le Northern accent, the light came
quickly to his eyes. Tom gave his horse's bridle to the boy, who
promptly transferred himself to the better saddle, and began to lead
the mule instead.

"I have been charged with an errand of friendship," said Tom. "I
believe that you and my grandfather were at Harvard together." Tom
looked boyish and eager and responsive to hospitality at this moment.
He was straight and trim, like a Frenchman. Colonel Bellamy was much
the taller of the two, even with his bent shoulders and relaxed
figure.

"I see the resemblance to your grandfather, sir. I bid you welcome to
Fairford," said the Colonel. "Your visit is a great kindness."

They walked on together, speaking ceremoniously of the season and of
the shooting and Tom's journey, until they left the woods and
overgrown avenue at the edge of what had once been a fine lawn, with
clusters of huge oaks; but these were shattered by war and more or
less ruined. The lopped trunks still showed the marks of fire and
shot; some had put out a fresh bough or two, but most of the ancient
trees stood for their own monuments, rain-bleached and gaunt. At the
other side of the wide lawn, against young woodland and a glimpse of
the river, were the four great chimneys which had been seen from the
highroad. There was no dwelling in sight at the moment, and Tom stole
an apprehensive look at the grave face of his companion. It appeared
as if he were being led to the habitation of ghosts, as if he were
purposely to be confronted with the desolation left in the track of
Northern troops. It was not so long since the great war that these
things could be forgotten.

The Colonel, however, without noticing the ruins in any way, turned
toward the right as he neared them, and passing a high fragment of
brick wall topped by a marble ball or two--which had been shot at for
marks--and passing, just beyond, some huge clumps of box, they came to
a square brick building with a rude wooden addition at one side, and
saw some tumble-down sheds a short distance beyond this, with a negro
cabin.

They came to the open door. "This was formerly the billiard-room. Your
grandfather would have kept many memories of it," said the host
simply. "Will you go in, Mr. Burton?" And Tom climbed two or three
perilous wooden steps and entered, to find himself in a most homelike
and charming place. There was a huge fireplace opposite the door, with
a thin whiff of blue smoke going up, a few old