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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sevenoaks, by J. G. Holland
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Sevenoaks
+
+Author: J. G. Holland
+
+Release Date: March 1, 2005  [eBook #15214]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVENOAKS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+SEVENOAKS
+
+A Story of Today
+
+by
+
+J.G. HOLLAND
+
+New York
+Grosset & Dunlap
+Publishers
+Published by Arrangement with Charles Scribner's Sons
+
+1875
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+  CHAPTER I.
+
+  Which tells about Sevenoaks, and how Miss Butterworth passed one of
+  her evenings
+
+  CHAPTER II.
+
+  Mr. Belcher carries his point at the town-meeting, and the poor are
+  knocked down to Thomas Buffum
+
+  CHAPTER III.
+
+  In which Jim Fenton is introduced to the reader and introduces himself to
+  Miss Butterworth
+
+  CHAPTER IV.
+
+  In which Jim Fenton applies for lodgings at Tom Buffum's boarding-house,
+  and finds his old friend
+
+  CHAPTER V.
+
+  In which Jim enlarges his accommodations and adopts a violent method
+  of securing boarders
+
+  CHAPTER VI.
+
+  In which Sevenoaks experiences a great commotion, and comes to the
+  conclusion that Benedict has met with foul play
+
+  CHAPTER VII.
+
+  In which Jim and Mike Conlin pass through a great trial and come out
+  victorious
+
+  CHAPTER VIII.
+
+  In which Mr. Belcher visits New York, and becomes the Proprietor of
+  "Palgrave's Folly."
+
+  CHAPTER IX.
+
+  Mrs. Talbot gives her little dinner party, and Mr. Belcher makes an
+  exceedingly pleasant acquaintance
+
+  CHAPTER X.
+
+  Which tells how a lawyer spent his vacation in camp, and took home a
+  specimen of game that he had never before found in the woods
+
+  CHAPTER XI.
+
+  Which records Mr. Belcher's connection with a great speculation and
+  brings to a close his residence in Sevenoaks
+
+  CHAPTER XII.
+
+  In which Jim enlarges his plans for a house, and completes his plans for
+  a house-keeper
+
+  CHAPTER XIII.
+
+  Which introduces several residents of Sevenoaks to the Metropolis and
+  a new character to the reader
+
+  CHAPTER XIV.
+
+  Which tells of a great public meeting in Sevenoaks, the burning in effigy
+  of Mr. Belcher, and that gentleman's interview with a reporter
+
+  CHAPTER XV.
+
+  Which tells about Mrs. Dillingham's Christmas and the New Year's
+  Reception at the Palgrave Mansion
+
+  CHAPTER XVI.
+
+  Which gives an account of a voluntary and an involuntary visit of Sam
+  Yates to Number Nine
+
+  CHAPTER XVII.
+
+  In which Jim constructs two happy-Davids, raises his hotel, and dismisses
+  Sam Yates
+
+  CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+  In which Mrs. Dillingham makes some important discoveries, but fails to
+  reveal them to the reader
+
+  CHAPTER XIX.
+
+  In which Mr. Belcher becomes President of the Crooked Valley Railroad,
+  with large "Terminal facilities," and makes an adventure into a
+  long-meditated crime
+
+  CHAPTER XX.
+
+  In which "the little woman" announces her engagement to Jim Fenton
+  and receives the congratulations of her friends
+
+  CHAPTER XXI.
+
+  In which Jim gets the furniture into his house, and Mike Conlin gets
+  another installment of advice into Jim
+
+  CHAPTER XXII.
+
+  In which Jim gets married, the new hotel receives its mistress, and
+  Benedict confers a power of attorney
+
+  CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+  In which Mr. Belcher expresses his determination to become a "founder,"
+  but drops his noun in fear of a little verb of the same name
+
+  CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+  Wherein the General leaps the bounds of law, finds himself in a new
+  world, and becomes the victim of his friends without knowing it
+
+  CHAPTER XXV.
+
+  In which the General goes through a great many trials, and meets at last
+  the one he has so long anticipated
+
+  CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+  In which the case of "Benedict _vs._ Belcher" finds itself in court, an
+  interesting question of identity is settled, and a mysterious
+  disappearance takes place
+
+  CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+  In which Phipps is not to be found, and the General is called upon to do
+  his own lying
+
+  CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+  In which a heavenly witness appears who cannot be cross-examined, and
+  before which the defense utterly breaks down
+
+  CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+  Wherein Mr. Belcher, having exhibited his dirty record, shows a clean
+  pair of heels
+
+  CHAPTER XXX.
+
+  Which gives the history of an anniversary, presents a tableau, and drops
+  the curtain
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+WHICH TELLS ABOUT SEVENOAKS, AND HOW MISS BUTTERWORTH PASSED ONE OF HER
+EVENINGS.
+
+
+Everybody has seen Sevenoaks, or a hundred towns so much like it, in
+most particulars, that a description of any one of them would present it
+to the imagination--a town strung upon a stream, like beads upon a
+thread, or charms upon a chain. Sevenoaks was richer in chain than
+charms, for its abundant water-power was only partially used. It
+plunged, and roared, and played, and sparkled, because it had not half
+enough to do. It leaped down three or four cataracts in passing through
+the village; and, as it started from living springs far northward among
+the woods and mountains, it never failed in its supplies.
+
+Few of the people of Sevenoaks--thoughtless workers, mainly--either knew
+or cared whence it came, or whither it went. They knew it as "The
+Branch;" but Sevenoaks was so far from the trunk, down to which it sent
+its sap, and from which it received no direct return, that no
+significance was attached to its name. But it roared all day, and roared
+all night, summer and winter alike, and the sound became a part of the
+atmosphere. Resonance was one of the qualities of the oxygen which the
+people breathed, so that if, at any midnight moment, the roar had been
+suddenly hushed, they would have waked with a start and a sense of
+suffocation, and leaped from their beds.
+
+Among the charms that dangled from this liquid chain--depending from the
+vest of a landscape which ended in a ruffle of woods toward the north,
+overtopped by the head of a mountain--was a huge factory that had been
+added to from time to time, as necessity demanded, until it had become
+an imposing and not uncomely pile. Below this were two or three
+dilapidated saw-mills, a grist-mill in daily use, and a fulling-mill--a
+remnant of the old times when homespun went its pilgrimage to town--to
+be fulled, colored, and dressed--from all the sparsely settled country
+around.
+
+On a little plateau by the side of The Branch was a row of stores and
+dram-shops and butchers' establishments. Each had a sort of square,
+false front, pierced by two staring windows and a door, that reminded
+one of a lion _couchant_--very large in the face and very thin in the
+flank. Then there were crowded in, near the mill, little rows of
+one-story houses, occupied entirely by operatives, and owned by the
+owner of the mill. All the inhabitants, not directly connected with the
+mill, were as far away from it as they could go. Their houses were set
+back upon either acclivity which rose from the gorge that the stream had
+worn, dotting the hill-sides in every direction. There was a clumsy
+town-hall, there were three or four churches, there was a high school
+and a low tavern. It was, on the whole, a village of importance, but the
+great mill was somehow its soul and center. A fair farming and grazing
+country stretched back from it eastward and westward, and Sevenoaks was
+its only home market.
+
+It is not proposed, in this history, to tell where Sevenoaks was, and is
+to-day. It may have been, or may be, in Maine, or New Hampshire, or
+Vermont, or New York. It was in the northern part of one of these
+States, and not far from the border of a wilderness, almost as deep and
+silent as any that can be found beyond the western limit of settlement
+and civilization. The red man had left it forever, but the bear, the
+deer and the moose remained. The streams and lakes were full of trout;
+otter and sable still attracted the trapper, and here and there a
+lumberman lingered alone in his cabin, enamored of the solitude and the
+wild pursuits to which a hardly gentler industry had introduced him.
+Such lumber as could be drifted down the streams had long been cut and
+driven out, and the woods were left to the hunter and his prey, and to
+the incursions of sportsmen and seekers for health, to whom the rude
+residents became guides, cooks, and servants of all work, for the sake
+of occasional society, and that ever-serviceable consideration--money.
+
+There were two establishments in Sevenoaks which stood so far away from
+the stream that they could hardly be described as attached to it.
+Northward, on the top of the bleakest hill in the region, stood the
+Sevenoaks poor-house. In dimensions and population, it was utterly out
+of proportion to the size of the town, for the people of Sevenoaks
+seemed to degenerate into paupers with wonderful facility. There was one
+man in the town who was known to be getting rich, while all the rest
+grew poor. Even the keepers of the dram-shops, though they seemed to do
+a thriving business, did not thrive. A great deal of work was done, but
+people were paid very little for it. If a man tried to leave the town
+for the purpose of improving his condition, there was always some
+mortgage on his property, or some impossibility of selling what he had
+for money, or his absolute dependence on each day's labor for each day's
+bread, that stood in the way. One by one--sick, disabled, discouraged,
+dead-beaten--they drifted into the poor-house, which, as the years went
+on, grew into a shabby, double pile of buildings, between which ran a
+county road.
+
+This establishment was a county as well as a town institution, and,
+theoretically, one group of its buildings was devoted to the reception
+of county paupers, while the other was assigned to the poor of
+Sevenoaks. Practically, the keeper of both mingled his boarders
+indiscriminately, to suit his personal convenience.
+
+The hill, as it climbed somewhat abruptly from the western bank of the
+stream--it did this in the grand leisure of the old geologic
+centuries--apparently got out of breath and sat down when its task was
+half done. Where it sat, it left a beautiful plateau of five or six
+acres, and from this it rose, and went on climbing, until it reached the
+summit of its effort, and descended the other side. On the brow of this
+plateau stood seven huge oaks which the chopper's axe, for some reason
+or another, had spared; and the locality, in all the early years of
+settlement, was known by the name of "The Seven Oaks." They formed a
+notable landmark, and, at last, the old designation having been worn by
+usage, the town was incorporated with the name of Sevenoaks, in a single
+word.
+
+On this plateau, the owner of the mill, Mr. Robert Belcher--himself an
+exceptional product of the village--had built his residence--a large,
+white, pretentious dwelling, surrounded and embellished by all the
+appointments of wealth. The house was a huge cube, ornamented at its
+corners and cornices with all possible flowers of a rude architecture,
+reminding one of an elephant, that, in a fit of incontinent playfulness,
+had indulged in antics characteristic of its clumsy bulk and brawn.
+Outside were ample stables, a green-house, a Chinese pagoda that was
+called "the summer-house," an exquisite garden and trees, among which
+latter were carefully cherished the seven ancient oaks that had given
+the town its name.
+
+Robert Belcher was not a gentleman. He supposed himself to be one, but
+he was mistaken. Gentlemen of wealth usually built a fine house; so Mr.
+Belcher built one. Gentlemen kept horses, a groom and a coachman; Mr.
+Belcher did the same. Gentlemen of wealth built green-houses for
+themselves and kept a gardener; Mr. Belcher could do no less. He had no
+gentlemanly tastes, to be sure, but he could buy or hire these for
+money; so he bought and hired them; and when Robert Belcher walked
+through his stables and jested with his men, or sauntered into his
+green-house and about his grounds, he rubbed his heavy hands together,
+and fancied that the costly things by which he had surrounded himself
+were the insignia of a gentleman.
+
+From his windows he could look down upon the village, all of which he
+either owned or controlled. He owned the great mill; he owned the
+water-privilege; he owned many of the dwellings, and held mortgages on
+many others; he owned the churches, for all purposes practical to
+himself; he owned the ministers--if not, then this was another mistake
+that he had made. So long as it was true that they could not live
+without him, he was content with his title. He patronized the church,
+and the church was too weak to decline his ostentatious courtesy. He
+humiliated every man who came into his presence, seeking a subscription
+for a religious or charitable purpose, but his subscription was always
+sought, and as regularly obtained. Humbly to seek his assistance for any
+high purpose was a concession to his power, and to grant the assistance
+sought was to establish an obligation. He was willing to pay for
+personal influence and personal glory, and he often paid right royally.
+
+Of course, Mr. Belcher's residence had a library; all gentlemen have
+libraries. Mr. Belcher's did not contain many books, but it contained a
+great deal of room for them. Here he spent his evenings, kept his papers
+in a huge safe built into the wall, smoked, looked down on the twinkling
+village and his huge mill, counted his gains and constructed his
+schemes. Of Mrs. Belcher and the little Belchers, he saw but little. He
+fed and dressed them well, as he did his horses. All gentlemen feed and
+dress their dependents well. He was proud of his family as he saw them
+riding in their carriage. They looked gay and comfortable, and were, as
+he thought, objects of envy among the humbler folk of the town, all of
+which reflected pleasantly upon himself.
+
+On a late April evening, of a late spring in 18--, he was sitting in
+his library, buried in a huge easy chair, thinking, smoking, scheming.
+The shutters were closed, the lamps were lighted, and a hickory fire was
+blazing upon the hearth. Around the rich man were spread the luxuries
+which his wealth had bought--the velvet carpet, the elegant chairs, the
+heavy library table, covered with costly appointments, pictures in broad
+gold frames, and one article of furniture that he had not been
+accustomed to see in a gentleman's library--an article that sprang out
+of his own personal wants. This was an elegant pier-glass, into whose
+depths he was accustomed to gaze in self-admiration. He was flashily
+dressed in a heavy coat, buff waistcoat, and drab trousers. A gold chain
+of fabulous weight hung around his neck and held his Jurgensen repeater.
+
+He rose and walked his room, and rubbed his hands, as was his habit;
+then paused before his mirror, admired his robust figure and large face,
+brushed his hair back from his big brow, and walked on again. Finally,
+he paused before his glass, and indulged in another habit peculiar to
+himself.
+
+"Robert Belcher," said he, addressing the image in the mirror, "you are
+a brick! Yes, sir, you are a brick! You, Robert Belcher, sir, are an
+almighty smart man. You've outwitted the whole of 'em. Look at me, sir!
+Dare you tell me, sir, that I am not master of the situation? Ah! you
+hesitate; it is well! They all come to me, every man of 'em It is 'Mr.
+Belcher, will you be so good?' and 'Mr. Belcher, I hope you are very
+well,' and 'Mr. Belcher, I want you to do better by me.' Ha! ha! ha! ha!
+My name is Norval. It isn't? Say that again and I'll throttle you! Yes,
+sir, I'll shake your rascally head off your shoulders! Down, down in the
+dust, and beg my pardon! It is well; go! Get you gone, sir, and remember
+not to beard the lion in his den!"
+
+Exactly what this performance meant, it would be difficult to say. Mr.
+Belcher, in his visits to the city, had frequented theaters and admired
+the villains of the plays he had seen represented. He had noticed
+figures upon the boards that reminded him of his own. His addresses to
+his mirror afforded him an opportunity to exercise his gifts of
+speech and action, and, at the same time, to give form to his
+self-gratulations. They amused him; they ministered to his preposterous
+vanity. He had no companions in the town, and the habit gave him a sense
+of society, and helped to pass away his evenings. At the close of his
+effort he sat down and lighted another cigar. Growing drowsy, he laid it
+down on a little stand at his side, and settled back in his chair for a
+nap. He had hardly shut his eyes when there came a rap upon his door.
+
+"Come in!"
+
+"Please, sir," said a scared-looking maid, opening the door just wide
+enough to make room for her face.
+
+"Well?" in a voice so sharp and harsh that the girl cringed.
+
+"Please, sir, Miss Butterworth is at the door, and would like to see
+you."
+
+Now, Miss Butterworth was the one person in all Sevenoaks who was not
+afraid of Robert Belcher. She had been at the public school with him
+when they were children; she had known every circumstance of his
+history; she was not dependent on him in any way, and she carried in her
+head an honest and fearless tongue. She was an itinerant tailoress, and
+having worked, first and last, in nearly every family in the town, she
+knew the circumstances of them all, and knew too well the connection of
+Robert Belcher with their troubles and reverses. In Mr. Belcher's
+present condition of self-complacency and somnolency, she was not a
+welcome visitor. Belligerent as he had been toward his own image in the
+mirror, he shrank from meeting Keziah Butterworth, for he knew
+instinctively that she had come with some burden of complaint.
+
+"Come in," said Mr. Belcher to his servant, "and shut the door behind
+you."
+
+The girl came in, shut the door, and waited, leaning against it.
+
+"Go," said her master in a low tone, "and tell Mrs. Belcher that I am
+busy, and that she must choke her off. I can't see her to-night. I can't
+see her."
+
+The girl retired, and soon afterward Mrs. Belcher came, and reported
+that she could do nothing with Miss Butterworth--that Miss Butterworth
+was determined to see him before she left the house.
+
+"Bring her in; I'll make short work with her."
+
+As soon as Mrs. Belcher retired, her husband hurried to the mirror,
+brushed his hair back fiercely, and then sat down to a pile of papers
+that he always kept conveniently upon his library table.
+
+"Come in," said Mr. Belcher, in his blandest tone, when Miss Butterworth
+was conducted to his room.
+
+"Ah! Keziah?" said Mr. Belcher, looking up with a smile, as if an
+unexpected old friend had come to him.
+
+"My name is Butterworth, and it's got a handle to it,' said that
+bumptious lady, quickly.
+
+"Well, but, Keziah, you know we used to--"
+
+"My name is Butterworth, I tell you, and it's got a handle to it."
+
+"Well, Miss Butterworth--happy to see you--hope you are well--take a
+chair."
+
+"Humph," exclaimed Miss Butterworth, dropping down upon the edge of a
+large chair, whose back felt no pressure from her own during the
+interview. The expression of Mr. Belcher's happiness in seeing her, and
+his kind suggestion concerning her health, had overspread Miss
+Butterworth's countenance with a derisive smile, and though she was
+evidently moved to tell him that he lied, she had reasons for
+restraining her tongue.
+
+They formed a curious study, as they sat there together, during the
+first embarrassing moments. The man had spent his life in schemes for
+absorbing the products of the labor of others. He was cunning, brutal,
+vain, showy, and essentially vulgar, from his head to his feet, in
+every fiber of body and soul. The woman had earned with her own busy
+hands every dollar of money she had ever possessed. She would not have
+wronged a dog for her own personal advantage. Her black eyes, lean and
+spirited face, her prematurely whitening locks, as they were exposed by
+the backward fall of her old-fashioned, quilted hood, presented a
+physiognomy at once piquant and prepossessing.
+
+Robert Belcher knew that the woman before him was fearless and
+incorruptible. He knew that she despised him--that bullying and
+brow-beating would have no influence with her, that his ready badinage
+would not avail, and that coaxing and soft words would be equally
+useless. In her presence, he was shorn of all his weapons; and he never
+felt so defenseless and ill at ease in his life.
+
+As Miss Butterworth did not seem inclined to begin conversation, Mr.
+Belcher hem'd and haw'd with affected nonchalance, and said:
+
+"Ah!--to--what am I indebted for this visit. Miss--ah--Butterworth?"
+
+"I'm thinking!" she replied sharply, looking into the fire, and pressing
+her lips together.
+
+There was nothing to be said to this, so Mr. Belcher looked doggedly at
+her, and waited.
+
+"I'm thinking of a man, and-he-was-a-man-every-inch-of-him, if there
+ever was one, and a gentleman too, if-I-know-what-a-gentleman-is, who
+came to this town ten years ago, from-nobody-knows-where; with a wife
+that was an angel, if-there-is-any-such-thing-as-an-angel."
+
+Here Miss Butterworth paused. She had laid her foundation, and proceeded
+at her leisure.
+
+"He knew more than any man in Sevenoaks, but he didn't know how to take
+care of himself," she went on. "He was the most ingenious creature God
+ever made, I do think, and his name was Paul Benedict."
+
+Mr. Belcher grew pale and fidgeted in his chair.
+
+"And his name was Paul Benedict. He invented something, and
+then he took it to Robert Belcher, and he put it into his
+mill, and-paid-him-just-as-little-for-it-as-he-could. And
+then he invented something more, and-that-went-into-the-mill;
+and then something more, and the patent was used by Mr.
+Belcher for a song, and the man grew poorer and poorer,
+while-Mr.-Belcher-grew-richer-and-richer-all-the-time. And
+then he invented a gun, and then his little wife died,
+and what with the expenses of doctors and funerals and
+such things, and the money it took to get his patent,
+which-I-begged-him-for-conscience'-sake-to-keep-out-of-Robert-Belcher's-hands,
+he almost starved with his little boy, and had to go to Robert
+Belcher for money."
+
+"And get it," said Mr. Belcher.
+
+"How much, now? A hundred little dollars for what was worth a hundred
+thousand, unless-everybody-lies. The whole went in a day, and then he
+went crazy."
+
+"Well, you know I sent him to the asylum," responded Mr. Belcher.
+
+"I know you did--yes, I know you did; and you tried to get him well
+enough to sign a paper, which the doctor never would let him sign, and
+which wouldn't have been worth a straw if he had signed it.
+The-idea-of-getting-a-crazy-man-to-sign-a-paper!"
+
+"Well, but I wanted some security for the money I had advanced," said
+Mr. Belcher.
+
+"No; you wanted legal possession of a property which would have made him
+rich; that's what it was, and you didn't get it, and you never will get
+it. He can't be cured, and he's been sent back, and is up at Tom
+Buffum's now, and I've seen him to-day."
+
+Miss Butterworth expected that this intelligence would stun Mr. Belcher,
+but it did not.
+
+The gratification of the man with the news was unmistakable. Paul
+Benedict had no relatives or friends that he knew of. All his dealings
+with him had been without witnesses. The only person living besides
+Robert Belcher, who knew exactly what had passed between his victim and
+himself, was hopelessly insane. The difference, to him, between
+obtaining possession of a valuable invention of a sane or an insane man,
+was the difference between paying money and paying none. In what way,
+and with what profit, Mr. Belcher was availing himself of Paul
+Benedict's last invention, no one in Sevenoaks knew; but all the town
+knew that he was getting rich, apparently much faster than he ever was
+before, and that, in a distant town, there was a manufactory of what was
+known as "The Belcher Rifle."
+
+Mr. Belcher concluded that he was still "master of the situation."
+Benedict's testimony could not be taken in a court of justice. The town
+itself was in his hands, so that it would institute no suit on
+Benedict's behalf, now that he had come upon it for support; for the Tom
+Buffum to whom Miss Butterworth had alluded was the keeper of the
+poor-house, and was one of his own creatures.
+
+Miss Butterworth had sufficient sagacity to comprehend the reasons for
+Mr. Belcher's change of look and manner, and saw that her evening's
+mission would prove fruitless; but her true woman's heart would not
+permit her to relinquish her project.
+
+"Is poor Benedict comfortable?" he inquired, in his old, off-hand way.
+
+"Comfortable--yes, in the way that pigs are."
+
+"Pigs are very comfortable, I believe, as a general thing," said Mr.
+Belcher.
+
+"Bob Belcher," said Miss Butterworth, the tears springing to her eyes in
+spite of herself, and forgetting all the proprieties she had determined
+to observe, "you are a brute. You know you are a brute. He is in a
+little cell, no larger than--than--a pig-pen. There isn't a bit of
+furniture in it. He sleeps on the straw, and in the straw, and under the
+straw, and his victuals are poked at him as if he were a beast. He is a
+poor, patient, emaciated wretch, and he sits on the floor all day, and
+weaves the most beautiful things out of the straw he sits on, and Tom
+Buffum's girls have got them in the house for ornaments. And he talks
+about his rifle, and explains it, and explains it, and explains it, when
+anybody will listen to him, and his clothes are all in rags, and that
+little boy of his that they have in the house, and treat no better than
+if he were a dog, knows he is there, and goes and looks at him, and
+calls to him, and cries about him whenever he dares. And you sit here,
+in your great house, with your carpets and chairs, that half smother
+you, and your looking-glasses and your fine clothes, and don't start to
+your feet when I tell you this. I tell you if God doesn't damn everybody
+who is responsible for this wickedness, then there is no such thing as a
+God."
+
+Miss Butterworth was angry, and had grown more and more angry with every
+word. She had brooded over the matter all the afternoon, and her pent-up
+indignation had overflowed beyond control. She felt that she had spoken
+truth which Robert Belcher ought to hear and to heed, yet she knew that
+she had lost her hold upon him. Mr. Belcher listened with the greatest
+coolness, while a half smile overspread his face.
+
+"Don't you think I'm a pretty good-natured man to sit here," said he,
+"and hear myself abused in this way, without getting angry?"
+
+"No, I think you are a bad-natured man. I think you are the
+hardest-hearted and worst man I ever saw. What in God's name has Paul
+Benedict done, that he should be treated in this way? There are a dozen
+there just like him, or worse. Is it a crime to lose one's reason? I
+wish you could spend one night in Paul Benedict's room."
+
+"Thank you. I prefer my present quarters."
+
+"Yes, you look around on your present quarters, as you call 'em, and
+think you'll always have 'em. You won't. Mark my words; you won't. Some
+time you'll overreach yourself, and cheat yourself out of 'em. See if
+you don't."
+
+"It takes a smart man to cheat himself, Miss Butterworth," responded
+Mr. Belcher, rubbing his hands.
+
+"There is just where you're mistaken. It takes a fool."
+
+Mr. Belcher laughed outright. Then, in a patronizing way, he said: "Miss
+Butterworth, I have given you considerable time, and perhaps you'll be
+kind enough to state your business. I'm a practical man, and I really
+don't see anything that particularly concerns me in all this talk. Of
+course, I'm sorry for Benedict and the rest of 'em, but Sevenoaks isn't
+a very rich town, and it cannot afford to board its paupers at the
+hotel, or to give them many luxuries."
+
+Miss Butterworth was calm again. She knew that she had done her cause no
+good, but was determined to finish her errand.
+
+"Mr. Belcher, I'm a woman."
+
+"I know it, Keziah."
+
+"And my name is Butterworth."
+
+"I know it."
+
+"You do? Well, then, here is what I came to say to you. The town-meeting
+comes to-morrow, and the town's poor are to be sold at auction, and to
+pass into Tom Buffum's hands again, unless you prevent it. I can't make
+a speech, and I can't vote. I never wanted to until now. You can do
+both, and if you don't reform this business, and set Tom Buffum at doing
+something else, and treat God's poor more like human beings, I shall get
+out of Sevenoaks before it sinks; for sink it will if there is any hole
+big enough to hold it."
+
+"Well, I'll think of it," said Mr. Belcher, deliberately.
+
+"Tell me you'll do it."
+
+"I'm not used to doing things in a hurry. Mr. Buffum is a friend of
+mine, and I've always regarded him as a very good man for the place. Of
+course, if there's anything wrong it ought to be righted, but I think
+you've exaggerated."
+
+"No, you don't mean to do anything. I see it. Good-night," and she had
+swept out of the door before he could say another word, or rise from his
+chair.
+
+She went down the hill into the village. The earth was stiffening with
+the frost that lingered late in that latitude, and there were patches of
+ice, across which she picked her way. There was a great moon overhead,
+but just then all beautiful things, and all things that tended to lift
+her thoughts upward, seemed a mockery. She reached the quiet home of
+Rev. Solomon Snow.
+
+"Who knows but he can be spurred up to do something?" she said to
+herself.
+
+There was only one way to ascertain--so she knocked at the door, and was
+received so kindly by Mr. Snow and Mrs. Snow and the three Misses Snow,
+that she sat down and unburdened herself--first, of course, as regarded
+Mr. Robert Belcher, and second, as concerned the Benedicts, father and
+son.
+
+The position of Mr. Belcher was one which inspired the minister with
+caution, but the atmosphere was freer in his house than in that of the
+proprietor. The vocal engine whose wheels had slipped upon the track
+with many a whirr, as she started her train in the great house on the
+hill, found a down grade, and went off easily. Mr. Snow sat in his
+arm-chair, his elbows resting on either support, the thumb and every
+finger of each hand touching its twin at the point, and forming a kind
+of gateway in front of his heart, which seemed to shut out or let in
+conviction at his will. Mrs. Snow and the girls, whose admiration of
+Miss Butterworth for having dared to invade Mr. Belcher's library was
+unbounded, dropped their work, and listened with eager attention. Mr.
+Snow opened the gate occasionally to let in a statement, but for the
+most part kept it closed. The judicial attitude, the imperturbable
+spectacles, the long, pale face and white cravat did not prevent Miss
+Butterworth from "freeing her mind;" and when she finished the task, a
+good deal had been made of the case of the insane paupers of Sevenoaks,
+and there was very little left of Mr. Robert Belcher and Mr. Thomas
+Buffum.
+
+At the close of her account of what she had seen at the poor-house, and
+what had passed between her and the great proprietor, Mr. Snow cast his
+eyes up to the ceiling, pursed his lips, and somewhere in the
+profundities of his nature, or in some celestial laboratory, unseen by
+any eyes but his own, prepared his judgments.
+
+"Cases of this kind," said he, at last, to his excited visitor, whose
+eyes glowed like coals as she looked into his impassive face, "are to be
+treated with great prudence. We are obliged to take things as they air.
+Personally (with a rising inflection and a benevolent smile), I should
+rejoice to see the insane poor clothed and in their right mind."
+
+"Let us clothe 'em, then, anyway," interjected Miss Butterworth,
+impatiently. "And, as for being in their right mind, that's more than
+can be said of those that have the care of 'em."
+
+"Personally--Miss Butterworth, excuse me--I should rejoice to see them
+clothed and in their right mind, but the age of miracles is past. We
+have to deal with the facts of to-day--with things as they air. It is
+possible, nay, for aught I know, it may be highly probable, that in
+other towns pauperism may fare better than it does with us. It is to be
+remembered that Sevenoaks is itself poor, and its poverty becomes one of
+the factors of the problem which you have propounded to us. The town of
+Buxton, our neighbor over here, pays taxes, let us say, of seven mills
+on the dollar; we pay seven mills on the dollar. Buxton is rich; we are
+poor. Buxton has few paupers; we have many. Consequently, Buxton may
+maintain its paupers in what may almost be regarded as a state of
+affluence. It may go as far as feather-beds and winter fires for the
+aged; nay, it may advance to some economical form of teeth-brushes, and
+still demand no more sacrifice from its people than is constantly
+demanded of us to maintain our poor in a humbler way. Then there are
+certain prudential considerations--certain, I might almost say, moral
+considerations--which are to be taken into account. It will never do, in
+a town like ours, to make pauperism attractive--to make our pauper
+establishments comfortable asylums for idleness. It must, in some way,
+be made to seem a hardship to go to the poor-house."
+
+"Well, Sevenoaks has taken care of that with a vengeance," burst out
+Miss Butterworth.
+
+"Excuse me, Miss Butterworth; let me repeat, that it must be made to
+seem a hardship to go to the poor-house. Let us say that we have
+accomplished this very desirable result. So far, so good. Give our
+system whatever credit may belong to it, and still let us frankly
+acknowledge that we have suffering left that ought to be alleviated. How
+much? In what way? Here we come into contact with another class of
+facts. Paupers have less of sickness and death among them than any-other
+class in the community. There are paupers in our establishment that have
+been there for twenty-five years--a fact which, if it proves anything,
+proves that a large proportion of the wants of our present civilization
+are not only artificial in their origin, but harmful in their
+gratifications. Our poor are compelled to go back nearer to nature--to
+old mother nature--and they certainly get a degree of compensation for
+it. It increases the expenses of the town, to be sure."
+
+"Suppose we inquire of them," struck in Miss Butterworth again, "and
+find out whether they would not rather be treated better and die
+earlier."
+
+"Paupers are hardly in a position to be consulted in that way,"
+responded Mr. Snow, "and the alternative is one which, considering their
+moral condition, they would have no right to entertain."
+
+Miss Butterworth had sat through this rather desultory disquisition with
+what patience she could command, breaking in upon it impulsively at
+various points, and seen that it was drifting nowhere--at least, that it
+was not drifting toward the object of her wishes. Then she took up the
+burden of talk, and carried it on in her very direct way.
+
+"All you say is well enough, I suppose," she began, "but I don't stop to
+reason about it, and I don't wish to. Here is a lot of human beings
+that are treated like brutes--sold every year to the lowest bidder, to
+be kept. They go hungry, and naked, and cold. They are in the hands of a
+man who has no more blood in his heart than there is in a turnip, and we
+pretend to be Christians, and go to church, and coddle ourselves with
+comforts, and pay no more attention to them than we should if their
+souls had gone where their money went. I tell you it's a sin and a
+shame, and I know it. I feel it. And there's a gentleman among 'em, and
+his little boy, and they must be taken out of that place, or treated
+better in it. I've made up my mind to that, and if the men of Sevenoaks
+don't straighten matters on that horrible old hill, then they're just no
+men at all."
+
+Mr. Snow smiled a calm, self-respectful smile, that said, as plainly as
+words could say: "Oh! I know women: they are amiably impulsive, but
+impracticable."
+
+"Have you ever been there?" inquired Miss Butterworth, sharply.
+
+"Yes, I've been there."
+
+"And conscience forbid!" broke in Mrs. Snow, "that he should go again,
+and bring home what he brought home that time. It took me the longest
+time to get them out of the house!"
+
+"Mrs. Snow! my dear! you forget that we have a stranger present."
+
+"Well, I don't forget those strangers, anyway!"
+
+The three Misses Snow tittered, and looked at one another, but were
+immediately solemnized by a glance from their father.
+
+Mrs. Snow, having found her tongue--a characteristically lively and
+emphatic one--went on to say:--
+
+"I think Miss Butterworth is right. It's a burning shame, and you ought
+to go to the meeting to-morrow, and put it down."
+
+"Easily said, my dear," responded Mr. Snow, "but you forget that Mr.
+Belcher is Buffum's friend, and that it is impossible to carry any
+measure against him in Sevenoaks. I grant that it ought not to be so. I
+wish it were otherwise; but we must take things as they air."
+
+"To take things as they air," was a cardinal aphorism in Mr. Snow's
+budget of wisdom. It was a good starting-point for any range of
+reasoning, and exceedingly useful to a man of limited intellect and
+little moral courage. The real truth of the case had dawned upon Miss
+Butterworth, and it had rankled in the breast of Mrs. Snow from the
+beginning of his pointless talk. He was afraid of offending Robert
+Belcher, for not only did his church need repairing, but his salary was
+in arrears, and the wolf that had chased so many up the long hill to
+what was popularly known as Tom Buffum's Boarding House he had heard
+many a night, while his family was sleeping, howling with menace in the
+distance.
+
+Mrs. Snow rebelled, in every part of her nature, against the power which
+had cowed her reverend companion. There is nothing that so goads a
+spirited woman to madness as the realization that any man controls her
+husband. He may be subservient to her--a cuckold even--but to be mated
+with a man whose soul is neither his own nor wholly hers, is to her the
+torment of torments.
+
+"I wish Robert Belcher was hanged," said Mrs. Snow, spitefully.
+
+"Amen! and my name is Butterworth," responded that lady, making sure
+that there should be no mistake as to the responsibility for the
+utterance.
+
+"Why, mother!" exclaimed the three hisses Snow, in wonder.
+
+"And drawn and quartered!" added Mrs. Snow, emphatically.
+
+"Amen, again!" responded Miss Butterworth.
+
+"Mrs. Snow! my dear! You forget that you are a Christian pastor's wife,
+and that there is a stranger present."
+
+"No, that is just what I don't forget," said Mrs. Snow. "I see a
+Christian pastor afraid of a man of the world, who cares no more about
+Christianity than he does about a pair of old shoes, and who patronizes
+it for the sake of shutting its mouth against him. It makes me angry,
+and makes me wish I were a man; and you ought to go to that meeting
+to-morrow, as a Christian pastor, and put down this shame and
+wickedness. You have influence, if you will use it. All the people want
+is a leader, and some one to tell them the truth."
+
+"Yes, father, I'm sure you have a _great_ deal of influence," said the
+elder Miss Snow.
+
+"A great _deal_ of influence," responded the next in years.
+
+"Yes, indeed," echoed the youngest.
+
+Mr. Snow established the bridge again, by bringing his fingers
+together,--whether to keep out the flattery that thus came like a subtle
+balm to his heart, or to keep in the self-complacency which had been
+engendered, was not apparent.
+
+He smiled, looking benevolently out upon the group, and said: "Oh, you
+women are so hasty, so hasty, so hasty! I had not said that I would not
+interfere. Indeed, I had pretty much made up my mind to do so. But I
+wanted you in advance to see things as they air. It may be that
+something can be done, and it certainly will be a great satisfaction to
+me if I can be the humble instrument for the accomplishment of a
+reform."
+
+"And you will go to the meeting? and you will speak?" said Miss
+Butterworth, eagerly.
+
+"Yes!" and Mr. Snow looked straight into Miss Butterworth's tearful
+eyes, and smiled.
+
+"The Lord add His blessing, and to His name be all the praise!
+Good-night!" said Miss Butterworth, rising and making for the door.
+
+"Dear," said Mrs. Snow, springing and catching her by the arm, "don't
+you think you ought to put on something more? It's very chilly
+to-night."
+
+"Not a rag. I'm hot. I believe I should roast if I had on a feather
+more."
+
+"Wouldn't you like Mr. Snow to go home with you? He can go just as well
+as not," insisted Mrs. Snow.
+
+"Certainly, just as well as not," repeated the elder Miss Snow, followed
+by the second with: "as well as not," and by the third with: "and be
+glad to do it."
+
+"No--no--no--no"--to each. "I can get along better without him, and I
+don't mean to give him a chance to take back what he has said."
+
+Miss Butterworth ran down the steps, the whole family standing in the
+open door, with Mr. Snow, in his glasses, behind his good-natured,
+cackling flock, thoroughly glad that his protective services were deemed
+of so small value by the brave little tailoress.
+
+Then Miss Butterworth could see the moon and the stars. Then she could
+see how beautiful the night was. Then she became conscious of the
+everlasting roar of the cataracts, and of the wreaths of mist that they
+sent up into the crisp evening air. To the fear of anything in
+Sevenoaks, in the day or in the night, she was a stranger; so, with a
+light heart, talking and humming to herself, she went by the silent
+mill, the noisy dram-shops, and, with her benevolent spirit full of hope
+and purpose, reached the house where, in a humble hired room she had
+garnered all her treasures, including the bed and the linen which she
+had prepared years before for an event that never took place.
+
+"The Lord add His blessing, and to His name be all the praise," she
+said, as she extinguished the candle, laughing in spite of herself, to
+think how she had blurted out the prayer and the ascription in the face
+of Solomon Snow.
+
+"Well, he's a broken reed--a broken reed--but I hope Mrs. Snow will tie
+something to him--or starch him--or--something--to make him stand
+straight for once," and then she went to sleep, and dreamed of fighting
+with Robert Belcher all night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MR. BELCHER CARRIES HIS POINT AT THE TOWN-MEETING, AND THE POOR ARE
+KNOCKED DOWN TO THOMAS BUFFUM.
+
+
+The abrupt departure of Miss Butterworth left Mr. Belcher piqued and
+surprised. Although he regarded himself as still "master of the
+situation"--to use his own pet phrase,--the visit of that spirited woman
+had in various ways humiliated him. To sit in his own library, with an
+intruding woman who not only was not afraid of him but despised him, to
+sit before her patiently and be called "Bob Belcher," and a brute, and
+not to have the privilege of kicking her out of doors, was the severest
+possible trial of his equanimity. She left him so suddenly that he had
+not had the opportunity to insult her, for he had fully intended to do
+this before she retired. He had determined, also, as a matter of course,
+that in regard to the public poor of Sevenoaks he would give all his
+influence toward maintaining the existing state of things. The idea of
+being influenced by a woman, particularly by a woman over whom he had no
+influence, to change his policy with regard to anything, public or
+private, was one against which all the brute within him rebelled.
+
+In this state of mind, angry with himself for having tolerated one who
+had so boldly and ruthlessly wounded his self-love, he had but one
+resort. He could not confess his humiliation to his wife; and there was
+no one in the world with whom he could hold conversation on the subject,
+except his old confidant who came into the mirror when wanted, and
+conveniently retired when the interview closed.
+
+Rising from his chair, and approaching his mirror, as if he had been
+whipped, he stood a full minute regarding his disgraced and speechless
+image. "Are you Robert Belcher, Esquire, of Sevenoaks?" he inquired, at
+length. "Are you the person who has been insulted by a woman? Look at
+me, sir! Turn not away! Have you any constitutional objections to
+telling me how you feel? Are you, sir, the proprietor of this house? Are
+you the owner of yonder mill? Are you the distinguished person who
+carries Sevenoaks in his pocket? How are the mighty fallen! And you,
+sir, who have been insulted by a tailoress, can stand here, and look me
+in the face, and still pretend to be a man! You are a scoundrel, sir--a
+low, mean-spirited scoundrel, sir. You are nicely dressed, but you are a
+puppy. Dare to tell me you are not, and I will grind you under my foot,
+as I would grind a worm. Don't give me a word--not a word! I am not in a
+mood to bear it!"
+
+Having vented his indignation and disgust, with the fiercest facial
+expression and the most menacing gesticulations, he became calm, and
+proceeded:
+
+"Benedict at the poor-house, hopelessly insane! Tell me now, and, mark
+you, no lies here! Who developed his inventions? Whose money was risked?
+What did it cost Benedict? Nothing. What did it cost Robert Belcher?
+More thousands than Benedict ever dreamed of. Have you done your duty,
+Robert Belcher? Ay, ay, sir! I believe you. Did you turn his head? No,
+sir. I believe you; it is well! I have spent money for him--first and
+last, a great deal of money for him; and any man or woman who disputes
+me is a liar--a base, malignant liar! Who is still master of the
+situation? Whose name is Norval? Whose are these Grampian Hills? Who
+intends to go to the town-meeting to-morrow, and have things fixed about
+as he wants them? Who will make Keziah Butterworth weep and howl with
+anguish? Let Robert Belcher alone! Alone! Far in azure depths of space
+(here Mr. Belcher extended both arms heavenward, and regarded his image
+admiringly), far--far away! Well, you're a pretty good-looking man,
+after all, and I'll let you off this time; but don't let me catch you
+playing baby to another woman! I think you'll be able to take care of
+yourself [nodding slowly.] By-by! Good-night!"
+
+Mr. Belcher retired from the glass with two or three profound bows, his
+face beaming with restored self-complacency, and, taking his chair, he
+resumed his cigar. At this moment, there arose in his memory a single
+sentence he had read in the warrant for the meeting of the morrow: "To
+see if the town will take any steps for the improvement of the condition
+of the poor, now supported at the public charge."
+
+When he read this article of the warrant, posted in the public places of
+the village, it had not impressed him particularly. Now, he saw Miss
+Butterworth's hand in it. Evidently, Mr. Belcher was not the only man
+who had been honored by a call from that philanthropic woman. As he
+thought the matter over, he regretted that, for the sake of giving form
+and force to his spite against her, he should be obliged to relinquish
+the popularity he might have won by favoring a reformative measure. He
+saw something in it, also, that might be made to add to Tom Buffum's
+profits, but even this consideration weighed nothing against his desire
+for personal revenge, to be exhibited in the form of triumphant personal
+power.
+
+He rose from his chair, walked his room, swinging his hands backward and
+forward, casting furtive glances into his mirror, and then rang his
+bell. He had arrived at a conclusion. He had fixed upon his scheme, and
+was ready for work.
+
+"Tell Phipps to come here," he said to the maid who responded to the
+summons.
+
+Phipps was his coachman, body-servant, table-waiter, pet, butt for his
+jests, tool, man of all occasions. He considered himself a part of Mr.
+Belcher's personal property. To be the object of his clumsy badinage,
+when visitors were present and his master was particularly amiable, was
+equivalent to an honorable public notice. He took Mr. Belcher's cast-off
+clothes, and had them reduced in their dimensions for his own wearing,
+and was thus always able to be nearly as well dressed and foppish as the
+man for whom they were originally made. He was as insolent to others as
+he was obsequious to his master--a flunky by nature and long education.
+
+Phipps appeared.
+
+"Well, Phipps, what are you here for?" inquired Mr. Belcher.
+
+"I was told you wanted me, sir," looking doubtfully with his cunning
+eyes into Mr. Belcher's face, as if questioning his mood.
+
+"How is your health? You look feeble. Overwhelmed by your tremendous
+duties? Been sitting up late along back? Eh? You rascal! Who's the happy
+woman?"
+
+Phipps laughed, and twiddled his fingers.
+
+"You're a precious fellow, and I've got to get rid of you. You are
+altogether too many for me. Where did you get that coat? It seems to me
+I've seen something like that before. Just tell me how you do it, man. I
+can't dress the way you do. Yes, Phipps, you're too many for me!"
+
+Phipps smiled, aware that he was expected to make no reply.
+
+"Phipps, do you expect to get up to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Oh, you do! Very well! See that you do."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And Phipps--"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Bring the grays and the light wagon to the door to-morrow morning at
+seven o'clock."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And Phipps, gather all the old clothes about the house that you can't
+use yourself, and tie 'em up in a bundle, and put 'em into the back of
+the wagon. Mum is the word, and if Mrs. Belcher asks you any questions,
+tell her I think of turning Sister of Charity."
+
+Phipps snickered.
+
+"And Phipps, make a basket of cold meat and goodies, and put in with the
+clothes."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And Phipps, remember:--seven o'clock, sharp, and no soldiering."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And Phipps, here is a cigar that cost twenty-five cents. Do it up in a
+paper, and lay it away. Keep it to remember me by."
+
+This joke was too good to be passed over lightly, and so Phipps giggled,
+took the cigar, put it caressingly to his nose, and then slipped it into
+his pocket.
+
+"Now make yourself scarce," said his master, and the man retired,
+entirely conscious that the person he served had some rascally scheme on
+foot, and heartily sympathetic with him in the project of its execution.
+
+Promptly at seven the next morning, the rakish pair of trotters stood
+before the door, with a basket and a large bundle in the back of the
+rakish little wagon. Almost at the same moment, the proprietor came out,
+buttoning his overcoat. Phipps leaped out, then followed his master into
+the wagon, who, taking the reins, drove off at a rattling pace up the
+long hill toward Tom Buffum's boarding-house. The road lay entirely
+outside of the village, so that the unusual drive was not observed.
+
+Arriving at the poor-house, Mr. Belcher gave the reins to his servant,
+and, with a sharp rap upon the door with the butt of his whip, summoned
+to the latch the red-faced and stuffy keeper. What passed between them,
+Phipps did not hear, although he tried very hard to do so. At the close
+of a half hour's buzzing conversation, Tom Buffum took the bundle from
+the wagon, and pitched it into his doorway. Then, with the basket on his
+arm, he and Mr. Belcher made their way across the street to the
+dormitories and cells occupied by the paupers of both sexes and all ages
+and conditions. Even the hard-hearted proprietor saw that which wounded
+his blunted sensibilities; but he looked on with a bland face, and
+witnessed the greedy consumption of the stale dainties of his own table.
+
+It was by accident that he was led out by a side passage, and there he
+caught glimpses of the cells to which Miss Butterworth had alluded, and
+inhaled an atmosphere which sickened him to paleness, and brought to his
+lips the exclamation: "For God's sake let's get out of this."
+
+"Ay! ay!" came tremblingly from behind the bars of a cell, "let's get
+out of this."
+
+Mr. Belcher pushed toward the light, but not so quickly that a pair of
+eyes, glaring from the straw, failed to recognize him.
+
+"Robert Belcher! Oh, for God's sake! Robert Belcher!"
+
+It was a call of wild distress--a whine, a howl, an objurgation, all
+combined. It was repeated as long as he could hear it. It sounded in his
+ears as he descended the hill. It came again and again to him as he was
+seated at his comfortable breakfast. It rang in the chambers of his
+consciousness for hours, and only a firm and despotic will expelled it
+at last. He knew the voice, and he never wished to hear it again.
+
+What he had seen that morning, and what he had done, where he had been,
+and why he had gone, were secrets to which his wife and children were
+not admitted. The relations between himself and his wife were not new in
+the world. He wished to retain her respect, so he never revealed to her
+his iniquities. She wished as far as possible to respect him, so she
+never made uncomfortable inquiries. He was bountiful to her. He had been
+bountiful to many others. She clothed and informed all his acts of
+beneficence with the motives which became them. If she was ever shocked
+by his vulgarity, he never knew it by any word of hers, in disapproval.
+If she had suspicions, she did not betray them. Her children were
+trained to respect their father, and among them she found the
+satisfactions of her life. He had long ceased to be her companion. As
+an associate, friend, lover, she had given him up, and, burying in her
+heart all her griefs and all her loneliness, had determined to make the
+best of her life, and to bring her children to believe that their father
+was a man of honor, of whom they had no reason to be ashamed. If she was
+proud, hers was an amiable pride, and to Mr. Belcher's credit let it be
+said that he respected her as much as he wished her to honor him.
+
+For an hour after breakfast, Mr. Belcher was occupied in his library,
+with his agent, in the transaction of his daily business. Then, just as
+the church bell rang its preliminary summons for the assembling of the
+town-meeting, Phipps came to the door again with the rakish grays and
+the rakish wagon, and Mr. Belcher drove down the steep hill into the
+village, exchanging pleasant words with the farmers whom he encountered
+on the way, and stopping at various shops, to speak with those upon whom
+he depended for voting through whatever public schemes he found it
+desirable to favor.
+
+The old town-hall was thronged for half-an-hour before the time
+designated in the warrant. Finally, the bell ceased to ring, at the
+exact moment when Mr. Belcher drove to the door and ascended the steps.
+There was a buzz all over the house when he entered, and he was
+surrounded at once.
