she had come after it was all over. Why should she prolong such memories
and feelings? But my light increased as I remembered she had not written

this for us, and that if she had not seen the flames of war, she had seen
the ashes; for the ashes I had seen myself here in Kings Port, and had

been overwhelmed by the sight, forty years later, more overwhelmed than I
could possibly say to Mrs. Gregory St. Michael, or Mrs. Weguelin, or any-

body. The strain of sitting and waiting for the end made my hands cold
and my head hot, but nevertheless the light which had come enabled me to

bend instantly to Mrs. Braintree and murmur a great and abused quotation
to her:--

"Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner."
But my petition could not move her. She was too old; she had seen the

flames of war; and so she said to her husband:--
"Edward, will you please help me upstairs?"

And thus the lame, irreconcilable lady left the room with the assistance
of her unhappywarrior, who must have suffered far more keenly than I

did.
This departure left us all in a constraint which was becoming unbearable

when the blessed doorbell rang and delivered us, and Miss Josephine St.
Michael entered with John Mayrant. He wore a most curious expression; his

eyes went searching about the room, and at length settled upon Juno with
a light in them as impish as that which had flickered in my own mood

before the ode.
To my surprise, Miss Josephine advanced and gave me a special and marked

greeting. Before this she had always merely bowed to me; to-night she
held out her hand. "Of course my visit is not to you; but I am very glad

to find you here and express the appreciation of several of us for your
timely aid to Daddy Ben. He feels much shame in having said nothing to

you himself."
And while I muttered those inevitablemodest nothings which fit such

occasions, Miss St. Michael recounted to the bride, whom she was
ostensibly calling upon, and to the rest of our now once more harmonious

circle, my adventures in the alleys of Africa. These loomed, even with
Miss St. Michael's perfectly quiet and simple rendering of them, almost

of heroic size, thanks doubtless to Daddy Ben's tropical imagery when he
first told the tale; and before they were over Miss St. Michael's marked

recognition of me actually brought from Juno some reflected recognition--
only this resembled in its graciousness the original about as correctly

as a hollow spoon reflects the human countenancedivine. Still, it was at
Juno's own request that I brought down from my chamber and displayed to

them the kettle-supporter.
I have said that Miss St. Michael's visit was ostensibly to the bride:

and that is because for some magnetic reason or other I felt diplomacy
like an undercurrent passing among our chairs. Young John's expression

deepened, whenever he watched Juno, to a devilishness which his polite
manners veiled no better than a mosquito netting; and I believe that his

aunt, on account of the battle between their respective nephews, had for
family reasons deemed it advisable to pay, indirectly, under cover of the

bride, a state visit to Juno; and I think that I saw Juno accepting it as
a state visit, and that the two together, without using a word of spoken

language, gave each other to understand that the recent deplorable
circumstances were a closed incident. I think that his Aunt Josephine had

desired young John to pay a visit likewise, and, to make sure of his
speedy compliance, had brought him along with her--coerced him, as Juno

would have said. He wore somewhat the look of having been "coerced," and
he contributed remarkably few observations to the talk.

It was all harmonious, and decorous, and properly conducted, this state
visit; yet even so, Juno and John exchanged at parting some verbal

sweet-meats which rather stuck out from the smooth meringue of diplomacy.
She contemplated his bruise. "You are feeling stronger, I hope, than you

have been lately? A bridegroom's health should be good."
He thanked her. "I am feeling better to-night than for many weeks."

The rascal had the thirty dollars visibly bulging that moment in his
pocket. I doubt if he had acquainted his aunt with this episode, but she

was certain to hear it soon; and when she did hear it, I rather fancy
that she wished to smile--as I completely smiled alone in my bed that

night thinking young John over.
But I did not go to sleep smiling; listening to the "Ode for the

Daughters of Dixie" had been an ordeal too truly painful, because it
disclosed live feelings which I had thought were dead, or rather, it

disclosed that those feelings smouldered in the young as well as in the
old. Doctor Beaugarcon didn't have them--he had fought them out, just as

Mr. Braintree had fought them out; and Mrs. Braintree, like Juno,
retained them, because she hadn't fought them out; and John Mayrant

didn't have them, because he had been to other places; and I didn't have
them--never had had them in my life, because I came into the world when

it was all over. Why then--Stop, I told myself, growing very wakeful, and
seeing in the darkness He light which had come to me, you have beheld ;he

ashes, and even the sight has overwhelmed you; these others were born in
the ashes, and have had ashes to sleep in and ashes to eat. This I said

to myself; and I remembered that War hadn't been all; that Reconstruction
came in due season; and I thought of the "reconstructed" negro, as Daddy

Ben had so ingeniously styled him. These white people, my race, had been
set beneath the reconstructed negro. Still, still, this did not justify

the whole of it to me; my perfectlyinnocentgeneration seemed to be
included in the unforgiving, unforgetting ode. "I must have it out with

somebody," I said. And in time I fell asleep.
XIII: The Girl Behind the Counter--III

I was still thinking the ode over as I dressed for breakfast, for which I
was late, owing to my hair, which the changes in the weather had rendered

somewhat recalcitrant. Yes; decidedly I must have it out with somebody.
The weather was once more superb; and in the garden beneath my window men

were already sweeping away the broken twigs and debris of the storm. I
say "already," because it had not seemed to me to be the Kings Port

custom to remove debris, or anything, with speed. I also had it in my
mind to perform at lunch Aunt Carola's commission, and learn if the

family of La Heu were indeed of royal descent through the Bombos. I
intended to find this out from the girl behind the counter, but the

course which our conversation took led me completely to forget about it.
As soon as I entered the Exchange I planted myself in front of the

counter, in spite of the discouragement which I too plainlyperceived in
her countenance; the unfavorable impression which I had made upon her at

our last interview was still in force.
I plunged into it at once. "I have a confession" target="_blank" title="n.招供；认错；交待">confession to make."

"You do me surprising honor."
"Oh, now, don't begin like that! I suppose you never told a lie."

"I'm telling the truth now when I say that I do not see why an entire
stranger should confess anything to me."

"Oh, my goodness! Well, I told you a lie, anyhow; a great, successful,
deplorable lie."

She opened her mouth under the shock of it, and I recited to her
unsparingly my deception; during this recital her mouth gradually closed.

"Well, I declare, declare, declare!" she slowly and deliciously breathed
over the sum total; and she considered me at length, silently, before her

words came again, like a soft soliloquy. "I could never have believed it
in one who"--here gayety flashed in her eyes suddenly--"parts his back

hair so rigidly. Oh, I beg your pardon for being personal!" And her
gayety broke in ripples. Some habitualinstinct moved me to turn to the

looking-glass. "Useless!" she cried, "you can't see it in that. But it's
perfectly splendid to-day."

Nature has been kind to me in many ways--nay, prodigal; it is not every
man who can perceive the humor in a jest of which he is himself the

subject. I laughed with her. "I trust that I am forgiven," I said.
"Oh, yes, you are forgiven! Come out, General, and give the gentleman

your right paw, and tell him that he is forgiven--if only for the sake of
Daddy Ben." With these latter words she gave me a gracious nod of

understanding. They were all thanking me for the kettle-supporter! She
probably knew also the tale of John Mayrant, the cards, and the bedside.

The curly dog came out, and went through his part very graciously.