mellow old moon flooded a glow in front of me, through the big
front door, as I opened it, and then hastened to pour into the wide
windows as I threw back the shutters.

Logs lay ready for lighting in the wide fireplace at the end of the long
room, and Father's tobacco jar gleamed a reflected moonlight from its
pewter sides from the tall mantel-shelf. The old hooks melted into the
dusk of their cases along the wall, and the portrait of Grandfather
Shelby lost its fierce gaze and became benign from its place between the
windows.

I was being welcomed to the home of my fathers, with a soft dusk that
was as still and sweet as the grave. Sweet for those that want it; but I
didn't. Suddenly, I thrilled as alive as any terror-stricken woman that
ever found herself alone anywhere on any other edge of the world, and
then as suddenly found myself in a complete condition of fright
prostration, crouched on my own threshold. I was frightened at the dark,
and could not even cry. Then almost immediately, while I crouched
quivering in every nerve I seemed to hear a man's voice say
comfortingly:

"You don't need to be frightened."

Courageously I lifted my eyes and looked down between the old lilac
bushes, and saw just what I expected I would, a tall, gray figure,
pacing slowly up and down the road. Then it was that fear came into me,
stiffened my muscles and strengthened my soul--fear of myself and my own
conclusions about destiny and all things pertaining thereto.

I never want to go through such another hour as I spent putting things
in order in Father's room, which opens off the living-room, so I could
go to bed by candle-light in the bed in which he and I were both born.
I wanted to sleep there, and didn't even open any other part of the
grim old house.

And when I put out the candle and lay in the high, old four-post bed, I
again felt as small as I really am, and I was in danger of a bad
collapse from self-depreciation when my humor came to the rescue. I
might just as well have gone on and slept between Henrietta and the
wall, as was becoming my feminine situation, for here my determination
to assert my masculine privileges was keeping a real man doing sentry
duty up and down a moonlight road all night--and I wanted it.

"After this, James Hardin, you can consider yourself safe from any of my
attentions or intentions," I laughed to myself, as I turned my face into
the pillow, that was faintly scented from the lavender in