Dr. Cary felt that he could not withhold this notification from Jacquelin. Before doing so, however, he consulted General Legaie. The little General’s eyes snapped as he read the letter. “Ah! if he were only a gentleman!” he sighed. The next moment he broke out. “I’ll lay my riding-whip across the dog’s shoulders! That’s what I’ll do.” The Doctor tried to soothe him. He would show the letter to Jacquelin, he said. The General protested. “My dear sir, if you do, there will be trouble. Young men are so rash. They have not the calm deliberation that we have.” The Doctor, recalling his conversation with Jacquelin, said he thought he could rely on his wisdom. “If he sees that letter there will be trouble,” asserted the General, “or he is not the nephew of his—ahem! not the son of his father.” However, the Doctor was firm. So he broke the matter to Jacquelin. To their surprise, Jacquelin took it very quietly; he did not say anything nor appear to mind it a great deal. The General’s countenance fell. “Young men have changed since my day,” he said, sadly. So Mrs. Gray was buried in what had been a part of the church-yard of the old brick-church, and Jacquelin, walking with his arm around Rupert, was as quiet as Miss Thomasia. That afternoon he excused himself from the further attendance of his friends, left his aunt and Rupert and walked out alone. He went first to the house of his neighbor, Stamper. Him Jacquelin told of his purpose. Stamper wished to accompany him; but he would not permit that. “Have you got a pistol?” asked Stamper. No, he was not armed, he said; he only wanted his friend to know, “in case anything should happen.” Then he walked away in the direction of Red Rock, leaving little Stamper leaning on the bars looking after him rather wistfully until he had disappeared. He had not been gone long when Stamper started after him. “If he gets hold of him, I’m afeared he’ll kill him,” he muttered as he hurried along. It was after sunset, and Hiram Still was sitting alone in the hall at Red Rock, by a table in the drawers of which he kept his papers. He never liked to sit in the dark, and had just called for a light. He was waiting for it. He was not in a good humor, for he had had something of a quarrel with Leech, and his son Wash had taken the latter’s side. The young doctor was always taking sides against him these days. They had made him write Dr. Cary that he was going to clear up the grave-yard, and he was not at all sure that it was a good thing to do; he had always heard that it was bad luck to break up a grave-yard, and now they had left him alone in the house. Even the drink of whiskey he had taken had not restored his good spirits. Why did not the light come? He roared an oath toward the open door. “D——n the lazy niggers!”