Mr. Garland settled some miles from where Chittenden lived his lonely life; but in a wilderness those who live miles away are considered neighbors. Mr. Chittenden visited them, and, though charmed by the beauty of the daughter, he had no thoughts of giving up his bachelor life.
But misfortune seemed to have followed Mr. Garland. He had not been there a year before his wife died, and in a few months he followed her.
Before this Mr. Chittenden had not thought of marriage, but now the helplessness of the girl appealed to him. He proposed and was accepted. He never had cause to regret his action, for beautiful Grace Garland made a wife of whom any man might be proud.
His marriage also made a great change in Mr. Chittenden. The house was enlarged and beautified. He greatly prospered, and in time became one of the prominent men in his section of the country. He was called Judge, and sent to the Legislature, and was even pressed to run for Congress. Against this he resolutely set his face. The ghost of the past arose and frightened him. As a congressman his past might be traced.
A couple of years after his marriage a daughter was born and was named Grace, after her mother.
Mr. Chittenden continued to prosper, and in time bought a few slaves. This put him on a higher plane, for to be a slave-holder was to belong to the aristocracy, and it was a matter of pride among the Ozarks that Mr. Chittenden owned slaves.
Little Grace grew up a true child of the mountains, as wild and free as the birds. When she was about ten years of age her mother died. If it had not been for his daughter, Mr. Chittenden would have lost all interest in life. Now everything centered in her, and she became a part of his very life.
The death of his wife left him without a competent housekeeper, so one day he informed Grace he was going to St. Louis to see if he could not buy a colored woman recommended as a good housekeeper, and that if she liked she might go with him.
The girl was overjoyed, for she had never been away from her lovely valley home. The hills to her had been the boundary of the world, and often as she gazed at them she would wonder and wonder what was beyond. The birds were her friends, and they seemed to sing of things she did not know. They had wings and could fly and explore that wonderful beyond. She often wished she too had wings, so she might fly with the birds—then she would know too.
Her mother early had taught her to read, and Mr. Chittenden had gathered quite a library. Grace read every book in it with avidity, but they told her of a world she could not understand.