweet mother heart!" she whispered, as she
smoothed the gray hair tenderly.

320

The Shadow of a Doubt 321

Alian McLeod had arrived in Boston the day before,
and the .norning's papers were full of an interview with
him on iiis brilliant achievement in breaking the ranks
of the Bourbon Democracy in North Carolina and the
certainty of the success of his ticket at the approaching
election.

McLeod sent the paper to Mrs. Worth by a special
messenger, lest she might not see it, and that evening
called. He asked Sallie to accompany him to the
theatre, and when she refused spent the evening.

When her mother had retired McLeod drew his seat
near her and again told her in burning words his love.

"Miss Sallie, I have won the battle of life at its very
threshold. I shall be a United States Senator in a few
months. I want to lead you, my bride, into the gallery
of the Senate before I walk down its aisles to take the
oath. I have loved you faithfully for years. I have
your father's consent to my suit. I asked him before
leaving on this trip. Surely you will not say no?"

"Allan McLeod, I do not love you. I love another.
I hate the sight of you and the sound of your voice."

"If you do not marry Gaston, will you give me
a chance?"

"If I do not marry the man of my choice, I will never
marry."

McLeod returned to the hotel with the fury of the
devil seething in his soul. He determined to return to
Hambright, and if possible entrap Gaston in dissipation
and destroy his faith in Sallie 's loyalty.

He wrote to the General that he had been rejected by
his daughter, who still corresponded with Gaston. When
General Worth received this letter he wrote in wrath to
his wife, peremptorily forbidding Sallie to write another
line to Gaston, and closed, saying:

"I had trusted this matter to you, my dear; now I

322 The Leopard's Spots

take it out of your hands. I forbid another line or
word to this man."

Gaston watched and waited in vain for the letter he
was to receive next week. Again his soul sank with
doubt and fear. What fiend was striking him with an
unseen hand ? He felt he should choke with rage as he
thought of the infamy of such a warfare.

His mother said to him shortly after McLeod's
arrival, "Charlie, I have some bad news for you."

"It can't be any worse than I have — the misery of
an unexplained silence of two weeks."

" I feel that I ought to tell you. It is the explanation
of that silence, I fear."
, "What is it, Mother?" he asked, soberly.

"I hear that Sallie has plunged into frivolous .c xiety,
is dancing every night at the hotel at Narr gansett
Pier, where they are stopping now, and flirting with a
half-dozen young men."

"I don't believe it," growled Gaston.

"I'm afraid it's true, Charlie, and I'm furious with
her for treating you like this, I thought she had more
character."

"I'll love and trust her to the end!" he declared, as
he went moodily to his office. But the poison of sus-
picion rankled in his thoughts. Why had she ceased to
write ? Was not this mask of society a habit with those
who had learned to wear it ? Was not habit, after all,
life? Could one ever escape it? It seemed to him
more than probable that the old habits should reassert
themselves in such a crisis, a thousand miles removed
from him or his personal influence. He held a very
exaggerated idea of the corruption of modern society.
And his heart grew heavier from day to day with the
feeling that she was slipping away from him.

CHAPTER XX
A NEW LESSON IN LOVE

McLEOD returned home to find his plans of
political success in perfect order. The pro-
gramme went through without a hitch. In
spite of the most desperate efforts of the Democrats he
carried the state by a large majority and made, for the
Republican party and its strange allies, the first breach
in the solid phalanx of Democratic supremacy since
Legree left his legacy of corruption and terror.

The Legislature elected two Senators. To the
amazement of the world, the day before the caucus of
the Republicans met, McLeod withdrew. He had no
opposition so far as anybody knew, but a curious thing
had happened. The Reverend Jchn Durham discovered
the fact that McLeod kept fi still and had established
his mother as an illicit distiller years before. One of
his deputies, who had become an inebriate, confessed
this to the Doctor, who had informed the Preacher.

The Preacher put this important piece of information
into the hands of a daiing young Republican who had
always bten one from principle. He went to Raleigh
and interviewed McLeod. At first McLeod denied
and blustered and swore. When confronted with the
proofs, he gave up and asked, sullenly:

"What do you want?"

"Get out of the race."

"Ail right. Is that all? You're on top."

^No; give me the nomination."

"Never!" he yelled, with an oath.

323

324 The Leopard's Spots

"Then I'll expose you in to-morrow morning's
paper and that's the end of you."

McLeod hesitated a moment and then said: " I'll agree.
You've got me. But I'll make one little condition. You
must give me the name of your informant."

"The Reverend John Durham."

"I thought as much."

To the amazement of every one, McLeod waived
the crown and placed it on the head of one of his lieu-
tenants. He returned to Hambright from this dramatic
event with an unruffled front. To his cronies he said:
" Bah ! I was joking. Never had any idea of taking the
office for myself. I'm playing for larger stakes. I make
these puppets and pull the strings."

He devoted himself assiduously in the leisure which
followed to Mrs. Durham. He never intimated to
Durham that he knew anything about the part he had
taken in his withdrawal from the Senatorship. Nor had
the Preacher told his* wife of his discovery. They had
quarrelled several times about McLeod. His wife
seemed determined to remain loyal to the boy she
had taught.

McLeod in his talk with her intimated that he had
withdrawn from a desire vaguely forming in his mind to
get out of the filth of politics altogether, sooner or later,
influenced by her voice alone.

With subtle skill he played upon her vanity and jeal-
ousy, and at last felt that he had entangled her so far
he could dare a declaration of his feelings. There was
one element only in her mental make-up he feared. She
held tenaciously the old-fashioned romantic ideals of
love. To her it seemed a divine mystery linking the sou)
that felt it to the infinite. If he could only destroy this
divine mystery idea, he felt sure that her sense of isola-
tion and her proud rebellion against the disap-

A New Lesson in Love 325

pointments of life would make her an easy prey to his
blandishments.

He searched his library over for a book that could
scientifically demonstrate the purely physical basis of
love. He knew that somewhere in his studies at a
medical college in New York he had read it.

At last he discovered it among a lot of old magazines.
It was a brief study by a great physician of Paris,
entitled "The Natural History of Love." He gave it to
her, and asked her to read it and give him her candid
opinion of its philosophy.

He waited a week and on a Saturday when the
Preacher was absent at one of his county mission
stations he called at the hotel for a long afternoon's
talk. He determined to press his suit.

"Do you know, Mrs. Durham, what gives a preacher
his boasted power of the spirit over his audiences ? " he
inquired with a curious laugh, in the midst of which he
changed his tone of voice.

"No. You are an expert on the diseases of preachers ;
what is it? "

"Very simple. Religion is founded on love. There
never was a magnetic preacher who was not a resistless
magnet for scores of magnetic women. If you don't be-
lieve it, watch how resistless is the impulse of all these
good-looking women to shake hands with their preacher,
and how fondly they look at him across the pews if the
crowd is too dense to reach his hand."

A frown passed over her face, and she winced at the
thrust, yet her answer was a surprising question to him:

"Do you really believe in anything, Allan? "

"You ask that?" he said, leaning closer. "You
whose great, dark eyes look through a man's very soul ? "

" I begin to think I have never seen yours. I doubt ii
you have a soul."

326 The Leopard's Spots

"Well, what's the use of a soul? I can't satisfy the
wants of my body."

"Answer my question. Do you believe in anything ? "

"Yes," he replied, his voice sinking to a tense whisper»
"I believe in Woman — in love."

"In Woman?"

"Yes, Woman."

"You mean women," she sneered.

He started at her answer, looked intently at her, and
said deliberately:

"I mean you, the One Woman, the only woman in the
world to me."

"I do not believe one word you have uttered, yet I
confess with shame you have always fascinated me."

"Why with shame? You have but one life to live.
The years pass. Even beauty so rare as yours fades at
last. The end is the grave and worms. Why dash from
your beautiful lips the cup of life when it is full to the
brim?"

1 ' How skilfully you echo the dark thoughts that flit
on devil wings through the soul, when we feel the bitter-
ness of life's failure, its contradictions and mysteries ! "
she exclaimed, closing her eyes for a moment and leaning
back in her chair.

"You've often talked to me about the necessity of
some sort of slavery for the Negro if he remain in
America. I begin to believe that slavery is a necessity
for all women."

"I fail to see it, sir."

"All women are born slaves and choose to remain so
through life. It is curious to see you, a proud, imperious
woman, born of a race of unconquerable men, staggering
to-day under the chains of four thousand years of con-
ventional laws made by the brute strength of men.
And you, if you struggle at all, beat your wings against

A New Lesson in Love 327

the bars that the slave-hoiding male brute has built about
your soul, fall back at last and give up to the will of your
master. This, too, when you hold in your simple will
the key that would unlock your prison door and make
you free. It's a pitiful sight."

" How shrewd a tempter ! "

" There you are again. He who dares to tell you that
you are of yourself a living human being, divinely free,
is a tempter from the devil. You are thinking about
eternity. Well, now is eternity. Live, stand erect, take
a deep breath, and dare to be yourself and do what you
please. That is what I do. The future is a myth."

-"Yes, I know the freedom of which you boast," she
quietly observed, "it is the freedom of lust. The return
to nature you dream of is simply the fall downward into
the dirt out of which a rational and spiritual manhood
has grown. I feel and know this in spite of your hand-
some face and the fine ring of your voice."

"Dirt! Dirt!" he mused. "Yes, I was in the dirt
once, was born in it, the dirt of poverty and superstition
and fears of laws here and hereafter. But I awoke at
last and shook it off, washed myself in knowledge and
stood erect. I am a man now, with the eye of a king,
conscious of my power. I look a lying, hypocritical
world in the face. I have made up my mind to live my
own life in spite of fools, and in spite of the laws and
conventions of fools."

1 ' And yet I believe you carry a horse-chestnut in your
pocket, and will not undertake an important work on
Friday?" she returned.

"But I never strangle a normal impulse of my
nature that I can satisfy. I am not that big a fool,
at least."

She was silent, and then said, " I can never thank you
enough for the book you sent me."

328 The Leopard's Spots

McLeod sighed in relief at her change of tone. Aftei
all, she was just tantalising him.

"Then you liked it? " he cried, with glittering eyes.

1 ' I devoured every word of it with a greed you can-
not understand. A great man wrote it."

"Then we can understand each other better from
to-day," he interrupted, smilingly.

"Yes, far better. You gave me this book hoping that
it might influence my character by destroying my ideal
of love, didn't you — now frankly ? *'

"Honestly, I did hope it would emancipate you from
superstitions."

" It has," she declared, but with a curious curve of her
lip that chilled him.

"What are you driving at? " he asked, suspiciously.

' ' This book has given me the key that unlocked for me,
for the first time, the riddle of my physical being. It
has shown me the physical basis of love, just as I knew
before there was a physical basis of the soul."

1 ' What did you understand the book to teach ? " he
asked.

"Simply that love is based in its material life on the
lobe of the brain which develops at the base of a child's
head near the age of thirteen. That this lobe of the brain
is the sex center, and love is impossible until it develops.
That this center of new powers at the base of the skull
is a physical magnet. That when a man and woman
approach each other, who are by nature mates, these
magnetic centers are disturbed by action and reaction,
and that this disturbance develops the second elemental
passion called love. The first elemental passion, hunger,
has for its end the preservation of the individual ; while
love finds its fulfillment in the preservation of the
species. Love finds its satisfaction in the child, its
ardour cools, and it dies, unless kept alive by the social

A New Lesson in Love 329

conventions of the family, which are not based merely
on this violent emotion, but also on unity of tastes,
which produce the sense of comradeship. For these
reasons it is possible to fall violently in love more than
once, and there are dozens of people who possess this
magnetic power over us and would respond to it violently
if we only came in social contact with them. That the
romantic bombast about the possibility of but one love
in life, and that of supernatural origin, is twaddle, and
leads to false ideals. Have I given the argument ? "

"Exactly. But what do you deduce from it ? "

"Freedom."

"Good! " he cried, licking his lips.

"Freedom from superstitions about love," she an-
swered, "and positive knowledge of its elemental beauty
which Nature reveals. In short, I no longer wonder and
brood over your charm for me. I know exactly what it
means, and how it might occur again and again with
another and another. I have simply throttled it in a
moment by an act of my will, based on this knowledge."

1 ' You amaze me ! ' '

"No doubt. One's character centers in the soul, or
the appetites. Mine is in the soul ; yours in the appetites.
I see you to-day as you really are, and I loathe you with
an unspeakable loathing. You have opened my eyes
with this beautiful little book of Nature. I thank you.
Your scientist has convinced me that there are possibly
a hundred men in the world who would affect me as you
do, were we to meet. And when I looked back into the
sweet face of my dead boy, I learned another truth, that
in the union of my first great love I was bound in mar-
riage, not simply by a social convention or a state con-
tract, but for life by Nature's eternal law. The period
of infancy of one child extends over twenty-one years,
covering the whole maternal life of the woman who mar-

3$o The Leopard's Spots

ries at the proper age of twenty-four. This union of one
man and one woman never seemed so sacred to me af
now. It is Nature's law; it is God's law."

McLeod's anger was fast rising.

"Don't fool yourself," he sneered. "You may over-
work your maternal intuitions. You remember the kiss
you gave me when a boy just fifteen? Well, you fooled
yourself then about its maternal quality. The magnet
of my red head drew your coal black one down to it with
irresistible power."

"Perhaps so, Allan. Your work is done. There is
the door. I say a last good-by, with pity for your
shallow nature and the bitter revelation you have
given me of your worthlessness."

Without another word he left, but with a dark resolu-
tion of slander with which he would tarnish her name
and wring the Preacher's heart with anguish.

CHAPTER XXI
WHY THE PREACHER THREW HIS LIFE AWAY

WHILE Mrs. Worth and Sallie were still in the
North, the Reverend John Durham received
a unanimous call to the pastorate of one of
the most powerful Baptist churches in Boston, with a
salary of five thousand dollars a year. He was receiving
a salary of nine hundred dollars at Hambright, which
could boast at most a population of two thousand. He
declined the call by return mail.

The committee were thunderstruck at thi quick
adverse decision, refused to consider it final, and wrote
him a long, urgent letter of protest against such ill-
considered treatment. They urged that he must come
to Boston and preach one Sunday, at least, in answer
to their generous offer, before rendering a final decision.
He consented to do so, and went to Boston. He sought
Sallie the day after his arrival.

"Ah, my beautiful daughter of the South, it's good to
see you shining here in the midst of the splendours of
the Hub, the fairest of them all I " he said, shaking her
hand feelingly.

"You mean pining, not shining," she protested.

"That's better still. I knew your heart was in the
right place."

"How is he, Doctor? " she asked.

"He's trying to pull himself together with his work,
and succeeding. The shock of a great sorrow has
steadied his nerves and broadened his sympathies,
and it will make him a man."

33*

2$2 The Leopard's Spots

A look of longing came over her face. " I don't want
him to be too strong without me," she faltered.

"Never fear. He's so despondent at times I have to
try to laugh him out of countenance."

She smiled and pressed his hand for answer as he rose
to go.

" How do you like these Yankees, Miss Sallie ? "

"I've been surprised and charmed beyond measure
with everything I've seen."

"You don't say so! How?"

"Well, I thought they were cold-blooded and inhospi-
table. I never made a more foolish mistake. I have
never been more at home or been treated more graciously
in the South. To tell you the truth, they seem like our
most cultured people at home, warm-hearted . cordial,
sensible and neighbourly. Mamma is so pleased she's
trying to claim kin ^ith the Puritans through her
Scotch Covenanter ancestry."

"After all, I believe you are right. I never preached
in my life to so sensitive an audience. There's an at-
mosphere of solid comfort, good sense and intelligence
here that holds me in a spell. This is the place in which
I've dreamed I'd like to live and work."

"Then you will accept, Doctor? "

"Now listen to you, child! Don't you think I've a
heart, too ? My brain and body longs for such a home,
but my heart's down South with mine own people who
love and need me."

The committee did their best to bring the Preacher
to a favourable decision at once, but he smiled a firm
refusal. They refused to report it to the church, and
sent Deacon Crane, now a venerable man of seventy-six,
the warmest admirer of the Preacher among them all, to
Hambright. They authorised him to make an amazing
offer of salary, if that would be an inducement.

Why the Preacher Threw His Life Away 333

When the Deacon reached Hambright and saw its
poverty and general air of unimportance he felt
encouraged.

"A man of such power stay a lifetime in this little
hole? Impossible!" he exclaimed under his breath,
when he looked out of the bus along the wide, deserted-
looking streets, with a straggling cottage here and there
on either side.

He stopped at the same hotel with the Preacher and
became his shadow for a week. He was seated with
him under the oak in the square, threshing over his
argument for the hundredth time in the most good-
natured but everlastingly persistent way.

"Doctor, it's perfect nonsense for a man of your mag-
nificent talents, of your culture and power over an audi-
ence, to think of living always in a little village like this ! "

"No, Deacon, my work is here tor the South."

"But, my dear man, in Boston it would be for the
whole nation, North and South. I'll tell you what we
will do. Say you will come, and we will make your
salary eight thousand a year. That's the largest salary
ever offered a Baptist Preacher in America. You will
pack our church with people, give us new life, and we
can afford it. You will be a power in Boston, and a
power in the world."

The Preacher smiled and was silent. At length he said :

"I appreciate your offer, Deacon. You pay me the
highest compliment you know how to express. But you
prosperous Yankees can't get into your heads the idea
that there are many things which money can't measure."

11 But we know a good thing when we see it, and we go
for it ! " interrupted the Deacon.

"Believe me," continued the Preacher, "I appreciate
the sacrifice, the generosity and breadth of sym-
pathy this offer shows in your hearts. But it is not for

334 The Leopard's Spots

me. My work is here. I don't mind confessing to you
that you have vastly pleased me with that offer. I'll
brag about it to myself the rest of my life."

" But, Doctor, think how much greater power a gener-
ous salary will give you in furnishing your equipment
for work and in ministering to any cause you may have
at heart," pleaded the Deacon.

"I don't know. I have a salary of nine hundred dol-
lars. With five hundred I buy books, food, clothes,
shelter, the companionship for the soul. The balance
suffices for the body. I haven't time to bother with
money. The man who receives a big salary must live
up to its social obligations, and he must pay for it with
his life."

"Doctor, there must be some tremendous force that
holds you to such a decision in a village. It seems to me
you are throwing your life away."

"There is a tremendous force, Deacon. It's the over-
whelming sense of obligation I feel to my own people
who have suffered so much, and are still in the grip of
poverty and threatened with greater trials. I can't
leave my own people while they are struggling yet with
this unsolved Negro problem. Two great questions
shadow the future of the American people, the conflict
between Labour and Capital and the conflict between
the African and the Anglo-Saxon race. The greatest,
most dangerous and most hopeless of these is the latter.
My place is here."

The Deacon laughed. "You're a crank on that subject.
Come to Boston and you will see with a better perspec-
tive that the question is settling itself. In fact, the war
absolutely settled it."

"Deacon," said the Preacher, with a quizzical expres-
sion about his eyes, "do you believe in the doctrine of
Election?"

Why the Preacher Threw His Life Away 335

"Yes, I do."

"I thought so. You know, I never saw a man who
believed in the doctrine of Election who didn't believe he
was elected. I never saw a man in my life, except a
lying politician, who declared the Negro problem was
settled, unless he had removed his family to a place of
fancied safety where he would never come in contact
with it. And they all believe that the Negro's place is
in the South."

The Deacon laughed good-naturedly.

1 ' Come with us and we will show you greater prob-
lems. For one, the life and death struggle of Christianity
itself with modern materialism. I tell you the Negro
problem was settled when slavery was destroyed."

"You never made a sadder mistake. The South did
not fight to hold slaves. Our Confederate Government
at Richmond offered to guarantee to Europe the freedom
of every slave for the recognition of our independence.
Slavery was bound of its own weight to fall. Virginia
came within one vote in her Assembly of freeing her
slaves years before the war. But for the frenzy of your
Abolition fanatics, who first sought to destroy the Union
by Secession and then forced Secession on the South, we
would have freed the slaves before this without a war,
from the very necessities of the progress of the material
world, to say nothing of its moral progress. We fought
for the rights we held under the old constitution, made
by a slave-holding aristocracy. But we collided with
the resistless movement of humanity from the idea of
local sovereignty toward nationalism, centralisation,
solidarity."

"That's why I say," interrupted the Deacon, "your
Negro question has already been settled. The nation has
become a reality, not a name."

"And that is why I know, Deacon," insisted the

3 $6 The Leopard's Spots

Preacher, "that we have not only not settled this ques-
tion— we haven't even faced the issues. Nationality
demands solidarity. And you can never get solidarity
in a nation of equal rights out of two hostile races that
do not intermarry. In a Democracy you cannot build
a nation inside of a nation of two antagonistic races ; and
therefore tlie future American must be either an Anglo-
Saxon or a Mulatto. And if a Mulatto, will the future
be worth discussing? "

"I never thought of it in just that way," answered
the Deacon.

"It is my work to maintain the racial absolutism cf
the Anglo-Saxon in the South, politically, socially,
economically."

"But can it be done? I see many evidences of
a mixture of blood already," said the Deacon,
seriously.

"Yes, we are doing it. This mixture you observe has
no social significance, for a simple reason. It is all the
result of the surviving polygamous and lawless instincts
of the white male. Unless by the gradual encroachments
of time, culture, wealth and political exigencies the time
comes when a negro shall be allowed freely to choose a
white woman for his wife, the racial integrity remains
intact. The right to choose one's mate is the foundation
of racial life and of civilisation. The South must guard
with naming sword every avenue of approach to this holy
of holies. And there are many subtle forces at work to
obscure these possible approaches."

"Well, no matter," broke in the Deacon; "come with
us and you will have more power to touch with your
ideas the wealth and virtue of the whole nation."

The Preacher was silent a moment and seemed to be
musing in a sort of half dream. The Deacon looked at
him with a growing sense of the hopelessness of his task

Why the Preacher Threw His Life Away 337

but of surprise at this revelation of the secrets of his
inner life.

"The South has been voiceless in these later years,"
he went on; "her voice has been drowned in a din of
cat-calls from an army of cheap scribblers and dema-
gogues. But when these children we are rearing down
here grow, rocked in the cradles of poverty, nurtured
in the fierce struggle to save the life of a mighty race,
they will find speech, and their songs will fill the world
with pathos and power.

"I've studied your great cities. Believe me, the South
is worth saving. Against the possible day when a flood
of foreign anarchy threatens the foundations of the
Republic and men shall laugh at the faiths of your
fathers, and undigested wealth beyond the dreams of
avarice rots your society, until it mocks at honour,
love and God — against that day we will preserve
the South!"

The Preacher's voice was now vibrating with deep
feeling, and the Deacon listened with breathless interest.

"Believe me, Deacon, the ark of the covenant of Ameri-
can ideals rests to-day on the Appalachian Mountain
range of the South. When your metropolitan mobs
shall knock at the doors of your life and demand the
reason of your existence, from these poverty-stricken
homes, with their old-fashioned, perhaps medieval
ideas, will come forth the fierce athletic sons and sweet-
voiced daughters in whom the nation will find a new
birth." The Preacher's eyes had filled with tears and
his voice dropped into a low, dreamlike prophecy.

"You cannot understand," he resumed, in a clear
voice, "why I feel so profoundly depressed just now be-
cause the Republican party, which with you stands for
the virtue, wealth and intelligence of the community, is
now in charge of this state. I will tell you why. A

338 The Leopard's Spots

Republican administration in North Carolina simply
means a Negro oligarchy. The state is now being
debauched and degraded by this fact in the innermost
depths of its character and life. My place is here in
this fight."

"But, Doctor, will not your industrial training of the
Negro gradually minimise any danger to your society ? ' '

"No ; it will gradually increase it. Industrial training
gives power. If the Negro ever becomes a serious com-
petitor of the white labourer in the industries of the
South, the white man will kill him, just as your Labour-
Unions do in the North now where the conditions of life
are hard and men fight with tooth and nail for bread.
If you train the Negroes to be scientific farmers they
will become a race of aristocrats, and when five genera-
tions removed from the memory of slavery a war of races
will be inevitable, unless the Anglo-Saxon grant this
trained and wealthy African equal social rights. The
Anglo-Saxon cannot do this without suicide. One drop
of Negro blood makes a Negro."

