the　names　of　friends　on　door…plates；　the　sight　of　friends
  whom　he　seemed　to　recognise；　and　whom　he　eagerly　avoided；　in
  the　streets；　the　pleasant　chant　of　the　north…country　accent；
  the　dome　of　St。　George's　reminding　him　of　his　last
  penitential　moments　in　the　lane；　and　of　that　King　of　Glory
  whose　name　had　echoed　ever　since　in　the　saddest　corner　of　his
  memory；　and　the　gutters　where　he　had　learned　to　slide；　and
  the　shop　where　he　had　bought　his　skates；　and　the　stones　on
  which　he　had　trod；　and　the　railings　in　which　he　had　rattled
  his　clachan　as　he　went　to　school；　and　all　those　thousand　and
  one　nameless　particulars；　which　the　eye　sees　without　noting；
  which　the　memory　keeps　indeed　yet　without　knowing；　and　which；
  taken　one　with　another；　build　up　for　us　the　aspect　of　the
  place　that　we　call　home：　all　these　besieged　him；　as　he　went；
  with　both　delight　and　sadness。
  His　first　visit　was　for　Houston；　who　had　a　house　on　Regent
  Terrace；　kept　for　him　in　old　days　by　an　aunt。　　The　door　was
  opened　（to　his　surprise）　upon　the　chain；　and　a　voice　asked
  him　from　within　what　he　wanted。
  'I　want　Mr。　Houston　…　Mr。　Alan　Houston；'　said　he。
  'And　who　are　ye？'　said　the　voice。
  'This　is　most　extraordinary；'　thought　John；　and　then　aloud　he
  told　his　name。
  'No'　young　Mr。　John？'　cried　the　voice；　with　a　sudden　increase
  of　Scotch　accent；　testifying　to　a　friendlier　feeling。
  'The　very　same；'　said　John。
  And　the　old　butler　removed　his　defences；　remarking　only　'I
  thocht　ye　were　that　man。'　　But　his　master　was　not　there；　he
  was　staying；　it　appeared；　at　the　house　in　Murrayfield；　and
  though　the　butler　would　have　been　glad　enough　to　have　taken
  his　place　and　given　all　the　news　of　the　family；　John；　struck
  with　a　little　chill；　was　eager　to　be　gone。　　Only；　the　door
  was　scarce　closed　again；　before　he　regretted　that　he　had　not
  asked　about　'that　man。'
  He　was　to　pay　no　more　visits　till　he　had　seen　his　father　and
  made　all　well　at　home；　Alan　had　been　the　only　possible
  exception；　and　John　had　not　time　to　go　as　far　as　Murrayfield。
  But　here　he　was　on　Regent　Terrace；　there　was　nothing　to
  prevent　him　going　round　the　end　of　the　hill；　and　looking　from
  without　on　the　Mackenzies'　house。　　As　he　went；　he　reflected
  that　Flora　must　now　be　a　woman　of　near　his　own　age；　and　it
  was　within　the　bounds　of　possibility　that　she　was　married；
  but　this　dishonourable　doubt　he　dammed　down。
  There　was　the　house；　sure　enough；　but　the　door　was　of　another
  colour；　and　what　was　this　…　two　door…plates？　　He　drew　nearer；
  the　top　one　bore；　with　dignified　simplicity；　the　words；　'Mr。
  Proudfoot'；　the　lower　one　was　more　explicit；　and　informed　the
  passer…by　that　here　was　likewise　the　abode　of　'Mr。　J。　A。
  Dunlop　Proudfoot；　Advocate。'　　The　Proudfoots　must　be　rich；
  for　no　advocate　could　look　to　have　much　business　in　so　remote
  a　quarter；　and　John　hated　them　for　their　wealth　and　for　their
  name；　and　for　the　sake　of　the　house　they　desecrated　with
  their　presence。　　He　remembered　a　Proudfoot　he　had　seen　at
  school；　not　known：　a　little；　whey…faced　urchin；　the
  despicable　member　of　some　lower　class。　　Could　it　be　this
  abortion　that　had　climbed　to　be　an　advocate；　and　now　lived　in
  the　birthplace　of　Flora　and　the　home　of　John's　tenderest
  memories？　　The　chill　that　had　first　seized　upon　him　when　he
  heard　of　Houston's　absence　deepened　and　struck　inward。　　For　a
  moment；　as　he　stood　under　the　doors　of　that　estranged　house；
  and　looked　east　and　west　along　the　solitary　pavement　of　the
  Royal　Terrace；　where　not　a　cat　was　stirring；　the　sense　of
  solitude　and　desolation　took　him　by　the　throat；　and　he　wished
  himself　in　San　Francisco。
  And　then　the　figure　he　made；　with　his　decent　portliness；　his
  whiskers；　the　money　in　his　purse；　the　excellent　cigar　that　he
  now　lighted；　recurred　to　his　mind　in　consolatory　comparison
  with　that　of　a　certain　maddened　lad　who；　on　a　certain　spring
  Sunday　ten　years　before；　and　in　the　hour　of　church…time
  silence；　had　stolen　from　that　city　by　the　Glasgow　road。　　In
  the　face　of　these　changes；　it　were　impious　to　doubt　fortune's
  kindness。　　All　would　be　well　yet；　the　Mackenzies　would　be
  found；　Flora；　younger　and　lovelier　and　kinder　than　before；
  Alan　would　be　found；　and　would　have　so　nicely　discriminated
  his　behaviour　as　to　have　grown；　on　the　one　hand；　into　a
  valued　friend　of　Mr。　Nicholson's；　and　to　have　remained；　upon
  the　other；　of　that　exact　shade　of　joviality　which　John
  desired　in　his　companions。　　And　so；　once　more；　John　fell　to
