newly whitened paling, which encircled the
tree's trunk as well as the six graves about it. There was in his face
and manner a sort of impersonal human kindness, well calculated to
engage a diffident and sensitive stranger, standing in dread of
gratuitous benevolence or pity.

"Yes, sir," said the convalescent, and ceased; but the other leaned
against the palings in an attitude of attention, and he felt induced to
add: "I have buried here my father, mother, and two sisters,"--he had
expected to continue in an unemotional tone; but a deep respiration
usurped the place of speech. He stooped quickly to pick up his hat, and,
as he rose again and looked into his listener's face, the respectful,
unobtrusive sympathy there expressed went directly to his heart.

"Victims of the fever," said the Creole with great gravity. "How did
that happen?"

As Frowenfeld, after a moment's hesitation, began to speak, the stranger
let go the bridle of his horse and sat down upon the turf. Joseph
appreciated the courtesy and sat down, too; and thus the ice was broken.

The immigrant told his story; he was young--often younger than his
years--and his listener several years his senior; but the Creole, true
to his blood, was able at any time to make himself as young as need be,
and possessed the rare magic of drawing one's confidence without seeming
to do more than merely pay attention. It followed that the story was
told in full detail, including grateful acknowledgment of the goodness
of an unknown friend, who had granted this burial-place on condition
that he should not be sought out for the purpose of thanking him.

So a considerable time passed by, in which acquaintance grew with
delightful rapidity.

"What will you do now?" asked the stranger, when a short silence had
followed the conclusion of the story.

"I hardly know. I am taken somewhat by surprise. I have not chosen a
definite course in life--as yet. I have been a general student, but have
not prepared myself for any profession; I am not sure what I shall be."

A certain energy in the immigrant's face half redeemed this childlike
speech. Yet the Creole's lips, as he opened them to reply, betrayed
amusement; so he hastened to say:

"I appreciate your position, Mr. Frowenfeld,--excuse me, I believe you
said that was your father's name. And yet,"--the shadow of an amused
smile lurked another instant about a corner of his mouth,--"if you would
understand me kindly I would say,