learing stared him in the face, shutting out everything from
his vision, except a long seat directly in front of him, on which
several little girls whose feet could not touch the ground were fast
asleep, their heads falling over upon each other, and the last one
resting upon the arm of the settee. It was a pretty picture, and stirred
in him feelings he had never experienced before. He would do something
for the children, expiatory, he said to himself, as he sat down,
thinking he ought to be the proudest and happiest of men to have the
town called for him, and to stand so high in the esteem of his fellow
citizens. What would they say if they knew what he did, and how cowardly
he was because of his pride. Sometime they must know. It could not be
otherwise, but he would put off the evil day as long as he could, and
when, at last, his guests began to leave, and he went down to bid them
good-night, his head was high with that air of patronage and superiority
natural to him, and which the people tolerated because he was Col.
Crompton.

That night he had a chill--the result of so much excitement to which he
was not accustomed, he said to Peter, who brought him a hot-water bag
and an extra blanket, and would like to have suggested his favorite
remedies, quinine and cholagogue, but experience had taught him wisdom,
and putting down the hot-water bag and blanket, he left the room with a
casual remark about the fine day, and how well everything had passed
off, "only a few men a little boozy," he said, "and three or four
children with bruised heads caused by a fall from a swing."

The lawn-party had been a great success, and the Colonel knew he ought
to be the happiest man in town, whereas he was the most miserable. He
could not hear Mandy Ann's curses as she knelt on her mistress's grave,
nor see her dusky arms swaying in the darkness to emphasize her
maledictions. He didn't know there was a grave, but something weighed
him down with unspeakable remorse. Every incident of his first visit
South came back to him with startling vividness, making him wonder why
God had allowed him to do what he had done. Then he remembered his trip
on the "Hatty," when he kept himself aloof from everybody, with a morbid
fear lest he should see some one who knew him, or had heard of him, or
would meet him again. He remembered the log-house and his supper, when
Mandy Ann served from a dinner-plate, and his napkin was a pocket
handkerchief. He remembere