"I can't tell you how sorry I am, Doctor, that I can't
persuade you to become our pastor. But I can under-
stand since this talk something of the larger views of
your duty."

The Deacon sought Mrs. Durham that evening and laid
siege to her resolutely.

"Ah ! Deacon, you're shrewd — you are going to flatter
me, but I can't let you. I'm an old fogy and out of date.
I'm not orthodox on the Negro from Boston's point
of view."

"Nonsense! " growled the Deacon. "We don't care
what you or the Doctor either thinks about the Negro
or the Jap or the Chinaman. We want a preacher
imbued with the power of the Holy Ghost to preach
the Gospel of Christ."

Why the Preacher Threw His Life Away 339

"Well, you have quite captured me since you have
been here. You are a revelation to me of what a deacon
might be to a pastor and his wife. To be frank with you,
I am on your side. I am tired of the Negro. I don't
want to solve him. He is an impossible job from my
point of view. I should be delighted to go to Boston now
and begin life over again. But I do not figure in the
decision. Doctor Durham settles such questions for
himself. And I respect him more for it."

Encouraged by this decision of his wife, the Deacon
renewed his efforts to change the Preacher's mind next
day, but in vain. He stayed over Sunday, heard him
preach two sermons, and sorrowfully bade him good-by
on Monday. He carried back to Boston his final word
declining this call.

As the Deacon stepped on the train, he warmly pressed
his hand and said : " God bless you, Doctor. If you ever
need a friend, you know my name and address."

CHAPTER XXII
THE FLESH AND THE SPIRIT

GASTON tried to wait in patience another week
for a word from the woman he loved, and when
the last mail came and brought no letter for
him he found himself face to face with the deepest soul
crisis of his life.

After all, thoughts are things. The report of her
social frivolities at first made little impression on him.
But the thought had fallen in his heart and it was
growing a poisoned weed.

It is possible to kill the human body with an idea. The
fairest day the spring ever sent can be blackened and
turned from sunshine into storm by the flitting of a little
cloua of thought no bigger than a man's hand.

So Gaston found this thought of dancing and flirting
in gay society by the woman whom he had enthroned
in the holy of holies of his soul to be destroying his
strength of character and like a deadly cancer eating
his heart out.

He sat down by his window that night, unable to
work, and tried to reconcile such a life with his ideal.

"Why should I be so provincial! ,T he mused. "The
thing only shocks me because I am unused to it. She
has grown up in this atmosphere. To her it is a harm-
less pastime."

Then he took out of his desk her picture, lit his
lamp and looked long and tenderly at it, until his soul
was drunk again with the memory of her beauty, the

340

The Flesh and the Spirit 341

warm touch of her hand and the thrill of her full soft
lips in the only two kisses he had ever received from the
heart of a woman.

Then the vision of a ballroom came to torture him.
He could see her dressed in that delicate creation of
French genius he had seen her wear the memorable night
at the Springs. The French know so deeply the subtle
art of draping a woman's body to tempt the soul of men.
How he cursed them to-night ! He could see her bare
arms, white, gleaming shoulders, neck, and back, and
round full bosom softly rising and falling with her
breathing, as she swept through a brilliant ballroom to
the strains of entrancing music.

He knew the dance was a social convention, of course.
But its deep Nature significance he knew also. He knew
that it was as old as human society, and full of a thou-
sand subtle suggestions — that it was the actual touch of
the human body, with rhythmic movement, set to the
passionate music of love. This music spoke in quivering
melody what the lips did not dare to say. This he knew
was the deep secret of the fascination of the dance for
the bov and the girl, the man and the woman.

His imagination leaped the centuries that separate us
from the great races of the past who scorned humbug
and hypocrisy, and held their dances in the deep shadows
of great forests, without the draperies of tailors. These
men and women looked Nature in the face and were not
afraid, and did not try to apologise or lie about it. He
felt humiliated and betrayed.

He thought, too, of her wealth with a feeling of resent-
ment and isolation. Taken with this social nightmare it
seemed to raise an impassable barrier between them. He
knew that in the terrible quarrel she had with her father
on their first clash he had sworn if she disobeyed him
to disinherit her. She had answered him in bitter

342 The Leopard's Spots

defiance. And yet time often changes these noble
visions of poverty and strenuous faith in high ideals.
Wealth and all its good things becomes with us at last
habit. And habit is life.

Could it be possible she had weakened in resolution of
loyalty when brought face to face with the actual break-
ing of the habits of a lifetime? Might not the three
forces combined: the habit of social conventions, the
habit of luxury and the habit of obedience to a master-
ful and lovable father, be sufficient to crush her love at
last ? It seemed to him to-night not only a possibility
but almost an accomplished fact.

At one o'clock he went to bed and tried to sleep. He
tossed for an hour. His brain was on fire and his
imagination lit with its glare. He could sweep the
world with his vision in the silence and the darkness
— yes, the world that is, and that which was, and is
to come.

He arose and dressed. It was half past two o'clock.
He knew that this was to be the first night in all his life
when he could not sleep. He was shocked and sobered
by the tremendous import of such an event m the
development of his character. He had never been rwept
off his feet before. He knew now that before the sun
rose he would fight with the powers and princes of the
air for the mastery of life.

He left his room and walked out on the road to the
Springs over which he had gone so many times in child-
hood. The moon was obscured by fleeting clouds and
the air had the sharp touch of autumn in its breath. He
walked slowly past the darkened, silent houses and felt
his brain begin to cool in the sweet air.

The last note he had received from her, weeks ago,
was the brief one announcing the new break in the poor
little correspondence she had promised him. The last

The Flesh and the Spirit 343

paragraph of that note now took on a sinister meaning.
He recalled it word by word:

11 1 feel like I cannot trifle with you in this way again.
It is humiliating to me and to you. I can see no light
in our future. I release you from any tie I may have im-
posed on your life. I feel I have fallen short of what you
deserve, but I am so situated between my mother's fail-
ing health and my father's will, and my love for them
both, I cannot help it. I will love you always, but you
are free."

Was not this a kindly and final breaking of their
pledge to one another? Yet she had not returned the
little medal he had given her with that exchange of
eternal love and faith. Could she keep this and really
mean to break with him finally ? He could not believe it.

His whole life had been dominated by this dream of an
ideal love. For it he had denied himself the indulgences
that his college mates and young associates had taken as
a matter of course. He had never touched wine. He
had never smoked. He had never learned the difference
between a queen and a jack in cards. He had kept away
from women. He had given his body and soul to the
service of his Ideal, and bent every energy to the develop-
ment of his mind that he might grasp with more power
its sweetness and beauty when realised.

Did it pay? The Flesh was shrieking this question
now into the face of the Spirit.

He had met the One Woman his soul had desired above
all others. There could be no mistake about that.
And now she was failing him when he had laid at her feet
his life. It made him sick to recall how utter had been
his surrender.

Why should he longer deny the flesh, when the soul's
dream failed the test of pain and struggle ?

VTas it possible that he had been a fool and was

344 The Leopard's Spots

missing the full expression of life, which is both
flesh and spirit?

The world was full of sweet odours. He had delicate
and powerful nostrils. Why not enjoy them ? The world
was full of beauty ravishing to the eye. He had keen
eyes trained to see. Why should he not open his eyes
and gaze on it all? The world was full of entrancing
music. He had ears trained to hear. Why should he
stuff them with dreams of a doubtful future and not
hear it all ? The world was full of things soft and good
to the touch. Why should he not grasp them? His
hands were cunning, and every finger tingled with
sensitive nerve tips. The world was full of good things
sweet to the taste. Why should he not eat and drink
as others, as old and wise perhaps?

Was a man full-grown until he had seen, felt, smelled,
tasted and heard all life? Was there anything, after
all in good or bad ? Were these things not names f If
not, how could we know unless we tried them? What
was the good of good things?

"Am I not a narrow-minded fool, instead of a wise
man, to throttle my impulses and deny the flesh for an
imaginary gain? " he asked himself aloud.

She had written he was free.

"Well, by the eternal, I will be free! " he exclaimed.
"I will sweep the whole gamut of human passion and
human emotion. I will drink life to the deepest dregs of
its red wine. I will taste, feel, see, touch, hear all. I will
not be cheated. I will know for myself what it is to live. "

When he woke to the consciousness of time and place
he found he was seated at the Sulphur Spring where it
gushed from the foot of the hill, and that the eastern
horizon was gray with the dawn.

A sense of new-found power welled up in him. He
had regained control of himself.

The Flesh and the Spirit 345

"Good. I will no longer be a moping lovesick fool.
I am a man. To will is to live; to cease to will is to die..
I have regained my will — I live ! ' '

He walked rapidly back to town with vigorous step,
His mind was clear.

" I will never write her another line until she writes to
me. I will not be a dog and whine at any rich man's door
or any woman's feet. The world is large, and I am large.
I will be sought as well as seek. Besides, my country
needs me. If I am to give myself up it will be for larger
ends than for the smiles of one woman."

And then for two weeks he entered deliberately on a
series of dissipations. He left Hambright and sought
convivial friends on the seacoast. He amazed them
by asking to be taught cards.

He swept the gamut of all the senses without reserve r
day after day and night after night.

At the end of two weeks he found himself haunt-
ing the post-office oftener, with a vague sense of
impending calamity.

"The thing's all over, I tell you ! " he said to himself
again and again. And then he would hurry to the next
mail as eagerly as ever. As the excitement began to
tire him, the sense of longing for her face and voice and
the touch of her hand became intolerable.

"My God, I'd give all the world holds of sin to see her
and hear one word from her lips ! " he exclaimed, as he
locked himself in his room one night.

"Why didn't she answer my last letter? " he con-
tinued. "Ah, that was the best letter I ever wrote
her ! I put my soul in every word. I didn't believe
the woman lived who could read such confessions and
such worship without reply. Surely she has a heart ! "

When he went to the post-office the next day he got a
letter forwarded from Hambright by the Preacher. It

346 The Leopard's Spots

was postmarked Narragansett Pier, and addressed in a
bold masculine hand he had never seen before.

He tore it open, and inside found his last letter to
Sallie Worth, returned with the seal unbroken. He
sprang to his feet with flashing eyes, trembling from
head to foot.

"Ah, they did not dare to let her receive another of
my letters ! So a clerk returns it unopened," he cried.
"And a great lump rose in his throat as he thought of
the scenes of the past two weeks. The old fever and the
old longing came rushing over his prostrate soul now in
resistless torrents: "How dare a strange hand touch
a message to her! I could strangle him. We will see
now who wins the fight." He set his lips with deter-
mination, packed his valise, and took the train for
home without a word of farewell to the companions
of his revels.

When he reached Hambright he felt sure of a letter
from her. A strange joy filled his heart.

"I have either got a letter or she's writing one to me
this minute ! " he exclaimed.

He went to the post-office in a state of exhilaration.
The letter was not there. But it did not depress him.

"It is on the way," he quickly said.

For two days he remained in that condition of tense,
nervous excitement and expectation, and on the follow-
ing day he opened his box and found his letter.

"I knew it ! " he said, with a thrill of joy that was
half awe at the remarkable confirmation he had received
of their sympathy.

He hurried to his office and read the big, precious
message.

How its words burned into his soul ! Every line
seemed alive with her spirit. How beautiful the sight
of her handwriting ! He kissed it again and again. He

The Flesh and the Spirit 347

read with bated breath. The address was doubly-
expressive, because it contained the first words of
abandoned tenderness with which she had ever written
to him, except in the concealed message dotted in the
note that broke their early correspondence.

"My Darling: I have gone through deep waters
within the last three weeks. I became so depressed and
hungry to see you I felt some awful calamity was hang-
ing over you and over me, and that it was my fault. I
could scarcely eat or sleep.

"I felt I should go mad if I did not speak, and so I
told Mamma. She sympathised tenderly with me, but
insisted I should not write. She is so feeble I could
not cross her. Ah, the agony of it ! Sometimes I
saw you drowning and stretching out your hands to
me for help.

11 Sometimes in my dreams I saw you fighting against
overwhelming odds with strong, brutal men, whose faces
were full of hate, and I could not reach you.

"I was nervous and unstrung, but you can never know
how real the horror of it all was upon me.

"I made up my mind one night to telegraph you. I
heard some one talking inside Mamma's room. I gently
opened the door between our rooms, and she was pray-
ing aloud for me. I stood spellbound. I never knew
how she loved me before. When at last she prayed
that in the end I might have the desire or my heart, and
my life be crowned with the joy of a noble man's love,
and that it might be yours, and that she should be
permitted to see and rejoice with me, I could endure
it no longer.

" Choking with sobs, I ran to her kneeling figure, threw
my arms around her neck and covered her dear face with
kisses.

34-3 The Leopard's Spots

"I could not send the message I had written after that
scene.

"The next day Papa came, and she told him in my
presence: 'Now, General, I have carried out your wishes
with Sallie against my judgment. The strain has been
more than you can understand. I give up the task.
You can manage her now to suit yourself.'

"There was a firmness in her voice I had never heard
before. He noted it, and was startled into silence by it.
He had a long talk with me and repeated his orders with
increasing emphasis.

"The next day I was unusually depressed. I did not
get out of bed all day. At night I went down to supper.
The clerk at the desk of the hotel called me and said:
'Miss Worth, I have a terrible sin to confess to you.
I'm a lover myself, and I've done you a wrong. I
returned to a young man yesterday a letter to you
by request of the General. Forgive me for it, and
don't tell him I told you.'

"That night Papa and I had a fearful scene. I will not
attempt to describe it. But the end was, I said to him
with all the courage of despair : ' I am twenty-one . years
old. I am a free woman. I will write to whom I please
and when I please and I will not ask you again. It is
your right to turn me out of your house, but you shall
not murder my soul.'

"Then for the first time in his life Papa broke down
and sobbed HV" a child. We kissed and made up, and I
am to write to you when I like.

"Forgive my long silence. Write and tell me you love
me. My heart is sick with the thought that I have been
cowardly and failed you. Write me a long letter, and
you cannot say things extravagant enough for my
hungry heart.

"I feel utterly helpess when I think how completely

The Flesh and the Spirit 349

you have come to rule my life. I wish you to rule it.
It is all yours "

And then she said many foolish things that only
the eyes of one lover should ever see, for only to him
could they have meaning.

When he finished reading this letter and had devoured
with eagerness these foolish extravagances with which
she closed it he buried his face in his arms across his
desk.

A big, strong, boastful man whose will had defied
che world— now he was crying like a whipped child.

THE TRIAL BY FIRE

HSooh Gbree-Gbe Grial b? fire

CHAPTER I
A GROWL BENEATH THE EARTH

APPARENTLY McLeod's triumph was complete
and permanent. The farmers were disap-
pointed in their wild hopes of a sub-treasury
and other socialistic schemes, but the passions of the
campaign had been violent, and the offices they had
won with their Negro ally had been soothing to their
sense of pride.

A Republican farmer was Governor for a term of four
years ; they had elected two Senators and three Supreme
Court judges, and they had completely smashed the
power of the Democratic party in the county govern-
ments. Everywhere they were triumphant in the local
elections, filling almost every county office with heavy-
handed sons of toil from the country districts, and
making the town fops who had been drawing these fat
salaries get out and work for a living.

Even McLeod was amazed at the thoroughness with
which they cleaned the state of every vestige of the
invincible Democracy that had ruled with a rod of iron
since Legree's flight.

Gaston could see but one weak spot in the alliance.
The Negroes had demanded their share of the spoils and
were gradually forcing their reluctant allies to grant
them. He watched the progress of this movement with
thrilling interest. The Negroes had demanded the
repeal of the county government plan of the Democracy,

353

354 The Leopard's Spots

under which the credit of the forty black counties had
been rescued from bankruptcy at the expense of local
self-government.

When the lawmakers who succeeded Legree had put
this scheme of centralised power in force, these forty
counties were immediately lifted from ruin to prosperity.
But no Negro ever held another office in them.

Now the Negroes demanded the return to the princi-
ples of pure Democracy and the right to elect all town,
township and county officers direct. They got their
demands. They took charge in short order of the great,
rich counties in the Black Belt, and white men ceased
to hold the offices.

A Negro college-graduate from Miss Walker's classical
institution had started a newspaper, at Independence,
noted for its open demands for the recognition of the
economic, social and political equality of the races.
Young Negro men and women walking the streets now
refused to give half the sidewalk to a white man cr
woman when they met, and there were an increasing
number of fights from such causes.

Gaston noted these signs with a growing sense of their
import and began his work for the second great cam-
paign. The election for a Legislature alone he knew
was lost already. His party had simply abandoned the
fight. The allied party had passed new election laws,
and under the tutelage of the doubtful methods of the
past they had taken every partisan advantage possible
within the limits of the Constitution. They could not
be overthrown short of a political earthquake, and he
knew it, But he thought he heard in the depths of the
earth the low rumble of its coming, and he began to
prepare for it.

CHAPTER II
FACE TO FACE WITH FATE

THREE weeks before Christmas Gaston began to
dream of the visit he was to make to Independ-
ence to see Sallie Worth. How long it seemed
since she had kissed him in the twilight of that Pullman
car and the Limited had rolled away, bearing her farther
and farther from his life ! He would sit now for an
hour reading her last letter, looking at her picture on
his desk and dreaming of what she would say when
he sat by her side again in her own home.

And then like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky came
a tearful letter announcing another storm at home. Her
father had again forbidden her to write. She said, at
the last, that Gaston's visit must be postponed indefi-
nitely for the present. He gazed at the letter with a
hardened look.

"I will go. I'll face General Worth in his owe home
and demand his reasons for such treatment. I am a
man. I am entitled to the respect of a man." He
made this declaration with a quiet force that left no
doubt about his doing it.

He wrote Sallie that he could not and would not
endure such a fight in the dark with the General, and
that he was going to Independence on the day before
Christmas as she had planned at first, to have it out
with him face to face.

She wrote in reply and begged him under no circum-

35?

356 The Leopard's Spots

stances to come until conditions were more favourable.
He got this letter the day before he was to start.

"I'll go and I'll see him if I have to fight my way into
his house; that's all there is to it!" he exclaimed.

When he reached Independence, St. Clare met him
at the depot and gave him an eager welcome.

"I've been expecting you, you hard-headed fool!"
he said, impulsively.

"Well, your words are not equal to your handshake.
What's the matter?" asked Gaston.

"You know what's the matter. Miss Sallie has been
to see me this afternoon and begged me to chain you
at my house if you came to town to-day."

"Well, you'll need handcuffs, and help to get them
on," replied Gaston, with quiet decision.

"Look here, old boy, you're not going down to that
house to-night with the old man threatening to kill
you on sight, and your girl bordering on collapse?"

"I am. I've been bordering on collapse for some
time myself. I'm getting used to it."

"You're a fool."

"Granted; but I'll risk it."

"But, man, I tell you Miss Sallie will be furious with
you if you go after all the messages she has sent you."

"I'll risk her fury, too."

"Gaston, let me beg you not to do it."

"I'm going, Bob. It isn't any use for you t« waste
your breath."

"You know where my heart is, old chum," said Bob,
yielding reluctantly. " I couldn't go down to that house
to-night under the conditions you are going for the
world."

"Why not? It's the manly thing to do."

"It's a dangerous thing to do. Fathers have killed
men under such conditions."

Face to Face with Fate 357

"Well, I'll risk it. I'm going as soon as I can brush
up a little."

Bob walked with him to the outskirts of the city,
begging in vain that he should turn back, but he never
slacked his pace.

When he turned to go home Bob pressed his hand
and said, "Good luck! And may your shadow never
grow less."

Gaston walked rapidly on toward Oakwood. As he
passed through the shadows of the forest near the gate
a flood of tender memories rushed over him. He was
back again by her side on that morning he met her, with
the first flush of love thrilling his life. He could see
her looking earnestly at him as though trying to solve
a riddle. He could hear her laughter full of joy and
happiness. As he turned into the gateway the house
flashed on him its gleaming windows from the hilltop.
He felt his heart sink with bitterness as he realised the
contrast of his last entrance into that house, its welcomed
guest, and his present unbidden intrusion. Once those
lights had gleamed only a message of peace and love.
Now th y seemed signals of war some enemy had set
on the hill to warn of his approach.

He paused a moment and wiped the perspiration from
his brow. It was Christmas Ev2, but the air was balmy
and springlike and his rapid wa.k had tired him. He
had eaten nothing all day, had slept only a few hours the
night before, and the nerve strain had been more than
he knew.

He looked up at the great white pillars softly shining
in the starlight, and a sickening fear of a possible
tragedy behind those doors crept over him.

"My God!" he exclaimed, "I had rather charge a
breastworks in the face of flashing guns than go into
that house to-night and meet one man I"

358 The Leopard's Spots

He recognised the breach of the finer amenities of life
involved in forcing his way into a house under such
conditions, and it humiliated him for a moment.

"We will not stickle for forms now," he said to him-
self, firmly. ' ' This is war. I am to uncover the batteries
of my enemy. I have hesitated long enough. I will not
fight in the dark another day/'

As he stepped briskly up to the door he started at a
sudden thought. What if the General had ordered the
servants to slam the door in his face ? The possibility
of such an unforeseen insult made the cold sweat break
out over his face as he rang the bell. No matter; he
was in for it now — he would face hell if need be.

He waited but an instant, and heard the heavy tread
of a man approach the door. Instinctively he knew
that the General himself was on guard and would open
the door. Evidently he had expected him.

The door opened about two feet and the General
glared at him livid with rage, He held one hand on
the door and the other on its facing, and his towering
figure filled the space.

"Good-evening, General !" said Gaston, with embar-
rassment.

"What do you want, sir?" he growled.

"I wish to see you for a few minutes."

"Well, I don't want to see you."

"Whether you wish to or not, you must do it sooner
or later," answered Gaston, with dignity.

"Indeed! Your insolence is sublime, I fiaust
say."

"The sooner you and I have a plain talk the better for
both of us. It can't be put off any longer," Gaston
continued, with self-control. He was looking the General
straight in the eyes now, with head and broad shoulders
erect, and his square-cut jaws were snapping his words

Face to Face with Fate 359

with a clean emphasis that was not lost on the older
master of men before him.

"Call at my office in the morning at ten o'clock," he
said, at length.

"I will not do it. I am going home on the nine o'clock
train. To-morrow is Christmas Day. The issue between
us is of life import to me, and it may be of equal impor-
tance to you. I will not put it off another hour."

The General glared at him. His hands began to
tremble, and, raising his voice, he thundered:

1 ' I am not accustomed to take orders from young
upstarts. How dare you attempt to force yourself
into my house when you were told again and again not
to attempt it, sir?"

1 ' Your former welcome to me on three occasions when
the object of my visits was as well known to you as
to me, gives me, at least, the vested rights of a final
interview. I demand it," retorted Gaston, curtly.

"And I refuse it." Still there was a note of inde<»
cision in his voice which Gaston was quick to catch.

"General," he protested, "you are a soldier and a
gentleman. You never fought an enemy with uncivilised
warfare. Yet you have allowed some one under your
protection to stab me in the dark for the past year. I
am entitled to know why I fight and against whom.
I ask your sense of fairness as a soldier if I am not
right?"

The General hesitated, and finally said, as he opened
the door:

"Walk into the parlour."

When they were seated, Gaston plunged immediately
into the question he had at heart.

"Now, General, I wish to ask you plainly why you
have treated me as you have since I asked you for your
daughter's hand?"

360 The Leopard's Spots

"The less said about it the better. I have good and
sufficient reasons, and that settles it."

"But I have the right to know them."

"What right?"

"The right of every man to face his accuser when on
trial for his life."

"Men don't die nowadays for love, or women either,"
the General growled.

"Besides," continued Gaston, "you are under the
deepest obligations to tell me fairly your reasons."

"Obligations?"

"The obligations of the commonest justice between
man and man. You invited me to your home. I was
your welcome guest. You encouraged my suit for your
daughter's hand."

"How dare you say such a thing, sir?"

"Because she told me you did. I was led to believe
that you not only looked with favour on my suit but
that you were pleased with it. I asked for your daughter.
You insulted my manhood by refusing me permission
even to seek an interview, and know the reasons for your
change of views. Since then you have treated me with
plain brutality. Now something caused this change."

