flock,
and the old man lifted his voice in tremulous invocation. The prayer was
long. But before there were signs of it ending, the step for which so
many an ear was strained had been heard. Men were groaning, "God be
praised!" and "Hallelujah!" Fannie's eyes were wet, tears were welling
through Barbara's fingers, mourners were coming up both aisles, and John
March was kneeling in the anxious seat.

XLIII.

ST. VALENTINE'S DAY

One morning some six weeks after New Year's eve Garnet's carriage wheels
dripped water and mud as his good horses dragged them slowly into the
borders of Suez. The soft, moist winds of February were ruffling the
turbid waters of Turkey Creek and the swollen flood of the Swanee. A
hint of new green brightened every road-side, willows were full of
yellow light, and a pink and purple flush answered from woods to
fence-row, from fence-row to woods, across and across the three
counties.

"This pike's hardly a pike at all since the railroad's started," said
the Major, more to himself than to Barbara and Johanna; for these were
the two rear occupants of the carriage.

"Barb, I got a letter from Fair last night. You did too, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"He'll be here next week. He says he can't stop with us this time."

Barbara was silent, and felt the shy, care-taking glance of her maid.
Garnet spoke again, in the guarded tone she knew so well.

"I reckon you understand he's only coming to see if he'll take stock in
this land company we're getting up, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Doe he know you're going to spend these two weeks at Halliday's before
you go North?"

"I think he does."

The questioner turned enough to make a show of frowning solicitude.
"What's the matter with you this morning? sad at the thought of leaving
home?"

"No, sir"--the speaker smiled meditatively--"we only don't hit on a
subject of interest to both."

The father faced to front again and urged the horses. He even raised the
whip, but let it droop. Then he turned sharply and drew his daughter's
glance. "Is Fair going to stay with John March?"

They sat gaze to gaze while their common blood surged up to his brows
and more gradually suffused her face. Without the stir of an eyelash she
let her lips part enough to murmur, "Yes."

Before her word was finished Garnet's retort was bursting from him,
"Thanks to you, you intermeddling----" He was cut short by the lurch of
the carriage into a hole. It flounced