Over events of national importance I am compelled to pass swiftly, for in no way am I seeking to write the history of a struggle, and by giving only a glimpse here and there shall I try to set forth the disaffection that led to it. Lincoln was elected and for a time the South stood in dumb surprise, and then she shook herself and the nation began to go to pieces, crumbling apart with secession. Further south it was but natural to expect that all would go one way, but in Kentucky there were contending factions in almost every household; and the friendships and affections of a life-time were torn to shreds. Tennessee, our respected neighbor on the south, went out of the Union and beat old drums under a new flag; and it was expected that Kentucky would follow, but her grim old leaders set their teeth and swore that the commonwealth should not budge from her time-honored allegiance to the government of Washington and Monroe. Old Master was firm for the Union. Once he heard a drum beating at midnight and he got out of his bed and went to town. And when he came back his countenance was sad but hard-set. "They are beating up men for the rebel army," he said. "I raised my hand and in the name of our fathers commanded them to disperse, but they laughed at me. Let them go. The devil is waiting for them."

Within a few days it seemed that every accent of the human voice was a martial tone. There was no talk but of war. Brothers denounced one another in the street, and fathers drove their sons from home. Society was mad. Over line-fences irate neighbors gazed at one another, gun in hand. Day and night the turn-pikes resounded with the clatter of galloping hoofs. Brass cannon were dragged by our house; men camped under our trees, without asking permission. Fifes were screaming everywhere, and negro drummers strutted about wearing the cast-off and faded finery of a former war. From the South came the startling report that the conflict was begun. And the drums in Kentucky beat louder.

One evening, just as the family had sat down to supper, Sam came in and said that a man outside wanted to see Old Master. "Tell him to come in here," the old man spoke up. Presently a man entered, dressed and accoutered as a cavalryman. Old Master glanced at him as he crossed the threshold, and seeing that his uniform was gray, demanded the cause of his visit.

"The government has sent me to buy your crib of corn, sir."

"The government! I don't understand you, sir," Old Master declared, frowning at the man's clothes.

"The Confederate government," the man said.

"Indeed! I didn't know that such a government existed. You may return, sir, and tell the Confederate government to go back to h—, where it belongs."

The man smiled, touched his cap with a military salute and withdrew. He had been a neighbor, but now he was a stranger.

"Guilford," said Mr. Clem, "nearly everybody was surprised when the news went out that you were for the Union. You are so strongly a Southerner and have always tried so hard to justify slavery that—"

"Sir, with me my country is my first consideration," Old Master broke in.

"But I can't, for the life of me, understand why you should deliberately turn your back on your own interests," said Old Miss. "The South is more your country than the North is, and yet you turn against the South."

"Madam, the whole country, the traditions of the American people are mine. And I don't believe that the government will interfere with slavery, but if it should, I say, let it go ahead. The first consideration is to save the country."

Bob had said not a word. Many a time when the drums struck up had he gone out to walk in the woods alone, and I knew that a struggle was raging within his breast, but I asked him no question and he offered not a word. Of late he had gone forth at night, sometimes remaining away until nearly dawn, and in his sleep he had cried sharp words, "right about face," "forward march," "halt!"—

"Bob," said Old Master, "I have waited to hear you express your views; I have given you plenty of time, but you have said nothing. I know without asking, still I would like to hear your say. Which side do you favor? But wait, you needn't answer so foolish a question."

"Father, the question is not foolish. I am raising a company of men for the Confederate army."

It seemed that every dish and cup leaped from the table. Old Master was on his feet, then on his chair, then leaning against the wall, his face hidden. He uttered a cry such as I had never heard, a groan set to the tune of despair. He turned from the wall and looked at his son, now standing with his hands resting on the back of a chair. The young man bowed his head, and I saw the tears trickling down his face. Old Master dragged his feet forward, feeling out with his hands as if to keep from falling. Old Mistress stood with her arms folded and with cold pride on her face. Miss May was pale with an air of fright; and Titine, looking across at me, slowly closed her eyes and smiled.

Old Master reached the table and leaned forward with both hands pressed flat upon it, in the helpless condition of a man hoping and trying not to fall, a man who has received a knock-down blow and who is expecting another. His chin shook and his old lips worked and I thought I heard them rasp like dry corn-blades as he strove to talk. He looked at Mr. Clem as if imploring his help, at his daughter as if to summon strength from her gentle and affectionate nature. His body began to sway like the snag of an old tree about to fall, then stiffened; and now he stood unsupported, straight, head high, in a strength that seemed to turn upon his years and defy them. He spoke and his voice was as clear as the yelp of the hound that leads the pack. "Robert Gradley, your eye, sir."

The young man raised his eyes and they looked at each other, Bob with an expression akin to pleading, Old Master hard and cold.

