the dead
past--and thanked God that he lived in another age, and had escaped
this sin.

As he wandered through the old house, a veil seemed to fall from his
eyes. How old everything was, how shrunken and decayed! The sheen of
the hidden gold had gilded the dilapidated old house, the neglected
plantation, his own barren life. Now that it was gone, things appeared
in their true light. Fortunately he was young enough to retrieve much
of what had been lost. When the old man was buried, he would settle
the estate, sell the land, make some provision for Aunt Viney, and
then, with what was left, go out into the world and try to make a
place for himself and Graciella. For life intrudes its claims even
into the presence of death.

When the doctor came, a little later, Ben went with him into the death
chamber. Viney was still kneeling by her master's bedside, but
strangely still and silent. The doctor laid his hand on hers and old
Malcolm's, which had remained clasped together.

"They are both dead," he declared. "I knew their story; my father told
it to me many years ago."

Ben related what he had overheard.

"I'm not surprised," said the doctor. "My father attended her when she
had the stroke, and after. He always maintained that Viney could
speak--if she had wished to speak."

_Thirty-six_

The colonel's eyes were heavy with grief that night, and yet he lay
awake late, and with his sorrow were mingled many consoling thoughts.
The people, his people, had been kind, aye, more than kind. Their warm
hearts had sympathised with his grief. He had sometimes been impatient
of their conservatism, their narrowness, their unreasoning pride of
opinion; but in his bereavement they had manifested a feeling that it
would be beautiful to remember all the days of his life. All the
people, white and black, had united to honour his dead.

He had wished to help them--had tried already. He had loved the town
as the home of his ancestors, which enshrined their ashes. He would
make of it a monument to mark his son's resting place. His fight
against Fetters and what he represented should take on a new
character; henceforward it should be a crusade to rescue from
threatened barbarism the land which contained the tombs of his loved
ones. Nor would he be alone in the struggle, which he now clearly
foresaw would be a long one. The dear, good woman he had asked to be
his wife could help him. He needed her clear, spiritual vision; and i