sir--Nicholas--Nicholas Burr."

"Yes, Nicholas," repeated the judge doubtfully; "yes, I remember, what
does he want? Amos Burr's son--we must give him a chance."

For a moment he wandered on; then his memory returned in uncertain
pauses. He looked again at the younger man, his sight grown stronger.
"Why, Nicholas, my dear boy, this is good of you," he exclaimed. "I had
a fall--a slight fall of no consequence. I shall be all right if Caesar
will let me fast a while. Caesar's getting old, I fear, he moves so
slowly."

He was silent, and Nicholas, sitting beside the bed, kept his eyes on
the delicate features that were the lingering survival of a lost type.
The splendid breadth of the brow, the classic nose, the firm, thin lips,
and the shaven chin--these were all downstairs on faded canvases,
magnificent over lace ruffles, or severe above folded stocks. Over the
pillows the chrysanthemums shed a golden light that mingled in his mind
with the warm brightness of Mrs. Burwell's smile--giving the room the
festive glimmer of an autumn garden.

A little later Caesar shuffled forward, the wineglass in his hand. The
judge turned towards him. "Is that you, Caesar?" he asked.

The old negro hurried to the bedside. "Here I is, Marse George; I'se
right yer."

The judge laughed softly. "I wouldn't take five thousand dollars for
you, Caesar," he said. "Tom Battle offered me one thousand for you, and I
told him I wouldn't take five. You are worth it, Caesar--every cent of
it--but there's no man alive shall own you. You're free, Caesar--do you
hear, you're free!"

"Thanky, Marse George," said Caesar. He passed his arm under the judge's
head and raised him as he would a child. As the glass touched his lips
the judge spoke in a clear voice. "To the ladies!" he cried.

"He is regaining the use of his limbs," whispered Mrs. Burwell softly.
"He will be well again," and Nicholas left the room and went downstairs.
At the door he gave his instructions to a woman servant. "I shall return
to spend the night," he said. "You will see that my room is ready. Yes,
I'll be back to supper." He had had no dinner, but at the moment this
was forgotten. In the relief that had come to him he wanted solitude and
the breadth of the open fields. He was going over the old ground
again--to breathe the air and feel the dust of the Old Stage Road.

He passed the naked walls of the church and followed the wide white
street to the college gate. Then, turnin