d at his absence of sensibility. "And
yet," he mused, "in his way he has been kind to me. He has been kind;
that is, if it be kindness in a father to let a son absolutely alone.
After all, filial affection must be like patriotism, ingrained as an
obligation, a thing to blush at if not possessed. Yet then, again, if a
country acts like a step-mother to its children, if a father treats a
son as a guardian might treat a ward, the ties are conventional; and on
what shall affection subsist? It was he who called me into being, and,
having done so, he assumed duties which he should not have shirked. It
was not for him to make himself a stranger to me; it was for him to
teach me to honor him so much, to love him so well that at his death my
head would be bowed in prostrations of grief. I used to try to school
myself to think that it was only his way; that, outwardly cold and
undemonstrative, his heart was warm as another's. But--well, it may have
been, it may have been. After all, if I can't grieve, I would cross the
continent to spare him a moment's pain. It was he, I suppose, who told
Harris to wire. Yes, I must hurry."

He called the servant to him. "Can you tell me, please, when the next
train goes?" But the servant had no knowledge whereon to base a reply.
She suggested, however, that information might be obtained at an inn
which stood a short distance up the road. He scribbled a few lines on a
card, and gave it to the woman. "Take that to Miss Raritan, please, will
you?" he said, and left the house.

At the inn a very large individual sat on the stoop, coatless, a straw
covering of a remoter summer far back on his head, and his feet turned
in. He listened to Tristrem with surly indifference, and spat profusely.
He didn't know; he reckoned the morning train had gone.

"Hay, Alf," he called out to the negro who had taken Tristrem from the
station the night before, and who was then driving by, "when's the next
train go?"

"'Bout ten minutes; I just took a party from Taylor's."

"Thank you," said Tristrem to the innkeeper, who spat again by way of
acknowledgment. "Can you take me to the station?" he asked the negro;
and on receiving an affirmative reply, he told him to stop at Mrs.
Raritan's for his traps.

As Tristrem entered the gate he saw Viola's assistant of the preceding
evening drive up, waving a hat.

"I got it," the man cried out, "here it is. First time it ever passed a
night out of doors, I'll bet. And none