She hesitated a moment, then went on. "It seems that the first John Rutherford, the Old Indian fighter, who was killed at New Orleans, left a secret paper with his will, in which he begged the heir who inherited from him, your great-grandfather, John Rutherford, second, who fought in the Mexican war, you know, to bequeath the estate to that son of his who should be a soldier, and that it should be passed on in that way secretly to each generation. Now John Rutherford the second, had only one son, your grandfather, and his son, Braxton’s father, was killed in the war. "Oh, I see now," I said amazed, "and that was why he wanted me to go to West Point." "And why Braxton Bragg, who is a coward," she cried indignantly, "did go to West Point, after he stole that parchment and read it. And as proof of it, when grandfather was trying to persuade me to listen to Colonel Goff, he told me he was going to leave The Home Stretch so that it would go to Braxton Bragg after Aunt Lucretia’s death." In an instant I saw it all. I understood things that I had given no serious thought to before. "Yes, I am out," I agreed. "Jack, Little Brother, I hope I haven’t made you unhappy on your first night at home." I did not speak; she sighed. "And so I am going to marry Colonel Goff, Jack, and be the Countess of Carfax, and you’ll do as I say—you’ll make-believe with me. I’d so hate to have Aunt Lucretia know now." "I’ll go on as if it were I," I said bitterly. "I’d do anything for you, Eloise—and—and I do hope you’ll be happy yet." She shook her head: "Jack, you do not know me—that kind of happiness that I have craved all my life is not for me, and it is so hard that it should be, for I have always had such beautiful dreams of that kind of happiness—I, who could love so if I only might—I who wish it so, to be widowed of it all my life." "I could make you if you’d only wait—give me a chance to prove mine—to make you love me, Eloise." "It is too late. O, Jack, you deserve better of me than this; you do not deserve so poor return as this make-believe—a make-belief—only this—a little sisterly kiss," and she held up her face in the starlight to mine. But I sat silent. My heart—it would not take such a make-believe tribute. I rose from our seat. "Good night, Eloise, I wish now that I had stayed in Germany," I said as I walked in. "Jack, come back, don’t be angry with me. I’ve done the best I could." I saw her turn defiantly, like one who, receiving a hurt, fights back. I left her sitting under the trees. *CHAPTER VII* *THE CHIMES OF THE WISTERIA* I was up and out the next morning before Aunt Lucretia or any of the servants. I wanted to get to the dairy in time to see Tammas milk. I longed to see his whitewashed cottage and the clean, stone dairy under the hill, near the spring.