u know, Van Ness is--The idea that he was
favorable to it was suggested to me again yesterday when he proposed
that we should look up the captain and call upon him. He is not a man
who usually makes advances."

"Is Mr. Van Ness in New York with you?"

"Yes, certainly. I thought you knew that."

"And you propose to take him out to-night?"

"Why, that seemed a good plan. Unless you have some objection?"

"What objection can I have? What does it matter to me?" He stooped to
pat his dog, that sat upright watching his face.

"Surely, that is that savage wolf-hound of Miss Swendon's?"

"Yes. He divides his time between us." After a few minutes he said, "You
seem to anticipate no difficulty in the way of your conquering hero? Yet
Miss Swendon by no means belongs to the warm-blooded, susceptible order
of women. This Van Ness, as I remember him, is a starved,
insignificant-looking fellow."

"Oh, on the contrary! He has a very noble presence. Pliny is tall, with
much dignity of carriage."

"Pompous, eh? 'I am Sir Oracle'?"

"Nothing of the kind. Rather deprecating manner, with a calm face,
beaming blue eyes, and abundant fair hair and beard. The very finest of
Saxon types, in fact."

"Ah? But these reformers are apt to be underbred, irritable, with nasty
peculiarities of habits and manner which they never have thought it
worth while to cure. I suppose your friend is like his brethren?"

"Now, Neckart, just wait until you see Van Ness. You'll be charmed, or
I've no judgment. Most men are, and all women," laughing significantly.

They rose at the moment. As they left the room Neckart caught sight in a
mirror of his own dwarfed bulk and the massive head set in its black
mane. He stopped and looked for an instant at himself fixedly, a thing
which he had not done perhaps for years, and then walked on in silence
beside the judge. When they parted in the street he wrote a line on a
card and gave it to him.

"In case I am not able to go out on the same train with you, this is the
route to the farm," he said.

He could scarcely be courteous. He was in a rage of indignation. Not, of
course, that it mattered to him whether Jane married this or any other
man whom she loved. She was only an acquaintance--more perhaps--his
little friend. She must marry: he had thought of that often; and she
would love--with a strength and fidelity beyond that of any woman he had
ever known. He had often thought of that too. When the time came