"Certainly something caused it, something of tremen-
dous importance," said the General.

"I am entitled to know what it is."

"Simply this. I received information concerning
you, your habits, your associates, your character and
your family that caused me to change my mind."

"Did you inquire as to their truth?"

" It was unnecessary. I love my daughter beyond all
other treasures I possess. With her future I will take
no risks."

"I have a right to know the charges, General,"
insisted Gaston. "I demand it."

Face to Face with Fate 361

"Well, sir, if you demand it, you will get it. I
learned that you are a man of the most dissolute habits
and character, that you are a hard drinker, a gambler,,
a rake and a spendthrift, and that your family history
is a deplorable one."

"My family history a deplorable one!" cried Gaston^
springing to his feet, with trembling, clenched fists and
scarlet face, on which the blue veins suddenly stood out.

"I begged you to spare me and yourself the pain of
this," replied the General, in a softer voice.

V No, I do not ask to be spared. Give me the particu-
lars. What is the stain on my family name?"

"Not a moral one, but in some respects more hopeless,
a physical one. I have positive information that your
people on one side are what is known in the South as
poor white trash "

Gaston smiled. "I thank you, General, for your
frankness. The only wrong of which I complain is
your withholding the name of the liar."

"There is no use of a fight over such things. I do
not wish my daughter's name to be smirched with it."

"Her name is as dear to me as it can possibly be to
you. Never fear. You are her father; I honour you as
such. I thank you for the information. I scorn to
stoop to answer. The humour of it forbids an answer it
I could stoop to make one. Now, General, I make you
this proposition. I am not in a hurry. I will patiently
wait any time you see fit to set for any developments in
my life and character about which you have doubts.
All I ask is the privilege of writing to the woman I love.
Is this not reasonable?"

"No, sir," declared the General; "I will not have it„
You are not in a position to make me a proposition of
any sort. I have settled this affair. It is not open fo*
discussion."

362 The Leopard's Spots

u You mean to say that I have no standing whatever
in the case?" asked Gaston with a smile, rubbing his
hand over his smooth-shaved lips and chin.

"Exactly. I've settled it. There's nothing more to
be sa^'d."

"I'll never give her up. She is the one woman God
made for me, and you will have to put me under the
ground before you have settled my end of it," said
Gaston, still smiling.

The old man's face clouded for a moment; he wrinkled
his brow, drew his bushy eyebrows closer, and then
turned toward Gaston in a persuasive way.

"Look here, Gaston, don't be a fool. It's amusing to
me to hear a youngster talk such drivel. Love is not a
fatal disease for a man or a woman. You will find that
out later if you don't know it now. I loved a half-dozen
girls, and when I got ready to marry I asked the one
handiest and that seemed most suited to my temper.
We married and have lived as happily as the romancers.
The world is full of pretty girls. Go on about your
business and quit bothering me and mine."

"There's only one girl for me, General."

"That's proof positive to my mind that you are a little
cracked," he answered, with a smile.

Gaston laughed and shook his head. "I'll never give
her up in this world, or the next," he doggedly added.

Again the General frowned. "Look here, young
man, did it ever occur to you that your pursuit might
be held the work of a low adventurer ? My daughter is an
heiress. You haven't a dollar. Don't you know that
I will disinherit her if she marries without my consent ? "

"You can't frighten me on that tack," answered
Gaston, firmly. "No dollar mark has yet been placed
on the doors of Southern society. Manhood, character
and achievement are the keys that unlock it. You know

Face to Face with Fate 363

that, and I know it. I was poorer and more obscure the
day you first invited me here than to-day. And yet you
gave me as hearty a welcome as her richest suitor. All
I ask is time to prove to you in my life my manhood and
worth — one year, two years, five years, ten years, any
time you see fit to name."

M No, sir," firmly snapped the General; "not a day. 1
don't like long engagements. Yours is ended, once and
for all time. I have settled that."

"Can even a father decide the destiny of two immortal
souls offhand like that?"

"Now you are assuming too much. I am not
speaking for myself alone. I have laid all the facts
carefully before Sallie and she has agreed to the wisdom
of my decision and asked me to represent her in what
I say this evening."

Gaston turned pale, his lips quivered, and, turning to
the General suddenly, he said:

"That is the only important fact you have laid before
me. Just let her come here, stand by your side and
say that with her own lips, and I will never cross your
path in life again."

The General hung his head and stammered: "No; it
is not necessary. It will embarrass and humiliate her.
I will not permit it."

"Then I deny ycur credentials!" exclaimed Gaston.

The General seemed embarrassed by the failure of
this fatherly subterfuge, and Gastor could not help
smiling at the revelation of his weakness. He decided
to press his advantage and try to see her if only for a
moment.

"General," protested Gaston, persuasively, "I appeal
to your sense of courtesy, even to an enemy. After all
that has passed between us in this house, is it fair or
courteous to show me that door without one word of

364 The Leopard's Spots

farewell to the woman to whom I have given my life?
Or is it wise from your point of view? "

Again the General hesitated. He was a big-hearted
man of generous impulses, and he felt worsted in this
interview somehow, but it was hard to deny such a
request. He fumbled at his watch-chain, arose and
said :

"I will see if she desires it."

Gaston's heart bounded with joy. If she desired it !
He could feel her soul enveloping him with its Ijve as
he sat there conscious that she was so: :ewhere in that
house praying for him.

He fairly choked with pain and the joy of the certainty
that in a moment he would be near her, touch her
hand, see her glorious beauty and his ears drink the
music of her voice.

"Just step this way," said the General, reappearing
at the door.

Gaston walked into the hall and met Sallie as she
emerged from the library door opposite. He tried to
say something, but his throat was dry and his tongue
paralysed with the wonder of her presence. Besides,
the General stood grimly by like a guard over a life
prisoner.

He looked searchingly into her eyes as he held her
hand for a moment and felt its warm impulsive pressure.
Oh, the eyes of the woman we love ! What are words
to their language of melting tenderness, of faith and
longing? Gaston felt like shouting In the General's
face his triumph. She tried to speak, but only pressed
his hand again. It was enough.

He bowed to the General, and left without a word.

CHAPTER III
A WHITE LIE

THAT night as he walked back through the streets
he was thrilled with a sense of strength and of
triumph. He knew his ground now. There
was to be war between him and the General to the bitter
end. He had never asked her once to oppose her
father's or mother's command. Now he would see who
was master in a test of strength. And he was eager for
the struggle. His mind was alert, and every nerve and
muscle tense with energy.

"Heavens, how hungry I am ! " he exclaimed, when he
reached the brilliantly lighted business portion of the
city.

He went into a restaurant, ordered a steak, and
enjoyed a good meal. He recalled then that he had not
eaten for twenty-four hours. The steak was good, and
the faces of the people seemed to him lit with gladness.
He was singing a battle-song in his soul, and the eyes of
the woman he loved looked at him with yearning
tenderness.

"Now, Bob, I count on you,5' he cried to his friend
next morning. "I am going to have a merry Christmas
and you are to aid in the skirmishing."

"I'm with you to the finish!" Bob responded, with
enthusiasm.

"We must make a feint this morning to deceive the
enemy while I turn his flank. I go home on the nine
o'clock train. You understand?"

365

366 The Leopard's Spots

"Yes, over the left. It's dead easy, too. There's to
be a big Christmas party to-night at the Alexanders'.
She's invited, I'll see that she goes to it if I have to
drag her."

"Good. Don't tell her I'm in town. I want to
surprise her."

The General had a man at the morning train who
reported Gaston's departure. He was surprised at
Sallie's good spirits, but attributed it to the magnificent
present he had given her that morning of a diamond
ring and an exquisite pearl necklace.

He bustled her off to the party that night and con-
gratulated himself on the certainty of his triumph over
an aspiring youngster who dared to set his will against
his own.

When the festivities had begun, and the children were
busy with their fireworks, Sal lie strolled along the
winding walks of the big lawn. She was chatting with
Bob St. Clare about a young man they both knew, and
when they reached the corner farthest from the house,
under the shadows of a great magnolia with low, over-
hanging boughs, she saw the figure of a man.

She smiled into Bob's face, pressed his hand and said:

"Now, Bob, you've done all a good friend could do.
Go back. I don't need you."

And Bob answered with a smile and left her. In a
moment Gaston was by her side with both her hands in
his kissing them tenderly.

"Didn't I surprise you, dear?" he softly asked.

"No. Bob denied you were here, but I knew it was
a story. I was sure you would never leave without
seeing me. You couldn't, could you?"

"Not after what I saw in your eyes last night!" he
whispered.

"It seems a century since I've heard your voice,"

A White Lie 367

she said, wistfully. "God alone knows what I have
suffered, and I am growing weary of it."

"Do you think I have been treated fairly?" he asked*

"No, I do not."

"Then you will write to me?"

"Yes. I will not starve my heart any longer." And
she pressed his hand.

" You have made the world glorious again ! When
will you marry me, Sallie?" he bent his face close to
her, and for an answer she tenderly kissed him.

They stood in silence a moment with clasped hands,
and then she said, slowly: "You didn't want your free-
dom, did you, dear? That's the third kiss, isn't it? I
wonder if kissing will be always as sweet ! But you
asked me when we can marry? I can't tell now. I
can do nothing to shock Mamma. She seems to draw
closer and closer to me every day. And now that I
have determined no power shall separate us, it seems
more and more necessary that I shall win Papa's consent.
He loves me dearly. I feel that I must have his blessing
on our lives. Give me time. I hope to win him."

"And you will never let another week pass without
writing to me?"

"Never. Send my letters to Bob. He loves you
better than he ever thought he loved me. He will give
them to me on Sundays at church, and when he calls."

For two hours the kindly mantle of the magnolia
sheltered them while they told the old, sweet story over
and over again. And somehow that night it seemed to
them sweeter each time it was told.

CHAPTER IV

THE UNSPOKEN TERROR

'HEN Gaston reached Hambright the following
day and whispered to his mother the good
news, he hastened to tell his friend, Tom
Camp. The young man's heart warmed toward the
white-haired old soldier in this hour of his victory. With
sparkling eyes he told Tom of his stormy scene with
the General, of its curious ending, and the hours he
spent in heaven beneath the limbs of an old magnolia.

Tom listened with rapture. "Ah, didn't I tell you
if you hung on you'd get her by and by? So you
bearded the General in his den, did you? I'll bet his
eyes blazed when he seed you! He's got an awful
temper when you rile him. You ought to a-seed him
one day when our brigade was ordered into a charge
where three concealed batteries was cross-firin' and men
was fallin' like wheat under the knife. Geeminy, but
didn't he cuss ! He wouldn't take the order fust from
the orderly, and sent to know if the Major-General meant
it. I tell 3rou us fellers that was layin' there in the grass
listenin' to them bullets singin' thought he was the
finest cusser that ever ripped an oath.

"He reared and he charged and he cussed, and he
damned that man for tryin' to butcher his men, and he
never moved till the third order came. That was the
night ten thousand wounded men lay on the field,, and
me in the middle of 'em with a Minie ball in my shoulder.
The Yankees and our men was all mixed up together,

368

The Unspoken Terror 369

and just after dark the full moon came up through
the trees and you could see as plain as day. I begun to
sing the old hymn, 'There is a land of pure delight,'
and you ought to have heard them ten thousand
wounded men sing!

"While we was singing the General came through
lookin' up his men. He seed me and said:

'"Is that you, Tom Camp?'

"I looked up at him, and he was crying like a child,
and he went on from man to man cryin' and cussin' the
fool that sent us into that hell-hole. The General's a
rough man if you rub his fur the wrong way, but his
heart's all right. He's all gold, I tell you."

"Well, I'm in for a tussle with hirn, Tom."

"Shucks, man, you can beat him with one hand tied
behind you if you've got his gal's heart. She's got his
fire, and a gal as purty as she is can just about do what
she pleases in this world."

" I hope she can bring him around. I like the General.
I'd much rather not fight him."

" Where's Flora ? " cried Tom, looking around in alarm.

"I saw her going toward the spring in the edge of
the woods there a minute ago," replied Gaston.

Tom sprang up and began to hop and jump down the
path toward the spring with incredible rapidity.

Flora was playing in the branch below the spring and
Tom saw the form of a negro man passing over the
opposite hill, going along the spring path that led in
that direction.

"Was you talkin' with that nigger, Flora?" asked
Tom, holding his hand on his side and trying to recover
his breath.

"Yes, I said ' Howdy !' when he stopped to get a drink
of water, and he give me a whistle," she replied, with
a pout of her pretty lips and a frown.

37° The Leopard's Spots

Tom seized her by the arm and shook her. "Didn't
I tell you to run every time you seed a nigger, unless I
was with you I"

" Yes, but he wasn't hurting me, and you are ! "
she cried, bursting into tears.

44 I've a notion to whip you good for this!" Tom
stormed.

"Don't, Tom; she won't do it any more, will you,
Flora?" pleaded Gaston, taking her in his arms and
starting to the house with her. When they reached the
house Tom was still pale and trembling with excitement.

"Lord, there's so many triflin' niggers loafin' round
the country now stealing and doin' all sorts of devilment,
I'm scared to death about that child. She don't seem
any more afraid of 'em than she is of a cat."

"I don't believe anybody would hurt Flora, Tom —
she's such a little angel," said Gaston, kissing the tears
from the child's face.

"She is cute — ain't she ? " said Tom, with pride. " I've
wished many a time lately I'd gone out West with them
Yankee fellers that took such a likin' to me in the war.
They told me that a poor white man had a chance out
there, and that there weren't a nigger in twenty miles of
their home. But then I lost my leg — -how could I
go then?"

He sat dreaming with open eyes for a moment and
'continued, booking tenderly at Flora, "But, baby, don't
you dare go nigh er nigger, or let one get nigh you, no
more'n you would a rattlesnake ! "

44 1 won't, Pappy!" she cried, with an incredulous
smile at his warning of danger that made Tom's heart
sick. She was all joy and laughter, full of health and
bubbling life. She believed with a child's simple faith
that all nature was as innocent as her own heart.

Tom smoothed her curls and kissed her at last, and

The Unspoken Terror 371

she slipped her arm around his neck and squeezed it
tight.

"Ain't she purty and sweet now?" he exclaimed.
"Tom, you'll spoil her yet," warned Gaston as he
smiled and took his leave, throwing a kiss to Flora as he
passed through the little yard gate. Tom had built
a fence close around his house when Flora was a baby,
to shut her in while he was at work.

Two days later about five o'clock in the afternoon, as
Gaston sat in his office writing a letter to his sweetheart,
his face aglow with love and the certainty that she was
his as he read and reread her last glowing words he was
startled by the sudden clang of the court-house bell. At
first he did not move, only looking up from his paper.
Sometimes mischievous boys rang the bell and ran down
the steps before any one could catch them. But the bell
Continued its swift stroke, seeming to grow louder and
•Vilder every moment. He saw a man rush across the
square, and then the bell of the Methodist and then of
the Baptist churches joined their clamour to the alarm.

He snapped the lid of his desk, snatched his hat and
ran down the steps.

As he reached the street he heard the long, piercing
cry of a woman's voice, high, strenuous, quivering:

"A lost child! A lost child!"

What a cry ! He was never so thrilled and awed by
a human voice. In it was trembling all the anguish of
every mother's broken heart transmitted through the
centuries.

At the court-house door an excited group had gathered.
A man was standing on the steps gesticulating wildly
and telling the crowd all he knew about it. Over the
din he caught the name,

"Tom Camp's Flora!"

He breathed hard, bit his lips, and prayed instinctively Q

$72 The Leopard's Spots

" Lord have mercy on the poor old man ! It will kill
him." A great fear brooded over the hearts of the
crowd, and soon the tumult was hushed into an awed
silence.

In Gaston's heart that fear became a horrible cer-
tainty from the first. Within a half-hour a thousand
white people were in the crowd. Gaston stood among
them, cool and masterful, organising them in search-
ing parties, and giving to each group the signals
to be used.

In a moment the white race had fused into a homo-
geneous mass of love, sympathy, hate and revenge.
The rich and the poor, the learned and the ignorant,
the banker and the blacksmith, the great and the small,
they were all one now. The sorrow of that old one-
legged soldier was the sorrow of all; every heart beat
with his, and his life was their life, and his child
their child.

But at the end of an hour there was not a Negro
among them ! By some subtle instinct they had
recognised the secret feelings and fears of the crowd
and had disappeared. Kad they been beasts of the
field the gulf between them would not have been deeper.

When Gaston reached Tom's house the crowd was
divided into the groups agreed upon and a signal gun
given to each. If the child was not dead when found
two should be fired — if dead, but one.

He sought Tom to be sure there was no mistake and
that the child had not fallen asleep about the house.
He found the old man shut up in his room kneeling in
the middle of the floor praying.

When Gaston laid his hand gently on his shoulder
his lips ceased to move, and he looked at him in a dazed
sort of way at first without speaking.

"Oh— it's you, Charlie !" he sighed.

The Unspoken Terror 373

' "Yes, Tom! Tell me quick. Are you sure she is
nowhere in the house?"

"Sure? Sure?" he cried in a helpless stare. "Yes,
yes, I found her bonnet at the spring. I looked every-
where for an hour before I called the neighbours."

"Then I'm off with the searchers. The signal is two
guns if they find her alive. One gun if she is dead.
You will understand."

'* Yes, Charlie," answered the old soldier in a far-away
tone of voice, "and don't forget to help me pray while
you look for her."

"I've tried already, Tom," he answered, as he pressed
his hand and left the house. All night long the search
continued and no signal gun was heard. Torches and
lanterns gleamed from every field and wood, byway and
hedge for miles in every direction.

Through every hour of this awful night Tom Camp
was in his room praying — his face now streaming with
tears, now dry and white with the unspoken terror that
could stop the beat of his heart. His white hair and
snow-white beard were dishevelled as he unconsciously
tore them with his trembling hands. Now he was crying
in an agony of intensity:

"As thy servant of old wrestled with the angel of the
Lord through the night, so, oh God, will I lie at Thy feet
and wrestle and pray ! I will not let Thee go until Thou
bless me. Though I perish, let her live. I have lost all
and praise Thee still. Lord, Thou canst not leave me
desolate !"

From the pain of his wound and the exhaustion of
soul and body he fainted once with his lips still moving
in prayer. For more than an hour he lay as one dead.
When he revived, he looked at his clock, and it was but
en hour till dawn.

Again he fell on his knees, and again the broker

374 The Leopard's Spots

accents of his husky voice could be heard wrestling
with God. Now he would beg and plead like a child,
and then he would rise in the unconscious dignity of an
immortal soul in combat with the powers of the infinite,
and his language was in the sublime speech of the old
Hebrew seers.

Just before the sun rose the signal gun pealed its
message of life, ONE ! TWO ! in rapid succession.

Tom sprang to his feet with blazing eyes. One!
Two! echoed the guns from another hill, and fainter
grew its repeated call from group to group of the
searchers.

"There! Glory to God!" He screamed at the top
of his voice, the last note of his triumphant shout
breaking into sobs. "God be praised! I knew they
would find her! She's not dead; she's alive! alive!
Oh, my soul, lift up thy head!"

The tramp of swift feet was heard at the door and
Gaston told him with husky, stammering voice:

"She's alive, Tom, but unconscious. I'll have her
brought to the house. She was found just where your
spring branch runs into the Flat Rock, not five hundred
yards from here in those woods. Stay where you are.
We will bring her in a minute."

Gaston bounded back to the scene.

Tom paid no attention to his orders to stay at home,
but sprang after him, jumping and falling and scrambling
up again as he followed. Before they knew it he was
upon the excited, tearful group that stood in a circle
around the child's body.

Gaston, who was standing on the opposite side from
Tom's approach, saw him and shouted:

"My God, men, stop him! Don't let him see her
yet!"

But Tom was too quick for them. He brushed aside

The Unspoken Terror 375

the boy who caught at him, as though a feather, crying
"Stand back!"

The circle of men fell away from the body and in a
moment Tom stood over it transfixed with horror.

Flora lay on the ground with her clothes torn to
shreds and stained with blood. Her beautiful yellow
curls were matted across her forehead in a dark-red
lump beside a wound where her skull had been crushed.
The stone lay at her side, the crimson mark of her life
showing on its jagged edges.

With that stone the brute had tried to strike the
death blow. She was lying on the edge of the hill with
her head up the incline. It was too plain, the terrible
crime that had been committed.

The poor father sank beside her body with an inarticu-
late groan as though some one had crushed his head
with an axe. He seemed dazed for a moment, and,
looking around, he shouted hoarsely:

"The doctor, boys! The doctor, quick! For God's
sake, quick ! She's not dead yet — we may save her !
Help ! Help i" he sank again to the ground, limp and
faint from pain, and was soon insensible.

Gaston gathered the child tenderly in his arms and
carried her to the house. The men hastily made a
stretcher and carried Tom behind him.

CHAPTER V

A THOUSAND-LEGGED BEAST

'HILE Gaston and the men were carrying Flora
and Tom to the house, another searching
party was formed. There were no women
and children among them, only grim-visaged, silent men
and a pair of little mild -eyed, sharp-nosed bloodhounds.
All the morning men were coming in from the country
and joining this silent army of searchers.

Doctor Graham came, looked long and gravely at
Flora and turned a sad face toward Tom.

The old soldier grasped his arm before he spoke.

*'Now, Doctor, wait — don't say a word yet. I don't
want to know the truth, if it's the worst. Don't kill
me in a minute. Let me live as long as there's breath
in her body — after that — well, that's the end — there's
no thin' after that!"

The Doctor started to speak.

"Wait," pleaded Tom, "let me tell you something.
I've been praying all night. I've seen God face to face.
She can't die. He told me so "

He paused, and his grip on the Doctor's arm relaxed
as though he were about to faint, but he rallied.

The kindly old Doctor said gently, "Sit down, Tom."

He tried to lead Tom away from the bed, but he held
©n like a bulldog.

The child breathed heavily and moaned.

Tom's face brightened. "She's comin' to, Doctor —
thank God!"

376

A Thousand-Legged Beast 377 -

The Doctor paid no more attention to him and went
on with his work as best he could.

Tom laid his tear-stained face close to hers, and
murmured soothingly to her as he used to when she
was a wee baby in his arms :

"There, there, honey, it will be all right now! The
Doctor's here, and he'll do all he can. And what he
can't do, God will. The Doctor'll save you. God will
save you. He loves you. He loves me. I prayed all
night. He heard me. I saw the shinin' glory of His
face. He's only tryin' His poor, old servant."

The broken artery was found and tied and the bleeding
stopped. When the wound in her head was dressed
the Doctor turned to Tom:

"That wound is bad, but not necessarily fatal."

"Praise God!"

"Keep the house quiet and don't let her see a strange
face when she regains consciousness," was his parting
injunction.

The next morning her breathing was regular, and
pulse stronger, but feverish; and about seven o'clock
she came out of her comatose state and regained con-
sciousness. She spoke but once, and apparently at
the sound of her own voice immediately went into a
convulsion, clenching her little fists, screaming, and
calling to her father for help.

When Tom first heard that awful cry and saw her
terrified eyes and drawn face he tried to cover his own
eyes and stop his ears. Then he gathered the little
convulsed body into his arms and crooned into her ears :

"There, Papy's baby, don't cry! Papy's got you
now. Nothin' can hurt you. There, there, nothin'
shall come nigh you ! ' '

He covered her face with tears and kisses, while he
whispered and soothed her to sleep. When the noon

378 The Leopard's Spots

train came up from Independence, General Worth
arrived. Tom had asked Gaston to telegraph for him
in his name.

Tom eagerly grasped his hand. "General, I knowed
you'd come — you're a man to tie to. I never knowed
you to fail me in your life. You're one of the smartest
men in the world, too. You never got us boys in a hole
so deep you didn't pull us out "

"What can I do for you?" interrupted the General.

"Ah, now's the worst of all, General. I'm in water
too deep for me. My baby, the last one left on earth,
the apple of my eye, all that holds my old achin' body
to this world — she's — about — to — die ! I can't let her.
General, you must save her for me. I want more
doctors. They say there's a great doctor at Independ-
ence. I want 'em all. Tell 'em it's a poor, old one-
legged soldier who's shot all to pieces and lost his wife
and all his children — all but this one baby. And I

can't lose her ! They'll come, if you ask 'em " His

voice broke.

