r own soul, and Clarence's. Angrily she had arisen
and paced the garden walks, and cried out aloud that it was not
inflexible.

And now, by the car window, looking out over the endless roll of the
prairie, the memory of this was bitter within her.

Suddenly she turned to her father.

"Did you rent our house at Glencoe?" she asked.

"No, Jinny."

"I suppose Mr. Brice was too proud to accept it at your charitable rent,
even to save Mr, Whipple's life."

The Colonel turned to his daughter in mild surprise. She was leaning back
on the seat, her eyes half closed.

"Once you dislike a person, Jinny, you never get over it. I always had a
fancy for the young man, and now I have a better opinion of him than ever
before. It was I who insulted them by naming that rent."

"What did he do?" Virginia demanded.

"He came to my office yesterday morning. 'Colonel Carvel,' said he, 'I
hear you wish to rent your house.' I said yes. 'You rented it once
before, sir,' said he. 'Yes,' said I. 'May I ask you what price you got
for it?' said he."

"And what did you say?" she asked, leaning forward.

"I told him," said the Colonel, smiling. "But I explained that I could
not expect to command that price now on short notice. He replied that
they would pay it, or not consider the place."

Virginia turned her head away and stared out over the fields.

"How could they afford it!" she murmured.

"Mr. Brinsmade tells me that young Brice won rather a remarkable case
last winter, and since then has had some practice. And that he writes for
the newspapers. I believe he declined some sort of an editorial position,
preferring to remain at the law."

"And so they are going into the house?" she asked presently.

"No," said the Colonel. "Whipple refused point-blank to go to the
country. He said that he would be shirking the only work of his life
likely to be worth anything. So the Brices remain in town."

Colonel Carvel sighed. But Virginia said nothing.

CHAPTER X.

RICHTER'S SCAR

This was the summer when Mr. Stephen Brice began to make his appearance
in public. The very first was rather encouraging than otherwise, although
they were not all so. It was at a little town on the outskirts of the
city where those who had come to scoff and jeer remained to listen.

In writing that speech Stephen had striven to bear in mind a piece of
advice which Mr. Lincoln had given him. "Speak so that the lowest may
understand, and the rest wil