“But couldn’t funds be raised somehow, even yet?”

I shook my head.  “It is going to be hard in these times to raise funds in any way.  Values are bad now, and if the Republican party elects Lincoln next month, there will be no such things as values left in Virginia.  I don’t see how anything can save our property.”

“Well, I’m not so sure,” he went on, embarrassed.  “My father and I have been talking over these matters, and we concluded to ask you if we might not take a hand in this.  At least, we have agreed all along that—­in this case you know—­you and my sister—­we have planned definitely that you should live in your old place.  We’re going to take that over.  The redemption time has plenty of margin, and we can’t allow those people to come in here and steal one of the old Virginia places in that way.  We are going to arrange to hold that for you and my sister, and we thought that perhaps in time something could be worked out of the rest of the property in the same way.  That is, unless Colonel Meriwether, your father’s partner, shall offer some better solution.  I suppose you talked it over with him?”

“I did not talk with him about it at all,” said I, dully.  For many reasons I did not care to repeat all of my story to him.  I had told it often enough already.  “None the less, it seems very generous of you and your father to take this interest in me.  It would be very churlish of me if I did not appreciate it.  But I trust nothing has been done as yet—­”

“You trust not?  Why, Cowles, you speak as though you did not want us to do it.”

“I do not,” said I.

“Oh, then—­”

“You know our family well enough.”

“That’s true.  But you won’t be offended if I suggest to you that there are two sides to this, and two prides.  All the country knows of your engagement, and now that you have returned, it will be expected that my sister will set the day before long.  Of course, we shouldn’t want my sister to begin too far down—­oh, damn it, Cowles, you know what I mean.”

“I presume so,” said I to him, slowly.  “But suppose that your sister should offer to her friends the explanation that the change in my fortunes no longer leaves desirable this alliance with my family?”

“Do you suggest that?”

“I have not done so.”

“Has she suggested it?”

“We have not talked of it, yet it might be hard for your sister to share a lot so humble and so uncertain.”

“That I presume will be for her to decide,” he said slowly.  “I admit it is a hard question all around.  But, of course, in a matter of this kind, the man has to carry the heavy end of the log if there is one.  If that falls to you, we know you will not complain.”

“No,” said I, “I hope not.”

His forehead still remained furrowed with the old Sheraton wrinkles.  He seemed uneasy.  “By Jove,” he broke out at length, flushing as he turned to me, “it is hard for a fellow to tell sometimes what’s right, isn’t it?  Jack, you remember Jennie Williams, across under Catoctin?”