His mind was one of a high order, without a scintilla of genius or any of its elements.  He had a powerful grasp, and elude, as it might, he finally clutched the idea or principle sought it never escaped him:  and he never rested until its soul and blood were his, or rejected as useless, after the application of every test.  It was a bad day for slavery when Giddings determined to enter Congress.  Cool, shrewd, adroit, wary and wily, never baffled, never off his guard and never bluffed; with a reserve of power and expedients always sufficient, with a courage that knew no blenching, he moved forward.  He had more industry and patience, and was a better lawyer than Wade, but was his inferior as an advocate.  They were opposed in the case in which Giddings appeared, and Bart already felt that in the atmosphere of the contest was the element of dislike on the part of Wade, and of cool, watchful care on the part of Giddings.  Wade made two or three headlong onsets, which were received and parried with bland, smiling coolness.  From his manner no one could tell what Giddings thought of his case or opponent.

Two or three evenings after, an informal “reception,” as it would now be called, was held at the Giddings residence, to which the students and nearly everybody else went.  It was a pleasant greeting between friends and neighbors, and a valued citizen, just home after a half year’s absence.  Nothing could be more kind and natural than the manner of Mr. Giddings, supported by motherly Mrs. Giddings, and the accomplished Miss Giddings, who had spent the winter with her father at Washington.  She was like her father, in mind and person, softened and sweetened and much more gracious by sex; tall, graceful, and with the easy presence and manner of society and cultivation.

Bart was taken to her, and taken by her at once.  She seemed like an old acquaintance, and spoke in the kindest terms of his brother, told him of Washington, its society and customs, and called him Barton at once, as if they were to be on the best of terms.  Bart could see that she was plain, but he forgot that in a moment, and it never occurred to him again.

In the course of the evening she returned to him, and said she wished to introduce him to a young lady friend, whom she was sure he would like on her own account, and on that of his brother, to whom she was to have been all that woman might be.  It took Bart’s breath away.  He was unaware that his brother had ever been engaged, or wished to be, to any lady.

“She knows you are in Jefferson,” said Miss Giddings, “and has wanted very much to see you.”

She conducted him into a small sitting-room, and leading:  him up to a young lady in black, introduced him to Miss Aikens—­Ida Aikens.  The young lady came forward, gave him her little hand, and looked him full and sadly in the face.  “You are like him,” she said, “and I have much wanted to see you.”

“I received a letter from you,” said Bart, “and fear my answer was a poor one.  Had I known you better, I could have written differently.  My brother was more to me than most brothers can be, and all who were dear to him come at once into my tenderest regard.”