A storm of cheers arose for Douglas.  He was surrounded by a host of admirers.  And I saw him now in a new phase.  He was winning and gallant, of open heart, of genial manner.  When he saw me he smiled a warm recognition.  I went to where he stood to offer my congratulations.  I asked him to come out and see me, and have a meal with me.  He was already mingling with the young people of his own age at dances and in sports.  That had been his custom at Winchester.  He was glad to come, inquired the way.  He was very happy.  He knew that he had won his spurs this night.  And from thenceforth he was a notable figure.  Had anything just like this ever occurred in England?  I had never heard of it.  I should certainly write my grandmama of this event.

CHAPTER XIII

Russell Lamborn left the courthouse with Reverdy and me.  He lingered at the gate as if he wished an invitation to go into Reverdy’s house; but Reverdy did not invite him.  He would have asked Douglas to come in for the remainder of the evening, such as it was, except for Sarah’s condition.

Douglas had quite carried Reverdy away.  And yet there lurked in him something that was not intellectually convinced and morally satisfied.  I felt a little the same way.  I did not know how to describe my state of mind.  With Douglas’ vision of the country, his hopes for it, the part he wished to play, I felt my English blood stir.  But was there enough moral depth to him?  Did he reckon enough with the forces which made for culture, enlightenment?  Was he really high-minded?  Did he not have the gesture and the touch of the magician, the abandonment of the indifferent demigod—­indifferent to the higher and the deeper currents of man’s life?  I tried to formulate some of these nebulous ideas to Reverdy, but found myself running into denials, facts of contradiction in Douglas’ attitude and thinking.  Reverdy was equally unable to state the case against Douglas, which he felt a keener critic of thought would easily do.  Meanwhile young Lamborn stood with us while we fumbled these doubtful things.  He seemed reluctant to leave.  I wondered in a vague way what kept him from going.  What did he want?

And when Douglas did come to see me, which was within a few days of the night of the debate, Lamborn came with him.  It was in the afternoon and they were on their way to a country dance.  I could not help but observe that Lamborn had been drinking.  What a strange taste—­this whisky drinking!  We did it in England, to be sure.  But here it was done everywhere and at all hours and in all degrees of immoderation and vulgarity.  Lamborn, however, was not unduly under the influence of drink; he was rather laughing and genial and humorously familiar.  Douglas had doubtless taken as much as Lamborn, but he was quite equal to resisting its relaxing effects.

Douglas and I sat under a tree by the brook.  The buds were coming out.  There was the balmy warmth of spring in the air.  I had a chance now to revise my first impressions of him.  His charm could not be denied.  His frankness, the quickness of his thought, his intellectual power, his vitality, his capacity for work, the tirelessness of his energies, were manifested in his speech, his movements, the clear and rapid glances of his eyes.