"I'll do it, Tom. I'll have them here on a special in
three hours, or maybe sooner," returned the General,
pressing his hand and hurrying to the telegraph office.

The doctors arrived at three o'clock and held a
consultation with Doctor Graham. They decided that
the loss of blood had been so great that the only chance
to save her was in the transfusion of blood.

"I'll give her the blood, Tom," said Gaston, quietly,
removing his coat and baring his arm.

The old soldier looked up through grateful tears.

"Next to the General, you're the best friend God
ever give me, boy !"

The General turned his face away and looked out of
the window. The doctors immediately performed the
operation, transfusing blood from Gaston into the

A Thousand-Legged Beast 379

child. The results did not seem to promise what they
had hoped. Her fever rose steadily. She became
conscious again and immediately went into the most
fearful convulsions, breaking the torn artery a second
time.

Just as the sun sank behind the blue mountain peaks
in the west her heart fluttered and she was dead.

Tom sat by the bed for two hours, looking, looking,
looking with wide, staring eyes at her white, dead face.
There was not the trace of a tear. His mouth was set
in a hard, cold way and he never moved or spoke.

The Preacher tried to comfort Tom, who stared at him
as though he did not recognise him at first, and then
slowly began:

"Go away, Preacher, I don't want to see or talk
to you now. It's all a swindle and a lie. There is
no God!"

"Tom! Tom!" groaned the Preacher.

"I tell you I mean it," he continued. "I don't want
any more of God or His heaven. I don't want to see
God. For if I should see Him, I'd shake my fist in His
face and ask Him where His almighty power was when
my poor little baby was screamin' for help while that
damned black beast was tearin' her to pieces ! Many
and many a time I've praised God when I read the
Bible there where it said, not a sparrow falleth to the
ground without His knowledge, and the very hairs of
our head are numbered. Well, where was He when my
little bird was nutterin' her broken, bleedin' wings in
the claws of that stinkin' baboon — damn him to ever-
lastin' hell ! — It's all a swindle, I tell you !"

The Preacher was watching him now with silent pity
and tenderness.

"What a lie it all is !" Tom repeated. "Scratch my
name off the church roll. I ain't got many more days

380 The Leopard's Spots

here, but I won't lie. I'm not a hypocrite. I'm going
to meet God cursin' Him to His face."

The Preacher slipped his arm around the old soldier's
neck, and smoothed the tangled hair back from his
forehead as he said, brokenly:

"Tom, I love you. My whole soul is melted in
sympathy and pity for you ! "

The stricken man looked up into the face of his
friend, saw his tears and felt the warmth of his love flood
his heart, and at last he burst into tears.

"Oh, Preacher, Preacher! you're a good friend, I
know; but I'm done. I can't live any more ! Every
minute, day and night, I'll hear them awful screams —
her a-callin' me for help. I can see her lym' out there
in the woods all night alone, moanin' and bleedin' !"

His breast heaved and he paused as if in reverie. And
then he sprang up, his face livid and convulsed with
volcanic passion, that half strangled him while he
shrieked :

1 ' Oh ! if I only had him here before me now, and
God Almighty would give me strength with these hands
to tear his breast open and rip his heart out ! I —
could — eat— it — like — a — wolf ! "

"When they reached the cemetery the next day and
the body was about to be lowered into the grave, Tom
suddenly spied old Uncle Reuben Worth leaning on his
spade by the edge of the crowd. Uncle Reuben was the
gravedigger of the town and the only Negro present.

"Wait ! " said Tom, raising his hand. " Don't put her
in that grave. A nigger dug it. I can't stand it." He
turned to a group of old soldier comrades standing by
and said:

"Boys, humour an old broken man once more. You'll
dig another grave for me, won't you? It won't take

A Thousand-Legged Beast 381

long. The folks can go home that don't want to stay.
I ain't got no home to go to now but this graveyard."

His comrades filled up the grave that Uncle Reuben
had dug and opened a new one on the other side of the
graves where slept his other loved ones.

Gaston took Tom to his home and stayed with him
several hours, trying to help him. He seemed to have
settled into a stupor from which nothing could rouse
him. When at length the old man fell asleep, Gaston
softly closed the door and returned to his office with a
heavy heart.

As he neared the center of the town he heard a
murmur like the distant moaning of the wind in the
hush that comes before a storm. It grew louder and
louder and became articulate with occasional words that
seemed far away and unreal. What could it be ? He
had never heard such a sound before. Now it became
clearer and the murmur was the tread of a thousand
feet and the clatter of horses' hoofs. Not a cry or a
shout or a word. Silence and hurrying feet.

Ah ! He knew now. It was the searchers returning, a
grim, swaying, voiceless mob with one black figure amid
them. They were swarming into the court-house
square under the big oak where an informal trial was
to be held.

He rushed forward to protest against a lynching. He
could just catch a glimpse of the Negro's head swaying
back and forth, protesting innocence in a singing
monotone as though he were already half dead.

He pushed his way roughly through the excited crowd
to the center, where Hose Norman, the leader, stood
w^',h one end of a rope in his hand and the other around
the Negro's neck.

The Negro turned his head quickly toward the move-
ment made by the crowd as Gaston pressed forward.

382 The Leopard's Spots

It was Dick.

Dick recognised him at the same moment, leaped
toward him and fell at his feet crying and pleading as
he held his feet and legs.

"Save me, Charlie! I nebber done it! I nebber
done it ! For God's sake help me ! Keep 'em off !
Dey gwine burn me erlive ! "

Gaston turned to the crowd. "Men, there's not one
among you that loved that old soldier and his girl as I
did. But you must not do this crime. If this Negro is
guilty, we can prove it in that court-house, and he will
pay the penalty with his life. Give him a fair trial "

"That's a lawyer talkin' now!" said a man in the
crowd. "We know that tune. The lawyers has things
their own way in a court-house." A murmur of assent
mingled with oaths ran through the crowd.

"Fair trial!" sneered Hose Norman, snatching Dick
from the ground by the rope. "Look at the black
devil's clothes splotched all over with her blood. We
found him under a shelvin' rock where he'd got by
wadin* up the branch a quarter of a mile to fool the dogs.
We found his track in the sand some places where he
missed the water, and tracked him clear from where we
found Flora to the cave he was lying in. Fair trial —
hell ! We're just waitin' for er can o' oil. You go
back and read your law books — we'll tend ter this devil."

The messenger came with the oil and the crowd
moved forward. Hose shouted: "Down by Tom
Camp's, by his spring; down the spring branch to the
Flat Rock where he killed her!"

On the crowd moved, swaying back and forth, with
Gaston in their midst by Dick's side begging for a fetr
trial for him. A crowd that hurries and does not shout
is a fearful thing. There is something inhuman in its
uncanny silence.

A Thousand-Legged Beast 383

Gaston's voice sounded strained and discordant.
They paid no more attention to his protest than to the
chirp of a cricket.

They reached the spot where the child's body had
been found. They tied the screaming, praying Negro
to a live pine and piled around his body a great heap of
dead wood and saturated it with oil. And then they
poured oil on his clothes.

Gaston looked around him, begging first one man then
another to help him fight the crowd and rescue him.
Not a hand was lifted or a voice raised in protest. There
was not a Negro among them. Not only was no Negro
in that crowd, but there was not a cabin in all that
county that would not have given shelter to the brute,
though they knew him guilty of the crime charged
against him. This was the one terrible fact that
paralysed Gaston's efforts.

Hose Norman stepped forward to apply a match and
Gaston grasped his arm.

"For God's sake, Hose, wait a minute!" he begged.
11 Don't disgrace our town, our county, our state and
our claims to humanity by this insane brutality. A
beast wouldn't do this. You wouldn't kill a mad dog
or a rattlesnake in such a way. If you will kill him,
shoot him or knock him in the head with a rock — don't
burn him alive !"

Hose glared at him and quietly remarked:

"Are you done now? If you are, stand out of the
way!"

He struck the match and Dick uttered a scream. As
Hose leaned forward with his match Gaston knocked
him down, and a dozen stalwart men were upon him in
a moment.

"Knock the fool in the head !" one shouted.

"Pin his arms behind him!" said another.

384 The Leopard's Spots

Some one quickly pinioned his arms with a cord. He
stood in helpless rage and pity, and as he saw the match
applied, bowed his head and burst into tears.

He looked up at the silent crowd, standing there like
voiceless ghosts, with renewed wonder.

Under the glare of the light and the tears the crowd
seemed to melt into a great crawling, swaying creature,
half reptile, half beast, half dragon, half man, with a
thousand legs, and a thousand eyes, and ten thousand
gleaming teeth, and with no ear to hear and no heart
to pity !

All they would grant him was the privilege of gathering
Dick's ashes and charred bones for burial.

•■'••'•• •

The morning following the lynching the Preacher
hurried to Tom Camp's to see how he was bearing the
strain.

His door was wide open, the bureau drawers pulled
out, ransacked, and some of their contents were lying
on the floor.

"Poor old fellow, I'm afraid he's gone crazy!"
exclaimed the Preacher. He hurried to the cemetery.
There he found Tom at the newly made grave. He had
worked through the night and dug the grave open with
his bare hands and pulled the coffin up out of the ground.
He had broken his finger nails all off trying to open it,
and his fingers were bleeding. At last he had given up
the effort to open the coffin, sat down beside it, and was
arranging her toys he had made for her beside the box.
He had brought a lot of her clothes, a pair of little
shoes and stockings, and a bonnet, and he had placed
these out carefully on top of the lid. He was talking
to her.

The Preacher lifted him gently and led him away, a
hopeless madman.

CHAPTER VI
THE BLACK PERIL

THE longer Gaston pondered over the tragic events
of that lynching the more sinister and terrible
became its meaning and the deeper he was
plunged in melancholy.

Beyond all doubt, within his own memory, since the
Negroes under Legree's lead had drawn the colour line
in politics, the races had been drifting steadily apart.
The gulf was now impassable.

Such crimes as Dick had committed, and for which
he had paid such an awful penalty, were unknown
absolutely under slavery, and were unknown for two
years after the war. Their first appearance was under
Legree's regime. Now, scarcely a day passed in the
South without the record of such an atrocity, swiftly
followed by a lynching, and lynching thus had become
the punishment for all grave crimes.

Since McLeod's triumph in the state such crimes had
increased with alarming rapidity. The encroachments
of Negroes upon public offices had been slow but resistless.
Now there were nine hundred and fifty Negro magistrates
in the state, elected for no reason except the colour of
their skin. Feeling themselves intrenched behind state
and Federal power, the insolence of a class of young
Negro men was becoming more and more intolerable.
What would happen to these fools when once they roused
that thousand-legged, thousand-eyed beast with its ten

385

386 The Leopard's Spots

thousand teeth and nails ! He had looked into its face,
and he shuddered to recall the hour.

He knew that this power of racial fury of the Anglo-
Saxon when aroused was resistless, and that it would
sweep its victims before its wrath like chaff before a
whirlwind.

And then he thought of the day fast coming when cul-
ture and wealth would give the African the courage of
conscious strength and he would answer that soul-
piercing shriek of his kindred for help, and that other
thousand-legged beast, now crouching in the
shadows, would meet thousand-legged beast around
that beacon fire of a Godless revenge !

More and more the impossible position of the Negro
in America came home to his mind. He was fast being
overwhelmed with the conviction that sooner or later we
must squarely face the fact that two such races, count-
ing millions in numbers, cannot live together under a
Democracy.

He recalled the fact that there were more Negroes in
the United States than inhabitants in Mexico, the
third republic of the world.

Amalgamation simply meant Africanisation. The big
nostrils, flat nose, massive jaw, protruding lip and kinky
hair will register their animal marks over the proudest
intellect and the rarest beauty of any other race. The
rule that had no exception was that one drop of Negro
blood makes a Negro.

What could be the outcome of it? What was his
duty as a citizen and a member of civilised society?
Since the scenes through which he had passed with Tom
Camp and that mob, the question was insistent and
personal. It clouded his soul and weighed on him
like the horrors of a nightmare.

Again and again the fateful words the Preacher had

The Black Peril 387

dinned into his ears since his early childhood pressed
upon him:

"You cannot build in a Democracy a nation inside
a nation of two antagonistic races. The future American
must be an Anglo-Saxon or a Mulatto."

His depression and brooding over the fearful events
in which he had so recently taken part had tinged his
life and all its hopes with sadness. He had reflected
this in his letters to Sallie Worth without even mention-
ing the events. His heart was full of sickening fore-
boding. How could one love and be happy in a world
haunted by sucj. horrors ! He had begged her to hasten
her hour of final decision. He told her of his sense of
loneliness and isolation, and of his inexpressible need
of her love and presence in his daily life.

Her answer had only intensified his moody feelings.
She had written that her love grew stronger every day
and his love more and more became necessary to her life,
and yet she could not cloud its future with the anger of
her father and the broken heart of her mother by an
elopement. She feared such a shock would be fatal and
all her life would be embittered by it. They must wait.
She was using all her skill to win her father, but as yet
without success. But she determined to win him, and it
would be so.

All this seemed far away and shadowy to Gaston's
eager, restless soul.

The letter had closed by saying she was preparing for
another trip to Boston to visit Helen Lowell and that
she should be absent at least a month. She asked that
his next letter be addressed to Boston.

Somehow Boston seemed just then out of the world on
another planet ; it was so far away, and its people and
their life so unreal to his imagination,

But he sighed and turned resolutely to his work 0/

388

The Leopard's Spots

preparation for an event in his life which he 4">ieant to
make great in the history of the state. It was the meet-
ing of the Democratic convention, as yet nearly two
years in the future. He held a subordinate position in
his party's councils, but defeat and ruin had taken the
conceit out of the old-line leaders and he knew that his
day was drawing near.

"I'll take my place among the leaders and masters of
men," he told himself, with quiet determination; "I will
compel the General's respect; and if I cannot win hi?
consent, I will take her without it."

CHAPTER VII
EQUALITY WITH A RESERVATION

THE lynching at Hambright had stirred the whole
nation into unusual indignant interest. It hap-
pened to be the climax of a series of such crimes
committed in the South in rapid succession, and the
death of this Negro was reported with more than usual
vividness by a young newspaper man of genius.

A grand mass meeting was called in Cooper Union,
New York, at which were gathered delegates from
different cities and states to give emphasis and unity
to the movement and issue an appeal to the national
government.

When Sallie Worth reached Boston she found Helen
Lowell at home alone. The Honourable Everett Lowell
had made one of the speeches of his career at the mass
meeting held in Faneuil Hall, and he was in New York,
where he had gone to make the principal address in the
Cooper Union Convention of Negro sympathisers.

George Harris had accompanied him, supremely fas-
cinated by the eloquent and masterful appeal for human
brotherhood he had heard him make in Boston. There
was something pathetic in the doglike worship this
young Negro gave to his brilliant patron. In his life in
New England he had been shocked more than once by
the brutal prejudices of the people against his race. His
soul had been tried to the last of its powers of endurance
at times. He found to his amazement that, when put to
the test, the masses of the North had even deeper repug-

389

39° The Leopard's Spots

nance to the person of a Negro than the Southerners who
grew up with him from the cradle. He had found him-
self cut off from every honourable way of earning his
bread, gentleman and scholar though he was, and had
looked into the river as he walked over the bridge to
Cambridge one night with a well-nigh resistless impulse
to end it all.

But Lowell had cheered him, laughed his gloomy ideas
to scorn, and, more practical still, had secured him a
clerkship in the Custom-House, which settled the problem
of bread. Others had failed him, but this man of trained
powers had never failed him. He had taught him to lift
up his head and look the world squarely in the face.
Lowell was, to his vivid African imagination, the ideal
man made in the image of God, calm in judgment, free
from all superstitions and prejudices, a citizen of the
world of human thought, a prince of that vast ethical
aristocracy of the free thinkers of all ages who knew no
racial or conventional barriers between man and man.

Harris had published a volume of poems which he had
dedicated to Lowell, and his most inspiring verse was
simply the outpouring of his soul in worship of this
ideal man.

He was his devoted worshiper for another and more
powerful reason. In his daily intercourse with him in
his library during his campaigns he had frequently met
his beautiful daughter and had fallen deeply and madly
in love with her. This secret passion he had kept hidden
in his sensitive souh He had worshiped her from afar
as though she had been a white-robed angel. To see her
and be in the same house with her was all he asked. Now
and then he had stood beside the piano and turned the
music while she played and sang one of his new pieces,
and he would live on that scene for months, eating his
heart out with voiceless yearnings he dared not express.

Equality with a Reservation 391

In his music he made his greatest success. There was
a fiery sweep to his passion and a deep Oriental rhythm
in his cadence that held the imagination of his hearers in
a spell. It is needless to say it was in this music he
breathed his secret love.

At first he had not dared to hope for the day when he
could declare this secret or take his place in the list of her
admirers and fight for his chance. But of late a great
hope had filled his soul and illumined the world. As
he listened to Lowell's impassioned appeals for human
brotherhood, his scathing ridicule of pride and prejudice,
and the poetic beauty of the language in which he pro-
claimed his own emancipation from all the laws of caste,
the fiery eloquence with which he trampled upon all the
barriers man had erected against his fellow man, his soul
was thrilled into ecstasy with the conviction that this
scholar and scientific thinker, at least, was a free man.
He was sure that he had risen above the limitations of
provincialisms, racial or national prejudices.

He had begun to dream of the day he would ask this
godlike man for the privilege of addressing his daughter.

The great meeting at Cooper Union had brought this
dream to a sudden resolution. Lowell had outdone him-
self that night. With merciless invective he had de-
nounced the inhuman barbarism of the South in these
lynchings. The sea of eager faces had answered his
appeals as water the breath of a storm. He felt its
mighty reflex influence sweep back on his soul and lift
him to greater heights. He demanded equality of
man on every inch of this earth's soil.

" I demand this perfect equality," he cried, "absolutely
without reservation or subterfuge, both in form and
essential reality. It is the life-blood of Democracy. It is
the reason of our existence. Without this we are a living
lie, a stench in the nostrils of God and humanity ! "

3 9 2 The Leopard's Spots

A cheer from a thousand Negro throats rent the air as
lie thus closed. The crowd surged over the platform and
for ten minutes it was impossible to restore order or
continue the programme. Young Harris pressed his
patron's hand and kissed it while tears of pride and
gratitude rained down his face.

This speech made a national sensation. It was printed
in full in all the partisan papers, where it was hoped
capital might be made of it for the next political
campaign, and the National Campaign Committee,
of which he was a member, ordered a million copies of
it printed for distribution among the Negroes.

When Lowell and Harris reached Boston, as they
parted at the depot Harris said:

"Will you be at home to-morrow, Mr. Lowell? "

"Yes. Why?"

"I would like a talk with you in the morning on
a matter of great importance. May I call at nine
o'clock?"

"Certainly. Come right into the library. You'll find
me there, George."

That night as Lowell walked through his brilliantly
lighted home he felt a sense of glowing pride and
strength. With his hands behind him he paced back and
forth in his great library and out through the spacious
hall with firm tread and flushed face. He felt he could
look these great ancestors in the face to-night as they
gazed down on him from their heavy gold frames. They
had called him to high ambitions and a strenuous life
when his indolence had pleaded for ease and the
dilettanteism of a fruitless dreaming. His father had
cultivated his artistic tastes, dreamed and done nothing.
But these grim-visaged, eagle-eyed ancestors had called
him to a life of realities, and he had heard their voices.

Yes, to-night his name was on a million lips. Th^

Equality with a Reservation 393

door of the United States Senate was opening at his
touch and mightier possibilities loomed in the future.

He felt a sense of gratitude for the heritage of that
stately old home and its inspiring memories. Its roots
struck down into the soil of a thousand years, and
spread beneath the ocean to that greater Old World life.
He felt his heart beat with pride that he was adding new
honours to that family history, and adding to the soul-
treasures his daughter's children would inherit.

Seated in the library next morning Harris was nervous
and embarrassed. He made two or three attempts to
begin the subject, but turned aside with some unimpor-
tant remark.

"Well, George, what is the problem that makes you
so grave this morning? " asked Lowell, with kindly
patronage.

Harris felt that his hour had come and he must
face it. He leaned forward in his chair and looked
steadily down at the rug, while he clasped both his hands
firmly across his lap and spoke with great rapidity.

"Mr. Lowell, I wish to say to you that you have
taught me the greatest faith of life — faith in my fellow
man without which there can be no faith in God. What
I have suffered as a man as I have come in contact with
the brutality with which my race is almcst universally
treated God only can ever know.

"The culture I have received has simply multiplied a
thousandfold my capacity to suffer. But for the inspira-
tion of your manhood I would have ended my life in the
river. In you I saw a great light. I saw a man really
made in the image of God with mind and soul trained,
with head erect, scorning the weak prejudices of caste,
which dare to call the image of God clean or unclean in
passion or pride.

" I lifted up my head and said: One such man redeems

394 The Leopard's Spots

a world from infamy. It's worth while to live in a world
honoured by one such man, for he is the prophecy of more
to come."

He paused a moment, fidgeted with a piece of paper
he had picked up from the table, and seemed at a loss
for a word.

It never dawned on Lowell what he was driving at.
He supposed, as a matter of course, he was referring to
his great speeches and was going to ask for some promo-
tion in a governmental department at Washington.

"I'm proud to have been such an inspiration to you,
George. You know how much I think of you. What is
on your mind? " he asked, at length.

"I have hidden it from every human eye, sir; I am
afraid to breathe it aloud alone. I have only tried to
sing it in song in an impersonal way. Your wonderful
words of late have emboldened me to speak. It is this
— I am madly, desperately in love with your daughter."

Lowell sprang to his feet as though a bolt of lightning
had suddenly shot down his backbone. He glared at the
Negro with widely dilated eyes and heaving breath as
though he had been transformed into a leopard and was
about to spring at his throat.

Before answering, and with a gesture commanding
silence, he walked rapidly to the library door and
closed it.

"And I have come to ask you," continued Harris,
ignoring his gesture, "if I may pay my addresses to her
with your consent."

"Harris, this is crazy nonsense. Such an idea is
preposterous. I am amazed that it should ever have
entered your head. Let this be the end of it here and
now, if you have any desire to retain my friendship."

Lowell said this with a scowl and an emphasis of
indignant, rising inflection. The Negro seemed stunned

Equality with a Reservation 395

by this swift blow in his very teeth, that seemed to
place him outside the pale of a human being.

"Why is such a hope unreasonable, sir, to a man of
your scientific mind?"

"It is a question of taste," snapped Lowell.

"Am I not a graduate of the same university with you ?
Did I not stand as high, and, age for age, am I not
your equal in culture? "

"Granted. Nevertheless, you are a Negro, and I do
not desire the infusion of your blood in my family."

"But I have more of white than Negro blood, sir."

"So much the worse. It is the mark of shame."

" But it is the one drop of Negro blood at which your
taste revolts, is it not ? "

"To be frank, it is."

"Why is it an unpardonable sin in me that my
ancestors were born under tropic skies where skin
and hair were tanned and curled to suit the sun's
fierce rays?"

"All tropic races are not Negroes, and your race has
characteristics apart from accidents of climate that make
it unique in the annals of man," rejoined Lowell.

"And yet you demand perfect equality of man with
man, absolutely in form and substance without reserva-
tion or subterfuge ! "

"Yes; political equality."

"Politics is but a secondary phenomenon of society.
You said absolute equality," protested Harris.

"The question you broach is a question of taste, and
the deeper social instincts of racial purity and self-
preservation. I care not what your culture or your
genius or your position, I do not desire, and will not
permit, a mixture of Negro blood in my family. The
idea is nauseating, and to my daughter it would be
repulsive beyond the power of words to express it ! "

396 The Leopard's Spots

" And yet," pleaded Harris, "you invited me to your
home, introduced me to your daughter, seated me at
your table and used me in your appeal to your constitu-
ents, and now, when I dare ask the privilege of seeking
her hand in honourable marriage, you, the scholar,
patriot, statesman and philosopher of Equality and
Democracy, slam the door in my face and tell me that
I am a Negro ! Is this fair or manly ? "

"I fail to see its unfairness."

