political martyrs; complacency, exaltation, narrowness of
vision, and uncompromising devotion to an ideal--these were the
qualities which had passed from the race into the individual and through
the individual again back into the very blood and the fibre of the race.

"Do you work on Sunday?" she inquired sweetly, yet with the faintest
tinge of disapproval in her tone.

He nodded. "Once in a while."

"Saint James' Church is only a few minutes' walk from here; but I
suppose you are a Presbyterian, like your uncle?"

His respectability he saw hung in the balance--for to have avowed
himself a freethinker would have dyed him socially only one shade less
black than to have declared himself a Republican--so, escaping without a
further confession of faith, he ascended to his room and applied himself
anew to the regeneration of the American drama. The dull gold light,
which slept on the brick walls, began presently to slant in long beams
over the roofs, which mounted like steps up the hillside, while as the
morning advanced, the mellow sound of chimes floated out on the
stillness, calling Dinwiddians to worship, as it had called their
fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers before them. The Sabbath
calm, so heavy that an axe could hardly have dispelled it, filled the
curving streets and the square gardens like an invisible fog--a fog that
dulled the brain and weighed down the eyelids and made the grim walls of
the Treadwell tobacco factory look as if they were rising out of a
dream. Into this dream, under the thick boughs of mulberry trees, there
passed presently a thin file of people, walking alone or in pairs. The
men were mostly old; but the women were of every age, and all except the
very young were clad in mourning and wore hanging veils on their
bonnets. Though Oliver did not know it, he was, in reality, watching a
procession of those who, having once embraced a cause and lost it, were
content to go on quietly in a hush of memory for the rest of life.
Passion had once inflamed them, but they moved now in the inviolable
peace which comes only to those who have nothing left that they may
lose. At the end of the line, in the middle of the earthen roadbed
walked an old horse, with an earnest face and a dump cart hitched to
him, and in the cart were the boxes of books which Susan had helped
Oliver to pack the evening before. "Who'd have thought she'd get them
here so soon?" he said to himself. "By George, she is a