XV. An Awful Resolve XVI. A Political Trick XVII. Paving the Way XVIII. John Wysong Confesses XIX. Added Sorrows XX. Speaker Lanier XXI. The Hanging XXII. Worse than Death XXIII. Full of Joy XXIV. Opposing the Wedding XXV. Erma and an Assassin XXVI. Name the Chapter After you Read It XXVII. The Funeral PROEM. A farmer who is planting corn in a fertile field, halts beneath the shade of a huge oak to rest at noon. Accidentally a grain of corn drops from his bag, finds lodgement in the soil, and in time begins to grow. The grains that fell in the field will have their difficulties in reaching maturity. There is the danger of too much water, of the drought, of the coming worms. But the grain that came to life under the oak has its _peculiar_ struggles. It must contend for sustenance with the roots of the oak. It must wrestle with the shade of the oak. The life of this isolated grain of corn is one continuous tragedy. OVERSHADOWED is the story of this grain of corn, the Anglo-Saxon being the oak, and the Negro the plant struggling for existence. To be true to life, the story must indeed be a sombre one. So, OVERSHADOWED is a tragedy--a story of sorrow and suffering. Yet the gloom is enlivened by the presence of a heroic figure, a beautiful, noble girl, who stands unabashed in the presence of every ill. OVERSHADOWED does not point the way out of the dungeon which it describes, but it clearly indicates the task before the reformer when he comes. If you have time and inclination for such a recital--the curtain rises and the play begins. OVERSHADOWED. CHAPTER I. A GIRL, PERPLEXED. To-and-fro, to-and-fro, with hurried, restless tread, Erma Wysong walked her parlor floor, forgetful of the young man who sat in a corner and gazed at her, with all of his powers of sight apparently doing double duty. Her hair, slightly coarse of thread, glistening as if in pride of its extreme blackness, was combed away from a brow that was exceedingly pretty and formed a part of a head that forewarned you to expect the possessor thereof to have an intellect of a very high order. A few unruly locks of her glossy hair had escaped from the grasp confining the others backward, and were hanging forward as if to peep into her tender brown eyes so full of soul; or, to tantalize a very prettily formed nose; or, to tempt a bite from a row of pearls even and gleamingly white; or, to nestle upon a cheek the tenderness and ruddiness of which were standing invitations for gentle pressure. Erma, nearly tall, a happy medium between the plump and the lithe, the perfection of symmetry, her whole frame a series of divinely fashioned curves, paced to and fro, her beautiful face wearing a look of mental perplexity. First her right hand and then her left tossed back with a nervous jerk the straying locks.