which always sustains a
true gentleman in his hour of need had come to his assistance. He fully
realized what this last cowardly blow meant. One after another his
several belongings had vanished: his priceless family heirlooms; his
dogs; and now the home of his ancestors. He was even denied further
shelter within its walls. But there were no regrets; his conscience
still sustained him; he would live it all over again. In his
determination to keep to his standards he had tried to stop a freshet
with a shovelful of clay; that was all. It was a foolhardy attempt, no
doubt, but he would have been heartily ashamed of himself if he had not
made the effort. Wesley, of course, was not a very exciting place
in which to spend the winter, but it was better than being under
obligations to Talbot Rutter; and then he could doubtless earn enough at
the law to pay his board--at least he would try.

He had reached the end of the walk and had already caught the glow of
the overhead lantern in the hall of the Horn mansion lighting up the
varied costumes of the guests as Malachi swung back the front door,
revealing the girls in their pink and white nubias, the gallants in long
cloaks with scarlet linings, the older men in mufflers, and the mothers
and grandmothers in silk hoods. There was no question of Richard's
popularity.

"Clar to goodness, Marse George, you is a sight for sore eyes," cried
Malachi, unhooking the clasp of the velvet collar and helping him off
with his cloak. "I ain't never seen ye looking spryer! Yes, sah, Marse
Richard's inside and he'll be mighty glad ye come. Yes--jedge--jes's
soon as I--Dat's it, mistis--I'll take dat shawl--No, sah, Marse Richard
ain't begun yit. Dis way, ladies," and so it had gone on since the
opening rat-a-tat-tat on the old brass knocker had announced the arrival
of the first guest.

Nor was there any question that everybody who could by any possibility
have availed themselves of Richard's invitation had put in an
appearance. Most of the men from the club known to these pages were
present, together with their wives and children--those who were old
enough to sit up late; and Nathan Gill, without his flute this time, but
with ears wide open--he was beginning to get gray, was Nathan, although
he wouldn't admit it; and Miss Virginia Clendenning in high waist and
voluminous skirts, fluffy side curls, and a new gold chain for her
eyeglasses--gold rims, too, of course--not to mention the Murdochs,