y good."

"Galt is afraid that what he calls 'the political change of heart' won't
last," Nicholas went on, "but he knows, as I know, that I am the choice
of the people and that, though a few of the leaders may distrust me, the
Democratic Party as a body has entire confidence in me. You will
understand that, had I doubted that the decision was free and
untrammelled, I should not have accepted the nomination."

The judge nodded with a smile. "I know," he said, "and I also know that
you were not born to be a politician. You will bear witness to it some
day. You should have stuck to law. But have you seen Dudley?"

The younger man's face clouded. When he spoke there was a triumphant
zest in his voice. His deeply-set eyes, which had at times a peculiarly
opaque quality, were now charged with light. The thick red locks flared
above his brow.

"He spoke pleasantly to me after the convention," he answered. "It was a
disappointment to him, I know--and I am sorry," he finished in a forced,
exclamatory manner, and was silent.

The judge looked at him for a moment before he went on in his even
tones.

"His wife was telling me," he said. "She was down here a week or two
before the convention. It seems that they are both anxious to return to
Richmond to live. She's a fine girl, is Eugie. It was a terrible thing
about that brother of hers, and she's never recovered from it. I can't
understand how the boy came to commit such a peculiarly stupid forgery."

A flash of bitterness crossed the other's face; his voice was hard.

"He has missed his deserts," he returned harshly.

"Oh, I don't know, poor fellow," murmured the judge, flinching from a
twinge of gout and settling his foot more carefully upon the stool. "He
has been a fugitive from the State for years and a stranger to his wife
and children. There was always something extraordinary in the fact that
he escaped after conviction, and I suppose there was a kind of honour in
his not breaking his bail. At least, that's the way Eugie seems to
regard it--and it is such a pitiful consolation that we might allow her
to retain it. She tells me that Bernard's wife has been in destitute
circumstances. It's a pity! it's a pity! I had always hoped that Tom
Battle's boy would turn out well."

The younger man met his eyes squarely and spoke in an emotionless voice.

"I should like to see him serving his sentence," he said.

An hour later he left the judge's house and walked out to hi