vid imagination, and
when I came here to play I used to imagine I could see them, Valiant so
handsome--his nickname was Beauty Valiant--and Sassoon. How awful to
come to such a lovely spot, just because of a young man's quarrel, and
to--to kill one's friend! I used to wonder if the sky was blue that day
and whether poor Sassoon looked up at it when he took his place; and
whom else he thought of that last moment."

"Had he parents?"

"No, neither of them had, I believe. But there might have been some one
else,--some one he cared for and who cared for him. That was the last
duel ever fought in Virginia. Dueling was a dreadful custom. I'm glad
it's gone. Aren't you?"

"Yes," he said slowly, "it was a thing that cut two ways. Perhaps
Valiant, if he could have had his choice afterward, would rather have
been lying there that morning than Sassoon."

"He must have suffered, too," she agreed, "or he wouldn't have exiled
himself as he did. I used to wonder if it was a love-quarrel--whether
they could have been in love with the same woman."

"But why should he go away?"

"I can't imagine, unless she had really loved the other man. If so, she
couldn't have borne seeing Valiant afterward." She paused with a little
laugh. "But then," she said, "it may have been nothing so romantic.
Perhaps they quarreled over cards or differed as to whose horse was the
better jumper. Valiant's grandfather, who was known as Devil-John, is
said to have called a man out because he rode past him on the wrong
side. Our ancestors in Virginia, I'm afraid, didn't stand on ceremony
when they felt uppish."

He did not smile. He was looking out once more over the luminous stretch
of fields, his side-face toward her. Curious and painful questions were
running through his brain. With an effort, he thrust these back and
recalled his attention to what she was saying.

"You wonder, I suppose, that we feel as we do toward these old estates,
and set store by them, and--yes, and brag of them insufferably as we do.
But it's in our blood. We love them as the English do their ancient
manors. They have made our legends and our history. And the history of
Virginia--"

She broke off with a shrug and, more himself now, he finished for her:
"--isn't exactly a trifling part of the history of these United States.
You are right."

"You Northerners think we are desperately conceited," she smiled, "but
it's true. We're still as proud of our land, and its old, old plac