The Battle Ground

here his shoes had worn away, and his head was swimming like a top. The only pleasant fact

e spring was low and damp and fragrant with the breath of mint which grew in patches in the little stream. Overhead a wild grapevine

houghts. The clump of cedars, the wild cherry, flowering in the spring like snow, the blasted oak that stood where the branch roads met, the perfume of the grape blossoms on the wall-these were as familiar to him as t

tears had not saddened. He saw her in a long, black dress, with upraised arm, putting back a crepe veil from her merry eyes, and smiling as his father struck her. She had always smiled when she was hurt-even when the blow was heavier than usual, and the

, my son," she used to say; "they have no false pride, but they know their place, and in England, between you and me, they were more important than the Washingtons. Not that the General wasn't a great man, dear, he was a very great

t so imposing as Uplands, with its pillars reaching to the roof, but older, oh, much older, and built of brick that

sash. Now the window is quite dark with leaves, though you can still read the words Aunt Emmeline cut with her diamond ring in one of the tiny panes, when young Harry Fitzhugh came in upon her just as she had written a refusal to an English earl. She was sitting in the window seat with the letter in her hand, and, when your

ked roof, the hall, with its shining floor and detached staircase that crooked itself in the centre where the tall clock stood, and, best of all, the

ck from her thin throat and a fluted cap above her corkscrew curls-her daguerreotype,

elms, dwarfed by the giant trees that arched above it. A dog's bark sounded snappily from a kennel, but he paid no heed. He went up the broad white w

, and started to his feet. "Something's gone wrong at Uplands," he said aloud; "there's an illness-or the brandy is out." He closed the book, pushed

s no ill news,

light. His head whirled, and he reached out to steady himself against the door

ther, and I'm very

ughly, under the light. As he towered there above him, he gulp

Jane's boy?" h

s long Roman nose and his fierce black eyebrows. A mist gathered bef

or, and again he swallowed. Then he stoop

" he said in a knotty v

and bade him to be seated. As the old man opened the huge mahogany sideboard and brought out a shoulder of cold lamb and a plate of bread and butter, he questioned him with a quaint courtesy about his li

e boy, "that was left from m

e table and attacked it gri

istled, and then, "y

etimes meat, and they let me sleep in the barns where the straw was, and once a woman took me into her house

. The word recalled him to himself, and he got up and raised the lid

boy, doubtfully, "or a cow, if you could

"Why, I'll sell your grandmother'

ossed it off, not lingering, as usual, for the priceless flavour. "Two hundred miles!" he gasped, as he looked at the child with moist eyes over which his red lids half closed. "Ah, you're a Lightfoot," he said slowly. "I should know you w

, not unlike his grandfather's and as the Major rose, he stood up also, li

they went out, and he led the way up the crooked stair past the old clock in the bend. On the firs

tick which supported a well-worn volume of "The Mysteries of Udolpho," held open by a pair of silver snuffers. The old lady's face was sharp and wizened, and beneath h

Lightfoot?" sh

the hand, the Major

boy, Molly," he

ioned in suspicion, and at the child's "Yes, ma'am," she said, "Come nearer. There, stand between the curtains. Yes, you are Jane's boy, I see.

s which were hanging from a chair back. He had always thought of her as in her rich black silk, with the tig

answered simply, "Dandridge-

o hundred miles, Moll

to Jane's old room, and see that he has a blanket on his bed. He should have been asleep hours ago-good night, chi

e. "I think you'll find everything you need," he said, stooping to feel the covering on the bed. "Your grandm

e several books with her name written in pale ink on the fly leaves. The mirror to the high old bureau seemed still to hold the outlines of her figure, very shadowy against the greenish glass. He saw her in her full white skirts-she had worn nine petticoats, he knew, on grand occasions-fastening her coral necklace about her stately throat, the bands of her black hair drawn like a veil above her merry eyes. Had she l

