come back to the Court. So far, we have been
wretched neighbors. We shall insist upon his dining with us, just to
show that there's no ill-feeling," he added, smiling. "Now, no excuses."

"Thank you, but I never go out," Mr. Brown answered. "I have not even
any clothes here. So----"

"Please come, Mr. Brown," she said softly.

He flashed a sudden glance at her from his dark eyes, which brought the
color streaming into her cheeks. Fortunately, twilight was commencing to
fall, and she was standing a little back in the shadow of the
plantation.

"If Miss Thurwell wishes it," he said, in a tone of a man who offers
himself to lead a forlorn hope, "it is settled. I will come."

CHAPTER IX

MR. BROWN DINES AT THE COURT

Both to him and to her there was something strangely unreal in the
little banquet to which they three--Mr. Thurwell, his daughter, and his
tenant--sat down that evening. For many months afterwards, until,
indeed, after the culmination of the tragedy in which she was the
principal moving figure, Helen Thurwell looked back upon that night with
strangely mingled feelings. It was the dawn of a new era in her
existence, a fact which she never doubted, although she struggled vainly
against it. And to him it was like a sudden transition into fairyland.
The long years of lonely life and rigorous asceticism through which he
had passed had been a period of no ordinary self-denial. Instinctively
and with his whole nature the man was an artist. His homely fare,
ill-cooked and ill-served among dreary surroundings, had for long been a
horror to him. Whatever his reasons for such absolute isolation had
been, they had sprung from no actual delight in rough living or
non-appreciation of the refinements of civilized society. He realized to
the full extent the sybaritic pleasures which now surrounded him. The
white tablecloth flaming with daintily modeled plate and cut glass, the
brilliant coloring of the scarlet and yellow flowers, the aromatic
perfume of the chrysanthemums mingling with the faint scent of exotics,
the luscious fruits, and the softly shaded table lights which threw a
rich glow over the lovely face opposite to him--all these things had
their own peculiar effect in the shape of a certain subtle exhilaration
which was not slow to show itself. With scarcely an effort he threw off
the old mask of reserve, with all the little awkwardnesses and
gaucheries which it had entailed, and appeared as the shad