s adopted son and, whenever it was
possible, he came in to take Chad out home to spend Sunday with him;
but, being a wise man and loving Chad's independence, he let the boy
have his own way. He had bought the filly--and would hold her, he said,
until Chad could buy her back, and he would keep the old nag as a
broodmare and would divide profits with Chad--to all of which the boy
agreed. The question of the lad's birth was ignored between them, and
the Major rarely spoke to Chad of the Deans, who were living in town
during the winter, nor questioned him about Dan or Harry or Margaret.
But Chad had found out where the little girl went to church, and every
Sunday, despite Caleb Hazel's protest, he would slip into the Episcopal
church, with a queer feeling--little Calvinist of the hills that he
was--that it was not quite right for him even to enter that church; and
he would watch the little girl come in with her family and, after the
queer way of these "furriners," kneel first in prayer. And there, with
soul uplifted by the dim rich light and the peal of the organ, he would
sit watching her; rising when she rose, watching the light from the
windows on her shining hair and sweet-spirited face, watching her
reverent little head bend in obeisance to the name of the Master,
though he kept his own held straight, for no Popery like that was for
him. Always, however, he would slip out before the service was quite
over and never wait even to see her come out of church. He was too
proud for that and, anyhow, it made him lonely to see the people
greeting one another and chatting and going off home together when
there was not a soul to speak to him. It was just one such Sunday that
they came face to face for the first time. Chad had gone down the
street after leaving the church, had changed his mind and was going
back to his room. People were pouring from the church, as he went by,
but Chad did not even look across. A clatter rose behind him and he
turned to see a horse and rockaway coming at a gallop up the street,
which was narrow. The negro driver, frightened though he was, had sense
enough to pull his running horse away from the line of vehicles in
front of the church so that the beast stumbled against the curb-stone,
crashed into a tree, and dropped struggling in the gutter below another
line of vehicles waiting on the other side of the street. Like
lightning, Chad leaped and landed full length on the horse's head and
was tossed