They stood on the edge of a stony ravine which widened at one end to a shallow marshy valley. The rocks were covered with gray-green feathery creepers, enwound with curly yellow tendrils of love-vine. Across the ravine, on a lower level, began a grove of splendid trees that marched up into the long stretch of neglected forest he had seen from the house. Looking down the valley, fields of young tobacco lay tier on tier, and beyond, in the very middle of the mellow vaporous distance, lifted the tapering tower of a far-off church, hazily outlined against the azure. “You love it?” he asked, without withdrawing his eyes. “I’ve loved it all my life. I love everything about Damory Court. Ruined as it is, it is still one of the most beautiful estates in all Virginia. There’s nothing finer even in Italy. Just behind us, where those hemlocks stand, is where the duel the children spoke of was fought.” [Pg 166] He turned his head. “Tell me about it,” he said. She glanced at him curiously. “Didn’t you know? That was the reason the place was abandoned. Valiant, who lived here, and the owner of another plantation, who was named Sassoon, quarreled. They fought, the story is, under those big hemlock trees. Sassoon was killed.” He looked out across the distance; he could not trust his face. “And—Valiant?” “He went away the same day and never came back; he lived in New York till he died. He was the father of the Court’s present owner. You never heard the story?” “No,” he admitted. “I—till quite recently I never heard of Damory Court.” “As a little girl,” she went on, “I had a very vivid imagination, and when I came here to play I used to imagine I could see them, Valiant so handsome—his nickname was Beauty Valiant—and Sassoon. How awful to come to such a lovely spot, just because of a young man’s quarrel, and to—to kill one’s friend! I used to wonder if the sky was blue that day and whether poor Sassoon looked up at it when he took his place; and whom else he thought of that last moment.” “Had he parents?” “No, neither of them had, I believe. But there might have been some one else,—some one he cared for and who cared for him. That was the last duel [Pg 167]ever fought in Virginia. Dueling was a dreadful custom. I’m glad it’s gone. Aren’t you?” “Yes,” he said slowly, “it was a thing that cut two ways. Perhaps Valiant, if he could have had his choice afterward, would rather have been lying there that morning than Sassoon.” “He must have suffered, too,” she agreed, “or he wouldn’t have exiled himself as he did. I used to wonder if it was a love-quarrel—whether they could have been in love with the same woman.” “But why should he go away?”