Gwynne had heard the keys of his secret weakness tinkle for a full bar, but while it improved his humor it did not cloud his judgment, and he applied himself to finding out the purpose of the man's visit.
"I regret very much that I have come too late to know any of my male relatives," he said, affably. "Hiram Otis, from all I hear, was an able man, if somewhat soured, and his unfortunate brother one of the most brilliant lawyers of his day. Terrible thing, this reckless drinking in San Francisco. I was told yesterday that when—a few years ago—an editor was sent out from New York to assume charge of one of your most flourishing dailies, he made the entire staff go down to Los Gatos and take the Keeley cure. Then, for a time, he had relays of sober men, at least, but until then he had felt himself a lonely Philistine—besides taking a hand in every department of the 'shop,' even setting type at times. But it's a fascinating old town, all the same. Too fascinating, I fear." And he managed to fetch a remorseful sigh.
The judge, who had laughed heartily at the anecdote, dismissed his twinkle for a moment, and looked at the young man with concern.
"For God's sake," he said, softly, "don't tell me that you have inherited that microbe."
"Oh no, indeed!" said Gwynne, cheerfully. "I never could take to drink now—a man's character is pretty well formed at thirty-two, I fancy, and I scarcely ever touch spirits when alone—prefer the lighter wines. Only, as San Francisco is so convivial, one naturally imbibes a good deal, especially with friends addicted to the 'cocktail route'—and I am afraid I shall have to give up the city for the present and stick to work."
"The judge tells me that your legal powers are really amazing—that you have accumulated more law in four months—"
"Tut! Tut!" cried Gwynne, springing to his feet and reaching the table in a stride. "Have some more whiskey, judge. And don't flatter me any more. I am afraid that vanity is my besetting weakness—"
"Thank God it is not the other!" said the older man, fervently. "And vanity keeps the heart younger than anything I know of. Lose the power of being tickled by a compliment and inflated by success, and you lose the salt of life. But I am delighted that you have taken to the law. I know your English career like a book, and although I do not pretend even to guess at the motives which induced you to fling aside not only the most promising career in England, but one of the noblest of her titles, I may say, sir—and I may speak for my fellow-citizens, the whole million of them—I am deeply flattered, and gratified, that, whatever your motive, which could only be an honorable one, you have chosen this fair State as the theatre of your future triumphs. I hope I shall see you beside me on the bench—unless, to be sure, you have higher ambitions than the mere practice of law."
"The first men in the country have been lawyers," said Gwynne, politely. "Why aspire higher?"
"Why, indeed? But I think you will. The law frequently leads either to one of the benches or into the more active field of politics. And you—with your enormous energies—you will never be content with the law, pure and simple, no matter how brilliant a reputation you might achieve."