s for me,
the rhythm of it held me in fascination. Mr. Mason had written it out
and that afternoon read over this part of it to Nick. The quotation I
recall, having since read it many times, and the gist of it was in this
wise:--

"And he said unto him, 'What thou wilt have thou wilt have, despite the
sin of it. Blessed are the stolid, and thrice cursed he who hath
imagination,--for that imagination shall devour him. And in thy life a
sin shall be presented unto thee with a great longing. God, who is in
heaven, gird thee for that struggle, my son, for it will surely come.
That it may be said of you, "Behold, I have refined thee, but not with
silver, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction." Seven days
shalt thou wrestle with thy soul; seven nights shall evil haunt thee, and
how thou shalt come forth from that struggle no man may know.'"

CHAPTER VI

MAN PROPOSES, BUT GOD DISPOSES

A week passed, and another Sunday came,--a Sunday so still and hot and
moist that steam seemed to rise from the heavy trees,--an idle day for
master and servant alike. A hush was in the air, and a presage of we knew
not what. It weighed upon my spirits, and even Nick's, and we wandered
restlessly under the trees, seeking for distraction.

About two o'clock a black line came on the horizon, and slowly crept
higher until it broke into giant, fantastic shapes. Mutterings arose,
but the sun shone hot as ever.

"We're to have a hurricane," said Nick. "I wish we might have it and be
done with it."

At five the sun went under. I remember that Madame was lolling listless
in the garden, daintily arrayed in fine linen, trying to talk to Mr.
Mason, when a sound startled us. It was the sound of swift hoof beats on
the soft drive.

Mrs. Temple got up, an unusual thing. Perchance she was expecting a
message from some of the gentlemen; or else she may well have been tired
of Mr. Mason. Nick and I were before her, and, running through the
house, arrived at the portico in time to see a negro ride up on a horse
covered with lather.

It was the same negro who had fetched me hither from Mr. Lowndes. And
when I saw him my heart stood still lest he had brought news of my
father.

"What's to do, boy?" cried Nicholas to him.

The boy held in his hand a letter with a great red seal.

"Fo' Mistis Temple," he said, and, looking at me queerly, he took off his
cap as he jumped from the horse. Mistress Temple herself having arrived,
he handed h