le
the worse for age, was finding his way eastward along the sandy roads.
The country was full of color; the sassafras and gum trees and oaks
were all ablaze with red and yellow. Now and then he caught a glimpse
of a sail on one of the wide reaches of the river which lay to the
northward; now and then he passed a broken gateway or the ruins of a
cabin. He carried a light gun before him across the saddle, and a
game-bag hung slack and empty at his shoulder except for a single
plump partridge in one corner, which had whirred up at the right
moment out of a vine-covered thicket. Something small and heavy in his
coat pocket seemed to correspond to the bird, and once or twice he
unconsciously lifted it in the hollow of his hand. The day itself, and
a sense of being on the road to fulfill his mission, a sense of
unending leisure and satisfaction under that lovely hazy sky, seemed
to leave no place for impatience or thought of other things. He rode
slowly along, with his eye on the roadside coverts, letting the horse
take his own gait, except when a ragged negro boy, on an unwilling,
heavy-footed mule, slyly approached and struck the dallying steed from
behind. It was past the middle of the October afternoon.

"'Mos' thar now, Cun'l," said the boy at last, eagerly. "See them
busted trees pas' thar, an' chimblies? You tu'n down nax' turn; ride
smart piece yet, an' you come right front of ol' Mars Bell'my's house.
See, he comin' 'long de road now. Yas, 'tis Mars Bell'my shore, an' 's
gun."

Tom had been looking across the neglected fields with compassion, and
wondering if such a plantation could ever be brought back to its days
of prosperity. As the boy spoke he saw the tall chimneys in the
distance, and then, a little way before him in the shadow of some
trees, a stately figure that slowly approached. He hurriedly
dismounted, leading his horse until he met the tall old man, who
answered his salutation with much dignity. There was something royal
and remote from ordinary men in his silence after the first words of
courteous speech.

"Yas, sir; that's Mars Bell'my, sir," whispered the boy on the mule,
reassuringly, and the moment of hesitation was happily ended.

"I was on my way to call upon you, Colonel Bellamy; my name is
Burton," said the younger man.

"Will you come with me to the house?" said the old gentleman, putting
out his hand cordially a second time; and though he had frowned
slightly at first at the unmistakab