gaunt, lean figure with its dark, rather tragic-looking
face, that reminded him of the photographs of Edwin Booth as "Hamlet."
Yes, he certainly looked like a world-worn, weary Hamlet who had
recovered with only a slight lameness from Laertes's sword-thrust. The
Judge limped a little from a bullet in his knee. He had fought in the
Southern army when a lad of sixteen. Loring, as he watched the Judge
limping about the house, mused sometimes on what life must have been
like in Virginia when boys of sixteen had gone to war.

The Judge, on his side, returned Loring's liking in full. He quite
exasperated Charlotte by what she called his "real weakness" for the
young man.

"Yes, I've got a mighty soft spot for this Yankee boy," he would admit.
Then he would chuckle wickedly. "But it's nothing to Sophy's," he would
add; "only she don't know it."

Charlotte's more kindly feeling towards Loring did not keep her from
being quite miserable over such possibilities. She thought them only too
likely. She could foresee nothing but unhappiness for Sophy in such a
marriage. Yet she was helpless. Sophy was not the sort of person that
one could "guide." There was nothing for it but to leave her in God's
hands, as the Judge had once suggested. Charlotte was truly religious.
Yet it is strange how hard it is for the truly religious to "leave
things in God's hands." "Putting parcels in the Heavenly post-office,
and jerking at them by the string of prayer," the Judge called it.

Towards the end of November Loring's mother fell ill. He was telegraphed
for. He was very fond of his mother, but the old egotism surged up in
him when he read that she was not in danger, only suffering. He could
not ease her suffering. That was the affair of doctors and trained
nurses. However, he left for New York at once.

VII

Loring was not able to return to Virginia until the middle of January.
He arrived at the Macfarlanes' late in the afternoon, and as soon as
supper was over had Proud Aleck saddled and rode to Sweet-Waters.

The night was wild with wind, but very clear. A newly risen moon tilted
above the eastern woodlands. The wind played madcap games--now leaping
high into the heavens, now rushing low along the earth. The great
half-moon just skimming the dark reach of forest was like a silver sail
bellying in the flaw.

Loring exulted to feel the bay's withers once more between his knees,
and the free countryside about him. He rode at a clip