n, "How are you, Mr. Hicks? Will you go up at once
and tell my grandson to pack his things and come straight down. As soon as
the horses are rested we must start back again."

With visible perturbation Jack looked from the coach to the tavern door,
and stood awkwardly scraping his feet upon the road.

"I--I'll go up with all the pleasure in life, mum," he stammered; "but I
don't reckon thar's no use--he--he's gone."

"Gone?" cried the aghast old lady; and Betty rested her hand upon the
wheel.

"Big Abel, he's gone, too," went on Jack, gaining courage from the
accustomed sound of his own drawl. "Mr. Dan tried his best to git away
without him--but Lord, Lord, the sense that nigger's got. Why, his marster
might as well have tried to give his own skin the slip--"

"Where did they go?" sharply put in the old lady. "Don't mumble your words,
speak plainly, if you please."

"He wouldn't tell me, mum; I axed him, but he wouldn't say. A letter came
last night, and this morning at sunup they were off--Mr. Dan in front, and
Big Abel behind with the bundle on his shoulder. They walked to
Leicestersburg, that's all I know, mum."

"Let me get inside," said Betty, quickly. Her face had gone white, but she
thanked Jack when he picked up the shawl she dropped, and went steadily
into the coach. "We may as well go back," she added with a little laugh.

Mrs. Lightfoot threw an anxious look into her face.

"We must consider the horses, my dear," she responded. "Mr. Hicks, will you
see that the horses are well fed and watered. Let them take their time."

"Oh, I forgot the horses," returned Betty apologetically, and patiently sat
down with her arm leaning in the window. There was a smile on her lips, and
she stared with bright eyes at the oak trees and the children playing among
the acorns.

XIV

THE HUSH BEFORE THE STORM

The autumn crept into winter; the winter went by, short and fitful, and the
spring unfolded slowly. With the milder weather the mud dried in the roads,
and the Major and the Governor went daily into Leicesterburg. The younger
man had carried his oratory and his influence into the larger cities of the
state, and he had come home, at the end of a month of speech-making, in a
fervour of almost boyish enthusiasm.

"I pledge my word for it, Julia," he had declared to his wife, "it will
take more than a Republican President to sever Virginia from the Union--in
fact, I'm inclined to think that it will take a