le think,
but I know of no worse nuisance than a filthy, blasphemous drunkard.
There he sits,--remove him."

There was a perfect shout of laughter and delight; and before the irate
"citizen" comprehended what was intended, or could throw himself into a
pugilistic attitude, he was seized, _sans_ ceremony, and ignominiously
pushed and hustled from the car; the people therein, black soldier and
all, drawing a long breath of relief, and going on their way rejoicing.
Everybody's eyes were brighter; hearts beat faster, blood moved more
quickly; everybody felt a sense of elation, and a kindness towards their
neighbor and all the world. A cruel and senseless prejudice had been
lost in an impulse, generous and just; and for a moment the sentiment
which exalted their humanity, vivified and gladdened their souls.

CHAPTER XI

"_The future seemed barred
By the corpse of a dead hope._"

OWEN MEREDITH

So, then, after these long years he had seen her again. Having seen her,
he wondered how he had lived without her. If the wearisome months seemed
endless in passing, the morning hours were an eternity. "This
afternoon?" he had said. "Be it so," she had answered. He did not dare
to go till then.

Thinking over the scene of the morning, he scarcely dared go at all. She
had not offered her hand; she had expressed no pleasure, either by look
or word, at meeting him again. He had forced her to say, "Come": she
could do no less when he had just interfered to save her insult, and had
begged the boon.

"Insult!" his arm ached to strike another blow, as he remembered the
sentence it had cut short. Of course the fellow had been drinking, but
outrage of her was intolerable, whatever madness prompted it. The very
sun must shine more brightly, and the wind blow softly, when she passed
by. Ah me! were the whole world what an ardent lover prays for his
mistress, there were no need of death to enjoy the bliss of heaven.

What could he say? what do? how find words to speak the measured
feelings of a friend? how control the beatings of his heart, the passion
of his soul, that no sign should escape to wound or offend her? She had
bade him to silence: was he sufficiently master of himself to strike the
lighter keys without sounding some deep chords that would jar upon her
ear?

He tried to picture the scene of their second meeting. He repeated again
and again her formal title, Miss Ercildoune, that he might familiarize
his ton