emingly
fresh from heaven, stood behind the melodeon and sang the repentant
prodigal's resolve; and he, in raging shame for the stripes once dealt
him, the lie they had scared from him at the time, and the many he had
told since to cover that one, shed such tears that he had to steal out,
and, behind a tree in the rear of the church, being again without a
handkerchief, dry his cheeks on his sleeves.

And now, in his lowly bed, his eyes swam once more as the girl's voice
returned to his remembrance: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and
before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son."

He left his bed and stood beside the higher one. But the father slept.
Even if he should waken him, he felt that he could only weep and tell
nothing, and so he went back and lay down again. With the morning,
confession was impossible. He thought rather of revenge, and was hot
with the ferocious plans of a boy's helplessness.

XI.

A BLEEDING HEART

One night early in November, when nearly all Rosemont's lights were out
and a wet brisk wind was flirting and tearing the yellowed leaves of the
oaks, the windows of Mrs. Garnet's room were still bright. She sat by a
small fire with Barbara at her knee. It had been election-day and the
college was silent with chagrin.

"Is pop-a going to get elected, mom-a?"

"I don't think he is, my child."

"But you hope he is, don't you?"

"Listen," murmured the mother.

Barbara heard a horse's feet. Presently her father's step was in the
hall and on the stairs. He entered, kissed wife and child, and sat down
with a look first of care and fatigue, and then a proud smile.

"Well, Launcelot's elected."

A solemn defiance came about his mouth, but on his brow was dejection
and distress.

"You know, Rose," he said, "that for myself, I don't care."

She made no reply.

He leaned on the mantlepiece. "My heart bleeds for our people! All they
ask is the God-given right to a pure government. Their petition is
spurned! Rose,"--tears shone in his eyes--"I this day saw the sabres and
bayonets of the government of which Washington was once the head,
shielding the scum of the earth while it swarmed up and voted honor and
virtue out of office!" The handkerchief he snatched from his pocket
brought out three or four written papers. He cast them upon the fire.
One, under a chair, he overlooked. Barbara got it later--just the thing
to carry in her reticule when she went calling on hersel