s compelled to suffer Fortescue to wander over the farm.
He took it upon himself to do so; and I scarcely knew how to forbid him.
I did stay him, however, from looking through my house. I saw that he
was a hungry dog, an impoverished wanderer who had fallen into means,
if, indeed, he was Zoe's husband.

The question now was, how to get him away; how, without denying he had
any rights, to keep him from assuming an attitude of proprietorship. I
thought it best to go with him. Accordingly, as I had proposed that we
go to Springfield at once, we rode partially across the farm in going to
Jacksonville. I told Fortescue frankly that I would have to look into
his proofs, and that I meant to go to Chicago, and that it was my duty
to see to it that Zoe's murderer was punished.

I stopped a few minutes to talk to Reverdy and Sarah. Reverdy was all
sympathy and wondered what misfortune would befall me next. Sarah wept
for Zoe's fate and for the trouble that it involved me in. She went to
the window and looked out. There was Fortescue waiting for me,
apparently glowing for the good fortune that had come to him. And here
was I in the house of Dorothy's brother and unable to put out of mind
the hope that Zoe's death would change Dorothy's decision, even while I
was grieving for Zoe. Like a spider at its door Fortescue was waiting
for me. Whether he or I should be more benefited by Zoe's death remained
to be seen. As I left I asked Reverdy to write Dorothy and tell her what
had happened to Zoe.

When we got to Springfield I left Fortescue to his own ways. I looked
up Douglas and asked his advice. As always, he was busy in politics. He
was now master of his party's organization. But as I had tortures
because of my position he had anxieties because of the lack of means.
The law business did not bring him a great deal; it could not, for his
mind was on other things. He was trying to be secretary of state in
order to supplement his earnings as a lawyer. He was catching at
whatever offered to float himself along. His life was, therefore,
patchy. Would it ever be a whole, well-fitting garment to his great
genius?

I took up with him at once the matter of Zoe's common-law marriage.
There was first the question whether Zoe could enter into any marriage
with a white man. But I had settled that with Mr. Brooks, when going
into that matter of my father's marriage with Zoe's mother. Zoe was not
a negro, not a mulatto; she had less than one fo