ditor's weapon dropped. He threw both hands against his breast,
looked to heaven, wheeled half round, and fell upon his face as dead as
a stone.

Halliday leaped into the saddle, answered one shot that came from the
crowd, and clattered away on the turnpike.

John was standing with arms held out. He turned blindly to find the
doorway of the stairs and cried, "Father! father!"

"Son!"

He started for the sound, groped against the wall, sank to his knees,
and fell backward.

"Room, here, room!" "Give him air!" "By George, sir, he rushed right in
bare-handed between 'em, orderin' Haggard"--"Stand back, you-all, and
make way for Judge March!"

"Oh, son, son!" The father knelt, caught the limp hands and gazed with
streaming eyes. "Oh, son, my son! air you gone fum me, son? Air you
gone? Air you gone?"

A kind doctor took the passive wrist. "No, Judge, he's not gone yet."

Ravenel and the physician assumed control. "Just consider him in my
care, doctor, will you? Shall we take him to the hotel?"

Garnet supported Judge March's steps. "Cast your burden on the Lord,
Brother March. Bear up--for Sister March's sake, as she would for
yours!"

Near the top stairs of the Ladies' Entrance Ravenel met Fannie.

"I saw it all, Mr. Ravenel; he saved my father's life. I must have the
care of him. You can get it arranged so, Mr. Ravenel. You can even
manage his mother."

"I will," he said, with a light smile.

Election-day passed like a Sabbath. General Halliday returned, voted,
and stayed undisturbed. His opponent, not Garnet this time, was
overwhelmingly elected. On the following day Haggard was buried "with
great eclat," as his newspaper described it. Concerning John, the doctor
said:

"Judge March, your wife should go back home. There's no danger, and a
sick-room to a person of her----"

"Ecstastic spirit--" said the Judge.

"Exactly--would be only----"

"Yes," said the Judge, and Mrs. March went. To Fannie the doctor said,

"If he were a man I would have no hope, but a boy hangs to life like a
cat, and I think he'll get well, entirely well. Move him home? Oh, not
for a month!"

Notwithstanding many pains, it was a month of heaven to John, a heaven
all to himself, with only one angel and no church. As long as there was
danger she was merely cheerful--cheerful and beautiful. But when the
danger passed she grew merry, the play of her mirth rising as he gained
strength to bear it. He loved mirth, when others made