this a sitting-room and dining-room overlooked
the old-fashioned garden with its detached kitchen and inevitable negro
cabin. It was a close evening; there were dark clouds coming up in the
direction of the turnpike road, but the leaves of the ailantus hung
heavy and motionless in the hush of an impending storm. The sparks of
lazily floating fireflies softly expanded and went out in the gloom of
the black foliage, or in the dark recesses of the office, whose windows
were widely open, and whose lights Courtland had extinguished when he
brought his armchair to the portico for coolness. One of these sparks
beyond the fence, although alternately glowing and paling, was still so
persistent and stationary that Courtland leaned forward to watch it more
closely, at which it disappeared, and a voice from the street said:--

"Is that you, Courtland?"

"Yes. Come in, won't you?"

The voice was Champney's, and the light was from his cigar. As he
opened the gate and came slowly up the steps of the portico the usual
hesitation of his manner seemed to have increased. A long sigh trilled
the limp leaves of the ailantus and as quickly subsided. A few heavy
perpendicular raindrops crashed and spattered through the foliage like
molten lead.

"You've just escaped the shower," said Courtland pleasantly. He had not
seen Champney since they parted in the cemetery six weeks before.

"Yes!--I--I thought I'd like to have a little talk with you, Courtland,"
said Champney. He hesitated a moment before the proffered chair, and
then added, with a cautious glance towards the street, "Hadn't we better
go inside?"

"As you like. But you'll find it wofully hot. We're quite alone here;
there's nobody in the house, and this shower will drive any loungers
from the street." He was quite frank, although their relations to each
other in regard to Miss Sally were still so undefined as to scarcely
invite his confidence.

Howbeit Champney took the proffered chair and the glass of julep which
Courtland brought him.

"You remember my speaking to you of Dumont?" he said hesitatingly, "Miss
Dows' French cousin, you know? Well--he's coming here: he's got property
here--those three houses opposite the Court House. From what I hear,
he's come over with a lot of new-fangled French ideas on the nigger
question--rot about equality and fraternity, don't you know--and the
highest education and highest offices for them. You know what the
feeling is here already? Yo