Months passed, dulling sorrow and the sense of loss, and bringing many a bitter change. The bitterness of Nathan’s life was made almost unbearable presently. His mother, of a weak and clinging nature, inevitably drifted to a fate a more self-reliant woman would have avoided. Worried with uncomprehended business, and assured by Toombs that this was the only way to retain a home for herself and children, yet unmoved by the kindly advice of Seth’s honest friends and neighbors, as well as the anger and entreaties of her son, she went with Toombs over to the Fort, where they were married by the chaplain stationed there. With such a man in the place of his wise and affectionate father, Nathan’s life was filled with misery, nor could he ever comprehend his mother’s course. Though bestowing upon Martha and his mother indifferent notice or none at all, towards the boy the stepfather exercised his recently acquired authority with severity, giving him the hardest and most unpleasant work to do, and treating him always with distrust, often with cruelty. “I hate him,” he told Ruth. “He’s sassed me every day since I come here, and I’ve got a bigger job ’an that to settle, one that I’d ha’ settled with his father, if he hadn’t cheated me by gettin’ killed.” “Oh, what do you mean?” Ruth gasped. “I thought you and Seth was always good friends.” “Friends!” he growled, contemptuously; “I hated the ground he walked on. Look here,” and Silas pulled out his leather pocketbook and took from it a soiled paper which he held before her eyes. She read the bold, clear signature of Ethan Allen, and, with a sickening thrill, that of Seth Beeman under it. “Yes, Ethan Allen and Seth Beeman and his neighbors whipped a man for claimin’ his own, and your boy went and gethered ’em in. Mebby you re’collect it.” “I couldn’t help it,” she gasped. “I didn’t see it. I run and hid and stopped my ears.” “Well, ’Rastus Graves ’ould ha’ settled his debts if he’d ha’ lived. But he died afore his back got healed over, and afore he died he turned the job over to his brother, that’s me, Silas Toombs, or Graves—they’re the same in the end.” Ruth stared at him in dumb amazement and horror, while he proceeded, pouring forth his long concealed wrath. “Well, I’ve got Seth Beeman’s wife, and, what’s wuth more, his farm, an’ his childern right ’nunder my thumb. I hope he knows on’t. And now, ma’am,” lowering his voice from its passionate exultation, “you don’t want to breathe a word o’ this to your nice neighbors or to your young ’uns. It wouldn’t do no good and it might be unpleasant all round. You don’t want folks to know what a fool you be.” After this disclosure, Ruth lived, in weariness and vain regret, a life that seemed quite hopeless but for looking forward to the time when her son could assert his rights and be her champion. Her nature was one of those that still bend, without being broken, by whatever weight is laid on them. CHAPTER X—REBELLION