+
+"Have it just as you want it," shaking his head ostentatiously and
+motioning them away, "don't mind anything about me. I'm a passenger," he
+said aloud, and with a laugh, as the meeting was called to order and the
+warrant read, and a nomination for moderator demanded.
+
+"Peter Vernol," shouted a dozen voices in unison.
+
+Peter Vernol had represented the district in the Legislature, and was
+supposed to be familiar with parliamentary usage. He was one of Mr.
+Belcher's men, of course--as truly owned and controlled by him as Phipps
+himself.
+
+Peter Vernol became moderator by acclamation. He was a young man, and,
+ascending the platform very red in the face, and looking out upon the
+assembled voters of Sevenoaks, he asked with a trembling voice:
+
+"What is the further pleasure of the meeting?"
+
+"I move you," said Mr. Belcher, rising, and throwing open his overcoat,
+"that the Rev. Solomon Snow, whom I am exceedingly glad to see present,
+open our deliberations with prayer."
+
+The moderator, forgetting apparently that the motion had not been put,
+thereupon invited the reverend gentleman to the platform, from which,
+when his service had been completed, he with dignity retired--but with
+the painful consciousness that in some way Mr. Belcher had become aware
+of the philanthropic task he had undertaken. He knew he was beaten, at
+the very threshold of his enterprise--that his conversations of the
+morning among his neighbors had been reported, and that Paul Benedict
+and his fellow-sufferers would be none the better for him.
+
+The business connected with the various articles of the warrant was
+transacted without notable discussion or difference. Mr. Belcher's
+ticket for town officers, which he took pains to show to those around
+him, was unanimously adopted. When it came to the question of schools,
+Mr. Belcher indulged in a few flights of oratory. He thought it
+impossible for a town like Sevenoaks to spend too much money for
+schools. He felt himself indebted to the public school for all that he
+was, and all that he had won. The glory of America, in his view--its
+pre-eminence above all the exhausted and decayed civilizations of the
+Old World--was to be found in popular education. It was the
+distinguishing feature of our new and abounding national life. Drop it,
+falter, recede, and the darkness that now hangs over England, and the
+thick darkness that envelops the degenerating hordes of the Continent,
+would settle down upon fair America, and blot her out forever from the
+list of the earth's teeming nations. He would pay good wages to
+teachers. He would improve school-houses, and he would do it as a matter
+of economy. It was, in his view, the only safeguard against the
+encroachments of a destructive pauperism. "We are soon," said Mr.
+Belcher, "to consider whether we will take any steps for the improvement
+of the condition of the poor, now supported at the public charge. Here
+is our first step. Let us endow our children with such a degree of
+intelligence that pauperism shall be impossible. In this thing I go hand
+in hand with the clergy. On many points I do not agree with them, but on
+this matter of popular education, I will do them the honor to say that
+they have uniformly been in advance of the rest of us. I join hands with
+them here to-day, and, as any advance in our rate of taxation for
+schools will bear more heavily upon me than upon any other citizen--I do
+not say it boastingly, gentlemen--I pledge myself to support and stand
+by it."
+
+Mr. Belcher's speech, delivered with majestic swellings of his broad
+chest, the ostentatious removal of his overcoat, and brilliant passages
+of oratorical action, but most imperfectly summarized in this report,
+was received with cheers. Mr. Snow himself feebly joined in the
+approval, although he knew it was intended to disarm him. His strength,
+his resolution, his courage, ebbed away with sickening rapidity; and he
+was not reassured by a glance toward the door, where he saw, sitting
+quite alone, Miss Butterworth herself, who had come in for the purpose
+partly of strengthening him, and partly of informing herself concerning
+the progress of a reform which had taken such strong hold upon her
+sympathies.
+
+At length the article in the warrant which most interested that good
+lady was taken up, and Mr. Snow rose to speak upon it. He spoke of the
+reports he had heard concerning the bad treatment that the paupers, and
+especially those who were hopelessly insane, had received in the
+alms-house, enlarged upon the duties of humanity and Christianity, and
+expressed the conviction that the enlightened people of Sevenoaks should
+spend more money for the comfort of the unfortunate whom Heaven had
+thrown upon their charge, and particularly that they should institute a
+more searching and competent inspection of their pauper establishment.
+
+As he took his seat, all eyes were turned upon Mr. Belcher, and that
+gentleman rose for a second exhibition of his characteristic eloquence.
+
+"I do not forget," said Mr. Belcher, "that we have present here to-day
+an old and well-tried public servant. I see before me Mr. Thomas Buffum,
+who, for years, has had in charge the poor, not only of this town, but
+of this county. I do not forget that his task has been one of great
+delicacy, with the problem constantly before him how to maintain in
+comfort our most unfortunate class of population, and at the same time
+to reduce to its minimum the burden of our taxpayers. That he has solved
+this problem and served the public well, I most firmly believe. He has
+been for many years my trusted personal friend, and I cannot sit here
+and hear his administration questioned, and his integrity and humanity
+doubted, without entering my protest. [Cheers, during which Mr. Buffum
+grew very red in the face.] He has had a task to perform before which
+the bravest of us would shrink. We, who sit in our peaceful homes, know
+little of the hardships to which this faithful public servant has been
+subjected. Pauperism is ungrateful. Pauperism is naturally filthy.
+Pauperism is noisy. It consists of humanity in its most repulsive forms,
+and if we have among us a man who can--who can--stand it, let us stand
+by him." [Tremendous cheers.]
+
+Mr. Belcher paused until the wave of applause had subsided, and then
+went on:
+
+"An open-hand, free competition: this has been my policy, in a business
+of whose prosperity you are the best judges. I say an open-hand and free
+competition in everything. How shall we dispose of our poor? Shall they
+be disposed of by private arrangement--sold out to favorites, of whose
+responsibility we know nothing? [Cries of no, no, no!] If anybody who is
+responsible--and now he is attacked, mark you, I propose to stand behind
+and be responsible for Mr. Buffum myself--can do the work cheaper and
+better than Mr. Buffum, let him enter at once upon the task. But let the
+competition be free, nothing covered up. Let us have clean hands in this
+business, if nowhere else. If we cannot have impartial dealing, where
+the interests of humanity are concerned, we are unworthy of the trust we
+have assumed. I give the Rev. Mr. Snow credit for motives that are
+unimpeachable--unimpeachable, sir. I do not think him capable of
+intentional wrong, and I wish to ask him, here and now, whether, within
+a recent period, he has visited the pauper establishment of Sevenoaks."
+
+Mr. Snow rose and acknowledged that it was a long time since he had
+entered Mr. Buffum's establishment.
+
+"I thought so. He has listened to the voice of rumor. Very well. I have
+to say that I have been there recently, and have walked through the
+establishment. I should do injustice to myself, and fail to hint to the
+reverend gentleman, and all those who sympathize with him, what I regard
+as one of their neglected duties, if I should omit to mention that I did
+not go empty-handed. [Loud cheers.] It is easy for those who neglect
+their own duties to suspect that others do the same. I know our paupers
+are not supported in luxury. We cannot afford to support them in luxury;
+but I wash my hands of all responsibility for inhumanity and inattention
+to their reasonable wants. The reverend gentleman himself knows, I
+think, whether any man ever came to me for assistance on behalf of any
+humane or religious object, and went away without aid, I cannot consent
+to be placed in a position that reflects upon my benevolence, and, least
+of all, by the reverend gentleman who has reflected upon that
+administration of public charity which has had, and still retains, my
+approval. I therefore move that the usual sum be appropriated for the
+support of the poor, and that at the close of this meeting the care of
+the poor for the ensuing year be disposed of at public auction to the
+lowest bidder."
+
+Mr. Snow was silent, for he knew that he was impotent.
+
+Then there jumped up a little man with tumbled hair, weazened face, and
+the general look of a broken-down gentleman, who was recognized by the
+moderator as "Dr. Radcliffe."
+
+"Mr. Moderator," said he, in a screaming voice, "as I am the medical
+attendant and inspector of our pauper establishment, it becomes proper
+for me, in seconding the motion of Mr. Belcher, as I heartily do, to say
+a few words, and submit my report for the past year."
+
+Dr. Radcliffe was armed with a large document, and the assembled voters
+of Sevenoaks were getting tired.
+
+"I move," said Mr. Belcher, "that, as the hour is late, the reading of
+the report be dispensed with." The motion was seconded, and carried
+_nem. con_.
+
+The Doctor was wounded in a sensitive spot, and was determined not to be
+put down.
+
+"I may at least say," he went on, "that I have made some discoveries
+during the past year that ought to be in the possession of the
+scientific world. It takes less food to support a pauper than it does
+any other man, and I believe the reason is that he hasn't any mind. If I
+take two potatoes, one goes to the elaboration of mental processes, the
+other to the support of the physical economy. The pauper has only a
+physical economy, and he needs but one potato. Anemia is the normal
+condition of the pauper. He breathes comfortably an atmosphere which
+would give a healthy man asphyxia. Hearty food produces inflammatory
+diseases and a general condition of hypertrophy. The character of the
+diseases at the poor-house, during the past year, has been typhoid. I
+have suggested to Mr. Buffum better ventilation, a change from
+farinaceous to nitrogenous food as conducive to a better condition of
+the mucous surfaces and a more perfect oxydation of the vital fluids.
+Mr. Buffum--"
+
+"Oh, git out!" shouted a voice at the rear.
+
+"Question! question!" called a dozen voices.
+
+The moderator caught a wink and a nod from Mr. Belcher, and put the
+question, amid the protests of Dr. Radcliffe; and it was triumphantly
+carried.
+
+And now, as the town-meeting drops out of this story, let us leave it,
+and leave Mr. Thomas Buffum at its close to underbid all contestants for
+the privilege of feeding the paupers of Sevenoaks for another year.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+IN WHICH JIM FENTON IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER AND INTRODUCES HIMSELF
+TO MISS BUTTERWORTH.
+
+
+Miss Butterworth, while painfully witnessing the defeat of her hopes
+from the last seat in the hall, was conscious of the presence at her
+side of a very singular-looking personage, who evidently did not belong
+in Sevenoaks. He was a woodsman, who had been attracted to the hall by
+his desire to witness the proceedings. His clothes, originally of strong
+material, were patched; he held in his hand a fur cap without a visor;
+and a rifle leaned on the bench at his side. She had been attracted to
+him by his thoroughly good-natured face, his noble, muscular figure, and
+certain exclamations that escaped from his lips during the speeches.
+Finally, he turned to her, and with a smile so broad and full that it
+brought an answer to her own face, he said: "This 'ere breathin' is
+worse nor an old swamp. I'm goin', and good-bye to ye!"
+
+Why this remark, personally addressed to her, did not offend her, coming
+as it did from a stranger, she did not know; but it certainly did not
+seem impudent. There was something so simple and strong and manly about
+him, as he had sat there by her side, contrasted with the baser and
+better dressed men before her, that she took his address as an honorable
+courtesy.
+
+When the woodsman went out upon the steps of the town-hall, to get a
+breath, he found there such an assembly of boys as usually gathers in
+villages on the smallest public occasion. Squarely before the door stood
+Mr. Belcher's grays, and in Mr. Belcher's wagon sat Mr. Belcher's man,
+Phipps. Phipps was making the most of his position. He was proud of his
+horses, proud of his clothes, proud of the whip he was carelessly
+snapping, proud of belonging to Mr. Belcher. The boys were laughing at
+his funny remarks, envying him his proud eminence, and discussing the
+merits of the horses and the various points of the attractive
+establishment.
+
+As the stranger appeared, he looked down upon the boys with a broad
+smile, which attracted them at once, and quite diverted them from their
+flattering attentions to Phipps--a fact quickly perceived by the latter,
+and as quickly revenged in a way peculiar to himself and the man from
+whom he had learned it.
+
+"This is the hippopotamus, gentlemen," said Phipps, "fresh from his
+native woods. He sleeps underneath the banyan-tree, and lives on the
+nuts of the hick-o-ree, and pursues his prey with his tail extended
+upward and one eye open, and has been known when excited by hunger to
+eat small boys, spitting out their boots with great violence. Keep out
+of his way, gentlemen! Keep out of his way, and observe his wickedness
+at a distance."
+
+Phipps's saucy speech was received with a great roar by the boys, who
+were surprised to notice that the animal himself was not only not
+disturbed, but very much amused by being shown up as a curiosity.
+
+"Well, you're a new sort of a monkey, anyway," said the woodsman, after
+the laugh had subsided. "I never hearn one talk afore."
+
+"You never will again," retorted Phipps, "if you give me any more of
+your lip."
+
+The woodsman walked quickly toward Phipps, as if he were about to pull
+him from his seat.
+
+Phipps saw the motion, started the horses, and was out of his way in an
+instant.
+
+The boys shouted in derision, but Phipps did not come back, and the
+stranger was the hero. They gathered around him, asking questions, all
+of which he good-naturedly answered. He seemed to be pleased with their
+society, as if he were only a big boy himself, and wanted to make the
+most of the limited time which his visit to the town afforded him.
+
+While he was thus standing as the center of an inquisitive and admiring
+group, Miss Butterworth came out of the town-hall. Her eyes were full of
+tears, and her eloquent face expressed vexation and distress. The
+stranger saw the look and the tears, and, leaving the boys, he
+approached her without the slightest awkwardness, and said:
+
+"Has anybody teched ye, mum?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir," Miss Butterworth answered.
+
+"Has anybody spoke ha'sh to ye?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir;" and Miss Butterworth pressed on, conscious that in that
+kind inquiry there breathed as genuine respect and sympathy as ever had
+reached her ears in the voice of a man.
+
+"Because," said the man, still walking along at her side, "I'm spilin'
+to do somethin' for somebody, and I wouldn't mind thrashin' anybody
+you'd p'int out."
+
+"No, you can do nothing for me. Nobody can do anything in this town for
+anybody until Robert Belcher is dead," said Miss Butterworth.
+
+"Well, I shouldn't like to kill 'im," responded the man, "unless it was
+an accident in the woods--a great ways off--for a turkey or a
+hedgehog--and the gun half-cocked."
+
+The little tailoress smiled through her tears, though she felt very
+uneasy at being observed in company and conversation with the
+rough-looking stranger. He evidently divined the thoughts which
+possessed her, and said, as if only the mention of his name would make
+him an acquaintance:
+
+"I'm Jim Fenton. I trap for a livin' up in Number Nine, and have jest
+brung in my skins."
+
+"My name is Butterworth," she responded mechanically.
+
+"I know'd it," he replied. "I axed the boys."
+
+"Good-bye," he said. "Here's the store, and I must shoulder my sack and
+be off. I don't see women much, but I'm fond of 'em, and they're pretty
+apt to like me."
+
+"Good-bye," said the woman. "I think you're the best man I've seen
+to-day;" and then, as if she had said more than became a modest woman,
+she added, "and that isn't saying very much."
+
+They parted, and Jim Fenton stood perfectly still in the street and
+looked at her, until she disappeared around a corner. "That's what I
+call a genuine creetur'," he muttered to himself at last, "a genuine
+creetur'."
+
+Then Jim Fenton went into the store, where he had sold his skins and
+bought his supplies, and, after exchanging a few jokes with those who
+had observed his interview with Miss Butterworth, he shouldered his sack
+as he called it, and started for Number Nine. The sack was a contrivance
+of his own, with two pouches which depended, one before and one behind,
+from his broad shoulders. Taking his rifle in his hand, he bade the
+group that had gathered around him a hearty good-bye, and started on his
+way.
+
+The afternoon was not a pleasant one. The air was raw, and, as the sun
+went toward its setting, the wind came on to blow from the north-west.
+This was just as he would have it. It gave him breath, and stimulated
+the vitality that was necessary to him in the performance of his long
+task. A tramp of forty miles was not play, even to him, and this long
+distance was to be accomplished before he could reach the boat that
+would bear him and his burden into the woods.
+
+He crossed the Branch at its principal bridge, and took the same path up
+the hill that Robert Belcher had traveled in the morning. About half-way
+up the hill, as he was going on with the stride of a giant, he saw a
+little boy at the side of the road, who had evidently been weeping. He
+was thinly and very shabbily clad, and was shivering with cold. The
+great, healthy heart within Jim Fenton was touched in an instant.
+
+"Well, bub," said he, tenderly, "how fare ye? How fare ye? Eh?"
+
+"I'm pretty well, I thank you, sir," replied the lad.
+
+"I guess not. You're as blue as a whetstone. You haven't got as much on
+you as a picked goose."
+
+"I can't help it, sir," and the boy burst into tears.
+
+"Well, well, I didn't mean to trouble you, boy. Here, take this money,
+and buy somethin' to make you happy. Don't tell your dad you've got it.
+It's yourn."
+
+The boy made a gesture of rejection, and said: "I don't wish to take it,
+sir."
+
+"Now, that's good! Don't wish to take it! Why, what's your name? You're
+a new sort o' boy."
+
+"My name is Harry Benedict."
+
+"Harry Benedict? And what's your pa's name?"
+
+"His name is Paul Benedict."
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"He is in the poor-house."
+
+"And you, too?"
+
+"Yes, sir," and the lad found expression for his distress in another
+flow of tears.
+
+"Well, well, well, well! If that ain't the strangest thing I ever hearn
+on! Paul Benedict, of Sevenoaks, in Tom Buffum's Boardin'-house!"
+
+"Yes, sir, and he's very crazy, too."
+
+Jim Fenton set his rifle against a rock at the roadside, slowly lifted
+off his pack and placed it near the rifle, and then sat down on a stone
+and called the boy to him, folding him in his great warm arms to his
+warm breast.
+
+"Harry, my boy," said Jim, "your pa and me was old friends. We have
+hunted together, fished together, eat together, and slept together
+many's the day and night. He was the best shot that ever come into the
+woods. I've seed him hit a deer at fifty rod many's the time, and he
+used to bring up the nicest tackle for fishin', every bit of it made
+with his own hands. He was the curisist creetur' I ever seed in my life,
+and the best; and I'd do more fur 'im nor fur any livin' live man. Oh, I
+tell ye, we used to have high old times. It was wuth livin' a year in
+the woods jest to have 'im with me for a fortnight. I never charged 'im
+a red cent fur nothin', and I've got some of his old tackle now that he
+give me. Him an' me was like brothers, and he used to talk about
+religion, and tell me I ought to shift over, but I never could see
+'zactly what I ought to shift over from, or shift over to; but I let 'im
+talk, 'cause he liked to. He used to go out behind the trees nights, and
+I hearn him sayin' somethin'--somethin' very low, as I am talkin' to ye
+now. Well, he was prayin'; that's the fact about it, I s'pose; and ye
+know I felt jest as safe when that man was round! I don't believe I
+could a' been drownded when he was in the woods any more'n if I'd a'
+been a mink. An' Paul Benedict is in the poor-house! I vow I don't
+'zactly see why the Lord let that man go up the spout; but perhaps it'll
+all come out right. Where's your ma, boy?"
+
+Harry gave a great, shuddering gasp, and, answering him that she was
+dead, gave himself up to another fit of crying.
+
+"Oh, now don't! now don't!" said Jim tenderly, pressing the distressed
+lad still closer to his heart. "Don't ye do it; it don't do no good. It
+jest takes the spunk all out o' ye. Ma's have to die like other folks,
+or go to the poor-house. You wouldn't like to have yer ma in the
+poor-house. She's all right. God Almighty's bound to take care o' her.
+Now, ye jest stop that sort o' thing. She's better off with him nor she
+would be with Tom Buffum--any amount better off. Doesn't Tom Buffum
+treat your pa well?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir; he doesn't give him enough to eat, and he doesn't let him
+have things in his room, because he says he'll hurt himself, or break
+them all to pieces, and he doesn't give him good clothes, nor anything
+to cover himself up with when it's cold."
+
+"Well, boy," said Jim, his great frame shaking with indignation, "do ye
+want to know what I think of Tom Buffum?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"It won't do fur me to tell ye, 'cause I'm rough, but if there's
+anything awful bad--oh, bad as anything can be, in Skeezacks--I should
+say that Tom Buffum was an old Skeezacks."
+
+Jim Fenton was feeling his way.
+
+"I should say he was an infernal old Skeezacks. That isn't very bad, is
+it?"
+
+"I don't know sir," replied the boy.
+
+"Well, a d----d rascal; how's that?"
+
+"My father never used such words," replied the boy.
+
+"That's right, and I take it back. I oughtn't to have said it, but
+unless a feller has got some sort o' religion he has a mighty hard time
+namin' people in this world. What's that?"
+
+Jim started with the sound in his ear of what seemed to be a cry of
+distress.
+
+"That's one of the crazy people. They do it all the time.'"
+
+Then Jim thought of the speeches he had heard in the town-meeting, and
+recalled the distress of Miss Butterworth, and the significance of all
+the scenes he had so recently witnessed.
+
+"Look 'ere, boy; can ye keep right 'ere," tapping him on his breast,
+"whatsomever I tell ye? Can you keep yer tongue still?--hope you'll die
+if ye don't?"
+
+There was something in these questions through which the intuitions of
+the lad saw help, both for his father and himself. Hope strung his
+little muscles in an instant, his attitude became alert, and he replied:
+
+"I'll never say anything if they kill me."
+
+"Well, I'll tell ye what I'm goin' to do. I'm goin' to stay to the
+poor-house to-night, if they'll keep me, an' I guess they will; and I'm
+goin' to see yer pa too, and somehow you and he must be got out of this
+place."
+
+The boy threw his arms around Jim's neck, and kissed him passionately,
+again and again, without the power, apparently, to give any other
+expression to his emotions.
+
+"Oh, God! don't, boy! That's a sort o' thing I can't stand. I ain't used
+to it."
+
+Jim paused, as if to realize how sweet it was to hold the trusting
+child in his arms, and to be thus caressed, and then said: "Ye must be
+mighty keerful, and do just as I bid ye. If I stay to the poor-house
+to-night, I shall want to see ye in the mornin', and I shall want to see
+ye alone. Now ye know there's a big stump by the side of the road,
+half-way up to the old school-house."
+
+Harry gave his assent.
+
+"Well, I want ye to be thar, ahead o' me, and then I'll tell ye jest
+what I'm a goin' to do, and jest what I want to have ye do."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Now mind, ye mustn't know me when I'm about the house, and mustn't tell
+anybody you've seed me, and I mustn't know you. Now ye leave all the
+rest to Jim Fenton, yer pa's old friend. Don't ye begin to feel a little
+better now?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You can kiss me again, if ye want to. I didn't mean to choke ye off.
+That was all in fun, ye know."
+
+Harry kissed him, and then Jim said: "Now make tracks for yer old
+boardin'-house. I'll be along bimeby."
+
+The boy started upon a brisk run, and Jim still sat upon the stone
+watching him until he disappeared somewhere among the angles of the
+tumble-down buildings that constituted the establishment.
+
+"Well, Jim Fenton," he said to himself, "ye've been spilin' fur
+somethin' to do fur somebody. I guess ye've got it, and not a very small
+job neither."
+
+Then he shouldered his pack, took up his rifle, looked up at the cloudy
+and blustering sky, and pushed up the hill, still talking to himself,
+and saying: "A little boy of about his haighth and bigness ain't a bad
+thing to take."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+IN WHICH JIM FENTON APPLIES FOR LODGINGS AT TOM BUFFUM'S BOARDING-HOUSE,
+AND FINDS HIS OLD FRIEND.
+
+
+As Jim walked up to the door of the building occupied by Tom Buffum's
+family, he met the head of the family coming out; and as, hitherto, that
+personage has escaped description, it will be well for the reader to
+make his acquaintance. The first suggestion conveyed by his rotund
+figure was, that however scantily he furnished his boarders, he never
+stinted himself in the matter of food. He had the sluggish, clumsy look
+of a heavy eater. His face was large, his almost colorless eyes were
+small, and, if one might judge by the general expression of his
+features, his favorite viand was pork. Indeed, if the swine into which
+the devils once entered had left any descendants, it would be legitimate
+to suppose that the breed still thrived in the most respectable sty
+connected with his establishment. He was always hoarse, and spoke either
+in a whisper or a wheeze. For this, or for some other reason not
+apparent, he was a silent man, rarely speaking except when addressed by
+a question, and never making conversation with anybody. From the time he
+first started independently in the world, he had been in some public
+office. Men with dirty work to do had found him wonderfully serviceable,
+and, by ways which it would be hard to define to the ordinary mind, he
+had so managed that every town and county office, in which there was any
+money, had been by turns in his hands.
+
+"Well, Mr. Buffum, how fare ye?" said Jim, walking heartily up to him,
+and shaking his hand, his face glowing with good-nature.
+
+Mr. Buffum's attempt to respond to this address ended in a wheeze and a
+cough.
+
+"Have ye got room for another boarder to-night? Faith, I never expected
+to come to the poor-house, but here I am. I'll take entertainment for
+man or beast. Which is the best, and which do you charge the most for?
+Somebody's got to keep me to-night, and ye're the man to bid low."
+
+Buffum made no reply, but stooped down, took a sliver from a log, and
+began to pick his teeth. Jim watched him with quiet amusement. The more
+Mr. Buffum thought, the more furious he grew with his toothpick.
+
+"Pretty tough old beef, wasn't it?" said Jim, with a hearty laugh.
+
+"You go in and see the women," said Mr. Buffum, in a wheezy whisper.
+
+This, to Jim, was equivalent to an honorable reception. He had no doubt
+of his ability to make his way with "the women" who, he was fully aware,
+had been watching him all the time from the window.
+
+To the women of Tom Buffum's household, a visitor was a godsend.
+Socially, they had lived all their lives in a state of starvation. They
+knew all about Jim Fenton, and had exchanged many a saucy word with him,
+as he had passed their house on his journeys to and from Sevenoaks.
+
+"If you can take up with what we've got," said Mrs. Buffum suggestively.
+
+"In course," responded Jim, "an' I can take up with what ye haven't
+got."
+
+"Our accommodations is very crowded," said Mrs. Buffum.
+
+"So is mine to home," responded Jim. "I allers sleep hangin' on a
+gambrel, between two slabs."
+
+While Mr. Tom Buffum's "women" were laughing, Jim lifted off his pack,
+placed his rifle in the corner of the room, and sat down in front of the
+fire, running on with his easygoing tongue through preposterous
+stories, and sundry flattering allusions to the beauty and
+attractiveness of the women to whose hospitalities he had committed
+himself.
+
+After supper, to which he did full justice, the family drew around the
+evening fire, and while Mr. Buffum went, or seemed to go, to sleep, in
+his chair, his guest did his best to entertain the minor members of the
+group.
+
+"This hollerin' ye have here reminds me," said Jim, "of Number Nine.
+Ther's some pretty tall hollerin' thar nights. Do ye see how my ha'r
+sticks up? I can't keep it down. It riz one night jest about where you
+see it now, and it's mostly been thar ever sence. Combin' don't do no
+good Taller don't do no good. Nothin' don't do no good. I s'pose if Mr.
+Buffum, a-snorin' jest as hard as he does now, should set on it for a
+fortnight, it would spring right up like a staddle, with a b'ar ketched
+at the eend of it, jest as quick as he let up on me." At this there was
+a slight rumble in Mr. Buffum's throat.
+
+"Why, what made it rise so?" inquired the most interested and eldest
+Miss Buffum.
+
+"Now, ain't your purty eyes wide open?" said Jim.
+
+"You're jest fooling; you know you are," responded Miss Buffum,
+blushing.
+
+"Do ye see the ha'r on the back of my hand?" said Jim, patting one of
+those ample instruments with the other. "That stands up jest as it does
+on my head. I'm a regular hedgehog. It all happened then."
+
+"Now, Jim Fenton, you shall go along and tell your story, and not keep
+us on tenter-hooks all night," said Miss Buffum sharply.
+
+"I don't want to scare the dear little heart out o' ye," said Jim, with
+a killing look of his eyes, "but if ye will hear it, I s'pose I must
+tell ye. Ye see I'm alone purty much all the time up thar. I don't have
+no such times as I'm havin' here to-night, with purty gals 'round me.
+Well, one night I hearn a loon, or thought I hearn one. It sounded 'way
+off on the lake, and bimeby it come nigher, and then I thought it was a
+painter, but it didn't sound 'zactly like a painter. My dog Turk he
+don't mind such things, but he knowed it wa'r'n't a loon and wa'r'n't a
+painter. So he got up and went to the door, and then the yell come agin,
+and he set up the most un'arthly howl I ever hearn. I flung one o' my
+boots at 'im, but he didn't mind any thing more about it than if it had
+been a feather. Well, ye see, I couldn't sleep, and the skeeters was
+purty busy, and I thought I'd git up. So I went to my cabin door and
+flung it open. The moon was shinin', and the woods was still, but Turk,
+he rushed out, and growled and barked like mad. Bimeby he got tired, and
+come back lookin' kind o' skeered, and says I: 'Ye're a purty dog, ain't
+ye?' Jest then I hearn the thing nigher, and I begun to hear the brush
+crack. I knowed I'd got to meet some new sort of a creetur, and I jest
+stepped back and took my rifle. When I stood in the door agin, I seen
+somethin' comin'. It was a walkin' on two legs like a man, and it was a
+man, or somethin' that looked like one. He come toward the cabin, and
+stopped about three rod off. He had long white hair that looked jest
+like silk under the moon, and his robes was white, and he had somethin'
+in his hand that shined like silver. I jest drew up my rifle, and says
+I: 'Whosomever you be, stop, or I'll plug ye.' What do ye s'pose he did?
+He jest took that shinin' thing and swung it round and round his head,
+and I begun to feel the ha'r start, and up it come all over me. Then he
+put suthin' to his mouth, and then I knowed it was a trumpet, and he
+jest blowed till all the woods rung, and rung, and rung agin, and I
+hearn it comin' back from the mountain, louder nor it was itself. And
+then says I to myself: 'There's another one, and Jim Fenton's a goner;'
+but I didn't let on that I was skeered, and says I to him: 'That's a
+good deal of a toot; who be ye callin' to dinner?' And says he: 'It's
+the last day! Come to jedgment! I'm the Angel Gabr'el!' 'Well,' says I,
+'if ye're the Angel Gabr'el, cold lead won't hurt ye, so mind yer eyes!'
+At that I drew a bead on 'im, and if ye'll b'lieve it, I knocked a tin
+horn out of his hands and picked it up the next mornin', and he went off
+into the woods like a streak o' lightnin'. But my ha'r hain't never come
+down."
+
+Jim stroked the refractory locks toward his forehead with his huge hand,
+and they rose behind it like a wheat-field behind a summer wind. As he
+finished the manipulation, Mr. Buffum gave symptoms of life. Like a
+volcano under premonitory signs of an eruption, a wheezy chuckle seemed
+to begin somewhere in the region of his boots, and rise, growing more
+and more audible, until it burst into a full demonstration, that was
+half laugh and half cough.
+
+"Why, what are you laughing at, father?" exclaimed Miss Buffum.
+
+The truth was that Mr. Buffum had not slept at all. The simulation of
+sleep had been indulged in simply to escape the necessity of talking.
+
+"It was old Tilden," said Mr. Buffum, and then went off into another fit
+of coughing and laughing that nearly strangled him.
+
+"I wonder if it was!" seemed to come simultaneously from the lips of the
+mother and her daughters.
+
+"Did you ever see him again?" inquired Mr. Buffum.
+
+"I seen 'im oncet, in the spring, I s'pose," said Jim, "what there was
+left of 'im. There wasn't much left but an old shirt and some bones, an'
+I guess he wa'n't no great shakes of an angel. I buried 'im where I
+found 'im, and said nothin' to nobody."
+
+"That's right," wheezed Mr. Buffum. "It's just as well."
+
+"The truth is," said Mrs. Buffum, "that folks made a great fuss about
+his gettin' away from here and never bein' found. I thought 'twas a good
+riddance myself, but people seem to think that these crazy critturs are
+just as much consequence as any body, when they don't know a thing. He
+was always arter our dinner horn, and blowin', and thinkin' he was the
+Angel Gabriel. Well, it's a comfort to know he's buried, and isn't no
+more expense."
+
+"I sh'd like to see some of these crazy people," said Jim. "They must be
+a jolly set. My ha'r can't stand any straighter nor it does now, and
+when you feed the animals in the mornin', I'd kind o' like to go round
+with ye."
+
+The women insisted that he ought not to do it. Only those who understood
+them, and were used to them, ought to see them.
+
+"You see, we can't give 'em much furnitur'," said Mrs. Buffum. "They
+break it, and they tear their beds to pieces, and all we can do is to
+jest keep them alive. As for keepin' their bodies and souls together, I
+don't s'pose they've got any souls. They are nothin' but animils, as you
+say, and I don't see why any body should treat an animil like a human
+bein.' They hav'n't no sense of what you do for 'em."
+
+"Oh, ye needn't be afraid o' my blowin'. I never blowed about old
+Tilden, as you call 'im, an' I never expect to," said Jim.
+
+"That's right," wheezed Mr. Buffum. "It's just as well."
+
+"Well, I s'pose the Doctor'll be up in the mornin'," said Mrs. Buffum,
+"and we shall clean up a little, and put in new straw, and p'r'aps you
+can go round with him?"
+
+Mr. Buffum nodded his assent, and after an evening spent in
+story-telling and chaffing, Jim went to bed upon the shakedown in an
+upper room to which he was conducted.
+
+Long before he was on his feet in the morning, the paupers of the
+establishment had been fed, and things had been put in order for the
+medical inspector. Soon after breakfast, the Doctor's crazy little gig
+was seen ascending the hill, and Mr. Buffum and Jim were at the door
+when he drove up. Buffum took the Doctor aside, and told him of Jim's
+desire to make the rounds with him. Nothing could have delighted the
+little man more than a proposition of this kind, because it gave him an
+opportunity to talk. Jim had measured his man when he heard him speak
+the previous day, and as they crossed the road together, he said:
+"Doctor, they didn't treat ye very well down there yesterday. I said to
+myself; 'Jim Fenton, what would ye done if ye had knowed as much as that
+doctor, an' had worked as hard as he had, and then be'n jest as good as
+stomped on by a set o' fellows that didn't know a hole in the ground
+when they seen it?' and, says I, answerin' myself, 'ye'd 'a' made the
+fur fly, and spilt blood.'"
+
+"Ah," responded the Doctor, "Violence resteth in the bosom of fools."
+
+"Well, it wouldn't 'a' rested in my bosom long. I'd 'a' made a young
+'arthquake there in two minutes."
+
+The Doctor smiled, and said with a sigh:
+
+"The vulgar mind does not comprehend science."
+
+"Now, jest tell me what science is," said Jim. "I hearn a great deal
+about science, but I live up in the woods, and I can't read very much,
+and ye see I ain't edicated, and I made up my mind if I ever found a man
+as knowed what science was, I'd ask him."
+
+"Science, sir, is the sum of organized and systematized knowledge,"
+replied the Doctor.
+
+"Now, that seems reasomble," said Jim, "but what is it like? What do
+they do with it? Can a feller get a livin' by it?"
+
+"Not in Sevenoaks," replied the Doctor, with a bitter smile.
+
+"Then, what's the use of it?"
+
+"Pardon me, Mr. Fenton," replied the Doctor. "You'll excuse me, when I
+veil you that you have not arrived at that mental altitude--that
+intellectual plane--"
+
+"No," said Jim, "I live on a sort of a medder."
+
+The case being hopeless, the Doctor went on and opened the door into
+what he was pleased to call "the insane ward." As Jim put his head into
+the door, he uttered a "phew!" and then said:
+
+"This is worser nor the town meetin'."
+
+The moment Jim's eyes beheld the misery that groaned out its days and
+nights within the stingy cells, his great heart melted with pity. For
+the first moments, his disposition to jest passed away, and all his soul
+rose up in indignation. If profane words came to his lips, they came
+from genuine commiseration, and a sense of the outrage that had been
+committed upon those who had been stamped with the image of the
+Almighty.
+
+"This is a case of Shakspearean madness," said Dr. Radcliffe, pausing
+before the barred and grated cell that held a half-nude woman. It was a
+little box of a place, with a rude bedstead in one corner, filthy beyond
+the power of water to cleanse. The occupant sat on a little bench in
+another corner, with her eyes rolled up to Jim's in a tragic expression,
+which would make the fortune of an actress. He felt of his hair,
+impulsively.
+
+"How are ye now? How do ye feel?" inquired Jim, tenderly.
+
+She gave him no answer, but glared at him as if she would search the
+very depths of his heart.
+
+"If ye'll look t'other way, ye'll obleege me," said Jim.
+
+But the woman gazed on, speechless, as if all the soul that had left her
+brain had taken up its residence in her large, black eyes.
+
+"Is she tryin' to look me out o' countenance, Doctor?" Inquired Jim,
+"'cause, if she is, I'll stand here and let 'er try it on; but if she
+ain't I'll take the next one."
+
+"Oh, she doesn't know what she's about, but it's a very curious form of
+insanity, and has almost a romantic interest attached to it from the
+fact that it did not escape the notice of the great bard."
+
+"I notice, myself," said Jim, "that she's grated and barred."
+
+The Doctor looked at his visitor inquisitively, but the woodman's face
+was as innocent as that of a child. Then they passed on to the next
+cell, and there they found another Woman sitting quietly in the corner,
+among the straw.
+
+"How fare ye, this mornin'?" inquired Jim, with a voice full of
+kindness.
+
+"I'm just on the verge of eternity," replied the woman.
+
+"Don't ye be so sure o' that, now," responded Jim. "Ye're good for ten
+year yit."
+
+"No," said the woman, "I shall die in a minute."
+
+"Does she mean that?" inquired Jim, turning to the Doctor.
+
+"Yes, and she has been just on the verge of eternity for fifteen years,"
+replied the Doctor, coolly. "That's rather an interesting case, too.
+I've given it a good deal of study. It's hopeless, of course, but it's a
+marked case, and full of suggestion to a scientific man."
+
+"Isn't it a pity," responded Jim, "that she isn't a scientific man
+herself? It might amuse her, you know."
+
+The Doctor laughed, and led him on to the next cell, and here he found
+the most wretched creature he had ever seen. He greeted her as he had
+greeted the others, and she looked up to him with surprise, raised
+herself from the straw, and said:
+
+"You speak like a Christian."
+
+The tears came into Jim's eyes, for he saw in that little sentence, the
+cruelty of the treatment she had received.
+
+"Well, I ain't no Christian, as I knows on," he responded, "an' I don't
+think they're very plenty in these parts; but I'm right sorry for ye.
+You look as if you might be a good sort of a woman."
+
+"I should have been if it hadn't been for the pigeons," said the woman.
+"They flew over a whole day, in flocks, and flocks, and cursed the
+world. All the people have got the plague, and they don't know it. My
+children all died of it, and went to hell. Everybody is going to hell,
+and nothing can save them. Old Buffum'll go first. Robert Belcher'll go
+next. Dr. Radcliffe will go next."
+
+"Look here, old woman, ye jest leave me out of that calkerlation," said
+Jim.
+
+"Will you have the kindness to kill me, sir?" said the woman.
+
+"I really can't, this mornin'," he replied, "for I've got a good ways
+to tramp to-day; but if I ever want to kill anybody I'll come round,
+p'r'aps, and 'commodate ye."
+
+"Thank you," she responded heartily.
+
+The Doctor turned to Jim, and said:
+
+"Do you see that hole in the wall, beyond her head? Well, that hole was
+made by Mr. Buffum. She had begged him to kill her so often that he
+thought he would put her to the test, and he agreed he would do so. So
+he set her up by that wall, and took a heavy stick from the wood-pile,
+raised it as high as the room would permit, and then brought it down
+with great violence, burying the end of the bludgeon in the plastering.
+I suppose he came within three inches of her head, and she never winked.
+It was a very interesting experiment, as it illustrated the genuineness
+of her desire for death Otherwise the case is much like many others."
+
+"Very interestin'," responded Jim, "very! Didn't you never think of
+makin' her so easy and comfortable that she wouldn't want any body to
+kill her? I sh'd think that would be an interestin' experiment."
+
+Now the Doctor had one resort, which, among the people of Sevenoaks, was
+infallible, whenever he wished to check argumentation on any subject
+relating to his profession. Any man who undertook to argue a medical
+question with him, or make a suggestion relating to medical treatment,
+he was in the habit of flooring at once, by wisely and almost pityingly
+shaking his head, and saying: "It's very evident to me, sir, that you've
+not received a medical education." So, when Jim suggested, in his
+peculiar way, that the woman ought to be treated better, the Doctor saw
+the point, and made his usual response.
+
+"Mr. Fenton," said he, "excuse me, sir, but it's very evident that
+you've not had a medical education."
+
+"There's where you're weak," Jim responded. "I'm a reg'lar M.D., three
+C's, double X, two I's. That's the year I was born, and that's my
+perfession. I studied with an Injun, and I know more 'arbs, and roots,
+and drawin' leaves than any doctor in a hundred mile; and if I can be of
+any use to ye, Doctor, there's my hand."
+
+And Jim seized the Doctor's hand, and gave it a pressure which raised
+the little man off the floor.
+
+The Doctor looked at him with eyes equally charged with amusement and
+amazement. He never had been met in that way before, and was not
+inclined to leave the field without in some way convincing Jim of his
+own superiority.
+
+"Mr. Fenton," said he, "did you ever see a medulla oblongata?"
+
+"Well, I seen a good many garters," replied the woodsman, 'in the
+stores, an' I guess they was mostly oblong."
+
+"Did you ever see a solar plexus?" inquired the Doctor, severely.
+
+"Dozens of 'em. I allers pick a few in the fall, but I don't make much
+use of 'em."
+
+"Perhaps you've seen a pineal gland," suggested the disgusted Doctor.
+
+"I make 'em," responded Jim. "I whittle 'em out evenin's, ye know."
+
+"If you were in one of these cells," said the Doctor, "I should think
+you were as mad as a March hare."
+
+At this moment the Doctor's attention was called to a few harmless
+patients who thronged toward him as soon as they learned that he was in
+the building, begging for medicine; for if there is anything that a
+pauper takes supreme delight in it is drugs. Passing along with them to
+a little lobby, where he could inspect them more conveniently, he left
+Jim behind, as that personage did not prove to be so interesting and
+impressible as he had hoped. Jim watched him as he moved away, with a
+quiet chuckle, and then turned to pursue his investigations. The next
+cell he encountered held the man he was looking for. Sitting in the
+straw, talking to himself or some imaginary companion, he saw his old
+friend. It took him a full minute to realize that the gentle sportsman,
+the true Christian, the delicate man, the delightful companion, was
+there before him, a wreck--cast out from among his fellows, confined in
+a noisome cell, and hopelessly given over to his vagrant fancies and the
+tender mercies of Thomas Buffum. When the memory of what Paul Benedict
+had been to him, at one period of his life, came to Jim, with the full
+realization of his present misery and degradation, the strong man wept
+like a child. He drew an old silk handkerchief from his pocket, blew his
+nose as if it had been a trumpet, and then slipped up to the cell and
+said, softly: "Paul Benedict, give us your benediction."
+
+"Jim!" said the man, looking up quickly.
+
+"Good God! he knows me," said Jim, whimpering. "Yes, Mr. Benedict, I'm
+the same rough old fellow. How fare ye?"
+
+"I'm miserable," replied the man.
+
+"Well, ye don't look as ef ye felt fust-rate. How did ye git in here?"
+
+"Oh, I was damned when I died. It's all right, I know; but it's
+terrible."
+
+"Why, ye don't think ye're in hell, do ye?" inquired Jim.
+
+"Don't you see?" inquired the wretch, looking around him.
+
+"Oh, yes; I see! I guess you're right," said Jim, falling in with his
+fancy.
+
+"But where did you come from, Jim? I never heard that you were dead."
+
+"Yes; I'm jest as dead as you be."
+
+"Well, what did you come here for?"
+
+"Oh, I thought I'd call round," replied Jim carelessly.
+
+"Did you come from Abraham's bosom?" inquired Mr. Benedict eagerly.
+
+"Straight."
+
+"I can't think why you should come to see me, into such a place as
+this!" said Benedict, wonderingly.
+
+"Oh, I got kind o' oneasy. Don't have much to do over there, ye know."
+
+"How did you get across the gulf?"
+
+"I jest shoved over in a birch, an' ye must be perlite enough to return
+the call," replied Jim, in the most matter-of-course manner possible.
+
+Benedict looked down upon his torn and wretched clothing, and then
+turned his pitiful eyes up to Jim, who saw the thoughts that were
+passing in the poor man's mind.
+
+"Never mind your clo'es," he said. "I dress jest the same there as I did
+in Number Nine, and nobody says a word. The fact is, they don't mind
+very much about clo'es there, any way. I'll come over and git ye, ye
+know, an' interjuce ye, and ye shall have jest as good a time as Jim
+Fenton can give ye."
+
+"Shall I take my rifle along?" inquired Benedict.
+
+"Yes, an' plenty of amanition. There ain't no game to speak on--only a
+few pa'tridge; but we can shoot at a mark all day, ef we want to."
+
+Benedict tottered to his feet and came to the grated door, with his eyes
+all alight with hope and expectation. "Jim, you always were a good
+fellow," said he, dropping his voice to a whisper, "I'll show you my
+improvements. Belcher mustn't get hold of them. He's after them. I hear
+him round nights, but he shan't have them. I've got a new tumbler,
+and--"
+
+"Well, never mind now," replied Jim. "It'll be jest as well when ye come
+over to spend the day with me. Now ye look a here! Don't you say nothin'
+about this to nobody. They'll all want to go, and we can't have 'em. You
+an' I want to git red of the crowd, ye know. We allers did. So when I
+come arter ye, jest keep mum, and we'll have a high old time."
+
+All the intellect that Benedict could exercise was summoned to
+comprehend this injunction. He nodded his head; he laid it up in his
+memory. Hope had touched him, and he had won at least a degree of
+momentary strength and steadiness from her gracious finger.
+
+"Now jest lay down an' rest, an' keep your thoughts to yerself till I
+come agin. Don't tell nobody I've be'n here, and don't ask leave of
+nobody. I'll settle with the old boss if he makes any sort of a row; and
+ye know when Jim Fenton says he'll stand between ye and all harm he
+means it, an' nothin' else."
+
+"Yes, Jim."
+
+"An' when I come here--most likely in the night--I'll bring a robe to
+put on ye, and we'll go out still."
+
+"Yes, Jim."
+
+"Sure you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Jim."
+
+"Well, good-bye. Give us your hand. Here's hopin'."
+
+Benedict held himself up by the slats of the door, while Jim went along
+to rejoin the Doctor. Outside of this door was still a solid one, which
+had been thrown wide open in the morning for the purpose of admitting
+the air. In this door Jim discovered a key, which he quietly placed in
+his pocket, and which he judged, by its size, was fitted to the lock of
+the inner as well as the outer door. He had already discovered that the
+door by which he entered the building was bolted upon the outside, the
+keeper doubtless supposing that no one would wish to enter so foul a
+place, and trusting thus to keep the inmates in durance.
+
+"Well, Doctor," said Jim, "this sort o' thing is too many for me. I
+gi'en it up. It's very interestin', I s'pose, but my head begins to
+spin, an' it seems to me it's gettin' out of order. Do ye see my har,
+Doctor?" said he, exposing the heavy shock that crowned his head.
+
+"Yes, I see it," replied the Doctor tartly. He thought he had shaken off
+his unpleasant visitor, and his return disturbed him.
+
+"Well, Doctor, that has all riz sence I come in here."
+
+"Are you sure?" inquired the Doctor, mollified in the presence of a fact
+that might prove to be of scientific interest.
+
+"I'd jest combed it when you come this mornin'. D'ye ever see anythin'
+like that? How am I goin' to git it down?"
+
+"Very singular," said the Doctor.
+
+"Yes, an' look here! D'ye see the har on the back o' my hand? That
+stands up jest the same. Why, Doctor, I feel like a hedgehog! What am I
+goin' to do?"
+
+"Why, this is really very interesting!" said the Doctor, taking out his
+note-book. "What is your name?"
+
+"Jim Fenton."
+
+"Age?"
+
+"Thirty or forty--somewhere along there."
+
+"H'm!" exclaimed the Doctor, writing out the whole reply. "Occupation?"
+
+"M.D., three C's, double X., two I's."
+
+"H'm! What do you do?"
+
+"Trap, mostly."
+
+"Religious?"
+
+"When I'm skeered."
+
+"Nativity?"
+
+"Which?"
+
+"What is your parentage? Where were you born?"
+
+"Well, my father was an Englishman, my mother was a Scotchman, I was
+born in Ireland, raised in Canady, and have lived for ten year in Number
+Nine."
+
+"How does your head feel now?"
+
+"It feels as if every har was a pin. Do you s'pose it'll strike in?"
+
+The Doctor looked him over as if he were a bullock, and went on with his
+statistics: "Weight, about two hundred pounds; height, six feet two;
+temperament, sanguine-bilious."
+
+"Some time when you are in Sevenoaks," said the Doctor, slipping his
+pencil into its sheath in his note-book, and putting his book in his
+pocket, "come and see me."
+
+"And stay all night?" inquired Jim, innocently.
+
+"I'd like to see the case again," said Dr. Radcliffe, nodding. "I shall
+not detain you long. The matter has a certain scientific interest."
+
+"Well, good-bye, Doctor," said Jim, holding down his hair. "I'm off for
+Number Nine. I'm much obleeged for lettin' me go round with ye; an' I
+never want to go agin."
