mething that her mother had said remained in her mind.

"He knows so much, mamma," said Alice one day. "Why, he can quote whole
pages of poetry."

"He is too romantic, my dear, to be practical," said Mrs. Yorke, who
looked at the young men who approached her daughter with an eye as cool
as a physician's glass. "He, perhaps, does know more about books than
any boy of his age I am acquainted with; but poetry is a very poor thing
to live on; and if he were practical he would not be teaching that
wretched little school in the wilderness."

"But, mamma, he will rise. You don't know how ambitious he is, and what
determination he has. They have lost everything. The place that Ferdy
Wickersham told me about his father owning, with its old pictures and
all that, was his old home. Old Mr. Keith, since he lost it, has been
farming it for Mr. Wickersham. Think of that!"

"Just so," said Mrs. Yorke. "He inherits it. They are all unpractical.
Your father began life poor; but he was practical, and he had the
ability to succeed."

Alice's face softened. "Dear old dad!" she said; "I must write to him."
Even as she thought of him she could not but reflect how absorption in
business had prevented his obtaining the culture of which this young
school-teacher had given her a glimpse, and had crushed, though it could
not wholly quench, the kindliness which lived in his big heart.

Though Alice defended Keith, she felt in her heart there was some truth
in her mother's estimate. He was too romantic. She soon had proof of it.

General Keith came up to the Ridge just then to see Gordon. At least, he
gave this out as the reason for his visit, and Gordon did not know until
afterwards that there was another reason for it--that he had been in
correspondence for some time with Dr. Balsam. He was looking thin; but
when Gordon spoke of it, he put it by with a smile.

"Oh, I am very well. We need not worry about my troubles. I have but
two: that old wound, and Old Age; both are incurable."

Gordon was very pleased to have the opportunity to introduce his father
to Mrs. Yorke and Miss Alice. As he scanned the thin, fine face with its
expression of calm and its lines of fortitude, he felt that it was a
good card to play. His resemblance to the man-in-armor that hung in the
old dining-room had increased.

The General and Miss Alice promptly became great friends. He treated her
with a certain distinction that pleased her. Mrs. Yorke, too, was both