The judge lurched heavily out of his chair and rose unsteadily to his feet in the sudden, angry excitement that flames out of drink.

“By—!  ’Pon my soul, young sir, you are taking a high hand in my house.  Keep your place, sir, keep your place!  Who are you that come here putting your hand on my niece, and ordering the family about?  Come to me, Ruth!  Come to me instantly!”

Philip Alston laid a restraining hand on his arm, and even William Pressley uttered a warning word.  In the presence of the girl there must not be a violent word, much less a violent deed, no matter what the feelings of the men might be, and no matter what might come after.  That was the first article in the code of chivalry toward women which ruled these first Kentuckians, as it rules most brave, strong men living simple, strenuous lives in the open.  It ruled the judge also, as soon as he had time to think, and controlled him through all the fog that clouded his faculties.

“My dear,” he appealed humbly, piteously, bending his rough gray head before the girl, “I beg your pardon.”

She flew to him and ran her arm through his, thus ranging herself on his side with a fiery air of loyalty, and she turned on her lover with her soft eyes flashing:—­

“How can you, Paul!  I am surprised.  I wouldn’t have believed it of you.  What do you mean by speaking so to my uncle Robert?  Don’t you see he isn’t well?  You must know that when he is well everybody respects and looks up to him—­that the whole county depends on him,” she said.

The old judge and the young doctor looked at each other over her head as men look at one another when women do things as true to their nature as this was to hers.  And then, in spite of themselves, the judge’s left eyebrow went up very high, and a sunny smile brightened the doctor’s grave face.  Even Philip Alston smiled and felt a sudden relief.  With such a child as Ruth had just shown herself to be, there must be some hope of leading her by gentleness and persuasion.  There was, at least, a chance to gain time, and he moved eagerly to seize it.  He looked at William Pressley with an expression of undisguised contempt, seeing him stand utterly unmoved.  He could not help giving a glance of scorn, which measured him against Paul Colbert.  Who could blame the girl?  Nevertheless Philip Alston went to her and took her hand from the judge’s arm, and placed it within his own.  Holding it fast against his side, he turned to the doctor.

“It might be best for all concerned if you would allow us to talk this matter over quietly among ourselves.  We hardly know what to say, having it sprung in this totally unexpected way.  If you would be so kind as to leave us for the present—­”