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Updated: July 1, 2025
The Hertfords left the hills with uplifted and indignant heads they had the courage of their convictions and meant to take what little was left to them and demand recognition elsewhere they had always been rovers.
Two out of the three had captured almost every distinction that Oxford offers; and all three had been either gated for lengthy periods or "sent down," or otherwise trounced by an angry college, puzzled by the queer connection between Irelands and Hertfords on the one hand and tipsy frolics on the other. Meynell appeared for dinner somewhat late.
It had been one thing to know that his Uncle Levi Markham had taken another young man and set him on his feet, but quite another to realize that his uncle had adopted a poor white from the native hills of the Hertfords and was providing him with wings. A new element had entered into Lans.
"You have heard my proposition, Lansing; I mean to stand by it; unless you can accept my terms I shall change my will." Could Markham only have understood he would have known that it was the pride of his race, not the Hertfords', that spurred Lansing to retort angrily: "I did not know I was being bought. I thought you were doing it for what you believed was my good!" "And so I am!"
But the new-born republic was too busy and breathless to seek them out or pause to listen to their voices, which were softer, less insistent than others nearer by. In those far past times the Morleys and the Hertfords were equals and the Walden Place deserved its name of the Great House.
While he stood by Crothers he saw, in fancy, a noble home arise above the trees on the old Hertford place. He saw his Aunt Olive no! it was not his Aunt Olive that he saw; it was Treadwell's breath came fast it was Cynthia Walden who stood at the door of the uprisen house of the Hertfords and smiled her radiant smile of welcome to him!
"I tell you, sir," Crothers exclaimed, "the South has got to be reclaimed through blood; not mongrel blood backed by dirty money!" This sounded very fine to Lans Treadwell. "Now, I was a thinking this-er-way lately: 'Spose young Hertford came and took command 'stead of young Morley? 'Spose the old place of the Hertfords was rebuilt and the family established here again what would happen, sir?
The North, with its luxury and ease, will be hard to leave, but life is sacrifice to men, sir, and the day will dawn when the Hertfords will come to The Hollow with determination to control affairs. I'm going to hold their place ready, sir, for that day!" This sounded almost too fine to be true, and even Lans demanded details. Then it was that Crothers laid his foundations.
But Lost Hollow had its private opinion of the Hertfords, and when the County Club had been permitted to share the joke about that old story which had damned the Morleys, the club refused to laugh. Oddly enough they took sides with Martin Morley, and in their late understanding of facts made flattering overtures to Martin that embarrassed him deeply.
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