"I'm North, I reckon," answered the Captain, bluntly. The Colonel bowed
his head. It was a long time before he spoke again. The Captain waited
like a man who expects and deserve, the severest verdict. But there was
no anger in Mr. Carvel's voice--only reproach.

"And you wouldn't tell me, Lige? You kept it from me."

"My God, Colonel," exclaimed the other, passionately, "how could I? I owe
what I have to your charity. But for you and--and Jinny I should have
gone to the devil. If you and she are taken away, what have I left in
life? I was a coward, sir, not to tell you. You must have guessed it. And
yet,--God help me,--I can't stand by and see the nation go to pieces.
Your nation as well as mine, Colonel. Your fathers fought that we
Americans might inherit the earth--" He stopped abruptly. Then he
continued haltingly, "Colonel, I know you're a man of strong feelings and
convictions. All I ask is that you and Jinny will think of me as a
friend--"

He choked, and turned away, not heeding the direction of his feet. The
Colonel, his stick raised, stood looking after him. He was folded in the
near darkness before he called his name.

"Lige!"

"Yes, Colonel."

He came back, wondering, across the rough stones until he stood beside
the tall figure. Below them, the lights glided along the dark water.

"Lige, didn't I raise you? Haven't I taught you that my house was your