"And Willis passed the long hours of darkness in a nightmare of undefined dread, half asleep, but yet entirely conscious of all around; a state that confused imagination and reality, till the most frightful dreams became impressed with all the power of real events—so real that only the morning, with the unchanged, familiar face of the servant could make him feel certain that they were all waking dreams, and that he had not lived a horrible year. But the cold water, and the cheerful breakfast-table, and all the invigorating morning influences served to restore him; and he laughed at the absurd fancies, and went around to his father's hotel, wondering that he should have felt so discouraged and uncomfortable in his presence last evening, and mentally resolving to let no such chill come over their intercourse this morning.
"As he stepped into the hall, he noticed the well-known baggage, with the initials, 'J. C.,' and said to the waiter:
"'What carelessness is this? You have never carried up my father's baggage.'
"'As soon as you had gone last evening,' said the waiter, 'I went up to his door, sir, and asked if I should send it up then; but he said, "No," as he should leave early in the morning, sir.'
"Willis hurried up and found the old man at breakfast, or rather sitting there beside it, for he had evidently eaten nothing, although he said he had finished.
"'Why, father! your baggage—'
"'Yes, yes, a telegram. Must return immediately; and now sit down a moment. There is half an hour yet before going to the train. When do you finish your studies?'
"'In two months.'
"'So I thought—so I thought. There is no hurry about your beginning to practise, and I need your assistance in my business just at present. There are some speculations in the West that must be attended to. There is money in them, but I can't trust Stephens to go alone, and I want to send you with him. I shall make all arrangements for you to start at the end of two months.'