would have to clear out
some day--that you were only a low upstart anyway, with no real claim on
the Ruthvens."

"He said that, did he?" Jack drew a long breath and set his teeth hard.
"Did he try to prove his words?"

"I didn't give him a chance. I was so upset I merely told him I didn't
believe him, and came away."

"And where did he go?"

"He started off toward town."

"When he comes back I'm going to find out the truth of this matter."

"I don't believe his story, Jack, and I wouldn't worry myself about it."

"But supposing it were true, Darcy--that I was a--a--nobody, as he
says?"

"I should think just as much of you," answered the other lad quickly.

"Thank you for that."

"St. John always talks too much--don't mind him."

"But I shall. If he tells the truth I want to know it--and, if not, I
shall take steps to make him take back the stories he is circulating."

"It's a wonder he hasn't gone to the war. Why doesn't he enlist, like
the rest of the young men in this neighborhood?"

"He says he must stay with his mother. But the real reason is, I think,
that he is a coward."

"Perhaps you are right. I remember once, when there was a cry of mad dog
in the town, he hid in a warehouse and was almost scared to death."

"Yes, I remember that, and I remember, too, when Big Bill, the slave,
ran away and threatened to kill the first white man he met, St. John hid
in the mansion and didn't come outside the door for a week."

"Such a coward wouldn't be above circulating falsehoods."

"I wish I knew just where to find him. I would have it out with him in
short order," concluded Jack.

The youth was in no humor for further fishing and soon wound up his line
and started for home.

As he passed along over the plantation road his thoughts were busy.
Could there be any truth in what St. John Ruthven had said? Was he
really a nobody, with no claim upon the lady he called mother and the
girl he looked upon as his sister? A chill passed down his backbone,
and, as he came in sight of the stately old mansion that he called home,
he paused to wipe the cold perspiration from his forehead.

"I will go to mother and ask her the truth," he told himself. "I can't
wait to find out in any other way." Yet the thought of facing that
kind-hearted lady was not a pleasant one. How should he begin to tell
her of what was in his mind?

"Is my mother in?" he asked of the maid whom he met in the hallway.

"No, Massah Jack, sh