+
+Jim went out into the pleasant morning air. The sun had dispelled the
+light frost of the night, the sky was blue overhead, and the blue-birds,
+whose first spring notes were as sweet and fresh as the blossoms of the
+arbutus, were caroling among the maples. Far away to the north he could
+see the mountain at whose foot his cabin stood, red in the sunshine,
+save where in the deeper gorges the snow still lingered. Sevenoaks lay
+at the foot of the hill, on the other hand, and he could see the people
+passing to and fro along its streets, and, perched upon the hill-side
+among its trees and gardens, the paradise that wealth had built for
+Robert Belcher. The first emotion that thrilled him as he emerged from
+the shadows of misery and mental alienation was that of gratitude. He
+filled his lungs with the vitalizing air, but expired his long breath
+with a sigh.
+
+"What bothers me," said Jim to himself, "is, that the Lord lets one set
+of people that is happy, make it so thunderin' rough for another set of
+people that is onhappy. An' there's another thing that bothers me," he
+said, continuing his audible cogitations. "How do they 'xpect a feller
+is goin' to git well, when they put 'im where a well feller'd git sick?
+I vow I think that poor old creetur that wanted me to kill her is
+straighter in her brains than any body I seen on the lot. I couldn't
+live there a week, an' if I was a hopeless case, an' know'd it, I'd hang
+myself on a nail."
+
+Jim saw his host across the road, and went over to him. Mr. Buffum had
+had a hard time with his pipes that morning, and was hoarse and very red
+in the face.
+
+"Jolly lot you've got over there," said Jim. "If I had sech a family as
+them, I'd take 'em 'round for a show, and hire Belcher's man to do the
+talkin'. 'Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and see how a Christian can treat
+a feller bein'. Here's a feller that's got sense enough left to think
+he's in hell. Observe his wickedness, gentlemen, and don't be afraid to
+use your handkerchers.'"
+
+As Jim talked, he found he was getting angry, and that the refractory
+hair that covered his poll began to feel hot. It would not do to betray
+his feelings, so he ended his sally with a huge laugh that had about as
+much music and heartiness in it as the caw of a crow. Buffum joined him
+with his wheezy chuckle, but having sense enough to see that Jim had
+really been pained, he explained that he kept his paupers as well as he
+could afford to.
+
+"Oh, I know it," said Jim. "If there's anything wrong about it, it don't
+begin with you, Buffum, nor it don't end with you; but it seems a little
+rough to a feller like me to see people shut up, an' in the dark, when
+there's good breathin' an' any amount o' sunshine to be had, free gratis
+for nothin'."
+
+"Well, they don't know the difference," said Buffum.
+
+"Arter a while, I guess they don't," Jim responded; "an', now, what's
+the damage? for I've got to go 'long."
+
+"I sha'n't charge you anything," whispered Mr. Buffum. "You hav'n't said
+anything about old Tilden, and it's just as well."
+
+Jim winked, nodded, and indicated that he not only understood Mr.
+Buffum, but would act upon his hint. Then he went into the house, bade
+good-bye to Mr. Buffum's "women," kissed his hand gallantly to the elder
+Miss Buffum, who declared, in revenge, that she would not help him on
+with his pack, although she had intended to do so, ands after having
+gathered his burdens, trudged off northward.
+
+From the time he entered the establishment on the previous evening, he
+had not caught a glimpse of Harry Benedict. "He's cute," said Jim, "an'
+jest the little chap for this business." As he came near the stump over
+the brow of the hill, behind which the poor-house buildings disappeared,
+he saw first the brim of an old hat, then one eye, then an eager,
+laughing face, and then the whole trim little figure. The lad was
+transformed. Jim thought when he saw him first that he was a pretty
+boy, but there was something about him now that thrilled the woodsman
+with admiration.
+
+Jim came up to him with: "Mornin,' Harry!" and the mountain that shone
+so gloriously in the light before him, was not more sunny than Jim's
+face. He sat down behind the stump without removing his pack, and once
+more had the little fellow in his arms.
+
+"Harry," said Jim, "I've had ye in my arms all night--a little live
+thing--an' I've be'n a longin' to git at ye agin. If ye want to, very
+much, you can put yer arms round my neck, an' hug me like a little bar.
+Thar, that's right, that's right. I shall feel it till I see ye agin.
+Ye've been thinkin' 'bout what I telled ye last night?"
+
+"Oh yes!" responded the boy, eagerly, "all the time."
+
+"Well, now, do you know the days--Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and the rest
+of 'em?"
+
+"Yes, sir, all of them."
+
+"Now, remember, to-day is Wednesday. It will be seven days to next
+Wednesday, then Thursday will be eight, Friday, nine, Saturday, ten. You
+always know when Saturday comes, don't ye?"
+
+"Yes, because it's our school holiday," replied Harry.
+
+"Well, then, in ten days--that is, a week from next Saturday--I shall
+come agin. Saturday night, don't ye go to bed. Leastways, ef ye do, ye
+must git out of the house afore ten o'clock, and come straight to this
+old stump. Can ye git away, an' nobody seen ye?"
+
+"Yes, I hope so," replied the boy. "They don't mind anything about us. I
+could stay out all night, and they wouldn't know where I was."
+
+"Well, that's all right, now. Remember--be jest here with all the clo'es
+ye've got, at ten o'clock, Saturday night--ten days off--cut 'em in a
+stick every day--the next Saturday after the next one, an' don't git
+mixed."
+
+The boy assured him that he should make no mistake.
+
+"When I come, I sh'll bring a hoss and wagin. It'll be a stiddy hoss,
+and I sh'll come here to this stump, an' stop till I seen ye. Then ye'll
+hold the hoss till I go an' git yer pa, and then we'll wopse 'im up in
+some blankits, an' make a clean streak for the woods. It'll be late
+Sunday mornin' afore any body knows he's gone, and there won't be no
+people on the road where we are goin', and ef we're druv into cover, I
+know where the cover is. Jim Fenton's got friends on the road, and
+they'll be mum as beetles. Did ye ever seen a beetle, Harry?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, they work right along and don't say nothin' to nobody, but they
+keep workin'; an' you an' me has got to be jest like beetles. Remember!
+an' now git back to Tom Buffum's the best way ye can."
+
+The boy reassured Jim, gave him a kiss, jumped over the fence, and crept
+along through the bushes toward the house. Jim watched him, wrapped in
+admiration.
+
+"He's got the ra-al hunter in 'im, jest like his father, but there's
+more in 'im nor there ever was in his father. I sh'd kinder liked to 'a'
+knowed his ma," said Jim, as he took up his rifle and started in earnest
+for his home.
+
+As he plodded along his way, he thought over all the experiences of the
+morning.
+
+"Any man," said he to himself, "who can string things together in the
+way Benedict did this mornin' can be cured. Startin' in hell, he was all
+right, an' everything reasomble. The startin' is the principal p'int,
+an' if I can git 'im to start from Number Nine, I'll fetch 'im round. He
+never was so much to home as he was in the woods, an' when I git 'im
+thar, and git 'im fishin' and huntin', and sleepin' on hemlock, an'
+eatin' venison and corn-dodgers, it'll come to 'im that he's been there
+afore, and he'll look round to find Abram, an' he won't see 'im, and his
+craze 'll kind o' leak out of 'im afore he knows it."
+
+Jim's theory was his own, but it would be difficult for Dr. Radcliffe,
+and all his fellow-devotees of science, to controvert it. It contented
+him, at least; and full of plans and hopes, stimulated by the thought
+that he had a job on hand that would not only occupy his thoughts, but
+give exercise to the benevolent impulses of his heart, he pressed on,
+the miles disappearing behind him and shortening before, as if the
+ground had been charmed.
+
+He stopped at noon at a settler's lonely house, occupied by Mike Conlin,
+a friendly Irishman. Jim took the man aside and related his plans. Mike
+entered at once upon the project with interest and sympathy, and Jim
+knew that he could trust him wholly. It was arranged that Jim should
+return to Mike the evening before the proposed descent upon Tom Buffum's
+establishment, and sleep. The following evening Mike's horse would be
+placed at Jim's disposal, and he and the Benedicts were to drive through
+during the night to the point on the river where he would leave his
+boat. Mike was to find his horse there and take him home.
+
+Having accomplished his business, Jim went on, and before the twilight
+had deepened into night, he found himself briskly paddling up the
+stream, and at ten o'clock he had drawn his little boat up the beach,
+and embraced Turk, his faithful dog, whom he had left, not only to take
+care of his cabin, but to provide for himself. He had already eaten his
+supper, and five minutes after he entered his cabin he and his dog were
+snoring side by side in a sleep too profound to be disturbed, even by
+the trumpet of old Tilden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+IN WHICH, JIM ENLARGES HIS ACCOMMODATIONS AND ADOPTS A VIOLENT METHOD OF
+SECURING BOARDERS.
+
+
+When Jim Fenton waked from his long and refreshing sleep, after his
+weary tramp and his row upon the river, the sun was shining brightly,
+the blue-birds were singing, the partridges were drumming, and a red
+squirrel, which even Turk would not disturb, was looking for provisions
+in his cabin, or eyeing him saucily from one of the beams over his head.
+He lay for a moment, stretching his huge limbs and rubbing his eyes,
+thinking over what he had undertaken, and exclaiming at last: "Well,
+Jim, ye've got a big contrack," he jumped up, and, striking a fire,
+cooked his breakfast.
+
+His first work was to make an addition to his accommodations for
+lodgers, and he set about it in thorough earnest. Before noon he had
+stripped bark enough from the trees in his vicinity to cover a building
+as large as his own. The question with him was whether he should put up
+an addition to his cabin, or hide a new building somewhere behind the
+trees in his vicinity. In case of pursuit, his lodgers would need a
+cover, and this he knew he could not give them in his cabin; for all who
+were in the habit of visiting the woods were familiar with that
+structure, and would certainly notice any addition to it, and be curious
+about it. Twenty rods away there was a thicket of hemlock, and by
+removing two or three trees in its center, he could successfully hide
+from any but the most inquisitive observation the cabin he proposed to
+erect. His conclusion was quickly arrived at, and before he slept that
+night the trees were down, the frame was up, and the bark was gathered.
+The next day sufficed to make the cabin habitable; but he lingered about
+the work for several days, putting up various appointments of
+convenience, building a broad bed of hemlock boughs, so deep and
+fragrant and inviting, that he wondered he had never undertaken to do as
+much for himself as he had thus gladly done for others, and making sure
+that there was no crevice at which the storms of spring and summer could
+force an entrance.
+
+When he could do no more, he looked it over with approval and said:
+"Thar! If I'd a done that for Miss Butterworth, I couldn't 'a' done
+better nor that." Then he went back to his cabin muttering: "I wonder
+what she'd 'a' said if she'd hearn that little speech o' mine!"
+
+What remained for Jim to do was to make provision to feed his boarders.
+His trusty rifle stood in the corner of his cabin, and Jim had but to
+take it in his hand to excite the expectations of his dog, and to
+receive from him, in language as plain as an eager whine and a wagging
+tail could express, an offer of assistance. Before night there hung in
+front of his cabin a buck, dragged with difficulty through the woods
+from the place where he had shot him. A good part of the following day
+was spent in cutting from the carcass every ounce of flesh, and packing
+it into pails, to be stowed in a spring whose water, summer and winter
+alike, was almost at the freezing point.
+
+"He'll need a good deal o' lookin' arter, and I shan't hunt much the
+fust few days," said Jim to himself; "an' as for flour, there's a sack
+on't, an' as for pertaters, we shan't want many on 'em till they come
+agin, an' as for salt pork, there's a whole bar'l buried, an' as for the
+rest, let me alone!"
+
+Jim had put off the removal for ten days, partly to get time for all his
+preparations, and partly that the rapidly advancing spring might give
+him warmer weather for the removal of a delicate patient. He found,
+however, at the conclusion of his labors, that he had two or three spare
+days on his hands. His mind was too busy and too much excited by his
+enterprise to permit him to engage in any regular employment, and he
+roamed around the woods, or sat whittling in the sun, or smoked, or
+thought of Miss Butterworth. It was strange how, when the business upon
+his hands was suspended, he went back again and again, to his brief
+interview with that little woman. He thought of her eyes full of tears,
+of her sympathy with the poor, of her smart and saucy speech when he
+parted with her, and he said again and again to himself, what he said on
+that occasion: "she's a genuine creetur!" and the last time he said it,
+on the day before his projected expedition, he added: "an' who knows!"
+
+Then a bright idea seized him, and taking out a huge jack-knife, he went
+through the hemlocks to his new cabin, and there carved into the slabs
+of bark that constituted its door, the words "Number Ten." This was the
+crowning grace of that interesting structure. He looked at it close, and
+then from a distance, and then he went back chuckling to his cabin, to
+pass his night in dreams of fast driving before the fury of all
+Sevenoaks, with Phipps and his gray trotters in advance.
+
+Early on Friday morning preceding his proposed descent upon the
+poor-house, he gave his orders to Turk.
+
+"I'm goin' away, Turk," said he. "I'm goin' away agin. Ye was a good dog
+when I went away afore, and ye berhaved a good deal more like a
+Christian nor a Turk. Look out for this 'ere cabin, and look out for
+yerself. I'm a goin' to bring back a sick man, an' a little feller to
+play with ye. Now, ole feller, won't that be jolly? Ye must'n't make no
+noise when I come--understand?"
+
+Turk wagged his tail in assent, and Jim departed, believing that his dog
+had understood every word as completely as if he were a man.
+"Good-bye--here's hopin'," said Jim, waving his hand to Turk as he
+pushed his boat from the bank, and disappeared down the river. The dog
+watched him until he passed from sight, and then went back to the cabin
+to mope away the period of his master's absence.
+
+Jim sat in the stern of his little boat, guiding and propelling it with
+his paddle. Flocks of ducks rose before him, and swashed down with a
+fluttering ricochet into the water again, beyond the shot of his rifle.
+A fish-hawk, perched above his last year's nest, sat on a dead limb and
+watched him as he glided by. A blue heron rose among the reeds, looked
+at him quietly, and then hid behind a tree. A muskrat swam shoreward
+from his track, with only his nose above water. A deer, feeding among
+the lily-pads, looked up, snorted, and then wheeled and plunged into the
+woods. All these things he saw, but they made no more impression upon
+his memory than is left upon the canvas by the projected images of a
+magic-lantern. His mind was occupied by his scheme, which had never
+seemed so serious a matter as when he had started upon its fulfilment.
+All the possibilities of immediate detection and efficient pursuit
+presented themselves to him. He had no respect for Thomas Buffum, yet
+there was the thought that he was taking away from him one of the
+sources of his income. He would not like to have Buffum suppose that he
+could be guilty of a mean act, or capable of making an ungrateful return
+for hospitality. Still he did not doubt his own motives, or his ability
+to do good to Paul Benedict and his boy.
+
+It was nearly ten miles from Jim's cabin, down the winding river, to the
+point where he was to hide his boat, and take to the road which would
+lead him to the house of Mike Conlin, half way to Sevenoaks. Remembering
+before he started that the blind cart-road over which he must bring his
+patient was obstructed at various points by fallen trees, he brought
+along his axe, and found himself obliged to spend the whole day on his
+walk, and in clearing the road for the passage of a wagon. It was six
+o'clock before he reached Mike's house, the outermost post of the
+"settlement," which embraced in its definition the presence of women and
+children.
+
+"Be gorry," said Mike, who had long been looking for him, "I was afeared
+ye'd gi'en it up. The old horse is ready this two hours. I've took more
+nor three quarts o' dander out iv 'is hide, and gi'en 'im four quarts
+o' water and a pail iv oats, an' he'll go."
+
+Mike nodded his head as if he were profoundly sure of it. Jim had used
+horses in his life, in the old days of lumbering and logging, and was
+quite at home with them. He had had many a drive with Mike, and knew the
+animal he would be required to handle--a large, hardy, raw-boned
+creature, that had endured much in Mike's hands, and was quite equal to
+the present emergency.
+
+As soon as Jim had eaten his supper, and Mike's wife had put up for him
+food enough to last him and such accessions to his party as he expected
+to secure during the night, and supplied him abundantly with wrappings,
+he went to the stable, mounted the low, strong wagon before which Mike
+had placed the horse, and with a hearty "good luck to ye!" from the
+Irishman ringing in his ears, started on the road to Sevenoaks. This
+portion of the way was easy. The road was worn somewhat, and moderately
+well kept; and there was nothing to interfere with the steady jog which
+measured the distance at the rate of six miles an hour. For three steady
+hours he went on, the horse no more worried than if he had been standing
+in the stable. At nine o'clock the lights in the farmers' cottages by
+the wayside were extinguished, and the families they held were in bed.
+Then the road began to grow dim, and the sky to become dark. The fickle
+spring weather gave promise of rain. Jim shuddered at the thought of the
+exposure to which, in a shower, his delicate friend would be subjected,
+but thought that if he could but get him to the wagon, and cover him
+well before its onset, he could shield him from harm.
+
+The town clock was striking ten as he drove up to the stump where he was
+to meet Benedict's boy. He stopped and whistled. A whistle came back in
+reply, and a dark little object crept out from behind the stump, and
+came up to the wagon.
+
+"Harry, how's your pa?" said Jim.
+
+"He's been very bad to-day," said Harry. "He says he's going to
+Abraham's bosom on a visit, and he's been walking around in his room,
+and wondering why you don't come for him."
+
+"Who did he say that to?" inquired Jim.
+
+"To me," replied the boy. "And he told me not to speak to Mr. Buffum
+about it."
+
+Jim breathed a sigh of relief, and saying "All right!" he leaped from
+the wagon. Then taking out a heavy blanket, he said:
+
+"Now, Harry, you jest stand by the old feller's head till I git back to
+ye. He's out o' the road, an' ye needn't stir if any body comes along."
+
+Harry went up to the old horse, patted his nose and his breast, and told
+him he was good. The creature seemed to understand it, and gave him no
+trouble. Jim then stalked off noiselessly into the darkness, and the boy
+waited with a trembling and expectant heart.
+
+Jim reached the poor-house, and stood still in the middle of the road
+between the two establishments. The lights in both had been
+extinguished, and stillness reigned in that portion occupied by Thomas
+Buffum and his family. The darkness was so great that Jim could almost
+feel it. No lights were visible except in the village at the foot of the
+hill, and these were distant and feeble, through an open window--left
+open that the asthmatic keeper of the establishment might be supplied
+with breath--he heard a stertorous snore. On the other side matters were
+not so silent. There were groans, and yells, and gabble from the reeking
+and sleepless patients, who had been penned up for the long and terrible
+night. Concluding that every thing was as safe for his operations as it
+would become at any time, he slowly felt his way to the door of the ward
+which held Paul Benedict, and found it fastened on the outside, as he
+had anticipated. Lifting the bar from the iron arms that held it, and
+pushing back the bolt, he silently opened the door. Whether the darkness
+within was greater than that without, or whether the preternaturally
+quickened ears of the patients detected the manipulations of the
+fastenings, he did not know, but he was conscious at once that the
+tumult within was hushed. It was apparent that they had been visited in
+the night before, and that the accustomed intruder had come on no gentle
+errand.. There was not a sound as Jim felt his way along from stall to
+stall, sickened almost to retching by the insufferable stench that
+reached his nostrils and poisoned every inspiration.
+
+On the morning of his previous visit he had taken all the bearings with
+reference to an expedition in the darkness, and so, feeling his way
+along the hall, he had little difficulty in finding the cell in which he
+had left his old friend.
+
+Jim tried the door, but found it locked. His great fear was that the
+lock would be changed, but it had not been meddled with, and had either
+been furnished with a new key, or had been locked with a skeleton. He
+slipped the stolen key in, and the bolt slid back. Opening the outer
+door, he tried the inner, but the key did not fit the lock. Here was a
+difficulty not entirely unexpected, but seeming to be insurmountable. He
+quietly went back to the door of entrance, and as quietly closed it,
+that no sound of violence might reach and wake the inmates of the house
+across the road. Then he returned, and whispered in a low voice to the
+inmate:
+
+"Paul Benedict, give us your benediction."
+
+"Jim," responded the man in a whisper, so light that it could reach no
+ear but his own.
+
+"Don't make no noise, not even if I sh'd make consid'able," said Jim.
+
+Then, grasping the bars with both hands, he gave the door a sudden pull,
+into which he put all the might of his huge frame. A thousand pounds
+would not have measured it, and the door yielded, not at the bolt, but
+at the hinges. Screws deeply imbedded were pulled out bodily. A second
+lighter wrench completed the task, and the door was noiselessly set
+aside, though Jim was trembling in every muscle.
+
+Benedict stood at the door.
+
+"Here's the robe that Abram sent ye," said Jim, throwing over the poor
+man's shoulders an ample blanket; and putting one of his large arms
+around him, he led him shuffling out of the hall, and shut and bolted
+the door.
+
+He had no sooner done this, than the bedlam inside broke loose. There
+were yells, and howls, and curses, but Jim did not stop for these.
+Dizzied with his effort, enveloped in thick darkness, and the wind which
+preceded the approaching shower blowing a fierce gale, he was obliged to
+stop a moment to make sure that he was walking in the right direction.
+He saw the lights of the village, and, finding the road, managed to keep
+on it until he reached the horse, that had become uneasy under the
+premonitory tumult of the storm. Lifting Benedict into the wagon as if
+he had been a child, he wrapped him warmly, and put the boy in behind
+him, to kneel and see that his father did not fall out. Then he turned
+the horse around, and started toward Number Nine. The horse knew the
+road, and was furnished with keener vision than the man who drove him.
+Jim was aware of this, and letting the reins lie loose upon his back,
+the animal struck into a long, swinging trot, in prospect of home and
+another "pail iv oats."
+
+They had not gone a mile when the gathering tempest came down upon them.
+It rained in torrents, the lightning illuminated the whole region again
+and again, and the thunder cracked, and boomed, and rolled off among the
+woods and hills, as if the day of doom had come.
+
+The war of the elements harmonized strangely with the weird fancies of
+the weak man who sat at Jim's side. He rode in perfect silence for
+miles. At last the wind went down, and the rain settled to a steady
+fall.
+
+"They were pretty angry about my going," said he, feebly.
+
+"Yes," said Jim, "they behaved purty car'less, but I'm too many for
+'em."
+
+"Does Father Abraham know I'm coming?" inquired Benedict. "Does he
+expect me to-night?"
+
+"Yes," responded Jim, "an' he'd 'a' sent afore, but he's jest wore out
+with company. He's a mighty good-natered man, an' I tell 'im they take
+the advantage of 'im. But I've posted 'im 'bout ye, and ye're all
+right."
+
+"Is it very far to the gulf?" inquired Benedict.
+
+"Yes, it's a good deal of a drive, but when ye git there, ye can jest
+lay right down in the boat, an' go to sleep. I'll wake ye up, ye know,
+when we run in."
+
+The miles slid behind into the darkness, and, at last, the rain
+subsiding somewhat, Jim stopped, partly to rest his smoking horse, and
+partly to feed his half-famished companions. Benedict ate mechanically
+the food that Jim fished out of the basket with a careful hand, and the
+boy ate as only boys can eat. Jim himself was hungry, and nearly
+finished what they left.
+
+At two o'clock in the morning, they descried Mike Conlin's light, and in
+ten minutes the reeking horse and the drenched inmates of the wagon
+drove up to the door. Mike was waiting to receive them.
+
+"Mike, this is my particular friend, Benedict. Take 'im in, an' dry 'im.
+An' this is 'is boy. Toast 'im both sides--brown."
+
+A large, pleasant fire was blazing on Mike's humble hearth, and with
+sundry cheerful remarks he placed his guests before it, relieving them
+of their soaked wrappings. Then he went to the stable, and fed and
+groomed his horse, and returned eagerly, to chat with Jim, who sat
+steaming before the fire, as if he had just been lifted from a hot bath.
+
+"What place is this, Jim?" said Mr. Benedict.
+
+"This is the half-way house," responded that personage, without looking
+up.
+
+"Why, this is purgatory, isn't it?" inquired Benedict.
+
+"Yes, Mike is a Catholic, an' all his folks; an' he's got to stay here a
+good while, an' he's jest settled down an' gone to housekeepin'."
+
+"Is it far to the gulf, now?"
+
+"Twenty mile, and the road is rougher nor a--"
+
+"'Ah, it's no twinty mile," responded Mike, "an' the road is jist
+lovely--jist lovely; an' afore ye start I'm goin' to give ye a drap that
+'ll make ye think so."
+
+They sat a whole hour before the fire, and then Mike mixed the draught
+he had promised to the poor patient. It was not a heavy one, but, for
+the time, it lifted the man so far out of his weakness that he could
+sleep, and the moment his brain felt the stimulus, he dropped into a
+slumber so profound that when the time of departure came he could not be
+awakened. As there was no time to be lost, a bed was procured from a
+spare chamber, with pillows; the wagon was brought to the door, and the
+man was carried out as unconscious as if he were in his last slumber,
+and tenderly put to bed in the wagon. Jim declined the dram that Mike
+urged upon him, for he had need of all his wits, and slowly walked the
+horse away on the road to his boat. If Benedict had been wide awake and
+well, he could not have traveled the road safely faster than a walk; and
+the sleep, and the bed which it rendered necessary, became the happiest
+accidents of the journey.
+
+For two long hours the horse plodded along the stony and uneven road,
+and then the light began to redden in the east, and Jim could see the
+road sufficiently to increase his speed with safety. It was not until
+long after the sun had risen that Benedict awoke, and found himself too
+weak to rise. Jim gave him more food, answered his anxious inquiries in
+his own way, and managed to keep him upon his bed, from which he
+constantly tried to rise in response to his wandering impulses. It was
+nearly noon when they found themselves at the river; and the
+preparations for embarkation were quickly made. The horse was tied and
+fed, the wagon unfastened, and the whole establishment was left for Mike
+to reclaim, according to the arrangement that Jim had made with him.
+
+The woodsman saw that his patient would not be able to sit, and so felt
+himself compelled to take along the bed. Arranging this with the pillows
+in the bow of his boat, and placing Benedict upon it, with his boy at
+his feet, he shoved off, and started up the stream.
+
+After running along against the current for a mile, Benedict having
+quietly rested meantime, looked up and said weakly:
+
+"Jim, is this the gulf?"
+
+"Yes," responded Jim, cheerfully. "This is the gulf, and a purty place
+'tis too. I've seed a sight o' worser places nor this."
+
+"It's very beautiful," responded Benedict. "We must be getting pretty
+near."
+
+"It's not very fur now," said Jim.
+
+The poor, wandering mind was trying to realize the heavenly scenes that
+it believed were about to burst upon its vision. The quiet, sunlit
+water, the trees still bare but bourgeoning, the songs of birds, the
+blue sky across which fleecy clouds were peacefully floating, the
+breezes that kissed his fevered cheek, the fragrance of the bordering
+evergreens, and the electric air that entered his lungs so long
+accustomed to the poisonous fetor of his cell, were well calculated to
+foster his delusion, and to fill his soul with a peace to which it had
+long been a stranger. An exquisite languor stole upon him, and under the
+pressure of his long fatigue, his eyelids fell, and he dropped into a
+quiet slumber.
+
+When the boy saw that his father was asleep, he crept back to Jim and
+said:
+
+"Mr. Fenton, I don't think it's right for you to tell papa such lies."
+
+"Call me Jim. The Doctor called me 'Mr. Fenton,' and it 'most killed
+me."
+
+"Well, Jim."
+
+"Now, that sounds like it. You jest look a here, my boy. Your pa ain't
+livin' in this world now, an' what's true to him is a lie to us, an'
+what's true to us is a lie to him. I jest go into his world and say
+what's true whar he lives. Isn't that right?"
+
+This vein of casuistry was new to the boy, and he was staggered.
+
+"When your pa gits well agin, an' here's hopin,' Jim Fenton an' he will
+be together in their brains, ye know, and then they won't be talkin'
+like a couple of jay-birds, and I won't lie to him no more nor I would
+to you."
+
+The lad's troubled mind was satisfied, and he crept back to his father's
+feet, where he lay until he discovered Turk, whining and wagging his
+tail in front of the little hillock that was crowned by Jim's cabin.
+
+The long, hard, weird journey was at an end. The boat came up broadside
+to the shore, and Jim leaped out, and showered as many caresses upon his
+dog as he received from the faithful brute.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN WHICH SEVENOAKS EXPERIENCES A GREAT COMMOTION, AND COMES TO THE
+CONCLUSION THAT BENEDICT HAS MET WITH FOUL PLAY.
+
+
+Thomas Buffum and his family slept late on Sunday morning, and the
+operating forces of the establishment lingered in their beds. When, at
+last, the latter rose and opened the doors of the dormitories, the
+escape of Benedict was detected. Mr. Buffum was summoned at once, and
+hastened across the street in his shirt-sleeves, which, by the way, was
+about as far toward full dress as he ever went when the weather did not
+compel him to wear a coat. Buffum examined the inner door and saw that
+it had been forced by a tremendous exercise of muscular power. He
+remembered the loss of the key, and knew that some one had assisted in
+the operation.
+
+"Where's that boy?" wheezed the keeper.
+
+An attendant rushed to the room where the boy usually slept, and came
+back with the report that the bed had not been occupied. Then there was
+a search outside for tracks, but the rain had obliterated them all. The
+keeper was in despair. He did not believe that Benedict could have
+survived the storm of the night, and he did not doubt that the boy had
+undertaken to hide his father somewhere.
+
+"Go out, all of you, all round, and find 'em," hoarsely whispered Mr.
+Buffum, "and bring 'em back, and say nothing about it."
+
+The men, including several of the more reliable paupers, divided
+themselves into little squads, and departed without breakfast, in order
+to get back before the farmers should drive by on their way to church.
+The orchards, the woods, the thickets--all possible covers--were
+searched, and searched, of course, in vain. One by one the parties
+returned to report that they could not find the slightest sign of the
+fugitives.
+
+Mr. Buffum, who had not a question that the little boy had planned and
+executed the escape, assisted by the paroxysmal strength of his insane
+father, felt that he was seriously compromised. The flight and undoubted
+death of old Tilden were too fresh in the public mind to permit this new
+reflection upon his faithfulness and efficiency as a public guardian to
+pass without a popular tumult. He had but just assumed the charge of the
+establishment for another year, and he knew that Robert Belcher would be
+seriously offended, for more reasons than the public knew, or than that
+person would be willing to confess. He had never in his life been in
+more serious trouble. He hardly tasted his breakfast, and was too crusty
+and cross to be safely addressed by any member of his family. Personally
+he was not in a condition to range the fields, and when he had received
+the reports of the parties who had made the search, he felt that he had
+a job to undertake too serious for his single handling.
+
+In the meantime, Mr. Belcher had risen at his leisure, in blissful
+unconsciousness of the calamities that had befallen his _protege_. He
+owned a pew in every church in Sevenoaks, and boasted that he had no
+preferences. Once every Sunday he went to one of these churches; and
+there was a fine flutter throughout the building whenever he and his
+family appeared. He felt that the building had received a special honor
+from his visit; but if he was not guided by his preferences, he
+certainly was by his animosities. If for three or four Sabbaths in
+succession he honored a single church by his presence, it was usually to
+pay off a grudge against some minister or member of another flock. He
+delighted to excite the suspicion that he had at last become attached to
+one clergyman, and that the other churches were in danger of being
+forsaken by him. It would be painful to paint the popular weakness and
+the ministerial jealousy--painful to describe the lack of Christian
+dignity--with which these demonstrations of worldly caprice and
+arrogance, were watched by pastor and flock.
+
+After the town meeting and the demonstration of the Rev. Solomon Snow,
+it was not expected that Mr. Belcher would visit the church of the
+latter for some months. During the first Sabbath after this event, there
+was gloom in that clergyman's congregation; for Mr. Belcher, in his
+routine, should have illuminated their public services by his presence,
+but he did not appear.
+
+"This comes," bitterly complained one of the deacons, "of a minister's
+meddling with public affairs."
+
+But during the week following, Mr. Belcher had had a satisfactory
+interview with Mr. Snow, and on the morning of the flight of Benedict he
+drove in the carriage with his family up to the door of that gentleman's
+church, and gratified the congregation and its reverend head by walking
+up the broad aisle, and, with his richly dressed flock, taking his old
+seat.
+
+As he looked around upon the humbler parishioners, he seemed to say, by
+his patronizing smile: "Mr. Snow and the great proprietor are at peace.
+Make yourselves easy, and enjoy your sunshine while it lasts."
+
+Mr. Buffum never went to church. He had a theory that it was necessary
+for him to remain in charge of his establishment, and that he was doing
+a good thing by sending his servants and dependents. When, therefore, he
+entered Mr. Snow's church on the Sunday morning which found Mr. Belcher
+comfortably seated there, and stumped up the broad aisle in his
+shirt-sleeves, the amazement of the minister and the congregation may be
+imagined. If he had been one of his own insane paupers _en deshabille_
+he could not have excited more astonishment or more consternation.
+
+Mr. Snow stopped in the middle of a stanza of the first hymn, as if the
+words had dried upon his tongue. Every thing seemed to stop. Of this,
+however, Mr. Buffum was ignorant. He had no sense of the proprieties of
+the house, and was intent only on reaching Mr. Belcher's pew.
+
+Bending to his patron's ear, he whispered a few words, received a few
+words in return, and then retired. The proprietor's face was red with
+rage and mortification, but he tried to appear unconcerned, and the
+services went on to their conclusion. Boys who sat near the windows
+stretched their necks to see whether smoke was issuing from the
+poor-house; and it is to be feared that the ministrations of the morning
+were not particularly edifying to the congregation at large. Even Mr.
+Snow lost his place in his sermon more frequently than usual. When the
+meeting was dismissed, a hundred heads came together in chattering
+surmise, and when they walked into the streets, the report of Benedict's
+escape with his little boy met them. They understood, too, why Buffum
+had come to Mr. Belcher with his trouble. He was Mr. Belcher's man, and
+Mr. Belcher had publicly assumed responsibility for him.
+
+No more meetings were held in any of the churches of Sevenoaks that day.
+The ministers came to perform the services of the afternoon, and,
+finding their pews empty, went home. A reward of one hundred dollars,
+offered by Mr. Belcher to any one who would find Benedict and his boy,
+"and return them in safety to the home provided for them by the town,"
+was a sufficient apology, without the motives of curiosity and humanity
+and the excitement of a search in the fields and woods, for a universal
+relinquishment of Sunday habits, and the pouring out of the whole
+population on an expedition of discovery.
+
+Sevenoaks and its whole vicinity presented a strange aspect that
+afternoon. There had slept in the hearts of the people a pleasant and
+sympathetic memory of Mr. Benedict. They had seen him struggling,
+dreaming, hopeful, yet always disappointed, dropping lower and lower
+into poverty, and, at last, under accumulated trials, deprived of his
+reason. They knew but little of his relations to Mr. Belcher, but they
+had a strong suspicion that he had been badly treated by the
+proprietor, and that it had been in the power of the latter to save him
+from wreck. So, when it became known that he had escaped with his boy
+from the poor-house, and that both had been exposed to the storm of the
+previous night, they all--men and boys--covered the fields, and filled
+the woods for miles around, in a search so minute that hardly a rod of
+cover was left unexplored.
+
+It was a strange excitement which stirred the women at home, as well as
+the men afield. Nothing was thought of but the fugitives and the
+pursuit.
+
+Robert Belcher, in the character of principal citizen, was riding back
+and forth behind his gray trotters, and stimulating the search in every
+quarter. Poor Miss Butterworth sat at her window, making indiscriminate
+inquiries of every passenger, or going about from house to house,
+working off her nervous anxiety in meaningless activities.
+
+As the various squads became tired by their long and unsuccessful
+search, they went to the poor-house to report, and, before sunset, the
+hill was covered by hundreds of weary and excited men. Some were sure
+they had discovered traces of the fugitives. Others expressed the
+conviction that they had thrown themselves into a well. One man, who did
+not love Mr. Belcher, and had heard the stories of his ill-treatment of
+Benedict, breathed the suspicion that both he and his boy had been
+foully dealt with by one who had an interest in getting them out of the
+way.
+
+It was a marvel to see how quickly this suspicion took wing. It seemed
+to be the most rational theory of the event. It went from mouth to mouth
+and ear to ear, as the wind breathes among the leaves of a forest; but
+there were reasons in every man's mind, or instincts in his nature, that
+withheld the word "murder" from the ear of Mr. Belcher. As soon as the
+suspicion became general, the aspect of every incident of the flight
+changed. Then they saw, apparently for the first time, that a man
+weakened by disease and long confinement, and never muscular at his
+best, could not have forced the inner door of Benedict's cell. Then they
+connected Mr. Belcher's behavior during the day with the affair, and,
+though they said nothing at the time, they thought of his ostentatious
+anxiety, his evident perturbation when Mr. Buffum announced to him the
+escape, his offer of the reward for Benedict's discovery, and his
+excited personal appearance among them. He acted like a guilty man--a
+man who was trying to blind them, and divert suspicion from himself.
+
+To the great horror of Mr. Buffum, his establishment was thoroughly
+inspected and ransacked, and, as one after another left the hill for his
+home, he went with indignation and shame in his heart, and curses on his
+lips. Even if Benedict and his innocent boy had been murdered, murder
+was not the only foul deed that had been committed on the hill. The
+poor-house itself was an embodied crime against humanity and against
+Christianity, for which the town of Sevenoaks at large was responsible,
+though it had been covered from their sight by Mr. Belcher and the
+keeper. It would have taken but a spark to kindle a conflagration. Such
+was the excitement that only a leader was needed to bring the tumult of
+a violent mob around the heads of the proprietor and his _protege_.
+
+Mr. Belcher was not a fool, and he detected, as he sat in his wagon
+talking with Buffum in a low tone, the change that had come over the
+excited groups around him. They looked at him as they talked, with a
+serious scrutiny to which he was unused. They no more addressed him with
+suggestions and inquiries. They shunned his neighborhood, and silently
+went off down the hill. He knew, as well as if they had been spoken,
+that there were not only suspicions against him, but indignation over
+the state of things that had been discovered in the establishment, for
+whose keeper he had voluntarily become responsible. Notwithstanding all
+his efforts to assist them in their search, he knew that in their hearts
+they charged him with Benedict's disappearance. At last he bade Buffum
+good-night, and went down the hill to his home.
+
+He had no badinage for Phipps during that drive, and no pleasant
+reveries in his library during that evening, for all the possibilities
+of the future passed through his mind in dark review. If Benedict had
+been murdered, who could have any interest in his death but himself? If
+he had died from exposure, his secrets would be safe, but the charge of
+his death would be brought to his door, as Miss Butterworth had already
+brought the responsibility for his insanity there. If he had got away
+alive, and should recover, or if his boy should get into hands that
+would ultimately claim for him his rights, then his prosperity would be
+interfered with. He did not wish to acknowledge to himself that he
+desired the poor man's death, but he was aware that in his death he
+found the most hopeful vision of the night. Angry with the public
+feeling that accused him of a crime of which he was not guilty, and
+guilty of a crime of which definitely the public knew little or nothing,
+there was no man in Sevenoaks so unhappy as he. He loved power and
+popularity. He had been happy in the thought that he controlled the
+town, and for the moment, at least, he knew the town had slipped
+disloyally out of his hands.
+
+An impromptu meeting of citizens was held that evening, at which Mr.
+Belcher did not assist. The clergymen were all present, and there seemed
+to be a general understanding that they had been ruled long enough in
+the interest and by the will of a single man. A subscription was raised
+for a large amount, and the sum offered to any one who would discover
+the fugitives.
+
+The next morning Mr. Belcher found the village quiet and very reticent,
+and having learned that a subscription had been raised without calling
+upon him, he laughingly expressed his determination to win the reward
+for himself.
+
+Then he turned his grays up the hill, had a long consultation with Mr.
+Buffum, who informed him of the fate of old Tilden, and started at a
+rapid pace toward Number Nine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IN WHICH JIM AND MIKE CONLIN PASS THROUGH A GREAT TRIAL AND COME OUT
+VICTORIOUS.
+
+
+"There, Turk, there they be!" said Jim to his dog, pointing to his
+passengers, as he stood caressing him, with one foot on the land and the
+other holding the boat to the shore. "There's the little chap that I've
+brung to play with ye, an' there's the sick man that we've got to take
+care on. Now don't ye make no row."
+
+Turk looked up into his master's face, then surveyed the new comers with
+a wag of his tail that had all the force of a welcome, and, when Harry
+leaped on shore, he smelt him over, licked his hand, and accepted him as
+a satisfactory companion.
+
+Jim towed his boat around a point into a little cove where there was a
+beach, and then drew it by a long, strong pull entirely out of the
+water. Lifting Benedict and carrying him to his own cabin, he left him
+in charge of Harry and the dog, while he went to make his bed in "Number
+Ten." His arrangements completed, he transferred his patient to the
+quarters prepared for him, where, upheld and pillowed by the sweetest
+couch that weary body ever rested upon, he sank into slumber.
+
+Harry and the dog became inseparable companions at once; and as it was
+necessary for Jim to watch with Benedict during the night, he had no
+difficulty in inducing the new friends to occupy his cabin together. The
+dog understood his responsibility and the lad accepted his protector;
+and when both had been bountifully fed they went to sleep side by side.
+
+It was, however, a troubled night at Number Ten. The patient's
+imagination had been excited, his frame had undergone a great fatigue,
+and the fresh air, no less than the rain that had found its way to his
+person through all his wrappings, on the previous night, had produced a
+powerful impression upon his nervous system. It was not strange that the
+morning found Jim unrefreshed, and his patient in a high, delirious
+fever.
+
+"Now's the time," said Jim to himself, "when a feller wants some sort o'
+religion or a woman; an' I hain't got nothin' but a big dog an' a little
+boy, an' no doctor nearer 'n forty mile."
+
+Poor Jim! He did not know that the shock to which he had subjected the
+enfeebled lunatic was precisely what was needed to rouse every effort of
+nature to effect a cure. He could not measure the influence of the
+subtle earth-currents that breathed over him. He did not know that there
+was better medicine in the pure air, in the balsamic bed, in the broad
+stillness, in the nourishing food and the careful nursing, than in all
+the drugs of the world. He did not know that, in order to reach the
+convalescence for which he so ardently longed, his patient must go down
+to the very basis of his life, and begin and build up anew; that in
+changing from an old and worn-out existence to a fresh and healthy one,
+there must come a point between the two conditions where there would
+seem to be no life, and where death would appear to be the only natural
+determination. He was burdened with his responsibility; and only the
+consciousness that his motives were pure and his patient no more
+hopeless in his hands than in those from which he had rescued him,
+strengthened his equanimity and sustained his courage.
+
+As the sun rose, Benedict fell into an uneasy slumber, and, while Jim
+watched his heavy breathing, the door was noiselessly opened, and Harry
+and the dog looked in. The hungry look of the lad summoned Jim to new
+duties, and leaving Harry to watch his father, he went off to prepare a
+breakfast for his family.
+
+All that day and all the following night Jim's time was so occupied in
+feeding the well and administering to the sick, that his own
+sleeplessness began to tell upon him. He who had been accustomed to the
+sleep of a healthy and active man began to look haggard, and to long for
+the assistance of a trusty hand. It was with a great, irrepressible
+shout of gratification that, at the close of the second day, he detected
+the form of Mike Conlin walking up the path by the side of the river,
+with a snug pack of provisions upon his back.
+
+Jim pushed his boat from the shore, and ferried Mike over to his cabin.
+The Irishman had reached the landing ten miles below to learn that the
+birch canoe in which he had expected to ascend the river had either been
+stolen or washed away. He was, therefore, obliged to take the old
+"tote-road" worn in former years by the lumbermen, at the side of the
+river, and to reach Jim's camp on foot. He was very tired, but the
+warmth of his welcome brought a merry twinkle to his eyes and the ready
+blarney to his tongue.
+
+"Och! divil a bit wud ye be glad to see Mike Conlin if ye knowed he'd
+come to arrist ye. Jim, ye're me prisoner. Ye've been stalin a pauper--a
+pair iv 'em, faith--an' ye must answer fur it wid yer life to owld
+Belcher. Come along wid me. None o' yer nonsinse, or I'll put a windy in
+ye."
+
+Jim eyed him with a smile, but he knew that no ordinary errand had
+brought Mike to him so quickly.
+
+"Old Belcher sent ye, did he?" said Jim.
+
+"Be gorry he did, an' I've come to git a reward. Now, if ye'll be
+dacint, ye shall have part of it."
+
+Although Jim saw that Mike was apparently in sport, he knew that the
+offer of a cash reward for his own betrayal was indeed a sore temptation
+to him.
+
+"Did ye tell 'im anything, Mike?" inquired Jim, solemnly.
+
+"Divil a bit."
+
+"An' ye knowed I'd lick ye if ye did. Ye knowed that, didn't ye?"
+
+"I knowed ye'd thry it faithful, an' if ye didn't do it there'd be
+niver a man to blame but Mike Conlin."
+
+Jim said no more, but went to work and got a bountiful supper for Mike.
+When he had finished, he took him over to Number Ten, where Harry and
+Turk were watching. Quietly opening the door of the cabin, he entered.
+Benedict lay on his bed, his rapt eyes looking up to the roof. His
+clean-cut, deathly face, his long, tangled locks, and the comfortable
+appointments about him, were all scanned by Mike, and, without saying a
+word, both turned and retired.
+
+"Mike," said Jim, as they retraced their way, "that man an' me was like
+brothers. I found 'im in the devil's own hole, an' any man as comes
+atween me an' him must look out fur 'imself forever arter. Jim Fenton's
+a good-natered man when he ain't riled, but he'd sooner fight nor eat
+when he is. Will ye help me, or won't ye?"
+
+Mike made no reply, but opened his pack and brought out a tumbler of
+jelly. "There, ye bloody blaggard, wouldn't ye be afther lickin' that
+now?" said he; and then, as he proceeded to unload the pack, his tongue
+ran on in comment. (A paper of crackers.) "Mash 'em all to smithereens
+now. Give it to 'em, Jim." (A roasted chicken.) "Pitch intil the
+rooster, Jim. Crack every bone in 'is body." (A bottle of brandy.)
+"Knock the head aff his shoolders and suck 'is blood." (A package of
+tea.) "Down with the tay! It's insulted ye, Jim." (A piece of maple
+sugar.) "Och! the owld, brown rascal! ye'll be afther doin Jim Fenton a
+bad turn, will ye? Ye'll be brakin 'is teeth fur 'im." Then followed a
+plate, cup and saucer, and these were supplemented by an old shirt and
+various knick-knacks that only a woman would remember in trying to
+provide for an invalid far away from the conveniences and comforts of
+home.
+
+Jim watched Mike with tearful eyes, which grew more and more loaded and
+luminous as the disgorgement of the contents of the pack progressed.
+
+"Mike, will ye forgive me?" said Jim, stretching out his hand. "I was
+afeared the money'd be too many for ye; but barrin' yer big foot an' the
+ugly nose that's on ye, ye're an angel."
+
+"Niver ye mind me fut," responded Mike. "Me inimies don't like it, an'
+they can give a good raison fur it; an' as fur me nose, it'll look
+worser nor it does now when Jim Fenton gets a crack at it."
+
+"Mike," said Jim, "ye hurt me. Here's my hand, an' honors are easy."
+
+Mike took the hand without more ado, and then sat back and told Jim all
+about it.
+
+"Ye see, afther ye wint away that night I jist lay down an' got a bit iv
+a shnooze, an' in the mornin' I shtarted for me owld horse. It was a big
+thramp to where ye lift him, and comin' back purty slow, I picked up a
+few shticks and put intil the wagin for me owld woman--pine knots an'
+the like o' that. I didn't git home much afore darruk, and me owld horse
+wasn't more nor in the shtable an' I 'atin' me supper, quiet like, afore
+Belcher druv up to me house wid his purty man on the seat wid 'im. An'
+says he: 'Mike Conlin! Mike Conlin! Come to the dour wid ye!' So I wint
+to the dour, an' he says, says he: 'Hev ye seen a crazy old feller wid a
+b'y?' An' says I: 'There's no crazy owld feller wid a b'y been by me
+house in the daytime. If they wint by at all at all, it was when me
+family was aslape.' Then he got out of his wagin and come in, and he
+looked 'round in all the corners careless like, and thin he said he
+wanted to go to the barrun. So we wint to the barrun, and he looked all
+about purty careful, and he says, says he: 'What ye been doin' wid the
+owld horse on a Sunday, Mike?' And says I to him, says I: 'Jist a
+pickin' up a few shticks for the owld woman.' An' when he come out he
+see the shticks in the wagin, and he says, says he: 'Mike, if ye'll find
+these fellers in the woods I'll give ye five hundred dollars.' And says
+I: 'Squire Belcher,' says I (for I knowed he had a wake shpot in 'im),
+'ye are richer nor a king, and Mike Conlin's no betther nor a pauper
+himself. Give me a hundred dollars,' says I, 'an' I'll thry it. And be
+gorry I've got it right there' (slapping his pocket.) 'Take along
+somethin' for 'em to ate,' says he, 'and faith I've done that same and
+found me min; an' now I'll stay wid ye fur a week an' 'arn me hundred
+dollars."
