here the Old Stage Road
led on to his father's farm.

He plodded ardently and earnestly, the consumptive young instructor
following his studies with the wistful eyes of one who sees another
striving where he has striven and failed. The students met him with
tolerant hilarity, and Tom Bassett, who would have kicked the
Declaration of Independence across the campus in lieu of a ball, watched
him with secret mirth and open championship. There had sprung up a
strong friendship between the two--one of those rare affections which
bend but do not break. Dudley Webb, the most brilliant member of his
class and the light of his mother's eyes, began life, as he would end
it, with the ready grasp of good-fellowship. He had long since outgrown
his artificial, childish distrust of Nicholas, and he had as long ago
forgotten that he had ever entertained it. As for Nicholas himself, he
had not forgotten it, but the memory was of little moment. He had a work
to do in life, and he did it as best he might. If it were the ploughing
of rocky soil, so much the worse; if the uprooting of dead men's
thoughts, so much the better. He slighted neither the one nor the other.

As he grew older he became tall and broad of chest, with shoulders which
suggested the athlete rather than the student. His hair had darkened to
a less flaming red, his eyes had grown brighter, and the freckles had
faded into a general gray tone of complexion.

"He will be the ugliest man in the State," said Mr. Burwell, inflating
his pink cheeks, with a return of youthful vanity, "but it is the
ugliness that attracts."

Nicholas had not heard, but, had he done so, the words would have left
a sting. He possessed an inherent regard for physical perfection,
rendered the greater by his own tormented childhood. He was strong and
vigorous and of well-knit sinews, but he would have given his muscle for
Dudley Webb's hands and his brains for the other's hair.

Once, as a half-grown boy, in a fit of jealousy inspired by Dudley's
good looks, he had called him "Miss Nancy," and knocked him down. When
his enemy had lain at his feet on the green he had raised him up and
made amends by standing motionless while Dudley lashed him with a small
riding-whip. The jealousy had vanished since then, but the smart was
still there.

At last the college days were over. Dudley was sent to the university of
the State; Tom Bassett and Bernard Battle soon followed, and Nicholas,
still plodding and