They locked up the house, and left one of the men to guard it, while I went with Mr. Lowndes to his residence. I remember that people were gathered in the streets as we passed, making merry, and that they greeted Mr. Lowndes with respect and good cheer. His house, too, was set in a garden and quite as fine as Mr. Temple’s. It was ablaze with candles, and I caught glimpses of fine gentlemen and ladies in the rooms. But he hurried me through the hall, and into a little chamber at the rear where a writing-desk was set. He turned and faced me. “You must be tired, David,” he said. I nodded. “And hungry? Boys are always hungry.” “Yes, sir.” “You had no dinner?” “No, sir,” I answered, off my guard. “Mercy!” he said. “It is a long time since breakfast.” “I had no breakfast, sir.” “Good God!” he said, and pulled the velvet handle of a cord. A negro came. “Is the supper for the guests ready?” “Yes, Marsa.” “Then bring as much as you can carry here,” said the gentleman. “And ask Mrs. Lowndes if I may speak with her.” Mrs. Lowndes came first. And such a fine lady she was that she frightened me, this being my first experience with ladies. But when Mr. Lowndes told her my story, she ran to me impulsively and put her arms about me. “Poor lad!” she said. “What a shame!” I think that the tears came then, but it was small wonder. There were tears in her eyes, too. Such a supper as I had I shall never forget. And she sat beside me for long, neglecting her guests, and talking of my life. Suddenly she turned to her husband, calling him by name. “He is Alec Ritchie’s son,” she said, “and Alec has gone against Cameron.” Mr. Lowndes did not answer, but nodded. “And must he go to Temple Bow?” “My dear,” said Mr. Lowndes, “I fear it is our duty to send him there.” CHAPTER IV. TEMPLE BOW In the morning I started for Temple Bow on horseback behind one of Mr. Lowndes’ negroes. Good Mrs. Lowndes had kissed me at parting, and tucked into my pocket a parcel of sweetmeats. There had been a few grave gentlemen to see me, and to their questions I had replied what I could. But tell them of Mr. Temple I would not, save that he himself had told me nothing. And Mr. Lowndes had presently put an end to their talk. “The lad knows nothing, gentlemen,” he had said, which was true. “David,” said he, when he bade me farewell, “I see that your father has brought you up to fear God. Remember that all you see in this life is not to be imitated.”