y other, perhaps, had
brought about. This was something no one questioned, and he quickly
passed to the first phase of that unique and peculiar esteem in which he
was ever after held. His fame widened with the succeeding suns; he had
offers of help which impressed him as so entirely creditable to human
nature that he quite lacked the heart to refuse them, especially as he
felt that in the improvement of his own condition the world had bettered
itself and was moving nearer those sound and righteous ideals of
morality and patriotism which had never lacked his indorsement, no
matter how inexpedient it had seemed for him to put them into practice.
But he was not diverted from his ultimate purpose by the glamour of
a present popularity; he was able to keep his bleared eyes resolutely
fixed on the main chance, namely the Fentress estate and the Quintard
lands. It was highly important that he should go east to South Carolina
to secure documentary evidence that would establish his own and
Fentress' identity, to Kentucky, where Fentress had lived prior to his
coming to Tennessee.

Early in November the judge set out by stage on his journey east; he was
accompanied by Yancy and Hannibal, from neither of whom could he bring
himself to be separated; and as the woods, flaming now with the touch of
frost, engulfed the little town, he turned in his seat and looked back.
He had entered it by that very road, a beggar on foot and in rags;
he was leaving it in broadcloth and fine linen, visible tokens of his
altered fortunes. More than this, he could thrust his hands deep down
into his once empty pockets and hear the clink of gold and silver. The
judge slowly withdrew his eyes from the last gray roof that showed among
the trees, and faced the east and the future with a serenely confident
expression.

Betty Malroy and Carrington had ridden into Raleigh to take leave of
their friends. They had watched the stage from sight, had answered the
last majestic salute the judge had given them across the swaying top of
the coach before the first turn of the road hid it from sight, and then
they had turned their horses' heads in the direction of Belle Plain.

"Bruce, do you think judge Price will ever be able to accomplish all he
hopes to?" Betty asked when they had left the town behind. She drew
in her horse as she spoke, and they went forward at a walk under the
splendid arch of the forest and over a carpet of vivid leaves.

"I reckon he will,