gh the gate
of the enclosure interdicted to bare feet. There they led her to groups
of fashionable ladies, and got themselves into pretty scrapes. They said
she was an Indian. Heriot lost his wagers and called her a witch. She
replied, 'You'll find I'm one, young man,' and that was the only true
thing she spoke of the days to come. Owing to the hubbub around the two
who were guilty of this unmeasured joke upon consequential ladies, I
had to conduct her to the gate. Instantly, and without a good-bye, she
scrambled up her skirts and ran at strides across the road and through
the wood, out of sight. She won her dress and a piece of jewelry.

With Heriot I went on a sad expedition, the same I had set out upon with
Temple. This time I saw my father behind those high red walls, once so
mysterious and terrible to me. Heriot made light of prisons for debt.
He insisted, for my consolation, that they had but a temporary
dishonourable signification; very estimable gentlemen, as well
as scamps, inhabited them, he said. The impression produced by my
visit--the feasting among ruined men who believed in good luck the
more the lower they fell from it, and their fearful admiration of my
imprisoned father--was as if I had drunk a stupefying liquor. I was
unable clearly to reflect on it. Daily afterwards, until I released him,
I made journeys to usurers to get a loan on the faith of the reversion
of my mother's estate. Heriot, like the real friend he was, helped me
with his name to the bond. When my father stood free, I had the proudest
heart alive; and as soon as we had parted, the most amazed. For a long
while, for years, the thought of him was haunted by racketballs and
bearded men in their shirtsleeves; a scene sickening to one's pride.
Yet it had grown impossible for me to think of him without pride.
I delighted to hear him. We were happy when we were together. And,
moreover, he swore to me on his honour, in Mrs. Waddy's presence, that
he and the constable would henceforth keep an even pace. His exuberant
cheerfulness and charming playfulness were always fascinating. His
visions of our glorious future enchained me. How it was that something
precious had gone out of my life, I could not comprehend.

Julia Rippenger's marriage with Captain Bulsted was, an agreeable
distraction. Unfortunately for my peace of mind, she went to the altar
poignantly pale. My aunt Dorothy settled the match. She had schemed it,
her silence and half-downcast