a
magnificent _dilettante_ sort of way which had worn an imposing air and
impressed his clients, and, as he was by inheritance a comparatively rich
man, he had not been driven by necessity to alter his methods. The sudden
prospect of becoming a multimillionaire excited him. He made Napoleonic
plans, and was dignified and eloquent.

"Why should I form a company?" he said. "If I am willing to make the
first ventures myself, the inevitable returns of profit will do the rest,
and there will be no complications. The De Willoughby Mine will be the De
Willoughby Mine alone. I prefer that it should be so."

The idea of being sole ruler in the scheme made him feel rather like a
king, and he privately enjoyed the sensation. He turned into money all
the property he could avail himself of; his library table was loaded with
books on mining; he invested in tons of machinery, which were continually
arriving from the North, or stopping on the way when it should have been
arriving. He sent for engineers from various parts of the country and
amazed them with the unprofessional boldness of his methods. He really
indulged in a few months of dignified riot, of what he imagined to be a
splendidly executive nature. The plans were completed, the machinery
placed, the engineers and cohorts of workmen engaged in tremendous
efforts, the Judge was beginning to reflect on the management of his
future millions, when--the first gun was fired on Fort Sumter.

That was the beginning, and apparently the end. Suddenly the storm of war
broke forth, and its tempest, surging through the land, swept all before
it. The country was inundated with catastrophes, capitalists foundered,
schemes were swamped, the armies surged to and fro. The De Willoughby
land was marched and fought over; scores of hasty, shallow graves were
dug in it and filled; buildings and machinery were destroyed as if a
tornado had passed by. The Judge was a ruined man; his realisable
property he had allowed to pass from his hands, his coal remained in the
bowels of the earth, the huge income he was to have drawn from it had
melted into nothingness.

Nothing could have altered the aspect of this tragedy; but there was a
singular fact which added to its intensity and bitterness. In such a
hot-bed of secession as was Delisleville, the fact in question was indeed
not easily explainable, except upon the grounds either of a Quixotic
patriotism or upon those of a general disposition to contradi