red
valor evaporated before the fire of her husband's wrath, and she dared
not confess the secret she had withheld during all their married life.
She did, however, intercede for Abner, venturing her conviction that in
birth and character he was fit to wed with Betsy. But the poor creature
was so cowed by her habitual awe of her lord and master, and by his
present irascible temper, as well as by the burden of her own yet
unconfessed secret, that the stammering, incoherent tale she told of
the two John Logans, of the time and place of Mary Hollis' death, and
of Abner's being Andrew Hite's legal heir, was anything but convincing.
Her feeble attempt at explanation and intercession, instead of
softening the obstinate Major, only wrought him up to a still higher
pitch of exasperation.

Mrs. Gilcrest's effort to enlighten her husband having failed, young
Logan engaged an attorney, through whom the lord of Oaklands was
perforce convinced of Abner's legitimacy and right to the Hite
possessions.

But there still remained in the secret drawer of the Major's escritoire
those documentary proofs against "A. D.'s" political integrity, and in
the Major's mind those convictions of the young man's connection with
dangerous Spanish intrigues. More than that, there was the Major's
ingrained obstinacy and his aversion to confessing himself in the
wrong. So that, although he was not unduly covetous of the Hite
inheritance, and although, had he not been so harassed and imbittered
by his daughter's defiance, he would have rejoiced that Abner Logan was
well born and prosperous, just now he was in a humor the reverse of
rejoicing or yielding. Therefore his opposition to Betsy's suitor was
as firm as ever; and the two lovers appeared as far as ever from the
attainment of their hopes.

CHAPTER XXIX.

AUNT DILSEY TO THE RESCUE

"Send Miss Betsy to me at once," was Gilcrest's order to a negro girl
who was sweeping the hall one cold, snowy morning in December, as he
strode into the house, whip in hand, clad in overcoat and riding-boots.
"Where's your mistress?"

"In the settin'-room, marstah."

"Then send Miss Betsy to me there. Put down that broom, and go at
once--move quickly, nigger!" With a grim look he went into the
sitting-room, where his wife was dawdling over her tambour frame; and
Polly sped up the stairs. In the upper hall she encountered Aunt
Dilsey.

"Whut's the mattah, gal?" asked the old negress. "You look lak a rabb