sically. "It's mighty
curious," he said, "but I can't get it out of my head that it's Beauty
Valiant and Judith that I'm really talking to. Foolish--isn't it?" But
the idea seemed to master him, and presently he began to call Shirley by
her mother's name. An odd youthfulness crept into his eyes; a subtle
paradoxical boyishness. His cheek tinged with color. The deep lines
about his mouth smoothed miraculously out.

"Judith," he whispered, "--you--sure you told me the truth a while ago,
when you said--you said--"

"Yes, yes," Shirley answered, putting her young arm under him, thinking
only to soothe the anxiety that seemed vaguely to thread some vague
hallucination.

He smiled again. "It makes it easier," he said. He looked at Valiant,
his mind seeming to slip farther and farther away. "Beauty," he gasped,
"you didn't go away after all, did you! I dreamed it--I reckon. It'll
be--all right with you both."

He sighed peacefully, and his eyes turned to Shirley's and closed.
"I'm--so glad," he muttered, "so glad I--didn't really do it, Judith. It
would have--been the--only--low-down thing--I--ever did."

The doctor went swiftly to the door and beckoned to Jereboam. "Come in
now, Jerry," he said in a low voice, "quickly."

The old negro fell on his knees by the couch. "Mars' Monty!" he cried.
"Is yo' gwine away en leab ol' Jerry? Is yo'? Mars'?"

The cracked but loving voice struck across the void of the failing
sense. For a last time the major opened his misting eyes.

"Jerry, you--black scoundrel!" he whispered, and Shirley felt his head
grow heavier on her arm, "I reckon it's--about time--to be going--home!"

CHAPTER XLV

RENUNCIATION

The grim posse that gathered in haste that afternoon did not ride far.
Its work had been singularly well done. It brought back to Damory Court,
however, a white bulldog whose broken leg made his would-be joyful bark
trail into a sad whimper as his owner took him into welcoming arms.

Next day the major was carried to his final rest in the myrtled shadow
of St. Andrew's. At the service the old church was crowded to its doors.
Valiant occupied a humble place at one side--the others, he knew, were
older friends than he. The light of the late afternoon came dimly in
through the stained-glass windows and seemed to clothe with subtle
colors the voice of the rector as he read the solemn service. The
responses came brokenly, and there were tears on many faces.

Valiant could s