“Yes!--I--I thought I'd like to have a little talk with you, Courtland,” said Champney. He hesitated a moment before the proffered chair, and then added, with a cautious glance towards the street, “Hadn't we better go inside?” “As you like. But you'll find it wofully hot. We're quite alone here; there's nobody in the house, and this shower will drive any loungers from the street.” He was quite frank, although their relations to each other in regard to Miss Sally were still so undefined as to scarcely invite his confidence. Howbeit Champney took the proffered chair and the glass of julep which Courtland brought him. “You remember my speaking to you of Dumont?” he said hesitatingly, “Miss Dows' French cousin, you know? Well--he's coming here: he's got property here--those three houses opposite the Court House. From what I hear, he's come over with a lot of new-fangled French ideas on the nigger question--rot about equality and fraternity, don't you know--and the highest education and highest offices for them. You know what the feeling is here already? You know what happened at the last election at Coolidgeville--how the whites wouldn't let the niggers go to the polls and the jolly row that was kicked up over it? Well, it looks as if that sort of thing might happen HERE, don't you know, if Miss Dows takes up these ideas.” “But I've reason to suppose--I mean,” said Courtland correcting himself with some deliberation, “that any one who knows Miss Dows' opinions knows that these are not her views. Why should she take them up?” “Because she takes HIM up,” returned Champney hurriedly; “and even if she didn't believe in them herself, she'd have to share the responsibility with him in the eyes of every unreconstructed rowdy like Tom Higbee and the rest of them. They'd make short work of her niggers all the same.” “But I don't see why she should be made responsible for the opinions of her cousin, nor do I exactly knew what 'taking him up' means,” returned Courtland quietly. Champney moistened his dry lips with the julep and uttered a nervous laugh. “Suppose we say her husband--for that's what his coming back here means. Everybody knows that; you would, too, if you ever talked with her about anything but business.” A bright flash of lightning that lit up the faces of the two men would have revealed Champney's flushed features and Courtland's lack of color had they been looking at each other. But they were not, and the long reverberating crash of thunder which followed prevented any audible reply from Courtland, and covered his agitation.