came to Crompton Place, and they guessed her
mother was one, and nobody knew anything about her anyway. There was a
fierce fight in which Dora came off victorious, with a scratch or two
on her face and a torn dress. That afternoon the Colonel was confronted
by what seemed a little maniac, demanding to know if her mother was
black, and if she had lived only with negroes until she came to
Crompton.

"No, to both questions, and never let me hear another word on the
subject as long as you live," was the Colonel's answer, given with a
sternness before which the girl always quailed.

She was afraid of the Colonel, and kept aloof from him as much as
possible, rarely seeing him except at meal times, and then saying very
little to him and never dreaming how closely he watched her, attributing
every pecularity, and she had many, to the Harris taint, of which he had
a mortal terror. But however much or little there might have been of the
Harris blood in her, the few who knew her found her charming, as she
grew from childhood into a beautiful girl of eighteen, apparently
forgetful of everything pertaining to her Florida home. The doll-house,
with all the expensive toys bought for her, had been banished to a room
in the attic, and with them finally went Judy and Mandy Ann. The red
cloak she seemed to prize more than all her possessions. It was more in
keeping with her surroundings than Judy, and she often wrapped it around
her as she sat upon the piazza, when the day was cool, and sometimes
wore it on her shoulders to breakfast in the morning. Once she asked the
Colonel where it came from, and he answered "Savannah," and went on
reading his paper with a scowl on his forehead which warned her she was
on dangerous ground. He was not fond of questions, and she did not often
trouble him with them, but lived her silent life, increasing in beauty
with every year, and guarded so closely from contact with the outer
world that she scarcely had an intimate acquaintance.

It was not the Colonel's wish that she should have any. Indeed, he
hardly knew what he did want. He was aristocratic, and exclusive, and
wished to make her so, and keep her from contact with the common herd,
as he secretly designated the people around him. He knew she was
beautiful, with an imperiousness of manner she took from him, and a
sweet yielding graciousness she took from her mother. Sometimes a smile,
or turn of her head, or kindling in her eyes, would bring the de