"It is amazing. You are a master of history and
sociology. You know as clearly as I do that social
intercourse is the only possible pathway to love. And
you opened it to me with your own hand. Could I control
the beat of my heart ? There are some powers within us
that are involuntary. You could have prevented my
meeting your daughter as an equal. But all the will
power of earth could not prevent my loving her when
once I had seen her and spoken to her. The sound
of the human voice, the touch of the human hand in
social equality are the divine sacraments that open
the mystery of love."

"Social rights are one thing, political rights another,"
interrupted Lowell.

" I deny it. If you are honest with yourself, you know
It is not true. Politics is but a manifestation of society.
Society rests on the family. The family is the unit of
civilisation. The right to love and wed where one loves
is the badge of fellowship in the order of humanity. The
man who is denied this right in any society is not a
member of it. He is outside of any manifestation of its
essential life. You had as well talk about the importance
of clothes for a dead man as political rights for such
a pariah. You have classed him with the beasts of
the field. As a human unit he does not exist for you."

" Harris, it is utterly useless to argue a point like this,"

Equality with a Reservation 397

Lowell interupted, coldly. "This must be the end of our
acquaintance. You must not enter my house again."

"My God, you can't kick me out of your home like
this when you brought me to it, and made it an issue of
life or death!"

"I tell you again you are crazy. I have brought you
here against her wishes. She left the house with her
friend this morning to avoid seeing you. Your presence
has always been repulsive to her, and with me it has been '
a political study, not a social pleasure."

"I beg for only a desperate chance to overcome this
feeling. Surely a man of your profound learning and
genius cannot sympathise with such prejudices ? Let me
try — let her decide the issue."

"1 decline to discuss the question any further."

"I can't give up without a struggle ! " the Negro cried,
with desperation.

Lowell arose with a gesture of impatience.

" Now you are getting to be simply a nuisance. To be
perfectly plain with you, I haven't the slightest desire
that my family, with its proud record of a thousand years
of history and achievement, shall end in this stately old
house in a brood of mulatto brats ! "

Harris winced and sprang to his feet, trembling with
passion. " I see," he sneered ; "the soul of Simon Legree
has at last become the soul of the nation. The South
expresses the same luminous truth with a little more
clumsy brutality. But their way is after all more
merciful. The human body becomes unconscious at the
touch of an oil-fled flame in sixty seconds. Your methods
are more refined and more hellish in cruelty. You
have trained my ears to hear, eyes to see, hands to touch
and heart to feel, that you might torture with the denial
of every cry of body and soul and roast me in the flames
of impossible desires for time and eternity ! "

398 The Leopard's Spots

"That will do now. There's the door!" thundered
Lowell, with a gesture of stern emphasis. "I happen to
know the important fact that a man or woman of Negro
ancestry, though a century removed, will suddenly breed
back to a pure Negro child, thick-lipped, kinky-headed,
flat-nosed, black-skinned. One drop of your blood in my
family could push it backward three thousand years in
history. If you were able to win her consent, a thing
unthinkable, I would do what old Virginius did in the
Roman Forum — kill her with my own hand, rather than
see her sink in your arms into the black waters of a
Negroid life ! Now go ! "

CHAPTER VIII
THE NEW SIMON LEGREE

HARRIS immediately resigned his office in the
Custom-House which he owed to Lowell and
began a search for employment.

' ' I will not be a pensioner of a government of hypo-
crites and liars," he exclaimed, as he sealed his letter of
resignation.

And then began his weary tramp in search of work.
Day after day, week after week, he got the same answer
— an emphatic refusal. The only thing open to a Negro
was a position as porter, or bootblack, or waiter in second-
rate hotels and restaurants, or in domestic service as
coachman, butler or footman. He was no more fitted for
these places than he was to live with his head under
water.

"I will blow my brains out before I will prostitute
my intellect and my consciousness of free manhood by
such degrading associates and such menial service ! " he
declared, with sullen fury.

At last he determined to lay aside his pride and educa-
tion and learn a manual trade. Not a labour-union
would allow him to enter its ranks.

He managed to earn a few dollars at odd jobs and
went to New York. Here he was treated with greater
brutality than in- Boston. At last he got a position
in a big clothing factory. He was so bright in colour
that the manager never suspected that he was a Negro,

399

400 The Leopard's Spots

as he was accustomed to employing swarthy Jews from
Poland and Russia.

When Harris entered the factory the employees discov-
ered within an hour his race, laid down their work, and
walked out on a strike until he was removed.

He again tried to break into a labour-union and get
the protection of its constitution and laws. He man-
aged at last to make the acquaintance of a labour leader
who had been a Quaker preacher, and was elated to
discover that his name was Hugh Halliday, and that he
was a son of one of the Hallidays who had assisted in the
rescue of his mother and father from slavery. He told
Halliday his history and begged his intercession with
the labour-union.

" I'll try for you, Harris," he said, "but it's a doubtful
experiment. The men fear the Negro as a pestilence."

"Do the best you can for me. I must have bread. I
only ask a man's chance," answered Harris. Halliday
proposed his name and backed it up with a strong per-
sonal indorsement, gave a brief sketch of his culture and
accomplishments, and asked that he be allowed to learn
the bricklayer's trade.

When his name came up before the Bricklayers'
Union, and it was announced that he was a Negro, it
precipitated a debate of such fury that it threatened to
develop into a riot.

One of the men sprang toward the presiding officer
with blazing eyes, gesticulating wildly until recognised.

"I have this to say," he shouted. "No negro shall
ever enter the door of this Union except over my dead
body. The Negro can under-live us. We cannot com-
pete with him, and as a race we cannot organise him.
Let him stay in the South. We have no room for him
here, and we will kill him if he tries to take our bread
from us."

The New Simon Legree 401

"Have you no sympathy for his age-long sufferings
in slavery? " interrupted Halliday.

"Slavery ! Of all the delusions, the idea that slavery
was abolished in this country in 1865 is the silliest.
Slavery was never firmly established until the chattel
form was abandoned for the wage system in 1865.
Chattel slavery was too expensive. The wage system
is cheaper. Now they never have to worry about food,
or clothes, or houses, or the children, or the aged and
infirm among wage slaves.

"Once the master hunted the slave — now the slave
must hunt the master, beg for the privilege of serving
him, and trample others to death trying to fasten the
chains on when a brother slave drops dead in his tracks.

"No, I don't shed any crocodile tears over the Negro
slavery of the South. It was a mild form of servitude
in which the Negro had plenty to eat and wear, never
suffered from cold, slept soundly, and reared his children
in droves with never a thought for the morrow.

"Then mothers and babes were sometimes, though not
often, separated by an executor's or sheriff's sale. Now
we know better than to allow babes to be born. Then, a
babe was a valuable asset and received the utmost care.
Now, we have baby farms which we fertilise with their
bones. I know of one old hag in this envy who has killed
more than two thousand babes.

"What chance has your girl or mine to marry and
build a home ? Not one in a hundred will ever feel the
breath of a babe at her breast.

"No!" he closed, in thunder tones. "I'll fight the
encroachment of the Negro on our life with every power
of body and soul ! "

A hundred men leaped to their feet at once, shouting
and gesticulating. The chairman recognised a tall, dark
man with a Russian face, but who spoke perfect English.*

402 The Leopard's Spots

"I, gentlemen, am an Anarchist in principle, and differ
slightly in the process by which I come to the same con-
clusion as my friend who has taken his seat. I grieve at
the necessity before the working-men of returning to
slavery. All we can hope now for a century or two
centuries is socialism. Socialism is simply a system of
slavery — that is, enforced labour in which a Bureaucracy
is master. We must enter again a condition of involun-
tary servitude for the guarantee by the State of food and
clothes, shelter and children.

" It is no time to weep over slavery. The one thing we
demand now is the nationalisation of industries under the
control of State Bureaus which will enforce labour from
every citizen according to his capacity, for the simple
guarantee of what the Negro slave received, the satisfac-
tion of two elemental passions, hunger and love."

Again a clamour broke out that drowned the speaker's
voice. A Socialist and an Anarchist clenched in a fight,
and for five minutes pandemonium reigned, but at the
end of it Harris was lying on the sidewalk with a gash in
his head, and Halliday was bending over him.

When Harris had recovered from his wound, Halliday
took him on a round of visits to big mills in a populous
manufacturing city across in New Jersey.

"These mills are all owned by Simon Legree," he in-
formed Harris, "and the unions have been crushed out of
them by methods of which he is past master. I don't
know, but it may be possible to get you in there."

They tried a half-dozen mills in vain, and at last they
met a foreman who knew Halliday who consented to
hear his plea.

"You are fooling away your time and this man's time,
Halliday," he told him in a friendly way. "I'd cut my
right arm off sooner than take a Negro in these mills and
precipitate a strike."

The New Simon Legree 403

"But would a strike occur with no union organisa-
tion existing?"

"Yes, in a minute. You know Simon Legree, who
owns these mills. If a disturbance occurred here now the
old devil wouldn't hesitate to close every mill next day
and beggar fifty thousand people."

Why would he do such a stupid thing ? ' '

"Just to show the brute power of his fifty millions of
dollars over the human body. The awful power in that
brute's hands, represented in that money, is something
appalling. Before the war he cracked a blacksnake whip
over the backs of a handful of Negroes. Now look at
him, in his black silk hat and faultless dress. With his
millions he can commit any and every crime from theft
to murder with impunity. His power is greater than a
monarch. He controls fleets of ships, mines and mills,
and has under his employ many thousands of men.
Their families and associates make a vast population.
He buys Judges, Juries, Legislatures and Governors,
and with one stroke of his pen to-day can beggar thou-
sands of people. He can equip an army of hirelings,
make peace or war on his own account, or force the
governments to do it for him. He has neither faith in
God nor fear of the devil. He regards all men as his
enemies and all women his game.

"They say he used to haunt the New Orleans slave
market, when he was young and owned his Red River
farm, occasionally spending his last dollar to buy a hand-
some Negro girl who took his fancy.

"Look at him now with his bloated face, beastly jaw
and coarse lips. He walks the streets with his lecherous
eyes twinkling like a snake's, and saliva trickling from the
corners of his mouth, practically monarch of all he sur-
veys. He selects his victims at his own sweet will, and
with his army of hirelings to do his bidding, backed by

404 The Leopard's Spots

his millions, he lives a charmed life in a round of
daily crime.

1 ' How many lives he has blasted among the popula-
tion of the multitude of souls dependent on him for
bread, God only knows. It is said he has murdered the
souls of many innocent girls in these mills "

"Surely that is an exaggeration," broke in Halliday.

"On the other hand, I believe the picture is far too
mild. I tell you no human mind can conceive the awful
brute power over the human body his millions hold under
our present conditions of life."

Th *re was a tinge of deep, personal bitterness in the
man's words that held Halliday in a spell while he
continued :

"Under our present conditions men and women must
fight one another like beasts for food and shelter. The
wildest dreams cf lust and cruelty under the old sys-
tem of Southern slavery would be laughed at by this
modern master."

He paused a moment in painful reverie.

1 ' There lies his big yacht in the harbour now. She is
just in from a cruise in the Orient. She cost half a
million dollars, and carries a crew of fifty men. With
them are beautiful girls hired at fancy wages, connected
with the stewardess' department. She ships a new
crew every trip. Not one of those young faces is ever
lifted again among their friends."

He paused again and a tear coursed down his face.

"I confess I am bitter. I loved one of those girls
once when I was younger. She was a mere child of
seventeen." His voice broke. "Yes, she came back
shattered in health and ruined. I am supporting her
now at a quiet country place. She is dying.

"Think of the farce of it all!" he continued, pas-
sionately. "The picture of that brute with a whip in

The New Simon Legree 405

hi& hand beating a Negro caused the most terrible war
in the history of the world. Three millions of men flew
at each other's throats and for four years fought like
demons. A million men and six billions of dollars'
worth of property were destroyed.

"He was a poor, harmless fool there, beating his own
faithful slave to death. Compare that Legree with the
one of to-day, and you compare a mere stupid man with
a prince of hell. But does this fiend excite the wrath
of the righteous? Far from it. His very name is
whispered in admiring awe by millions. He boasts that
dozens of proud mothers strip their daughters to the
limit the police law will allow at every social function he
honours with his presence, and offer to sell him their
own flesh and blood for the paltry consideration of a
life interest in one-third of his estate. And he laughs at
them all. His name is magic.

"I know of one weak fool, a petty millionaire, whom
Legree lured into a speculative trap and ruined. On
his knees in his Fifth Avenue palace the whining coward
kissed Legree 's feet and begged for mercy. He kicked
him and sneered at his misery. At last, when he had
tortured him to the verge of madness, he offered to
spare him on one condition — that he should give
him his daughter as a ransom. And he did it.

"No, the brute power of such a man to-day is beyond
the grasp of the human mind. His chances for debauch-
ery and cruelty are limitless. The brains of his hirelings
are put to the test to invent new crimes against nature to
interest his appetites. The only limit to his power of
evil is the capacity of the human mind to think and his
body to act and endure. When he is exhausted, he
can command the knowledge and the skill of ages and
the masters of all science to restore his strength, while
satellites lick his feet and sing his praises.

406 The Leopard's Spots

" Risk the whim of such a man with the lives of these
poor people dependent on me? No, I'd sooner kill that
Xegro you have brought here and take my chances of
detection."

Halliday gave up the task, returned to New York,
and sought the aid of the greatest labour leader in
America, who had arrived in the city from the West the
day before.

"No, Halliday," he said, emphatically. "Send your
Negro back down South. We don't want any more of
them, or to come in contact with them. I have just
come from the West, where a desperate strike was in
progress in one of Legree's mines. Our men were
toiling in the depth of the earth in midnight darkness,
never seeing the light of day, for just enough to keep
body and soul together. They tried to wring one little
concession from their absent master, who had never
condescended to honour them with his presence. What
did he do ? Shut down his mines and brought up from
the South a herd of Negroes, who came crowding to the
mines to push our men back into hell. We begged them
to go home and let us alone. They grinned, shuffled,
and looked at their white driver for the signal to go to
work. I ordered the men to shoot them down like
dogs. We made the Governor issue a proclamation
driving them back South and warning their race that
if they attempted to enter the borders of the State he
would meet them with Gatling guns.

"No; send your friend South. The winters up here
are too cold for him and the summers too hot."

In the meantime, Harris walked the streets with a
storm of furious passion raging in his soul. He was
the son of Eliza Harris, who had fled from the kindliest
form of slavery in Kentucky. He had a trained mind,
and the brightest gift of musical genius. Yet he stood

The New Simon Legree 407

that day at the door of Simon Legree and begged in vain
for the privilege of serving in the meanest capacity as his
slave. What a strange circle of time, those forty years
of the past !

And then the tempter whispered the right word at the
right moment, and his fate was sealed.

" There's but one thing left for me to do. I will
do it!" he exclaimed.

He entered the employ of a gambling joint and
deliberately began a life of crime. After a month he
won five hundred dollars, and went on a strange journey,
visiting the scenes in Colorado, Kansas, Indiana and
Ohio, where Negroes had recently been burned alive.
He would find the ash-heap and place on it a wreath of
costly flowers. He lingered thoughtfully over the ash-
piles he found in Kansas made from the flesh of living
Negroes. He tried to imagine the figure of John Brown
marching by his side, but instead he felt the grip of
Simon Legree 's hand on his throat, living, militant,
omnipotent. His soul had conquered the world. Yet
even Legree had never dared to burn a Negro to death
in the old days of slavery.

He found one of these ash-heaps at the foot of the
monument in Indiana to the great Western colleague of
Thaddeus Stevens, and with a sigh placed his wreath on
it, and passed on into Ohio.

He went to the spot where his mother had climbed up
the banks of the Ohio River into the promised land of
liberty, and followed the track of the old Underground
Railroad for fugitive slaves a few miles. He came to a
village which was once a station of this system. Here,
strangest of all, he found one of these ash-heaps in the
public square.

CHAPTER IX

THE NEW AMERICA

ANOTHER year of struggle and suffering, hope
and fear, Gaston had passed, and still he was no
nearer the dream of realised love. If anything
had changed, the General's pride had added new force to
his determination that his daughter should not marry
the man who had defied him.

His chief reliance for Gaston's defeat was on time
and the broadening of Sallie's mind by extended travel.
He had sent her abroad twice, and this year he sent her
to pend another three months in Europe.

These absences seemed only to intensify her longing
for her lover. On her return the General would burst
into a storm of rage at her persistence. She had ceased
to give him any bitter answers, only smiling quietly and
maintaining an ominous silence.

He had a new cause now of dislike for the man of her
choice. Gaston had become a man of acknowledged
power in politics and was the leader of a group of radical
young men who demanded the complete reorganisation
of the Democratic party, the shelving of the old-timers,
among whom he was numbered, and the announcement
of a radical programme upon the Negro issue.

Radicalism of any sort he had always hated. Now,
as advanced by this young upstart, it was doubly
odious. The General had never given much time to his
political duties, but his name was a power, and he gave
regularly to the campaign committee the largest cash
contribution they received.

408

The New America 409

He tried in a clumsy way to put Gaston off the State
Executive Committee, but failed. He saw Gaston
quietly laughing at him. Then he opened his pocket-
book and worked up a machine. It was a formidable
power, and Gaston feared its influence in the coming
convention.

While this fight was in progress, and Sallie was in
Europe, the destruction of the Maine in Havana Harbour
stilled the world into silence with the echo of its sullen
roar. There was a moment's pause, and the nation
lifted its great silk battle-flags from the Capitol at
Washington, and called for volunteers to wipe the
empire of Spain from the map of the Western world.

The war lasted but a hundred days, but in those
hundred days was packed the harvest of centuries.

War is always the crisis that flashes the searchlight
into the souls of men and nations, revealing their
unknown strength and weakness, and the changes that
have been silently wrought in the years of peace.

In these hundred days, statesmen who were giants
suddenly shrivelled into pygmies and disappeared from
the nation's life. Young men whose names were
unknown became leaders of the republic and won
immortal fame.

We were afr°"d that our nation still lacked unity.
The world said we were a mob of money-grubbers, and
had lost our grasp of principle. The President called
for 125,000 men to die for their flag, and next morning
800,000 were struggling for place in the line.

We feared that religion might threaten the future with
its bitter feud between the Roman Catholic and Protes-
tant in a great crisis. We saw cur Catholic regiments
march forth to that war with screaming fife and throb-
bing drum, and the flag of our country above them,
going forth to fight an army that had been blessed by

410 The Leopard's Spots

the Pope of Rome. The flag had become the common
symbol of eternal justice, and the nation the organ
through which all creeds and cults sought for right-
eousness.

We feared the gulf between the rich and the poor had
become impassable, and we saw the millionaire's son take
his place in the ranks with the working-man. The first
soldier wearing our uniform who fell before Santiago
with a Spanish bullet in his breast was an only son
from a palatial home in New York, and by his side lay
a cowboy from the West and a plowboy from the South.
Once more we showed the world that classes and clothes
are but thin disguises that hide the eternal childhood
of the soul.

Sectionalism and disunity had been the most terrible
realities in our national history. Our fathers had a
poet leader whose soul dreamed a beautiful dream called
E Pluribus Unum. But it had remained a dream. New
England had threatened secession years before South
Carolina in blind rage led the way. The Union was
saved by a sacrifice of blood that appalled the world.
And still millions feared the South might be false to
her plighted honour at Appomattox. The ghost of
Secession made and unmade the men and measures of
a generation.

Then came the trumpet call that put the South to
the test of fire and blood. The world waked next
morning to find for the first time in our history the
dream of union a living fact. There was no North,
no South — but from the James to the Rio Grande the
children of the Confederacy rushed with eager, flushed
faces to defend the flag their fathers had once fought.

And God reserved in this hour for the South, land of
ashes and tombs and tears, the pain and the glory of the
first offering of life on the altar of the new nation. Our

The New America 411

first and only officer who fell dead on the deck of a war-
ship, with the flag above him, was Worth Bagley, of
North Carolina, the son of a Confederate soldier. The
gallant youngster who stood on the bridge of the
Merrimac, and between two towering mountains of
flaming cannon, in the darkness of night blew up his
ship and set a new standard of Anglo-Saxon daring,
was the son of a Confederate soldier of North Carolina.

The town of Hambright furnished a whole company
of eighty-six men, a Captain, three Lieutenants, and a
Major, who saw service in the war.

When they were drawn up in the court-house square
under the old oak, the Preacher stood before them and
called the roll from four browned parchments. They
were Campbell County Confederate rosters. Every one
of the eighty-six men was a child of the Confederacy.
And the immortal Company F, that was wiped out of
existence at the battle of Gettysburg, furnished more
than half these children.

"Ah, boys, blood will tell!" cried the Preacher,
shaking hands with each man as they left.

A single round from the guns, and it was over. The
yellow flag of Spain, lit with the sunset splendour of a
world empire, faded from the sky of the West.

A new naval power had risen to disturb the dreams of
statesmen. The Oregon, that fierce leviathan of ham-
mered steel, had made her mark upon the globe. In a
long black trail of smoke and ribbon of foam she had
circled the earth without a pause for breath. The
thunder of her lips of steel over the shattered hulks of a
European navy proclaimed the advent of a giant
democracy that struck terror to the hearts of titled
snobs.

He who dreamed this monster of steel, felt her heart
beat, saw her rush through foaming seas to victory,

412 The Leopard's Spots

before the pick of a miner had struck the ore for her
ribs from a mountainside, was a child of the Confed-
eracy— that Confederacy whose desperate genius had
sent the Alabama spinning round the globe in a
whirlwind of fire.

America, united at last and invincible, waked to the
consciousness of her resistless power.

And, most marvellous of all, this hundred days of war
had reunited the Anglo-Saxon race. This sudden union
of the English-speaking people in friendly alliance
disturbed the equilibrium of the world, and con-
firmed the Anglo-Saxon in his title to the primacy of
racial sway.

CHAPTER X
ANOTHER DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

LMOST every problem of national life had been
illumined and made more hopeful by teh
searchlight of war save one — the irrepressible
conflict between the African and the Anglo-Saxon in the
development of our civilisation. The glare of war only
made the blackness of this question the more apparent.

While the well-drilled Negro regulars, led by white
officers, acquitted themselves with honour at Santiago,
the Negro volunteers were the source of riot and disorder
wherever they appeared. From the first, it was seen by
thoughtful men that the Negro was an impossibility in
the new-born unity of national life. When the Anglo-
Saxon race was united into one homogeneous mass in
the fire of this crisis, the Negro ceased that moment to
be a ward of the nation.

A Negro regiment had been in camp at Independence
during the war and was still there awaiting orders to be
mustered out. Its presence had inflamed the passions
of both races to the danger-point of riot again and again.
The Negro who was editing their paper at Independence
had gone to the length of the utmost license in seeking
to influence race antagonism.

When the regiment of which the Hambright company
was a member was mustered out at Independence,
Gaston was invited to deliver the address of welcome
home to the soldiers, and a crowd of five thousand
people were present, one-half of whom were Negroes.

413

414 The Leopard's Spots

While Gaston was speaking in the square, a Negro
trooper passing along the street refused to give an inch
of the sidewalk to a young lady and her escort who met
him. He ran into the girl, jostling her roughly, and the
young white man knocked him down instantly and
beat him to death. The wildest passions of the Negro
regiment were roused. McLeod was among them that
day, seeking to increase his popularity and influence in
the coming election, and he at once denounced Gaston as
the cause of the assault, and urged the leaders in secret
to retaliate by putting a bullet through his heart.

The white regiment had been mustered out, and their
guns in most cases had been retained by the men. The
Negro troops were to be mustered out the next day.

Late in the afternoon Gaston had received informa-
tion that a plot was on foot to kill him that night, when
a Negro mob would batter down his door on the pretense
of searching for the man who had assaulted the trooper.
The Colonel of the regiment just disbanded heard it, and
that night his men bivouacked in the yard of the hotel,
and slept on their guns.

A little after twelve o'clock a mob of five hundred
Negroes attempted to force their way into the hotel.
They met a regiment of bayonets, broke, and fled in
wild confusion.

This event was the last straw that broke the camel's
back. In the morning paper a blazing notice in display
capitals covered the first page, calling a mass meeting
of white citizens at noon in Independence Hall.