ond the sloping windows, the meadows with their annual yield of grain. He felt the pride of it swelling within him; he waited breathlessly for the daybreak when he might go out and l

e was aroused by a knock on his door, and, as he jumped out of bed, Big Abel, the Major's driver and confidential servant, came in with th

ody, she sez she done save you de bes' puffovers you ever ta

red the boy, as he splash

Why, she

ly and ran down into the hall where he found Champe Ligh

ands into his pockets and presenting an expres

stood staring at each other with t

d you

rt the way on a steamboat. D

ything. I've seen George Washingt

hed. I lived

u what, you'd better learn," he said at last, returning the can to Zeke and taking up his fishing-rod

ng her pink teaset in a basin of soapsuds. She wore her stiff, black silk this morning with its dainty undersleeves of muslin, and h

answered the boy, kiss

Your grandfather is a very learned man, Dan, he reads Latin every morning in

fluttered in and out of the storeroom, stopping at intervals to scold the stream of servants that poured in at the dining-room door. "Ef'n you don' min', Ole

her husband or her slaves. "Hush, Silas, don't say a word until I tell you. Cupid-you are the only one with any sense-measure Paisley a dose of Jamaica ginger from the b

de fence. All de ducks Aun' Meeley been fatten

withered, little hands. "Send them out, Cupid. No, Car'line, not a word. Don't '

ajor's guns from the rack, and, as he caught sight of the strapping figure and kindly black face, he sm

said gravely, and he foll

is doorstep of a fine evening, and he drove beside him on the box when the old coach went out. "Big Abel says a gentle

bel doesn't know a gentleman!" he cried, making a lunge at his cousin. In point of truth, it was Champe who did the whipping in such free fights; but bruises and a bleeding no

d wholly good-humoured, in which the eldest male Lightfoot had squandered his time and his fortune. Why, was not the old coach itself but an existing proof of Big Abel's stories? "'Twan' mo'n twenty years back dat Ole Miss had

hit uz th'owed away in de out'ouse, en I 'uz des stiddyin' 'bout splittin' it up fer kindlin' wood-en de new car'ige hit cos' mos' a mint er money. Ole Miss she uz dat sot up dat she ain' let de hosses git no sleep-nor me nurr. Ef

e is it,

raxton,-all tied up in a bag wid a string roun' de neck er it,-en we start out agin (en Ole Miss she settin' up at home en plannin' w'at she gwine buy), w'en we come ter de tave'n whar we all use ter git our supper, en meet Marse Plaintain Dudley right face to face. Lawd! Lawd! I'se done knowed Marse Plaintain Dudley afo' den, so I des tech up my ho

h like a devil. 'Oh, come in, suh, come in en win, den,' he sez, en Ole Marster step out en walk right in wi

ut, 'Ole Marster, whar de gol'?' en he stan' still en ketch his breff befo' he say, 'Hit's all gone, Abel, en de car'ige en de hosses dey's gone, too." En w'en

de car'ige?' But Ole Marster, he des hang down his haid, same es a dawg dat's done been whupped fur rabbit runnin', en he sob, 'Hit's gone, Molly en de bag er gol' en de hosses, dey's gone,

she cry?" asked th

, Marse Lightfoot, I'm glad you kep' Abel-en we'll use de ole co

e ever said abou

e rack de nex' day, he was settin' up des es prim in de parlour a-sippin' a julep wid Marse Peyton Ambler, en I hyern

SE WITH AN

e of lilacs and the two silver poplars at the gate, his eyes wandered leisurely across the blue green strip of grass-land to the tawny wheat field, where the slaves were singing as they swung the

that touched the pleasant hills and valleys was aglow in his clear brown eyes and comely features. Even the smooth white hand in which he held his hat and riding-whip had about it a certain

he song to end. Then he stooped beside a column and carefully examined a newly planted coral

rows of antlers and gunracks, and rippling over the well-waxed floor upon which no drop of water had ever fallen. A f

field done to-day," he said: "but it doesn't look much like it-they've been dawdling over it for the last three

nity. "I'm sure Aunt Pussy says she can't trust Judy for three days in the dairy without finding that the cream has stood too long for butter-and Judy has been churning for twe