+
+The week that Mike promised Jim was like a lifetime. To have some one
+with him to share his vigils and his responsibility lifted a great
+burden from his shoulders. But the sick man grew weaker and weaker every
+day. He was assiduously nursed and literally fed with dainties; but the
+two men went about their duties with solemn faces, and talked almost in
+a whisper. Occasionally one of them went out for delicate game, and by
+alternate watches they managed to get sufficient sleep to recruit their
+exhausted energies.
+
+One morning, after Mike had been there four or five days, both stood by
+Benedict's bed, and felt that a crisis was upon him. A great uneasiness
+had possessed him for some hours, and then he had sunk away into a
+stupor or a sleep, they could not determine which.
+
+The two men watched him for a while, and then went out and sat down on a
+log in front of the cabin, and held a consultation.
+
+"Mike," said Jim, "somethin' must be did. We've did our best an' nothin'
+comes on't; an' Benedict is nearer Abram's bosom nor I ever meant he
+should come in my time. I ain't no doctor; you ain't no doctor. We've
+nussed 'im the best we knowed, but I guess he's a goner. It's too
+thunderin' bad, for I'd set my heart on puttin' 'im through."
+
+"Well," said Mike, "I've got me hundred dollars, and you'll git yer pay
+in the nixt wurruld."
+
+"I don't want no pay," responded Jim. "An' what do ye know about the
+next world, anyway?"
+
+"The praste says there is one," said Mike.
+
+"The priest be hanged! What does he know about it?"
+
+"That's his business," said Mike. "It's not for the like o' me to answer
+for the praste."
+
+"Well, I wish he was here, in Number Nine, an' we'd see what we could
+git out of 'im. I've got to the eend o' my rope."
+
+The truth was that Jim was becoming religious. When his own strong right
+hand failed in any enterprise, he always came to a point where the
+possibilities of a superior wisdom and power dawned upon him. He had
+never offered a prayer in his life, but the wish for some medium or
+instrument of intercession was strong within him. At last an idea struck
+him, and he turned to Mike and told him to go down to his old cabin, and
+stay there while he sent the boy back to him.
+
+When Harry came up, with an anxious face, Jim took him between his
+knees.
+
+"Little feller," said he, "I need comfortin'. It's a comfort to have ye
+here in my arms, an' I don't never want to have you go 'way from me.
+Your pa is awful sick, and perhaps he ain't never goin' to be no better.
+The rain and the ride, I'm afeared, was too many fur him; but I've did
+the best I could, and I meant well to both on ye, an' now I can't do no
+more, and there ain't no doctor here, an' there ain't no minister. Ye've
+allers been a pretty good boy, hain't ye? And don't ye s'pose ye can go
+out here a little ways behind a tree and pray? I'll hold on to the dog;
+an' it seems to me, if I was the Lord, I sh'd pay 'tention to what a
+little feller like you was sayin'. There ain't nobody here but you to do
+it now, ye know. I can nuss your pa and fix his vittles, and set up with
+'im nights, but I can't pray. I wasn't brung up to it. Now, if ye'll do
+this, I won't ax ye to do nothin' else."
+
+The boy was serious. He looked off with his great black eyes into the
+woods. He had said his prayers many times when he did not know that he
+wanted anything. Here was a great emergency, the most terrible that he
+had ever encountered. He, a child, was the only one who could pray for
+the life of his father; and the thought of the responsibility, though it
+was only dimly entertained, or imperfectly grasped, overwhelmed him. His
+eyes, that had been strained so long, filled with tears, and, bursting
+into a fit of uncontrollable weeping, he threw his arms around Jim's
+neck, where he sobbed away his sudden and almost hysterical passion.
+Then he gently disengaged himself and went away.
+
+Jim took off his cap, and holding fast his uneasy and inquiring dog,
+bowed his head as if he were in a church. Soon, among the songs of birds
+that were turning the morning into music, and the flash of waves that
+ran shoreward before the breeze, and the whisper of the wind among the
+evergreens, there came to his ear the voice of a child, pleading for his
+father's life. The tears dropped from his eyes and rolled down upon his
+beard. There was an element of romantic superstition in the man, of
+which his request was the offspring, and to which the sound of the
+child's voice appealed with irresistible power.
+
+When the lad reappeared and approached him, Jim said to himself: "Now,
+if that won't do it, ther' won't nothin'." Reaching out his arms to
+Harry, as he came up, he embraced him, and said:
+
+"My boy, ye've did the right thing. It's better nor all the nussin', an'
+ye must do that every mornin'--every mornin'; an' don't ye take no for
+an answer. Now jest go in with me an' see your pa."
+
+Jim would not have been greatly surprised to see the rude little room
+thronged with angels, but he was astonished, almost to fainting, to see
+Benedict open his eyes, look about him, then turn his questioning gaze
+upon him, and recognize him by a faint smile, so like the look of other
+days--so full of intelligence and peace, that the woodsman dropped upon
+his knees and hid his face in the blankets. He did not say a word, but
+leaving the boy passionately kissing his father, he ran to his own
+cabin.
+
+Seizing Mike by the shoulders, he shook him as if he intended to kill
+him.
+
+"Mike," said he, "by the great horned spoons, the little fellow has
+fetched 'im! Git yer pa'tridge-broth and yer brandy quicker'n'
+lightnin'. Don't talk to me no more 'bout yer priest; I've got a trick
+worth two o' that."
+
+Both men made haste back to Number Ten, where they found their patient
+quite able to take the nourishment and stimulant they brought, but still
+unable to speak. He soon sank into a refreshing slumber, and gave signs
+of mending throughout the day. The men who had watched him with such
+careful anxiety were full of hope, and gave vent to their lightened
+spirits in the chaffing which, in their careless hours, had become
+habitual with them. The boy and the dog rejoiced too in sympathy; and if
+there had been ten days of storm and gloom, ended by a brilliant
+outshining sun, the aspect of the camp could not have been more suddenly
+or happily changed.
+
+Two days and nights passed away, and then Mike declared that he must go
+home. The patient had spoken, and knew where he was. He only remembered
+the past as a dream. First, it was dark and long, and full of horror,
+but at length all had become bright; and Jim was made supremely happy to
+learn that he had had a vision of the glory toward which he had
+pretended to conduct him. Of the fatherly breast he had slept upon, of
+the golden streets through which he had walked, of the river of the
+water of life, of the shining ones with whom he had strolled in
+companionship, of the marvelous city which hath foundations, and the
+ineffable beauty of its Maker and Builder, he could not speak in full,
+until years had passed away; but out of this lovely dream he had emerged
+into natural life.
+
+"He's jest been down to the bottom, and started new." That was the sum
+and substance of Jim's philosophy, and it would be hard for science to
+supplant it.
+
+"Well," said Jim to Mike, "ye've be'n a godsend. Ye've did more good in
+a week nor ye'll do agin if ye live a thousand year. Ye've arned yer
+hundred dollars, and ye haven't found no pauper, and ye can tell 'em so.
+Paul Benedict ain't no pauper, an' he ain't no crazy man either."
+
+"Be gorry ye're right!" said Mike, who was greatly relieved at finding
+his report shaped for him in such a way that he would not be obliged to
+tell a falsehood.
+
+"An' thank yer old woman for me," said Jim, "an' tell her she's the
+queen of the huckleberry bushes, an' a jewel to the side o' the road she
+lives on."
+
+"Divil a bit will I do it," responded Mike. "She'll be so grand I can't
+live wid her."
+
+"An' tell her when ye've had yer quarrel," said Jim, "that there'll
+allers be a place for her in Number Ten."
+
+They chaffed one another until Mike passed out of sight among the trees;
+and Jim, notwithstanding his new society, felt lonelier, as he turned
+back to his cabin, than he had ever felt when there was no human being
+within twenty miles of him.
+
+The sun of early May had begun to shine brightly, the willows were
+growing green by the side of the river, the resinous buds were swelling
+daily, and making ready to burst into foliage, the birds returned one
+after another from their winter journeyings, and the thrushes filled the
+mornings and the evenings alike with their carolings. Spring had come to
+the woods again, with words of promise and wings of fulfillment, and
+Jim's heart was full of tender gladness. He had gratified his benevolent
+impulses, and he found upon his hands that which would tax their
+abounding energies. Life had never seemed to him so full of significance
+as it did then. He could see what he had been saving money for, and he
+felt that out of the service he was rendering to the poor and the
+distressed was growing a love for them that gave a new and almost divine
+flavor to his existence.
+
+Benedict mended slowly, but he mended daily, and gave promise of the
+permanent recovery of a healthy body and a sound mind. It was a happy
+day for Jim when, with Harry and the dog bounding before him, and
+Benedict leaning on his arm, he walked over to his old cabin, and all
+ate together at his own rude table. Jim never encouraged his friend's
+questions. He endeavored, by every practical way, to restrain his mind
+from wandering into the past, and encouraged him to associate his future
+with his present society and surroundings. The stronger the patient
+grew, the more willing he became to shut out the past, which, as memory
+sometimes--nay, too often--recalled it, was an unbroken history of
+trial, disappointment, grief, despair, and dreams of great darkness.
+
+There was one man whom he could never think of without a shudder, and
+with that man his possible outside life was inseparably associated. Mr.
+Belcher had always been able, by his command of money and his coarse and
+despotic will, to compel him into any course or transaction that he
+desired. His nature was offensive to Benedict to an extreme degree, and
+when in his presence, particularly when he entered it driven by
+necessity, he felt shorn of his own manhood. He felt him to be without
+conscience, without principle, without humanity, and was sure that it
+needed only to be known that the insane pauper had become a sound and
+healthy man to make him the subject of a series of persecutions or
+persuasions that would wrest from him the rights and values on which the
+great proprietor was foully battening. These rights and values he never
+intended to surrender, and until he was strong and independent enough to
+secure them to himself, he did not care to expose his gentler will to
+the machinations of the great scoundrel who had thrived upon his
+unrewarded genius.
+
+So, by degrees, he came to look upon the woods as his home. He was there
+at peace. His wife had faded out of the world, his life had been a fatal
+struggle with the grossest selfishness, he had come out of the shadows
+into a new life, and in that life's simple conditions, cared for by
+Jim's strong arms, and upheld by his manly and cheerful companionship,
+he intended to build safely the structure of his health, and to erect on
+the foundation of a useful experience a better life.
+
+In June, Jim did his planting, confined almost entirely to vegetables,
+as there was no mill near enough to grind his wheat and corn should he
+succeed in growing them. By the time the young plants were ready for
+dressing, Benedict could assist Jim for an hour every day; and when the
+autumn came, the invalid of Number Ten had become a heavier man than he
+ever was before. Through the disguise of rags, the sun-browned features,
+the heavy beard, and the generous and almost stalwart figure, his old
+and most intimate friends would have failed to recognize the delicate
+and attenuated man they had once known. Jim regarded him with great
+pride, and almost with awe. He delighted to hear him talk, for he was
+full of information and overflowing with suggestion.
+
+"Mr. Benedict," said Jim one day, after they had indulged in one of
+their long talks, "do ye s'pose ye can make a house?"
+
+"Anything."
+
+"A raal house, all ship-shape for a woman to live in?"
+
+"Anything."
+
+"With a little stoop, an' a bureau, an' some chairs, an' a frame, like,
+fur posies to run up on?"
+
+"Yes, Jim, and a thousand things you never thought of."
+
+Jim did not pursue the conversation further, but went down very deep
+into a brown study.
+
+During September, he was in the habit of receiving the visits of
+sportsmen, one of whom, a New York lawyer, who bore the name of Balfour,
+had come into the woods every year for several successive years. He
+became aware that his supplies were running low, and that not only was
+it necessary to lay in a winter's stock of flour and pork, but that his
+helpless _proteges_ should be supplied with clothing for the coming cold
+weather. Benedict had become quite able to take care of himself and his
+boy; so one day Jim, having furnished himself with a supply of money
+from his long accumulated hoard, went off down the river for a week's
+absence.
+
+He had a long consultation with Mike Conlin, who agreed to draw his
+lumber to the river whenever he should see fit to begin his enterprise.
+He had taken along a list of tools, furnished him by Benedict; and Mike
+carried him to Sevenoaks with the purpose of taking back whatever, in
+the way of stores, they should purchase. Jim was full of reminiscences
+of his night's drive, and pointed out to Mike all the localities of his
+great enterprise. Things had undergone a transformation about the
+poor-house, and Jim stopped and inquired tenderly for Tom Buffum, and
+learned that soon after the escape of Benedict the man had gone off in
+an apoplectic fit.
+
+"He was a pertickler friend o' mine," said Jim, smiling in the face of
+the new occupant, "an' I'm glad he went off so quick he didn't know
+where he was goin'. Left some rocks, didn't he?"
+
+The man having replied to Jim's tender solicitude, that he believed the
+family were sufficiently well provided for, the precious pair of
+sympathizers went off down the hill.
+
+Jim and Mike had a busy day in Sevenoaks, and at about eight o'clock in
+the evening, Miss Keziah Butterworth was surprised in her room by the
+announcement that there was a strange man down stairs who desired to see
+her. As she entered the parlor of the little house, she saw a tall man
+standing upright in the middle of the room, with his fur cap in his
+hand, and a huge roll of cloth under his arm.
+
+"Miss Butterworth, how fare ye?" said Jim.
+
+"I remember you," said Miss Butterworth, peering up into his face to
+read his features in the dim light. "You are Jim Fenton, whom I met last
+spring at the town meeting."
+
+"I knowed you'd remember me. Women allers does. Be'n purty chirk this
+summer?"
+
+"Very well, I thank you, sir," and Miss Butterworth dropped a courtesy,
+and then, sitting down, she pointed him to a chair.
+
+Jim laid his cap on the floor, placed his roll of cloth upright between
+his knees, and, pulling out his bandana handkerchief, wiped his
+perspiring face.
+
+"I've brung a little job fur ye," said Jim.
+
+"Oh, I can't do it," said Miss Butterworth at once. "I'm crowded to
+death with work. It's a hurrying time of year."
+
+"Yes, I knowed that, but this is a pertickler job."
+
+"Oh, they are all particular jobs," responded Miss Butterworth, shaking
+her head.
+
+"But this is a job fur pertickler folks."
+
+"Folks are all alike to me," said Miss Butterworth, sharply.
+
+"These clo'es," said Jim, "are fur a good man an' a little boy. They has
+nothin' but rags on 'em, an' won't have till ye make these clo'es. The
+man is a pertickler friend o' mine, an' the boy is a cute little chap,
+an' he can pray better nor any minister in Sevenoaks. If you knowed what
+I know, Miss Butterworth, I don't know but you'd do somethin' that you'd
+be ashamed of, an' I don't know but you'd do something that I sh'd be
+ashamed of. Strange things has happened, an' if ye want to know what
+they be, you must make these clo'es."
+
+Jim had aimed straight at one of the most powerful motives in human
+nature, and the woman began to relent, and to talk more as if it were
+possible for her to undertake the job.
+
+"It may be," said the tailoress, thinking, and scratching the top of her
+head with a hair-pin, "that I _can_ work it in; but I haven't the
+measure."
+
+"Well, now, let's see," said Jim, pondering. "Whar is they about such a
+man? Don't ye remember a man that used to be here by the name
+of--of--Benedict, wasn't it?--a feller about up to my ear--only fleshier
+nor he was? An' the little feller--well, he's bigger nor Benedict's
+boy--bigger, leastways, nor he was then."
+
+Miss Butterworth rose to her feet, went up to Jim, and looked him
+sharply in the eyes.
+
+"Can you tell me anything about Benedict and his boy?"
+
+"All that any feller knows I know," said Jim, "an' I've never telled
+nobody in Sevenoaks."
+
+"Jim Fenton, you needn't be afraid of me."
+
+"Oh, I ain't. I like ye better nor any woman I seen."
+
+"But you needn't be afraid to tell me," said Miss Butterworth, blushing.
+
+"An' will ye make the clo'es?"
+
+"Yes, I'll make the clothes, if I make them for nothing, and sit up
+nights to do it."
+
+"Give us your hand," said Jim, and he had a woman's hand in his own
+almost before he knew it, and his face grew crimson to the roots of his
+bushy hair.
+
+Miss Butterworth drew her chair up to his, and in a low tone he told her
+the whole long story as only he knew it, and only he could tell it.
+
+"I think you are the noblest man I ever saw," said Miss Butterworth,
+trembling with excitement.
+
+"Well, turn about's fa'r play, they say, an' I think you're the most
+genuine creetur' I ever seen," responded Jim. "All we want up in the
+woods now is a woman, an' I'd sooner have ye thar nor any other."
+
+"Poh! what a spoon you are!" said Miss Butterworth, tossing her head.
+
+"Then there's timber enough in me fur the puttiest kind of a buckle."
+
+"But you're a blockhead--a great, good blockhead. That's just what you
+are," said Miss Butterworth, laughing in spite of herself.
+
+"Well, ye can whittle any sort of a head out of a block," said Jim
+imperturbably.
+
+"Let's have done with joking," said the tailoress solemnly.
+
+"I hain't been jokin'," said Jim. "I'm in 'arnest. I been thinkin' o' ye
+ever sence the town-meetin'. I been kinder livin' on yer looks. I've
+dreamt about ye nights; an' when I've be'n helpin' Benedict, I took some
+o' my pay, thinkin' I was pleasin' ye. I couldn't help hopin'; an' now,
+when I come to ye so, an' tell ye jest how the land lays, ye git
+rampageous, or tell me I'm jokin'. 'Twon't be no joke if Jim Fenton goes
+away from this house feelin' that the only woman he ever seen as he
+thought was wuth a row o' pins feels herself better nor he is."
+
+Miss Butterworth cast down her eyes, and trotted her knees nervously.
+She felt that Jim was really in earnest--that he thoroughly respected
+her, and that behind his rough exterior there was as true a man as she
+had ever seen; but the life to which he would introduce her, the gossip
+to which she would be subjected by any intimate connection with him, and
+the uprooting of the active social life into which the routine of her
+daily labor led her, would be a great hardship. Then there was another
+consideration which weighed heavily with her. In her room were the
+memorials of an early affection and the disappointment of a life.
+
+"Mr. Fenton," she said, looking up--
+
+"Jest call me Jim."
+
+"Well, Jim--" and Miss Butterworth smiled through tearful eyes--"I must
+tell you that I was once engaged to be married."
+
+"Sho! You don't say!"
+
+"Yes, and I had everything ready."
+
+"Now, you don't tell me!"
+
+"Yes, and the only man I ever loved died--died a week before the day we
+had set."
+
+"It must have purty near finished ye off."
+
+"Yes, I should have been glad to die myself."
+
+"Well, now, Miss Butterworth, if ye s'pose that Jim Fenton wouldn't
+bring that man to life if he could, and go to your weddin' singin'
+hallelujer, you must think he's meaner nor a rat. But ye know he's dead,
+an' ye never can see him no more. He's a goner, an' ye're all alone, an'
+here's a man as'll take care on ye fur him; an' it does seem to me that
+if he was a reasonable man he'd feel obleeged for what I'm doin'."
+
+Miss Butterworth could not help smiling at Jim's earnestness and
+ingenuity, but his proposition was so sudden and strange, and she had so
+long ago given up any thought of marrying, that it was impossible for
+her to give him an answer then, unless she should give him the answer
+which he deprecated.
+
+"Jim," she said at last, "I believe you are a good man. I believe you
+are honorable, and that you mean well toward me; but we have been
+brought up very differently, and the life into which you wish to bring
+me would be very strange to me. I doubt whether I could be happy in it."
+
+Jim saw that it would not help him to press his suit further at that
+time, and recognized the reasonableness of her hesitation. He knew he
+was rough and unused to every sort of refinement, but he also knew that
+he was truthful, and honorable, and faithful; and with trust in his own
+motives and trust in Miss Butterworth's good sense and discretion, he
+withheld any further exhibition of his wish to settle the affair on the
+spot.
+
+"Well, Miss Butterworth," he said, rising, "ye know yer own business,
+but there'll be a house, an' a stoop, an' a bureau, an' a little ladder
+for flowers, an' Mike Conlin will draw the lumber, an' Benedict'll put
+it together, an' Jim Fenton'll be the busiest and happiest man in a
+hundred mile."
+
+As Jim rose, Miss Butterworth also stood up, and looked up into his
+face. Jim regarded her with tender admiration.
+
+"Do ye know I take to little things wonderful, if they're only alive?"
+said he. "There's Benedict's little boy! I feel 'im fur hours arter I've
+had 'im in my arms, jest because he's alive an' little. An' I don't
+know--I--I vow, I guess I better go away. Can you git the clo'es made in
+two days, so I can take 'em home with me? Can't ye put 'em out round?
+I'll pay ye, ye know."
+
+Miss Butterworth thought she could, and on that promise Jim remained in
+Sevenoaks.
+
+How he got out of the house he did not remember, but he went away very
+much exalted. What he did during those two days it did not matter to
+him, so long as he could walk over to Miss Butterworth's each night, and
+watch her light from his cover in the trees.
+
+Before the tailoress closed her eyes in sleep that night her brisk and
+ready shears had cut the cloth for the two suits at a venture, and in
+the morning the work was parceled among her benevolent friends, as a
+work of charity whose objects were not to be mentioned.
+
+When Jim called for the clothes, they were done, and there was no money
+to be paid for the labor. The statement of the fact embarrassed Jim more
+than anything that had occurred in his interviews with the tailoress.
+
+"I sh'll pay ye some time, even if so be that nothin' happens," said he;
+"an' if so be that somethin' does happen, it'll be squar' any way. I
+don't want no man that I do fur to be beholden to workin' women for
+their clo'es."
+
+Jim took the big bundle under his left arm, and, extending his right
+hand, he took Miss Butterworth's, and said: "Good-bye, little woman; I
+sh'll see ye agin, an' here's hopin'. Don't hurt yerself, and think as
+well of me as ye can. I hate to go away an' leave every thing loose
+like, but I s'pose I must. Yes, I don't like to go away so"--and Jim
+shook his head tenderly--"an' arter I go ye mustn't kick a stone on the
+road or scare a bird in the trees, for fear it'll be the heart that Jim
+Fenton leaves behind him."
+
+Jim departed, and Miss Butterworth went up to her room, her eyes moist
+with the effect of the unconscious poetry of his closing utterance.
+
+It was still early in the evening when Jim reached the hotel, and he had
+hardly mounted the steps when the stage drove up, and Mr. Balfour,
+encumbered with a gun, all sorts of fishing-tackle and a lad of twelve
+years, leaped out. He was on his annual vacation; and with all the
+hilarity and heartiness of a boy let loose from school greeted Jim,
+whose irresistibly broad smile was full of welcome.
+
+It was quickly arranged that Jim and Mike should go on that night with
+their load of stores; that Mr. Balfour and his boy should follow in the
+morning with a team to be hired for the occasion, and that Jim, reaching
+home first, should return and meet his guests with his boat at the
+landing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+IN WHICH MR. BELCHER VISITS NEW YORK, AND BECOMES THE PROPRIETOR OF
+"PALGRAVE'S FOLLY."
+
+
+The shadow of a mystery hung over Sevenoaks for many months. Handbills
+advertising the fugitives were posted in all directions throughout the
+country, but nothing came of them but rumors. The newspapers, far and
+near, told the story, but it resulted in nothing save such an airing of
+the Sevenoaks poor-house, and the county establishment connected with
+the same, that Tom Buffum, who had lived for several years on the
+border-land of apoplexy, passed suddenly over, and went so far that he
+never returned to meet the official inquiry into his administration. The
+Augean stables were cleansed by the Hercules of public opinion; and with
+the satisfied conscience and restored self-complacency procured by this
+act, the people at last settled down upon the conviction that Benedict
+and his boy had shared the fate of old Tilden--that they had lost
+themselves in the distant forest, and met their death alike beyond help
+and discovery.
+
+Mr. Belcher found himself without influence in the adjustment of the new
+administration. Sevenoaks turned the cold shoulder to him. Nobody went
+to him with the reports that connected him with the flight and fate of
+the crazed inventor, yet he knew, through instincts which men of his
+nature often possess in a remarkable degree, that he was deeply blamed
+for the causes of Benedict's misfortunes. It has already been hinted
+that at first he was suspected of knowing guiltily more about the
+disappearance of the fugitives than he would be willing to tell, but
+there were only a few minds in which the suspicion was long permitted to
+linger. When the first excitement passed away and men began to think,
+it was impossible for them to imagine motives sufficiently powerful to
+induce the rich proprietor to pursue a lunatic pauper to his death.
+
+Mr. Belcher never had encouraged the neighborly approaches which, in an
+emergency like this, might have given him comfort and companionship.
+Recognizing no equals in Sevenoaks--measuring his own social position by
+the depth of his purse and the reach of his power--he had been in the
+habit of dispensing his society as largess to the humble villagers. To
+recognize a man upon the street, and speak to him in a familiar way, was
+to him like the opening of his purse and throwing the surprise of a
+dollar into a beggar's hat. His courtesies were charities; his
+politeness was a boon; he tossed his jokes into a crowd of dirty
+employes as he would toss a handful of silver coin. Up to this time he
+had been sufficient unto himself. By money, by petty revenges, by
+personal assumption, he had managed to retain his throne for a long
+decade; and when he found his power partly ignored and partly defied,
+and learned that his personal courtesies were not accepted at their old
+value, he not only began to feel lonesome, but he grew angry. He held
+hot discussions with his image in the mirror night after night, in his
+lonely library, where a certain measure which had once seemed a distant
+possibility took shape more and more as a purpose. In some way he would
+revenge himself upon the people of the town. Even at a personal
+sacrifice, he would pay them off for their slight upon him; and he knew
+there was no way in which he could so effectually do this as by leaving
+them. He had dreamed many times, as he rapidly accumulated his wealth,
+of arriving at a point where he could treat his splendid home as a
+summer resort, and take up his residence in the great city among those
+of his own kind. He had an uneasy desire for the splendors of city life,
+yet his interests had always held him to Sevenoaks, and he had contented
+himself there simply because he had his own way, and was accounted "the
+principal citizen." His village splendors were without competition. His
+will was law. His self-complacency, fed and flourishing in his country
+home, had taken the place of society; but this had ceased to be
+all-sufficient, even before the change occurred in the atmosphere around
+him.
+
+It was six months after the reader's first introduction to him that,
+showily dressed as he always was, he took his place before his mirror
+for a conversation with the striking-looking person whom he saw
+reflected there.
+
+"Robert Belcher, Esquire," said he, "are you played out? Who says played
+out? Did you address that question to me, sir? Am I the subject of that
+insulting remark? Do you dare to beard the lion in his den? Withdraw the
+dagger that you have aimed at my breast, or I will not hold myself
+responsible for the consequences. Played out, with a million dollars in
+your pocket? Played out, with wealth pouring in in mighty waves? Whose
+name is Norval still? Whose are these Grampian Hills? In yonder silent
+heavens the stars still shine, printing on boundless space the words of
+golden promise. Will you leave Sevenoaks? Will you go to yonder
+metropolis, and there reap, in honor and pleasure, the rewards of your
+enterprise? Will you leave Sevenoaks howling in pain? Will you leave
+these scurvy ministers to whine for their salaries and whine to empty
+air? Ye fresh fields and pastures new, I yield, I go, I reside! I spurn
+the dust of Sevenoaks from my feet. I hail the glories of the distant
+mart. I make my bow to you, sir. You ask my pardon? It is well! Go!"
+
+The next morning, after a long examination of his affairs, in conference
+with his confidential agent, and the announcement to Mrs. Belcher that
+he was about to start for New York on business, Phipps took him and his
+trunk on a drive of twenty miles, to the northern terminus of a railroad
+line which, with his connections, would bear him to the city of his
+hopes.
+
+It is astonishing how much room a richly dressed snob can occupy in a
+railway car without receiving a request to occupy less, or endangering
+the welfare of his arrogant eyes. Mr. Belcher occupied always two seats,
+and usually four. It was pitiful to see feeble women look at his
+abounding supply, then look at him, and then pass on. It was pitiful to
+see humbly dressed men do the same. It was pitiful to see gentlemen put
+themselves to inconvenience rather than dispute with him his right to
+all the space he could cover with his luggage and his feet. Mr. Belcher
+watched all these exhibitions with supreme satisfaction. They were a
+tribute to his commanding personal appearance. Even the conductors
+recognized the manner of man with whom they had to deal, and shunned
+him. He not only got the worth of his money in his ride, but the worth
+of the money of several other people.
+
+Arriving at New York, he went directly to the Astor, then the leading
+hotel of the city. The clerk not only knew the kind of man who stood
+before him recording his name, but he knew him; and while he assigned to
+his betters, men and women, rooms at the top of the house, Mr. Belcher
+secured, without difficulty, a parlor and bedroom on the second floor.
+The arrogant snob was not only at a premium on the railway train, but at
+the hotel. When he swaggered into the dining-room, the head waiter took
+his measure instinctively, and placed him as a figure-head at the top of
+the hall, where he easily won to himself the most careful and obsequious
+service, the choicest viands, and a large degree of quiet observation
+from the curious guests. In the office, waiters ran for him, hackmen
+took off their hats to him, his cards were delivered with great
+promptitude, and even the courtly principal deigned to inquire whether
+he found everything to his mind. In short, Mr. Belcher seemed to find
+that his name was as distinctly "Norval" in New York as in Sevenoaks,
+and that his "Grampian Hills" were movable eminences that stood around
+and smiled upon him wherever he went.
+
+Retiring to his room to enjoy in quiet his morning cigar and to look
+over the papers, his eye was attracted, among the "personals," to an
+item which read as follows:
+
+"Col. Robert Belcher, the rich and well-known manufacturer of Sevenoaks,
+and the maker of the celebrated Belcher rifle, has arrived in town, and
+occupies a suite of apartments at the Astor."
+
+His title, he was aware, had been manufactured, in order to give the
+highest significance to the item, by the enterprising reporter, but it
+pleased him. The reporter, associating his name with fire-arms, had
+chosen a military title, in accordance with the custom which makes
+"commodores" of enterprising landsmen who build and manage lines of
+marine transportation and travel, and "bosses" of men who control
+election gangs, employed to dig the dirty channels to political success.
+
+He read it again and again, and smoked, and walked to his glass, and
+coddled himself with complacent fancies. He felt that all doors opened
+themselves widely to the man who had money, and the skill to carry it in
+his own magnificent way. In the midst of pleasant thoughts, there came a
+rap at the door, and he received from the waiter's little salver the
+card of his factor, "Mr. Benjamin Talbot." Mr. Talbot had read the
+"personal" which had so attracted and delighted himself, and had made
+haste to pay his respects to the principal from whose productions he was
+coining a fortune.
+
+Mr. Talbot was the man of all others whom Mr. Belcher desired to see;
+so, with a glance at the card, he told the waiter promptly to show the
+gentleman up.
+
+No man in the world understood Mr. Belcher better than the quick-witted
+and obsequious factor. He had been in the habit, during the ten years in
+which he had handled Mr. Belcher's goods, of devoting his whole time to
+the proprietor while that person was on his stated visits to the city.
+He took him to his club to dine; he introduced him to congenial spirits;
+he went to the theater with him; he went with him to grosser resorts,
+which do not need to be named in these pages; he drove with him to the
+races; he took him to lunch at suburban hotels, frequented by fast men
+who drove fast horses; he ministered to every coarse taste and vulgar
+desire possessed by the man whose nature and graceless caprices he so
+carefully studied. He did all this at his own expense, and at the same
+time he kept his principal out of the clutches of gamblers and sharpers.
+It was for his interest to be of actual use to the man whose desires he
+aimed to gratify, and so to guard and shadow him that no deep harm would
+come to him. It was for his interest to keep Mr. Belcher to himself,
+while he gave him the gratifications that a coarse man living in the
+country so naturally seeks among the opportunities and excitements of
+the city.
+
+There was one thing, however, that Mr. Talbot had never done. He had
+never taken Mr. Belcher to his home. Mrs. Talbot did not wish to see
+him, and Mr. Talbot did not wish to have her see him. He knew that Mr.
+Belcher, after his business was completed, wanted something besides a
+quiet dinner with women and children. His leanings were not toward
+virtue, but toward safe and half-reputable vice; and exactly what he
+wanted consistent with his safety as a business man, Mr. Talbot wished
+to give him. To nurse his good-will, to make himself useful, and, as far
+as possible, essential to the proprietor, and to keep him sound and make
+him last, was Mr. Talbot's study and his most determined ambition.
+
+Mr. Belcher was seated in a huge arm chair, with his back to the door
+and his feet in another chair, when the second rap came, and Mr. Talbot,
+with a radiant smile, entered.
+
+"Well, Toll, my boy," said the proprietor, keeping his seat without
+turning, and extending his left hand. "How are you? Glad to see you.
+Come round to pay your respects to the Colonel, eh? How's business, and
+how's your folks?"
+
+Mr. Talbot was accustomed to this style of greeting from his principal,
+and, responding heartily to it and the inquiries accompanying it, he
+took a seat. With hat and cane in hand he sat on his little chair,
+showing his handsome teeth, twirling his light mustache, and looking at
+the proprietor with his keen gray eyes, his whole attitude and
+physiognomy expressing the words as plainly as if he had spoken them:
+"I'm your man; now, what are you up to?"
+
+"Toll," said Mr. Belcher deliberately, "I'm going to surprise you."
+
+"You usually do," responded the factor, laughing.
+
+"I vow, I guess that's true! You fellows, without any blood, are apt to
+get waked up when the old boys come in from the country. Toll, lock the
+door."
+
+Mr. Talbot locked the door and resumed his seat.
+
+"Sevenoaks be hanged!" said Mr. Belcher.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"It's a one-horse town."
+
+"Certainly. Still, I have been under the impression that you owned the
+horse."
+
+"Yes, I know, but the horse is played out."
+
+"Hasn't he been a pretty good horse, and earned you all he cost you?"
+
+"Well, I'm tired with living where there is so much infernal babble, and
+meddling with other people's business. If I sneeze, the people think
+there's been an earthquake; and when I whistle, they call it a
+hurricane."
+
+"But you're the king of the roost," said Talbot.
+
+"Yes; but a man gets tired being king of the roost, and longs for some
+rooster to fight."
+
+Mr. Talbot saw the point toward which Mr. Belcher was drifting, and
+prepared himself for it. He had measured his chances for losing his
+business, and when, at last, his principal came out with the frank
+statement, that he had made up his mind to come to New York to live, he
+was all ready with his overjoyed "No!" and with his smooth little hand
+to bestow upon Mr. Belcher's heavy fist the expression of his gladness
+and his congratulations.
+
+"Good thing, isn't it, Toll?"
+
+"Excellent!"
+
+"And you'll stand by me, Toll?"
+
+"Of course I will; but we can't do just the old things, you know. We
+must be highly respectable citizens, and keep ourselves straight."
+
+"Don't you undertake to teach your grandmother how to suck eggs,"
+responded the proprietor with a huge laugh, in which the factor joined.
+Then he added, thoughtfully: "I haven't said a word to the woman about
+it, and she may make a fuss, but she knows me pretty well; and there'll
+be the biggest kind of a row in the town; but the fact is, Toll, I'm at
+the end of my rope there. I'm making money hand over hand, and I've
+nothing to show for it. I've spent about everything I can up there, and
+nobody sees it. I might just as well be buried; and if a fellow can't
+show what he gets, what's the use of having it? I haven't but one life
+to live, and I'm going to spread, and I'm going to do it right here in
+New York; and if I don't make some of your nabobs open their eyes, my
+name isn't Robert Belcher."
+
+Mr. Belcher had exposed motives in this little speech that he had not
+even alluded to in his addresses to his image in the mirror. Talbot saw
+that something had gone wrong in the town, that he was playing off a bit
+of revenge, and, above all, that the vulgar desire for display was more
+prominent among Mr. Belcher's motives for removal than that person
+suspected.
+
+"I have a few affairs to attend to," said Mr. Talbot, rising, "but after
+twelve o'clock I will be at your service while you remain in the city.
+We shall have no difficulty in finding a house to suit you, I am sure,
+and you can get everything done in the matter of furniture at the
+shortest notice. I will hunt houses with you for a week, if you wish."
+
+"Well, by-by, Toll," said Mr. Belcher, giving him his left hand again.
+"I'll be 'round at twelve."
+
+Mr. Talbot went out, but instead of going to his office, went straight
+home, and surprised Mrs. Talbot by his sudden reappearance.
+
+"What on earth!"--said she, looking up from a bit of embroidery on
+which she was dawdling away her morning.
+
+"Kate, who do you suppose is coming to New York to live?"
+
+"The Great Mogul."
+
+"Yes, the Great Mogul--otherwise, Colonel Robert Belcher."
+
+"Heaven help us!" exclaimed the lady.
+
+"Well, and what's to be done?"
+
+"Oh, my! my! my! my!" exclaimed Mrs. Talbot, her possessive pronoun
+stumbling and fainting away without reaching its object. "_Must_ we have
+that bear in the house? Does it pay?"
+
+"Yes, Kate, it pays," said Mr. Talbot.
+
+"Well, I suppose that settles it."
+
+The factor and his wife were very quick to comprehend the truth that a
+principal out of town, and away from his wife and family, was a very
+different person to deal with from one in the town and in the occupation
+of a grand establishment, with his dependents. They saw that they must
+make themselves essential to him in the establishment of his social
+position, and that they must introduce him and his wife to their
+friends. Moreover, they had heard good reports of Mrs. Belcher, and had
+the impression that she would be either an inoffensive or a valuable
+acquisition to their circle of friends.
+
+There was nothing to do, therefore, but to make a dinner-party in Mr.
+Belcher's honor. The guests were carefully selected, and Mrs. Talbot
+laid aside her embroidery and wrote her invitations, while Mr. Talbot
+made his next errand at the office of the leading real estate broker,
+with whom he concluded a private arrangement to share in the commission
+of any sale that might be made to the customer whom he proposed to bring
+to him in the course of the day. Half an-hour before twelve, he was in
+his own office, and in the thirty minutes that lay between his arrival
+and the visit of the proprietor, he had arranged his affairs for any
+absence that would be necessary.
+
+When Mr. Belcher came in, looking from side to side, with the air of a
+man who owned all he saw, even the clerks, who respectfully bowed to him
+as he passed, he found Mr. Talbot waiting; also, a bunch of the
+costliest cigars.
+
+"I remembered your weakness, you see," said Talbot.
+
+"Toll, you're a jewel," said Mr. Belcher, drawing out one of the
+fragrant rolls and lighting it.
+
+"Now, before we go a step," said Talbot, "you must agree to come to my
+house to-morrow night to dinner, and meet some of my friends. When you
+come to New York, you'll want to know somebody."
+
+"Toll, I tell you you're a jewel."
+
+"And you'll come?"
+
+"Well, you know I'm not rigged exactly for that sort of thing, and,
+faith, I'm not up to it, but I suppose all a man has to do is to put on
+a stiff upper lip, and take it as it comes."
+
+"I'll risk you anywhere."
+
+"All right! I'll be there."
+
+"Six o'clock, sharp;--and now let's go and find a broker. I know the
+best one in the city, and I'll show you the inside of more fine houses
+before night than you have ever seen."
+
+Talbot took the proprietor's arm and led him to a carriage in waiting.
+Then he took him to Pine street, and introduced him, in the most
+deferential manner, to the broker who held half of New York at his
+disposal, and knew the city as he knew his alphabet.
+
+The broker took the pair of house-hunters to a private room, and
+unfolded a map of the city before them. On this he traced, with a
+well-kept finger-nail, a series of lines,--like those fanciful
+isothermal definitions that embrace the regions of perennial summer on
+the range of the Northern Pacific Railroad,--within which social
+respectability made its home. Within certain avenues and certain
+streets, he explained that it was a respectable thing to live. Outside
+of these arbitrary boundaries, nobody who made any pretense to
+respectability should buy a house. The remainder of the city, was for
+the vulgar--craftsmen, petty shopkeepers, salaried men, and the
+shabby-genteel. He insisted that a wealthy man, making an entrance upon
+New York life, should be careful to locate himself somewhere upon the
+charmed territory which he defined. He felt in duty bound to say this to
+Mr. Belcher, as he was a stranger; and Mr. Belcher was, of course,
+grateful for the information.
+
+Then he armed Mr. Talbot, as Mr. Belcher's city friend and helper, with
+a bundle of permits, with which they set off upon their quest.
+
+They visited a dozen houses in the course of the afternoon, carefully
+chosen in their succession by Mr. Talbot, who was as sure of Mr.
+Belcher's tastes as he was of his own. One street was too quiet, one was
+too dark; one house was too small, and one was too tame; one house had
+no stable, another had too small a stable. At last, they came out upon
+Fifth avenue, and drove up to a double front, with a stable almost as
+ample and as richly appointed as the house itself. It had been built,
+and occupied for a year or two, by an exploded millionaire, and was an
+elephant upon the hands of his creditors. Robert Belcher was happy at
+once. The marvelous mirrors, the plate glass, the gilded cornices, the
+grand staircase, the glittering chandeliers, the evidences of lavish
+expenditure in every fixture, and in all the finish, excited him like
+wine.
+
+"Now you talk!" said he to the smiling factor; and as he went to the
+window, and saw the life of the street, rolling by in costly carriages,
+or sweeping the sidewalks with shining silks and mellow velvets, he felt
+that he was at home. Here he could see and be seen. Here his splendors
+could be advertised. Here he could find an expression for his wealth, by
+the side of which his establishment at Sevenoaks seemed too mean to be
+thought of without humiliation and disgust. Here was a house that
+gratified his sensuous nature through and through, and appealed
+irresistibly to his egregious vanity. He did not know that the grand and
+gaudy establishment bore the name of "Palgrave's Folly," and, probably,
+it would have made no difference with him if he had. It suited him, and
+would, in his hands, become Belcher's Glory.
+
+The sum demanded for the place, though very large, did not cover its
+original cost, and in this fact Mr. Belcher took great comfort. To enjoy
+fifty thousand dollars, which somebody else had made, was a charming
+consideration with him, and one that did much to reconcile him to an
+expenditure far beyond his original purpose.
+
+When he had finished his examination of the house, he returned to his
+hotel, as business hours were past, and he could make no further headway
+that day in his negotiations. The more he thought of the house, the more
+uneasy he became. Somebody might have seen him looking at it, and so
+reached the broker first, and snatched it from his grasp. He did not
+know that it had been in the market for two years, waiting for just such
+a man as himself.
+
+Talbot was fully aware of the state of Mr. Belcher's mind, and knew that
+if he did not reach him early the next morning, the proprietor would
+arrive at the broker's before him. Accordingly, when Mr. Belcher
+finished his breakfast that morning, he found his factor waiting for
+him, with the information that the broker would not be in his office for
+an hour and a-half, and that there was time to look further, if further
+search were desirable. He hoped that Mr. Belcher would not be in a
+hurry, or take any step that he would ultimately regret. Mr. Belcher
+assured him that he knew what he wanted when he saw it, and had no fears
+about the matter, except that somebody might anticipate him.
+
+"You have determined, then, to buy the house at the price?" said Talbot.
+
+"Yes; I shall just shut my eyes and swallow the whole thing."
+
+"Would you like to get it cheaper?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"Then, perhaps you had better leave the talking to me," said Talbot.
+"These fellows all have a price that they ask, and a smaller one that
+they will take."
+
+"That's one of the tricks, eh?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then go ahead."
+
+They had a long talk about business, and then Talbot went out, and,
+after an extended interview with the broker, sent a messenger for Mr.
+Belcher. When that gentleman came in, he found that Talbot had bought
+the house for ten thousand dollars less than the price originally
+demanded. Mr. Belcher deposited a handsome sum as a guaranty of his good
+faith, and ordered the papers to be made out at once.
+
+After their return to the hotel, Mr. Talbot sat down to a table, and
+went through a long calculation.
+
+"It will cost you, Mr. Belcher," said the factor, deliberately, "at
+least twenty-five thousand dollars to furnish that house
+satisfactorily."
+
+Mr. Belcher gave a long whistle.
+
+"At least twenty-five thousand dollars, and I doubt whether you get off
+for less than thirty thousand."
+
+"Well, I'm in for it, and I'm going through," said Mr. Belcher.
+
+"Very well," responded Talbot, "now let's go to the best furnisher we
+can find. I happen to know the man who is at the top of the style, and I
+suppose the best thing--as you and I don't know much about the
+matter--is to let him have his own way, and hold him responsible for the
+results."
+
+"All right," said Belcher; "show me the man."
+
+They found the arbiter of style in his counting-room. Mr. Talbot
+approached him first, and held a long private conversation with him. Mr.
+Belcher, in his self-complacency, waited, fancying that Talbot was
+representing his own importance and the desirableness of so rare a
+customer, and endeavoring to secure reasonable prices on a large bill.
+In reality, he was arranging to get a commission out of the job for
+himself.
+
+If it be objected to Mr. Talbot's mode of giving assistance to his
+country friends, that it savored of mercenariness, amounting to
+villainy, it is to be said, on his behalf, that he was simply practicing
+the morals that Mr. Belcher had taught him. Mr. Belcher had not failed
+to debauch or debase the moral standard of every man over whom he had
+any direct influence. If Talbot had practiced his little game upon any
+other man, Mr. Belcher would have patted his shoulder and told him he
+was a "jewel." So much of Mr. Belcher's wealth had been won by sharp and
+more than doubtful practices, that that wealth itself stood before the
+world as a premium on rascality, and thus became, far and wide, a
+demoralizing influence upon the feverishly ambitious and the young.
+Besides, Mr. Talbot quieted what little conscience he had in the matter
+by the consideration that his commissions were drawn, not from Mr.
+Belcher, but from the profits which others would make out of him, and
+the further consideration that it was no more than right for him to get
+the money back that he had spent, and was spending, for his principal's
+benefit.
+
+Mr. Belcher was introduced, and the arbiter of style conversed learnedly
+of Tuscan, Pompeiian, Elizabethan, Louis Quatorze, buhl, _marqueterie_,
+&.c., &c., till the head of the proprietor, to whom all these words were
+strangers, and all his talk Greek, was thrown into a hopeless muddle.
+
+Mr. Belcher listened to him as long as he could do so with patience, and
+then brought him to a conclusion by a slap upon his knee.
+
+"Come, now!" said he, "you understand your business, and I understand
+mine. If you were to take up guns and gutta-percha, I could probably
+talk your head off, but I don't know anything about these things. What I
+want is something right. Do the whole thing up brown. Do you understand
+that?"
+
+The arbiter of style smiled pityingly, and admitted that he comprehended
+his customer.
+
+It was at last arranged that the latter should make a study of the
+house, and furnish it according to his best ability, within a specified
+sum of expenditure and a specified period of time; and then the
+proprietor took his leave.
+
+Mr. Belcher had accomplished a large amount of business within two days,
+but he had worked according to his habit. The dinner party remained, and
+this was the most difficult business that he had ever undertaken, yet he
+had a strong desire to see how it was done. He learned quickly what he
+undertook, and he had already "discounted," to use his own word, a
+certain amount of mortification connected with the affair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+MRS. TALBOT GIVES HER LITTLE DINNER PARTY, AND MR. BELCHER MAKES AN
+EXCEEDINGLY PLEASANT ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+
+Mrs. Talbot had a very dear friend. She had been her dear friend ever
+since the two had roomed together at boarding-school. Sometimes she had
+questioned whether in reality Mrs. Helen Dillingham was her dear friend,
+or whether the particular friendship was all on the other side; but Mrs.
+Dillingham had somehow so manipulated the relation as always to appear
+to be the favored party. When, therefore, the dinner was determined
+upon, Mrs. Dillingham's card of invitation was the first one addressed.
+She was a widow and alone. She complemented Mr. Belcher, who was also
+alone.
+
+Exactly the position Mrs. Dillingham occupied in society, it would be
+hard to define. Everybody invited her, and yet everybody, without any
+definite reason, considered her a little "off color." She was beautiful,
+she was accomplished, she talked wonderfully well, she was _au fait_ in
+art, literature, society. She was superficially religious, and she
+formed the theater of the struggle of a black angel and a white one,
+neither of whom ever won a complete victory, or held whatever advantage
+he gained for any considerable length of time. Nothing could be finer
+than Mrs. Dillingham in her fine moods; nothing coarser when the black
+angel was enjoying one of his victories, and the white angel had sat
+down to breathe. It was the impression given in these latter moments
+that fixed upon her the suspicion that she was not quite what she ought
+to be. The flowers bloomed where she walked, but there was dust on them.
+The cup she handed to her friends was pure to the eye, but it had a
+muddy taste. She was a whole woman in sympathy, power, beauty, and
+sensibility, and yet one felt that somewhere within she harbored a
+devil--a refined devil in its play, a gross one when it had the woman at
+unresisting advantage.
+
+Next came the Schoonmakers, an elderly gentleman and his wife, who dined
+out a great deal, and lived on the ancient respectability of their
+family. They talked much about "the old New Yorkers," and of the inroads
+and devastations of the parvenu. They were thoroughly posted on old
+family estates and mansions, the intermarriages of the Dutch
+aristocracy, and the subject of heraldry. Mr. Schoonmaker made a hobby
+of old Bibles, and Mrs. Schoonmaker of old lace. The two hobbies
+combined gave a mingled air of erudition and gentility to the pair that
+was quite impressive, while their unquestionably good descent was a
+source of social capital to all of humbler origin who were fortunate
+enough to draw them to their tables.
+
+Next came the Tunbridges. Mr. Tunbridge was the president of a bank, and
+Mrs. Tunbridge was the president of Mr. Tunbridge--a large, billowy
+woman, who "brought him his money," according to the speech of the town.
