re," she said.
"Remorse and the inevitable pay-up for earthly transgression seem to be
the leading subjects. There is one in the Duval lot--the Duvals from
whom Mr. Croyden got Clarendon, you know--and I never have been able to
understand just what it means. It is erected to the memory of one
Robert Parmenter, and has cut in the slab the legend: 'He feared nor
man, nor god, nor devil,' and below it, a man on his knees making
supplication to one standing over him. If he feared nor man, nor god,
nor devil, why should he be imploring mercy from any one?"

"Do you know who Parmenter was?" said Macloud.

"No--but I presume a connection of the family, from having been buried
with them."

"You read his letter only last evening--his letter to Marmaduke
Duval."

"His letter to Marmaduke Duval!" she repeated. "I didn't read any----"

"Robert Parmenter is the pirate who buried the treasure on Greenberry
Point," he interrupted.

Then, suddenly, a light broke in on her.

"I see!--I didn't look at the name signed to the letter. And the
cutting on the tombstone----?"

"Is a victim begging mercy from him," said Macloud. "I like that
Marmaduke Duval--there's something fine in a man, in those times,
bringing the old buccaneer over from Annapolis and burying him beside
the place where he, himself, some day would rest.--That is
friendship!"

"And that is like the Duvals!" said she. "It was a sad day in Hampton
when the Colonel died."

"He left a good deputy," Macloud replied. "Croyden is well-born and
well-bred (the former does not always comprehend the latter, these
days), and of Southern blood on his mother's side."

"Which hasn't hurt him with us!" she smiled. "We are a bit clannish,
still."

"Delighted to hear you confess it! I've got a little of it myself."

"Southern blood?"

He nodded. "Mine doesn't go so far South, however, as Croyden's--only,
to Virginia."

"I knew it! I knew there was some reason for my liking you!" she
laughed.

"Can I find any other reason?"

"Than your Southern ancestors?--isn't that enough?"

"Not if there be a means to increase it."

"Southern blood is never satisfied with _some_ things--it always wants
more!"

"Is the disposition to want more, in Southerners, confined to the male
sex?" he laughed.

"In _some things_--yes, unquestionably yes!" she retorted. Then changed
the subject. "Has Mr. Croyden told you of his experience, last
evening?"

"With the stranger, yes?"

"Do