. "Simply exquisite, my love. There isn't a woman in Virginia who can do s

e to her nunlike face. "It could certainly go upon a younger man, Mr. Ambler," she rejoined, with a touch of

oving pat. "Ah, you're a partial witness, my dear," he said; "but I've an error to confe

aress. "Why, Mr. Ambler, you bought six of Colonel Blake's last year, you know and one of the

rnor. "You'd have done it yourself, my dear. They were sold to a dea

and you did right about the others-you always do right." She put out her delicate blue-veined hand and t

e Governor, proudly. "You might have been

rned, half in jest, half in wifely humility. "I'm sure I'd much rather make shirt fronts for you than wear them myself." Then

ly and grown older than her years. The master might live with a lavish disregard of the morrow, not the master's wife. For him were the open house, the shining table, the well-stocked wine cellar and the morning rides over the dewy fields; for her the cares of her home and children, and of the sou

pper landing, she met Bet

pe and the new boy and Big Abel? And

our frock. Stand still and I'll mend it for you," and she got out her need

p nicer than Champe, mamma,"

ou, d

ght Champe 'cause he said I didn't have as much

e as men, my dear," replied Mrs

gets roused-an' that cert'n'y did rouse him. His nose bled a long time, too, and Champe whipped him, you know. But, when it

ughts into your head. If the Lord had wanted you to be clever, He would have made you a man. Now, run away, and don't g

t Lydia," she cried. "It came all wrapped up in tissue paper, with mamma's gray silk, and it's got flowers on it-a lot of them!" with which parting shot, sh

g against the blossomless shrubs of snowball and bridal-wreath, like a faintly tinted flower that had been blighted before it fully bloomed. Around her the garden was fragrant as a rose-jar with the lid left off, and the very paths beneath were red and white with fallen petals. Hardy c

d send, despite herself, a mild imagination in pursuit of the follies from which she so earnestly prayed to be delivered-she, to whom New York was as the terror of a modern Babylon, and a Jezebel but a woman with paint upon her cheeks. "They tell me that other women have painted since," she had once said, with a wistful curiosity. "Your grandmamma, my dear Julia, had even seen one with an artificial colour. She would not have mentioned it to me, of course,-an unmarried lady,-but I was in the next room when she spoke of it to old Mrs. Fitzhugh. She was a woman of the world, was your grandmamma, my dear, and the most finished dancer of her day." The last was said with a timid pride, though to Miss Lydia herself the dance was the devil'

houghts, and then swept her trailing bombazine into the house. "I have come to tell you that you may as well send th

ler's cheerful response. "You have no

"No, you must send it back, my love," she said in a resigned voice. "It do

e put it straight for you. Why, it suits you perfe

ave my old one, which is quite good enough for me, my love. It was very sweet of you to think of it, but it may as well go back.

that poor Mrs. Brown who was here last week," she said softly, "and I remember her telling me that

old one!" she exclaimed. "It does seem a shame that she should be kept away from church because of a bonnet. And, t

ooking at it when Betty rushed in and threw herself upon her mother. "O, mamma, I can't help it!" she cried in tear

er shoulders and drew her toward her. "Betty, did you s

but she stopped long enou

le and pretended it was a fort, an' Big Abel, he was an Injun with the axe for a tomahawk; but the woodpile blazed right up, an' the Major came runnin' ou

hall, "Mr. Ambler, Betty has set fire to the Major's woodpile!" Her voi

led the Governor. "Why, bless my

d Dan," wa

eated the Governor, indignantly.

tunia, run down and tell Hosea to saddle his master's horse. Betty, I hope thi

erves," sobbed Betty,

better be starting at once, and don't forget to tell the Maj

'am," we

to the hall and took dow

he fathers," he remarked gloomily as he moun