re had been his chance
for a livelihood, and a name; his chance to stand before the community
for what was good, and strong, and helpful. He had been proud because
his editorials were beginning to be quoted here and there; he had been
keenly ambitious for Sidney's plans, her hopes for Old Paloma. How vain
it all was now, and how preposterous it seemed that only an hour ago he
had let his thoughts of the future include her--always so far above
him, and now so infinitely removed!

She would be sympathetic, he knew; she would be all kindness and
generosity. And perhaps, six months ago, he would have accepted more
generosity from her; but Barry had found himself now, and he knew that
she had done for him all he would let her do.

He smiled suddenly and grimly as he remembered another bridge, just
burned behind him. If he had not promised Hetty's mother that her
income should go on uninterruptedly, he might have pulled something out
of this wreckage, after all. For a moment he speculated: he COULD sell
the Mission Street property now; he might even revive the MAIL, after a
while--

But no, what was promised was promised, after all, and poor little Mrs.
Scott must be left to what peace and pleasure the certainty of an
income gave her. And he must begin again, somehow, somewhere, burdened
with a debt, burdened with a heartache, burdened with--His heart turned
with sudden warmth to the thought of Billy; Billy at least, staunch
little partner of so many dark days, and bright, should not be counted
a burden.

Even as he thought of his son, a small warm hand slid into his with a
reassuring pressure, and lie looked down to see the little figure
beside him. Moment after moment went by, timid shafts of gold sunshine
were beginning to conquer the mist now, and still father and son stood
silent, hand in hand.

CHAPTER XVII

The mischief was done; no use to stand there by the smoking ruins of
what had been his one real hope for himself and his life. After a while
Barry roused himself. There seemed to be nothing to do at the moment,
no more to be said. He and Billy walked up River Street to their own
gate, but when they reached it, Barry, obeying an irresistible impulse,
merely left his coat and suit-case there, and went on through the Hall
gateway, and up to the house.

The sun was coming out bravely now, and already he felt its warmth in
the garden. Everywhere the fog was rising, was fading against the green
of the tree