nquired more coldly
about the child's mother, of whom they spoke with greater warmth when
they learned that she was dead. They hung breathless on Warwick's
words as he related briefly the story of his life since he had left,
years before, the house behind the cedars--how with a stout heart and
an abounding hope he had gone out into a seemingly hostile world, and
made fortune stand and deliver. His story had for the women the charm
of an escape from captivity, with all the thrill of a pirate's tale.
With the whole world before him, he had remained in the South, the land
of his fathers, where, he conceived, he had an inalienable birthright.
By some good chance he had escaped military service in the Confederate
army, and, in default of older and more experienced men, had
undertaken, during the rebellion, the management of a large estate,
which had been left in the hands of women and slaves. He had filled
the place so acceptably, and employed his leisure to such advantage,
that at the close of the war he found himself--he was modest enough to
think, too, in default of a better man--the husband of the orphan
daughter of the gentleman who had owned the plantation, and who had
lost his life upon the battlefield. Warwick's wife was of good family,
and in a more settled condition of society it would not have been easy
for a young man of no visible antecedents to win her hand. A year or
two later, he had taken the oath of allegiance, and had been admitted
to the South Carolina bar. Rich in his wife's right, he had been able
to practice his profession upon a high plane, without the worry of
sordid cares, and with marked success for one of his age.

"I suppose," he concluded, "that I have got along at the bar, as
elsewhere, owing to the lack of better men. Many of the good lawyers
were killed in the war, and most of the remainder were disqualified;
while I had the advantage of being alive, and of never having been in
arms against the government. People had to have lawyers, and they gave
me their business in preference to the carpet-baggers. Fortune, you
know, favors the available man."

His mother drank in with parted lips and glistening eyes the story of
his adventures and the record of his successes. As Rena listened, the
narrow walls that hemmed her in seemed to draw closer and closer, as
though they must crush her. Her brother watched her keenly. He had
been talking not only to inform the women, but with a deeper pu