+Mr. Tunbridge had managed his trust with great skill, and was glad at
+any time, and at any social sacrifice, to be brought into contact with
+men who carried large deposit accounts.
+
+Next in order were Mr. and Mrs. Cavendish. Mr. Cavendish was a lawyer--a
+hook-nosed, hawk-eyed man, who knew a little more about everything than
+anybody else did, and was celebrated in the city for successfully
+managing the most intractable cases, and securing the most princely
+fees. If a rich criminal were brought into straits before the law, he
+always sent for Mr. Cavendish. If the unprincipled managers of a great
+corporation wished to ascertain just how closely before the wind they
+could sail without being swamped, they consulted Mr. Cavendish. He was
+everywhere accounted a great lawyer by those who estimated acuteness to
+be above astuteness, strategy better than an open and fair fight, and
+success more to be desired than justice.
+
+It would weary the reader to go through with a description of Mrs.
+Talbot's dinner party in advance. They were such people as Mr. and Mrs.
+Talbot naturally drew around them. The minister was invited, partly as a
+matter of course, and partly to occupy Mr. Schoonmaker on the subject of
+Bibles. The doctor was invited because Mrs. Talbot was fond of him, and
+because he always took "such an interest in the family."
+
+When Mr. Belcher arrived at Talbot's beautiful but quiet house, the
+guests had all assembled, and, clothing their faces with that veneer of
+smile which hungry people who are about to dine at another man's expense
+feel compelled to wear in the presence of their host, they were chatting
+over the news of the day.
+
+It is probable that the great city was never the scene of a personal
+introduction that gave more quiet amusement to an assemblage of guests
+than that of the presentation of Mr. Belcher. That gentleman's first
+impression as he entered the room was that Talbot had invited a company
+of clergymen to meet him. His look of surprise as he took a survey of
+the assembly was that of a knave who found himself for the first time in
+good company; but as he looked from the gentlemen to the ladies, in
+their gay costumes and display of costly jewelry, he concluded that they
+could not be the wives of clergymen. The quiet self-possession of the
+group, and the consciousness that he was not _en regle_ in the matter of
+dress, oppressed him; but he was bold, and he knew that they knew that
+he was worth a million of dollars.
+
+The "stiff upper lip" was placed at its stiffest in the midst of his
+florid expanse of face, as, standing still, in the center of the room,
+he greeted one after another to whom he was presented, in a way
+peculiarly his own.
+
+He had never been in the habit of lifting his hat, in courtesy to man or
+woman. Even the touching its brim with his fingers had degenerated into
+a motion that began with a flourish toward it, and ended with a suave
+extension of his palm toward the object of his obeisance. On this
+occasion he quite forgot that he had left his hat in the hall, and so,
+assuming that it still crowned his head, he went through with eight or
+ten hand flourishes that changed the dignified and self-contained
+assembly into a merry company of men and women, who would not have been
+willing to tell Mr. Belcher what they were laughing at.
+
+The last person to whom he was introduced was Mrs. Dillingham, the lady
+who stood nearest to him--so near that the hand flourish seemed absurd
+even to him, and half died in the impulse to make it. Mrs. Dillingham,
+in her black and her magnificent diamonds, went down almost upon the
+floor in the demonstration of her admiring and reverential courtesy, and
+pronounced the name of Mr. Belcher with a musical distinctness of
+enunciation that arrested and charmed the ears of all who heard it. It
+seemed as if every letter were swimming in a vehicle compounded of
+respect, veneration, and affection. The consonants flowed shining and
+smooth like gold-fish through a globe of crystal illuminated by the sun.
+The tone in which she spoke the name seemed to rob it of all vulgar
+associations, and to inaugurate it as the key-note of a fine social
+symphony.
+
+Mr. Belcher was charmed, and placed by it at his ease. It wrought upon
+him and upon the company the effect which she designed. She was
+determined he should not only show at his best, but that he should be
+conscious of the favor she had won for him.
+
+Before dinner was announced, Mr. Talbot made a little speech to his
+guests, ostensibly to give them the good news that Mr. Belcher had
+purchased the mansion, built and formerly occupied by Mr. Palgrave, but
+really to explain that he had caught him in town on business, and taken
+him at the disadvantage of distance from his evening dress, though, of
+course, he did not say it in such and so many words. The speech was
+unnecessary. Mrs. Dillingham had told the whole story in her own
+unapproachable way.
+
+When dinner was announced Mr. Belcher was requested to lead Mrs. Talbot
+to her seat, and was himself placed between his hostess and Mrs.
+Dillingham. Mrs. Talbot was a stately, beautiful woman, and bore off her
+elegant toilet like a queen. In her walk into the dining-room, her
+shapely arm rested upon the proprietor's, and her brilliant eyes looked
+into his with an expression that flattered to its utmost all the fool
+there was in him. There was a little rivalry between the "dear friends;"
+but the unrestricted widow was more than a match for the circumspect and
+guarded wife, and Mr. Belcher was delighted to find himself seated side
+by side with the former.
+
+He had not talked five minutes with Mrs. Dillingham before he knew her.
+The exquisite varnish that covered her person and her manners not only
+revealed, but made beautiful, the gnarled and stained wood beneath.
+Underneath the polish he saw the element that allied her with himself.
+There was no subject upon which she could not lead or accompany him with
+brilliant talk, yet he felt that there was a coarse under-current of
+sympathy by which he could lead her, or she could lead him--where?
+
+The courtly manners of the table, the orderly courses that came and went
+as if the domestic administration were some automatic machine, and the
+exquisite appointments of the board, all exercised a powerful moral
+influence upon him; and though they did not wholly suppress him, they
+toned him down, so that he really talked well. He had a fund of small
+wit and drollery that was sufficient, at least, for a single dinner;
+and, as it was quaint and fresh, the guests were not only amused, but
+pleased. In the first place, much could be forgiven to the man who owned
+Palgrave's Folly. No small consideration was due to one who, in a quiet
+country town, had accumulated a million dollars. A person who had the
+power to reward attention with grand dinners and splendid receptions was
+certainly not a person to be treated lightly.
+
+Mr. Tunbridge undertook to talk finance with him, but retired under the
+laugh raised by Mr. Belcher's statement that he had been so busy making
+money that he had had no time to consider questions of finance. Mr.
+Schoonmaker and the minister were deep in Bibles, and on referring some
+question to Mr. Belcher concerning "The Breeches Bible," received in
+reply the statement that he had never arrived any nearer a Breeches
+Bible than a pocket handkerchief with the Lord's Prayer on it. Mr.
+Cavendish simply sat and criticised the rest. He had never seen anybody
+yet who knew anything about finance. The Chamber of Commerce was a set
+of old women, the Secretary of the Treasury was an ass, and the Chairman
+of the Committee of Ways and Means was a person he should be unwilling
+to take as an office-boy. As for him, he never could see the fun of old
+Bibles. If he wanted a Bible he would get a new one.
+
+Each man had his shot, until the conversation fell from the general to
+the particular, and at last Mr. Belcher found himself engaged in the
+most delightful conversation of his life with the facile woman at his
+side. He could make no approach to her from any quarter without being
+promptly met. She was quite as much at home, and quite as graceful, in
+bandying badinage as in expatiating upon the loveliness of country life
+and the ritual of her church.
+
+Mr. Talbot did not urge wine upon his principal, for he saw that he was
+excited and off his guard; and when, at length, the banquet came to its
+conclusion, the proprietor declined to remain with the gentlemen and the
+supplementary wine and cigars, but took coffee in the drawing-room with
+the ladies. Mrs. Dillingham's eye was on Mrs. Talbot, and when she saw
+her start toward them from her seat, she took Mr. Belcher's arm for a
+tour among the artistic treasures of the house.
+
+"My dear Kate," said Mrs. Dillingham, "give me the privilege of showing
+Mr. Belcher some of your beautiful things."
+
+"Oh, certainly," responded Mrs. Talbot, her face flushing, "and don't
+forget yourself, my child, among the rest."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham pressed Mr. Belcher's arm, an action which said: "Oh,
+the jealous creature!"
+
+They went from painting to painting, and sculpture to sculpture, and
+then, over a cabinet of bric-a-brac, she quietly led the conversation to
+Mr. Belcher's prospective occupation of the Palgrave mansion. She had
+nothing in the world to do. She should be so happy to assist poor Mrs.
+Belcher in the adjustment of her housekeeping. It would be a real
+pleasure to her to arrange the furniture, and do anything to help that
+quiet country lady in inaugurating the splendors of city life. She knew
+all the caterers, all the confectioners, all the modistes, all the city
+ways, and all the people worth knowing. She was willing to become, for
+Mrs. Belcher's sake, city-directory, commissionaire, adviser, director,
+everything. She would take it as a great kindness if she could be
+permitted to make herself useful.
+
+All this was honey to the proprietor. How Mrs. Dillingham would shine in
+his splendid mansion! How she would illuminate his landau! How she would
+save his quiet wife, not to say himself, from the _gaucheries_ of which
+both would be guilty until the ways of the polite world could be
+learned! How delightful it would be to have a sympathetic friend whose
+intelligent and considerate advice would be always ready!
+
+When the gentlemen returned to the drawing-room, and disturbed the
+confidential _tete-a-tete_ of these new friends, Mrs. Dillingham
+declared it was time to go, and Mr. Belcher insisted on seeing her home
+in his own carriage.
+
+The dinner party broke up with universal hand-shakings. Mr. Belcher was
+congratulated on his magnificent purchase and prospects. They would all
+be happy to make Mrs. Belcher's acquaintance, and she really must lose
+no time in letting them know when she would be ready to receive
+visitors.
+
+Mr. Belcher saw Mrs. Dillingham home. He held her pretty hands at
+parting, as if he were an affectionate older brother who was about to
+sail on a voyage around the world. At last he hurriedly relinquished her
+to the man-servant who had answered her summons, then ran down the steps
+and drove to his hotel.
+
+Mounting to his rooms, he lit every burner in his parlor, and then
+surveyed himself in the mirror.
+
+"Where did she find it, old boy? Eh? Where did she find it? Was it the
+figure? Was it the face? Hang the swallow tails! Must you, sir, come to
+such a humiliation? How are the mighty fallen! The lion of Sevenoaks in
+the skin of an ass! But it must be. Ah! Mrs. Belcher--Mrs. Belcher--Mrs.
+Belcher! You are good, but you are lumpy. You were pretty once, but you
+are no Mrs. Dillingham. By the gods! Wouldn't she swim around my house
+like a queen! Far in azure depths of space, I behold a star! Its light
+shines for me. It doesn't? It must not? Who says that? Did you address
+that remark to me, sir? By the way, how do you think you got along? Did
+you make a fool of yourself, or did you make a fool of somebody? Honors
+are easy. Let Robert Belcher alone! Is Toll making money a little too
+fast? What do you think? Perhaps you will settle that question by and
+by. You will keep him while you can use him. Then Toll, my boy, you can
+drift. In the meantime, splendor! and in the meantime let Sevenoaks
+howl, and learn to let Robert Belcher alone."
+
+From these dizzy heights of elation Mr. Belcher descended to his bed and
+his heavy dreams, and the next morning found him whirling away at the
+rate of thirty miles an hour, but not northward. Whither was he going?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+WHICH TELLS HOW A LAWYER SPENT HIS VACATION IN CAMP, AND TOOK HOME A
+SPECIMEN OF GAME THAT HE HAD NEVER BEFORE FOUND IN THE WOODS.
+
+
+It was a bright moonlight night when Mike Conlin and Jim started off
+from Sevenoaks for home, leaving Mr. Balfour and his boy to follow. The
+old horse had a heavy load, and it was not until an hour past midnight
+that Mike's house was reached. There Jim made the new clothes,
+comprising a complete outfit for his boarders at Number Ten, into a
+convenient package, and swinging it over his shoulders, started for his
+distant cabin on foot. Mike, after resting himself and his horse, was to
+follow in the morning with the tools and stores, so as to arrive at the
+river at as early an hour as Mr. Balfour could complete the journey from
+Sevenoaks, with his lighter load and swifter horses.
+
+Jim Fenton, who had lain still for several days, and was full of his
+schemes for Mr. Balfour and his proteges in camp, and warm with his
+memories of Miss Butterworth, simply gloried in his moonlight tramp. The
+accumulated vitality of his days of idleness was quite enough to make
+all the fatigues before him light and pleasant. At nine o'clock the next
+morning he stood by the side of his boat again. The great stillness of
+the woods, responding in vivid color to the first kisses of the frost,
+half intoxicated him. No world-wide wanderer, returning after many years
+to the home of his childhood, could have felt more exulting gladness
+than he, as he shoved his boat from the bank and pushed up the shining
+stream in the face of the sun.
+
+Benedict and Harry had not been idle during his absence. A deer had
+been shot and dressed; trout had been caught and saved alive; a cave had
+been dug for the preservation of vegetables; and when Jim shouted, far
+down the stream, to announce his approach, there were three happy
+persons on shore, waiting to welcome him--Turk being the third, and
+apparently oblivious of the fact that he was not as much a human being
+as any of the party. Turk added the "tiger" to Harry's three cheers, and
+Jim was as glad as a boy when his boat touched the shore, and he
+received the affectionate greetings of the party.
+
+A choice meal was nearly in readiness for him, but not a mouthful would
+he taste until he had unfolded his treasures, and displayed to the
+astonished eyes of Mr. Benedict and the lad the comfortable clothing he
+had brought for them.
+
+"Take 'em to Number Ten and put 'em on," said Jim. "I'm a goin' to eat
+with big folks to-day, if clo'es can make 'em. Them's yer stockin's and
+them's yer boots, and them's yer indigoes and them's yer clo'es."
+
+Jim's idea of the word "indigoes" was, that it drew its meaning partly
+from the color of the articles designated, and partly from their office.
+They were blue undergoes--in other words, blue flannel shirts.
+
+Jim sat down and waited. He saw that, while Harry was hilarious over his
+good fortune, Mr. Benedict was very silent and humble. It was twenty
+minutes before Harry reappeared; and when he came bounding toward Jim,
+even Turk did not know him. Jim embraced him, and could not help feeling
+that he had acquired a certain amount of property in the lad.
+
+When Mr. Benedict came forth from the little cabin, and found Jim
+chaffing and petting his boy, he was much embarrassed. He could not
+speak, but walked directly past the pair, and went out upon the bank of
+the river, with his eyes averted.
+
+Jim comprehended it all. Leaving Harry, he went up to his guest, and
+placed his hand upon his shoulder. "Will ye furgive me, Mr. Benedict? I
+didn't go fur to make it hard fur ye."
+
+"Jim," said Mr. Benedict, struggling to retain his composure, "I can
+never repay your overwhelming kindness, and the fact oppresses me."
+
+"Well," said Jim, "I s'pose I don't make 'lowance enough fur the
+difference in folks. Ye think ye oughter pay fur this sort o' thing, an'
+I don't want no pay. I git comfort enough outen it, anyway."
+
+Benedict turned, took and warmly pressed Jim's hand, and then they went
+back to their dinner. After they had eaten, and Jim had sat down to his
+pipe, he told his guests that they were to have visitors that night--a
+man from the city and his little boy--and that they would spend a
+fortnight with them. The news alarmed Mr. Benedict, for his nerves were
+still weak, and it was a long time before he could be reconciled to the
+thought of intrusion upon his solitude; but Jim reassured him by his
+enthusiastic accounts of Mr. Balfour, and Harry was overjoyed with the
+thought of having a companion in the strange lad.
+
+"I thought I'd come home an' git ye ready," said Jim; "fur I knowed ye'd
+feel bad to meet a gentleman in yer old poor-house fixin's. Burn 'em or
+bury 'em as soon as I'm gone. I don't never want to see them things
+agin."
+
+Jim went off again down the river, and Mr. Benedict and Harry busied
+themselves in cleaning the camp, and preparing Number Ten for the
+reception of Mr. Balfour and his boy, having previously determined to
+take up their abode with Jim for the winter. The latter had a hard
+afternoon. He was tired with his night's tramp, and languid with loss of
+sleep. When he arrived at the landing he found Mr. Balfour waiting. He
+had passed Mike Conlin on the way, and even while they were talking the
+Irishman came in sight. After half-an-hour of busy labor, the goods and
+passengers were bestowed, Mike was paid for the transportation, and the
+closing journeys of the day were begun.
+
+When Jim had made half of the weary row up the river, he ran into a
+little cove to rest and wipe the perspiration from his forehead. Then he
+informed Mr. Balfour that he was not alone in the camp, and, in his own
+inimitable way, having first enjoined the strictest secrecy, he told the
+story of Mr. Benedict and his boy.
+
+"Benedict will hunt and fish with ye better nor I can," said he, "an'
+he's a better man nor I be any way; but I'm at yer sarvice, and ye shall
+have the best time in the woods that I can give ye."
+
+Then he enlarged upon the accomplishments of Benedict's boy.
+
+"He favors yer boy a little," said Jim, eyeing the lad closely. "Dress
+'em alike, and they wouldn't be a bad pair o' brothers."
+
+Jim did not recognize the germs of change that existed in his accidental
+remark, but he noticed that a shade of pain passed over the lawyer's
+face.
+
+"Where is the other little feller that ye used to brag over, Mr.
+Balfour?" inquired Jim.
+
+"He's gone, Jim; I lost him. He died a year ago."
+
+Jim had no words with which to meet intelligence of this character, so
+he did not try to utter any; but, after a minute of silence, he said:
+"That's what floors me. Them dies that's got everything, and them lives
+that's got nothin'--lives through thick and thin. It seems sort o'
+strange to me that the Lord runs everything so kind o' car'less like,
+when there ain't nobody to bring it to his mind."
+
+Mr. Balfour made no response, and Jim resumed his oars. But for the
+moon, it would have been quite dark when Number Nine was reached, but,
+once there, the fatigues of the journey were forgotten. It was Thede
+Balfour's first visit to the woods, and he was wild with excitement. Mr.
+Benedict and Harry gave the strangers a cordial greeting. The night was
+frosty and crisp, and Jim drew his boat out of the water, and permitted
+his stores to remain in it through the night. A hearty supper prepared
+them all for sleep, and Jim led his city friends to Number Ten, to enjoy
+their camp by themselves. A camp-fire, recently lighted, awaited them,
+and, with its flames illuminating the weird scenes around them, they
+went to sleep.
+
+The next day was Sunday. To the devoutly disposed, there is no silence
+that seems so deeply hallowed as that which pervades the forest on that
+holy day. No steamer plows the river; no screaming, rushing train
+profanes the stillness; the beasts that prowl, and the birds that fly,
+seem gentler than on other days; and the wilderness, with its pillars
+and arches, and aisles, becomes a sanctuary. Prayers that no ears can
+hear but those of the Eternal; psalms that win no responses except from
+the echoes; worship that rises from hearts unencumbered by care, and
+undistracted by pageantry and dress--all these are possible in the
+woods; and the great Being to whom the temples of the world are reared
+cannot have failed to find, in ten thousand instances, the purest
+offerings in lonely camps and cabins.
+
+They had a delightful and bountiful breakfast, and, at its close, they
+divided themselves naturally into a double group. The two boys and Turk
+went off by themselves to watch the living things around them, while the
+men remained together by the camp-fire.
+
+Mr. Balfour drew out a little pocket-Testament, and was soon absorbed in
+reading. Jim watched him, as a hungry dog watches a man at his meal, and
+at last, having grown more and more uneasy, he said:
+
+"Give us some o' that, Mr. Balfour."
+
+Mr. Balfour looked up and smiled, and then read to him the parable of
+the talents.
+
+"I don't know nothin' 'bout it," said Jim, at the conclusion, "but it
+seems to me the man was a little rough on the feller with one talent.
+'Twas a mighty small capital to start with, an' he didn't give 'im any
+chance to try it over; but what bothers me the most is about the man's
+trav'lin' into a fur country. They hadn't no chance to talk with 'im
+about it, and git his notions. It stan's to reason that the feller with
+one talent would think his master was stingy, and be riled over it."
+
+"You must remember, Jim, that all he needed was to ask for wisdom in
+order to receive it," said Mr. Benedict.
+
+"No; the man that traveled into a fur country stan's for the Almighty,
+and he'd got out o' the way. He'd jest gi'n these fellers his capital,
+and quit, and left 'em to go it alone. They couldn't go arter 'im, and
+he couldn't 'a' hearn a word they said. He did what he thought was all
+right, and didn't want to be bothered. I never think about prayin' till
+I git into a tight place. It stan's to reason that the Lord don't want
+people comin' to him to do things that they can do theirselves. I
+shouldn't pray for breath; I sh'd jest h'ist the winder. If I wanted a
+bucket o' water, I sh'd go for it. If a man's got common sense, and a
+pair o' hands, he hain't no business to be botherin' other folks till he
+gits into what he can't git out of. When he's squeezed, then in course
+he'll squeal. It seems to me that it makes a sort of a spooney of a man
+to be always askin' for what he can git if he tries. If the feller that
+only had one talent had brushed round, he could 'a' made a spec on it,
+an' had somethin' to show fur it, but he jest hid it. I don't stan' up
+for 'im. I think he was meaner nor pusly not to make the best on't, but
+he didn't need to pray for sense, for the man didn't want 'im to use no
+more nor his nateral stock, an' he knowed if he used that he'd be all
+right."
+
+"But we are told to pray, Jim," said Mr. Balfour, "and assured that it
+is pleasant to the Lord to receive our petitions. We are even told to
+pray for our daily bread."
+
+"Well, it can't mean jest that, fur the feller that don't work for't
+don't git it, an' he hadn't oughter git it. If he don't lift his hands,
+but jest sets with his mouth open, he gits mostly flies. The old birds,
+with a nest full o' howlin' young ones, might go on, I s'pose, pickin'
+up grasshoppers till the cows come home, an' feedin' 'em, but they
+don't. They jest poke 'em out o' the nest, an' larn 'em to fly an' pick
+up their own livin'; an' that's what makes birds on 'em. They pray
+mighty hard fur their daily bread, I tell ye, and the way the old birds
+answer is jest to poke 'em out, and let 'em slide. I don't see many
+prayin' folks, an' I don't see many folks any way; but I have a consait
+that a feller can pray so much an' do so little, that he won't be
+nobody. He'll jest grow weaker an' weaker all the time."
+
+"I don't see," said Mr. Balfour, laughing, and turning to Mr. Benedict,
+"but we've had the exposition of our Scripture."
+
+The former had always delighted to hear Jim talk, and never lost an
+opportunity to set him going; but he did not know that Jim's exposition
+of the parable had a personal motive. Mr. Benedict knew that it had, and
+was very serious over it. His nature was weak in many respects. His will
+was weak; he had no combativeness; he had a wish to lean. He had been
+baffled and buffeted in the world. He had gone down into the darkness,
+praying all the way; and now that he had come out of it, and had so
+little society; now that his young life was all behind him, and so few
+earthly hopes beckoned him on, he turned with a heart morbidly religious
+to what seemed to him the only source of comfort open to him. Jim had
+watched him with pain. He had seen him, from day to day, spending his
+hours alone, and felt that prayer formed almost the staple of his life.
+He had seen him willing to work, but knew that his heart was not in it.
+He was not willing to go back into the world, and assert his place among
+men. The poverty, disease, and disgrace of his former life dwelt in his
+memory, and he shrank from the conflicts and competitions which would be
+necessary to enable him to work out better results for himself.
+
+Jim thoroughly believed that Benedict was religiously diseased, and that
+he never could become a man again until he had ceased to live so
+exclusively in the spiritual world. He contrived all possible ways to
+keep him employed. He put responsibility upon him. He stimulated him
+with considerations of the welfare of Harry. He disturbed him in his
+retirement. He contrived fatigues that would induce sound sleep. To use
+his own language, he had tried to cure him of "loppin'," but with very
+unsatisfactory results.
+
+Benedict comprehended Jim's lesson, and it made an impression upon him;
+but to break himself of his habit of thought and life was as difficult
+as the breaking of morbid habits always is. He knew that he was a weak
+man, and saw that he had never fully developed that which was manliest
+within him. He saw plainly, too, that his prayers would not develop it,
+and that nothing but a faithful, bold, manly use of his powers could
+accomplish the result. He knew that he had a better brain, and a brain
+better furnished, than that of Robert Belcher, yet he had known to his
+sorrow, and well-nigh to his destruction, that Robert Belcher could wind
+him around his finger. Prayer had never saved him from this, and nothing
+could save him but a development of his own manhood. Was he too old for
+hope? Could he break away from the delights of his weakness, and grow
+into something stronger and better? Could he so change the attitude of
+his soul that it should cease to be exigent and receptive, and become a
+positive, self-poised, and active force? He sighed when these questions
+came to him, but he felt that Jim had helped him in many practical ways,
+and could help him still further.
+
+A stranger, looking upon the group, would have found it a curious and
+interesting study. Mr. Balfour was a tall, lithe man, with not a
+redundant ounce of flesh on him. He was as straight as an arrow, bore on
+his shoulders a fine head that gave evidence in its contour of equal
+benevolence and force, and was a practical, fearless, straightforward,
+true man. He enjoyed humor, and though he had a happy way of evoking it
+from others, possessed or exhibited very little himself. Jim was better
+than a theater to him. He spent so much of his time in the conflicts of
+his profession, that in his vacations he simply opened heart and mind
+to entertainment. A shrewd, frank, unsophisticated nature was a constant
+feast to him, and though he was a keen sportsman, the woods would have
+had few attractions without Jim.
+
+Mr. Benedict regarded him with profound respect, as a man who possessed
+the precise qualities which had been denied to himself--self-assertion,
+combativeness, strong will, and "push." Even through Benedict's ample
+beard, a good reader of the human face would have detected the weak
+chin, while admiring the splendid brow, silken curls, and handsome eyes
+above it. He was a thoroughly gentle man, and, curiously enough,
+attracted the interest of Mr. Balfour in consequence of his gentleness.
+The instinct of defense and protection to everything weak and dependent
+was strong within the lawyer; and Benedict affected him like a woman. It
+was easy for the two to become friends, and as Mr. Balfour grew familiar
+with the real excellences of his new acquaintance, with his intelligence
+in certain directions, and his wonderful mechanical ingenuity, he
+conceived just as high a degree of respect for him as he could entertain
+for one who was entirely unfurnished with those weapons with which the
+battles of life are fought.
+
+It was a great delight to Jim to see his two friends get along so well
+together, particularly as he had pressing employment on his hands, in
+preparing for the winter. So, after the first day, Benedict became Mr.
+Balfour's guide during the fortnight which he passed in the woods.
+
+The bright light of Monday morning was the signal for the beginning of
+their sport, and Thede, who had never thrown a fly, was awake at the
+first day-light; and before Jim had the breakfast of venison and cakes
+ready, he had strung his tackle and leaned his rod against the cabin in
+readiness for his enterprise. They had a day of satisfactory fishing,
+and brought home half-a-hundred spotted beauties that would have
+delighted the eyes of any angler in the world; and when their golden
+flesh stood open and broiling before the fire, or hissed and sputtered
+in the frying-pan, watched by the hungry and admiring eyes of the
+fishermen, they were attractive enough to be the food of the gods. And
+when, at last, the group gathered around the rude board, with appetites
+that seemed measureless, and devoured the dainties prepared for them,
+the pleasures of the day were crowned.
+
+But all this was comparatively tame sport to Mr. Balfour. He had come
+for larger game, and waited only for the nightfall to deepen into
+darkness to start upon his hunt for deer. The moon had passed her full,
+and would not rise until after the ordinary bed-time. The boys were
+anxious to be witnesses of the sport, and it was finally concluded, that
+for once, at least, they should be indulged in their desire.
+
+The voice of a hound was never heard in the woods, and even the "still
+hunting" practiced by the Indian was never resorted to until after the
+streams were frozen.
+
+Jim had been busy during the day in picking up pine knots, and digging
+out old stumps whose roots were charged with pitch. These he had
+collected and split up into small pieces, so that everything should be
+in readiness for the "float." As soon as the supper was finished, he
+brought a little iron "Jack," mounted upon a standard, and proceeded to
+fix this upright in the bow of the boat. Behind this he placed a square
+of sheet iron, so that a deer, dazzled by the light of the blazing pine,
+would see nothing behind it, while the occupants of the boat could see
+everything ahead without being blinded by the light, of which they could
+see nothing. Then he fixed a knob of tallow upon the forward sight of
+Mr. Balfour's gun, so that, projecting in front of the sheet iron
+screen, it would be plainly visible and render necessary only the
+raising of the breech to the point of half-hiding the tallow, in order
+to procure as perfect a range as if it were broad daylight.
+
+All these preparations were familiar to Mr. Balfour, and, loading his
+heavy shot-gun with a powerful charge, he waited impatiently for the
+darkness.
+
+At nine o'clock, Jim said it was time to start, and, lighting his
+torch, he took his seat in the stern of the boat, and bade Mr. Balfour
+take his place in the bow, where a board, placed across the boat, made
+him a comfortable seat. The boys, warmly wrapped, took their places
+together in the middle of the boat, and, clasping one another's hands
+and shivering with excitement, bade good-night to Mr. Benedict, who
+pushed them from the shore.
+
+The night was still, and Jim's powerful paddle urged the little craft up
+the stream with a push so steady, strong, and noiseless, that its
+passengers might well have imagined that the unseen river-spirits had it
+in tow. The torch cast its long glare into the darkness on either bank,
+and made shadows so weird and changeful that the boys imagined they saw
+every form of wild beast and flight of strange bird with which pictures
+had made them familiar. Owls hooted in the distance. A wild-cat screamed
+like a frightened child. A partridge, waked from its perch by a flash of
+the torch, whirred off into the woods.
+
+At length, after paddling up the stream for a mile, they heard the
+genuine crash of a startled animal. Jim stopped and listened. Then came
+the spiteful stroke of a deer's forefeet upon the leaves, and a whistle
+so sharp, strong and vital, that it thrilled every ear that heard it. It
+was a question, a protest, a defiance all in one; but not a sign of the
+animal could be seen. He was back in the cover, wary and watching, and
+was not to be tempted nearer by the light.
+
+Jim knew the buck, and knew that any delay on his account would be
+useless.
+
+"I knowed 'im when I hearn 'im whistle, an' he knowed me. He's been shot
+at from this boat more nor twenty times. 'Not any pine-knots on my
+plate,' says he. 'I seen 'em afore, an' you can pass.' I used to git
+kind o' mad at 'im, an' promise to foller 'im, but he's so 'cute, I sort
+o' like 'im. He 'muses me."
+
+While Jim waited and talked in a low tone, the buck was evidently
+examining the light and the craft, at his leisure and at a distance.
+Then he gave another lusty whistle that was half snort, and bounded off
+into the woods by leaps that struck every foot upon the ground at the
+same instant, and soon passed beyond hearing.
+
+"Well, the old feller's gone," said Jim, "an' now I know a patch o'
+lily-pads up the river where I guess we can find a beast that hasn't had
+a public edication."
+
+The tension upon the nerves of the boys was relieved, and they whispered
+between themselves about what they had seen, or thought they had seen.
+
+All became still, as Jim turned his boat up the stream again. After
+proceeding for ten or fifteen minutes in perfect silence, Jim whispered:
+
+"Skin yer eyes, now, Mr. Balfour; we're comin' to a lick."
+
+Jim steered his boat around a little bend, and in a moment it was
+running in shallow water, among grass and rushes. The bottom of the
+stream was plainly visible, and Mr. Balfour saw that they had left the
+river, and were pushing up the debouchure of a sluggish little affluent.
+They brushed along among the grass for twenty or thirty rods, when, at
+the same instant, every eye detected a figure in the distance. Two
+blazing, quiet, curious eyes were watching them. Jim had an instinct
+which assured him that the deer was fascinated by the light, and so he
+pushed toward him silently, then stopped, and held his boat perfectly
+still. This was the signal for Mr. Balfour, and in an instant the woods
+were startled by a discharge that deafened the silence.
+
+There was a violent splash in the water, a scramble up the bank, a bound
+or two toward the woods, a pitiful bleat, and then all was still.
+
+"We've got 'im," said Jim. "He's took jest one buckshot through his
+heart. Ye didn't touch his head nor his legs. He jest run till the blood
+leaked out and he gi'n it up. Now, boys, you set here, and sing
+hallelujer till we bring 'im in."
+
+The nose of the little craft was run against the bank, and Mr. Balfour,
+seizing the torch, sprang on shore, and Jim followed him into the woods.
+They soon found track of the game by the blood that dabbled the bushes,
+and stumbled upon the beautiful creature stone dead--fallen prone, with
+his legs doubled under him. Jim swung him across his shoulders, and,
+tottering behind Mr. Balfour, bore him back to the boat. Placing him in
+the bottom, the two men resumed their seats, and Jim, after carefully
+working himself out of the inlet into the river, settled down to a long,
+swift stroke that bore them back to the camp just as the moon began to
+show herself above the trees.
+
+It was a night long to be remembered by the boys, a fitting inauguration
+of the lawyer's vacation, and an introduction to woodcraft from which,
+in after years, the neophytes won rare stores of refreshment and health.
+
+Mr. Benedict received them with hearty congratulations, and the perfect
+sleep of the night only sharpened their desire for further depredations
+upon the game that lived around them, in the water and on the land.
+
+As the days passed on, they caught trout until they were tired of the
+sport; they floated for deer at night; they took weary tramps in all
+directions, and at evening, around the camp-fires, rehearsed their
+experiences.
+
+During all this period, Mr. Balfour was watching Harry Benedict. The
+contrast between the lad and his own son was as marked as that between
+the lad's father and himself, but the positions were reversed. Harry
+led, contrived, executed. He was positive, facile, amiable, and the boys
+were as happy together as their parents were. Jim had noticed the
+remarkable interest that Mr. Balfour took in the boy, and had begun to
+suspect that he entertained intentions which would deprive the camp of
+one of its chief sources of pleasure.
+
+One day when the lawyer and his guide were quietly eating their lunch in
+the forest, Mr. Balfour went to work, in his quiet, lawyer-like way, to
+ascertain the details of Benedict's history; and he heard them all.
+When he heard who had benefited by his guide's inventions, and learned
+just how matters stood with regard to the Belcher rifle, he became, for
+the first time since he had been in the woods, thoroughly excited. He
+had a law-case before him as full of the elements of romance as any that
+he had ever been engaged in. A defrauded inventor, living in the forest
+in poverty, having escaped from the insane ward of an alms-house, and
+the real owner of patent rights that were a mine of wealth to the man
+who believed that death had blotted out all the evidences of his
+villainy--this was quite enough to excite his professional interest,
+even had he been unacquainted with the man defrauded. But the position
+of this uncomplaining, dependent man, who could not fight his own
+battles, made an irresistible appeal to his sense of justice and his
+manhood.
+
+The moment, however, that the lawyer proposed to assist in righting the
+wrong, Mr. Benedict became dangerously excited. He could tell his story,
+but the thought of going out into the world again, and, particularly of
+engaging in a conflict with Robert Belcher, was one that he could not
+entertain. He was happier in the woods than he had been for many years.
+The life was gradually strengthening him. He hoped the time would come
+when he could get something for his boy, but, for the present, he could
+engage in no struggle for reclaiming and maintaining his rights. He
+believed that an attempt to do it would again drive him to distraction,
+and that, somehow, Mr. Belcher would get the advantage of him. His fear
+of the great proprietor had become morbidly acute, and Mr. Balfour could
+make no headway against it. It was prudent to let the matter drop for a
+while.
+
+Then Mr. Balfour opened his heart in regard to the boy. He told Benedict
+of the loss with which he had already acquainted Jim, of the loneliness
+of his remaining son, of the help that Harry could afford him, the need
+in which the lad stood of careful education, and the accomplishments he
+could win among better opportunities and higher society. He would take
+the boy, and treat him, up to the time of his majority, as his own. If
+Mr. Benedict could ever return the money expended for him, he could have
+the privilege of doing so, but it would never be regarded as a debt.
+Once every year the lawyer would bring the lad to the woods, so that he
+should not forget his father, and if the time should ever come when it
+seemed practicable to do so, a suit would be instituted that would give
+him the rights so cruelly withheld from his natural protector.
+
+The proposition was one which taxed to its utmost Mr. Benedict's power
+of self-control. He loved his boy better than he loved himself. He hoped
+that, in some way, life would be pleasanter and more successful to the
+lad than it had been to him. He did not wish him to grow up illiterate
+and in the woods; but how he was to live without him he could not tell.
+The plucking out of an eye would have given him less pain than the
+parting with his boy, though he felt from the first that the lad would
+go.
+
+Nothing could be determined without consulting Jim, and as the
+conversation had destroyed the desire for further sport, they packed
+their fishing-tackle and returned to camp.
+
+"The boy was'n't got up for my 'commodation," said Jim, when the
+proposition was placed before him. "I seen the thing comin' for a week,
+an' I've brung my mind to't. We hain't got no right to keep 'im up here,
+if he can do better. Turk ain't bad company fur them as likes dogs, but
+he ain't improvin'. I took the boy away from Tom Buffum 'cause I could
+do better by 'im nor he could, and when a man comes along that can do
+better by 'im nor I can, he's welcome to wade in. I hain't no right to
+spile a little feller's life 'cause I like his company. I don't think
+much of a feller that would cheat a man out of a jews-harp 'cause he
+liked to fool with it. Arter all, this sendin' the boy off is jest
+turnin' 'im out to pastur' to grow, an' takin' 'im in in the fall. He
+may git his head up so high t'we can't git the halter on 'im again, but
+he'll be worth more to somebody that can, nor if we kep 'im in the
+stable. I sh'll hate to say good-bye t' the little feller, but I sh'll
+vote to have 'im go, unanimous."
+
+Mr. Benedict was not a man who had will enough to withstand the rational
+and personal considerations that were brought to bear upon him, and then
+the two boys were brought into the consultation. Thede was overjoyed
+with the prospect of having for a home companion the boy to whom he had
+become so greatly attached, and poor Harry was torn by a conflict of
+inclinations. To leave Jim and his father behind was a great sorrow; and
+he was half angry with himself to think that he could find any pleasure
+in the prospect of a removal. But the love of change, natural to a boy,
+and the desire to see the wonders of the great city, with accounts of
+which Thede had excited his imagination, overcame his inclination to
+remain in the camp. The year of separation would be very short, he
+thought, so that, after all, it was only a temporary matter. The moment
+the project of going away took possession of him, his regrets died, and
+the exit from the woods seemed to him like a journey into dreamland,
+from which he should return in the morning.
+
+How to get the lad through Sevenoaks, where he would be sure to be
+recognised, and so reveal the hiding-place of his father, became at once
+a puzzling question. Mr. Balfour had arranged with the man who brought
+him into the woods to return in a fortnight and take him out, and as he
+was a man who had known the Benedicts it would not be safe to trust to
+his silence.
+
+It was finally arranged that Jim should start off at once with Harry,
+and engage Mike Conlin to go through Sevenoaks with him in the night,
+and deliver him at the railroad at about the hour when the regular stage
+would arrive with Mr. Balfour. The people of Sevenoaks were not
+travelers, and it would be a rare chance that should bring one of them
+through to that point. The preparations were therefore made at once, and
+the next evening poor Benedict was called upon to part with his boy. It
+was a bitter struggle, but it was accomplished, and, excited by the
+strange life that was opening before him, the boy entered the boat with
+Jim, and waved his adieus to the group that had gathered upon the bank
+to see them off.
+
+Poor Turk, who had apparently understood all that had passed in the
+conversations of the previous day, and become fully aware of the
+bereavement that he was about to suffer, stood upon the shore and howled
+and whined as they receded into the distance. Then he went up to Thede,
+and licked his hand, as if he would say; "Don't leave me as the other
+boy has done; if you do, I shall be inconsolable."
+
+Jim effected his purpose, and returned before light the next morning,
+and on the following day he took Mr. Balfour and Thede down the river,
+and delivered them to the man whom he found waiting for them. The
+programme was carried out in all its details, and two days afterward the
+two boys were sitting side by side in the railway-car that was hurrying
+them toward the great city.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+WHICH RECORDS MR. BELCHER'S CONNECTION WITH A GREAT SPECULATION AND
+BRINGS TO A CLOSE HIS RESIDENCE IN SEVENOAKS.
+
+
+Whither was he going? He had a little fortune in his pockets--more money
+than prudent men are in the habit of carrying with them--and a scheme in
+his mind. After the purchase of Palgrave's Folly, and the inauguration
+of a scale of family expenditure far surpassing all his previous
+experience, Mr. Belcher began to feel poor, and to realize the necessity
+of extending his enterprise. To do him justice, he felt that he had
+surpassed the proprieties of domestic life in taking so important a step
+as that of changing his residence without consulting Mrs. Belcher. He
+did not wish to meet her at once; so it was easy for him, when he left
+New York, to take a wide diversion on his way home.
+
+For several months the reports of the great oil discoveries of
+Pennsylvania had been floating through the press. Stories of enormous
+fortunes acquired in a single week, and even in a single day, were rife;
+and they had excited his greed with a strange power. He had witnessed,
+too, the effect of these stories upon the minds of the humble people of
+Sevenoaks. They were uneasy in their poverty, and were in the habit of
+reading with avidity all the accounts that emanated from the new center
+of speculation. The monsters of the sea had long been chased into the
+ice, and the whalers had returned with scantier fares year after year;
+but here was light for the world. The solid ground itself was echoing
+with the cry: "Here she blows!" and "There she blows!" and the long
+harpoons went down to its vitals, and were fairly lifted out by the
+pressure of the treasure that impatiently waited for deliverance.
+
+Mr. Belcher had long desired to have a hand in this new business. To see
+a great speculation pass by without yielding him any return was very
+painful to him. During his brief stay in New York he had been approached
+by speculators from the new field of promise; and had been able by his
+quick wit and ready business instinct to ascertain just the way in which
+money was made and was to be made. He dismissed them all, for he had the
+means in his hands of starting nearer the sources of profit than
+themselves, and to be not only one of the "bottom ring," but to be the
+bottom man. No moderate profit and no legitimate income would satisfy
+him. He would gather the investments of the multitude into his own
+capacious pockets, or he would have nothing to do with the matter. He
+would sweep the board, fairly or foully, or he would not play.
+
+As he traveled along westward, he found that the company was made up of
+men whose tickets took them to his own destination. Most of them were
+quiet, with ears open to the few talkers who had already been there, and
+were returning. Mr. Belcher listened to them, laughed at them, scoffed
+at their schemes, and laid up carefully all that they said. Before he
+arrived at Corry he had acquired a tolerable knowledge of the
+oil-fields, and determined upon his scheme of operations.
+
+As he drew nearer the great center of excitement, he came more into
+contact with the masses who had gathered there, crazed with the spirit
+of speculation. Men were around him whose clothes were shining with
+bitumen. The air was loaded with the smell of petroleum. Derricks were
+thrown up on every side; drills were at work piercing the earth;
+villages were starting among stumps still fresh at the top, as if their
+trees were cut but yesterday; rough men in high boots were ranging the
+country; the depots were glutted with portable Steam-engines and all
+sorts of mining machinery, and there was but one subject of
+conversation. Some new well had begun to flow with hundreds of barrels
+of petroleum _per diem_. Some new man had made a fortune. Farmers, who
+had barely been able to get a living from their sterile acres, had
+become millionaires. The whole region was alive with fortune-hunters,
+from every quarter of the country. Millions of dollars were in the
+pockets of men who were ready to purchase. Seedy, crazy, visionary
+fellows were working as middle-men, to talk up schemes, and win their
+bread, with as much more as they could lay their hands on. The very air
+was charged with the contagion of speculation, and men seemed ready to
+believe anything and do anything. It appeared, indeed, as if a man had
+only to buy, to double his money in a day; and half the insane multitude
+believed it.
+
+Mr. Belcher kept himself quiet, and defended himself from the influences
+around him by adopting and holding his scoffing mood. He believed
+nothing. He was there simply to see what asses men could make of
+themselves; but he kept his ears open. The wretched hotel at which he at
+last found accommodations was thronged with fortune-seekers, among whom
+he moved self-possessed and quite at home. On the second day his mood
+began to tell on those around him. There were men there who knew about
+him and his great wealth--men who had been impressed with his sagacity.
+He studied them carefully, gave no one his confidence, and quietly laid
+his plans. On the evening of the third day he returned to the hotel, and
+announced that he had had the good fortune to purchase a piece of
+property that he proposed to operate and improve on his own account.
+
+Then he was approached with propositions for forming a company. He had
+paid fifty thousand dollars for a farm--paid the money--and before
+morning he had sold half of it for what he gave for the whole, and
+formed a company with the nominal capital of half a million of dollars,
+a moiety of the stock being his own at no cost to him whatever. The
+arrangements were all made for the issue of stock and the commencement
+of operations, and when, three days afterward, he started from
+Titusville on his way home, he had in his satchel blank certificates of
+stock, all signed by the officers of the Continental Petroleum Company,
+to be limited in its issue to the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand
+dollars. He never expected to see the land again. He did not expect that
+the enterprise would be of the slightest value to those who should
+invest in it. He expected to do just what others were doing--to sell his
+stock and pocket the proceeds, while investors pocketed their losses. It
+was all an acute business operation with him; and he intended to take
+advantage of the excitement of the time to "clean out" Sevenoaks and all
+the region round about his country home, while his confreres operated in
+their own localities. He chuckled over his plans as if he contemplated
+some great, good deed that would be of incalculable benefit to his
+neighbors. He suffered no qualm of conscience, no revolt of personal
+honor, no spasm of sympathy or pity.
+
+As soon as he set out upon his journey homeward he began to think of his
+New York purchase. He had taken a bold step, and he wished that he had
+said something to Mrs. Belcher about his plans, but he had been so much
+in the habit of managing everything in his business without consulting
+her, that it did not occur to him before he started from home that any
+matter of his was not exclusively his own. He would just as soon have
+thought of taking Phipps into his confidence, or of deferring to his
+wishes in any project, as of extending those courtesies to his wife.
+There was another consideration which weighed somewhat heavily upon his
+mind. He was not entirely sure that he would not be ashamed of Mrs.
+Belcher in the grand home which he had provided for himself. He
+respected her, and had loved her in his poor, sensual fashion, some
+changeful years in the past; he had regarded her as a good mother, and,
+at least, as an inoffensive wife; but she was not Mrs. Dillingham. She
+would not be at home in the society of which he had caught a glimpse,
+or among the splendors to which he would be obliged to introduce her.
+Even Talbot, the man who was getting rich upon the products of his
+enterprise, had a more impressive wife than he. And thus, with much
+reflection, this strange, easy-natured brute without a conscience,
+wrought up his soul into self-pity. In some way he had been defrauded.
+It never could have been intended that a man capable of winning so many
+of his heart's desires as he had proved himself to be, should be tied to
+a woman incapable of illuminating and honoring his position. If he only
+had a wife of whose person he could be proud! If he only had a wife
+whose queenly presence and manners would give significance to the
+splendors of the Palgrave mansion!
+
+There was no way left for him, however, but to make the best of his
+circumstances, and put a brave face upon the matter. Accordingly, the
+next morning after his arrival, he told, with such display of enthusiasm
+as he could assume, the story of his purchase. The children were all
+attention, and made no hesitation to express their delight with the
+change that lay before them. Mrs. Belcher grew pale, choked over her
+breakfast, and was obliged to leave the table. At the close of the meal,
+Mr. Belcher followed her to her room, and found her with dry eyes and an
+angry face.
+
+"Robert, you have determined to kill me," she said, almost fiercely.
+
+"Oh, no, Sarah; not quite so bad as that."
+
+"How could you take a step which you knew would give me a life-long
+pain? Have I not suffered enough? Is it not enough that I have ceased
+practically to have a husband?--that I have given up all society, and
+been driven in upon my children? Am I to have no will, no consideration,
+no part or lot in my own life?"
+
+"Put it through, Sarah; you have the floor, and I'm ready to take it all
+now."
+
+"And it is all for show," she went on, "and is disgusting. There is not
+a soul in the city that your wealth can bring to me that will give me
+society. I shall be a thousand times lonelier there than I have been
+here; and you compel me to go where I must receive people whom I shall
+despise, and who, for that reason, will dislike me. You propose to force
+me into a life that is worse than emptiness. I am more nearly content
+here than I can ever be anywhere else, and I shall never leave here
+without a cruel sense of sacrifice."
+
+"Good for you, Sarah!" said Mr. Belcher. "You're more of a trump than I
+thought you were; and if it will do you any good to know that I think
+I've been a little rough with you, I don't mind telling you so. But the
+thing is done, and it can't be undone. You can have your own sort of
+life there as you do here, and I can have mine. I suppose I could go
+there and run the house alone; but it isn't exactly the thing for Mrs.
+Belcher's husband to do. People might talk, you know, and they wouldn't
+blame me."
+
+"No; they would blame me, and I must go, whether I wish to go or not."
+
+Mrs. Belcher had talked until she could weep, and brushing her eyes she
+walked to the window. Mr. Belcher sat still, casting furtive glances at
+her, and drumming with his fingers on his knees. When she could
+sufficiently command herself, she returned, and said:
+
+"Robert, I have tried to be a good wife to you. I helped you in your
+first struggles, and then you were a comfort to me. But your wealth has
+changed you, and you know that for ten years I have had no husband. I
+have humored your caprices; I have been careful not to cross your will.
