"
After taking the brandy he slept a little, and awaking quietly, looked at
Dan with dazed eyes.
"Who is it?" he asked, stretching out his hand. "Why, I thought Dick Wythe
was dead."
Dan bent over him, smoothing the hair from his brow with hands that were
gentle as a woman's.
"Surely you haven't forgotten me," he said.
"No--no, I remember, but it is dark, too dark. Why doesn't Shadrach bring
the candles? And we might as well have a blaze in the fireplace to-night.
It has grown chilly; there'll be a white frost before morning."
There was a basket of resinous pine beside the hearth, and Dan kindled a
fire from a handful of rich knots. As the flames shot up, the rough little
cabin grew more cheerful, and the Governor laughed softly lying on his
pallet.
"Why, I thought you were Dick Wythe, my boy," he said. "The light was so
dim I couldn't see, and, after all, it was no great harm, for there was not
a handsomer man in the state than my friend Dick--the ladies used to call
him 'Apollo Unarmed,' you know. Ah, I was jealous enough of Dick in my day,
though he never knew it. He rather took Julia's fancy when I first began
courting her, and, for a time, he pretended to reform and refused to touch
a drop even at the table. I've seen him sit for hours, too, in Julia's
Bible class of little negroes, with his eyes positively glued on her face
while she read the hymns aloud. Yes, he was over head and ears in love with
her, there's no doubt of that--though she has always denied it--and, I dare
say, he would have been a much better man if she had married him, and I a
much worse one.
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