The little city of independence was one of the oldest
in the nation. It boasted the first declaration of
independence from Great Britain, antedating a year the
Philadelphia document. The people had never rested
tamely under tyranny nor accepted insult.

The McLeod Negro-Farmer Legislature had remodeled

Another Declaration of Independence 415

the ancient charter of the city, and under the new
instrument a combination of Negroes and criminal whites
had taken possession of every office.

One-half of these office-holders were incompetent and
insolent Negroes. The Chief of Police was an ignoramus
in league with criminals, and their Mayor, a white
demagogue elected by pandering to the lowest passions
of a Negro constituency.

Burglary and highway robbery were almost daily
occurrences. The two largest stores in the city and four
residences had been burned within a month. Appeal to
the police became a farce, and it was necessary to hire
and arm a force of private guards to patrol the city at
night. When arrests were made the servile authorities
promptly released the criminals. Negro insolence
reached a height that made it impossible for ladies to
walk the streets without an armed escort, and white
children were waylaid and beaten on their way to the
public schools.

The incendiary organ of the Negroes, a newspaper that
had been noted for its virulent spirit of race hatred, had
published an editorial defaming the virtue of the white
women of the community.

At eleven o'clock the quaint old hall, built in Revolu-
tionary days to seat five hundred people, was packed with
a crowd of eight hundred stern-visaged men, standing
so thick it was impossible to pass through them, and
thousands were massed outside around the building.

Gaston, whose ancestors had been leaders in the great
Revolution, was called to the chair. The speech-
making was brief, fiery and to the point.

Within one hour they unanimously adopted this
resolution :

"Resolved, that we issue a second Declaration
of Independence from the infamy of corrupt

4i6 The Leopard's Spots

and degraded government. The day of Negro
domination over the Anglo-Saxon race shall
close, now, once and forever. The government
of North Carolina was established by a race of
pioneer white freemen for white men, and it shall
remain in the hands of freemen.

"We demand the overthrow of the criminal
and semi-barbarian regime under which we now
live, and to this end serve notice on the present
Mayor of this city, its Chief of Police, and the
six Negro aldermen and their low white asso-
ciates, that their resignations are expected by
nine o'clock to-morrow morning. We demand
that the Negro Anarchist who edits a paper in
this city shall close his office, remove its fixtures
and leave this county within twenty-four hours."
A committee of twenty-five, with Gaston as its
Chairman, was appointed to enforce these resolutions.
By four o'clock an army of two thousand white
men was organised and placed under the command of
the Reverend Duncan McDonald, pastor of the First
Presbyterian Church of the city, who had been a
brave young officer in the Confederate army. Every
minister in the county was enrolled in this guard
and carried a musket on picket duty or in a reserve
camp that night.

At six o'clock Gaston summoned thirty-five of the
more prominent Negroes of the county, including two of
the professors in Miss Susan Walker's college, to meet
the Committee of Twenty-five and receive its ultimatum.
Stern and hard of face sat the twenty-five chosen
representatives of that world-conquering race of men
at one end of the room, while at the other end sat the
thirty-five Negroes, anxious and fearful, realising that
their day of dominion had ended.

Another Declaration of Independence 417

Gaston rose and handed them a copy of the resolutions.

1 ' We give you till seven thirty to-morrow morning, as
the leaders of your race, to carry out these demands,"
he said, gravely.

"But we have no authority, sir," replied the Negro
preacher to whom he handed the paper.

"Your authority is equal to ours — the authority of
elemental manhood. If you cannot execute them in
peace, we will do it by force."

"We must decline such responsibilities unless" — the
Negro started to argue the question.

"The meeting stands adjourned," quietly announced
Gaston, taking up his hat and leaving the room, followed
by his committee.

At seven thirty next morning no answer had been
received. Gaston called for seventy-five volunteers to
execute the decrees.

Within thirty minutes five hundred men swung into
Hne at eight o'clock and marched four abreast to the
office of the Negro paper. It was promptly burned to
the ground, its editor paid its cash value, and, with a
rope around his neck, escorted to the depot and placed
on a north-bound train,

As Gaston handed him his ticket for Washington he
quietly said to him:

" I have saved your life this morning. If you value it,
never put your foot on the soil of this state again."

"Thank you, sir. I'll not return."

While this guard, under strict military discipline, was
executing this decree, a mob of a thousand armed Negroes
concealed themselves in a hedgerow and fired on them
from ambush, killing one man and wounding six.
Gaston formed hk men in line, returned the fire with
deadly effect, charged the mob, put them to flight,
driving them into the woods outside the city limits,

418 The Leopard's Spots

and placed the town under informal but strict martial
law. By ten o'clock the resignation of every city and
county o nicer was in his hand and the Mayor and Chief
of Police were at his feet begging for mercy.

He posted a notice over the county warning every
Negro and white associate that no further insolence or
criminality would be tolerated.

The county and municipal elections was but three days
off and there was but one ticket on the field. When the
white men elected were sworn in, the guards went to the
woods and told the terrified and half-starving Negroes
they could return to their homes, a competent police
force was organised, and the volunteer organisation
disbanded. Negro refugees and their associates once
more filled the ear of the national government with
clamour for the return of the army to the South to
uphold Negro power, but for the first time since 1867
it fell on deaf ears. The Anglo-Saxon race had been
reunited. The Negro was no longer the ward of the
republic. Henceforth, he must stand or fall on his
own worth and pass under the law of the survival of
the fittest.

This event made a tremendous impression on the
imagination of the people. It increased the popularity
and power of Gaston, its intended victim.

The General was more than ever determined to destroy
Gaston's power in the convention which was to meet in
a few weeks. He had his candidate for Governor well
groomed and he had captured the largest number of
pledged delegates. There were three other candidates,
but none of them apparently were backed by Gaston.
The General was puzzled at his methods, and failed to
discover his programme, though he spent money with
liberality and exhausted every resource at his command.

A strange thing had occurred that had upset all

Another Declaration of Independence 419

calculations. Beginning at Independence, a race fire
had broken into resistless fury and was sweeping along
the line of all the counties on the South Carolina
border and over the entire state with incredible
rapidity. Everywhere the white men were arming
themselves and parading the streets and public roads
in cavalry order, dressed in scarlet shirts. This Red
Shirt movement was a spontaneous combustion of
inflammable racial power that had been accumulating
for a generation.

The Democratic Executive Committee was called
together in haste and made the most frantic efforts to
stop it. But there was no head to it. It had no organi-
sation except a local one, and it spread by a spark
flying from one county to another.

McLeod laughed at the address of the Democratic
Committee and swore Gaston was the organiser of the
movement. He determined to nip it in the bud by
putting Gaston under a cloud that would destroy his
influence. He did not dare to attack him for his part
in the Revolution at Independence. He preferred to
belittle that affair as a local disturbance.

But at an election f 3r Congressman to fill a vacancy
the Democratic candidate had won by a narrow margin
in a campaign of great bitterness under Gaston's leader-
ship.

Charges of fraud were freely made on both sides.
McLeod determined to utilise these charges, and by
producing perjured witnesses before a packed court
place Gaston in jail without bail until the convention
had met.

He had every advantage in such a conspiracy. The
United States judge whom he intended to utilise was a
creature of his own making, a trickster whose confirma-
tion had been twice defeated in the Senate by the

420 The Leopard's Spots

members of his own party on his shady record. But
he had won the place at last by hook and crook, and
McLeod owned him body and soul.

Accordingly Gaston was arrested with a warrant
McLeod had obtained from his judge, arraigned before
him and committed without bail. He was charged with
a felon)'' under the election laws, taken to Asheville and
placed in jail.

The audacity of this arrest and the vehemence with
which McLeod pressed his charges created a profound
sensation in the state. It was rumoured that the graver
charge of murder lay back of the charge of felony and
would be pressed in due time. A murder had been
committed in the district during the exciting campaign
and no clue had ever been found to its perpetrator.
McLeod knew he had no evidence connecting Gaston
with this event, but he knew that he had henchmen who
would swear to anything he told them, and stick to it.

CHAPTER XI

THE HEART OF A WOMAN

WEEK after Gaston's imprisonment Sallie Worth
arrived in New York from her last trip abroad.
She had cut her trip short and cabled her father
of her return.

She was in an agony of suspense and uncertainty about
her lover. Gaston's letters had failed to reach her for a
month by reason of the war which had demoralised the
mail service. Her own letters had failed to reach
Gaston for a similar reason.

The General hastened to New York to meet his wife
and daughter and persuade Sallie to remain in the North
until December. He was hopeful now that her long
absence and Gaston's absorption in politics, his bitter
opposition to him personally, and the cloud under which
he rested in prison, would be the final forces that would
give him the victory in thp long conflict he had waged
for the mastery of his daugr ter's heart.

Before informing Sallie of the stirring events at
Independence and the part Gaston had taken in them,
or allowing her to learn of his imprisonment, the General
sought to find the exact state of her mind.

"I trust, Sallie," he began, "you are recovering from
your infatuation for this man. You know how dearly
I love you. I have never taken a step in life since I
looked into your baby face that wasn't for you and your
happiness."

She only looked at him wistfully and her eyes seemed
to be dreaming.

421

422 The Leopard's Spots

n

I want you to have some pride. Gaston has
attempted to kick me out of the councils of the party
and become the dictator of the state. His course is
one of violence and radicalism. I regard him as a
dangerous man, and I want you to have nothing to do
with him."

She was gravely silent.

"Do you believe he has been faithfully dreaming of
you in your absence?" asked the General.

"Yes, I do."

1 ' Then let me disabuse your mind. It is not the way
of strong men. He is absolutely absorbed in a desperate
political struggle in which his personal ambitions are
first. I have seen him paying the most devoted atten-
tions to the daughter of our rival down east, whose
influence he wants, and it is rumoured among his- friends
that he has proposed to her."

"Who told you that?" she asked, impetuously.

"I had it first from Allan, but I've heard it since
from others."

"I do not believe a word of it," she declared.

"That's because you're a woman and hold such silly
ideals. I tell you he wants you only because he knows
you are rich, and he wishe. to browbeat me. Such a
man will try to whip you before you have been his wife
five years, I know that kind of man. Why can't you
trust my judgment?"

"I had rather trust my heart's intuitions, Papa. I
cannot be deceived in such a question."

"Well, you are being deceived. He is anything but
a languishing lover. At present he is a political tiger at
bay. Unless you hold him to you by some pledge he
has given, he will forget you and marry another in two
years. I am a man and I know mem I thought I was
desperately in love twice before I met your mofier. I

The Heart of a Woman 423

got over both attacks without a scratch, fell in love with
her, married, and have lived happily ever since. You
have overestimated your own importance to him and
your influence over him."

A great fear awed her into silence. For the first time
in all her struggle with her father the sense suddenly
came into her heart of her dependence on Gaston's love
for the very desire to live, and for the first time she
realised the possibility of losing him. What if he
should press his great ambitions to successful issue
while she stood irresolute and tortured him with her
indecision? If he could win the world's applause
without her, might he not when successful, cease to
need her ? Her breast heaved with the tumult of uncer-
tainty. What if another woman saw and loved him,
and drew near to him in his hours of soul loneliness
and struggle, and he had learned to see her face with
joy ! The conviction came crushing upon her that
she had not responded bravely to this powerful man's
singular devotion into which he had poured without
reserve his deepest passion. Had he weighed her and
found her wanting in some dark hour in her absence?
Her heart was in her throat at the thought.

The General watched her keenly for several moments,
and thought at last he had broken the spell. He
believed he could now tell her of the cloud that hung
over Gaston.

"I said, Sallie, that I believed Gaston a dangerous
man. I did not speak lightly. We have had terrible
riots in Independence while you were absent in which
Gaston was the leader of an armed revolution which
overturned the city and county government. Two
thousand men were under arms for a week and several
were killed and wounded on both sides. The results
were good as a whole, I confess. We have a decent

424 The Leopard's Spots

government and we have security of property and life,
but such methods will lead to civil war."

Her face grew tense, and she looked at her father with
breathless interest during this recital.

"Was he in danger in those riots?" she slowly
asked.

"Yes, and I expect him to be killed at an early day
if he „ continues his present methods. A mob of five
hundred Negroes attempted to kill him. This was one
of the causes that led to the revolution."

She was on her feet now, pale and trembling with
excitement.

"Where is he?" she gasred.

"Now, my dear, it's useless to get excited. The
trouble is all over and a new mayor and police force are
in charge of the city. But he is resting under a serious
cloud at present. He is held in jail at Asheville on a
charge of felony, and a charge of murder is being
pressed."

" In jail ! In jail ! " she cried, incredulously, while her
eyes filled with tears.

"Yes; and Allan believes these ugly charges will be
proved in the United States court and he will be
convicted."

She did not seem to hear the last sentence.

"In jail!" she repeated, "my lover, to whom I have
given my life, and you, my father, while I was three
thousand miles away, stood by and did not lift a hand
to help him?"

"Has he not been my bitterest enemy, seeking to
insult me!" thundered the General.

" No ! He never insulted you or spoke one unkind
word about you in his life. Oh, this is shameful ! God
forgive me that I was not here I " Tears were streaming
down her face.

The Heart of a Woman 425

"You hold me responsible for the crazy young scamp's
career?" cried the General, indignantly.

"Not another word to me!" she exclaimed. "You
shall not abuse him in my presence."

The General was afraid of her when she used the tone
of voice in which she uttered that sentence. Ke had
heard it but once before, and that was when she told him
she was a free woman, twenty-one years old, and he had
broken down. He looked at her now, fearing to speak.
At length he said:

"I have engaged a suite of rooms for you here, my
dear, for the winter. I hope you will enjoy the season.
Let us change this painful subject."

"I do riot want the rooms," she firmly replied ; "I am
going to Asheville on the first train."

The General stormed and raged for an hour, but she
made no reply. Her mother was suffering from the
effects of the voyage and took no part in this storm.

11 But your mother will not be able to accompany you.
Surely you will not disgrace me by visiting that man
in jail!"

"I will. And when he is released I will return. I
will visit Stella Holt. I shall have ample protection."

The General was afraid . o oppose her in this dangerous
mood, and begged her mother to try to prevent her
going. Sallie sent Gaston a telegram that she was
coming.

In obedience to the General's request, her mother
called her into her room that night and they had a long
talk and cry in each other's arms.

Mrs. Worth did not try very hard to persuade her
not to go. Down in her own woman's soul she knew
what she would do under similar conditions, and she
was too honest with her child to try to deceive her.
She only made love to her mother-fashion.

426 The Leopard's Spots

"Oh! Mamma/' cried Sallie, burying her face beside
her mother as she lay in bed. ' ' I am at a great soul crisis.
I don't know what to do. I feel lonely, helpless and
heartsick. You are a woman. Put your dear arms
about me and help me to know the truth and my duty.
I want to ask you a question."

"What is it, darling? I'll answer it if I can," she
replied, stroking her dark hair tenderly.

"Do you believe these stories about Charlie's char-
acter?"

"Not one word of them!" she promptly answered.
An impulsive kiss and a sob.

"Dear Mother!" she said, in a low, tearful voice.
"And now one more. Papa has been dinning into my
ears his own fickleness in love when young and the
fact that he knows in a long life that love is of little
importance in a man's existence. He says that I can
forget and love again with equal intensity and better
judgment. Can one treat thus lightly the soul's deepest
instincts and still find life rich and worthy of effort?"

Her voice broke, and she continued slowly and
tremblingly, as she held one of her mother's hands
tightly '

"Now, Mamma, dear, hear' co heart, tell me as you
would talk in your inmost soul to God, do you believe
this is true? You have sounded life's deep meaning.
Is this all you know of life? You love me. Tell me
truly?"

"No, darling; a woman cannot deny this deep yearn-
ing of her soul and live. I would tear my tongue out
sooner than deceive you in such an hour."

"Sweet Mother!" she softly murmured again as she
kissed her good-night.

CHAPTER XII
THE SPLENDOUR OF SHAMELESS LOVE

WHEN Gaston received her telegram in jail he
was seated by a window looking out through
the bars on Mt. Pisgah's distant peak loom-
ing in grandeur amid a sea of smaller blue mountain
waves. He read the message and his soul was rilled
with a great peace.

"At last! These prison bars, they are good. I
could kiss them. I can never be grateful enough to
my enemies."

He had taken his prison as a joke from the first,
sneering at the judge who had committed him. He
knew that every day he stayed in that jail he was
becoming more and more the master of the people. If
McLeod had tried he could not have played into his
hands with more fatal certainty. Five hundred citizens
of Independence had wired him their congratulations
and offered him any assistance he desired, from unlimited
money for defense to a delegation to tear the jail down.

He declined any assistance. He knew the storm
would break over their heads soon enough, and they
would be delighted to get rid of him . In the meantime
he gave himself up to his thoughts about the woman
he loved, and wondered what change had suddenly
come over her to send him that message. He felt sure
the great crisis in their life had come. What would it
be ? A sorrowful surrender on her part to her father's
iron will and a tearful good-by forever, or the full

427

428 The Leopard's Spots

surrender of her woman's soul and body to the dominion
of his love?

He was glad the hour had struck that should decide.
He trembled at the import of her answer, but he was
ready to receive it.

A carriage rolled into the jail enclosure and two
young ladies alighted. One of them stopped in the
sitting-room for visitors, and he heard the tramp of a
man's heavy feet on the stairs, and after it the tread
of a woman like a soft echo.

The key grated in the lock; the door opened. She
looked into his eyes for just an instant of searching
soul revelation, saw the yearning and the grateful tears,
and with a glad cry sprang into his arms.

"You do love me !" she passionately cried.

"Love you? I drew you back across the sea with
my love. I knew you would come. I willed it with a
power you couldn't resist."

"I never got your letters, and I was hungry to see
you," she whispered.

"And I never got yours, and drew you back by the
power of a great heart purpose."

"Forgive me, for being away from you when you
were in danger."

"I was glad you were safe. Don't let this jail alarm
you. I'll be out too soon for my good, I'm afraid."

"No other woman has come into your heart to cheer
it, even with her friendship, since I've been away, has
she?"

"What a silly question. I've never looked at any
other woman since the day I first saw you."

"Tell me you love me again !"

"I — love — you, unto the uttermost, in life, in death,
forever!" he whispered, tenderly.

She sighed and smiled. "The sweetest music the

The Splendour of Shameless Love 429

ear of a woman ever heard!" she half laughed, half
cried.

"Now, my dear, you are a full-grown woman in the
beauty of a perfect womanhood. For five years and
more, I have waited and suffered. My life is an open
book before you. When are you going to end this
suspense ? You must decide now whether your father's
will shall rule your life or my love."

" Must I decide to-day? " she asked, tremblingly.

"Yes," he answered. "It is not fair to torture me
longer. ' '

"Then I give up!" she tearfully exclaimed. "God
forgive me if I am doing wrong ! I cannot resist you
longer. I do not desire to — I will not. I am all yours,
forever — soul, body, will, honour, life — all. I cannot
live without you. I love you. / love you! Kiss me !
Again — Ah, your lips are sweeter than honey ! Am
I bold to say it? I do not care, I am yours. Your
arms are the bonds of my slavery, and they are sweet."

Gaston was trembling with the joy that flooded his
being with these the first words of perfect faith and
submissive love that had come from her lips. And he
winced at the memory now of those hours of dissipation
when he had doubted her. He tried to confess it and
receive her absolution.

"My dear, my joy is too great. It is pain, as well
as joy. In the dark days of our first year of separation
I thought once you had forgotten me. I went away
into two weeks of debauchery. Your perfect love
crushes me with its beauty and purity. I must confess
this wrong to you, I must not deceive you in the
smallest thing in this hour."

She placed her hand over his lips. "I will not hear it.
I ought to have been braver and fought for my rights
and yours. I will not hear one word of humiliation

43° The Leopard's Spots

from you. I love you. You are my king. I love you,
good or bad. I would love you if you were a murderer
on the gallows. I cannot help it. I do not wish to
help it. I will follow you to the bottomless pit or to the
throne of God and say it without fear to devil or angel.
Kiss me again ! There, do not cry. Let me see your
beautiful brown eyes. I'll kiss the tears away. Tears
are for my eyes, not yours."

"Then you will fix the day, dear?" he softly urged.

"How soon would you like it?"

"The sooner the better."

"Then I fix to-day," she said, impulsively.

"What, here, in this jail?"

"Yes. Where you are is heaven to me. I haven't
noticed the jail," she said, soberly.

He looked at her a moment, strained her to his heart
and brushed the tears of joy from his eyes.

"My beautiful queen ! This hour is worth every pain
and every throb of anguish I have suffered. Its memory
will encompass life with a great light."

"I'll go with Stella, see Doctor Durham, who is here
looking after your case, have him get the license, and
we will be back in half an hour."

The Preacher greeted her with delight. "Ah! Misc*
Sallie, if I had known a little thing like this would havt?
brought you back, I would have hired a jail for him
long ago and put him in it."

"Doctor, I want you to get the license and marry ug
now. Will you do it ? "

"Will I? Just watch me. I'll have the documents
and be ready for the ceremony in fifteen minutes!"
cried the Preacher, as he hurried to the office of the
Register of Deeds.

Sallie ran up to Mrs. Durham's room, told her, an6
asked her to be one of the witnesses.

The Splendour of Shameless Love 431

'■ Of course I will, Sallie. You are the one girl in the
world I have always wanted Charlie to marry."

Sallie slipped her arm around Mrs. Durham. "You
don't think I am doing wrong to disobey my parents
thus, do you ? " she faltered. "I feel just for a moment,
now that I have decided, bruised and homesick — I want
my mother. Let me feel your arms about my neck just
once. You are a woman. You love me as well as Charlie ;
tell me, am I doing wrong? "

Mrs. Durham kissed her. " I do love you child. It is
a solemn hour for your soul. You alone can decide such
a question. Any intrusion of advice in such a trial would
be a sacrilege. Under ordinary conditions it would be a
dangerous thing for a girl thus to leave her father's
roof and take this step that will decide forever her
destiny. Marriage is something that swallows up life,
the past, the present, the future. We seem to have
never known anything else. I can only say, if I were
in your place, knowing all, I would do as your are
doing."

Sallie impulsively kissed her, bit her lips to keep back
a tear, and held her hand.

"I know your father well," she continued. "He is a
man I greatly admire. But he is unreasonable with any
one who dares to cross his will. You could never get
his consent now that his pride is aroused except by
forcing it. When it is over, he will forgive you,
and when he knows your lover as I know him he
will be as proud of his son-in-law as a peacock of his
plumage."

" It is sweet to hear just the advice one wishes in such
an hour," cried Sallie. "I shall always love you for
these words."

"Yes, I congratulate you on the end of your long hesi-
tation. I know you will be happy. Any woman would

43 2 The Leopard's Spots

be happy with the love of such a man, and he was made
for you."

"Then you don't believe with Papa," she said, with
a smile, "that his mouth is cruel, and that he will try
to whip me in five years, do you? "

Mrs. Durham laughed. "Yes, he will whip you, but
they will be love licks and you will cry for more. Your
lover is a rare and brilliant man. He is strong, rugged,
resistless in will, fierce in his passions from the blood
of sunny France in his veins, and masterful in life from
the iron heritage of the hardier races. You have seen
these traits. Wait until you know him as I do in his
daily life, and you will find a wealth of patience and a
depth of tenderness that will startle. I envy you."

"Thank you," Sallie interrupted. "You don't know
how glad your words are to my heart. I've not seen
much of that trait yet. I've been half afraid of him
sometimes. Let me kiss you again."

The keeper of the jail treated Gaston with every con-
sideration and arranged for the marriage to take place
in the little sitting-room, where he allowed him to come
on parole.

The bride wore a plain travelling dress in which she
had come from New York. She had driven from the
depot past Stella Holt's home, and with her straight to
the jail.

Gaston thought her the fairest vision that ever greeted
the eye of man as he stood by her side; for he had seen
that day the soul of a radiantly beautiful woman in the
splendour of shameless love. His own soul was drunk
with the joy of it all, and his eyes now devoured her
with their intense light.

Standing there before the Preacher whom he loved as
his father, and the foster mother who had wrapped his
little shivering body in the warmth of a great heart that

The Splendour of Shameless Love 433

night the light of life went out in his own mother's room,
with Stella Holt's sympathetic face reflecting her friend's
happiness, the marriage ceremony was performed. He
took Sallie's trembling hand in his and promised to love,
honour and cherish her as long as life endured. And
under his breath he added, ''Here and hereafter — for-
ever." And then she looked into his smiling face with
her blue eyes full of unspeakable love, and in a voice
low and soft as the note of a flute gave to him her life.