+I have taken your generous provision, and made myself and my children
+what you desired; but I am no more to you than a part of your
+establishment. I do not feel that my position is an honorable one. I
+wish to God that I had one hope that it would ever become so."
+
+"Well, by-by, Sarah. You'll feel better about it."
+
+Then Mr. Belcher stooped and kissed her forehead, and left her.
+
+That little attention--that one shadow of recognition of the old
+relations, that faint show of feeling--went straight to her starving
+heart. And then, assuming blame for what seemed, at the moment of
+reaction, her unreasonable selfishness, she determined to say no more,
+and to take uncomplainingly whatever life her husband might provide for
+her.
+
+As for Mr. Belcher, he went off to his library and his cigar with a
+wound in his heart. The interview with his wife, while it had excited in
+him a certain amount of pity for her, had deepened his pity for himself.
+She had ceased to be what she had once been to him; yet his experience
+in the city had proved that there were still women in the world who
+could excite in him the old passion, and move him to the old
+gallantries. It was clearly a case of incipient "incompatibility." It
+was "the mistake of a lifetime" just discovered, though she had borne
+his children and held his respect for fifteen years. He still felt the
+warmth of Mrs. Dillingham's hands within his own, the impression of her
+confiding clasp upon his arm, and the magnetic influence of her splendid
+presence. Reason as he would, he felt defrauded of his rights; and he
+wondered whether any combination of circumstances would ever permit him
+to achieve them. As this amounted to wondering whether Mrs. Belcher
+would die, he strove to banish the question from his mind; but it
+returned and returned again so pertinaciously that he was glad to order
+his horses and ride to his factory.
+
+Before night it became noised through the village that the great
+proprietor had been to the oil regions. The fact was talked over among
+the people in the shops, in the street, in social groups that gathered
+at evening; and there was great curiosity to know what he had learned,
+and what opinions he had formed. Mr. Belcher knew how to play his cards,
+and having set the people talking, he filled out and sent to each of the
+wives of the five pastors of the village, as a gift, a certificate of
+five shares of the stock of the Continental Petroleum Company. Of
+course, they were greatly delighted, and, of course, twenty-four hours
+had not passed by when every man, woman and child in Sevenoaks was
+acquainted with the transaction. People began to revise their judgments
+of the man whom they had so severely condemned. After all, it was the
+way in which he had done things in former days, and though they had come
+to a vivid apprehension of the fact that he had done them for a purpose,
+which invariably terminated in himself, they could not see what there
+was to be gained by so munificent a gift. Was he not endeavoring, by
+self-sacrifice, to win back a portion of the consideration he had
+formerly enjoyed? Was it not a confession of wrong-doing, or wrong
+judgment? There were men who shook their heads, and "didn't know about
+it;" but the preponderance of feeling was on the side of the proprietor,
+who sat in his library and imagined just what was in progress around
+him,--nay, calculated upon it, as a chemist calculates the results of
+certain combinations in his laboratory. He knew the people a great deal
+better than they knew him, or even themselves.
+
+Miss Butterworth called at the house of the Rev. Solomon Snow, who,
+immediately upon her entrance, took his seat in his arm-chair, and
+adjusted his bridge. The little woman was so combative and incisive that
+this always seemed a necessary precaution on the part of that gentleman.
+
+"I want to see it!" said Miss Butterworth, without the slightest
+indication of the object of her curiosity.
+
+Mrs. Snow rose without hesitation, and, going to a trunk In her bedroom,
+brought out her precious certificate of stock, and placed it in the
+hands of the tailoress.
+
+It certainly was a certificate of stock, to the amount of five shares,
+in the Continental Petroleum Company, and Mr. Belcher's name was not
+among the signatures of the officers.
+
+"Well, that beats me!" exclaimed Miss Butterworth. "What do you suppose
+the old snake wants now?"
+
+"That's just what I say--just what I say," responded Mrs. Snow.
+Goodness knows, if it's worth anything, we need it; but what _does_ he
+want?"
+
+"You'll find out some time. Take my word for it, he has a large axe to
+grind."
+
+"I think," said Mr. Snow judicially, "that it is quite possible that we
+have been unjust to Mr. Belcher. He is certainly a man of generous
+instincts, but with great eccentricities. Before condemning him _in
+toto_ (here Mr. Snow opened his bridge to let out the charity that was
+rising within him, and closed it at once for fear Miss Butterworth would
+get in a protest), let us be sure that there is a possible selfish
+motive for this most unexpected munificence. When we ascertain the true
+state of the case, then we can take things as they air. Until we have
+arrived at the necessary knowledge, it becomes us to withhold all severe
+judgments. A generous deed has its reflex influence; and it may be that
+some good may come to Mr. Belcher from this, and help to mold his
+character to nobler issues. I sincerely hope it may, and that we shall
+realize dividends that will add permanently to our somewhat restricted
+sources of income."
+
+Miss Butterworth sat during the speech, and trotted her knee. She had no
+faith in the paper, and she frankly said so.
+
+"Don't be fooled," she said to Mrs. Snow. "By and by you will find out
+that it is all a trick. Don't expect anything. I tell you I know Robert
+Belcher, and I know he's a knave, if there ever was one. I can feel
+him--I can feel him now--chuckling over this business, for business it
+is."
+
+"What would you do if you were in my place?" inquired Mrs. Snow. "Would
+you send it back to him?"
+
+"Yes, or I'd take it with a pair of tongs and throw it out of the
+window. I tell you there's a nasty trick done up in that paper; and if
+you're going to keep it, don't say anything about it."
+
+The family laughed, and even Mr. Snow unbent himself so far as to smile
+and wipe his spectacles. Then the little tailoress went away, wondering
+when the mischief would reveal itself, but sure that it would appear in
+good time. In good time--that is, in Mr. Belcher's good time--it did
+appear.
+
+To comprehend the excitement that followed, it must be remembered that
+the people of Sevenoaks had the most implicit confidence in Mr.
+Belcher's business sagacity. He had been upon the ground, and knew
+personally all about the great discoveries. Having investigated for
+himself, he had invested his funds in this Company. If the people could
+only embark in his boat, they felt that they should be safe. He would
+defend their interests while defending his own. So the field was all
+ready for his reaping. Not Sevenoaks alone, but the whole country was
+open to any scheme which connected them with the profits of these great
+discoveries, and when the excitement at Sevenoaks passed away at last,
+and men regained their senses, in the loss of their money, they had the
+company of a multitude of ruined sympathizers throughout the length and
+breadth of the land. Not only the simple and the impressible yielded to
+the wave of speculation that swept the country, but the shrewdest
+business men formed its crest, and were thrown high and dry beyond all
+others, in the common wreck, when it reached the shore.
+
+On the evening of the fourth day after his return, Mr. Belcher was
+waited upon at his house by a self-constituted committee of citizens,
+who merely called to inquire into the wonders of the region he had
+explored. Mr. Belcher was quite at his ease, and entered at once upon a
+narrative of his visit. He had supposed that the excitement was without
+any good foundation, but the oil was really there; and he did not see
+why the business was not as legitimate and sound as any in the world.
+The whole world needed the oil, and this was the one locality which
+produced it. There was undoubtedly more or less of wild speculation
+connected with it, and, considering the value of the discoveries, it was
+not to be wondered at. On the whole, it was the biggest thing that had
+turned up during his lifetime.
+
+Constantly leading them away from the topic of investment, he regaled
+their ears with the stories of the enormous fortunes that had been made,
+until there was not a man before him who was not ready to invest half
+the fortune he possessed in the speculation. Finally, one of the more
+frank and impatient of the group informed Mr. Belcher that they had come
+prepared to invest, if they found his report favorable.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Mr. Belcher, "I really cannot take the responsibility
+of advising you. I can act for myself, but when it comes to advising my
+neighbors, it is another matter entirely. You really must excuse me from
+this. I have gone into the business rather heavily, but I have done it
+without advice, and you must do the same. It isn't right for any man to
+lead another into experiments of this sort, and it is hardly the fair
+thing to ask him to do it. I've looked for myself, but the fact that I
+am satisfied is no good reason for your being so."
+
+"Very well, tell us how to do it," said the spokesman. "We cannot leave
+our business to do what you have done, and we shall be obliged to run
+some risk, if we go into it at all."
+
+"Now, look here," said the wily proprietor, "you are putting me in a
+hard place. Suppose the matter turns out badly; are you going to come to
+me, and charge me with leading you into it?"
+
+"Not at all," was responded, almost in unison.
+
+"If you want to go into the Continental, I presume there is still some
+stock to be had. If you wish me to act as your agent, I will serve you
+with a great deal of pleasure, but, mark you, I take no responsibility.
+I will receive your money, and you shall have your certificates as soon
+as the mail will bring them; and, if I can get no stock of the Company,
+you shall have some of my own."
+
+They protested that they did not wish to put him to inconvenience, but
+quietly placed their money in his hands. Every sum was carefully counted
+and recorded, and Mr. Belcher assured them that they should have their
+certificates within five days.
+
+As they retired, he confidentially told them that they had better keep
+the matter from any but their particular friends. If there was any man
+among those friends who would like "a chance in," he might come to him,
+and he would do what he could for him.
+
+Each of these men went off down the hill, full of dreams of sudden
+wealth, and, as each of them had three or four particular friends to
+whom Mr. Belcher's closing message was given, that gentleman was
+thronged with visitors the next day, each one of whom he saw alone. All
+of these, too, had particular friends, and within ten days Mr. Belcher
+had pocketed in his library the munificent sum of one hundred and fifty
+thousand dollars. After a reasonable period, each investor received a
+certificate of his stock through the mail.
+
+It was astonishing to learn that there was so much money in the village.
+It came in sums of one hundred up to five hundred dollars, from the most
+unexpected sources--little hoards that covered the savings of many
+years. It came from widows and orphans; it came from clergymen; it came
+from small tradesmen and farmers; it came from the best business men in
+the place and region.
+
+The proprietor was in daily communication with his confederates and
+tools, and the investors were one day electrified by the information
+that the Continental had declared a monthly dividend of two per cent.
+This was what was needed to unload Mr. Belcher of nearly all the stock
+he held, and, within one month of his arrival from the oil-fields, he
+had realized a sum sufficient to pay for his new purchase in the city,
+and the costly furniture with which he proposed to illuminate it.
+
+Sevenoaks was happy. The sun of prosperity had dawned upon the people,
+and the favored few who supposed that they were the only ones to whom
+the good fortune had come, were surprised to find themselves a great
+multitude. The dividend was the talk of the town. Those who had
+invested a portion of their small means invested more, and those whose
+good angel had spared them from the sacrifice yielded to the glittering
+temptation, and joined their lot with their rejoicing neighbors. Mr.
+Belcher walked or drove among them, and rubbed his hands over their good
+fortune. He knew very well that if he were going to reside longer among
+the people, his position would be a hard one; but he calculated that
+when the explosion should come, he should be beyond its reach.
+
+It was a good time for him to declare the fact that he was about to
+leave them; and this he did. An earthquake would not have filled them
+with greater surprise and consternation. The industries of the town were
+in his hands. The principal property of the village was his. He was
+identified with the new enterprise upon which they had built such high
+hope, and they had come to believe that he was a kindlier man than they
+had formerly supposed him to be.
+
+Already, however, there were suspicions in many minds that there were
+bubbles on their oil, ready to burst, and reveal the shallowness of the
+material beneath them; but these very suspicions urged them to treat Mr.
+Belcher well, and to keep him interested for them. They protested
+against his leaving them. They assured him of their friendship. They
+told him that he had grown up among them, and that they could not but
+feel that he belonged to them. They were proud of the position and
+prosperity he had won for himself. They fawned upon him, and when, at
+last, he told them that it was too late--that he had purchased and
+furnished a home for himself in the city--they called a public meeting,
+and, after a dozen regretful and complimentary speeches, from clergy and
+laity, resolved:
+
+"1st. That we have learned with profound regret that our distinguished
+fellow-citizen, ROBERT BELCHER, Esq., is about to remove his residence
+from among us, and to become a citizen of the commercial emporium of our
+country.
+
+"2d. That we recognize in him a gentleman of great business enterprise,
+of generous instincts, of remarkable public spirit, and a personal
+illustration of the beneficent influence of freedom and of free
+democratic institutions.
+
+"3d. That the citizens of Sevenoaks will ever hold in kindly remembrance
+a gentleman who has been identified with the growth and importance of
+their beloved village, and that they shall follow him to his new home
+with heartiest good wishes and prayers for his welfare.
+
+"4th. That whenever in the future his heart and his steps shall turn
+toward his old home, and the friends of his youth, he shall be greeted
+with voices of welcome, and hearts and homes of hospitality.
+
+"5th. That these resolutions shall be published in the county papers,
+and that a copy shall be presented to the gentleman named therein, by a
+committee to be appointed by the chairman."
+
+As was quite natural, and quite noteworthy, under the circumstances, the
+committee appointed was composed of those most deeply interested in the
+affairs of the Continental Petroleum Company.
+
+Mr. Belcher received the committee very graciously, and made them a neat
+little speech, which he had carefully prepared for the occasion. In
+concluding, he alluded to the great speculation in which they, with so
+many of their fellow-citizens, had embarked.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he, "there is no one who holds so large an interest in
+the Continental as myself. I have parted with many of my shares to
+gratify the desire of the people of Sevenoaks to possess them, but I
+still hold more than any of you. If the enterprise prospers, I shall
+prosper with you. If it goes down, as I sincerely hope it may not--more
+for your sakes, believe me, than my own--I shall suffer with you. Let us
+hope for the best. I have already authority for announcing to you that
+another monthly dividend of two per cent. will be paid you before I am
+called upon to leave you. That certainly looks like prosperity.
+Gentlemen, I bid you farewell."
+
+When they had departed, having first heartily shaken the proprietor's
+hand, that gentleman locked his door, and gazed for a long time into his
+mirror.
+
+"Robert Belcher," said he, "are you a rascal? Who says rascal? Are you
+any worse than the crowd? How badly would any of these precious
+fellow-citizens of yours feel if they knew their income was drawn from
+other men's pockets? Eh? Wouldn't they prefer to have somebody suffer
+rather than lose their investments? Verily, verily, I say unto you, they
+would. Don't talk to me about being a rascal! You're just a little
+sharper than the rest of them--that's all. They wanted to get money
+without earning it, and wanted me to help them to do it. I wanted to get
+money without earning it, and I wanted them to help me to do it. It
+happens that they will be disappointed and that I am satisfied. Don't
+say rascal to me, sir. If I ever hear that word again I'll throttle you.
+Is that question settled? It is? Very well. Let there be peace between
+us.... List! I hear the roar of the mighty city! Who lives in yonder
+palace? Whose wealth surrounds him thus with luxuries untold? Who walks
+out of yonder door and gets into that carriage, waiting with impatient
+steeds? Is that gentleman's name Belcher? Take a good look at him as he
+rolls away, bowing right and left to the gazing multitude. He is gone.
+The abyss of heaven swallows up his form, and yet I linger. Why
+lingerest thou? Farewell! and again I say, farewell!"
+
+Mr. Belcher had very carefully covered all his tracks. He had insisted
+on having his name omitted from the list of officers of the Continental
+Petroleum Company. He had carefully forwarded the names of all who had
+invested in its stock for record, so that, if the books should ever be
+brought to light, there should be no apparent irregularity in his
+dealings. His own name was there with the rest, and a small amount of
+money had been set aside for operating expenses, so that something would
+appear to have been done.
+
+The day approached for his departure, and his agent, with his family,
+was installed in his house for its protection; and one fine morning,
+having first posted on two or three public places the announcement of a
+second monthly dividend to be paid through his agent to the stockholders
+in the Continental, he, with his family, rode down the hill in his
+coach, followed by an enormous baggage-wagon loaded with trunks, and
+passed through the village. Half of Sevenoaks was out to witness the
+departure. Cheers rent the air from every group; and if a conqueror had
+returned from the most sacred patriotic service he could not have
+received a heartier ovation than that bestowed upon the graceless
+fugitive. He bowed from side to side in his own lordly way, and
+flourished and extended his pudgy palm in courtly courtesy.
+
+Mrs. Belcher sat back in her seat, shrinking from all these
+demonstrations, for she knew that her husband was unworthy of them. The
+carriages disappeared in the distance, and then--sad, suspicious,
+uncommunicative--the men went off to draw their last dividend and go
+about their work. They fought desperately against their own distrust. In
+the proportion that they doubted the proprietor they were ready to
+defend him; but there was not a man of them who had not been fairly
+warned that he was running his own risk, and who had not sought for the
+privilege of throwing away his money.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+IN WHICH JIM ENLARGES HIS PLANS FOR A HOUSE, AND COMPLETES HIS PLANS FOR
+A HOUSE-KEEPER.
+
+
+When, at last, Jim and Mr. Benedict were left alone by the departure of
+Mr. Balfour and the two lads, they sat as if they had been stranded by a
+sudden squall after a long and pleasant voyage. Mr. Benedict was plunged
+into profound dejection, and Jim saw that he must be at once and
+persistently diverted.
+
+"I telled Mr. Balfour," said he, "afore he went away, about the house. I
+telled him about the stoop, an' the chairs, an' the ladder for posies to
+run up on, an' I said somethin' about cubberds and settles, an' other
+thingembobs that have come into my mind; an' says he: 'Jim, be ye goin'
+to splice?' An' says I: 'If so be I can find a little stick as'll
+answer, it wouldn't be strange if I did.' 'Well,' says he, 'now's yer
+time, if ye're ever goin' to, for the hay-day of your life is a passin'
+away.' An' says I: 'No, ye don't. My hay-day has jest come, and my grass
+is dry an' it'll keep. It's good for fodder, an' it wouldn't make a bad
+bed.'"
+
+"What did he say to that?" inquired Mr. Benedict.
+
+"Says he: 'I shouldn't wonder if ye was right. Have ye found the woman?'
+'Yes,' says I. 'I have found a genuine creetur.' An' says he: 'What is
+her name?' An' says I: 'That's tellin'. It's a name as oughter be
+changed, an' it won't be my fault if it ain't.' An' then says he: 'Can I
+be of any 'sistance to ye?' An' says I: 'No. Courtin' is like dyin'; ye
+can't trust it to another feller. Ye've jest got to go it alone.' An'
+then he laughed, an' says he: 'Jim, I wish ye good luck, an' I hope
+ye'll live to have a little feller o' yer own.' An' says I: 'Old
+Jerusalem! If I ever have a little feller o' my own,' says I, 'this
+world will have to spread to hold me.'"
+
+Then Jim put his head down between his knees, and thought. When it
+emerged from its hiding his eyes were moist, and he said:
+
+"Ye must 'scuse me, Mr. Benedict, for ye know what the feelin's of a pa
+is. It never come to me in this way afore."
+
+Benedict could not help smiling at this new exhibition of sympathy; for
+Jim, in the comprehension of his feelings in the possible event of
+possessing offspring, had arrived at a more vivid sense of his
+companion's bereavement.
+
+"Now, I tell ye what it is," said Jim. "You an' me has got to be
+brushin' round. We can't set here an' think about them that's gone; an'
+now I want to tell ye 'bout another thing that Mr. Balfour said. Says
+he: 'Jim, if ye're goin' to build a house, build a big one, an' keep a
+hotel. I'll fill it all summer for ye,' says he. 'I know lots o' folks,'
+says he, 'that would be glad to stay with ye, an' pay all ye axed 'em.
+Build a big house,' says he, 'an' take yer time for't, an' when ye git
+ready for company, let a feller know.' I tell ye, it made my eyes stick
+out to think on't. 'Jim Fenton's hotel! says I. 'I don't b'lieve I can
+swing it.' 'If ye want any more money'n ye've got,' says he, 'call on
+me.'"
+
+The idea of a hotel, with all its intrusions upon his privacy and all
+its diversions, was not pleasant to Mr. Benedict; but he saw at once
+that no woman worthy of Jim could be expected to be happy in the woods
+entirely deprived of society. It would establish a quicker and more
+regular line of communication with Sevenoaks, and thus make a change
+from its life to that of the woods a smaller hardship. But the building
+of a large house was a great enterprise for two men to undertake.
+
+The first business was to draw a plan. In this work Mr. Benedict was
+entirely at home. He could not only make plans of the two floors, but
+an elevation of the front; and when, after two days of work, with
+frequent questions and examinations by Jim, his drawings were concluded,
+they held a long discussion over them. It was all very wonderful to Jim,
+and all very satisfactory--at least, he said so; and yet he did not seem
+to be entirely content.
+
+"Tell me, Jim, just what the trouble is," said his architect, "for I see
+there's something wanting."
+
+"I don't see," said Jim, "jest where ye're goin' to put 'im."
+
+"Who do you mean? Mr. Balfour?"
+
+"No; I don't mean no man."
+
+"Harry? Thede?"
+
+"No; I mean, s'posin'. Can't we put on an ell when we want it?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"An' now, can't ye make yer picter look kind o' cozy like, with a little
+feller playin' on the ground down there afore the stoop?"
+
+Mr. Benedict not only could do this, but he did it; and then Jim took
+it, and looked at it for a long time.
+
+"Well, little feller, ye can play thar till ye're tired, right on that
+paper, an' then ye must come into the house, an' let yer ma wash yer
+face;" and then Jim, realizing the comical side of all this charming
+dream, laughed till the woods rang again, and Benedict laughed with him.
+It was a kind of clearing up of the cloud of sentiment that enveloped
+them both, and they were ready to work. They settled, after a long
+discussion, upon the site of the new house, which was back from the
+river, near Number Ten. There were just three things to be done during
+the remainder of the autumn and the approaching winter. A cellar was to
+be excavated, the timber for the frame of the new house was to be cut
+and hewed, and the lumber was to be purchased and drawn to the river.
+Before the ground should freeze, they determined to complete the cellar,
+which was to be made small--to be, indeed, little more than a cave
+beneath the house, that would accommodate such stores as it would be
+necessary to shield from the frost. A fortnight of steady work, by both
+the men, not only completed the excavation, but built the wall.
+
+Then came the selection of timber for the frame. It was all found near
+the spot, and for many days the sound of two axes was heard through the
+great stillness of the Indian summer; for at this time nature, as well
+as Jim, was in a dream. Nuts were falling from the hickory-trees, and
+squirrels were leaping along the ground, picking up the stores on which
+they were to subsist during the long winter that lay before them. The
+robins had gone away southward, and the voice of the thrushes was still.
+A soft haze steeped the wilderness in its tender hue--a hue that carried
+with it the fragrance of burning leaves. At some distant forest shrine,
+the priestly winds were swinging their censers, and the whole temple was
+pervaded with the breath of worship. Blue-jays were screaming among
+leathern-leaved oaks, and the bluer kingfishers made their long diagonal
+flights from side to side of the river, chattering like magpies. There
+was one infallible sign that winter was close upon the woods. The wild
+geese, flying over Number Nine, had called to Jim with news from the
+Arctic, and he had looked up at the huge harrow scraping the sky, and
+said: "I seen ye, an' I know what ye mean."
+
+The timber was cut of appropriate length and rolled upon low
+scaffoldings, where it could be conveniently hewed during the winter;
+then two days were spent in hunting and in setting traps for sable and
+otter, and then the two men were ready to arrange for the lumber.
+
+This involved the necessity of a calculation of the materials required,
+and definite specifications of the same. Not only this, but it required
+that Mr. Benedict should himself accompany Jim on the journey to the
+mill, three miles beyond Mike Conlin's house. He naturally shrank from
+this exposure of himself; but so long as he was not in danger of coming
+in contact with Mr. Belcher, or with any one whom he had previously
+known, he was persuaded that the trip would not be unpleasant to him. In
+truth, as he grew stronger personally, and felt that his boy was out of
+harm's way, he began to feel a certain indefinite longing to see
+something of the world again, and to look into new faces.
+
+As for Jim, he had no idea of returning to Number Nine again until he
+had seen Sevenoaks, and that one most interesting person there with whom
+he had associated his future, although he did not mention his plan to
+Mr. Benedict.
+
+The ice was already gathering in the stream, and the winter was
+descending so rapidly that they despaired of taking their boat down to
+the old landing, and permitting it to await their return, as they would
+be almost certain to find it frozen in, and be obliged to leave it there
+until spring. They were compelled, therefore, to make the complete
+journey on foot, following to the lower landing the "tote-road" that
+Mike Conlin had taken when he came to them on his journey of discovery.
+
+They started early one morning about the middle of November, and, as the
+weather was cold, Turk bore them company. Though Mr. Benedict had become
+quite hardy, the tramp of thirty miles over the frozen ground, that had
+already received a slight covering of snow, was a cruel one, and taxed
+to their utmost his powers of endurance.
+
+Jim carried the pack of provisions, and left his companion without a
+load; so by steady, quiet, and almost speechless walking, they made the
+entire distance to Mike Conlin's house before the daylight had entirely
+faded from the pale, cold sky. Mike was taken by surprise. He could
+hardly be made to believe that the hearty-looking, comfortably-dressed
+man whom he found in Mr. Benedict was the same whom he had left many
+months before in the rags of a pauper and the emaciation of a feeble
+convalescent. The latter expressed to Mike the obligations he felt for
+the service which Jim informed him had been rendered by the good-natured
+Irishman, and Mike blushed while protesting that it was "nothing at
+all, at all," and thinking of the hundred dollars that he earned so
+easily.
+
+"Did ye know, Jim," said Mike, to change the subject, "that owld Belcher
+has gone to New Yorrk to live?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Yis, the whole kit an' boodle of 'em is gone, an' the purty man wid
+'em."
+
+"Hallelujer!" roared Jim.
+
+"Yis, and be gorry he's got me hundred dollars," said Mike.
+
+"What did ye gi'en it to 'im for, Mike? I didn't take ye for a fool."
+
+"Well, ye see, I wint in for ile, like the rist of 'em. Och! ye shud
+'ave seen the owld feller talk! 'Mike,' says he, 'ye can't afford to
+lose this,' says he. 'I should miss me slape, Mike,' says he, 'if it
+shouldn't all come back to ye.' 'An' if it don't,' says I, 'there'll be
+two uv us lyin' awake, an' ye'll have plinty of company; an' what they
+lose in dhraimin' they'll take out in cussin',' says I. 'Mike,' says he,
+'ye hadn't better do it, an' if ye do, I don't take no resk;' an' says
+I, 'they're all goin' in, an' I'm goin' wid 'em.' 'Very well,' says he,
+lookin' kind o' sorry, and then, be gorry, he scooped the whole pile,
+an' barrin' the ile uv his purty spache, divil a bit have I seen more
+nor four dollars."
+
+"Divil a bit will ye see agin," said Jim, shaking his head. "Mike, ye're
+a fool."
+
+"That's jist what I tell mesilf," responded Mike; "but there's betther
+music nor hearin' it repaited; an' I've got betther company in it,
+barrin' Mr. Benedict's presence, nor I've got here in me own house."
+
+Jim, finding Mike a little sore over his loss, refrained from further
+allusion to it; and Mr. Benedict declared himself ready for bed. Jim had
+impatiently waited for this announcement, for he was anxious to have a
+long talk with Mike about the new house, the plans for which he had
+brought with him.
+
+"Clear off yer table," said Jim, "an' peel yer eyes, Mike, for I'm
+goin' to show ye somethin' that'll s'prise ye."
+
+When his order was obeyed, he unrolled the precious plans.
+
+"Now, ye must remember, Mike, that this isn't the house; these is plans,
+as Mr. Benedict has drawed. That's the kitchen, and that's the
+settin'-room, and that's the cubberd, and that's the bedroom for us, ye
+know, and on that other paper is the chambers."
+
+Mike looked at it all earnestly, and with a degree of awe, and then
+shook his head.
+
+"Jim," said he, "I don't want to bodder ye, but ye've jist been fooled.
+Don't ye see that divil a place 'ave ye got for the pig?"
+
+"Pig!" exclaimed Jim, with contempt. "D'ye s'pose I build a house for a
+pig? I ain't no pig, an' she ain't no pig."
+
+"The proof of the puddin' is in the atin', Jim; an' ye don't know the
+furrst thing about house-kapin'. Ye can no more kape house widout a pig,
+nor ye can row yer boat widout a paddle. I'm an owld house-kaper, Jim,
+an' I know; an' a man that don't tend to his pig furrst, is no betther
+nor a b'y. Ye might put 'im in Number Tin, but he'd go through it
+quicker nor water through a baskit. Don't talk to me about house-kapin'
+widout a pig. Ye might give 'im that little shtoop to lie on, an' let
+'im run under the house to slape. That wouldn't be bad now, Jim?"
+
+The last suggestion was given in a tender, judicial tone, for Mike saw
+that Jim was disappointed, if not disgusted. Jim was looking at his
+beautiful stoop, and thinking of the pleasant dreams he had associated
+with it. The idea of Mike's connecting the life of a pig with that stoop
+was more than he could bear.
+
+"Why, Mike," said he, in an injured tone, "that stoop's the place where
+she's agoin' to set."
+
+"Oh! I didn't know, Jim, ye was agoin' to kape hins. Now, ef you're
+agoin' to kape hins, ye kin do as ye plase, Jim, in coorse; but ye
+musn't forgit the pig, Jim. Be gorry, he ates everything that nobody
+ilse kin ate, and then ye kin ate him."
+
+Mike had had his expression of opinion, and shown to his own
+satisfaction that his judgments were worth something. Having done this,
+he became amiable, sympathetic, and even admiring. Jim was obliged to
+tell him the same things a great many times, and to end at last without
+the satisfaction of knowing that the Irishman comprehended the precious
+plans. He would have been glad to make a confidant of Mike, but the
+Irishman's obtuseness and inability to comprehend his tenderer
+sentiments, repulsed him, and drove him back upon himself.
+
+Then came up the practical question concerning Mike's ability to draw
+the lumber for the new house. Mike thought he could hire a horse for his
+keeping, and a sled for a small sum, that would enable him to double his
+facilities for doing the job; and then a price for the work was agreed
+upon.
+
+The next morning, Jim and Mr. Benedict pursued their journey to the
+lumber-mill, and there spent the day in selecting their materials, and
+filling out their specifications.
+
+The first person Mr. Benedict saw on entering the mill was a young man
+from Sevenoaks, whom he had known many years before. He colored as if he
+had been detected in a crime, but the man gave him no sign that the
+recognition was mutual. His old acquaintance had no memory of him,
+apparently; and then he realized the change that must have passed upon
+him during his long invalidism and his wonderful recovery.
+
+They remained with the proprietor of the mill during the night.
+
+"I jest call 'im Number Ten," said Jim, in response to the inquiries
+that were made of him concerning his companion, "He never telled me his
+name, an' I never axed 'im. I'm 'Number Nine,' an' he's 'Number Ten,'
+and that's all thar is about it."
+
+Jim's oddities were known, and inquiries were pushed no further, though
+Jim gratuitously informed his host that the man had come into the woods
+to get well and was willing to work to fill up his time.
+
+On the following morning, Jim proposed to Mr. Benedict to go on to
+Sevenoaks for the purchase of more tools, and the nails and hardware
+that would be necessary in finishing the house. The experience of the
+latter during the previous day showed him that he need not fear
+detection, and, now that Mr. Belcher was out of the way, Jim found him
+possessed by a strong desire to make the proposed visit. The road was
+not difficult, and before sunset the two men found themselves housed in
+the humble lodgings that had for many years been familiar to Jim. Mr.
+Benedict went into the streets, and among the shops, the next morning,
+with great reluctance; but this soon wore off as he met man after man
+whom he knew, who failed to recognize him. In truth, so many things had
+happened, that the memory of the man who, long ago, had been given up as
+dead had passed out of mind. The people would have been no more
+surprised to see a sleeper of the village cemetery among them than they
+would to have realized that they were talking with the insane pauper who
+had fled, as they supposed, to find his death in the forest.
+
+They had a great deal to do during the day, and when night came, Jim
+could no longer be restrained from the visit that gave significance, not
+only to his journey, but to all his plans. Not a woman had been seen on
+the street during the day whom Jim had not scanned with an anxious and
+greedy look, in the hope of seeing the one figure that was the desire of
+his eyes--but he had not seen it. Was she ill? Had she left Sevenoaks?
+He would not inquire, but he would know before he slept.
+
+"There's a little business as must be did afore I go," said Jim, to Mr.
+Benedict in the evening, "an' I sh'd like to have ye go with me, if ye
+feel up to't." Mr. Benedict felt up to it, and the two went out
+together. They walked along the silent street, and saw the great mill,
+ablaze with light. The mist from the falls showed white in the frosty
+air, and, without saying a word, they crossed the bridge, and climbed a
+hill dotted with little dwellings.
+
+Jim's heart was in his mouth, for his fears that ill had happened to the
+little tailoress had made him nervous; and when, at length, he caught
+sight of the light in her window, he grasped Mr. Benedict by the arm
+almost fiercely, and exclaimed:
+
+"It's all right. The little woman's in, an' waitin'. Can you see my
+har?"
+
+Having been assured that it was in a presentable condition, Jim walked
+boldly up to the door and knocked. Having been admitted by the same girl
+who had received him before, there was no need to announce his name.
+Both men went into the little parlor of the house, and the girl in great
+glee ran upstairs to inform Miss Butterworth that there were two men and
+a dog in waiting, who wished to see her. Miss Butterworth came down from
+busy work, like one in a hurry, and was met by Jim with extended hand,
+and the gladdest smile that ever illuminated a human face.
+
+"How fare ye, little woman?" said he. "I'm glad to see ye--gladder nor I
+can tell ye."
+
+There was something in the greeting so hearty, so warm and tender and
+full of faith, that Miss Butterworth was touched. Up to that moment he
+had made no impression upon her heart, and, quite to her surprise, she
+found that she was glad to see him. She had had a world of trouble since
+she had met Jim, and the great, wholesome nature, fresh from the woods,
+and untouched by the trials of those with whom she was in daily
+association, was like a breeze in the feverish summer, fresh from the
+mountains. She was, indeed, glad to see him, and surprised by the warmth
+of the sentiment that sprang within her heart in response to his
+greeting.
+
+Miss Butterworth looked inquiringly, and with some embarrassment at the
+stranger.
+
+"That's one o' yer old friends, little woman," said Jim. "Don't give 'im
+the cold shoulder. 'Tain't every day as a feller comes to ye from the
+other side o' Jordan."
+
+Miss Butterworth naturally suspected the stranger's identity, and was
+carefully studying his face to assure herself that Mr. Benedict was
+really in her presence. When some look of his eyes, or motion of his
+body, brought her the conclusive evidence of his identity, she grasped
+both his hands, and said:
+
+"Dear, dear, Mr. Benedict! how much you have suffered! I thank God for
+you, and for the good friend He has raised up to help you. It's like
+seeing one raised from the dead."
+
+Then she sat down at his side, and, apparently forgetting Jim, talked
+long and tenderly of the past. She remembered Mrs. Benedict so well! And
+she had so many times carried flowers and placed them upon her grave!
+She told him about the troubles in the town, and the numbers of poor
+people who had risked their little all and lost it in the great
+speculation; of those who were still hoping against hope that they
+should see their hard-earned money again; of the execrations that were
+already beginning to be heaped upon Mr. Belcher; of the hard winter that
+lay before the village, and the weariness of sympathy which had begun to
+tell upon her energies. Life, which had been once so full of the
+pleasure of action and industry, was settling, more and more, into dull
+routine, and she could see nothing but trouble ahead, for herself and
+for all those in whom she was interested.
+
+Mr. Benedict, for the first time since Jim had rescued him from the
+alms-house, became wholly himself. The sympathy of a woman unlocked his
+heart, and he talked in his old way. He alluded to his early trials with
+entire freedom, to his long illness and mental alienation, to his hopes
+for his boy, and especially to his indebtedness to Jim. On this latter
+point he poured out his whole heart, and Jim himself was deeply affected
+by the revelation of his gratitude. He tried in vain to protest, for
+Mr. Benedict, having found his tongue, would not pause until he had laid
+his soul bare before his benefactor. The effect that the presence of the
+sympathetic woman produced upon his _protege_ put a new thought into
+Jim's mind. He could not resist the conviction that the two were suited
+to one another, and that the "little woman," as he tenderly called her,
+would be happier with the inventor than she would be with him. It was
+not a pleasant thought, but even then he cast aside his selfishness with
+a great struggle, and determined that he would not stand in the way of
+an event which would crush his fondest hopes. Jim did not know women as
+well as he thought he did. He did not see that the two met more like two
+women than like representatives of opposite sexes. He did not see that
+the sympathy between the pair was the sympathy of two natures which
+would be the happiest in dependence, and that Miss Butterworth could no
+more have chosen Mr. Benedict for a husband than she could have chosen
+her own sister.
+
+Mr. Benedict had never been informed by Jim of the name of the woman
+whom he hoped to make his wife, but he saw at once, and with sincere
+pleasure, that he was in her presence; and when he had finished what he
+had to say to her, and again heartily expressed his pleasure in renewing
+her acquaintance, he rose to go.
+
+"Jim, I will not cut your call short, but I must get back, to my room
+and prepare for to-morrow's journey. Let me leave you here, and find my
+way back to my lodgings alone."
+
+"All right," said Jim, "but we ain't goin' home to-morrer."
+
+Benedict bade Miss Butterworth "good-night," but, as he was passing out
+of the room, Jim remembered that there was something that he wished to
+say to him, and so passed out with him, telling Miss Butterworth that he
+should soon return.
+
+When the door closed behind them, and they stood alone in the darkness,
+Jim said, with his hand on his companion's shoulder, and an awful lie in
+his throat:
+
+"I brung ye here hopin' ye'd take a notion to this little woman. She'd
+do more for ye nor anybody else. She can make yer clo'es, and be good
+company for ye, an'--"
+
+"And provide for me. No, that won't do, Jim."
+
+"Well, you'd better think on't."
+
+"No, Jim, I shall never marry again."
+
+"Now's yer time. Nobody knows what'll happen afore mornin'."
+
+"I understand you, Jim," said Mr. Benedict, "and I know what all this
+costs you. You are worthy of her, and I hope you'll get her."
+
+Mr. Benedict tore himself away, but Jim said, "hold on a bit."
+
+Benedict turned, and then Jim inquired:
+
+"Have ye got a piece of Indian rubber?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then jest rub out the picter of the little feller in front of the
+stoop, an' put in Turk. If so be as somethin' happens to-night, I sh'd
+want to show her the plans in the mornin'; an' if she should ax me whose
+little feller it was, it would be sort o' cumbersome to tell her, an' I
+sh'd have to lie my way out on't."
+
+Mr. Benedict promised to attend to the matter before he slept, and then
+Jim went back into the house.
+
+Of the long conversation that took place that night between the woodsman
+and the little tailoress we shall present no record. That he pleaded his
+case well and earnestly, and without a great deal of bashfulness, will
+be readily believed by those who have made his acquaintance. That the
+woman, in her lonely circumstances, and with her hungry heart, could
+lightly refuse the offer of his hand and life was an impossibility. From
+the hour of his last previous visit she had unconsciously gone toward
+him in her affections, and when she met him she learned, quite to her
+own surprise, that her heart had found its home. He had no culture, but
+his nature was manly. He had little education, but his heart was true,
+and his arm was strong. Compared with Mr. Belcher, with all his wealth,
+he was nobility personified. Compared with the sordid men around her,
+with whom he would be an object of supercilious contempt, he seemed like
+a demigod. His eccentricities, his generosities, his originalities of
+thought and fancy, were a feast to her. There was more of him than she
+could find in any of her acquaintances--more that was fresh, piquant,
+stimulating, and vitally appetizing. Having once come into contact with
+him, the influence of his presence had remained, and it was with a
+genuine throb of pleasure that she found herself with him again.
+
+When he left her that night, he left her in tears. Bending over her,
+with his strong hands holding her cheeks tenderly, as she looked up into
+his eyes, he kissed her forehead.
+
+"Little woman," said he, "I love ye. I never knowed what love was afore,
+an' if this is the kind o' thing they have in heaven, I want to go there
+when you do. Speak a good word for me when ye git a chance."
+
+Jim walked on air all the way back to his lodgings--walked by his
+lodgings--stood still, and looked up at the stars--went out to the
+waterfall, and watched the writhing, tumbling, roaring river--wrapped in
+transcendent happiness. Transformed and transfused by love, the world
+around him seemed quite divine. He had stumbled upon the secret of his
+existence. He had found the supreme charm of life. He felt that a new
+principle had sprung to action within him, which had in it the power to
+work miracles of transformation. He could never be in the future exactly
+what he had been in the past. He had taken a step forward and upward--a
+step irretraceable.
+
+Jim had never prayed, but there was something about this experience that
+lifted his heart upward. He looked up to the stars, and said to himself:
+"He's somewhere up thar, I s'pose. I can't seen 'im, an' I must look
+purty small to Him if He can seen me; but I hope He knows as I'm
+obleeged to 'im, more nor I can tell 'im. When He made a good woman, He
+did the biggest thing out, an' when He started a man to lovin' on her,
+He set up the best business that was ever did. I hope He likes the
+'rangement, and won't put nothin' in the way on't. Amen! I'm goin' to
+bed."
+
+Jim put his last determination into immediate execution. He found Mr.
+Benedict in his first nap, from which he felt obliged to rouse him, with
+the information that it was "all right," and that the quicker the house
+was finished the better it would be for all concerned.
+
+The next morning, Turk having been substituted for the child in the
+foreground of the front elevation of the hotel, the two men went up to
+Miss Butterworth's, and exhibited and talked over the plans. They
+received many valuable hints from the prospective mistress of the
+prospective mansion. The stoop was to be made broader for the
+accommodation of visitors; more room for wardrobes was suggested, with
+little conveniences for housekeeping, which complicated the plans not a
+little. Mr. Benedict carefully noted them all, to be wrought out at his
+leisure.
+
+Jim's love had wrought a miracle in the night. He had said nothing about
+it to his architect, but it had lifted him above the bare utilities of a
+house, so that he could see the use of beauty. "Thar's one thing," said
+he, "as thar hain't none on us thought on; but it come to me last night.
+There's a place where the two ruffs come together that wants somethin',
+an' it seems to me it's a cupalo--somethin' to stan' up over the whole
+thing, and say to them as comes, 'Hallelujer!' We've done a good deal
+for house-keepin', now let's do somethin' for glory. It's jest like a
+ribbon on a bonnet, or a blow on a potato-vine. It sets it off, an'
+makes a kind o' Fourth o' July for it. What do ye say, little woman?"
+
+The "little woman" accepted the suggestion, and admitted that it would
+at least make the building look more like a hotel.
+
+All the details settled, the two men went away, and poor Benedict had a
+rough time in getting back to camp. Jim could hardly restrain himself
+from going through in a single day, so anxious was he to get at his
+traps and resume work upon the house. There was no fatigue too great for
+him now. The whole world was bright and full of promise; and he could
+not have been happier or more excited if he had been sure that at the
+year's end a palace and a princess were to be the reward of his
+enterprise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+WHICH INTRODUCES SEVERAL RESIDENTS OF SEVENOAKS TO THE METROPOLIS AND A
+NEW CHARACTER TO THE READER.
+
+
+Harry Benedict was in the great city. When his story was known by Mrs.
+Balfour--a quiet, motherly woman--and she was fully informed of her
+husband's plans concerning him, she received him with a cordiality and
+tenderness which won his heart and made him entirely at home. The
+wonders of the shops, the wonders of the streets, the wonders of the
+places of public amusement, the music of the churches, the inspiration
+of the great tides of life that swept by him on every side, were in such
+sharp contrast to the mean conditions to which he had been accustomed,
+that he could hardly sleep. Indeed, the dreams of his unquiet slumbers
+were formed of less attractive constituents than the visions of his
+waking hours. He had entered a new world, which stimulated his
+imagination, and furnished him with marvelous materials for growth. He
+had been transformed by the clothing of the lad whose place he had taken
+into a city boy, difficult to be recognized by those who had previously
+known him. He hardly knew himself, and suspected his own consciousness
+of cheating him.
+
+For several days he had amused himself in his leisure hours by watching
+a huge house opposite to that of the Balfours, into which was pouring a
+stream of furniture. Huge vans were standing in front of it, or coming
+and departing, from morning until night, Dressing-cases, book-cases,
+chairs, mirrors, candelabra, beds, tables--everything necessary and
+elegant in the furniture of a palace, were unloaded and carried in. All
+day long, too, he could see through the large windows the active figure
+and beautiful face of a woman who seemed to direct and control the
+movements of all who were engaged in the work.
+
+The Balfours had noticed the same thing; but, beyond wondering who was
+rich or foolish enough to purchase and furnish Palgrave's Folly, they
+had given the matter no attention. They were rich, of good family, of
+recognized culture and social importance, and it did not seem to them
+that any one whom they would care to know would be willing to occupy a
+house so pronounced in vulgar display. They were people whose society no
+money could buy. If Robert Belcher had been worth a hundred millions
+instead of one, the fact would not have been taken into consideration in
+deciding any social question relating to him.
+
+Finally the furnishing was complete; the windows were polished, the
+steps were furbished, and nothing seemed to wait but the arrival of the
+family for which the dwelling had been prepared.
+
+One late afternoon, before the lamps were lighted in the streets, he
+could see that the house was illuminated; and just as the darkness came
+on, a carriage drove up and a family alighted. The doors were thrown
+open, the beautiful woman stood upon the threshold, and all ran up to
+enter. She kissed the lady of the house, kissed the children, shook
+hands cordially with the gentleman of the party, and then the doors were
+swung to, and they were shut from the sight of the street; but just as
+the man entered, the light from the hall and the light from the street
+revealed the flushed face and portly figure of Robert Belcher.
+
+Harry knew him, and ran down stairs to Mrs. Balfour, pale and agitated
+as if he had seen a ghost. "It is Mr. Belcher," he said, "and I must go
+back. I know he'll find me; I must go back to-morrow."
+
+It was a long time before the family could pacify him and assure him of
+their power to protect him; but they did it at last, though they left
+him haunted with the thought that he might be exposed at any moment to
+the new companions of his life as a pauper and the son of a pauper. The
+great humiliation had been burned into his soul. The petty tyrannies of
+Tom Buffum had cowed him, so that it would be difficult for him ever to
+emerge from their influence into a perfectly free boyhood and manhood.
+Had they been continued long enough, they would have ruined him. Once he
+had been entirely in the power of adverse circumstances and a brutal
+will, and he was almost incurably wounded.
+
+The opposite side of the street presented very different scenes. Mrs.
+Belcher found, through the neighborly services of Mrs. Dillingham, that
+her home was all prepared for her, even to the selection and engagement
+of her domestic service. A splendid dinner was ready to be served, for
+which Mr. Belcher, who had been in constant communication with his
+convenient and most officious friend, had brought the silver; and the
+first business was to dispose of it. Mrs. Dillingham led the mistress of
+the house to her seat, distributed the children, and amused them all by
+the accounts she gave them of her efforts to make their entrance and
+welcome satisfactory. Mrs. Belcher observed her quietly, acknowledged to
+herself the woman's personal charms--her beauty, her wit, her humor, her
+sprightliness, and her more than neighborly service; but her quick,
+womanly instincts detected something which she did not like. She saw
+that Mr. Belcher was fascinated by her, and that he felt that she had
+rendered him and the family a service for which great gratitude was due;
+but she saw that the object of his admiration was selfish--that she
+loved power, delighted in having things her own way, and, more than all,
+was determined to place the mistress of the house under obligations to
+her. It would have been far more agreeable to Mrs. Belcher to find
+everything in confusion, than to have her house brought into habitable
+order by a stranger in whom she had no trust, and upon whom she had no
+claim. Mr. Belcher had bought the house without her knowledge; Mrs.
+Dillingham had arranged it without her supervision. She seemed to
+herself to be simply a child, over whose life others had assumed the
+offices of administration.
+
+Mrs. Belcher was weary, and she would have been delighted to be alone
+with her family, but here was an intruder whom she could not dispose of.
+She would have been glad to go over the house alone, and to have had the
+privilege of discovery, but she must go with one who was bent on showing
+her everything, and giving her reasons for all that had been done.
+
+Mrs. Dillingham was determined to play her cards well with Mrs. Belcher.
+She was sympathetic, confidential, most respectful; but she found that
+lady very quiet. Mr. Belcher followed them from room to room, with wider
+eyes for Mrs. Dillingham than for the details of his new home. Now he
+could see them together--the mother of his children, and the woman who
+had already won his heart away from her. The shapely lady, with her
+queenly ways, her vivacity, her graceful adaptiveness to persons and
+circumstances, was sharply contrasted with the matronly figure, homely
+manners, and unresponsive mind of his wife. He pitied his wife, he
+pitied himself, he pitied his children, he almost pitied the dumb walls
+and the beautiful furniture around him.
+
+Was Mrs. Dillingham conscious of the thoughts which possessed him? Did
+she know that she was leading him around his house, in her assumed
+confidential intimacy with his wife, as she would lead a spaniel by a
+silken cord? Was she aware that, as she moved side by side with Mrs.
+Belcher, through the grand rooms, she was displaying herself to the best
+advantage to her admirer, and that, yoked with the wifehood and
+motherhood of the house, she was dragging, while he held, the plow that
+was tilling the deep carpets for tares that might be reaped in harvests
+of unhappiness? Would she have dropped the chain if she had? Not she.
