To-morrow, when the Governor's ball was over, when he could decently get
away, he would leave the town; he would go to his house in the country.
Late flowers bloomed in his garden; the terrace was fair above the river;
beneath the red brick wall, on the narrow little creek shining like a
silver highway, lay a winged boat; and the highway ran past a glebe house;
and in the glebe house dwelt a dryad whose tree had closed against her.
Audrey!--a fair name. Audrey, Audrey!--the birds were singing it; out of
the deep, Arcadian shadows any moment it might come, clearly cried by
satyr, Pan, or shepherd. Hark! there was song--

It was but a negro on the road behind, singing to himself as he went about
his master's business. The voice was the voice of the race, mellow, deep,
and plaintive; perhaps the song was of love in a burning land. He passed
the white man, and the arching trees hid him, but the wake of music was
long in fading. The road leading through a cool and shady dell, Haward
left it, and took possession of the mossy earth beneath a holly-tree.
Here, lying on the ground, he could see the road through the intervening
foliage; else the place had seemed the heart of an ancient wood.

It was merry lying where were glimpses of blue sky, where the leaves
quivered and a squirrel chattered and a robin sang a madrigal. Youth the
divine, half way down the stair of misty yesterdays, turned upon his heel
and came back to him. He pillowed his head upon his arm, and was content.
It was well to be so filled with fancies, so iron of will, so headstrong
and gay; to be friends once more with a younger Haward, with the Haward of
a mountain pass, of mocking comrades and an irate Excellency.

From the road came a rumble of oaths. Sailors, sweating and straining,
were rolling a very great cask of tobacco from a neighboring warehouse
down to the landing and some expectant sloop. Haward, lying at ease,