As she sat, weighted down with these things, she heard a step down the road. It was slow and leisured, if not deliberately cautious. It was accompanied by a persistent spark of fire which flitted always on a straight line, in view and out, among the low bushes growing close to the fence along the roadside. A moment later a handsome face in the flare of a burning cigar appeared, smiling confidently at the gate. It was Langdon Chester. "Come out here," he said, in a soft, guarded voice. "I want to see you." Virginia rose, listened to ascertain if her mother was still asleep, and then, drawing her light shawl about her shoulders, she went to the fence. He reached over the gate and took her hand and pressed it warmly. "I was awfully afraid I’d not see you," he said. "I’ve failed so many times. My father left to-day, and I am very lonely in that big house with not a soul nearer than the negro-quarter." "It must be lonely," Virginia said, trying to be pleasant and to throw off her despondency. "Your mother went to town to-day, didn’t she?" Chester pursued, still holding the hand which showed an indifferent inclination to quit his clasp. "I think I saw her coming back. Did she get what she went for?" "No, she failed utterly," Virginia sighed. "I don’t know what to do. She’s suffering awfully—not in bodily pain, you know, for there is none at all, but in the constant and morbid fear of death. It is an awful thing to be face to face, day after day, night after night, with a mother who is in such agony. I never dreamed such a fate could be in store for any young girl. It is actually driving me crazy." "Yes, yes," Langdon said, hesitatingly. "I want to tell you something. I had a talk with my father about her just before he left. I’ve worried over it, too, little girl. Folks may run me down, you know, but I’ve got real feelings; and so, as a last resort, as I say, I told him about it. He’s hard up himself, as you may know, along with our heavy family expenses, and interest on debts, and taxes, but I managed to put it in such a way as to get him interested, and he’s promised to let me have the money provided he can make a certain deal down at Savannah. But he says it must be kept absolutely quiet, you understand. If he sends me this money, you must not speak of it to any one—the old man is very peculiar." Virginia’s heart bounded, the hot blood of a dazzling new hope pulsed madly in her veins. The tensity of her hand in his warm clasp relaxed; her eyes, into which his own passionate ones were melting, held kindling fires of gratitude and trust. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried, "if he only _would_!"