r indulgence, he
had set up the plea of vague obligations pressing upon him, some old
debt that he was striving to wipe out and from which he would soon be
freed; and then, no longer within the tightening grasp of merciless
scoundrels, he would gratefully devote the proceeds of his energies to
the discharge of the obligations held so lightly over him by the noblest
man on earth. Once he returned from New Orleans, whither he had gone to
sell his cotton, with the story that he had been knocked senseless and
robbed of his wallet, and in proof of this he produced a newspaper
account of the midnight outrage, and exhibited a wound on the head,
inflicted by the bludgeon of the footpad. And with such drollery did he
recite this story that the Major laughed at him, which meant, of course,
that his tenure of the old plantation was not to be disturbed. The
memory of this rascally trick came back to the Major as he sat there
looking over his papers. He recounted it all as a reminiscence of his
own weakness, and he was firmly and almost angrily resolved that this
season the old fellow should not waddle from under his obligations.
Amusement was well enough; to laugh at a foible was harmless, but
constantly to be cheated was a crime against his wife and his children.
Children? Yes, for out of no calculation for the future did he leave
Louise.

There came a tap at the door. Mrs. Cranceford had sent a negro boy with
an umbrella and a lantern. The night was wild, and the slanting rain hit
hard. Before he reached the house the wind puffed out his lantern,
leaving him to stumble through the dark.

As he stepped upon the porch there was a loud "halloa" at the gate, and
just at that moment he heard his wife's voice. "John, go out there and
see who that is," she said.

He went round to the gate. His wife stood on the porch waiting for him.
Presently he came back, walking rapidly.

"Who is it, dear?"

"A negro man. Margaret, we must go at once to Louise. Pennington is
dying."

With an inarticulate note of astonishment she fled to her room, to
prepare herself for the journey, and the Major loudly commanded the
carriage to be brought out.

Lanterns flashed across the yard, under the streaming trees, and
flickered in the gale that howled about the barn.

Pale, impatient, and wrapped in a waterproof, Mrs. Cranceford stood at
the front doorway. The carriage drew up at the gate. "Are you ready?"
the Major asked, speaking from the darkness