The Normal Record. March 1901

              THE NORMAL RECORD.
to gaze across the fields at the dreary mansion. "Poor old home," he murmured, and
his eyes filled with tears. "What a curse this
cruel war has been. It has taken from me
that which I prized above all things, the love
and respect of all I love. Poor father and
mother, perhaps even now they will not forgive me," and his face grew sad as he looked
down at his battle-stained blue uniform.
Suddenly his face brightened. "But Edith
will," he thought, "Edith always was a good
little girl, God bless her. And Muriel will be
glad to see me," and his eyes grew moist
again as his thoughts went back to that
evening under the magnolias, when Muriel
had said "good-bye" to him with tears in her
eyes, and had promised always to remember
and pray for him, though he did not wear the
gray. "Four years ago," he mused, as he
resumed his weary walk, "Muriel must be
q dte a grown-up lady by this time." He
almost involuntarily quickened his pace, and
soon turned into the broad avenue leading to
the Manor,
A feeling of depression came over him as
he gazed at the dark pile before him. Not a
light was to be seen, save a faint glimmer
from the rear of the house. "Can it be— no,
they must be spending the evening out," he
said to himself as he sprang up the broad
steps and pulled the bell. No answer. He
pulled again, but no sound came to his ears
save the moaning of the wind among the
magnolias in the garden.
"Probably they are at Roselawn," he said
aloud, as if to reassure himself, at the same
time hastening around to the rear of the
the house. The kitchen door was open, and
an old negro woman whom he had never before seen sat dozing beside the dying fire.
How lonely she looked to the watcher at the
door. When last he had stood there the big
kitchen was full of noisy, bustling- workers,
each of which, however busy, had always a
smile and a cheery word for their favorite
"Marse Leigh." Now a stranger sat alone
where Aunt Sukey had ruled her sable subjects for so long, and the old kitchen was
silent as the garden outside.
The watcher stepped inside. "Good evening, Auntie" he said cheerily, though a vague
dread   of   he   knew   not what was gnawing
restlessly at his heart. The old woman
turned quickly." Hi! Marse, how you
skeered me!" she exclaimed. "Where yo'
come f'um?"
"Can you tell me if any of the family are at
home this evening?" he inquired.
"Miss Edif am at Roselawn, but I 'specs
she'll be at home d'reckly. Bettah set down
an' wait," she answered, eying him curiously
all the while.
"Are Mr. and Mrs. Howard out, too?" he
asked, somewhat unsteadily.
"Marster and Missis, suh? Lord, chile,
yo" mus   be a strangah heah."
"I am," he answered, and his face grew
pale, "are they not here now?"
"Why, bress yore heart, chile, old Marster
been gone dis two yeahs. and Missis done
gone to France wid Marse Harry an' his
wife. Why, what is the mattah wid yo'?
Wuz dey fren's o' yore's?" The stranger sat
with his arms upon the table and his head
bowed upon them. "I knew them once," he
said huskily,  "goon."
"Since de're fren's ob yore's," she said in a
patronizing tone "I'specs I bettah tole yo'
de 'tire story. Yo' see it wuz dis way. 'Fo'
de wah old Marse wuz berry rich, an' folks
sez dey wuz gret goin's on heah den. Dat
wuz 'fo' I come. I uster live down Souf in
Alabama. When Marse Howard wuz down
Souf de yeah de wah bruk out he buyed me
fo' Miss Edif, an' I stay wid her evah since.
When Mistah Linkum made der 'mancipatin'
act Miss Edif she say to me, :Nancy, yore
free now. Yo' kin go wharevah yo' want,
but 'membah yore alius welkum heah, Nancy,
if yo' like ter stay;' an' I sez 'Miss Edif, old
Nancy don' wan' no 'mancipationin'. Nancy
stay heah wid yo' 'slong ez yo' let her.' So
heah I am yit, an' I don' know what Miss
Edif wud do 'fout ole Nancy to tak keer on
her."
"Well, ez I remahked, folks say dey uster
be gret times heah, but when I come it wuz
purty ca'm. Marse Leigh an' Marse Harry
had done gone off to de wah, an' Missus sick
mos' alius, an' Miss Edif alius gwine roun' wid
a sort ob solemn look in her gret brown eyes,
an' ole Marse so cross de niggahs skeered to
go neah him. Aunt Sukey (she wuz head
cook in dem days) tole me how   Marse  Leigh