hinks," stated a surly farmer. "It's what a man
can prove."

"Well, he couldn't prove that if he tried till doomsday!" cried another.
"That's not Lewis Rand's trade!"

"You're right there, Jim," assented the group. "WHEREAS upon the seventh
day of September and on the river road where it is crossed by Indian
Run--"

Upon a September afternoon, clear and fair, full of the ripeness and
strength of the year, the body of Ludwell Cary was given back to the
earth. There was a service at Saint Anne's, after which, carried by
faithful slaves and followed by high and low of the county, he was borne
to the Cary burial-ground at Greenwood. It crowned a low hill at no
great distance from the oaks about the house--a place of peace and
quietness, with bird-haunted trees and a tangle of old flowers. Ludwell
Cary was laid beside Fauquier Cary, the "Dust to dust" was spoken, and
the grave filled in. All mourned who heard the falling earth, and the
negroes wailed aloud, but Fairfax Cary stood like a rock. It was over.
The throng melted away, leaving only the house servants, two or three
old and privileged friends, and the living Cary. The last spoke to the
first, thanked them, and sent them away; then, addressing himself to the
two Churchills and the old minister, asked that he be left alone. They
went, Major Edward turning at once, the others following more slowly He
watched them below the hill-top, then sat down beside the grave that was
so raw and red for all the masking flowers.

At sunset Eli and Major Edward, grey and anxious, watching from the
shadow of the oaks, saw him leave the burying-ground, look back once as
he closed the gate, and come slowly down the hill. When he reached the
house, and, after going to his own room, came down into the library, it
was to find Major Churchill ensconced in an old chair by the western
window, with a book in his hand. He looked up with eyes yet keen and
dark beneath their shaggybrows. "If you'll allow me, Fair, I'll borrow
this Hobbes of yours. It is printed larger than mine, and it has no
damned annotation!"

Major Edward spent the night at Greenwood, and the two played chess
until very late. The next morning, coming stiffly down at an early hour,
he found no host. Fairfax Cary, he discovered on enquiry, had ordered
his horse the night before, and as soon as it was light, had ridden off
alone. Major Churchill passed the morning as best he might. He looked
once from the windows toward the