en unemotionalized by her presence, if the eloquence which
came to him in solitude would visit him once at her side, if he could
plead to her with the fervor with which he addressed the walls, full
surely her answer would be other. She would make no proffer then of
friendship, or if she did, it would be of that friendship which is born
of love, and is better than love itself. But as he walked on the
enchantment of the night encircled him. He declined to accept her reply;
he told himself that in his eagerness he had been abrupt; that a girl
who was worth the winning was slow of capture; that he had expected
months to give him what only years could afford, and that Time, in which
all things unroll, might yet hold this gift for him. He resolved to put
his impatience aside like an unbecoming coat. He would pretend to be but
a friend. As a friend he would be privileged to see her, and then, some
day the force and persistence of his affection would do the rest. He
smiled at his own cunning. It was puerile as a jack-straw, but it seemed
shrewdness itself to him. Yes, that was the way. He had done wrong; he
had unmasked his batteries too soon. And such batteries! But no matter,
of his patience he was now assured. On the morrow he would go to her and
begin the campaign anew.

He had reached the corner and was on the point of turning down the
avenue, when a hansom rattled up and wheeled so suddenly into the street
through which he had come, that he stepped back a little to let it pass.
As he did so he looked in at the fare. The cab was beyond him in a
second, but in the momentary glimpse which he caught of the occupant, he
recognized Royal Weldon. And as he continued his way, he wondered where
Royal Weldon could be going.

The following evening he went to dine at the Athenaeum Club. The house in
Waverley Place affected him as might an empty bier in a tomb. The bread
that he broke there choked him. His father was as congenial as a
spectre. He only appeared when dinner was announced, and after he had
seated himself at the table he asked grace of God in a low, determined
fashion, and that was the end of the conversation. Tristrem remembered
that in the infrequent vacations of his school and college days, that
was the way it always had been, and being tolerably convinced that that
was the way it always would be, he preferred, when not expected
elsewhere, to dine at the club.

On entering the Athenaeum on this particular evening, he