He could wait; every affection of her loving, constant heart, every fiber of her self-sacrificing nature, would fight for him; prejudices, even the most deeply-rooted, must yield, in time, to love.  When he should come again it would be to claim his victory.

No thought of abandoning the pursuit crossed his brain; no impulse of ruth stirred his heart.  Did she suffer?  So did he—­keenly, cruelly.  Let her end this torture for them both; let her lay aside these senseless scruples, and place her hand in his.  His arms were open to her, his heart yearning for her; let her come and anchor in the sure haven of his love.

Pocahontas told her mother, very quietly, of Thorne’s visit, his proposal, and her rejection of it; just the bare facts, without comment or elaboration.  But Mrs. Mason had a mother’s insight and could read between the lines; she did not harass her daughter with many words, even of approval; or with questions; she simply drew the sweet, young face down to her bosom a moment, and held it there with tender kisses.  Nor did Berkeley, to whom his mother communicated the fact, volunteer any comment to his sister.  After what had passed, Thorne’s proposal was not a surprise, and to them the girl’s answer was a foregone conclusion.  Poor child! the brother thought impatiently, the mother wistfully, how much bitterness would have been spared her could she only have loved Jim Byrd.

During the weeks that followed Thorne’s second return north, the two families were thrown together more and more intimately.  Blanche’s engagement and Warner’s increased illness served to break down all restraints.  All through the winter the boy had steadily lost ground, and as the spring progressed, instead of rallying as they hoped, his decline became more rapid.  The best advice was had, but science could only bear the announcement of bereavement; there was nothing to be done, the doctors said, save to alleviate pain, and let the end come peacefully; it was needless to worry the boy with change, or bootless experiments.  Even to the mother’s willfully blinded eyes, and falsely-fed hopes, conviction came at last that her son’s days were numbered.

Berkeley, Royall and other of the neighboring gentlemen took turns in aiding with the nursing and the night-watches, as is the custom in southern country neighborhoods where professional nurses are unknown.

Of all the kindly friends that watched and tended him through long weeks of illness, the one that Warner learned to love the best was Berkeley Mason.  There was a thoughtful strength in the nature of the man who had suffered, the soldier who had endured, which the weaker nature recognized and rested on.  To the general, during this time of trouble, the young man became, in very truth, a son; the old debt of kindness was canceled, and a new account opened with a change in the balance.

As is usual in cases of lingering consumption, the end was very sudden—­so sudden, in fact, that Norma, still away with her northern friends, received the telegram too late for word or look or farewell kiss.  She was traveling with Mrs. Vincent and the message followed her from place to place.