f ready-made clothing.

For a time he sat in the dingy parlor of the place and listened to the
jarring talk of the commercial travelers. Already Galavia and the months
which had been, seemed receding into an improbable dream, but the misery
of their bequeathing was poignantly real.

He rose impatiently and made his way to the livery-stable, where he
hired a saddle horse. His idea was merely to be alone. The reins hung on
the neck of his spiritless mount and the roads he went were the roads it
took of its own unguided selection.

Suddenly Benton looked up. He was in a lane between overarching trees; a
lane which he remembered. Off to the side were the hills bristling with
pines, raised against the sky like the lances of marching troops. It was
the road he had ridden with her on that day when her horse fell at the
fence--and there, on the side of the hill, stood a dilapidated cabin:
the cabin upon whose porch he had poured water over her hands from a
gourd dipper.

It was only the end of September, but an early frost had flushed the
woods and hillsides into a hint of the crimson and gold they were soon
to wear in more profligate splendor. The fragrant, blue mist of wood
smoke drifted over the fields at the foot of the knobs. The hills were
seen through a wash of purple. From somewhere to the far left drifted
the mellowed music of fox-hounds. Riding slowly, the man came at length
to the cabin gate.

The same farmer sat as indolently now as then, on the top step. The
setter dog started up to growl as the horseman dismounted.

The man did not recognize him, but the proffer of Benton's cigar-case
proved a sufficient credential, and a discussion of the weather appeared
a satisfactory reason for remaining. It was only a verbal and logical
step from weather to crops, and in ten minutes the visitor was being
shown over the place. When the round of cribs and stables was completed
it was time for the host to feed his stock, and, saying good-by at the
barn, he left Benton to make his way alone to the cabin. Passing through
the house from the back, the man halted suddenly and with abrupt
wonderment at the front door.

For upright and slim, with a small gauntleted hand resting on one of the
rude posts of the porch, gazing off intently into the coloring west,
stood an unmistakable figure in a black riding habit. Incredulous,
suddenly stunned under the cumulative suspense of the past three
months, he stood hesitant. Then the fig