And the Preacher said, "What God hath joined
together, let not man put asunder."

She stayed there with him until the gathering
twilight.

"Now I must huny back to my father and win him. I
will not come to you a beggar. My father shall not dis-
inherit me. I am going to bring you my fortune, too."

"Oh, curse that fortune, dear! I've feared it was
that keeping us apart so long."

"Don't curse it. I like it, and I am going to win it
for you. You are a man of genius, Your success is as
sure as if it were already won. I will not come to you a
helpless pauper. I have never been taught to do any-
thing. I should like tG cook for yon if I knew how, and
I am going to learn how. I am going to make you the
most beautiful home that the heart of a woman can
dream. I'd rob the world for treasure for it. I am
going to rob my dear old father. He has sworn to
disinherit me if I marry without his consent. He shall
not do it."

"Then don't be long about it. You are my treasure.
I can build you a snug little nest at Hambright."

" I will only ask four weeks. Now do what I tell you.
Sit down and write Papa a letter telling him I am your
affianced bride and ask his consent to the celebration of
our marriage within three weeks. That will produce an

434 The Leopard's Spots

earthquake, and something will surely happen within
four weeks."

He wrote the letter, and she looked over his shoulder.

"You see, dear," she said, as she kissed him good-by,
"I love Papa so tenderly. You can't understand how
close the tie is between us ; perhaps some day in our own
home of which I'm dreaming you may understand as you
cannot now," she added, softly.

"Then for your sake, dearest, I hope you can win
him. But I'm afraid of this plan of yours."

"Leave it with me for a month, do just as I tell you,
and then I'll obey you all the rest of our lives — if your
orders suit me," she playfully added.

She returned to Stella Holt's, and Gaston went back to
his jail room and dreamed that night he was sleeping in
the Governor's Palace.

CHAPTER XIII
A SPEECH THAT MADE HISTORY

WHEN General Worth received Gaston's brief
and startling letter the wires were hot be-
tween New York and Asheville for hours.
His last message was a peremptory command to his
daughter to join him immediately at Independence.

When Sallie arrived at Oakwood the General was
already there, and the storm broke in all its fury. At
every bitter word she only quietly smiled, until the
General was on the verge of collapse. Day after day
he begged, pleaded, raged and finally took to hard
swearing as he looked into her calm, happy face.

In the meantime, McLeod and his henchman on the
judge's bench had seen a new light. The excitement over
the arrest of Gaston seemed to have fanned the flames of
the Red Shirt movement into a conflagration. He was
alarmed at its meaning. The judge heard a rumour that
five thousand Red Shirts were mobilising at the foot of
the Blue Ridge near Hambright, and that they were
going to march across the mountains into Asheville,
demolish the jail, liberate Gaston, and hang the judge
who had committed him without bail.

The rumour was a fake, but he was not taking any
chances. He issued an order releasing Gaston on his
own recognisance, and left for a vacation.

Gaston returned to Hambright showered with con-
gratulatory telegrams from every quarter of the state.

He received a brief note from Sallie saying the war

435

43 6 The Leopard's vSpots

was on but had not reached its final climax, as the
General was now devoting his best energies to the
Democratic convention which was to meet in ten
days, when he expected to crush any "fool movement
of young upstarts ! "

Gaston knew of his organisation, but he was sure the
number of delegates pledged to the General's machine
was not enough to dominate the body, even if he could
hold them in line.

When this convention met at Raleigh, no body of
representative men were ever more completely at sea as
to the platform or policy upon which they would appeal
to the people for the overthrow of an enemy. The coali-
tion that conquered the state and held it with the grip of
steel for four years was stronger than ever and was
absolutely certain of victory. The enormous patronage
of the Federal Government had been in their hands for
four years, and with the state, county and municipal
officers, a host of powerful leaders had been gathered
around McLeod's daring personality. Apparently
he was about to fasten the rule of the Negro and his
allies on the state for a generation.

When Gaston entered the convention hall he received
an ovation, heartfelt and generous, but it did not reach
the point of a disturbing element in the calculations of
the three or four prominent candidates for Governor.
General Worth had drilled his cohorts so thoroughly
in opposition to him that any sort of stampeding was
out of the question.

The platform committee was composed of seven
leaders, among whom was Gaston. There was a long
wrangle over the document, and at length when they
reported a sensation was created. For the first time
since their triumph over Simon Legree the committee
was divided, and, refusing to agree, submitted majority

A Speech that Made History 437

and minority reports. The committee stood five for
the majority and two for the minority.

Gaston and a daring young politician from the heart
of the Black Belt signed the minority report. The
majority report as submitted was merely a rehash of
the old platform on which they had been defeated by
McLeod twice, with slight additional impeachment of
the incapacity and corruption of the State administra-
tion. The delegates from the Black Belt and the coun-
ties where the Red Shirts had been holding their parades
received it with silence. General Worth's machine
cheered it vigorously, and gave a rousing reception to
their chosen champion who made the presentation speech.
When Gaston rose to offer and defend his minority
report, a sudden hush fell on the sea of eager faces.
A few men in the convention had heard him speak. All
had heard he was an orator of power, and were anxious
to see him. His leadership in the revolution of Inde-
pendence and his subsequent arrest and imprisonment
had made him a famous man.

"Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of the Convention,"
he began with a deliberate clear voice which spoke of
greater reserve power than the words he uttered con-
veyed— "I move to substitute for this document of
meaningless platitudes the following resolution on which
to make this campaign."

You could have heard a pin fall, as in ringing tones
like the call of a bugle to battle he read :
M Whereas, it is impossible to build a state inside a

state of two antagonistic races; and,
"Whereas, the future North Carolinian must therefore

be an Anglo-Saxon or a Mulatto,
"Resolved, that the hour has now come in our history to
eliminate the Negro from our life and reestab-
lish for all time the government of our fathers."

438 The Leopard's Spots

The delegates from New Hanover, Craven and Hali-
fax counties, the great centers of the Black Belt, sprang
on their seats with a roar of applause that shook the
building, and pandemonium broke loose. When one
great wave subsided another followed. It was ten
minutes before order was restored, while Gaston stood
calmly surveying the storm.

Just before him sat General Worth, pale and trem-
bling with excitement. The audacity of those resolutions
had swept him for a moment off his feet and back into
the years of his own daring young manhood. He
could not help admiring this challenge of the modern
world to stand at the bar of elemental manhood and
make good its right to existence. He was about to
summon his messengers and rally his lieutenants when
Gaston began to speak, and his first words chained his
attention.

While the tumult raised by his resolutions was in prog-
ress Gaston lifted his eyes toward the gallery, and there
just above him where it curved toward the platform
sat his beautiful secret bride. His heart leaped. Her
face was aflame with emotion, her eyes flashing with
love and pride. She slyly touched with her lips the tip
of her finger and blew a kiss across the intervening
space. He smiled into her soul a look of gratitude,
and with every nerve strung to its highest tension
resumed his place by the speakers' stand. When the
tumult died away he began a speech that fixed the
history of the state for a thousand years.

His resolutions had wrought the crowd to the highest
pitch of excitement, and his words, clear, penetrating
and deliberate, thrilled his hearers with electrical power.

" Gentlemen," he said, and the .slightest whisper was
hushed, "the history of man is a series of great pulse-
beats, whose flood overwhelms his future and fixes its

A Speech that Made History 439

life. Like the dammed torrent on a mountainside, it
breaks the conservatism that holds it stagnant for
generations and floods the world with its sweep.
Theories, creeds and institutions hallowed by age
are cast as rubbish on the scarred hills that mark its
course. The old world is buried and a new one appears.

"The Anglo-Saxon is entering the new century with
the imperial crown of the ages on his brow and the
scepter of the infinite in his hands.

"The Old South fought against the stars in their
courses — the resistless tide of the rising consciousness
of Nationality and World-Mission. The young South
greets the new era and glories in its manhood. He
joins his voice in the cheers of triumph which are usher-
ing in this all-conquering Saxon. Our old men dreamed
of local supremacy. We dream of the conquest of the
globe. Threads of steel have knit state to state. Steam
and electricity have silently transformed the face of
the earth, annihilated time and space, and swept the
ocean barriers from the path of man. The black
steam shuttles of commerce have woven continent to
continent.

"We believe that God has raised up our race, as he
ordained Israel of old, in this world-crisis to establish
and maintain for weaker races, as a trust for civilisa-
tion, the principles of civil and religious Liberty and
the forms of Constitutional Government.

"In this hour of crisis, our flag has been raised over
ten millions of semi-barbaric black men in the foulest
slave pen of the Orient. Shall we repeat the farce of
'67, reverse the order of nature, and make these black
people our rulers? If not, why should the African
here, who is not their equal,- be allowed to imperil
our life? "

A whirlwind of applause shook the building.

440 The Leopard's Spots

"A crisis approaches in the history of the human
race. The world is stirred by its consciousness to-day.
The nation must gird up her loins and show her right
to live — to master the future or be mastered in
the struggle. New questions press upon us for
solution.

"Shall this grand old commonwealth lag behind and
sink into the filth and degradation of a Negroid corrup-
tion in this solemn hour of the world ? ' '

"Nc ! No ! " screamed a thousand voices.

"What is our condition to-day in the dawn of the
twentieth century t If we attempt to move forward
we are literally chained to the body of a festering Black
Death !

' ' Fifty of our great counties are again under the heel
of the Negro, and the state is in his clutches. Our city
governments are debauched by his vote. His insolence
threatens our womanhood, and our children are beaten
by Negro toughs on the way to school, while we pay
his taxes. Shall we longer tolerate Negro inspectors
of white schools and Negroes in charge of white insti-
tutions? Shall we longer tolerate the arrest of white
women by Negro officers and their trial before Negro
magistrates ?

"Let the manhood of the Aryan race, with its four
thousand years of authentic history, answer that
question ! ' '

With blazing eyes, and voice that rang with the deep
peal of defiant power, Gaston hurled that sentence
like a thunderbolt into the souls of his thousand hear-
ers. The surging host sprang to their feet and shouted
back an answer that made the earth tremble.

Lifting his hand for silence he continued :

"It is no longer a question of bad government. It
is a question of impossible government. We lag behind

A Speech that Made History 441

the age, dragging the decaying corpse to which we are
chained.

"Who shall deliver us from the body of this death?

"Hear me, men of my race, Norman and Celt, Angle
and Saxon, Dane and Frank, Huguenot and German
martyr blood !

"The hour has struck when we must rise in our
might, break the chains that bind us to this corruption,
strike down the Negro as a ruling power, and restore to
our children their birthright, which we received, a price-
less legacy, from our fathers.

"I believe in God's call to our race to do His work
in history. What other races failed to do, you wrought
in this continental wilderness, fighting pestilence,
hunger, cold, wild beasts and savage hordes, until
out of it all has grown the mightiest nation of the earth.

"Is the Negro worthy to rule over you?

"Ask history. The African has held one-fourth of
this globe for 3,000 years. He has never taken one step
in progress or rescued one jungle from the ape and the
adder, except as the slave of a superior race.

u In Hayti and San Domingo he rose in servile insur-
rection and butchered fifty thousand white men, women
and children a hundred years ago. He has ruled these
beautiful islands since. Did he make progress with the
example of Aryan civilisation before him? No. But
yesterday we received reports of the discovery of
cannibalism in Hayti.

He has had one hundred years of trial in the north-
ern states of this Union with every facility of culture
and progress, and he has not produced one man who
has added a feather's weight to the progress of humanity.
In an hour of madness the dominion of the ten great
states of the South was given him without a struggle.
A saturnalia of infamy followed.

442 The Leopard's Spots

"Shall we return to this? You must answer. The
corruption of his presence in our body politic is beyond
the power of reckoning. We drove the Carpet-bagger
from our midst, but the Scalawag, our native product,
is always with us to fatten on the corruption and breed
death to society. The Carpet-bagger was a wolf, the
Scalawag is a hyena. The one was a highwayman,
the other a sneak.

"So long as the Negro is a factor in our political
life will violence and corruption stain our history.
We cannot afford longer to play with violence. We
must remove the cause.

"Suffrage in America has touched the lowest tide-
mud of degradation. If our cities and our Southern
civilisation are to be preserved, there must be a return
to the sanity of the founders of this republic.

"A government of the wealth, virtue and intelligence
of the community by the debased and the criminal is
a relapse to elemental barbarism to which no race of
freemen can submit.

"Shall the future North Carolinian be an Anglo-
Saxon or a Mulatto ? That is the question before you.

"Nations are made by men, not by paper constitu-
tions and paper ballots. We are not free because we
have a Constitution. We have a Constitution because
our pioneer fathers, who cleared the wilderness and dared
the might of kings, were freemen. It was in their
blood, the tutelage of generation on generation beyond
the seas, the evolution of centuries of struggle and
sacrifice.

"If you can make men out of paper, then it is pos-
sible with a scratch of a pen in the hand of a madman
to transform by magic a million slaves into a million
kings.

"We grant the Negro the right to life, liberty and the

A Speech that Made History 443

pursuit of happiness if he can be happy without exer-
cising kingship over the Anglo-Saxon race or dragging
us down to his level. But if he cannot find happiness
except in lording it over a superior race, let him look
for another world in which to rule. There is not room
for both of us on this continent."

Again and again Gaston raised his hand to still the
mad tumult of applause his words evoked.

"And we will fight it out on this line, if it takes
a hundred years, two hundred, five hundred, or a thou-
sand. It took Spain eight hundred years to expel the
Moors. When the time comes the Anglo-Saxon can do
in one century what the Spaniard did in eight.

"We have been congratulated on our self-restraint
under the awful provocation of the past four years.
There is a limit beyond which we dare not go, for at
this point self-restraint becomes pusillanimous and
means the loss of manhood."

He then reviewed with thrilling power the history of
the state and the proud part played in the development
of the republic. He showed how this border wilder-
ness of North Carolina became the cradle of American
Democracy and the typical commonwealth of freemen.

He played with the heart-strings of his hearers in
this close personal history as a great master touches the
strings of a harp. His voice was now low and quiver-
ing with the music of passion, and then soft and caress-
ing. He would swing them from laughter to tears in
a single sentence, and in the next the lightning flash
of a fierce invective drove into their hearts its keen
blade so suddenly the vast crowd started as one man
and winced at its power.

Through it all he was conscious of two blue eyes
swimming in tears looking down on him from the
gallery.

444 The Leopard's Spots

The crowd now had grown so entranced, and the
torrent of his speech so rapid, they forgot to cheer
and feared to cheer lest they should lose a word of the
next sentence. They hung breathless on every flash
of feeling from his face or eloquent gesture.

"I am not talking of a vague theory of constructive
dominion," he continued, "when I refer to the Negro
supremacy under which our civilisation is being
degraded. I use words in their plain meaning.
Negro supremacy means the rule of a party in
which negroes predominate, and that means a Negro
oligarchy.

"I call your attention to one typical county of more
than forty thus degraded, the county of Craven, whose
quaint old city was once the capital of this common-
wealth. What are the facts ? The Negro office-holders
of Craven County include a Congressman, a member of
the Legislature, a Register of Deeds, the City Attorney,
the Coroner, two Deputy Sheriffs, two County Commis-
sioners, a member of the School Board, three Road Over-
seers, four Constables, twenty-seven Magistrates, three
City Aldermen and four policemen. There are sixty-two
Negro officials in this county of 12,000 inhabitants, and
their member of the Legislature is a convicted felon. The
white people represent ninety-five per cent, of the wealth
and intelligence of the community and pay ninety-
five per cent, of its taxes, and are voiceless in its
government.

"Would a county in Massachusetts submit to such
infamy? No. There is not a county in the North
from Maine to California that would submit to it twenty-
four hours. Will the children of Lexington, Concord
and Bunker Hill demand such submission from the
children of Washington and Jefferson? No. The pas-
sions that obscured reason have subsided. The Anglo-

A Speech that Made History 445

Saxon race is united and has entered upon its world
mission.

"We will take from an unprofitable servant the ballot
he has abused. To him that hath shall be given, and
from him that hath not shall be taken away even that
which he hath. It is the law of nature. It is the law
of God.

"Yes, I confess it," he continued; "I am in a sense
narrow and provincial. I love mine own people.
Their past is mine, their present mine ; their future is
a divine trust. I hate the dish-water of modern world
citizenship.

" A shallow cosmopolitanism is the mask of death
for the individual. It is the froth of civilisation, as
crime is its dregs. Race and race pride are the ordi-
nances of life. The true citizen of the world loves his
country. His country is a part of God's world.

"So I confess I love my people. I love the South —
the stolid, silent South, that for a generation has sneered
at paper-made politics and scorned public opinion.
The South, old-fashioned, medieval, provincial, wor-
shipping the dead, and raising men rather than making
money, family-loving, home-building, tradition-ridden.
The South, cruel and cunning when fighting a treach-
erous foe, with brief, volcanic bursts of wrath and
vengeance. The South, eloquent, bombastic, romantic,
chivalrous, lustful, proud, kind and hospitable. The
South, with her beautiful women and brave men. The
South, generous and reckless, never knowing her own
interest, but living her own life in her own way — yes,
I love her ! In my soul are all her sins and virtues.
And with it all she is worthy to live.

"The historian tells us that all things pass in time.
Wolves whelp and stable in the palaces of dead kings
and forgotten civilisation. Memphis, Thebes and Baby-

446 The Leopard's Spots

Ion are but names to-day. So New Orleans and New
York may perish. African antiquarians may explore
their ruins and speculate upon their life; but we may
safely fix upon a thousand centuries of intervening
time. On your shoulders now rests the burden of civili-
sation. We must face its responsibilities. For my
part I believe in your future.

"The courage of the Celt, the nobility of the Nor-
man, the vigour of the Viking, the energy of the Angle,
the tenacity of the Saxon, the daring of the Dane,
the gallantry of the Gaul, the freedom of the Frank,
the earth-hunger of the Roman and the stoicism of the
Spartan, are all yours by the lineal heritage of blood,
from sire and dame, through hundreds of generations
and through centuries of culture.

"Will you halt now and surrender to a mob of ragged
Negroes led by white cowards who at the first clash of
conflict will hide in sewers ?

"I ask you, my people, freemen, North Carolinians,
to rise to-day and make good your right to live ! The
time for platitudes is past. Let us as men face the
world and say what we mean.

"This is a white man's government, conceived by
white men, and maintained by white men through
every year of its history — and by the God of our fathers
it shall be ruled by white men until the archangel shall
call the end of time !

"If this be treason, let them that hear it make the
most of it.

"From the eighth day of November we will not submit
to Negro dominion another day, another hour, another
moment. Back of every ballot is a bayonet, and the
red blood of the man who holds it. Let cowards hear
and remember this. Man has never yet voted away
his right to a revolution.

A Speech that Made History 447

"Citizen kings, I call you to the consciousness of
your kingship."

Gaston closed and turned toward his seat, while the
crowd hung breathless, waiting for his next word.
When they realised that he had finished, a rumble like
the crash in midheaven of two storms rolled over the
surging sea of men, and broke against the girders of the
roof like the thunder of the Hatteras surf lashed by a
hurricane. Two thousand men went mad. With one
common impulse they sprang to their feet, screaming,
shouting, cheering, shaking each others' hands, crying
and laughing. With the sullen roar of crashing thunder
another whirlwind of cheers swept the crowd, shook
the earth, and pierced the sky with its challenge. Wave
after wave of applause swept the building and flung
their rumbling echoes among the stars. These patient,
kindly people, slow to anger, now terrible in wrath, were
trembling with the pent-up passion and fury of years.
1 What power could resist their wrath !

Through it all Gaston sat silent behind the group of
the majority of the platform committee, with eyes
devouring a beautiful face bending toward him from
the gallery. She was softly weeping with love and pride
too deep for words.

While the tumult was still raging, before he was con-
scious of his presence, General Worth's stalwart figure
was bending over him and grasping his hand.

"My boy, I give it up. You have beaten me. I'm
proud of you. I forgive everything for that speech.
You can have my girl. The date you've fixed for the
marriage suits me. Let us forget the past."

Gaston pressed his hand, muttering brokenly his
thanks, and his soul sank within him at the thought
of this proud old iron-willed warrior's anger if he
discovered their secret marriage.

448 The Leopard's Spots

The General turned toward the side of the platform;
for he had seen the flash of Sallie's dress on the stairs
of the balcony leading to the stage. He knew her keen
eye had seen his surrender, and his heart was hungry
for the kiss of reconciliation that would restore their
old. perfect love.

He met her at the foot of the stairs and she threw
her arms impulsively around his neck.

"Oh, Papa, dear! I am the happiest girl in the
world. The two men of all men — the only two I love —
are mine forever ! ' '

While the applause was still echoing and reechoing
over the sea of surging men, and thousands of excited
people were crowding the windows from the outside
and blocking the streets in every direction clamouring
for admittance, a tall man with gray beard and sten-
torian voice sprang on the platform. It was General
Worth's candidate for Governor. He had not consulted
the General, but he had a motion to make. The crowd
was stilled and his voice rang through the building:

"Gentlemen, I move that the minority report offered
by Charles Gaston" — again a thunder-peal of applause
— "be adopted as the platform by acclamation ! "

A storm of "ayes" burst from the throats of the
delegates in a single breath like the crash of an
explosion of dynamite.

"And now that our eyes have seen the glory of the
Lord, as we heard His messenger anointed to lead
His people, I move that this convention nominate by
acclamation for Governor — Charles Gaston!"

Again two thousand men were on their feet shouting,
cheering, shaking hands, hugging one another and
weeping and yelling like maniacs.

A speech had been made that changed the current of
history and fixed the status of life for millions of people.

CHAPTER XIV
THE RED SHIRTS

AS soon as Gaston could leave the throngs of friends
who were congratulating him on his remarkable
speech and his certainty of election he hastened
to find Sallie.

"My lover, my king!" she cried impulsively, as he
clasped her in his arms.

"Your eyes kindled the fire in my soul and gave me
the power to mould that crowd to my will," he softly
told her.

"It is sweet to hear you say that."

"Now, my love, we are in an awful situation. What
are we to do with the General storming around pre-
paring for a grand wedding? What if that jailer gives
out the news ? McLeod can get it out of him if he ever
suspects anything."

" Don't worry, dear. I'll manage everything. We've
fixed the wedding on the Inauguration day — so you
can't be defeated. We will be busy day and night
getting ready my trousseau and issuing our invitations.
Papa will never dream that one ceremony has been
performed already. He need never know it until we
are ready to tell him."

"If he discovers it he will swear I have tried to
humiliate him, and he will never forgive it. Telegraph
me if anything happens and I will come immediately.
I can't see you for weeks in the campaign, but I will
write to you every day."

449

450 The Leopard's Spots

"His Excellency, the Governor of North Carolina!"
she softly exclaimed, with a dreamy look into his face.
" My lover!"

"Don't make me vain. I may be the Governor, but
I shall always be the slave of a beautiful woman who
came one day to a jail and made it a palace with the
glory of her love."

"I'm glad I didn't wait for your success."

The campaign which followed was the most remark-
able ever conducted in the history of an American
commonwealth. In the dawn of the twentieth century
a resistless movement was inaugurated to destroy the
party in control of a state, and affiliated with the most
powerful national administration since Andrew
Jackson's, on the open declaration of their intention
to nullify the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments to
the Constitution of the Republic.

There was no violence except the calm demonstration
in open daylight of omnipotent racial power and the
defiance of any foe to lift a hand in protest.

When Gaston spoke at Independence five thousand
white men dressed in scarlet shirts rode silently through
the streets in solemn parade, and six thousand Negroes
watched them with fear. There was no cheering or
demonstration of any kind. The silence of the proces-
sion gave it the import of a religious rite. A thousand
picked men were in line from Hambright and Campbell
County, and they formed the guard of honour for their
candidate for Governor.

Like scenes were enacted everywhere. Again the
Anglo-Saxon race was fused into a solid mass. The
result was a foregone conclusion.

