od could have been happier than mine, and throughout it, ever
present with me, were a shadow and a light. The shadow was my Uncle
Grafton. I know not what strange intuition of the child made me think
of him so constantly after that visit he paid us, but often I would wake
from my sleep with his name upon my lips, and a dread at my heart. The
light--need I say?--was Miss Dorothy Manners. Little Miss Dolly was
often at the Hall after that happy week we spent together; and her home,
Wilmot House, was scarce three miles across wood and field by our
plantation roads. I was a stout little fellow enough, and before I was
twelve I had learned to follow to hounds my grandfather's guests on my
pony; and Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Carvel when they shot on the duck points.
Ay, and what may surprise you, my dears, I was given a weak little toddy
off the noggin at night, while the gentlemen stretched their limbs before
the fire, or played at whist or loo Mr. Carvel would have no milksop, so
he said. But he early impressed upon me that moderation was the mark of
a true man, even as excess was that of a weak one.

And so it was no wonder that I frequently found my way to Wilmot House
alone. There I often stayed the whole day long, romping with Dolly at
games of our own invention, and many the time I was sent home after dark
by Mrs. Manners with Jim, the groom. About once in the week Mr. and Mrs.
Manners would bring Dorothy over for dinner or tea at the Hall. She grew
quickly--so quickly that I scarce realized--into a tall slip of a girl,
who could be wilful and cruel, laughing or forgiving, shy or impudent, in
a breath. She had as many moods as the sea. I have heard her entertain
Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Bordley and the ladies, and my grandfather, by the
hour, while I sat by silent and miserable, but proud of her all the same.
Boylike, I had grown to think of her as my possession, tho' she gave me
no reason whatever. I believe I had held my hand over fire for her, at a
word. And, indeed, I did many of her biddings to make me wonder, now,
that I was not killed. It used to please her, Ivie too, to see me go the
round of the windmill, tho' she would cry out after I left the ground.
And once, when it was turning faster than common and Ivie not there to
prevent, I near lost my hold at the top, and was thrown at the bottom
with such force that I lay stunned for a full minute. I opened my eyes
to find her bending over me with such a look of fright and remorse