Rhoda was looking out through the open door, her brow puckered in a thoughtful frown, the pain in her heart evidenced by the droop and the quiver of her sensitive lips. Dr. Ware’s office was on the eastern side of the house and faced a gate, opening from the cross street, through which a young man was now striding hastily. “There’s Horace Hardaker!” she exclaimed. “How excited he looks! Oh, do you suppose he’s had bad news from Julia?” They sprang to their feet and rushed out upon the veranda. “Very likely,” her father answered. “The border ruffians are overrunning eastern Kansas. What is it, Horace? What has happened?” he went on, grasping the young man’s hand as he mounted the steps. They pressed close to him, expectant, their faces anxious. “Julia--have you had bad news?” Rhoda threw in breathlessly. Hardaker’s face was working with suppressed excitement and it was a moment before he could speak. “You haven’t heard?” he broke out. “Oh, it’s frightful! Senator Sumner was attacked yesterday in the senate chamber and beaten almost to death!” “My God, Horace! Who did it?” cried Dr. Ware, gripping the other’s hand, his face paling. “Preston Brooks--” “Of South Carolina--yes, go on!” “Senator Butler’s nephew--that speech of Sumner’s the other day--” “Yes, yes! The crimes of the South! Brooks has killed him?” “No, but he may not live. Brooks came upon him from behind, as he sat at his desk, and while he was penned there pounded him over the head with a heavy cane.” “Will the North stand this insult?” Dr. Ware exclaimed, dropping the other’s hand, which unconsciously he had been gripping and shaking during their colloquy. With quick steps and short turns he marched this way and that as they went on talking, running his fingers through his hair until it stood upright. Rhoda shared in their excitement, her nerves still tingling from her recent emotion, mind and heart alike ready to be deeply impressed by the news. With brief, sharp sentences they broke across one another’s speech, turning pale faces and glittering eyes from one to another. “Brooks’s companions held back those who tried to go to Sumner’s help!” “Oh, what a brutal and cowardly--” “If the North is not utterly craven--” “It’s the most atrocious thing they’ve dared yet!” “Beecher’s bibles are the thing to answer it with!” “The sooner the better!” “If there’s any manhood at all in the North!”