“You think it’s a great thing to be a lawyer, don’t you?” said he one night.

“I think it’s a great thing to be such a lawyer as Governor will be,” said Winnie.

At which Rufus laughed prodigiously.

“I think it’s a great thing to be such a governor as this lawyer will be,” he said when he had recovered himself.  “Nothing less, Governor!  You have your title beforehand.”

“‘Once a judge always a judge,’” said Winthrop.  “I am afraid if you reverse the terms, so you will the conclusion.”

“Terms!” said Rufus.  “You will be governor of this state, and I shall be your financial secretary —­ on any terms you please.  By the way —­ what keeps you from Haye’s now-a-days?  Not this girl?”

“No,” said Winthrop.

It was that same ‘no’ over again.  Winnie knew it, and her heart throbbed.

“What then?  I haven’t seen you there since I’ve been in town.”

“How often are you there yourself?”

“O! —­ every evening almost.  What keeps you?”

“Duty —­” said Winthrop.

“But what sort of duty!  What on earth can hinder your coming there as you used to do, to spend a rational hour now and then?”

“My dear sir, it is enough for any man to know his own duty; it is not always possible for him to know that of another man.”

“And therefore I ask you!” said Rufus.

“What?”

“Why! —­ what’s your reason for keeping away.”

“In brief —­ my engagements.”

“You’ve nothing to do with briefs yet,” said Rufus; “have the goodness to enlarge a little.  You’ve not been more busy lately than you were a while ago.”

“Yes I have.”

“Yes, I suppose you have,” —­ said Rufus meditatively.  “But not so much more as to make that a reason?”

“If my reasons were not only ‘as plenty’ but as precious, as blackberries,” said his brother, “you could not shew more eagerness for them.”

“I am afraid the blackberries would be the more savoury,” said Rufus laughing a little.  “But you didn’t use to make such a hermit of yourself, Winthrop.”

“I don’t intend to be a hermit always.  But as I told you, duty and inclination have combined to make me one lately.”

Winnie could not make much of this conversation.  The words might seem to mean something, but Winthrop’s manner had been so perfectly cool and at ease that she was at a loss to know whether they meant anything.

Winthrop’s first cause was not a very dignified one —­ it was something about a man’s horse.  Winnie did not think much of it; except that it was his first cause, and it was gained; but that she was sure beforehand it would be.  However, more dignified pieces of business did follow, and came fast; and at every new one Winnie’s eyes sparkled and glistened, and her nervous troubles for the moment laid themselves down beneath joy, and pride in her brother, and thankfulness for his success.  Before many months had passed away, something offered that in better measure answered her wishes for his opportunity.