"Do you mean, sir, to tell me that you are raising a company of men to fight against your country?"

"No, sir, not against my country, but for a principle that some of my countrymen are trying to trample under foot. Instinctively I hate the cold exactions of the Puritan. His aim is not so much to preserve the Union as to humiliate the men who own slaves. For the slave he has no real feeling; to serve his ends he would see the negro drawn and quartered. His hatred of the men of the South is older than the creed of abolition; it began when old Peter Wentworth stood in the English parliament and raised his voice against refinement and gentility. I honor the memory of the men who made our flag the symbol of a mighty nation; but I love poetry more than I do commerce, and a sentiment is stronger with me than a woollen mill. A cold and feelingless duty might call me to the other side, but emotion, stronger than any sense of duty, impels me toward the South. It grieves me to oppose you; it is like boring tender flesh with a red hot iron, and I have wandered up and down the woods at night and in the dawn, praying—"

"Theatrical fool!" the old man shouted.

"No!" Old Mistress cried. I have seen resolute turkey hens turn out their feathers in warning against a trespasser upon the sward where their young ones were squatted. And at this moment Old Mistress reminded me of a turkey hen. "No! he is not a theatrical fool. He has as much right to his convictions as you have to yours. You have taught him to be independent—you sent him from home to school when he was a child to teach him self-reliance; and he found it."

Here Mr. Clem walked round the table and laid his hand upon Old Master's shoulder. "Guilford," said he, "the young fellow is honest, he has evidently suffered over the question, and it is of no use to take bitter issue with him."

"By G—! I'll turn him out of the house!" Old Master shouted, shaking himself free of his brother's touch. "He shan't—"

"Then you turn me out, too!" Old Miss cried.

Miss May ran to her father, and put her arms about his neck. "Please don't say anything that you'll be sorry for," she pleaded.

He took her arms from about his neck, but stood holding her hands; and his eyes were not so cold nor did his skin look so dry and harsh. Not in the least was Young Master excited, nor did he appear to be astonished at the denunciations heaped upon him. Indeed, it was clear to me that for months he had been expecting it and was relieved now to think that the blow had fallen. The young man spoke and his voice was soft and musical. "If I were to leave the house before the time comes for me to go, I would but add to an injury which you threaten to inflict upon yourself. You would regret your expulsion of me, and could never forgive yourself if I should be killed. It seems to me now that all my training was to fit me for this step, rather than to equip me for an orator—to stimulate my impulse rather than to train my judgment. I will not say that your cause is unjust, but I must say that I cannot fight with the Puritan. My troop leaves on the day after to-morrow, and until then I will be your obedient son."

Old Master lifted his hand as if his words were to fall as a blow, but Mr. Clem took his arm and eased it down. "Guilford," said he, "the young man has simply gone you one better in his worship of the tinsel of the past. You have taught him that the Southerner is the only real gentleman in this country and you can't blame him for the course he is determined to take."

And now Old Master was surprisingly calm. "But, sir, I never thought to teach him to join in rebellion against his country."

"You didn't measure the extent of your teaching. It went a mile further than your intention. And as it has gone beyond your control, let us make the most of it, or rather the best of it. Let him follow his own bent, let him fight for an aristocracy, and let him go with a blessing rather than with a curse. That's the sensible view to take. I am going to fight for the Union, and I now give him my hand, hoping that one day he may see his error and repent of it."

He stretched forth his hand and Young Master clasped it. "I thank you, Uncle Clem. You have told me how sharp you can be and now you prove how broad and liberal you are."

Old Master reached forth his hand. "It is that you may feel how sore my heart is," said he, as the young man gripped his palm. "You have wounded me and the wound will never heal, but you are my son and I have been proud of you. Not another word," he said, quickly withdrawing his hand and lifting it to enjoin silence. "On this subject no more words shall pass between us; and when the time comes, you may go your way in silence. Daniel," he said, turning to me, "let me see you in the library."

I followed him into the library, and when he had closed the door he said to me. "You know what his intentions were."

"No, sir, he said not a word to me."

"Don't lie to me, Dan."

"As God is my judge, sir, I knew nothing of his plans until he gave them to you."

"And has he said nothing as to what you shall do? Hasn't he told you that you must go with him?

"I tell you that he has said nothing to me."

"But he will ask you to go with him."

"And I will go, sir."

"What?" I sprang back or I believe he would have leaped upon me. "Come back to me, sir. Don't run away from me. I'll shoot you down like a dog. Come here."

"I am not going to run away from you, Master."

He put his hands behind him, leaned forward and bored me with his eyes. "Some men don't believe it, but I see the end of slavery," said he. "And are you going to assist a cause that is fighting against your own freedom, Dan?" His manner changed and he put his hand on my shoulder. "Don't go away and leave me. I need you—I am a miserable old man, looking about for a prop. Don't leave me."

