d seared it. And to this day I tremble
with anger as I think of them. The scene comes before me: the sky, the
darkened portico, and Nicholas running after his mother crying: "Oh,
mamma, how could you! How could you!"

Mr. Mason bent over me in compassion, and smoothed my hair.

"David," said he, in a thick voice, "you are a brave boy, David. You
will need all your courage now, my son. May God keep your nature sweet!"

He led me gently into the arbor and told me how, under Captain Baskin,
the detachment had been ambushed by the Cherokees; and how my father,
with Ensign Calhoun and another, had been killed, fighting bravely.
The rest of the company had cut their way through and reached the
settlements after terrible hardships.

I was left an orphan.

I shall not dwell here on the bitterness of those moments. We have all
known sorrows in our lives,--great sorrows. The clergyman was a wise
man, and did not strive to comfort me with words. But he sat there
under the leaves with his arm about me until a blinding bolt split the
blackness of the sky and the thunder rent our ears, and a Caribbean
storm broke over Temple Bow with all the fury of the tropics. Then he
led me through the drenching rain into the house, nor heeded the wet
himself on his Sunday coat.

A great anger stayed me in my sorrow. I would no longer tarry under Mrs.
Temple's roof, though the world without were a sea or a desert. The
one resolution to escape rose stronger and stronger within me, and I
determined neither to eat nor sleep until I had got away. The thought
of leaving Nick was heavy indeed; and when he ran to me in the dark hall
and threw his arms around me, it needed all my strength to keep from
crying aloud.

"Davy," he said passionately, "Davy, you mustn't mind what she says.
She never means anything she says--she never cares for anything save her
pleasure. You and I will stay here until we are old enough to run away
to Kentucky. Davy! Answer me, Davy!"

I could not, try as I would. There were no words that would come with
honesty. But I pulled him down on the mahogany settle near the door
which led into the back gallery, and there we sat huddled together in
silence, while the storm raged furiously outside and the draughts banged
the great doors of the house. In the lightning flashes I saw Nick's
face, and it haunted me afterwards through many years of wandering. On
it was written a sorrow for me greater than my own sorrow. For God had
g