The Detroit times., 1913-11-10

| had n very vivid imagination. and
When I came here to play l used To
imagine could SEQ them. Valiant 60
handsone--his nickname wns Bonuty
vnliant--and Sassoon. How awful to
como to such lovely spot, just DO
cause Of young mans quarrel, and
to--tO kill ones friend! used to
wonder II the sky was blue that day
and whether poor Sassoon looked ur
at II when he took his place; and
whom olse he thought Of that last mo-
ment."
Had no paronts?"
mo. neither Of them had. believe
But there might have been some ons
else--some one he cared for and who
cared for him. That was the last duel
ever fought in Virginia. Dueling was
dreadful custom. I'm glad It's gone,
Aren't your"
Yes" he said slowly. 1T WIS a
thing that curt two ways. Perhaps
Valiant, II he could havc Ind his
choice afterward. would rather hive
been lying there that morning than
Sassoon."
He must have suffered, too" she
! agreed, "or he wouldn't havo exiled
himself as he did. used to wonder
II II was q lovequarrel-whethe they
could have been In love with the saEic
woman"
but why should he 90 away?"
i can't imagine. unless shc had
really loved the other man. II so.
she couldn't have borne seeing Vail
ant afterward." She paused with n
little laugh. But then" she said, "it
may have been nothing 90 romantic.
Perhaps they qusrreled over cards or
differed az to whose horse was the
better Jumper. valiant's grandfather,
who was known an Devil-John, is said
to have called q man out because he
rode past him on the wrong side. Our
ancestors In Virginia, I'm afraid, didn.
stand on ceremony when they feN. up.
pish."
He did not smile. He was looking
out once moro over the luminous
stretch Of fields. his side-face toward
her. Curious and painful questions
were running through his brain. With
an effort. he thrust these back and
recalled his attention to what she we
saying.
you wonder. suppose, that we feel
as we do toward these old estates,
and set store by them. and--yos, and
brag OF them insuferably as We do.
But It's in our blood. We love them
as the English do their ancient ma
nors. They have made our legends
and our history. And the history OF
Virginia"
Shc broke or with q shrug and.
more himself now, he finished for her:
e--isn't exactly trifiing part OF the
history OF these United States. You
ARE right"
You Northernors think we're des-
perstely conceited," she smiled, "but
It's true. We're still as proud OF our
land, and Its old, old Places. and love
them as well as our ancestors ever
did. We wouldn't change a line of
their stately old pillars or a pebble
OF their darling homy gardens. Do
you wonder we resent their passing Ia
people who don't care for them in the
Southern way?"
but suppose the newcomers do
care for tlrem?"
Her lips curled. "A young million.
aire who has lived all his life in New
York, to care for Damory Court! A
youth idiO.ically rich, brought ND In q
suDerheated atmosphere of noise and
money"
He started uncontrollably. SO that
was what she thought! He felt him.
sell flushing. He had wondered what
would be his Impression Of the neigh
borhood and its people; their possible
opinion of himself had never occurred
to him.
Why" she went on, I'll e never
cared enough about the place even
TO come and see It. For reasons Of
his own-good enough ones, perhaps.
according to the papers-he finds
himself tired OF the city. can i'm.
agfne him rejecting" With a mock
lag stimulation of q brown-study, she
put her hand to her brow. pushing
impatiently back the wayward clus-
ter: "'Let me see. Don't / own an
estate somewhere in the south? All.
ha! yes. n l remember. les in vir-
ginia. I'll send down and Ak up the
old howell Then he telephones for
HIS architect to run down and see
what Improvement it needs. And
here you. are!"
He laughed shortly--a tribute to
her mimicry--but II was q dimcult
laugh. The desperately ennuyee pose,
the lax drawl, the unaccustomed men.
tai effort and the sudden self-congrat.