+
+To fascinate, and make a fool of, a man who was strong and cunning in
+his own sphere; to have a hand--gloved in officious friendship--in other
+lives, furnished the zest of her unemployed life. She could introduce
+discord into a family without even acknowledging to herself that she had
+done it wittingly. She could do it, and weep over the injustice that
+charged her with it. Her motives were always pure! She had always done
+her best to serve her friends! and what were her rewards? So the
+victories which she won by her smiles, she made permanent by her tears.
+So the woman by whose intrigues the mischief came was transformed into a
+victim, from whose shapely shoulders the garment of blame slipped off,
+that society might throw over them the robes of its respectful
+commiseration, and thus make her more interesting and lovely than
+before!
+
+Mrs. Belcher measured very carefully, or apprehended very readily, the
+kind of woman she had to deal with, and felt at once that she was no
+match for her. She saw that she could not shake her off, so long as it
+was her choice to remain. She received from her no direct offense,
+except the offense of her uninvited presence; but the presence meant
+service, and so could not be resented. And Mrs. Belcher could be of so
+much service to her! Her life was so lonely--so meaningless! It would be
+such a joy to her, in a city full of shams, to have one friend who would
+take her good offices, and so help to give to her life a modicum of
+significance!
+
+After a full survey of the rooms, and a discussion of the beauties and
+elegancies of the establishment, they all descended to the dining-room,
+and, in response to Mrs. Dillingham's order, were served with tea.
+
+"You really must excuse me, Mrs. Belcher," said the beautiful lady
+deprecatingly, "but I have been here for a week, and it seems so much
+like my own home, that I ordered the tea without thinking that I am the
+guest and you are the mistress."
+
+"Certainly, and I am really very much obliged to you;" and then feeling
+that she had been a little untrue to herself, Mrs. Belcher added
+bluntly: "I feel myself in a very awkward situation--obliged to one on
+whom I have no claim, and one whom I can never repay."
+
+"The reward of a good deed is in the doing, I assure you," said Mrs.
+Dillingham, sweetly. "All I ask is that you make me serviceable to you.
+I know all about the city, and all about its ways. You can call upon me
+for anything; and now let's talk about the house. Isn't it lovely?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Belcher, "too lovely. While so many are poor around us,
+it seems almost like an insult to them to live in such a place, and
+flaunt our wealth in their faces. Mr. Belcher is very generous toward
+his family, and I have no wish to complain, but I would exchange it all
+for my little room in Sevenoaks."
+
+Mr. Belcher, who had been silent and had watched with curious and
+somewhat anxious eyes the introductory passage of this new acquaintance,
+was rasped by Mrs. Belcher's remark into saying: "That's Mrs. Belcher,
+all over! that's the woman, through and through! As if a man hadn't a
+right to do what he chooses with his money! If men are poor, why don't
+they get rich? They have the same chance I had; and there isn't one of
+'em but would be glad to change places with me, and flaunt his wealth in
+my face. There's a precious lot of humbug about the poor which won't
+wash with me. We're all alike."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham shook her lovely head.
+
+"You men are so hard," she said; "and Mrs. Belcher has the right
+feeling; but I'm sure she takes great comfort in helping the poor. What
+would you do, my dear, if you had no money to help the poor with?"
+
+"That's just what I've asked her a hundred times," said Mr. Belcher.
+"What would she do? That's something she never thinks of."
+
+Mrs. Belcher shook her head, in return, but made no reply. She knew that
+the poor would have been better off if Mr. Belcher had never lived, and
+that the wealth which surrounded her with luxuries was taken from the
+poor. It was this, at the bottom, that made her sad, and this that had
+filled her for many years with discontent.
+
+When the tea was disposed of, Mrs. Dillingham rose to go. She lived a
+few blocks distant, and it was necessary for Mr. Belcher to walk home
+with her. This he was glad to do, though she assured him that it was
+entirely unnecessary. When they were in the street, walking at a slow
+pace, the lady, in her close, confiding way, said:
+
+"Do you know, I take a great fancy to Mrs. Belcher?"
+
+"Do you, really?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. I think she's lovely; but I'm afraid she doesn't like me.
+I can read--oh, I can read pretty well. She certainly didn't like it
+that I had arranged everything and was there to meet her. But wasn't she
+tired? Wasn't she very tired? There certainly was something that was
+wrong."
+
+"I think your imagination had something to do with it," said Mr.
+Belcher, although he knew that she was right.
+
+"No, I can read;" and Mrs. Dillingham's voice trembled. "If she could
+only know how honestly I have tried to serve her, and how disappointed I
+am that my service has not been taken in good part, I am sure that her
+amiable heart would forgive me."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham took out her handkerchief, near a street lamp, and wiped
+her eyes.
+
+What could Mr. Belcher do with this beautiful, susceptible, sensitive
+creature? What could he do but reassure her? Under the influence of her
+emotion, his wife's offense grew flagrant, and he began by apologizing
+for her, and ended by blaming her.
+
+"Oh! she was tired--she was very tired. That was all. I've laid up
+nothing against her; but you know I was disappointed, after I had done
+so much. I shall be all over it in the morning, and she will see it
+differently then. I don't know but I should have been troubled to find
+a stranger in my house. I think I should. Now, you really must promise
+not to say a word of all this talk to your poor wife. I wouldn't have
+you do it for the world. If you are my friend (pressing his arm), you
+will let the matter drop just where it is. Nothing would induce me to be
+the occasion of any differences in your home."
+
+So it was a brave, true, magnanimous nature that was leaning so tenderly
+upon Mr. Belcher's arm! And he felt that no woman who was not either
+shabbily perverse, or a fool, could misinterpret her. He knew that his
+wife had been annoyed at finding Mrs. Dillingham in the house. He dimly
+comprehended, too, that her presence was an indelicate intrusion, but
+her intentions were so good!
+
+Mrs. Dillingham knew exactly how to manipulate the coarse man at her
+side, and her relations to him and his wife. Her bad wisdom was not the
+result of experience, though she had had enough of it, but the product
+of an instinct which was just as acute, and true, and serviceable, ten
+years earlier in her life as it was then. She timed the walk to her
+purpose; and when Mr. Belcher parted with her, he went back leisurely to
+his great house, more discontented with his wife than he had ever been.
+To find such beauty, such helpfulness, such sympathy, charity,
+forbearance, and sensitiveness, all combined in one woman, and that
+woman kind and confidential toward him, brought back to him the days of
+his youth, in the excitement of a sentiment which he had supposed was
+lost beyond recall.
+
+He crossed the street on arriving at his house, and took an evening
+survey of his grand mansion, whose lights were still flaming through the
+windows. The passengers jostled him as he looked up at his dwelling, his
+thoughts wandering back to the woman with whom he had so recently
+parted.
+
+He knew that his heart was dead toward the woman who awaited his return.
+He felt that it was almost painfully alive toward the one he had left
+behind him, and it was with the embarrassment of conscious guilt that
+he rang the bell at his own door, and stiffened himself to meet the
+honest woman who had borne his children. Even the graceless touch of an
+intriguing woman's power--even the excitement of something like love
+toward one who was unworthy of his love--had softened him, so that his
+conscience could move again. He felt that his eyes bore a secret, and he
+feared that his wife could read it. And yet, who was to blame? Was
+anybody to blame? Could anything that had happened have been helped or
+avoided?
+
+He entered, determining to abide by Mrs. Dillingham's injunction of
+silence. He found the servants extinguishing the lights, and met the
+information that Mrs. Belcher had retired. His huge pile of trunks had
+come during his absence, and remained scattered in the hall. The sight
+offended him, but, beyond a muttered curse, he said nothing, and sought
+his bed.
+
+Mr. Belcher was not in good humor when he rose the next morning. He
+found the trunks where he left them on the previous evening; and when he
+called for the servants to carry them upstairs, he was met by open
+revolt. They were not porters, and they would not lift boxes; that sort
+of work was not what they were engaged for. No New York family expected
+service of that kind from those who were not hired for it.
+
+The proprietor, who had been in the habit of exacting any service from
+any man or woman in his employ that he desired, was angry. He would have
+turned every one of them out of the house, if it had not been so
+inconvenient for him to lose them then. Curses trembled upon his lips,
+but he curbed them, inwardly determining to have his revenge when the
+opportunity should arise. The servants saw his eyes, and went back to
+their work somewhat doubtful as to whether they had made a judicious
+beginning. They were sure they had not, when, two days afterward, every
+one of them was turned out of the house, and a new set installed in
+their places.
+
+He called for Phipps, and Phipps was at the stable. Putting on his hat,
+he went to bring his faithful servitor of Sevenoaks, and bidding him
+find a porter in the streets and remove the trunks at Mrs. Belcher's
+direction, he sat down at the window to watch for a passing newsboy. The
+children came down, cross and half sick with their long ride and their
+late dinner. Then it came on to rain in a most dismal fashion, and he
+saw before him a day of confinement and ennui. Without mental
+resource--unable to find any satisfaction except in action and
+intrigue--the prospect was anything but pleasant. The house was large,
+and, on a dark day, gloomy. His humor was not sweetened by noticing
+evidences of tears on Mrs. Belcher's face. The breakfast was badly
+cooked, and he rose from it exasperated. There was no remedy but to go
+out and call upon Mrs. Dillingham. He took an umbrella, and, telling his
+wife that he was going out on business, he slammed the door behind him
+and went down the steps.
+
+As he reached the street, he saw a boy scudding along under an umbrella,
+with a package under his arm. Taking him for a newsboy, he called;
+"Here, boy! Give me some papers." The lad had so shielded his face from
+the rain and the house that he had not seen Mr. Belcher; and when he
+looked up he turned pale, and simply said: "I'm not a newsboy;" and then
+he ran away as if he were frightened.
+
+There was something in the look that arrested Mr. Belcher's attention.
+He was sure he had seen the lad before, but where, he could not
+remember. The face haunted him--haunted him for hours, even when in the
+cheerful presence of Mrs. Dillingham, with whom he spent a long and
+delightful hour. She was rosy, and sweet, and sympathetic in her morning
+wrapper--more charming, indeed, than he had ever seen her in evening
+dress. She inquired for Mrs. Belcher and the children, and heard with
+great good humor his account of his first collision with his New York
+servants. When he went out from her inspiring and gracious presence he
+found his self-complacency restored. He had simply been hungry for her;
+so his breakfast was complete. He went back to his house with a mingled
+feeling of jollity and guilt, but the moment he was with his family the
+face of the boy returned. Where had he seen him? Why did the face give
+him uneasiness? Why did he permit himself to be puzzled by it? No
+reasoning, no diversion could drive it from his mind. Wherever he turned
+during the long day and evening that white, scared face obtruded itself
+upon him. He had noticed, as the lad lifted his umbrella, that he
+carried a package of books under his arm, and naturally concluded that,
+belated by the rain, he was on his way to school. He determined,
+therefore, to watch him on the following morning, his own eyes
+reinforced by those of his oldest boy.
+
+The dark day passed away at last, and things were brought into more
+homelike order by the wife of the house, so that the evening was cozy
+and comfortable; and when the street lamps were lighted again and the
+stars came out, and the north wind sounded its trumpet along the avenue,
+the spirits of the family rose to the influence.
+
+On the following morning, as soon as he had eaten his breakfast, he,
+with his boy, took a position at one of the windows, to watch for the
+lad whose face had so impressed and puzzled him. On the other side of
+the avenue a tall man came out, with a green bag under his arm, stepped
+into a passing stage, and rolled away. Ten minutes later two lads
+emerged with their books slung over their shoulders, and crossed toward
+them.
+
+"That's the boy--the one on the left," said Mr. Belcher. At the same
+moment the lad looked up, and apparently saw the two faces watching him,
+for he quickened his pace.
+
+"That's Harry Benedict," exclaimed Mr. Belcher's son and heir. The words
+were hardly out of his mouth when Mr. Belcher started from his chair,
+ran down-stairs with all the speed possible within the range of safety,
+and intercepted the lads at a side door, which opened upon the street
+along which they were running.
+
+"Stop, Harry, I want to speak to you," said the proprietor, sharply.
+
+Harry stopped, as if frozen to the spot in mortal terror.
+
+"Come along," said Thede Balfour, tugging at his hand, "you'll be late
+at school."
+
+Poor Harry could no more have walked than he could have flown. Mr.
+Belcher saw the impression he had made upon him, and became soft and
+insinuating in his manner.
+
+"I'm glad to see you, my boy," said Mr. Belcher. "Come into the house,
+and see the children. They all remember you, and they are all homesick.
+They'll be glad to look at anything from Sevenoaks."
+
+Harry was not reassured: he was only more intensely frightened. A giant,
+endeavoring to entice him into his cave in the woods, would not have
+terrified him more. At length he found his tongue sufficiently to say
+that he was going to school, and could not go in.
+
+It was easy for Mr. Belcher to take his hand, limp and trembling with
+fear, and under the guise of friendliness to lead him up the steps, and
+take him to his room. Thede watched them until they disappeared, and
+then ran back to his home, and reported what had taken place. Mrs.
+Balfour was alone, and could do nothing. She did not believe that Mr.
+Belcher would dare to treat the lad foully, with the consciousness that
+his disappearance within his house had been observed, and wisely
+determined to do nothing but sit down at her window and watch the house.
+
+Placing Harry in a chair, Mr. Belcher sat down opposite to him, and
+said:
+
+"My boy, I'm very glad to see you. I've wanted to know about you more
+than any boy in the world. I suppose you've been told that I am a very
+bad man, but I'll prove to you that I'm not. There, put that ten-dollar
+gold piece in your pocket. That's what they call an eagle, and I hope
+you'll have a great many like it when you grow up."
+
+The lad hid his hands behind his back, and shook his head.
+
+"You don't mean to say that you won't take it!" said the proprietor in
+a wheedling tone.
+
+The boy kept his hands behind him, and shook his head.
+
+"Well, I suppose you are not to blame for disliking me; and now I want
+you to tell me all about your getting away from the poor-house, and who
+helped you out, and where your poor, dear father is, and all about it.
+Come, now, you don't know how much we looked for you, and how we all
+gave you up for lost. You don't know what a comfort it is to see you
+again, and to know that you didn't die in the woods."
+
+The boy simply shook his head.
+
+"Do you know who Mr. Belcher is? Do you know he is used to having people
+mind him? Do you know that you're here in my house, and that you _must_
+mind me? Do you know what I do to little boys when they disobey me? Now,
+I want you to answer my questions, and do it straight. Lying won't go
+down with me. Who helped you and your father to get out of the
+poor-house?"
+
+Matters had proceeded to a desperate pass with the lad. He had thought
+very fast, and he had determined that no bribe and no threat should
+extort a word of information from him. His cheeks grew hot and flushed,
+his eyes burned, and he straightened himself in his chair as if he
+expected death or torture, and was prepared to meet either, as he
+replied:
+
+"I won't tell you."
+
+"Is your father alive? Tell me, you dirty little whelp? Don't say that
+you won't do what I bid you to do again. I have a great mind to choke
+you. Tell me--is your father alive?"
+
+"I won't tell you, if you kill me."
+
+The wheedling had failed; the threatening had failed. Then Mr. Belcher
+assumed the manner of a man whose motives had been misconstrued, and who
+wished for information that he might do a kind act to the lad's father.
+
+"I should really like to help your father, and if he is poor, money
+would do him a great deal of good. And here is the little boy who does
+not love his father well enough to get money for him, when he can have
+it and welcome! The little boy is taken care of. He has plenty to eat,
+and good clothes to wear, and lives in a fine house, but his poor father
+can take care of himself. I think such a boy as that ought to be ashamed
+of himself. I think he ought to kneel down and say his prayers. If I had
+a boy who could do that, I should be sorry that he'd ever been born."
+
+Harry was proof against this mode of approach also, and was relieved,
+because he saw that Mr. Belcher was baffled. His instincts were quick,
+and they told him that he was the victor. In the meantime Mr. Belcher
+was getting hot. He had closed the door of his room, while a huge coal
+fire was burning in the grate. He rose and opened the door. Harry
+watched the movement, and descried the grand staircase beyond his
+persecutor, as the door swung back. He had looked into the house while
+passing, during the previous week, and knew the relations of the
+staircase to the entrance on the avenue. His determination was
+instantaneously made, and Mr. Belcher was conscious of a swift figure
+that passed under his arm, and was half down the staircase before he
+could move or say a word. Before he cried "stop him!" Harry's hand was
+on the fastening of the door, and when he reached the door, the boy was
+half across the street.
+
+He had calculated on smoothing over the rough places of the interview,
+and preparing a better report of the visit of the lad's friends on the
+other side of the avenue, but the matter had literally slipped through
+his fingers. He closed the door after the retreating boy, and went back
+to his room without deigning to answer the inquiries that were excited
+by his loud command to "stop him."
+
+Sitting down, and taking to himself his usual solace, and smoking
+furiously for a while, he said: "D---n!" Into this one favorite and
+familiar expletive he poured his anger, his vexation, and his fear. He
+believed at the moment that the inventor was alive. He believed that if
+he had been dead his boy would, in some way, have revealed the fact.
+Was he still insane? Had he powerful friends? It certainly appeared so.
+Otherwise, how could the lad be where he had discovered him? Was it
+rational to suppose that he was far from his father? Was it rational to
+suppose that the lad's friends were not equally the friends of the
+inventor? How could he know that Robert Belcher himself had not
+unwittingly come to the precise locality where he would be under
+constant surveillance? How could he know that a deeply laid plot was not
+already at work to undermine and circumvent him? The lad's reticence,
+determined and desperate, showed that he knew the relations that existed
+between his father and the proprietor, and seemed to show that he had
+acted under orders.
+
+Something must be done to ascertain the residence of Paul Benedict, if
+still alive, or to assure him of his death, if it had occurred.
+Something must be done to secure the property which he was rapidly
+accumulating. Already foreign Governments were considering the
+advantages of the Belcher rifle, as an arm for the military service, and
+negotiations were pending with more than one of them. Already his own
+Government, then in the first years of its great civil war, had
+experimented with it, with the most favorable results. The business was
+never so promising as it then appeared, yet it never had appeared so
+insecure.
+
+In the midst of his reflections, none of which were pleasant, and in a
+sort of undefined dread of the consequences of his indiscretions in
+connection with Harry Benedict, the bell rang, and Mr. and Mrs. Talbot
+were announced. The factor and his gracious lady were in fine spirits,
+and full of their congratulations over the safe removal of the family to
+their splendid mansion. Mrs. Talbot was sure that Mrs. Belcher must feel
+that all the wishes of her heart were gratified. There was really
+nothing like the magnificence of the mansion. Mrs. Belcher could only
+say that it was all very fine, but Mr. Belcher, finding himself an
+object of envy, took great pride in showing his visitors about the
+house.
+
+Mrs. Talbot, who in some way had ascertained that Mrs. Dillingham had
+superintended the arrangement of the house, said, in an aside to Mrs.
+Belcher: "It must have been a little lonely to come here and find no one
+to receive you--no friend, I mean."
+
+"Mrs. Dillingham was here," remarked Mrs. Belcher, quietly.
+
+"But she was no friend of yours."
+
+"No; Mr. Belcher had met her."
+
+"How strange! How very strange!"
+
+"Do you know her well?"
+
+"I'm afraid I do; but now, really, I hope you won't permit yourself to
+be prejudiced against her. I suppose she means well, but she certainly
+does the most unheard-of things. She's a restless creature--not quite
+right, you know, but she has been immensely flattered. She's an old
+friend of mine, and I don't join the hue and cry against her at all, but
+she does such imprudent things! What did she say to you?"
+
+Mrs. Belcher detected the spice of pique and jealousy in this charitable
+speech, and said very little in response--nothing that a mischief-maker
+could torture into an offense.
+
+Having worked her private pump until the well whose waters she sought
+refused to give up its treasures, Mrs. Talbot declared she would no
+longer embarrass the new house-keeping by her presence. She had only
+called to bid Mrs. Belcher welcome, and to assure her that if she had no
+friends in the city, there were hundreds of hospitable hearts that were
+ready to greet her. Then she and her husband went out, waved their
+adieus from their snug little coupe, and drove away.
+
+The call had diverted Mr. Belcher from his somber thoughts, and he
+summoned his carriage, and drove down town, where he spent his day in
+securing the revolution in his domestic service, already alluded to, in
+talking business with his factor, and in making acquaintances on
+'Change.
+
+"I'm going to be in the middle of this thing, one of those days," said
+he to Talbot as they strolled back to the counting-room of the latter,
+after a long walk among the brokers and bankers of Wall street. "If
+anybody supposes that I've come here to lie still, they don't know me.
+They'll wake up some fine morning and find a new hand at the bellows."
+
+Twilight found him at home again, where he had the supreme pleasure of
+turning his very independent servants out of his house into the street,
+and installing a set who knew, from the beginning, the kind of man they
+had to deal with, and conducted themselves accordingly.
+
+While enjoying his first cigar after dinner, a note was handed to him,
+which he opened and read. It was dated at the house across the avenue.
+He had expected and dreaded it, but he did not shrink like a coward from
+its persual. It read thus:
+
+"MR. ROBERT BELCHER: I have been informed of the shameful manner in
+which you treated a member of my family this morning--Master Harry
+Benedict. The bullying of a small boy is not accounted a dignified
+business for a man in the city which I learn you have chosen for your
+home, however it may be regarded in the little town from which you came.
+I do not propose to tolerate such conduct toward any dependent of mine.
+I do not ask for your apology, for the explanation was in my hands
+before the outrage was committed. I perfectly understand your relations
+to the lad, and trust that the time will come when the law will define
+them, so that the public will also understand them. Meantime, you will
+consult your own safety by letting him alone, and never presuming to
+repeat the scene of this morning.
+
+"Yours, JAMES BALFOUR,
+
+"Counselor-at-Law."
+
+"Hum! ha!" exclaimed Mr. Belcher, compressing his lips, and spitefully
+tearing the letter into small strips and throwing them into the fire.
+"Thank you, kind sir; I owe you one," said he, rising, and walking his
+room. "_That_ doesn't look very much as if Paul Benedict were alive.
+He's a counselor-at-law, he is; and he has inveigled a boy into his
+keeping, who, he supposes, has a claim on me; and he proposes to make
+some money out of it. Sharp game!"
+
+Mr. Belcher was interrupted in his reflections and his soliloquy by the
+entrance of a servant, with the information that there was a man at the
+door who wished to see him.
+
+"Show him up."
+
+The servant hesitated, and finally said: "He doesn't smell very well,
+sir."
+
+"What does he smell of?" inquired Mr. Belcher, laughing.
+
+"Rum, sir, and several things."
+
+"Send him away, then."
+
+"I tried to, sir, but he says he knows you, and wants to see you on
+particular business."
+
+"Take him into the basement, and tell him I'll be down soon."
+
+Mr. Belcher exhausted his cigar, tossed the stump into the fire, and,
+muttering to himself, "Who the devil!" went down to meet his caller.
+
+As he entered a sort of lobby in the basement that was used as a
+servants' parlor, his visitor rose, and stood with great shame-facedness
+before him. He did not extend his hand, but stood still, in his seedy
+clothes and his coat buttoned to his chin, to hide his lack of a shirt.
+The blue look of the cold street had changed to a hot purple under the
+influence of a softer atmosphere; and over all stood the wreck of a good
+face, and a head still grand in its outline.
+
+"Well, you look as if you were waiting to be damned," said Mr. Belcher,
+roughly.
+
+"I am, sir," responded the man solemnly.
+
+"Very well; consider the business done, so far as I am concerned, and
+clear out."
+
+"I am the most miserable of men, Mr. Belcher."
+
+"I believe you; and you'll excuse me if I say that your appearance
+corroborates your statement."
+
+"And you don't recognize me? Is it possible?" And the maudlin tears came
+into the man's rheumy eyes and rolled down his cheeks. "You knew me in
+better days, sir;" and his voice trembled with weak emotion.
+
+"No; I never saw you before. That game won't work, and now be off."
+
+"And you don't remember Yates?--Sam Yates--and the happy days we spent
+together in childhood?" And the man wept again, and wiped his eyes with
+his coat-sleeve.
+
+"Do you pretend to say that you are Sam Yates, the lawyer?"
+
+"The same, at your service."
+
+"What brought you to this?"
+
+"Drink, and bad company, sir."
+
+"And you want money?"
+
+"Yes!" exclaimed the man, with a hiss as fierce as if he were a serpent.
+
+"Do you want to earn money?"
+
+"Anything to get it."
+
+"Anything to get drink, I suppose. You said 'anything.' Did you mean
+that?"
+
+The man knew Robert Belcher, and he knew that the last question had a
+great deal more in it than would appear to the ordinary listener.
+
+"Lift me out of the gutter," said he, "and keep me out, and--command
+me."
+
+"I have a little business on hand," said Mr. Belcher, "that you can do,
+provided you will let your drink alone--a business that I am willing to
+pay for. Do you remember a man by the name of Benedict--a shiftless,
+ingenious dog, who once lived in Sevenoaks?"
+
+"Very well."
+
+"Should you know him again, were you to see him?"
+
+'I think I should."
+
+"Do you know you should? I don't want any thinking about it. Could you
+swear to him?"
+
+"Yes. I don't think it would trouble me to swear to him."
+
+"If I were to show you some of his handwriting, do you suppose that
+would help you any?"
+
+"It--might."
+
+"I don't want any 'mights.' Do you know it would?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you want to sell yourself--body, soul, brains, legal knowledge,
+everything--for money?"
+
+"I've sold myself already at a smaller price, and I don't mind
+withdrawing from the contract for a better."
+
+Mr. Belcher summoned a servant, and ordered something to eat for his
+visitor. While the man eagerly devoured his food, and washed it down
+with a cup of tea, Mr. Belcher went to his room, and wrote an order on
+his tailor for a suit of clothes, and a complete respectable outfit for
+the legal "dead beat" who was feasting himself below. When he descended,
+he handed him the paper, and gave him money for a bath and a night's
+lodging.
+
+"To-morrow morning I want you to come here clean, and dressed in the
+clothes that this paper will give you. If you drink one drop before that
+time I will strip the clothes from your back. Come to this room and get
+a decent breakfast. Remember that you can't fool me, and that I'll have
+none of your nonsense. If you are to serve me, and get any money out of
+it, you must keep sober."
+
+"I can keep sober--for a while--any way," said the man, hesitatingly and
+half despairingly.
+
+"Very well, now be off; and mind, if I ever hear a word of this, or any
+of our dealings outside, I'll thrash you as I would a dog. If you are
+true to me I can be of use to you. If you are not, I will kick you into
+the street."
+
+The man tottered to his feet, and said: "I am ashamed to say that you
+may command me. I should have scorned it once, but my chance is gone,
+and I could be loyal to the devil himself--for a consideration."
+
+The next morning Mr. Belcher was informed that Yates had breakfasted,
+and was awaiting orders. He descended to the basement, and stood
+confronted with a respectable-looking gentleman, who greeted him in a
+courtly way, yet with a deprecating look in his eyes, which said, as
+plainly as words could express; "don't humiliate me any more than you
+can help! Use me, but spare the little pride I have, if you can."
+
+The deprecatory look was lost upon Mr. Belcher. "Where did you get your
+clothes?" he inquired. "Come, now; give me the name of your tailor. I'm
+green in the city, you see."
+
+The man tried to smile, but the effort was a failure.
+
+"What did you take for a night-cap last night, eh?"
+
+"I give you my word of honor, sir, that I have not taken a drop since I
+saw you."
+
+"Word of honor! ha! ha! ha! Do you suppose I want your word of honor? Do
+you suppose I want a man of honor, anyway? If you have come here to talk
+about honor, you are no man for me. That's a sort of nonsense that I
+have no use for."
+
+"Very well; my word of dishonor," responded the man, desperately.
+
+"Now you talk. There's no use in such a man as you putting on airs, and
+forgetting that he wears my clothes and fills himself at my table."
+
+"I do not forget it, sir, and I see that I am not likely to."
+
+"Not while you do business with me; and now, sit down and hear me. The
+first thing you are to do is to ascertain whether Paul Benedict is dead.
+It isn't necessary that you should know my reasons. You are to search
+every insane hospital, public and private, in the city, and every
+alms-house. Put on your big airs and play philanthropist. Find all the
+records of the past year--the death records of the city--everything that
+will help to determine that the man is dead, as I believe he is. This
+will give you all you want to do for the present. The man's son is in
+the city, and the boy and the man left the Sevenoaks poor-house
+together. If the man is alive, he is likely to be near him. If he is
+dead he probably died near him. Find out, too, if you can, when his boy
+came to live at Balfour's over the way, and where he came from. You may
+stumble upon what I want very soon, or it may take you all winter. If
+you should fail then, I shall want you to take the road from here to
+Sevenoaks, and even to Number Nine, looking into all the alms-houses on
+the way. The great point is to find out whether he is alive or dead, and
+to know, if he is dead, where, and exactly when, he died. In the
+meantime, come to me every week with a written report of what you have
+done, and get your pay. Come always after dark, so that none of
+Balfour's people can see you. Begin the business, and carry it on in
+your own way. You are old and sharp enough not to need any aid from me,
+and now be off."
+
+The man took a roll of bills that Mr. Belcher handed him, and walked out
+of the door without a word. As he rose to the sidewalk, Mr. Balfour came
+out of the door opposite to him, with the evident intention of taking a
+passing stage. He nodded to Yates, whom he had not only known in other
+days, but had many times befriended, and the latter sneaked off down the
+street, while he, standing for a moment as if puzzled, turned, and with
+his latch-key re-entered his house. Yates saw the movement, and knew
+exactly what it meant. He only hoped that Mr. Belcher had not seen it,
+as, indeed, he had not, having been at the moment on his way upstairs.
+
+Yates knew that, with his good clothes on, the keen lawyer would give
+but one interpretation to the change, and that any hope or direct plan
+he might have with regard to ascertaining when the boy was received into
+the family, and where he came from, was nugatory. He would not tell Mr.
+Belcher this.
+
+Mr. Balfour called his wife to the window, pointed out the retreating
+form of Yates, gave utterance to his suspicions, and placed her upon her
+guard. Then he went to his office, as well satisfied that there was a
+mischievous scheme on foot as if he had overheard the conversation
+between Mr. Belcher and the man who had consented to be his tool.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+WHICH TELLS OF A GREAT PUBLIC MEETING IN SEVENOAKS, THE BURNING IN
+EFFIGY OF MR. BELCHER, AND THAT GENTLEMAN'S INTERVIEW WITH A REPORTER.
+
+
+Mr. Balfour, in his yearly journeys through Sevenoaks, had made several
+acquaintances among the citizens, and had impressed them as a man of
+ability and integrity; and, as he was the only New York lawyer of their
+acquaintance, they very naturally turned to him for information and
+advice. Without consulting each other, or informing each other of what
+they had done, at least half a dozen wrote to him the moment Mr. Belcher
+was out of the village, seeking information concerning the Continental
+Petroleum Company. They told him frankly about the enormous investments
+that they and their neighbors had made, and of their fears concerning
+the results. With a friendly feeling toward the people, he undertook, as
+far as possible, to get at the bottom of the matter, and sent a man to
+look up the property, and to find the men who nominally composed the
+Company.
+
+After a month had passed away and no dividend was announced, the people
+began to talk more freely among themselves. They had hoped against hope,
+and fought their suspicions until they were tired, and then they sought
+in sympathy to assuage the pangs of their losses and disappointments.
+
+It was not until the end of two months after Mr. Belcher's departure
+that a letter was received at Sevenoaks from Mr. Balfour, giving a
+history of the Company, which confirmed their worst fears. This history
+is already in the possession of the reader, but to that which has been
+detailed was added the information that, practically, the operations of
+the Company had been discontinued, and the men who formed it were
+scattered. Nothing had ever been earned, and the dividends which had
+been disbursed were taken out of the pockets of the principals, from
+moneys which they had received for stock. Mr. Belcher had absorbed half
+that had been received, at no cost to himself whatever, and had added
+the grand total to his already bulky fortune. It was undoubtedly a gross
+swindle, and was, from the first, intended to be such; but it was under
+the forms of law, and it was doubtful whether a penny could ever be
+recovered.
+
+Then, of course, the citizens held a public meeting--the great panacea
+for all the ills of village life in America. Nothing but a set of more
+or less impassioned speeches and a string of resolutions could express
+the indignation of Sevenoaks. A notice was posted for several days,
+inviting all the resident stockholders in the Continental to meet in
+council, to see what was to be done for the security of their interests.
+
+The little town-hall was full, and, scattered among the boisterous
+throng of men, were the pitiful faces and figures of poor women who had
+committed their little all to the grasp of the great scoundrel who had
+so recently despoiled and deserted them.
+
+The Rev. Mr. Snow was there, as became the pastor of a flock in which
+the wolf had made its ravages, and the meeting was opened with prayer,
+according to the usual custom. Considering the mood and temper of the
+people, a prayer for the spirit of forgiveness and fortitude would not
+have been out of place, but it is to be feared that it was wholly a
+matter of form. It is noticeable that at political conventions, on the
+eve of conflicts in which personal ambition and party chicanery play
+prominent parts; on the inauguration of great business enterprises in
+which local interests meet in the determined strifes of selfishness, and
+at a thousand gatherings whose objects leave God forgotten and right and
+justice out of consideration, the blessing of the Almighty is invoked,
+while men who are about to rend each other's reputations, and strive,
+without conscience, for personal and party masteries, bow reverent heads
+and mumble impatient "Amens."
+
+But the people of Sevenoaks wanted their money back, and that,
+certainly, was worth praying for. They wanted, also, to find some way to
+wreak their indignation upon Robert Belcher; and the very men who bowed
+in prayer after reaching the hall walked under an effigy of that person
+on their way thither, hung by the neck and dangling from a tree, and had
+rare laughter and gratification in the repulsive vision. They were
+angry, they were indignant, they were exasperated, and the more so
+because they were more than half convinced of their impotence, while
+wholly conscious that they had been decoyed to their destruction,
+befooled and overreached by one who knew how to appeal to a greed which
+his own ill-won successes and prosperities had engendered in them.
+
+After the prayer, the discussion began. Men rose, trying their best to
+achieve self-control, and to speak judiciously and judicially, but they
+were hurled, one after another, into the vortex of indignation, and
+cheer upon cheer shook the hall as they gave vent to the real feeling
+that was uppermost in their hearts.
+
+After the feeling of the meeting had somewhat expended itself, Mr. Snow
+rose to speak. In the absence of the great shadow under which he had
+walked during all his pastorate, and under the blighting influence of
+which his manhood had shriveled, he was once more independent. The
+sorrows and misfortunes of his people had greatly moved him. A sense of
+his long humiliation shamed him. He was poor, but he was once more his
+own; and he owed a duty to the mad multitude around him which he was
+bound to discharge. "My friends," said he, "I am with you, for better or
+for worse. You kindly permit me to share in your prosperity, and now, in
+the day of your trial and adversity, I will stand by you. There has gone
+out from among us an incarnate evil influence, a fact which calls for
+our profound gratitude. I confess with shame that I have not only felt
+it, but have shaped myself, though unconsciously, to it. It has vitiated
+our charities, corrupted our morals, and invaded even the house of God.
+We have worshiped the golden calf. We have bowed down to Moloch. We have
+consented to live under a will that was base and cruel, in all its
+motives and ends. We have been so dazzled by a great worldly success,
+that we have ceased to inquire into its sources. We have done daily
+obeisance to one who neither feared God nor regarded man. We have become
+so pervaded with his spirit, so demoralized by his foul example, that
+when he held out even a false opportunity to realize something of his
+success, we made no inquisition of facts or processes, and were willing
+to share with him in gains that his whole history would have taught us
+were more likely to be unfairly than fairly won. I mourn for your
+losses, for you can poorly afford to suffer them; but to have that man
+forever removed from us; to be released from his debasing influence; to
+be untrammeled in our action and in the development of our resources; to
+be free men and free women, and to become content with our lot and with
+such gains as we may win in a legitimate way, is worth all that it has
+cost us. We needed a severe lesson, and we have had it. It falls heavily
+upon some who are innocent. Let us, in kindness to these, find a balm
+for our own trials. And, now, let us not degrade ourselves by hot words
+and impotent resentments. They can do no good. Let us be men--Christian
+men, with detestation of the rascality from which we suffer, but with
+pity for the guilty man, who, sooner or later, will certainly meet the
+punishment he so richly deserves. 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay,'
+saith the Lord."
+
+The people of Sevenoaks had never before heard Mr. Snow make such a
+speech as this. It was a manly confession, and a manly admonition. His
+attenuated form was straight and almost majestic, his pale face was
+flushed, his tones were deep and strong, and they saw that one man, at
+least, breathed more freely, now that the evil genius of the place was
+gone. It was a healthful speech. It was an appeal to their own conscious
+history, and to such remains of manhood as they possessed, and they were
+strengthened by it.
+
+A series of the most objurgatory resolutions had been prepared for the
+occasion, yet the writer saw that it would be better to keep them in his
+pocket. The meeting was at a stand, when little Dr. Radcliffe, who was
+sore to his heart's core with his petty loss, jumped up and declared
+that he had a series of resolutions to offer. There was a world of
+unconscious humor in his freak,--unconscious, because his resolutions
+were intended to express his spite, not only against Mr. Belcher, but
+against the villagers, including Mr. Snow. He began by reading in his
+piping voice the first resolution passed at the previous meeting which
+so pleasantly dismissed the proprietor to the commercial metropolis of
+the country. The reading of this resolution was so sweet a sarcasm on
+the proceedings of that occasion, that it was received with peals of
+laughter and deafening cheers, and as he went bitterly on, from
+resolution to resolution, raising his voice to overtop the jargon, the
+scene became too ludicrous for description. The resolutions, which never
+had any sincerity in them, were such a confirmation of all that Mr. Snow
+had said, and such a comment on their own duplicity and moral
+debasement, that there was nothing left for them but to break up and go
+home.
+
+The laugh did them good, and complemented the corrective which had been
+administered to them by the minister. Some of them still retained their
+anger, as a matter of course, and when they emerged upon the street and
+found Mr. Belcher's effigy standing upon the ground, surrounded by
+fagots ready to be lighted, they yelled: "Light him up, boys!" and stood
+to witness the sham _auto-da-fe_ with a crowd of village urchins dancing
+around it.
+
+Of course, Mr. Belcher had calculated upon indignation and anger, and
+rejoiced in their impotence. He knew that those who had lost so much
+would not care to risk more in a suit at law, and that his property at
+Sevenoaks was so identified with the life of the town--that so many were
+dependent upon its preservation for their daily bread--that they would
+not be fool-hardy enough to burn it.
+
+Forty-eight hours after the public meeting, Mr. Belcher, sitting
+comfortably in his city home, received from the postman a large handful
+of letters. He looked them over, and as they were all blazoned with the
+Sevenoaks post-mark, he selected that which bore the handwriting of his
+agent, and read it. The agent had not dared to attend the meeting, but
+he had had his spies there, who reported to him fully the authorship and
+drift of all the speeches in the hall, and the unseemly proceedings of
+the street. Mr. Belcher did not laugh, for his vanity was wounded. The
+thought that a town in which he had ruled so long had dared to burn his
+effigy in the open street was a humiliation; particularly so, as he did
+not see how he could revenge himself upon the perpetrators of it without
+compromising his own interests. He blurted out his favorite expletive,
+lighted a new cigar, walked his room, and chafed like a caged tiger.
+
+He was not in haste to break the other seals, but at last he sat down to
+the remainder of his task, and read a series of pitiful personal appeals
+that would have melted any heart but his own. They were from needy men
+and women whom he had despoiled. They were a detail of suffering and
+disappointment, and in some cases they were abject prayers for
+restitution. He read them all, to the last letter and the last word, and
+then quietly tore them into strips, and threw them into the fire.
+
+His agent had informed him of the sources of the public information
+concerning the Continental Company, and he recognized James Balfour as
+an enemy. He had a premonition that the man was destined to stand in his
+way, and that he was located just where he could overlook his operations
+and his life. He would not have murdered him, but he would have been
+glad to hear that he was dead. He wondered whether he was
+incorruptible, and whether he, Robert Belcher, could afford to buy
+him--whether it would not pay to make his acquaintance--whether, indeed,
+the man were not endeavoring to force him to do so. Every bad motive
+which could exercise a man, he understood; but he was puzzled in
+endeavoring to make out what form of selfishness had moved Mr. Balfour
+to take such an interest in the people of Sevenoaks.
+
+At last he sat down at his table and wrote a letter to his agent, simply
+ordering him to establish a more thorough watch over his property, and
+directing him to visit all the newspaper offices of the region, and keep
+the reports of the meeting and its attendant personal indignities from
+publication.
+
+Then, with an amused smile upon his broad face, he wrote the following
+letter:
+
+"TO THE REVEREND SOLOMON SNOW,
+
+"_Dear Sir_: I owe an apology to the people of Sevenoaks for never
+adequately acknowledging the handsome manner in which they endeavored to
+assuage the pangs of parting on the occasion of my removal. The
+resolutions passed at their public meeting are cherished among my
+choicest treasures, and the cheers of the people as I rode through their
+ranks on the morning of my departure, still ring in my ears more
+delightfully than any music I ever heard. Thank them, I pray you, for
+me, for their overwhelming friendliness. I now have a request to make of
+them, and I make it the more boldly because, during the past ten years,
+I have never been approached by any of them in vain when they have
+sought my benefactions. The Continental Petroleum Company is a failure,
+and all the stock I hold in it is valueless. Finding that my expenses in
+the city are very much greater than in the country, it has occurred to
+me that perhaps my friends there would be willing to make up a purse for
+my benefit. I assure you that it would be gratefully received; and I
+apply to you because, from long experience, I know that you are
+accomplished in the art of begging. Your graceful manner in accepting
+gifts from me has given me all the hints I shall need in that respect,
+so that the transaction will not be accompanied by any clumsy details.
+My butcher's bill will be due in a few days, and dispatch is desirable.
+
+"With the most cordial compliments to Mrs. Snow, whom I profoundly
+esteem, and to your accomplished daughters, who have so long been spared
+to the protection of the paternal roof,
+
+"I am your affectionate parishioner,
+
+"ROBERT BELCHER."
+
+Mr. Belcher had done what he considered a very neat and brilliant thing.
+He sealed and directed the letter, rang his bell, and ordered it posted.
+Then he sat back in his easy chair, and chuckled over it. Then he rose
+and paraded himself before his mirror.
+
+"When you get ahead of Robert Belcher, drop us a line. Let it be brief
+and to the point. Any information thankfully received. Are you, sir, to
+be bothered by this pettifogger? Are you to sit tamely down and be
+undermined? Is that your custom? Then, sir, you are a base coward. Who
+said coward? Did you, sir? Let this right hand, which I now raise in
+air, and clench in awful menace, warn you not to repeat the damning
+accusation. Sevenoaks howls, and it is well. Let every man who stands in
+my path take warning. I button my coat; I raise my arms; I straighten my
+form, and they flee away--flee like the mists of the morning, and over
+yonder mountain-top, fade in the far blue sky. And now, my dear sir,
+don't make an ass of yourself, but sit down. Thank you, sir. I make you
+my obeisance. I retire."
+
+Mr. Belcher's addresses to himself were growing less frequent among the
+excitements of new society. He had enough to occupy his mind without
+them, and found sufficient competition in the matter of dress to modify
+in some degree his vanity of person; but the present occasion was a
+stimulating one, and one whose excitements he could not share with
+another.
+
+His missive went to its destination, and performed a thoroughly
+healthful work, because it destroyed all hope of any relief from his
+hands, and betrayed the cruel contempt with which he regarded his old
+townsmen and friends.
+
+He slept as soundly that night as if he had been an innocent infant; but
+on the following morning, sipping leisurely and luxuriously at his
+coffee, and glancing over the pages of his favorite newspaper, he
+discovered a letter with startling headings, which displayed his own
+name and bore the date of Sevenoaks. The "R" at its foot revealed Dr.
+Radcliffe as the writer, and the peppery doctor had not miscalculated in
+deciding that "The New York Tattler" would be the paper most affected by
+Mr. Belcher--a paper with more enterprise than brains, more brains than
+candor, and with no conscience at all; a paper which manufactured hoaxes
+and vended them for news, bought and sold scandals by the sheet as if
+they were country gingerbread, and damaged reputations one day for the
+privilege and profit of mending them the next.
+
+He read anew, and with marvelous amplification, the story with which the
+letter of his agent had already made him familiar. This time he had
+received a genuine wound, with poison upon the barb of the arrow that
+had pierced him. He crushed the paper in his hand and ascended to his
+room. All Wall street would see it, comment upon it, and laugh over it.
+Balfour would read it and smile. New York and all the country would
+gossip about it. Mrs. Dillingham would peruse it. Would it change her
+attitude toward him? This was a serious matter, and it touched him to
+the quick.
+
+The good angel who had favored him all his life, and brought him safe
+and sound out of every dirty difficulty of his career, was already on
+his way with assistance, although he did not know it. Sometimes this
+angel had assumed the form of a lie, sometimes that of a charity,
+sometimes that of a palliating or deceptive circumstance; but it had
+always appeared at the right moment; and this time it came in the form
+of an interviewing reporter. His bell rang, and a servant appeared with
+the card of "Mr. Alphonse Tibbets of 'The New York Tattler.'"
+
+A moment before, he was cursing "The Tattler" for publishing the record
+of his shame, but he knew instinctively that the way out of his scrape
+had been opened to him.
+
+"Show him up," said the proprietor at once. He had hardly time to look
+into his mirror, and make sure that his hair and his toilet were all
+right, before a dapper little fellow, with a professional manner, and a
+portfolio under his arm, was ushered into the room. The air of easy
+good-nature and good fellowship was one which Mr. Belcher could assume
+at will, and this was the air that he had determined upon as a matter of
+policy in dealing with a representative of "The Tattler" office. He
+expected to meet a man with a guilty look, and a deprecating, fawning
+smile. He was, therefore, very much surprised to find in Mr. Tibbets a
+young gentleman without the slightest embarrassment in his bearing, or
+the remotest consciousness that he was in the presence of a man who
+might possibly have cause of serious complaint against "The Tattler." In
+brief, Mr. Tibbets seemed to be a man who was in the habit of dealing
+with rascals, and liked them. Would Mr. Tibbets have a cup of coffee
+sent up to him? Mr. Tibbets had breakfasted, and, therefore, declined
+the courtesy. Would Mr. Tibbets have a cigar? Mr. Tibbets would, and, on
+the assurance that they were nicer than he would be apt to find
+elsewhere, Mr. Tibbets consented to put a handful of cigars into his
+pocket. Mr. Tibbets then drew up to the table, whittled his pencil,
+straightened out his paper, and proceeded to business, looking much, as
+he faced the proprietor, like a Sunday-school teacher on a rainy day,
+with the one pupil before him who had braved the storm because he had
+his lesson at his tongue's end.
+
+As the substance of the questions and answers appeared in the next
+morning's "Tattler," hereafter to be quoted, it is not necessary to
+recite them here. At the close of the interview, which was very friendly
+and familiar, Mr. Belcher rose, and with the remark: "You fellows must
+have a pretty rough time of it," handed the reporter a twenty-dollar
+bank-note, which that gentleman pocketed without a scruple, and without
+any remarkable effusiveness of gratitude. Then Mr. Belcher wanted him to
+see the house, and so walked over it with him. Mr. Tibbets was
+delighted. Mr. Tibbets congratulated him. Mr. Tibbets went so far as to
+say that he did not believe there was another such mansion in New York.
+Mr. Tibbets did not remark that he had been kicked out of several of
+them, only less magnificent, because circumstances did not call for the
+statement. Then Mr. Tibbets went away, and walked off hurriedly down the
+street to write out his report.
+
+The next morning Mr. Belcher was up early in order to get his "Tattler"
+as soon as it was dropped at his door. He soon found, on opening the
+reeking sheet, the column which held the precious document of Mr.
+Tibbets, and read:
+
+                "The Riot at Sevenoaks!!!
+       "An interesting Interview with Col. Belcher!
+        "The original account grossly Exaggerated!
+      "The whole matter an outburst of Personal Envy!
+             "The Palgrave Mansion in a fume!
+                "Tar, feathers and fagots!
+                 "A Tempest in a Tea-pot!
+  "Petroleum in a blaze, and a thousand fingers burnt!!!
+                 "Stand out from under!!!"
+
+The headings came near taking Mr. Belcher's breath away. He gasped,
+shuddered, and wondered what was coming. Then he went on and read the
+report of the interview:
+
+"A 'Tattler' reporter visited yesterday the great proprietor of
+Sevenoaks, Colonel Robert Belcher, at his splendid mansion on Fifth
+Avenue. That gentleman had evidently just swallowed his breakfast, and
+was comforting himself over the report he had read in the 'Tattler' of
+that morning, by inhaling the fragrance of one of his choice Havanas. He
+is evidently a devotee of the seductive weed, and knows a good article
+when he sees it. A copy of the 'Tattler' lay on the table, which bore
+unmistakable evidences of having been spitefully crushed in the hand.
+The iron had evidently entered the Colonel's righteous soul, and the
+reporter, having first declined the cup of coffee hospitably tendered to
+him and accepted (as he always does when he gets a chance) a cigar,
+proceeded at once to business.
+
+"_Reporter_: Col. Belcher, have you seen the report in this morning's
+'Tattler' of the riot at Sevenoaks, which nominally had your dealings
+with the people for its occasion?
+
+"_Answer_: I have, and a pretty mess was made of it.
+
+"_Reporter:_ Do you declare the report to be incorrect?