CHAPTER XV
THE HIGHER LAW

McLEOD knew from the day of that outburst
which followed Gaston's speech in the Demo-
cratic convention that no power on earth
could save his ticket. To the world he put on a bold
face and made his fight to the last ditch, predicting
victory.

His secret anger against the Preacher and Gaston, his
pet, knew no bounds. Chagrined at his repulse by
Mrs. Durham and the attitude of contempt she had
maintained toward him, his tongue began to wag her
name in slander to the crowd of young satellites loafing
around his office in Hambright.

"Yes, boys," he said, "the Preacher is a great man,
but his wife is greater. She's the handsomest woman
in the state in spite of a gray thread or two in her rich,
chestnut hair. She has the most beautiful mouth that
ever tempted the soul of a man — and, boys, my lips
know what it means to touch it."

And when they stared with open eyes at this state-
ment, McLeod shook his head, laughed and whispered:

"Say nothing about it — but facts are facts."

McLeod chuckled over the certainty of the shame and
suffering that would wring the Preacher's heart when
dirty gossips of a village had magnified these words into
a complete drama of scandal. For all preachers McLeod
had profound contempt, and he felt secure now from
personal harm.

The day the Preacher first heard of these rumours was

451

452 The Leopard's Spots

the occasion of Gaston's campaign address under the
old oak in the square. He had looked forward to this
day with boyish pride mingled with a great fatherly
love. It would be his triumph. He had stirred this
boy's imagination and moulded his character in the
pliant hours of his childhood. He had told himself
that day he spent with him in the woods fishing that
he had kindled a fire in his soul that would not go out
till it blazed on the altar of a redeemed country. And
he was living to see that day.

The streets and square were thronged with such a
multitude as the village had never seen since it was
built. But the Preacher was not among them at the
hour the speaking began.

A simple old friend from the country asked him about
these rumours. He turned pale as death, made no
answer, and walked rapidly toward his study in the
church where his library was now arranged. He was
dazed with horror. It was the first he had heard of
it. One thing in his estimate of life had always been
as securely fixed and sheltered in his thought as his
faith in God, and that was his love for his wife and his
perfect faith in her honour.

He closed his door and locked it and sat down, trying
to think.

Had he not grown careless in the certainty of his
wife's devotion and his own quiet but intense love?
Had he not forgotten the yearning of a woman's heart
for the eternal repetition of love's language of sign and
word?

The tears were in his eyes now, and he felt that his
heart would beat to death and break within him !

He saw that his enemy had struck at his weakest spot,
and struck to kill.

He lifted his face toward the walls in a vague, unseeing

The Higher Law 453

look and his eyes rested on a pair of crossed swords
over a bookcase. They had been handed down to him
from a long line of fighting ancestors. He arose, took
them down mechanically, and drew one from its
scabbard. How snugly its rough hilt fitted his nervous
hand-grip ! He felt a curious throbbing in this hilt- like
a pulse. It was alive, and its spirit stirred deep waters
in his soul that had never been ruffled before.

He recalled vaguely in memory things he knew
had never happened to him and yet were part of his
inmost life.

"Damn him!" he involuntarily hissed, as he gripped
the sword hilt with the instinctive power of the fighting
animal that sleeps beneath the skin of all our culture
and religion.

And then his eyes rested on a quaint little daguerreo-
type picture of his wife in her bridal dress, her sweet
girlish face full of innocent pride and warm with his
love. By its side he saw the portrait of their dead boy.
How he recalled now every hour of that wonderful
period preceding his birth — the unspeakable pride and
tenderness with which he watched over his young wife !
He recalled the morning of his birth, and the heart-
rending, piteous cries of young motherhood that tore
his heart until the nails of his own fingers cut the flesh
and drew the blood. How the minutes seemed long
hours, and how at last he bent over her, softly kissed the
drawn white lips, and gazed with tearful wonder and
awe on the little red bundle resting on her breast ! He
recalled the tremor of weariness in her voice when she
drew his head down close and whispered:

"I didn't mind the pain, John, though I couldn't help
the cries. He's yours and mine — I am as proud as a
queen. Now our souls are one in him — I am tired — I
must sleep."

454 The Leopard's Spots

Every movement of his past life seemed to stand out
in this crisis with fiery clearness. He seemed to live
in an instant whole years in every detail of that closeness
of personal life that makes marriage a part of every
stroke of the heart.

At last he set his lips firmly and said:

"Yes, damn him, I will kill him as I would a snake I"

He sat down and wrote his resignation as pastor of
the church, left it on his desk, and strode hurriedly
from the study, leaving his door open. He purchased
a revolver and a box of cartridges and walked straight
to McLeod's office.

The speaking was over, and McLeod was alone,
writing letters. He looked up with scant politeness as
the Preacher entered, and motioned him to a seat.

Instead of seating himself, he closed the door and,
standing erect in front of it, said:

"Allan McLeod, you are the author of an infamous
slander reflecting on the honour of my wife."

"Indeed!" McLeod sneered, wheeling in his chair.

"I always knew that you were a moral leper "

"Of course, Doctor, of course, but don't get excited,"
laughed McLeod, enjoying the marks of anguish on his
face.

"But that your lecherous body should dream of
invading the sanctity of my home, and your tongue
attempt to smirch its honour, was beyond my wildest
dream of your effrontery. How dare you? "

"Dare? Dare, Preacher?" interrupted McLeod, still
sneering. "Why, by 'The Higher Law,' of course.
You have been teaching all your life that there are higher
laws than paper-made statutes. You have trained this
county in crime under this beautiful ideal. Surely I
may follow the teachings of a master in Israel ? ' '

"What do you mean, you red-headed devil?"

The Higher Law 455

"Softly, Preacher," smiled McLeod. "Simply this.
You expound 'The Higher Law' for political consump-
tion. I apply it to all life.

"There are but two real laws of man's nature — hunger
and love. All others change with time and progress.
These are the higher laws — in fact, they are the highest
laws. The stupid conventions that superstition has
built around them may hold back the weak, but the
powerful have always defied them. Your brilliant
exposition of the higher law in politics first set my mind
to work and led me to a complete emancipation from
the slavery of conventionalism in which fools have held
society for centuries. There are conventional laws and
superstitions about the little ceremony called marriage
cherished by the weak-minded. There is a higher law
of nature. The brave live this life of daring freedom,
while cowards cling to forms. Do I make myself
clear?"

"Perfectly so, you mottled leper. You think that
because I am a preacher I am a poltoon, and that you
can play with me without danger to your skin. Well,
I was a man before I was a preacher. There are some
things deeper than the forms of religion, if you wish to
push the higher law to its last application. You have
found that quick in my soul, mine enemy ! I have
resigned my church — to kill you. There is not room
for you and me on this earth "

McLeod sprang to his feet, his soul chilled by the tone
in which the threat was uttered. He started to call for
help, and looked down the gleaming barrel of a revolver.

"Move now or open your mouth and I kill you
instantly. Sit down. I give you five minutes to write
your last message to this world."

McLeod sank into his seat trembling like a leaf, with
the perspiration standing out on his forehead in cold

45 6 The Leopard's Spots

beads. Now and then he glanced furtively at the stern
face of blind fury towering over his crouching form.

Unable to endure the terrible strain, he sank to the
floor whining, slobbering, begging in abject cowardice
for his life. He crawled toward the Preacher, reached
out his hand and touched his foot.

11 My God, Doctor, you are mad ! You will not commit
murder. You are a minister of Jesus Christ. Have
mercy. I am at your feet. Your wife is as pure as an
angel. I only said what I did to torture you "

"Get up, you snake!" hissed the Preacher, stamping
his body with all his might until McLeod screamed with
pain and scrambled to his feet cowering and whining
like a cur.

1 ' Finish your letter. You will never leave this room
alive."

A long, pitiful sob broke the stillness, and McLeod
was looking into the Preacher's face in vain for a ray
of hope.

Suddenly Gaston burst into the room, trembling with
excitement. "My God, Doctor, what does this mean?"
he cried, seizing the revolver.

McLeod sprang toward Gaston, groaning and crawling
toward his feet. "Save me, Gaston ! The Doctor's gone
mad ! He is about to kill me ! "

"Charlie, I must!" pleaded the Preacher.

"No, no; this is madness. I thank God I am in time.
I missed you at the speaking, and, hearing a rumour of
this slander, I hurried to find you. I saw your study
open and read your letter. I knew I'd find you here.
I'll manage McLeod."

The Preacher sat down crying. McLeod had crawled
back to his desk and was mopping his face. Gaston
walked over to him and said with slow, trembling
emphasis :

The Higher Law 457

"I give you twelve hours to close this office, wind up
your business, and leave. In the meantime, you will
write a denial of this slander satisfactory to me for
publication. If you ever open your mouth again about
my foster mother, or put your foot in this county, I
will kill you. I expect your letter ready in two
hours."

Gaston took the Preacher by the arm and led him
down the stairs and back to his study. In the reaction,
there was a pitiable breakdown.

"Oh! Charlie, you've saved me from an unspeakable
horror. Yes, I was mad. I was proud and wilful. I
thought I knew myself. To-day I have looked into the
bottom of hell. I have seen the depths of my own heart.
Yes, I have in me the germs of all sin and crime. I am
the brother of every thief, of every murderer, of every
scarlet woman of the streets that ever stood in the
stocks or climbed the steps of a gallows "

" Hush, I will not listen to such talk. You are a man,
that's all," interrupted Gaston.

"But God's mercy is great," he went on. "I have
tried to live for my people and my country, not for
myself. If I have failed to be a faithful husband, this
is my plea to God: I have not thought of myself nor
of my own, but of others."

After an hour he was quiet, and, turning to Gaston,
he said:

"Charlie, go tell your mother to come here; I want
to see her."

When she came and sat down beside him with quiet
dignity, she said: "Now, Doctor, say what you wish.
Charlie has told me much, but not all. Let us look into
each other's souls to-day."

"I only want to ask you, dear," he said, tenderly,
"just how far your friendship for this villain may have

458 The Leopard's Spots

led you. I know you are innocent of any crime. I
only want to know the measure of my own guilt."

"You know, John," she said, using his first name as
she had not for years, "he has always interested me from
a boy, and in the darkest hour of my heart's life, when I
felt your love growing cold and slipping away from me
and my faith in all things fading, he attempted to make
vulgar love to me. I repulsed him with scorn, and have
since treated him with contempt. You know that I
kissed him once when he was a boy. I have told you
all. What do you propose to do?"

"What will I do, my darling? " he softly asked, taking
her hand. "Begin anew from this moment to love and
cherish, honour and protect you unto death. You are
my wife. I took you a beautiful child, innocent of the
world. If you have failed in the least, I have failed.
If you have stumbled in the dark even in your thought
I will lift you in my arms and soothe you as a mother
would her babe. If you should fall into the bottomless
pit, into the pit and down to the lowest depths of hell,
I would go and lift you in the arms of my love. To
break the tie that binds us is unthinkable. It has passed
into the infinite. Not only are our souls one in a little boy's
grave, but there is something so absorbing, so interwoven
with the hidden things of nature in our union that I
defy all the fiends in perdition to break it. Love is
eternal. And your love for me was the great fixed
thing in my life like my faith in the living God."

"Oh, John, you are breaking my heart now, when I
think that I doubted your love ! I could have brooked
your anger, but this overwhelms me!"

"It has always been my character," he gravely said.

"Then I have never known you until now" — and she
fell sobbing on his breast, the years rolled back, and
they were in the sweet springtime of life again.

CHAPTER XVI
THE END OF A MODERN VILLAIN

TWO days after McLeod's flight from Hambright
the press despatches flashed from New York a
startling two-column account of the attempted
assassination of the Honourable Allan McLeod, the
Republican leader of North Carolina, in the terrific
campaign in progress, and that he was compelled to
flee from the state to save his life.

Gaston was elected Governor by the largest majority
ever given a candidate for that office in the history of
North Carolina.

McLeod was promptly rewarded for his long career of
villainy by an appointment as our Ambassador to one
of the Republics of South America, and the Senate at
once confirmed him. His dream of a life of ease and
luxury had come at last.

For six months he had been quietly going to Boston,
paying the most ardent court to Miss Susan Walker,
whom he had met at her college at Independence. She
was a matured spinster now approaching sixty years
of age, and worth $5,000,000 in her own name.

He had easy sailing from the first. He joined her
church in Boston, after a brilliant profession of religion
that moved Miss Walker to tears, for he had told her it
was her love that had opened his eyes. And it was
true.

McLeod timed his last visit to Boston so that he
arrived the day the city was ringing with the sensation

459

460 The Leopard's Spots

of his attempted assassination and the desperate fight
he was making to uphold law and order in the South.
When Miss Walker read that article in her paper she
resolved to marry him immediately. She gave McLeod
a wedding present of a half-million dollars. He wept
for joy and gratitude, and kissed her with a fervour that
satisfied her hungry heart that he was the one peerless
lover of the world.

CHAPTER XVII
WEDDING BELLS IN THE GOVERNOR'S MANSION

TWO days after McLeod and his bride reached
Asheville on their wedding trip, General Worth
received a letter which threw him into a par-
oxysm of rage. Sallie's wedding had been fixed for
the day of the inauguration of- the Governor. The
invitations were out and society in a flutter of comment
and gossip over the romantic and brilliant career of
young Gaston, and his luck in winning power, love
and fortune in a day.

The letter was from McLeod, at Asheville, informing
him that his daughter was already married, and that
Gaston was simply seeking his fortune by a subterfuge,
and showing his power over him by humiliating him at
the last moment before the world. He enclosed a
transcript of the marriage record, signed by the Reverend
John Durham, and witnessed by Mrs. Durham and
Stella Holt. This record was certified before the Clerk
of the Court and bore his seal. There was no doubt
of the facts.

When the General handed this letter to Sallie she
flushed, looked wistfully into his face, saw its hard
expression of speechless anger, turned pale and burst
into tears.

Her father without a word went to his room and
locked himself in for twenty-four hours, refusing to see
her or speak to her.

On the following day she forced her way into his

461

462 The Leopard's Spots

presence, and they had the last great battle of wills. All
the iron power of his unconquered pride, accustomed
for a lifetime to command men and receive instant
obedience, was roused to the pitch of madness.

"If you marry him I swear to you a thousand times
you shall never cross my doorstep and you shall never
receive one penny of my fortune. He is a gambler and
an adventurer, and seeks to make me a laughing-stock
for the world."

"Papa, nothing could be further from his thoughts.
He has always loved and respected you. I assume all
the responsibility for our secret marriage."

"Then sharper than a serpent's tooth is the ingratitude
of a disobedient child!"

"But, Papa, I waited five years of patient suffering
trying to obey you," she protested.

"I had rather see you dead than to see you marry
that man now and have him sneer his triumph in
my face."

"We are already married. Why talk like that?" she
pleaded, tearfully.

"I deny it. I am going to annul that marriage.
Felony is ground for the dissolution of the marriage tie.
A ceremony performed under such conditions when one
of the parties is in prison charged with felony without
bail is illegal, and I'll show it. The lawyers will be here
in an hour and I will take action to-morrow."

"Never, with my consent!" she firmly replied. She
left the room, consulted her mother, and hastily des-
patched a telegram to Hambright summoning Gaston
to Independence immediately.

When this telegram came he was in his office hard at
work on his inaugural address, outlining the policy of
his administration. He was in a heated argument with
the Preacher about the article on education, which

Wedding Bells in the Governor's Mansion 463

followed his recommendation of the disfranchisement
of the Negro.

He had advised large appropriations for the industrial
training of Negroes along the lines of the new move-
ment of their more sober leaders.

1 ' It's a mistake," argued the Preacher. "If the Negr*
is made master of the industries of the South he will
become the master of the South. Sooner than allow him
to take the bread from their mouths, the white men will
kill him here, as they do North, when the struggle for
bread becomes as tragic. The Negro must ultimately
leave this continent. You might as well begin to
prepare for it."

"But we propose to train him principally in agri-
culture. We need millions of good farmers," persisted
Gaston.

" So much the worse, I tell you," replied the Preacher.
"Make the Negro a scientific and successful farmer, and
let him plant his feet deep in your soil, and it will mean
a race war."

"It seems to me impracticable ever to move him."

"Why?" asked the Preacher. "Those over certain
ages can be left to end their days here. The Negro has
cost us already the loss of $7,000,000,000, a war that
killed a half-million men, the debauchery of our suffrage,
the corruption of our life, and threatens the future with
anarchy. Lincoln was right when he said:

1 ' ' There is a physical difference between the white and
the black races which, I believe, will forever forbid them
living together on terms of social and political equality.*

"Even you are still labouring under the delusions of
'Reconstruction.' The Ethiopian cannot change his
skin, or the leopard his spots. Those who think it
possible will always tell you that the place to work this
miracle is in the South. Exactly. If a man really

464 The Leopard's Spots

believes in equality, let him prove it by giving his
daughter to a negro in marriage. That is the test.
When she sinks with her mulatto children into the black
abyss of a Negroid life, then ask him ! Your scheme of
education is humbug. You don't believe that any
amount of education can fit a Negro to rule an Anglo-
Saxon, or to marry his daughter. Then don't be a
hypocrite."

"But can we afford to stop his education?"

"The more you educate, the more impossible you
make his position in a democracy. Education ! Can
you change the colour of his skin, the kink of his hair,
the bulge of his lips, the spread of his nose, or the beat
of his heart, with a spelling-book? The Negro is the
human donkey. You can train him, but you can't
make of him a horse. Mate him with a horse, you lose
the horse, and get a larger donkey called a mule, incap-
able of preserving his species. What is called our race
prejudice is simply God's first law of nature — the
instinct of self-preservation."

Gaston was gazing at the ceiling with an absent look
in his eyes and a smile playing around his lips.

"You are not listening to me now, you young rascal I
You are dreaming about your bride."

Gaston quickly lowered his eyes and saw the mes-
senger boy, who had been standing several minutes with
his telegram.

He read Sallie's message with amazement.

" What can that mean ? " He handed the telegram to
the Preacher.

"It means he has discovered the facts and there is
going to be trouble. He is a man of terrific passions
when his pride is roused."

" I must go immediately."

He closed his office and caught his train after a hard

Wedding Bells in the Governor's Mansion 465

drive. When he reached Independence he sprang into a
carriage and ordered the driver to take him direct to
Oakwood. What had happened he did not know and
he did not care. Of one thing he was now sure — Sallie's
love and the swift end of their separation.

His heart was singing with a great joy as he drove
over the famffiar avenue through the deep shadows of
the woods and, turning through the gate, saw the light
gleaming from the room.

" God bless her, she's mine now — I hope I can take her
home to-night !" he cried.

She had walked down the drive to meet him. He
leaped from the carriage, kissed her and asked:

"What is it, dear?"

"McLeod wrote him about our marriage, and now he
swears he will bring a suit to annul it. Leave your car-
riage here and come with me. If he don't send these
lawyers away and receive you, I will be ready to go with
you in an hour."

"Queen of my heart!" he whispered. "You are all
mine at last."

She called her father from the library into the parlour
and stood on the very spot where Gaston had writhed
in agony on that night of his interview with the General.

He started at the expression on her face and the tense
vigour with which she held herself erect. His suit had
not been progressing well with his lawyers. They had
tried to humour him, but had declined to express any
hope of success in such an action. He saw they were
half-hearted and it depressed him.

"Now, Papa," she firmly said, "it will not take us
ten minutes to decide forever the question of our lives.
If you take another step with these lawyers — if you do
not dismiss them at once, I will leave this house in an
hour, go with the man of my choice to his home, and you

466 The Leopard's Spots

will never see me again. You shall not humiliate me
nor him another hour."

The General looked at her as though stunned; his
voice trembled as he replied :

"Would you leave me so in an hour, dear ? "

"Yes; Charlie is waiting there on the porch for me
now, and his carriage is outside. I will not subject him
to another insult, nor allow any one else to do it."

The General sank heavily into a chair and stretched
out his hands toward her in a gesture of tender entreaty.

"Come, child and kiss me — you know I can't live
without you! Forgive all the foolish things I've said
in anger and pride. Your happiness is more to me
than all else."

She was crying now in his arms.

"Go, bring Charlie. The youngster has beaten me.
I've fought a foeman worthy of my steel. It's no
disgrace to surrender to him."

In a moment she led Gaston into the room, and the
General grasped his hand.

"Young man, for the last time I welcome you to this
house. Now, it is yours. You can run this place to
suit yourself. I've worked all my life for Sallie. I give
up the ship to you."

"General, let me assure you of my warmest love. I
have never said an unkind thing or harboured a harsh
thought toward you. I shall be proud of you as my
father. I have loved you and Mrs. Worth since the first
day I looked into Sallie's face."

The invitations stood. Gaston returned immediately
to Hambright, and on the morning of the inauguration,
accompanied by Bob St. Clare and the Chief Justice of
the Supreme Court, he entered the grand old mansion
with its stately pillars and claimed his bride. The
Chief Justice performed a civil ceremony, and the party

"Wedding Bells in the Governor's Mansion 467

started on a triumphal procession to the capital. The
General was bubbling over with pride in the handsome
appearance the bride and groom made, and tried to
outdo himself in kindliness toward Gaston.

"Come to think it over, Governor," he said to him
after the inauguration, "it was a brave thing in my little
girl, marching into that jail alone and marrying her lover
in a prison, wasn't it ? By George, she's a chip off the
old block ! I don't care if the world does know it."

"General, that was the bravest thing a woman could
do. She is the heroine of the drama. I play second
part."

They did not wait long for the people to know it. At
four o'clock in the afternoon an extra appeared with a
startling account of the fact that the Governor's beauti-
ful bride had braved the world and secretly married
him when his fortunes were at ebb-tide and he was a
prisoner in the Asheville jail.

That night, when Sallie entered the banquet hall of
the Governor's Mansion, leaning proudly on Gaston's
arm, she was greeted with an outburst of homage and
deep feeling she had never dreamed of receiving. When
the Governor acknowledged the applause of his name,
he bowed to his bride, not to the crowd.

The Preacher rose to respond to the toast, "The
Master and the Mistress of the Governor's Mansion,"
and seemed to pay no attention to the Governor, but,
turning to Sallie, he said :

"To the queenly daughter of the South, who had eyes
to see a glorious manhood behind prison bars, the nobility
to stoop from wealth to poverty and transform a jail into
a palace with the beauty of her face and the splendour
of her love — to her, the heroine who inspired Charles
Gaston with power to mould a million wills in his, change
the current of history, and become the Governor of the

468 The Leopard's Spots

Commonwealth — to her all honour, and praise, and
homage.

"My daughter, it is meet that our wealth and beauty
should mate with the genius and chivalry of the South.
May it ever be so, and may your children's children be as
the sands of the sea !"

Sallie bowed her head as every eye was turned admir-
ingly upon her. The General trembled, and when the
crowd rose to their feet and reechoed, "To her all honour
and praise and homage," and the Governor bent proudly
kissing her hand, he bowed his head and wept.

Her mother, sitting by her side with shining eyes,
pressed her hand and whispered :

"My beautiful daughter, now my work is done."

As Gaston strolled out on the lawn with his bride after
the banquet, they found a seat in a secluded spot amid
the shrubbery.

"My sweet wife !" he exclaimed.

"My husband!" she whispered, as they tenderly
clasped hands.

"Tell me now who was the author of all those lies
about me to your father ? "

"Why ask it, dear? You know Allan wrote the last
letter."

"The dastard. I was sure of it from the first. Well,
he had the facts in that last letter, didn't he ? "

"Yes," she answered, with a smile.

They rose to return to the Mansion, roused by the
stroke of midnight from the clock in the tower of the
City Hall.

"From to-night, my dear," he said, with enthusiasm,
"you will share with me all the honours and responsi-
bilities of public life."

"No, my love, I do not desire any part in public life
except through you. You are my world. I ask no

Wedding Bells in the Governor's Mansion 469

higher gift of God than your love, whether you live in a
Governor's Mansion or the humblest cottage. I desire
no career save that of a wife — your wife" — she hid her
face on his breast as a little sob caught her voice, "and
I would not change places with the proudest queen that
ever wore a crown." She said this looking up into his
face through a mist of tears.

With trembling lips and dimmed eyes he stooped and
kissed her as he replied :

"And I had rather be the husband of such a woman
than to be the ruler of the world."

THE END