The Miller Of Old Church

e house appeared to Gay beyond a slight swell in the meadows. The grove of oaks, changing from dark red to russet, was divided by a short

ir on the lawn, a shriek in a high pitched negro voice pierced

er ole marster! Yessuh-Yessuh

ang, and the sound of flying footsteps echoe

ook against the background of oaks. His mother and his aunt, he concluded, were doubtless away for their winter's shopping, so lifting his horse's head from the grass, he passed between the marble urns and the clipped box, and followed a path, deep in leaves, which led from the west wing of the house to the outside kitchen beyond a paved square at the back. Half intelligible words floated to h

d the chorus within. "Ole marster's done come ter fotch me, but I

osing his temper. "Send somebody out here to take my hor

n died out in a despairing moan, while the blanch

a'nt, Marse Jonathan

oddering idiot, a

ade a feeble clutch at the reins, which dropped from his grasp

ain never sot foot in de stab

's my

up ter town en Miss Kesiah s

house

iss Molly she's got de keys up y

th a grain of sense out

Mol

ed, he wondered idly if the lady who kept the keys would prove to be the amazing little person he had seen some hours earlier perched on the load of fodder in the ox-cart. The question was settled almost before it was asked, for a band of lamplight streamed suddenly from the door of the cottage, and in the centre of it appeared the figure of a girl in a w

nd he saw her vivid little face, with t

" she said at last, "but grandfather to

vern. That she was, in reality, of his blood and the child of his uncle, he had not doubted since the moment she had smiled at him from her s

suppose," he replied. "

is expected home d

g you to open th

ater made a cheerful noise amid a silence which struck Gay suddenly as hostile. When the girl raised her head he saw that her face had grown hard and cold, and that the expression of her eyes had changed to one of indignant surprise. The charming coquetry had fled from her look, yet her evident aversion piqued him into a half smiling, half serious interest. He wonder

xpression of indignant surprise still in her face. How she hated him and, by Jove, how she could hate! She reminded him of a little wild brown animal as she stood there with her teeth showing between her parted red lips and her eyes flashing defiance. The next min

t, she busied herself with the cups and saucers as though she w

asked, and waited, not witho

se," she answered politely. "If you will sit down

d y

her. He's out in the barn giv

foil to the order above it. Without spirit to resent, he, with his fellows, had endured the greatest evils of slavery. With the curse of free labour on the land, there had been no incentive for toil, no hire for the labourer. Like an incubus the system had lain over them, stifling all energy, checking all progress, retarding all prosperity save the prosperity of the great land-owners. Then the soil had changed hands, and where the plough had broken the earth, the seeds of a democracy had germinated and put forth from the very blood of the battlefields. In the upward pressure of class, he had seen the stability of cu

nchanting curves and delicious softness. Her sharpened features grew rounder, and her thin red lips lost their hardness of outline. When she raised her h

aid the girl, "I was coming to

g as he held out his hand to Gay, "So you've come

, "and I was just asking your granddaughter i

which struck Gay as singularly pathetic. "After supper Molly

d at his knees, and leaning over, he care

ad his supp

vy." At her voice the hound groped toward her, and st

ly as if he were not sure he had chosen the right word. "If

er," insisted Gay, in his genial tone. "If you're going t

the young man at the end of the red-and-white cloth on the table. Then she turned away,

ntly, meeting his eyes over the glass

e was half savage, of course, with red hands, and bad manners and dressed like a boy that had got into skirts for a joke-but, by George, there was something about her that bit into the fancy. Not a beauty like his Europa of the pasture (who was, when it came to that?)-but a fascinating little beggar, with a

n inadvertently glanced toward him, and turning away the instant afterwards, he found the girl's eyes watching him with a defiant and threatening look. Her passionate de

s less rustic in her speech than his Europa, and there was the look of breeding, or of blood, in the fine

to the other of his hearers with his gentle and humble look. "I told

id it on purpose." Meeting the young man's amused and enquiring expression, she added defiantly, "The

, to judge from what I

gesture for a rustic coquette-whil

you'll probably find Abel Revercomb sulking and brow-beating his mother

cted the assertion to be disputed, "but she was taught t

ver you, gr

easantly rather than otherwise. His ideal woman-the woman of the early Victorian period-was submissive and clinging. He was perfectly assured that she would have borne her wrongs, and even her mother'

hich she selected from a china vase on the mantelpiece. Once outside she walked a little ahead of Gay and the yellow blaze of the lantern flitted like a luminous bird over the fla

y, the maid, who was discovered roasting an app

e and make up the bed in the blue

y, I'se a-comin'

lightwood. He will

ollowing her into the hall, he stood back while she lit a row of tallow candles, in old silver sconces, which extended up the broad mahogany staircase to the upper landing. One by o

d, pointing to a closed door, "and th

er gloomy,

wine? I have the

place feels as if it had b

o you mind sleeping here? It

and I may have a

was chasing the shadows up the great brick chimney. When Molly returned with the brandy, Gay was leaning ag

with its hangings of faded damask to an engraving of the Marriage of Pocahontas between t

ts. As for those in the haunt's walk, I never believed in them.

out, "why in thunder th

. "I can't tell you

alf angered, ha

" he observed presentl

were bracing herself for a retort. The impulse to torment her was strong in him, and

n an ugly woman," he said, "but you're so

'll strike yo

not shy and fleeting. That she was by instinct

ly that I've no intentio

y as my mother was," s

m to sympathy. "Don't quarrel with me, Molly,"

ulse. This sensation was so gratifying while it lasted that his manner assumed a certain austerity as one who had determined t

" he observed staidly, "that is why

for you?" she inquired, with frigid

ing-you can

d again in her face, and she fell back a ste

if you don't min

do mind-

I'd rat

ke me as much as you

or

he re

ore. You a

retorted, "and you, my pretty s

us to put an end to a conversation which had become suddenly too intimate. On

bottom drawer if you find y

here are blankets i

ight and Uncle Abednego will give

ot to have

her. I never come to the big house

then, of my mother

f you hear a noise in the night it is only the acorns dropping

, "I wish you'd shake han

what a waste of good bricks and mortar!-the room was ridiculously large! On the smooth white walls reddish shadows moved in a fantastic procession, and from the big chintz-covered lounge the monstrous blue poppies leaped out of the firelight

miss it when there came a long silence. One might easily imagine it to be the tapping of ghostly fingers-of the fingers of pretty Janet Merryweather-some quarter of a century earlier. Her daughter was hardly more than twenty now, he supposed, and he wondered how long the mad

th the obvious, he undressed, blew out the light, a