  work　discounting　the　delightful　future：　his　first　appearance
  in　the　family　pew；　his　first　visit　to　his　uncle　Greig；　who
  thought　himself　so　great　a　financier；　and　on　whose　purblind
  Edinburgh　eyes　John　was　to　let　in　the　dazzling　daylight　of
  the　West；　and　the　details　in　general　of　that　unrivalled
  transformation　scene；　in　which　he　was　to　display　to　all
  Edinburgh　a　portly　and　successful　gentleman　in　the　shoes　of
  the　derided　fugitive。
  The　time　began　to　draw　near　when　his　father　would　have
  returned　from　the　office；　and　it　would　be　the　prodigal's　cue
  to　enter。　　He　strolled　westward　by　Albany　Street；　facing　the
  sunset　embers；　pleased；　he　knew　not　why；　to　move　in　that　cold
  air　and　indigo　twilight；　starred　with　street…lamps。　　But
  there　was　one　more　disenchantment　waiting　him　by　the　way。
  At　the　corner　of　Pitt　Street　he　paused　to　light　a　fresh
  cigar；　the　vesta　threw；　as　he　did　so；　a　strong　light　upon　his
  features；　and　a　man　of　about　his　own　age　stopped　at　sight　of
  it。
  'I　think　your　name　must　be　Nicholson；'　said　the　stranger。
  It　was　too　late　to　avoid　recognition；　and　besides；　as　John
  was　now　actually　on　the　way　home；　it　hardly　mattered；　and　he
  gave　way　to　the　impulse　of　his　nature。
  'Great　Scott！'　he　cried；　'Beatson！'　and　shook　hands　with
  warmth。　　It　scarce　seemed　he　was　repaid　in　kind。
  'So　you're　home　again？'　said　Beatson。　　'Where　have　you　been
  all　this　long　time？'
  'In　the　States；'　said　John　…　'California。　　I've　made　my　pile
  though；　and　it　suddenly　struck　me　it　would　be　a　noble　scheme
  to　come　home　for　Christmas。'
  'I　see；'　said　Beatson。　　'Well；　I　hope　we'll　see　something　of
  you　now　you're　here。'
  'Oh；　I　guess　so；'　said　John；　a　little　frozen。
  'Well；　ta…ta；'　concluded　Beatson；　and　he　shook　hands　again
  and　went。
  This　was　a　cruel　first　experience。　　It　was　idle　to　blink
  facts：　here　was　John　home　again；　and　Beatson　…　Old　Beatson　…
  did　not　care　a　rush。　　He　recalled　Old　Beatson　in　the　past　…
  that　merry　and　affectionate　lad　…　and　their　joint　adventures
  and　mishaps；　the　window　they　had　broken　with　a　catapult　in
  India　Place；　the　escalade　of　the　castle　rock；　and　many
  another　inestimable　bond　of　friendship；　and　his　hurt　surprise
  grew　deeper。　　Well；　after　all；　it　was　only　on　a　man's　own
  family　that　he　could　count；　blood　was　thicker　than　water；　he
  remembered；　and　the　net　result　of　this　encounter　was　to　bring
  him　to　the　doorstep　of　his　father's　house；　with　tenderer　and
  softer　feelings。
  The　night　had　come；　the　fanlight　over　the　door　shone　bright；
  the　two　windows　of　the　dining…room　where　the　cloth　was　being
  laid；　and　the　three　windows　of　the　drawing…room　where　Maria
  would　be　waiting　dinner；　glowed　softlier　through　yellow
  blinds。　　It　was　like　a　vision　of　the　past。　　All　this　time　of
  his　absence　life　had　gone　forward　with　an　equal　foot；　and　the
  fires　and　the　gas　had　been　lighted；　and　the　meals　spread；　at
  the　accustomed　hours。　　At　the　accustomed　hour；　too；　the　bell
  had　sounded　thrice　to　call　the　family　to　worship。　　And　at　the
  thought；　a　pang　of　regret　for　his　demerit　seized　him；　he
  remembered　the　things　that　were　good　and　that　he　had
  neglected；　and　the　things　that　were　evil　and　that　he　had
  loved；　and　it　was　with　a　prayer　upon　his　lips　that　he　mounted
  the　steps　and　thrust　the　key　into　the　key…hole。
  He　stepped　into　the　lighted　hall；　shut　the　door　softly　behind
  him；　and　stood　there　fixed　in　wonder。　　No　surprise　of
  strangeness　could　equal　the　surprise　of　that　complete
  familiarity。　　There　was　the　bust　of　Chalmers　near　the　stair…
  railings；　there　was　the　clothes…brush　in　the　accustomed
  place；　and　there；　on　the　hat…stand；　hung　hats　and　coats　that
  must　surely　be　the　same　as　he　remembered。　　Ten　years　dropped
  from　his　life；　as　a　pin　may　slip　between　the　fingers；　and　the
  ocean　and　the　mountains；　and　the　mines；　and　crowded　marts　and
  mingled　races　of　San　Francisco；　and　his　own　fortune　and　his
  own　disgrace；　became；　for　that　one　moment；　the　figures　of　a
  dream　that　was　over。
  He　took　off　his　hat；　and　moved　mechanically　toward　the　stand；
  and　there　he　found　a　small　change　that　was　a　great　one　to
  him。　　The　pin　that　had　been　his　from　boyhood；　where　he　had
  flung　his　balmoral　when　he　loitered　home　from　the　Academy；
  and　his　first　hat　when　he　came　briskly　back　from　college　or
  the　office　…　his　pin　was　occupied。　　'They　might　have　at　least
  respected　my　pin！'　he　thought；　and　he　was　moved　as　by　a
  slight；　and　began　at　once　to　recollect　that　he