ery dark. The restless and
multitudinous flicker of the fireflies but emphasized the shadow, and
the stars seemed few and dim. It was near midnight, and the wide
landscape below the mountain lay in darkness, save for one distant knoll
where lights were burning. That was Fontenoy, and Rand, looking toward
it with knitted brows, wondered why the house was so brightly lighted at
such an hour. In another moment the road descended, the heavy trees shut
out the view of the valley, and with very much indeed upon his mind, he
thought no more of Fontenoy. It was utterly necessary to him to find a
remedy for the sting, keen and intolerable, which he bore with him from
Monticello. He felt the poison as he rode, and his mind searched, in
passion and in haste, for the sovereign antidote. He found it and
applied it, and the rankling pain grew less. Now more than ever was it
necessary to go on. Now more than ever he must commit himself without
reserve to the strong current. When it had borne him to a fair and far
country, to kingship, sway, empire, and vast renown, then would this
night be justified!

He left the mountain, and, riding rapidly, soon found himself upon the
road to Roselands. It was also the Greenwood road. Between the two
plantations lay a deep wood, and as he emerged from this, he saw before
him in the dim starlight a horseman, coming towards him from Roselands.
"Is that you, Mocket?" he called.

The other drew rein. "It is Ludwell Cary. Good-evening, Mr. Rand. I have
just left Roselands."

"Indeed?" exclaimed Rand. "May I ask--"

"I came from Fontenoy at the request of Colonel Churchill. Mrs.
Churchill fell suddenly very ill to-night. They think she will not last
many hours, and she asks continually for her niece. Colonel Churchill
sent me to beg Mrs. Rand to come without delay to Fontenoy. I have
delivered my message, and she but waits your return to Roselands--"

"I will hurry on," said Rand. "Be so good as to tell Colonel Churchill
that Joab will bring her in the chaise--Mammy Chloe with her. I am sorry
for your news. Accept, too, our thanks for the trouble to which you have
put yourself--"

"It is nothing," answered Cary. "My brother and I chanced to be at
Fontenoy. Mrs. Rand is much distressed, and I'll detain you no longer--"

He bowed, touched his horse, and rode into the wood. Rand turned in his
saddle and looked after him for a long moment, then shook his reins,
broke into a gallop, and passed present