The Heart's Kingdom

At supper the Governor's first toast, after that to the town itself,

was to father and his distinctions. Then Mr. Jeffries toasted Nickols

and me. He called Nickols the "American Wizard of Habitations," and,

amid cheering and clapping hands, announced his intention to have

Nickols build the American town on the Hudson. He called me the "Heart

of the Achievement," and father's pride as he looked down the long table

at Nickols and me was very wonderful and beautiful; and as great a pride

rose in my heart as I saw him lift his glass of water to pledge me,

leaving the bubbles breaking in his champagne.

It was very near dawn when we all motored home and it was upon the verge

of the crack of day by the time Dabney and Nickols had got the Governor

and Mr. Jeffries and the other guests settled under the wide roof of the

Poplars, which had never hovered a more distinguished or brilliant house

party.

For a few quiet minutes after they had all gone to their rooms Nickols

and I stood alone on the front porch in the cool darkness with its hint

of the dawn, while old Dabney shut up the back part of the house.

"The school festival will be over to-morrow, sweetheart, and the next

day they will all be gone. The photographers are all through with the

photographing and to-morrow night all the extra workmen go back to the

city. There'll be three whole quiet days for you to get ready to give me

that kiss, which I won't take when you are as tired as you are now,"

said Nickols, as he put a limp arm around me and leaned against the tall

door post.

"To-morrow the old makes way for the new. Goodloets is dead! Long live

Goodloets!" I answered, as I in turn leaned against Nickols' jaded arm

for only a second before we preceded Dabney up the stairs to our rooms.

In my room I went immediately to the window and opened wide the heavy

shutters. I found myself looking down on Goodloets, which lay below the

darkness of the Poplars like a long glowworm, brilliant with the lights

from the homes of the revelers who were going to bed with a sense of

perfect security. Still farther down the hill the lights from the

Settlement glowed with scarcely less brilliancy and I felt sure that the

Last Chance was still harboring a last fling of joy.

Suddenly over my spirit came a deep wave of depression that amounted to

a great fear and then as I stood trembling in the darkness, a broad ray

of morning light shot up over Paradise Ridge and spread rapidly into a

crimson glow that was reflected against a black cloud hanging low over

the head of Old Harpeth. A flash of lightning darted from the cloud and

spread its gold fire through the crimson of the coming day, and then the

sullen-pointed cloud sank rapidly below Paradise Ridge, over which it

had risen, as if reconnoitering. Positively shuddering, I knelt against

the window seat and watched the day come with a hitherto unknown terror.

Then as I watched the dawn begin to drive away the sullen clouds a rich

voice began to sing out beyond the old poplars as a window of the gray

chapel was thrown open: "Arise, my soul, arise,

Shake off thy guilty fears;

... ... ... ...

Before the throne my Surety stands

My name is written on His hands."