If Viola had turned her proud head a few moments later, she would have beheld an amazing spectacle: her supposedly smug and impeccable brother riding away at break-neck speed down the soggy lane, regardless of overhanging branches and flying mud, fleeing in wrath from the scene of his discontent. Dusk was falling when he rode slowly into the town again. He had reached a decision during that lonely ride. He would not remain in Lafayette. He foresaw misery and unhappiness for himself if he stayed there,--for, be it here declared, he was in love with Viola Gwyn. No, worse than that, he was in love with Minda Carter,--and therein lay all the bitterness that filled his soul. He could never have her. Even though she cast off the ardent Lapelle, still he could not have her for his own. The bars were up, and it was now beyond his power to lower them. And so, with this resolve firmly fixed in his mind, he gave himself up to a strange sort of despair. After supper at the tavern, he set out for a solitary stroll about the town before going to bed. He took stock of himself. No later than that morning he had come to a decision to open an office and engage in the practice of Law in Lafayette. He had made many friends during his brief stay in the place, and from all sides he had been encouraged to "hang out his shingle" and "grow up with the town." He liked the people, he had faith in the town, he possessed all the confidence and courage of youth. The local members of the bar, including the judge and justices, seriously urged him to establish himself there--there was room for him,--the town needed such men as he,--indeed, one of the leading lawyers had offered to take him into partnership, an opportunity not to be despised, in view of this man's state-wide reputation as a lawyer and orator, and who was already being spoken of for high honours in the councils of state and nation. All this was very gratifying to the young stranger. He was flattered by the unmistakable sincerity of these new friends. And he was in a position to weather the customary paucity of clients for an indefinite period, a condition resulting to but few young men starting out for themselves in the practice of law. He was comfortably well-off in the matter of worldly goods, not only through his recently acquired possessions, but as the result of a substantial legacy that had come to him on the death of his grandmother. He had received his mother's full share of the Blythe estate, a no inconsiderable fortune in lands and money.