“Good morning, sir,” she replied pleasantly.

“Uh-ah, good mawnin’, Miss Beecham, good mawnin’,” said Judge Wilson; and “Good mawnin’,” said Dr. Gregg.

“Good morning, Judge Wilson,” replied Mary Ellen, as she entered the car.—­“Good morning, Dr. Gregg.”  The gentlemen made way for her upon the shady side of the car, and lifted their hats ceremoniously.

“L’il late this mawnin’, Miss Beecham, seems like,” said the judge, with no trace of resentment in his tones.

Dr. Gregg upon this morning began his customary reproach also, but it halted upon his tongue.  “Miss Beecham,” he said, “pardon me, allow me—­are you ill?”

For Mary Ellen, settling herself for her regular morning ride with her regular companions, all at once went pale as she gazed out the window.  She scarcely heard the kind remark.  She was looking at a man—­a tall man with a brown face, with broad shoulders, with a long, swinging, steady stride.  This man was coming up the side of the street, along the path between the fence and the burdocks that lined the ditch.  His shoes were white with the limestone dust, but he seemed to care nothing for his way of locomotion, but reached on, his head up, his eye searching eagerly.

Not with equipage, not mounted as a Southern cavalier, not announced, but in the most direct and swiftest way in his power had Edward Franklin come.  Strong, eager, masterful, scorning the blazing sun, his reckless waste of energy marked him as a stranger in that place.  He stopped at the gateway for one moment, looking up the path, and then turned swiftly toward the car as though called audibly.

As with a flash his face lighted, and he strode straight on toward a woman whose heart was throbbing in a sudden tumultuous terror.  She saw him stoop at the car door, even as once before she had seen him enter at another lowly door, in another and far-off land.  She felt again the fear which then she half admitted.  But in a moment Mary Ellen knew that all fear and all resistance were too late.

The eyes of Franklin, direct, assured, almost sad, asked her no question, but only said, “Here am I!” And Mary Ellen knew that she could no longer make denial or delay.  Her thoughts came rapid and confused; her eyes swam; her heart beat fast.  Afar she heard the singing of a mocker in the oaks, throbbing, thrilling high and sweet as though his heart would break, with what he had to say.

Judge Wilson and Dr. Gregg politely removed their hats as Franklin entered the car and addressed Mary Ellen.  Confused by the abruptness of it all, it was a moment before she recognised local requirements, and presented Franklin to the gentlemen.  For an instant she planned flight, escape.  She would have begged Franklin to return with her.  Fate in the form of the driver had its way.  “Git ep, mewel!” sounded from the front of the car.  There was a double groan.  A little bell tinkled lazily.  The rusty wheels began slowly to revolve.