f honor and had not meant to insult him. It was Temple's
love for Harry which had incited the quixotic onslaught, for, as he
knew, St. George dearly loved the boy, and this in itself wiped all
resentment from the autocrat's heart. As to Harry's attitude toward
himself, this he continued to reason was only a question of time. That
young upstart had not learned his lesson yet--a harsh lesson, it was
true, and one not understood by the world at large--but then the world
was not responsible for his son's bringing up. When the boy had learned
it, and was willing to acknowledge the error of his ways, then, perhaps,
he might kill the fatted calf--that is, of course, if the prodigal
should return on all fours and with no stilted and untenable ideas about
his rights--ideas that St. George, of course, was instilling into him
every chance he got.

So far, however, he had had to admit to himself that while he had kept
steady watch of the line of hills skirting his mental horizon, up to
the present moment no young gentleman in a dilapidated suit of clothes,
inverted waist measure, and lean legs had shown himself above the sky
line. On the contrary, if all reports were true--and Alec omitted no
opportunity to keep him advised of Marse Harry's every movement--the
young Lord of Moorlands was having the time of his life, even if his
sweetheart had renounced him and his father forced him into exile. Not
only had he found a home and many comforts at Temple's--being treated as
an honored guest alongside of such men as Kennedy and Latrobe, Pancoast,
and the others, but now that St. George had publicly declared him to
be his heir, these distinctive marks of his approbation were likely
to continue. Nor could he interfere, even if he wished to--which, of
course, he did not, and never could so long as he lived.... "Damn him!"
etc., etc. And with this the book would drop from his lap and he begin
pacing the floor, his eyes on the carpet, his broad shoulders bent in
his anxiety to solve the problem which haunted him night and day:--how
to get Harry back under his roof and not yield a jot or tittle of his
pride or will--or, to be more explicit, now that the mountain would not
come to Mahomet, how could Mahomet get over to the mountain?

His friend and nearest neighbor, John Gorsuch, who was also his man
of business, opened the way. The financier's clerk had brought him
a letter, just in by the afternoon coach, and with a glance at its
contents th