r you must have sons and daughters,
that you may inherit the promise of God's blessing which is for you and
_your children_. Then your family must have a home, but not in Hatton
Hall--not just yet. There cannot be two mistresses in one house, can
there?"

"No, but by my father's will and his oft-repeated desire, this house is
your home, mother, as long as you live. I am going to build my own house
on the hill, facing the east, in front of the Ash plantation."

"You are wise. Our chimneys will smoke all the better for being a little
apart."

"And you, my mother, are lady and mistress of Hatton Hall as long as you
live. I will suffer no one to infringe on your rights." Then he stooped
his handsome head to her lifted face and kissed it with great
tenderness; and she turned away with tears in her eyes, but a happy
smile on her lips. And John was glad that this question had been raised
and settled, so quickly, and so lovingly.

CHAPTER III

LOVE VENTURES IN

Man's life is all a mist, and in the dark
Our fortunes meet us.

John had been thinking about building his own home for some time and he
resolved to begin it at once. Yet this ancient Hatton Hall, with its
large, low rooms, its latticed windows and beautifully carved and
polished oak panelings, was very dear to him. Every room was full of
stories of Cavaliers and Puritans. The early followers of George Fox had
there found secret shelter and hospitality. John Wesley had preached in
its great dining-room, and Charles Wesley filled all its spaces and
corridors with the lyrical cry of his wonderful hymns. There were
harmless ghosts in its silent chambers, or walking in the pale moonlight
up the stairs or about the flower garden. No one was afraid of them;
they only gave a tender and romantic character to the surroundings. If
Mrs. Hatton felt them in a room, she curtsied and softly withdrew, and
John, on more than one occasion, had asked, "Why depart, dear ghosts?
There is room enough for us all in the old house."

But for all this, and all that, it did not answer the spirit of John's
nature and daily life. He was essentially a man of his century. He loved
large proportions and abundance of light and fresh air, and he dreamed
of a home of palatial dimensions with white Ionic pillars and wide
balconies and large rooms made sunny by windows tall enough for men of
his stature to use as doors if they so desired. It was to be white as
snow, with the Ash