en?
Why, too, had Kate turned away from him? He had promised her never to
drink again; he had kept that promise, and, God helping him, he would
always keep it, as would any other man who had seen what he had just
seen to-night. Perhaps he had trespassed in the duel, and yet he would
fight Willits again were the circumstances the same, and in this view
Uncle George upheld him. But suppose he had trespassed--suppose he had
committed a fault--as his father declared--why should not Kate forgive
him? She had forgiven Willits, who was drunk, and yet she would not
forgive him, who had not allowed a drop to pass his lips since he had
given her his promise. How could she, who could do no wrong, expect to
be forgiven herself when she not only shut her door in his face, but
left him without a word or a line? How could his father ask forgiveness
of his God when he would not forgive his son? Why were these two
different from his mother and his Uncle George, and even old Alec--who
had nothing but sympathy for him? Perhaps his education and training
had been at fault. Perhaps, as Richard Horn had said, his standards of
living were old-fashioned and quixotic.

Only when the gray dawn stole in through the small window of his room
did the boy fall asleep.

CHAPTER XVI

Not only Kennedy Square, but Moorlands, rang with accounts of the dinner
and its consequences. Most of those who were present and who witnessed
the distressing spectacle had only words of sympathy for the unfortunate
man--his reverent manner, his contrite tones, and abject humiliation
disarming their criticism. They felt that some sudden breaking down
of the barriers of his will, either physical or mental, had led to the
catastrophe. Richard Horn voiced the sentiments of Poe's sympathizers
when, in rehearsing the episode the next afternoon at the club, he had
said:

"His pitiable condition, gentlemen, was not the result of debauchery.
Poe neither spoke nor acted like a drunken man; he spoke and acted like
a man whom a devil had overcome. It was pathetic, gentlemen, and it was
heart-rending--really the most pitiful sight I ever remember witnessing.
His anguish, his struggle, and his surrender I shall never forget; nor
will his God--for the prayer came straight from his heart."

"I don't agree with you, Horn," interrupted Clayton. "Poe was plumb
drunk! It is the infernal corn whiskey he drinks that puts the devil
in him. It may be he can't get anything else,