ed and faced me.

"You must be tired, David," he said.

I nodded.

"And hungry? Boys are always hungry."

"Yes, sir."

"You had no dinner?"

"No, sir," I answered, off my guard.

"Mercy!" he said. "It is a long time since breakfast."

"I had no breakfast, sir."

"Good God!" he said, and pulled the velvet handle of a cord. A negro
came.

"Is the supper for the guests ready?"

"Yes, Marsa."

"Then bring as much as you can carry here," said the gentleman. "And ask
Mrs. Lowndes if I may speak with her."

Mrs. Lowndes came first. And such a fine lady she was that she
frightened me, this being my first experience with ladies. But when Mr.
Lowndes told her my story, she ran to me impulsively and put her arms
about me.

"Poor lad!" she said. "What a shame!"

I think that the tears came then, but it was small wonder. There were
tears in her eyes, too.

Such a supper as I had I shall never forget. And she sat beside me for
long, neglecting her guests, and talking of my life. Suddenly she turned
to her husband, calling him by name.

"He is Alec Ritchie's son," she said, "and Alec has gone against
Cameron."

Mr. Lowndes did not answer, but nodded.

"And must he go to Temple Bow?"

"My dear," said Mr. Lowndes, "I fear it is our duty to send him there."

CHAPTER IV. TEMPLE BOW

In the morning I started for Temple Bow on horseback behind one of Mr.
Lowndes' negroes. Good Mrs. Lowndes had kissed me at parting, and
tucked into my pocket a parcel of sweetmeats. There had been a few grave
gentlemen to see me, and to their questions I had replied what I could.
But tell them of Mr. Temple I would not, save that he himself had told
me nothing. And Mr. Lowndes had presently put an end to their talk.

"The lad knows nothing, gentlemen," he had said, which was true.

"David," said he, when he bade me farewell, "I see that your father has
brought you up to fear God. Remember that all you see in this life is
not to be imitated."

And so I went off behind his negro. He was a merry lad, and despite the
great heat of the journey and my misgivings about Temple Bow, he made me
laugh. I was sad at crossing the ferry over the Ashley, through thinking
of my father, but I reflected that it could not be long now ere I saw
him again. In the middle of the day we stopped at a tavern. And at
length, in the abundant shade of evening, we came to a pair of great
ornamental gates set between brick pillars capped with white ba