e in the city at that time) had been
ransacked for the occasion, and nothing was left to fit him. But when he
reached home there was a strong smell of camphor in his mother's room.
Colonel Brice's cocked hat and sword and spurs lay on the bed, and
presently Hester brought in the blue coat and buff waistcoat from the
kitchen, where she had been pressing them. Stephen must needs yield to
his mother's persuasions and try them on--they were more than a passable
fit. But there were the breeches and cavalry boots to be thought of, and
the ruffled shirt and the powdered wig. So before tea he hurried down
to the costumer's again, not quite sure that he was not making a fool
of himself, and yet at last sufficiently entered into the spirit of the
thing. The coat was mended and freshened. And when after tea he dressed
in the character, his appearance was so striking that his mother could
not refrain from some little admiration. As for Hester, she was in
transports. Stephen was human, and young. But still the frivolity of
it all troubled him. He had inherited from Colonel Wilton Brice, the
Puritan, other things beside clothes. And he felt in his heart as he
walked soberly to the hall that this was no time for fancy dress balls.
All intention of going was banished by the time his turn had come to
speak.

But mark how certain matters are beyond us. Not caring to sit out the
meeting on the platform, he made his way down the side of the crowded
hall, and ran into (of all people) big Tom Catherwood. As the Southern
Rights politics of the Catherwood family were a matter of note in the
city, Stephen did not attempt to conceal his astonishment. Tom himself
was visibly embarrassed. He congratulated Stephen on his speech, and
volunteered the news that he had come in a spirit of fairness to hear
what the intelligent leaders of the Republican party, such as Judge
Whipple, had to say. After that he fidgeted. But the sight of him
started in Stephen a train of thought that closed his ears for once
to the Judge's words. He had had before a huge liking for Tom. Now he
admired him, for it was no light courage that took one of his position
there. And Stephen remembered that Tom was not risking merely the
displeasure of his family and his friends, but likewise something of
greater value than, either. From childhood Tom had been the devoted
slave of Virginia Carvel, with as little chance of marrying her as a man
ever had. And now he was endangering eve