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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Yes, but you can stop them happening very often." "How?" "Just by willing it." "Yes," said Phyl meditatively, "but how are you to use your will against what comes unexpectedly. Now that telegram yesterday morning took me to Grangersons with Miss Pinckney. Suppose suppose I had broken my leg or, say, fallen into a well there and got drowned that would have been Fate."
Here nothing happened but the change of season, night and day, the chorus of frogs and the crying of the white owl amidst the trees. Miss Pinckney and Phyl left Grangersons next morning at seven o'clock to return to Charleston. During the night the Colonel had sent after the horses and they had been captured and brought back. The broken phaëton was left for the present.
By the road, reckoning from where the accident had occurred, it would be fifteen. But the lie of the place or the distance from Grangersons mattered little to Silas. His mind was going through a process difficult to describe. Silas had never cared for anything, not even for himself. Danger or safety did not enter into his calculations.
Weakness had always repelled him, whether it was the weakness of the knees of a horse or the weakness of the will of a man. Phyl's weakness did not repel him but it took the edge from his passion. It was almost a form of ugliness. He had determined on finding help to send some one back for Phyl; any of the coloured folk hereabouts would be able to pilot her to Grangersons.
I want to have you all for myself, have ever since the first moment I saw you over there at Grangersons." "Don't," said Phyl. "I can't listen to you if you talk like that Please don't." "Very well," said Silas. The quick change that was one of his characteristics showed itself in his altered voice.
He wanted Phyl, he did not want to write letters to her. There is something to be said for this manner of love-making, it is sincere at all events. He tried to think of something else and he only succeeded in thinking of Phyl in another dress. He saw her as he saw her that first day in the stable yard at Grangersons. Then he saw her as she was dressed that day in Charleston.
Miss Pinckney got out of the car despite herself, half laughing, half angry, and taking the gallantly proffered arm found herself being led up the steps of Grangersons, pausing half way up to introduce Phyl, whom she had completely forgotten till now.
Colonel Seth, despite the war, had plenty of roses and Grangersons was kept up in the old style. Just as in Nuremberg and Vittoria we see mediæval cities preserved, so to speak, under glass, so at Grangersons one found the old Plantation, house and all, miraculously intact, living, almost, one might say, breathing. The price of cotton did not matter much to the Colonel, nor the price of haulage.
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