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CHAPTER I – PERIL AND PASSION
CHAPTER II – A SONG WITHOUT WORDS
CHAPTER III – A WOMAN'S WORD
CHAPTER IV – THE BEST LAID PLANS
CHAPTER V – PLEASANT DREAMS AND AN UGLY AWAKENING
CHAPTER VI – OUT OF A CLEAR SKY
CHAPTER VII – IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
CHAPTER VIII – THE SHADOWS FALL
CHAPTER IX – THE COURAGE OF WOMANHOOD
CHAPTER X – THE PACKET OF PAPERS
CHAPTER XI – THE EVENTS OF A MORNING
CHAPTER XII – AFTER THE STORM
CHAPTER XIII – "AUNT BETSY" TAKES THE HELM
CHAPTER XIV – WESTOVER AT WANALAH
CHAPTER XV – UP AT JUDY'S
CHAPTER XVI – JUDY PETERS'S DIAGNOSIS
CHAPTER XVII – JUDY INFORMS HERSELF AND MAKES PLANS
CHAPTER XVIII – JUDY PLANS A CAMPAIGN
CHAPTER XIX – THE BEGINNING OF A CAMPAIGN
CHAPTER XX – THE SATISFACTION OF W. W. WEBB
CHAPTER XXI – FLAGS FLYING
CHAPTER XXII – AN UNMISTAKABLE CURE
CHAPTER XXIII – COURT DAY
CHAPTER XXIV – A PERFECT WOMAN—AND A MAN
CHAPTER XXV – THE GREAT RENUNCIATION
CHAPTER XXVI – MOONLIGHT RESOLUTIONS
CHAPTER XXVII – THE PHILOSOPHY OF JACK TOWNS
CHAPTER XXVIII – THE EVENTS OF A DAY
CHAPTER XXIX – THE WORK OF A WILD WIND
CHAPTER XXX – WHAT HAD HAPPENED AT THE OAKS
CHAPTER XXXI – A SUNSET INTERVIEW
CHAPTER XXXII – WHAT HAPPENED AT FIGHTING CREEK
CHAPTER XXXIII – CONSPIRACIES
CHAPTER XXXIV – JUDY'S PLANS OF CAMPAIGN
CHAPTER XXXV – A MOUNTAIN TOP REVELATION
CHAPTER XXXVI – THE MEETING AT THE OAKS
CHAPTER XXXVII – THE OLD CLOCK TICKS AGAIN
One midsummer morning in the late eighteen-fifties, Boyd Westover of Wanalah was riding along a Virginia plantation road, accompanied by half a dozen hounds, for whose discipline and restraint he carried a long, flexible black-snake whip. The weapon played the part of sceptre rather than that of sword. The young man had no intention of striking the dogs with it, but whenever their exuberance broke bounds he cracked the lash in air, making a report like that of a pistol shot, and the reminder of his authority was quite sufficient for purposes of canine discipline.
He was not hunting. He was merely riding to a distant part of the plantation he controlled, to inspect the work of the negroes there and to give directions for its proper doing. But he liked the company of his dogs and enjoyed their mad relish of the morning.
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She lay quiet for a minute or two seemingly asleep, and he, moved by a sudden impulse—whether of passion or pity he knew not—bent over and pressed his lips to hers—gently uttering her name—"Margaret."
Instantly he repented, as she opened her eyes and with a flushing face tried to raise herself to a sitting posture, saying as she made the effort.
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