I dropped upon my knees and bowed my head to the floor, and I heard him sob over me. "I must follow him," I supplicated. "I can't stay behind. He saved my life. Listen to me a moment. I killed Dr. Bates—killed him in the manner my young master described—killed him to save my own life. They would have hanged me, but he took the blood upon himself to save me. And though for months nothing has been said, no one has uttered the doctor's name in his presence, I know that some people look upon him as a slaughterer of his brother, and I know that he has suffered, and for me. Money was offered me and I could have run away, but love, ignorance and superstition held me back, though the rope was ready for my neck. Never but once have I been tempted to leave him, never but once has my heart found a rebellion against him, and that was a woman—"

He put his hands under my arms and bade me arise. I got up and dared not look into his eyes, for I knew they were filled with tears. "Speak not a word of this to a living soul," he said. "Seal your mouth, for they would hang you even now. Go with him."

Old Mistress opened the door, unable longer to bear the thought that he might be taking me into a confidence, and as she entered, the old man turned wrathfully upon me. "Yau can go to the d——!" he said, his voice high and sharp. "You may go with the rebels and be hanged with them. Madam, this negro boy is going with his master."

"Why, of course," she said with a brightening countenance, and speaking as if I were but to discharge a trivial duty. "He will need someone to wait on him and that's Dan's place, I am sure. And besides, it won't be for long. Everybody knows that it won't be much of a war. The North will soon be compelled to grant every demand made by the South; so for gracious sake, let us not take it so to heart. Come on into the parlor. May will sing an old song for us."

"Madam, I want no song. The rest of you may sing and make merry over the disgrace of my country, but I will not. Good-night."

He strode out, Old Mistress following him, begging him to come back, but he went to his room up stairs and shut the door. Surely no one felt disposed to hear a song, no one except myself, as I listened to the old-time lullaby with which Titine was wont to soothe the little one to sleep.

When I went to my Young Master's room I found him sitting there alone. His books were put out of sight and a sword lay upon his table. As I entered, he looked up at me and pointed to a chair. "I want to talk to you," he said, and when I had sat down, he continued: "I will not compel you to go with me—"

"I am going Mars. Bob," I broke in. He looked at me with a sad smile.

"Dan, you are a faithful friend."

"I am a grateful slave, sir. And never but once was I ungrateful, and then my heart was on fire and my soul smothered with the smoke that arose. Titine laughed at me when I asked her to be my wife. She said that our marriage would be but a mockery, the multiplication of miseries; and I would have run away with her, but she told me that she did not love me. Don't credit me with more than my due. I am a weak man and under certain conditions might forget a great favor and prove treacherous. Don't trust me too far."

"I would trust you to the end of the earth," he said. "You are a negro, but you are a gentleman. You say Titine doesn't love you?" he continued after pausing to reflect. "What sort of a creature is she? What does she expect?"

"I don't know what she expects, but I believe that she hopes one day to be a nun. Her old mistress poisoned her."

He reached over, took hold of the sword and drew it part way out of the scabbard. "For a long time I have kept it hidden in my closet," he said, pulling the blade further out and then shoving it back to the hilt. "I was afraid of a sharper and perhaps a juster weapon—my old father's tongue." He got up with a shudder, turned his back upon me and stood at the window. "The time may come when I shall acknowledge that I was bewitched," he said, looking out into the darkness. "But her love and her encouragement urge me on. Dan,"—and now he faced about—"Dan, the woman I love is a champion of the Southern cause. She said that she could not love me if—but it is cruel of me to tell you of love and of smiles. Your heart is sore; I have long known it. But—"

"Master, please don't think of me. Do you need me now?" I asked. "If not, I will go out."

"Go and stay as long as you choose," he said.

Titine was singing to the little child. The door was partly open and I looked into the room. She was bending over the cradle, her long hair hanging loose. I heard Miss May talking in Old Master's room.

"Titine."

"What do you want?" she asked, looking at me.

"Is the child asleep?"

"What is that to you?"

"Please don't snap at me that way. I want to talk to you—in the yard alone."

"I know what you would say, and you needn't say it."

"No, you don't. I have something to tell you that I never told before. I am going away and I want to talk to you."

"Oh, going with your master? Poor fool, to fight against your own interest, but you can't help it—You are a piece of yellow property."

"So is gold," I declared.

"Yes, so is gold, a piece of yellow property."

"But will you come down?"

"What is the use? You have already told me."

"And have you said all that you could say?"

"Yes, you are a poor fool."

"Your frankness will become insulting, the first thing you know."

"Indeed! Shut the door, please."

"Are you a human being?"

"No."

"I believe you are but a beautiful witch."

"Thank you. Even witches like a compliment. Shut the door, please."

I shut the door with a slam and I heard the child crying as I strode down the stairs.