"
"I never would have put you to that test, my poor lad, but that I saw
your conscience at work all this day under the stimulation of virtuous
love. Think nothing of me. Build your own character upon some good
example, and, sweet as life is, fight for it on the very frontiers of
your character. _Die_ young, but surrender only when you are old."
"Captain," Levin said, "how kin I git character? My father is dead.
Everybody twists me around his fingers."
"Then think of some plain, strong, faithful man you may know and refer
every act of your character to him. Ask yourself what he would do in
your predicament, then go and do the same."
"I do know such a man," Levin said, in another moment; "It is Jimmy
Phoebus, my poor, beautiful mother's beau."
"_El rayo ha caido!_" Van Dorn spoke, low and calm; "yes, Levin, any man
worthy of your mother will do."
"Captain, turn back with me! Is it too late?"
"Too late these many years, young _senor_. I shall lead the war on
Africa to-night again at Cowgill House."
He rose and finished the wine.
"Clark shall give you a horse, Levin. I present it to you. Ride on with
Sorden at the lead, and a mile from here, at Camden town, take your own
way. Good-night!"
Taking a single look at the miserable band of whites and blacks
collected in the barn, and revealed by a lantern's light in the
excitement of drink and avarice, or the familiarity of fear and
vice--some inspecting gags of corn-cob and bucks of hickory, others
trimming clubs of blackjack with the roots attached; others loading
their horse-pistols and greasing the dagger-slides thereon; some
whetting their hog-killing knives upon harness, others cutting rope and
cord into the lengths to bind men's feet--Levin was set on the loping
horse he had been already riding, by Clark, the host, and soon met
Sorden on the road.
Pages:
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503