aving Tom Vanrevel on the other side.
There was nothing about him of the floridity prevalent at that time; he
withered "oratory" before the court; he was the foe of jury pathos; and,
despising noise and the habitual voice-dip at the end of a sentence,
was, nevertheless, at times an almost fearfully effective orator. So,
by degrees the firm of Gray & Vanrevel, young as it was, and in spite
of the idle apprentice, had grown to be the most prosperous in the
district. For this eminence Crailey was never accused of assuming the
credit. Nor did he ever miss an opportunity of making known how much he
owed to his partner. What he owed, in brief, was everything. How well
Vanrevel worked was demonstrated every day, but how hard he worked,
only Crailey knew. The latter had grown to depend upon him for even his
political beliefs, and lightly followed his partner into Abolitionism;
though that was to risk unpopularity, bitter hatred, and worse.
Fortunately, on certain occasions, Vanrevel had made himself (if not
his creed) respected, at least so far that there was no longer danger
of mob-violence for an Abolitionist in Rouen. He was a cool-headed
young man ordinarily, and possessed of an elusive forcefulness not to
be trifled with, though he was a quiet man, and had what they called a
"fine manner." And, not in the latter, but in his dress, there was an
echo of the Beau, which afforded Mr. Gray a point of attack for sallies
of wit; there was a touch of the dandy about Vanrevel; he had a large
and versatile wardrobe, and his clothes always fit him not only in line
but in color; even women saw how nobly they were fashioned.

These two young men were members of a cheerful band, who feasted,
laughed, wrangled over politics, danced, made love, and sang terrible
chords on summer evenings, together, as young men will. Will Cummings,
editor of the Rouen Journal, was one of these; a tall, sallow man, very
thin, very awkward and very gentle. Mr. Cummings proved himself always
ready with a loud and friendly laugh for the poorest joke in the world,
his countenance shining with such kindness that no one ever had the
heart to reproach him with the evils of his journalistic performances,
or for the things he broke when he danced. Another was Tappingham Marsh,
an exceedingly handsome person, somewhat languid in appearance, dainty
in manner with women, offhand with men; almost as reckless as Crailey,
and often the latter's companion and assistant in