The Purchase Price | Page 6

from a day when skin garments made the proper garb of men. As
though to keep up this air of an older age, his long fair hair was cut
almost square, low down on the neck, as though he were some Frank
fresh from the ancient forests. Over the forehead also this square cut
was affected, so that, as he stood, large and confident, not quite outre,
scarce eccentric, certainly distinguished in appearance, he had a
half-savage look, as though ignorant or scornful of the tenderer ways of
civilization. A leader this man might be, a poor follower always.
Yet the first words he uttered showed the voice and diction of a
gentleman. "My dear Captain," he began, extending his hand as he
approached, "I am indeed charmed! What a delight to see you again in

our part of the world! I must claim the pleasure of having met you
once--two years ago, in St. Louis. Are you again on your way to the
frontiers?"
The tone of inquiry in his voice was just short of curious, indeed might
have been called expectant. His gaze, admiring yet polite, had not
wholly lost opportunity to list the attractions of this lady, whose name
had not yet been given him.
The gentleman accosted declined to be thus definite; adding only, after
the usual felicitations, "Yes, we are going down the river a little way on
the Vernon here."
"For some distance?"
"For quite a distance."
"At least, this is not your first journey down our river?"
"I wish it might be the last. The railway is opening up a new world to
us. The stage-coach is a thing of the past."
"I wish it might be, for me!" rejoined the stranger. "Unfortunately, I am
obliged to go West from here over the National Road, to look at some
lands I own out in Indiana. I very much regret--"
There was by this time yet more expectancy in his voice. He still
bowed, with respectful glances bent upon the lady. No presentation
came, although in the easy habit of the place and time, such courtesy
might perhaps have been expected. Why this stiffness among fellow
travelers on a little river packet?
[Illustration: He still bowed, with respectful glances.]
The tall man was not without a certain grave audacity. A look of
amusement came to his face as he gazed at the features of the other,
now obviously agitated, and not a little flushed.
"I had not known that your sister--" he began. His hand thus forced, the

other was obliged to reply: "No, the daughter of an old friend of mine,
you see--we are en voyage together for the western country. It has
simply been my fortune to travel in company with the lady. I present
you, my dear sir, to Miss Barren. My dear Miss Barren, this is State
Senator Warville Dunwody, of Missouri. We are of opposite camps in
politics."
The tall man bowed still more deeply. Meantime, Josephine St. Auban
in her own way had taken inventory of the new-comer. Her companion
hastily sought to hold matters as they were.
"My dear Senator Dunwody," he said, "we were just passing down to
the boat to see that the luggage is aboard. With you, I regret very much
that your journey takes you from us."
The sudden consternation which sat upon Dunwody's face was almost
amusing. He was very willing to prolong this conversation. Into his
soul there had flashed the swift conviction that never in his life had he
seen a woman so beautiful as this. Yet all he could do was to smile and
bow adieu.
"A fine man, that Dunwody, yonder," commented the young captain, as
they parted, and as he turned to his prisoner. "We'll see him on in
Washington some day. He is strengthening his forces now against Mr.
Benton out there. A strong man--a strong one; and a heedless."
"Of what party is he?" she inquired, as though casually.
"What a man's party is in these days," was his answer, "is something
hard to say. A man like Dunwody is pretty much his own party,
although the Bentonites call him a 'soft Democrat.' Hardly soft he
seems, when he gets in action at the state capital of Missouri yonder.
Certainly Dunwody is for war and tumult. None of this late weak-kneed
compromise for him! To have his own way--that is Dunwody's creed of
life. I thank God he is not going with us now. He might want his own
way with you, from the fashion of his glances. Did you see? My word!"
Young Carlisle fumed a shade more than might have seemed necessary
for military reasons.

Josephine St. Auban turned upon him with her slow smile, composedly
looking at him from between her long, dark lashes.
"Why