The Christmas Peace | Page 5

gate while his son presented
himself and laid at Lucy Drayton's feet what the Judge truly believed

was more than had ever been offered to any other woman. He, however,
sent the most conciliatory messages to Major Drayton.
"Tell him," he said, "that I will take down my fence and he shall run the
line to suit himself." He could not have gone further.
The time that passed appeared unending to the Judge waiting in the
darkness; but in truth it was not long, for the interview was brief. It was
with Major Drayton and not with his daughter.
Major Drayton declined, both on his daughter's part and on his own, the
honor which had been proposed.
At this moment the door opened and Lucy herself appeared. She was a
vision of loveliness. Her face was white, but her eyes were steady. If
she knew what had occurred, she gave no sign of it in words. She
walked straight to her father's side and took his hand.
"Lucy," he said, "Mr. Hampden has done us the honor to ask your hand
and I have declined it."
"Yes, papa." Her eyelids fluttered and her bosom heaved, but she did
not move, and Lucy was too much a Drayton to unsay what her father
had said, or to undo what he had done.
Oliver Hampden's eyes did not leave her face. For him the Major had
disappeared, and he saw only the girl who stood before him with a face
as white as the dress she wore.
"Lucy, I love you. Will you ever care for me? I am going--going away
to-morrow, and I shall not see you any more; but I would like to know
if there is any hope." The young man's voice was strangely calm.
The girl held out her hand to him.
"I will never marry anyone else."
"I will wait for you all my life," said the young man.

Bending low, he kissed her hand in the palm, and with a bow to her
father, strode from the room.
The Judge, waiting at the gate in the darkness, heard the far-off,
monotonous galloping of Oliver's horse on the hard plantation road. He
rode forward to meet him.
"Well!"
It was only a word.
"They declined."
The father scarcely knew his son's voice, it was so wretched.
"What! Who declined? Did you see--"
"Both!"
Out in the darkness Judge Hampden broke forth into such a torrent of
rage that his son was afraid for his life and had to devote all his
attention to soothing him. He threatened to ride straight to Drayton's
house and horsewhip him on the spot. This, however, the young man
prevented, and the two rode home together in a silence which was
unbroken until they had dismounted at their own gate and given their
horses to the waiting servants. As they entered the house, Judge
Hampden spoke.
"I hope you are satisfied," he said, sternly. "I make but one request of
you--that from this time forth, you will never mention the name of
Drayton to me again as long as you live."
"I suppose I should hate her," said the son, bitterly, "but I do not. I love
her and I believe she cares for me."
His father turned in the door-way and faced him.
"Cares for you! Not so much as she cares for the smallest negro on that
place. If you ever marry her, I will disinherit you."

"Disinherit me!" burst from the young man. "Do you think I care for
this place? What has it ever brought to us but unhappiness? I have seen
your life embittered by a feud with your nearest neighbor, and now it
wrecks my happiness and robs me of what I would give all the rest of
the world for."
Judge Hampden looked at him curiously. He started to say, "Before I
would let her enter this house, I would burn it with my own hands"; but
as he met his son's steadfast gaze there was that in it which made him
pause. The Hampden look was in his eyes. The father knew that
another word might sever them forever.
*****
If ever a man tried to court death, young Oliver Hampden did. But
Death, that struck many a happier man, passed him by, and he secured
instead only a reputation for reckless courage and was promoted on the
field.
His father rose to the command of a brigade, and Oliver himself
became a captain.
At last the bullet Oliver had sought found him; but it spared his life and
only incapacitated him for service.
There were no trained nurses during the war, and Lucy Drayton, like so
many girls, when the war grew fiercer, went into the hospitals, and by
devotion supplied their place.
Believing that life