“Why, he didn’t say much, and I’m sure I didn’t get any meaning out of what he did say!  His words were, ’Mr. Mocket, I wish I could remember all that, on several occasions, I must have said to you.’  Seeing,” continued Tom, “that I haven’t spoken to him more than a dozen times in my life, I shouldn’t consider there would be much difficulty in that, and I told him as much.  ‘You’re mistaken,’ he said.  ’It is difficult.  We all have bad memories.  I’ve been wondering, seeing that I have talked to you of so much, if I ever talked to you of that.  On the whole, I don’t think that I ever have.  Cultivate your memory, Mr. Mocket.  Mine is a damnably poor one.’  And so,” ended Tom, “he rode away and left me staring.  I don’t know whether his head is turned or not, but he looked strong enough for anything and all a Cary.  If you know what he meant, it is more than I do.  These reports are all straight enough now.  Do you want to look over them?”

“No,” said his partner, and stood up, moving back his chair with a grating sound.  “I don’t know why—­I’m restless to-day.”  Walking across the room, he stopped before the map upon the wall, and stood there a long while in silence.

“How would it do, Tom,” he asked at last, in a curiously remote and dreamy voice,—­“how would it do to find two or three great white-covered waggons, store them with all a childless family would need, put to them teams sound and strong, procure a horse or two besides, a slave or two, a faithful dog,—­then to take the long road—­west—­south—­somewhere—­anywhere—­past the mountains and away, away”—­His voice sank, then gathered strength and went on.  “Flood and forest, low hills and endless plains, stillness and a measure of peace!  Left behind the demon care, full before the eye the red, descending sun—­at night the camp-fire, at dawn the start, and in between mere sleep without a dream!  It is conceivable that, after much travel, in some hollow or by some spring, after long days and after sleep, one might stumble on new life.”  He struck the map with his hand.  “Tom, sometimes I think that I will remove from Virginia to the West.”

“You’d be a fool to do that now,” answered Tom succinctly.  “But you won’t do it.  I don’t know what has been the matter with you this winter, but I reckon you still love power.  Next year you’ll be named for Governor of Virginia.”

He fed the fire again, then, going to the window, looked down the street.  “The wind has fallen.”

“I am going,” said Rand’s voice behind him, “to ride down the Three-Notched Road.  Mrs. Selden sends me word that old Carfax is annoying her again.”

“Can’t I go for you?”

“No.  I do not mind the ride.  Get the papers ready for court to-morrow.”

Mocket helped him on with his heavy bottle-green riding-coat.  “Lewis,” spoke the scamp, with a queer note of affection and deprecation, “why don’t you see Dr. Gilmer?  You’re growing thin, and do you know, you’re haunted-looking!  Tell him you cannot sleep, and make him give you bark or something.  I couldn’t carry on business without you, you know.”