At last the suspense became to her unendurable.

“Father,” she said, “why don’t you go to see Bob Walker?  You might buy the farm back again.”

“I don’t know why he don’t come and take it,” said Mr. Anderson dejectedly.

This conversation roused Mrs. Abigail.  There was some hope.  She got up in bed, and told Samuel to go to the county-seat and see if the deeds had ever been recorded.  And while her husband was gone she sat up and looked better, and even scolded a little, so that Julia felt encouraged.  But she dreaded to see her father come back.

Samuel Anderson entered the house on his return with a blank countenance.  Sitting down, he put his face between his hands a minute in utter dejection.

“Why don’t you speak?” said Mrs. Anderson in a broken voice.

“The land was all transferred to Andrew immediately, and he owns every foot of it.  He must have sent Bob Walker here to buy it.”

“Oh!  I’m so glad!” cried Julia.

But her mother only gave her one reproachful look and went off into hysterical sobbing and crying over the wrong that Andrew had done her.  And all that night Julia watched by her mother, while Samuel Anderson sat in dejection by the bed.  As for Norman, he had quickly relapsed into his old habits, and his former cronies had generously forgiven him his temporary piety, considering the peculiar circumstances of the case some extenuation.  Now that there was trouble in the house he staid away, which was a good thing so far as it went.

The next afternoon Mrs. Anderson rallied a little, and, looking at Julia, she said in her querulous way, “Why don’t you go and see him?”

“Who?” said Julia with a shiver, afraid that her mother was insane.

“Andrew.”

Julia did not need any second hint.  Leaving her mother with Cynthy, she soon presented herself at the door of the castle.

“Did she send you?” asked Andrew dryly.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve been expecting you for a long time.  I’ll go back with you.  But August must go along.  He’ll be glad of an excuse to see your face again.  You look thin, my poor girl.”

They went past Wehle’s, and August was only too glad to join them, rejoicing that some sort of a crisis had come, though how it was to help him he did not know.  With the restlessness of a man looking for some indefinable thing to turn up, Samuel was out on the porch waiting the return of his daughter.  Jonas had come for Cynthy Ann, and was sitting on a “shuck-bottom” chair in front of the house.

Andrew reached out his hand and greeted his brother cordially, and spoke civilly to Abigail.  Then there was a pause, and Mrs. Anderson turned her head to the wall and groaned.  After a while she looked round and saw August.  A little of her old indignation came into her eyes as she whimpered, “What did he come for?”

“I brought him,” said Andrew.