While he walked slowly up and down the little, narrow space between the cabin and the stream, meditating on the troubled past and threatening future, the wind had gradually cleared the sky overhead and had sunk into rest. The pine trees stood still, the stars shone out, all was quiet. “The storm clouds are breaking—a little, a little—even for me,” he said. “But it will never be clear in this world.” He turned and went into the cabin. He found the room once occupied by his mother very comfortably arranged for his accommodation. A good fire was blazing in the chimney, and on the hearth before it was a pitcher of chocolate kept warm for him. He drank its contents gratefully and went to rest. CHAPTER VI HARCOURT AT LONE LODGE The profound quiet of the little vale, the soothing tinkle of the little stream, lulled the wearied traveler into a slumber so deep and prolonged that the sun was high above before he woke. Then it took him a few minutes to collect his faculties and realize his position. He looked with something like a faint content on the humble, peaceful scene around him. He lay for a little while in a sort of restful trance, and then suddenly remembered all that he had heard from Martha on the previous night about his mother’s state, and he sprang out of bed and dressed in haste, so that he might the sooner see that beloved parent and judge for himself of her condition. When he had hurried through his plain toilet he opened his room door and crossed the narrow passage into the kitchen. There he found no one present, though every preparation was completed for his breakfast. There was a glorious wood fire in the wide, open chimney, and bright tin-covered dishes sitting on the stone hearth before it; a pine table laid with a fine, white, well darned damask cloth—a vestige of better days at Lone Lodge, like the rare and costly, but chipped and mismatched old china that adorned it. Harcourt understood the situation. Martha, true to her word, had come very early in the morning, before her mistress would be likely to wake and want her services, and finding that her young master still slept, she had forborne to disturb him, but had gone quietly to work to prepare his morning meal, which she had placed before the fire to be kept hot until he should rise and require it, while she herself hurried back to Lone Lodge to attend upon her mistress. Harcourt placed his breakfast on the table and sat down to it. While he was slowly sipping his coffee he heard rapid, scuttling footsteps tearing through the brushwood toward the cabin, and the next moment the door was pushed open and Martha ran in. “Oh!” she exclaimed, out of breath, and stopping short on seeing Harcourt. “So yo’s up, young marse. Hopes yo’ had a good night’s rest, sah.” “The best I have had for many a day, Martha, thank you,” he replied.