home, as he went by, as if
he had never seen it; even his memory of himself and his childhood
days was dim, and he and Madelon, glancing at Lot's windows and
having his image forced, as it were, upon their consciousness,
regarded it as they might have done an actor in some old drama of
history in which they also had taken part, but which had long since
passed off the stage.

They left the house behind and were swiftly out of sight, over the
crest of a long hill with a great spread of golden maple branches
closing after them like a curtain, and neither of them dreamed in
what straits Lot Gordon lay behind his vacant windows--and all
through this love and bliss and paradise of theirs.

The smart chaise and the Morgan horse had scarcely disappeared before
Margaret Bean came hurriedly out of Lot Gordon's house and went
rattling in her starched draperies towards the village; and soon
after that the doctor was seen driving thither furiously in his
tilting sulky, while windows were opened and spying heads thrust out
all along his course.

An hour later everybody knew that Lot Gordon, some said by a fall in
climbing over a stone wall, some said by a severe fit of coughing,
had caused his old wound to beset him again with danger of his life.
That night, indeed, the tide of rancorous gossip swelled high. The
spirit of persecution and righteous retribution which finds easy
birth in New England villages was fast getting to itself feet and
hands and tongue and a whole body of active powers.

A stormy bridal night had Burr and Madelon known had they been at
home; and had Lot Gordon died during the next three days, in which he
lay in imminent danger, there had been fleet horses on the track of
the swift Morgan, and the wedding-journey had come to a close.

Yet the Hautville men heard nothing of the bitterness which was
gathering towards Madelon and Burr, for people, fearing their fierce
tempers, hesitated until the time was come to disclose it to them.
Even old Luke Basset dared not carry news to them. The tongues were
always hushed when one of them drew near; and as for Eugene, who,
having a wife, might perhaps have discovered it, he and Dorothy took
the stage coach for Boston the day after the marriage, and were
paying a visit at Dorothy's aunt's there.

After three days Lot Gordon was reported to be no longer hovering
between life and death, and yet it was said on good authority,
through the doctor's wife in fact, that he