+
+"_Answer:_ I know nothing about the correctness or the incorrectness of
+the report, for I was not there.
+
+"_Reporter:_ Were the accusations made against yourself correct,
+presuming that they were fairly and truthfully reported?
+
+"_Answer:_ They were so far from being correct that nothing could be
+more untruthful or more malicious.
+
+"_Reporter:_ Have you any objection to telling me the true state of the
+case in detail?
+
+"_Answer:_ None at all. Indeed, I have been so foully misrepresented,
+that I am glad of an opportunity to place myself right before a people
+with whom I have taken up my residence. In the first place, I made
+Sevenoaks. I have fed the people of Sevenoaks for more than ten years. I
+have carried the burden of their charities; kept their dirty ministers
+from starving; furnished employment for their women and children, and
+run the town. I had no society there, and of course, got tired of my
+hum-drum life. I had worked hard, been successful, and felt that I owed
+it to myself and my family to go somewhere and enjoy the privileges,
+social and educational, which I had the means to command. I came to New
+York without consulting anybody, and bought this house. The people
+protested, but ended by holding a public meeting, and passing a series
+of resolutions complimentary to me, of which I very naturally felt
+proud; and when I came away, they assembled at the roadside and gave me
+the friendliest cheers.
+
+"_Reporter:_ How about the petroleum?
+
+"_Answer:_ Well, that is an unaccountable thing. I went into the
+Continental Company, and nothing would do for the people but to go in
+with me. I warned them--every man of them--but they would go in; so I
+acted as their agent in procuring stock for them. There was not a share
+of stock sold on any persuasion of mine. They were mad, they were wild,
+for oil. You wouldn't have supposed there was half so much money in the
+town as they dug out of their old stockings to invest in oil. I was
+surprised, I assure you. Well, the Continental went up, and they had to
+be angry with somebody; and although I held more stock than any of them,
+they took a fancy that I had defrauded them, and so they came together
+to wreak their impotent spite on me. That's the sum and substance of the
+whole matter.
+
+"_Reporter:_ And that is all you have to say?
+
+"_Answer:_ Well, it covers the ground. Whether I shall proceed in law
+against these scoundrels for maligning me, I have not determined. I
+shall probably do nothing about it. The men are poor, and even if they
+were rich, what good would it do me to get their money? I've got money
+enough, and money with me can never offset a damage to character. When
+they get cool and learn the facts, if they ever do learn them, they will
+be sorry. They are not a bad people at heart, though I am ashamed, as
+their old fellow-townsman, to say that they have acted like children in
+this matter. There's a half-crazy, half-silly old doctor there by the
+name of Radcliffe, and an old parson by the name of Snow, whom I have
+helped to feed for years, who lead them into difficulty. But they're not
+a bad people, now, and I am sorry for their sake that this thing has got
+into the papers. It'll hurt the town. They have keen badly led,
+inflamed over false information, and they have disgraced themselves.
+
+"This closed the interview, and then Col. Belcher politely showed the
+'Tattler' reporter over his palatial abode. 'Taken for all in all,' he
+does not expect 'to look upon its like again.'
+
+  "None see it but to love it,
+  None name it but to praise.
+
+"It was 'linked sweetness long drawn out,' and must have cost the
+gallant Colonel a pile of stamps. Declining an invitation to visit the
+stables,--for our new millionaire is a lover of horse-flesh, as well as
+the narcotic weed--and leaving that gentleman to 'witch the world with
+wondrous horsemanship,' the 'Tattler' reporter withdrew, 'pierced
+through with Envy's venomed darts,' and satisfied that his courtly
+entertainer had been 'more sinned against than sinning.'"
+
+Col. Belcher read the report with genuine pleasure, and then, turning
+over the leaf, read upon the editorial page the following:
+
+"COL. BELCHER ALL RIGHT.--We are satisfied that the letter from
+Sevenoaks, published in yesterday's 'Tattler,' in regard to our highly
+respected fellow-citizen, Colonel Robert Belcher, was a gross libel upon
+that gentleman, and intended, by the malicious writer, to injure an
+honorable and innocent man. It is only another instance of the
+ingratitude of rural communities toward their benefactors. We
+congratulate the redoubtable Colonel on his removal from so pestilent a
+neighborhood to a city where his sterling qualities will find 'ample
+scope and verge enough,' and where those who suffer 'the slings and
+arrows of outrageous fortune' will not lay them to the charge of one who
+can, with truthfulness, declare 'Thou canst not say I did it.'"
+
+When Mr. Belcher concluded, he muttered to himself, "Twenty
+dollars!--cheap enough." He had remained at home the day before; now he
+could go upon 'Change with a face cleared of all suspicion. A cloud of
+truth had overshadowed him, but it had been dissipated by the genial
+sunlight of falsehood. His self-complacency was fully restored when he
+received a note, in the daintiest text on the daintiest paper,
+congratulating him on the triumphant establishment of his innocence
+before the New York public, and bearing as its signature a name so
+precious to him that he took it to his own room before destroying it and
+kissed it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+WHICH TELLS ABOUT MRS. DILLINGHAM'S CHRISTMAS AND THE NEW YEAR'S
+RECEPTION AT THE PALGRAVE MANSION.
+
+
+A brilliant Christmas morning shone in at Mrs. Dillingham's window,
+where she sat quietly sunning the better side of her nature. Her parlor
+was a little paradise, and all things around her were in tasteful
+keeping with her beautiful self. The Christmas chimes were deluging the
+air with music; throngs were passing by on their way to and from church,
+and exchanging the greetings of the day; wreaths of holly were in her
+own windows and in those of her neighbors; and the influences of the
+hour--half poetical, half religious--held the unlovely and the evil
+within her in benign though temporary thrall. The good angel was
+dominant within her, while the bad angel slept.
+
+Far down the vista of the ages, she was looking into a stable where a
+baby lay, warm in its swaddling-clothes, the mother bending over it. She
+saw above the stable a single star, which, palpitating with prophecy,
+shook its long rays out into the form of a cross, then drew them in
+until they circled into a blazing crown. Far above the star the air was
+populous with lambent forms and resonant with shouting voices, and she
+heard the words: "Peace on earth, good-will to men!" The chimes melted
+into her reverie; the kindly sun encouraged it; the voices of happy
+children fed it, and she was moved to tears.
+
+What could she do now but think over her past life--a life that had
+given her no children--a life that had been filled neither by peace nor
+good-will? She had married an old man for his money; had worried him
+out of his life, and he had gone and left her childless. She would not
+charge herself with the crime of hastening to the grave her father and
+mother, but she knew she had not been a comfort to them. Her
+willfulness; her love of money and of power; her pride of person and
+accomplishments; her desire for admiration; her violent passions, had
+made her a torment to others and to herself. She knew that no one loved
+her for anything good that she possessed, and knew that her own heart
+was barren of love for others. She felt that a little child who would
+call her "mother," clinging to her hand, or nestling in her bosom, could
+redeem her to her better self; and how could she help thinking of the
+true men who, with their hearts in their fresh, manly hands, had prayed
+for her love in the dawn of her young beauty, and been spurned from her
+presence--men now in the honorable walks of life with their little ones
+around them? Her relatives had forsaken her. There was absolutely no one
+to whom she could turn for the sympathy which in that hour she craved.
+
+In these reflections, there was one person of her own blood recalled to
+whom she had been a curse, and of whom, for a single moment, she could
+not bear to think. She had driven him from her presence--the one who,
+through all her childhood, had been her companion, her admirer, her
+loyal follower. He had dared to love and marry one whom she did not
+approve, and she had angrily banished him from her side. If she only had
+him to love, she felt that she should be better and happier, but she had
+no hope that he would ever return to her.
+
+She felt now, with inexpressible loathing, the unworthiness of the
+charms with which she fascinated the base men around her. The only
+sympathy she had was from these, and the only power she possessed was
+over them, and through them. The aim of her life was to fascinate them;
+the art of her life was to keep them fascinated without the conscious
+degradation of herself, and, so, to lead them whithersoever she would.
+Her business was the manufacture of slaves--slaves to her personal
+charms and her imperious will. Each slave carried around his own secret,
+treated her with distant deference in society, spoke of her with
+respect, and congratulated himself on possessing her supreme favor. Not
+one of them had her heart, or her confidence. With a true woman's
+instinct, she knew that no man who would be untrue to his wife would be
+true to her. So she played with them as with puppies that might gambol
+around her, and fawn before her, but might not smutch her robes with
+their dirty feet, or get the opportunity to bite her hand.
+
+She had a house, but she had no home. Again and again the thought came
+to her that in a million homes that morning the air was full of
+music--hearty greetings between parents and children, sweet prattle from
+lips unstained, merry laughter from bosoms without a care. With a heart
+full of tender regrets for the mistakes and errors of the past, with
+unspeakable contempt for the life she was living, and with vain
+yearnings for something better, she rose and determined to join the
+throngs that were pressing into the churches. Hastily prepared for the
+street, she went out, and soon, her heart responding to the Christmas
+music, and her voice to the Christmas utterances from the altar, she
+strove to lift her heart in devotion. She felt the better for it. It was
+an old habit, and the spasm was over. Having done a good thing, she
+turned her ear away from the suggestions of her good angel, and, in
+turning away, encountered the suggestions of worldliness from the other
+side, which came back to her with their old music. She came out of the
+church as one comes out of a theater, where for hours he has sat
+absorbed in the fictitious passion of a play, to the grateful rush and
+roar of Broadway, the flashing of the lights, and the shouting of the
+voices of the real world.
+
+Mr. Belcher called that evening, and she was glad to see him. Arrayed in
+all her loveliness, sparkling with vivacity and radiant with health, she
+sat and wove her toils about him. She had never seemed lovelier in his
+eyes, and, as he thought of the unresponsive and quiet woman he had left
+behind him, he felt that his home was not on Fifth Avenue, but in the
+house where he then sat. Somehow--he could not tell how--she had always
+kept him at a distance. He had not dared to be familiar with her. Up to
+a certain point he could carry his gallantries, but no further. Then the
+drift of conversation would change. Then something called her away. He
+grew mad with the desire to hold her hand, to touch her, to unburden his
+heart of its passion for her, to breathe his hope of future possession;
+but always, when the convenient moment came, he was gently repelled,
+tenderly hushed, adroitly diverted. He knew the devil was in her; he
+believed that she was fond of him, and thus knowing and believing, he
+was at his wit's end to guess why she should be so persistently
+perverse. He had drank that day, and was not so easily managed as usual,
+and she had a hard task to hold him to his proprieties. There was only
+one way to do this, and that was to assume the pathetic.
+
+Then she told him of her lonely day, her lack of employment, her wish
+that she could be of some use in the world, and, finally, she wondered
+whether Mrs. Belcher would like to have her, Mrs. Dillingham, receive
+with her on New Year's Day. If that lady would not consider it an
+intrusion, she should be happy to shut her own house, and thus be able
+to present all the gentlemen of the city worth knowing, not only to Mrs.
+Belcher, but to her husband.
+
+To have Mrs. Dillingham in the house for a whole day, and particularly
+to make desirable acquaintances so easily, was a rare privilege. He
+would speak to Mrs. Belcher about it, and he was sure there could be but
+one answer. To be frank about it, he did not intend there should be but
+one answer; but, for form's sake, it would be best to consult her. Mr.
+Belcher did not say--what was the truth--that the guilt in his heart
+made him more careful to consult Mrs. Belcher in the matter than he
+otherwise would have been; but now that his loyalty to her had ceased,
+he became more careful to preserve its semblance. There was a tender
+quality in Mrs. Dillingham's voice as she parted with him for the
+evening, and a half returned, suddenly relinquished response to the
+pressure of his hand, which left the impression that she had checked an
+eager impulse. Under the influence of these, the man went out from her
+presence, flattered to his heart's core, and with his admiration of her
+self-contained and prudent passion more exalted than ever.
+
+Mr. Belcher went directly home, and into Mrs. Belcher's room. That good
+lady was alone, quietly reading. The children had retired, and she was
+spending her time after her custom.
+
+"Well, Sarah, what sort of a Christmas have you had?"
+
+Mrs. Belcher bit her lip, for there was something in her husband's tone
+which conveyed the impression that he was preparing to wheedle her into
+some scheme upon which he had set his heart, and which he felt or
+feared, would not be agreeable to her. She had noticed a change in him.
+He was tenderer toward her than he had been for years, yet her heart
+detected the fact that the tenderness was a sham. She could not
+ungraciously repel it, yet she felt humiliated in accepting it. So, as
+she answered his question with the words: "Oh, much the same as usual,"
+she could not look into his face with a smile upon her own.
+
+"I've just been over to call on Mrs. Dillingham," said he.
+
+"Ah?"
+
+"Yes; I thought I would drop in and give her the compliments of the
+season. She's rather lonely, I fancy."
+
+"So am I."
+
+"Well now, Sarah, there's a difference; you know there is. You have your
+children, and--"
+
+"And she my husband."
+
+"Well, she's an agreeable woman, and I must go out sometimes. My
+acquaintance with agreeable women in New York is not very large."
+
+"Why don't you ask your wife to go with you? I'm fond of agreeable
+women too."
+
+"You are not fond of her, and I'm afraid she suspects it."
+
+"I should think she would. Women who are glad to receive alone the calls
+of married men, always do suspect their wives of disliking them."
+
+"Well, it certainly isn't her fault that men go to see her without their
+wives. Don't be unfair now, my dear."
+
+"I don't think I am," responded Mrs. Belcher. "I notice that women never
+like other women who are great favorites with men; and there must be
+some good reason for it. Women like Mrs. Dillingham, who abound in
+physical fascinations for men, have no liking for the society of their
+own sex. I have never heard a woman speak well of her, and I have never
+heard her speak well of any other woman."
+
+"I have, and, more than that, I have heard her speak well of you. I
+think she is shamefully belied. Indeed, I do not think that either of us
+has a better friend than she, and I have a proposition to present to you
+which proves it. She is willing to come to us on New Year's Day, and
+receive with you--to bring all her acquaintances into your house, and
+make them yours and mine."
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"Yes; and I think we should be most ungrateful and discourteous to her,
+as well as impolitic with relation to ourselves and to our social
+future, not to accept the proposition."
+
+"I don't think I care to be under obligations to Mrs. Dillingham for
+society, or care for the society she will bring us. I am not pleased
+with a proposition of this kind that comes through my husband. If she
+were my friend it would be a different matter, but she is not. If I were
+to feel myself moved to invite some lady to come here and receive with
+me, it would be well enough; but this proposition is a stroke of
+patronage as far as I am concerned, and I don't like it. It is like Mrs.
+Dillingham and all of her kind. Whatever may have been her motives, it
+was an indelicate thing to do, and she ought to be ashamed of herself
+for doing it"
+
+Mr. Belcher knew in his heart that his wife was right. He knew that
+every word she had spoken was the truth. He knew that he should never
+call on Mrs. Dillingham with his wife, save as a matter of policy; but
+this did not modify his determination to have his own way.
+
+"You place me in a very awkward position, my dear," said he, determined,
+as long as possible, to maintain an amiable mood.
+
+"And she has placed me in one which you are helping to fasten upon me,
+and not at all helping to relieve me from."
+
+"I don't see how I can, my dear. I am compelled to go back to her with
+some answer; and, as I am determined to have my house open, I must say
+whether you accept or decline her courtesy; for courtesy it is, and not
+patronage at all."
+
+Mrs. Belcher felt the chain tightening, and knew that she was to be
+bound, whether willing or unwilling. The consciousness of her impotence
+did not act kindly upon her temper, and she burst out:
+
+"I do not want her here. I wish she would have done with her officious
+helpfulness. Why can't she mind her own business, and let me alone?"
+
+Mr. Belcher's temper rose to the occasion; for, although he saw in Mrs.
+Belcher's petulance and indignation that his victory was half won, he
+could not quite submit to the abuse of his brilliant pet.
+
+"I have some rights in this house myself, my dear, and I fancy that my
+wishes are deserving of respect, at least."
+
+"Very well. If it's your business, why did you come to me with it? Why
+didn't you settle it before you left the precious lady, who is so much
+worthier your consideration than your wife? Now go, and tell her that it
+is your will that she shall receive with me, and that I tamely submit."
+
+"I shall tell her nothing of the kind."
+
+"You can say no less, if you tell her the truth."
+
+"My dear, you are angry. Let's not talk about it any more to-night. You
+will feel differently about it in the morning."
+
+Of course, Mrs. Belcher went to bed in tears, cried over it until she
+went to sleep, and woke in the morning submissive, and quietly
+determined to yield to her husband's wishes. Of course, Mr. Belcher was
+not late in informing Mrs. Dillingham that his wife would be most happy
+to accept her proposition. Of course, Mrs. Dillingham lost no time in
+sending her card to all the gentlemen she had ever met, with the
+indorsement, "Receives on New Year's with Mrs. Col. Belcher, ---- Fifth
+Avenue." Of course, too, after the task was accomplished, she called on
+Mrs. Belcher to express her gratitude for the courtesy, and to make
+suggestions about the entertainment. Was it quite of course that Mrs.
+Belcher, in the presence of this facile woman, overflowing with kind
+feeling, courteous deference, pleasant sentiment and sparkling
+conversation, should feel half ashamed of herself, and wonder how one so
+good and bright and sweet could so have moved her to anger?
+
+The day came at last, and at ten Mrs. Dillingham entered the grand
+drawing-room in her queenly appareling. She applauded Mrs. Belcher's
+appearance, she kissed the children, all of whom thought her the
+loveliest lady they had ever seen, and in an aside to Mr. Belcher
+cautioned him against partaking too bountifully of the wines he had
+provided for his guests. "Let us have a nice thing of it," she said,
+"and nothing to be sorry for."
+
+Mr. Belcher was faithfully in her leading. It would have been no
+self-denial for him to abstain entirely for her sake. He would do
+anything she wished.
+
+There was one thing noticeable in her treatment of the lads of the
+family, and in their loyalty to her. She could win a boy's heart with a
+touch of her hand, a smile and a kiss. They clung to her whenever in
+her presence. They hung charmed upon all her words. They were happy to
+do anything she desired; and as children see through shams more quickly
+than their elders, it could not be doubted that she had a genuine
+affection for them. A child addressed the best side of her nature, and
+evoked a passion that had never found rest in satisfaction, while her
+heartiness and womanly beauty appealed to the boy nature with charms to
+which it yielded unbounded admiration and implicit confidence.
+
+The reception was a wonderful success. Leaving out of the account the
+numbers of gentlemen who came to see the revived glories of the Palgrave
+mansion, there was a large number of men who had been summoned by Mrs.
+Dillingham's cards--men who undoubtedly ought to have been in
+better business or in better company. They were men in good
+positions--clergymen, merchants, lawyers, physicians, young men of good
+families--men whose wives and mothers and sisters entertained an
+uncharitable opinion of that lady; but for this one courtesy of a year
+the men would not be called to account. Mrs. Dillingham knew them all at
+sight, called each man promptly by name, and presented them all to her
+dear friend Mrs. Belcher, and then to Col. Belcher, who, dividing his
+attention between the drawing-room and the dining-room, played the host
+with rude heartiness and large hospitality.
+
+Mrs. Belcher was surprised by the presence of a number of men whose
+names were familiar with the public--Members of Congress,
+representatives of the city government, clergymen even, who were
+generally supposed to be "at home" on that day. Why had these made their
+appearance? She could only come to one conclusion, which was, that they
+regarded Mrs. Dillingham as a show. Mrs. Dillingham in a beautiful
+house, arranged for self-exhibition, was certainly more attractive than
+Mary, Queen of Scots, in wax, in a public hall; and she could be seen
+for nothing.
+
+It is doubtful whether Mrs. Belcher's estimate of their sex was
+materially raised by their tribute to her companion's personal
+attractions, but they furnished her with an interesting study. She was
+comforted by certain observations, viz., that there were at least twenty
+men among them who, by their manner and their little speeches, which
+only a woman could interpret, showed that they were entangled in the
+same meshes that had been woven around her husband; that they were as
+foolish, as fond, as much deceived, and as treacherously entertained as
+he.
+
+She certainly was amused. Puffy old fellows with nosegays in their
+button-holes grew gallant and young in Mrs. Dillingham's presence,
+filled her ears with flatteries, received the grateful tap of her fan,
+and were immediately banished to the dining-room, from which they
+emerged redder in the face and puffier than ever. Dapper young men
+arriving in cabs threw off their overcoats before alighting, and ran up
+the steps in evening dress, went through their automatic greeting and
+leave-taking, and ran out again to get through their task of making
+almost numberless calls during the day. Steady old men like Mr.
+Tunbridge and Mr. Schoonmaker, who had had the previous privilege of
+meeting Mr. Belcher, were turned over to Mrs. Belcher, with whom they
+sat down and had a quiet talk. Mrs. Dillingham seemed to know exactly
+how to apportion the constantly arriving and departing guests. Some were
+entertained by herself, some were given to Mr. Belcher, some to the
+hostess, and others were sent directly to the refreshment tables to be
+fed.
+
+Mr. Belcher was brought into contact with men of his own kind, who did
+not fail to recognize him as a congenial spirit, and to express the hope
+of seeing more of him, now that he had become "one of us." Each one knew
+some other one whom he would take an early opportunity of presenting to
+Mr. Belcher. They were all glad he was in New York. It was the place for
+him. Everything was open to such a man as he, in such a city, and they
+only wondered why he had been content to remain so long, shut away from
+his own kind.
+
+These expressions of brotherly interest were very pleasant to Mr.
+Belcher. They flattered him and paved the way for a career. He would
+soon be hand-in-glove with them all. He would soon find the ways of
+their prosperity, and make himself felt among them.
+
+The long afternoon wore away, and, just as the sun was setting, Mrs.
+Belcher was called from the drawing-room by some family care, leaving
+Mr. Belcher and Mrs. Dillingham together.
+
+"Don't be gone long," said the latter to Mrs. Belcher, as she left the
+room.
+
+"Be gone till to-morrow morning," said Mr. Belcher, in a whisper at Mrs.
+Dillingham's ear.
+
+"You're a wretch," said the lady.
+
+"You're right--a very miserable wretch. Here you've been playing the
+devil with a hundred men all day, and I've been looking at you. Is there
+any article of your apparel that I can have the privilege of kissing?"
+
+Mrs. Dillingham laughed him in his face. Then she took a wilted rose-bud
+from a nosegay at her breast, and gave it to him.
+
+"My roses are all faded," she said--"worth nothing to me--worth nothing
+to anybody--except you."
+
+Then she passed to the window; to hide her emotion? to hide her
+duplicity? to change the subject? to give Mr. Belcher a glance at her
+gracefully retreating figure? to show herself, framed by the window,
+into a picture for the delight of his devouring eyes?
+
+Mr. Belcher followed her. His hand lightly touched her waist, and she
+struck it down, as if her own were the velvet paw of a lynx.
+
+"You startled me so!" she said.
+
+"Are you always to be startled so easily?"
+
+"Here? yes."
+
+"Everywhere?"
+
+"Yes. Perhaps so."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For the perhaps."
+
+"You are easily pleased and grateful for nothing; and, now, tell me who
+lives opposite to you?"
+
+"A lawyer by the name of James Balfour."
+
+"James Balfour? Why, he's one of my old flames. He ought to have been
+here to-day. Perhaps he'll be in this evening."
+
+"Not he."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"He has the honor to be an enemy of mine, and knows that I would rather
+choke him than eat my dinner."
+
+"You men are such savages; but aren't those nice boys on the steps?"
+
+"I happen to know one of them, and I should like to know why he is
+there, and how he came there. Between you and me, now--strictly between
+you and me--that boy is the only person that stands between me
+and--and--a pile of money."
+
+"Is it possible? Which one, now?"
+
+"The larger."
+
+"But, isn't he lovely?"
+
+"He's a Sevenoaks pauper."
+
+"You astonish me."
+
+"I tell you the truth, and Balfour has managed, in some way, to get hold
+of him, and means to make money out of me by it. I know men. You can't
+tell me anything about men; and my excellent neighbor will have his
+hands full, whenever he sees fit to undertake his job."
+
+"Tell me all about it now," said Mrs. Dillingham, her eyes alight with
+genuine interest.
+
+"Not now, but I'll tell you what I would like to have you do. You have a
+way of making boys love you, and men too--for that matter--and precious
+little do they get for it."
+
+"Candid and complimentary," she sighed.
+
+"Well, I've seen you manage with my boys, and I would like to have you
+try it with him. Meet him in the street, manage to speak to him, get him
+into your house, make him love you. You can do it. You are bold enough,
+ingenious enough, and subtle enough to do anything of that kind you will
+undertake. Some time, if you have him under your influence, you may be
+of use to me. Some time, he may be glad to hide in your house. No harm
+can come to you in making his acquaintance."
+
+"Do you know that you are talking very strangely to me?"
+
+"No. I'm talking business. Is that a strange thing to a woman?"
+
+Mrs. Dillingham made no reply, but stood and watched the boys, as they
+ran up and down the steps in play, with a smile of sympathy upon her
+face, and genuine admiration of the graceful motions and handsome face
+and figure of the lad of whom Mr. Belcher had been talking. Her
+curiosity was piqued, her love of intrigue was appealed to, and she
+determined to do, at the first convenient opportunity, what Mr. Belcher
+desired her to do.
+
+Then Mrs. Belcher returned, and the evening, like the afternoon, was
+devoted to the reception of guests, and when, at last, the clock struck
+eleven, and Mrs. Dillingham stood bonneted and shawled ready to go home
+in the carriage that waited at the door, Mrs. Belcher kissed her, while
+Mr. Belcher looked on in triumph.
+
+"Now, Sarah, haven't we had a nice day?" said he.
+
+"Very pleasant, indeed."
+
+"And haven't I behaved well? Upon my word, I believe I shall have to
+stand treat to my own abstinence, before I go to bed."
+
+"Yes, you've been wonderfully good," remarked his wife.
+
+"Men are such angels!" said Mrs. Dillingham.
+
+Then Mr. Belcher put on his hat and overcoat, led Mrs. Dillingham to her
+carriage, got in after her, slammed the door, and drove away.
+
+No sooner were they in the carriage than Mrs. Dillingham went to
+talking about the little boy, in the most furious manner. Poor Mr.
+Belcher could not divert her, could not induce her to change the
+subject, could not get in a word edgewise, could not put forward a
+single apology for the kiss he intended to win, did not win his kiss at
+all. The little journey was ended, the carriage door thrown open by her
+own hand, and she was out without his help.
+
+"Good-night; don't get out," and she flew up the steps and rang the
+bell.
+
+Mr. Belcher ordered the coachman to drive him home, and then sank back
+on his seat, and crowding his lips together, and compressing his
+disappointment into his familiar expletive, he rode back to his house as
+rigid in every muscle as if he had been frozen.
+
+"Is there any such thing as a virtuous devil, I wonder," he muttered to
+himself, as he mounted his steps. "I doubt it; I doubt it."
+
+The next day was icy. Men went slipping along upon the side-walks as
+carefully as if they were trying to follow a guide through the galleries
+of Versailles. And in the afternoon a beautiful woman called a boy to
+her, and begged him to give her his shoulder and help her home. The
+request was so sweetly made, she expressed her obligations so
+courteously, she smiled upon him so beautifully, she praised him so
+ingenuously, she shook his hand at parting so heartily; that he went
+home all aglow from his heart to his finger's ends.
+
+Mrs. Dillingham had made Harry Benedict's acquaintance, which she
+managed to keep alive by bows in the street and bows from the
+window,--managed to keep alive until the lad worshiped her as a sort of
+divinity and, to win her smiling recognition, would go out of his way a
+dozen blocks on any errand about the city.
+
+He recognized her--knew her as the beautiful woman he had seen in the
+great house across the street before Mr. Belcher arrived in town.
+Recognizing her as such, he kept the secret of his devotion to himself,
+for fear that it would be frowned upon by his good friends the Balfours.
+Mr. Belcher, however, knew all about it, rejoiced in it, and counted
+upon it as a possible means in the accomplishment of his ends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+WHICH GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF A VOLUNTARY AND AN INVOLUNTARY VISIT OF SAM
+YATES TO NUMBER NINE.
+
+
+Mr. Belcher followed up the acquaintance which he had so happily made on
+New Year's Day with many of the leading operators of Wall street, during
+the remainder of the winter, and, by the careful and skillful
+manipulation of the minor stocks of the market, not only added to his
+wealth by sure and steady degrees, but built up a reputation for
+sagacity and boldness. He struck at them with a strong hand, and
+gradually became a recognized power on 'Change. He knew that he would
+not be invited into any combinations until he had demonstrated his
+ability to stand alone. He understood that he could not win a leading
+position in any of the great financial enterprises until he had shown
+that he had the skill to manage them. He was playing for two
+stakes--present profit and future power and glory; and he played with
+brave adroitness.
+
+During the same winter the work at Number Nine went on according to
+contract. Mike Conlin found his second horse and the requisite sled,
+and, the river freezing solidly and continuously, he was enabled not
+only to draw the lumber to the river, but up to the very point where it
+was to be used, and where Jim and Mr. Benedict were hewing and framing
+their timber, and pursuing their trapping with unflinching industry.
+Number Ten was transformed into a stable, where Mike kept his horses on
+the nights of his arrival. Two trips a week were all that he could
+accomplish, but the winter was so long, and he was so industrious, that
+before the ice broke up, everything for the construction of the house
+had been delivered, even to the bricks for the chimney, the lime for the
+plastering, and the last clapboard and shingle. The planning, the
+chaffing, the merry stories of which Number Nine was the scene that
+winter, the grand, absorbing interest in the enterprise in which these
+three men were engaged, it would be pleasant to recount, but they may
+safely be left to the reader's imagination. What was Sam Yates doing?
+
+He lived up to the letter of his instructions. Finding himself in the
+possession of an assured livelihood, respectably dressed and engaged in
+steady employment, his appetite for drink loosened its cruel hold upon
+him, and he was once more in possession of himself. All the week long he
+was busy in visiting hospitals, alms-houses and lunatic asylums, and in
+examining their records and the mortuary records of the city. Sometimes
+he presented himself at the doors of public institutions as a
+philanthropist, preparing by personal inspection for writing some book,
+or getting statistics, or establishing an institution on behalf of a
+public benefactor. Sometimes he went in the character of a lawyer, in
+search of a man who had fallen heir to a fortune. He had always a
+plausible story to tell, and found no difficulty in obtaining an
+entrance at all the doors to which his inquisition led him. He was
+treated everywhere so courteously that his self-respect was wonderfully
+nourished, and he began to feel as if it were possible for him to become
+a man again.
+
+On every Saturday night, according to Mr. Belcher's command, he made his
+appearance in the little basement-room of the grand residence, where he
+was first presented to the reader. On these occasions he always brought
+a clean record of what he had done during the week, which he read to Mr.
+Belcher, and then passed into that gentleman's hands, to be filed away
+and preserved. On every visit, too, he was made to feel that he was a
+slave. As his self-respect rose from week to week, the coarse and brutal
+treatment of the proprietor was increased. Mr. Belcher feared that the
+man was getting above his business, and that, as the time approached
+when he might need something very different from these harmless
+investigations, his instrument might become too fine for use.
+
+Besides the ministry to his self-respect which his labors rendered,
+there was another influence upon Sam Yates that tended to confirm its
+effects. He had in his investigations come into intimate contact with
+the results of all forms of vice. Idiocy, insanity, poverty, moral
+debasement, disease in a thousand repulsive forms, all these had
+frightened and disgusted him. On the direct road to one of these
+terrible goals he had been traveling. He knew it, and, with a shudder
+many times repeated, felt it. He had been arrested in the downward road,
+and, God helping him, he would never resume it. He had witnessed brutal
+cruelties and neglect among officials that maddened him. The
+professional indifference of keepers and nurses towards those who, if
+vicious, were still unfortunate and helpless, offended and outraged all
+of manhood there was left in him.
+
+One evening, early in the spring, he made his customary call upon Mr.
+Belcher, bringing his usual report. He had completed the canvass of the
+city and its environs, and had found no testimony to the death or recent
+presence of Mr. Benedict. He hoped that Mr. Belcher was done with him,
+for he saw that his brutal will was the greatest obstacle to his reform.
+If he could get away from his master, he could begin life anew; for his
+professional brothers, who well remembered his better days, were ready
+to throw business into his hands, now that he had become himself again.
+
+"I suppose this ends it," said Yates, as he read his report, and passed
+it over into Mr. Belcher's hands.
+
+"Oh, you do!"
+
+"I do not see how I can be of further use to you."
+
+"Oh, you don't!"
+
+"I have certainly reason to be grateful for your assistance, but I have
+no desire to be a burden upon your hands. I think I can get a living now
+in my profession."
+
+"Then we've found that we have a profession, have we? We've become
+highly respectable."
+
+"I really don't see what occasion you have to taunt me. I have done my
+duty faithfully, and taken no more than my just pay for the labor I have
+performed."
+
+"Sam Yates, I took you out of the gutter. Do you know that?"
+
+"I do, sir."
+
+"Did you ever hear of my doing such a thing as that before?"
+
+"I never did."
+
+"What do you suppose I did it for?"
+
+"To serve yourself."
+
+"You are right; and now let me tell you that I am not done with you yet,
+and I shall not be done with you until I have in my hands a certificate
+of the death of Paul Benedict, and an instrument drawn up in legal form,
+making over to me all his right, title and interest in every patented
+invention of his which I am now using in my manufactures. Do you hear
+that?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"What have you to say to it? Are you going to live up to your pledge, or
+are you going to break with me?"
+
+"If I could furnish such an instrument honorably, I would do it."
+
+"Hm! I tell you, Sam Yates, this sort of thing won't do."
+
+Then Mr. Belcher left the room, and soon returned with a glass and a
+bottle of brandy. Setting them upon the table, he took the key from the
+outside of the door, inserted it upon the inside, turned it, and then
+withdrew it, and put it in his pocket. Yates rose and watched him, his
+face pale, and his heart thumping at his side like a tilt-hammer.
+
+"Sam Yates," said Mr. Belcher, "you are getting altogether too virtuous.
+Nothing will cure you but a good, old-fashioned drunk. Dip in, now, and
+take your fill. You can lie here all night if you wish to."
+
+Mr. Belcher drew the cork, and poured out a tumblerful of the choice
+old liquid. Its fragrance filled the little room. It reached the
+nostrils of the poor slave, who shivered as if an ague had smitten him.
+He hesitated, advanced toward the table, retreated, looked at Mr.
+Belcher, then at the brandy, then walked the room, then paused before
+Mr. Belcher, who had coolly watched the struggle from his chair. The
+victim of this passion was in the supreme of torment. His old thirst was
+roused to fury. The good resolutions of the preceding weeks, the moral
+strength he had won, the motives that had come to life within him, the
+promise of a better future, sank away into blank nothingness. A patch of
+fire burned on either cheek. His eyes were bloodshot.
+
+"Oh God! Oh God!" he exclaimed, and buried his face in his hands.
+
+"Fudge!" said Mr. Belcher. "What do you make an ass of yourself for?"
+
+"If you'll take these things out of the room, and see that I drink
+nothing to-night, I'll do anything. They are hell and damnation to me.
+Don't you see? Have you no pity on me? Take them away!"
+
+Mr. Belcher was surprised, but he had secured the promise he was after,
+and so he coolly rose and removed the offensive temptation.
+
+Yates sat down as limp as if he had had a sunstroke. After sitting a
+long time in silence, he looked up, and begged for the privilege of
+sleeping in the house. He did not dare to trust himself in the street
+until sleep had calmed and strengthened him.
+
+There was a lounge in the room, and, calling a servant, Mr. Belcher
+ordered blankets to be brought down. "You can sleep here to-night, and I
+will see you in the morning," said he, rising, and leaving him without
+even the common courtesy of a "good-night."
+
+Poor Sam Yates had a very bad night indeed. He was humiliated by the
+proof of his weakness, and maddened by the outrage which had been
+attempted upon him and his good resolutions. In the morning, he met Mr.
+Belcher, feeble and unrefreshed, and with seeming acquiescence received
+his directions for future work.
+
+"I want you to take the road from here to Sevenoaks, stopping at every
+town on the way. You can be sure of this: he is not near Sevenoaks. The
+whole county, and in fact the adjoining counties, were all ransacked to
+find him. He cannot have found asylum there; so he must be either
+between here and Sevenoaks, or must have gone into the woods beyond.
+There's a trapper there, one Jim Fenton. He may have come across him in
+the woods, alive or dead, and I want you to go to his camp and find out
+whether he knows anything. My impression is that he knew Benedict well,
+and that Benedict used to hunt with him. When you come back to me, after
+a faithful search, with the report that you can find nothing of him, or
+with the report of his death, we shall be ready for decisive operations.
+Write me when you have anything to write, and if you find it necessary
+to spend money to secure any very desirable end, spend it."
+
+Then Mr. Belcher put into the hands of his agent a roll of bank-notes,
+and armed him with a check that might be used in case of emergency, and
+sent him off.
+
+It took Yates six long weeks to reach Sevenoaks. He labored daily with
+the same faithfulness that had characterized his operations in the city,
+and, reaching Sevenoaks, he found himself for a few days free from care,
+and at liberty to resume the acquaintance with his early home, where he
+and Robert Belcher had been boys together.
+
+The people of Sevenoaks had long before heard of the fall of Sam Yates
+from his early rectitude. They had once been proud of him, and when he
+left them for the city, they expected to hear great things of him. So
+when they learned that, after entering upon his profession with
+brilliant promise, he had ruined himself with drink, they bemoaned him
+for a while, and at last forgot him. His relatives never mentioned him,
+and when, well dressed, dignified, self-respectful, he appeared among
+them again, it was like receiving one from the dead. The rejoicing of
+his relatives, the cordiality of his old friends and companions, the
+reviving influences of the scenes of his boyhood, all tended to build up
+his self-respect, reinforce his strength, and fix his determinations for
+a new life.
+
+Of course he did not make known his business, and of course he heard a
+thousand inquiries about Mr. Belcher, and listened to the stories of the
+proprietor's foul dealings with the people of his native town. His own
+relatives had been straitened or impoverished by the man's rascalities,
+and the fact was not calculated to strengthen his loyalty to his
+employer. He heard also the whole story of the connection of Mr. Belcher
+with Benedict's insanity, of the escape of the latter from the
+poor-house, and of the long and unsuccessful search that had been made
+for him.
+
+He spent a delightful week among his friends in the old village, learned
+about Jim Fenton and the way to reach him, and on a beautiful spring
+morning, armed with fishing tackle, started from Sevenoaks for a
+fortnight's absence in the woods. The horses were fresh, the air
+sparkling, and at mid-afternoon he found himself standing by the
+river-side, with a row of ten miles before him in a birch canoe, whose
+hiding-place Mike Conlin had revealed to him during a brief call at his
+house. To his unused muscles it was a serious task to undertake, but he
+was not a novice, and it was entered upon deliberately and with a
+prudent husbandry of his power of endurance. Great was the surprise of
+Jim and Mr. Benedict, as they sat eating their late supper, to hear the
+sound of the paddle down the river, and to see approaching them a city
+gentleman, who, greeting them courteously, drew up in front of their
+cabin, took out his luggage, and presented himself.
+
+"Where's Jim Fenton?" said Yates.
+
+"That's me. Them as likes me calls me Jim, and them as don't like
+me--wall, they don't call."
+
+"Well, I've called, and I call you Jim."
+
+"All right; let's see yer tackle," said Jim.
+
+Jim took the rod that Yates handed to him, looked it over, and then
+said: "When ye come to Sevenoaks ye didn't think o' goin' a fishin'.
+This 'ere tackle wasn't brung from the city, and ye ain't no old
+fisherman. This is the sort they keep down to Sevenoaks."
+
+"No," said Yates, flushing; "I thought I should find near you the tackle
+used here, so I didn't burden myself."
+
+"That seems reasomble," said Jim, "but it ain't. A trout's a trout
+anywhere, an' ye hain't got no reel. Ye never fished with anything but a
+white birch pole in yer life."
+
+Yates was amused, and laughed. Jim did not laugh. He was just as sure
+that Yates had come on some errand, for which his fishing tackle was a
+cover, as that he had come at all. He could think of but one motive that
+would bring the man into the woods, unless he came for sport, and for
+sport he did not believe his visitor had come at all. He was not dressed
+for it. None but old sportsmen, with nothing else to do, ever came into
+the woods at that season.
+
+"Jim, introduce me to your friend," said Yates, turning to Mr. Benedict,
+who had dropped his knife and fork, and sat uneasily witnessing the
+meeting, and listening to the conversation.
+
+"Well, I call 'im Number Ten. His name's Williams; an' now if ye ain't
+too tired, perhaps ye'll tell us what they call ye to home."
+
+"Well, I'm Number Eleven, and my name's Williams, too."
+
+"Then, if yer name's Williams, an' ye're Number 'leven, ye want some
+supper. Set down an' help yerself."
+
+Before taking his seat, Yates turned laughingly to Mr. Benedict, shook
+his hand, and "hoped for a better acquaintance."
+
+Jim was puzzled. The man was no ordinary man; he was good-natured; he
+was not easily perturbed; he was there with a purpose, and that purpose
+had nothing to do with sport After Yates had satisfied his appetite
+with the coarse food before him, and had lighted his cigar, Jim drove
+directly at business.
+
+"What brung ye here?" said he.
+
+"A pair of horses and a birch canoe."
+
+"Oh! I didn't know but 'twas a mule and a bandanner hankercher," said
+Jim; "and whar be ye goin' to sleep to-night?"
+
+"In the canoe, I suppose, if some hospitable man doesn't invite me to
+sleep in his cabin."
+
+"An' if ye sleep in his cabin, what be ye goin' to do to-morrer?"
+
+"Get up."
+
+"An' clear out?"
+
+"Not a bit of it."
+
+"Well, I love to see folks make themselves to home; but ye don't sleep
+in no cabin o' mine till I know who ye be, an' what ye're arter."
+
+"Jim, did you ever hear of entertaining angels unaware?" and Yates
+looked laughingly into his face.
+
+"No, but I've hearn of angels entertainin' theirselves on tin-ware, an'
+I've had 'em here."
+
+"Do you have tin peddlers here?" inquired Yates, looking around him.
+
+"No, but we have paupers sometimes," and Jim looked Yates directly in
+the eye.
+
+"What paupers?"
+
+"From Sevenoaks."
+
+"And do they bring tin-ware?"
+
+"Sartin they do; leastways, one on 'em did, an' I never seen but one in
+the woods, an' he come here one night tootin' on a tin horn, an' blowin'
+about bein' the angel Gabrel. Do you see my har?"
+
+"Rather bushy, Jim."
+
+"Well, that's the time it come up, an' it's never been tired enough to
+lay down sence."
+
+"What became of Gabriel?"
+
+"I skeered 'im, and he went off into the woods pertendin' he was tryin'
+to catch a bullet. That's the kind o' ball I allers use when I have a
+little game with a rovin' angel that comes kadoodlin' round me."
+
+"Did you ever see him afterward?" inquired Yates.
+
+"Yes, I seen him. He laid down one night under a tree, an' he wasn't
+called to breakfast, an' he never woke up. So I made up my mind he'd
+gone to play angel somewheres else, an' I dug a hole an' put 'im into
+it, an' he hain't never riz, if so be he wasn't Number 'leven, an' his
+name was Williams."
+
+Yates did not laugh, but manifested the most eager interest.
+
+"Jim," said he, "can you show me his bones, and swear to your belief
+that he was an escaped pauper?"
+
+"Easy."
+
+"Was there a man lost from the poor-house about that time?"
+
+"Yes, an' there was a row about it, an' arterward old Buffum was took
+with knowin' less than he ever knowed afore. He always did make a fuss
+about breathin', so he give it up."
+
+"Well, the man you buried is the man I'm after."
+
+"Yes, an' old Belcher sent ye. I knowed it. I smelt the old feller when
+I heern yer paddle. When a feller works for the devil it ain't hard to
+guess what sort of a angel _he_ is. Ye must feel mighty proud o' yer
+belongins."
+
+"Jim, I'm a lawyer; it's my business. I do what I'm hired to do."
+
+"Well," responded Jim, "I don't know nothin' about lawyers, but I'd
+rather be a natural born cuss nor a hired one."
+
+Yates laughed, but Jim was entirely sober. The lawyer saw that he was
+unwelcome, and that the sooner he was out of Jim's way, the better that
+freely speaking person would like it. So he said quietly:
+
+"Jim, I see that I am not welcome, but I bear you no ill will. Keep me
+to-night, and to-morrow show me this man's bones, and sign a certificate
+of the statements you have made to me, and I will leave you at once."
+
+The woodsman made no more objection, and the next morning, after
+breakfast, the three men went together and found the place of the
+pauper's burial. It took but a few minutes to disinter the skeleton,
+and, after a silent look at it, it was again buried, and all returned to
+the cabin. Then the lawyer, after asking further questions, drew up a
+paper certifying to all the essential facts in the case, and Jim signed
+it.
+
+"Now, how be ye goin' to get back to Sevenoaks?" inquired Jim.
+
+"I don't know. The man who brought me in is not to come for me for a
+fortnight."
+
+"Then ye've got to huff it," responded Jim.
+
+"It's a long way."
+
+"Ye can do it as fur as Mike's, an' he'll be glad to git back some o'
+the hundred dollars that old Belcher got out of him."
+
+"The row and the walk will be too much."
+
+"I'll take ye to the landing," said Jim.
+
+"I shall be glad to pay you for the job," responded Yates.
+
+"An' ef ye do," said Jim, "there'll be an accident, an' two men'll get
+wet, an' one on 'em'll stan' a chance to be drownded."
+
+"Well, have your own way," said Yates.
+
+It was not yet noon, and Jim hurried off his visitor. Yates bade
+good-bye to Benedict, jumped into Jim's boat, and was soon out of sight
+down the stream. The boat fairly leaped through the water under Jim's
+strong and steady strokes, and it seemed that only an hour had passed
+when the landing was discovered.
+
+They made the whole distance in silence. Jim, sitting at his oars, with
+Yates in the stern, had watched the lawyer with a puzzled expression. He
+could not read him. The man had not said a word about Benedict. He had
+not once pronounced his name. He was evidently amused with something,
+and had great difficulty in suppressing a smile. Again and again the
+amused expression suffused the lawyer's face, and still, by an effort of
+will, it was smothered. Jim was in torture. The man seemed to be in
+possession of some great secret, and looked as if he only waited an
+opportunity beyond observation to burst into a laugh.
+
+"What the devil ye thinkin' on?" inquired Jim at last.
+
+Yates looked him in the eyes, and replied coolly:
+
+"I was thinking how well Benedict is looking."
+
+Jim stopped rowing, holding his oars in the air. He was dumb. His face
+grew almost livid, and his hair seemed to rise and stand straight all
+over his head. His first impulse was to spring upon the man and throttle
+him, but a moment's reflection determined him upon another course. He
+let his oars drop into the water, and then took up the rifle, which he
+always carried at his side. Raising it to his eye, he said:
+
+"Now, Number 'leven, come an' take my seat. Ef ye make any fuss, I'll
+tip ye into the river, or blow yer brains out. Any man that plays
+traitor with Jim Fenton, gits traitor's fare."
+
+Yates saw that he had made a fatal mistake, and that it was too late to
+correct it. He saw that Jim was dangerously excited, and that it would
+not do to excite him further. He therefore rose, and with feigned
+pleasantry, said he should be very glad to row to the landing.
+
+Jim passed him and took a seat in the stern of the boat. Then, as Yates
+took up the oars, Jim raised his rifle, and, pointing it directly at the
+lawyer's breast, said:
+
+"Now, Sam Yates, turn this boat round."
+
+Yates was surprised in turn, bit his lips, and hesitated.
+
+"Turn this boat round, or I'll fix ye so't I can see through ye plainer
+nor I do now."
+
+"Surely, Jim, you don't mean to have me row back. I haven't harmed you."
+
+"Turn this boat round, quicker nor lightnin'."
+
+"There, it's turned," said Yates, assuming a smile.
+
+"Now row back to Number Nine."
+
+"Come, Jim," said Yates, growing pale with vexation and apprehension,
+"this fooling has gone far enough."
+
+"Not by ten mile," said Jim.
+
+"You surely don't mean to take me back. You have no right to do it. I
+can prosecute you for this."
+
+"Not if I put a bullet through ye, or drown ye."
+
+"Do you mean to have me row back to Number Nine?"
+
+"I mean to have you row back to Number Nine, or go to the bottom
+leakin'," responded Jim.
+
+Yates thought a moment, looked angrily at the determined man before him,
+as if he were meditating some rash experiment, and then dipped his oars
+and rowed up-stream.
+
+Great was the surprise of Mr. Benedict late in the afternoon to see
+Yates slowly rowing toward the cabin, and landing under cover of Jim's
+rifle, and the blackest face that he had ever seen above his good
+friend's shoulders.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+IN WHICH JIM CONSTRUCTS TWO HAPPY DAVIDS, RAISES HIS HOTEL, AND
+DISMISSES SAM YATES.
+
+
+When the boat touched the bank, Jim, still with his rifle pointed at the
+breast of Sam Yates, said:
+
+"Now git out, an' take a bee line for the shanty, an' see how many paces
+ye make on't."
+
+Yates was badly blown by his row of ten miles on the river, and could
+hardly stir from his seat; but Mr. Benedict helped him up the bank, and
+then Jim followed him on shore.
+
+Benedict looked from one to the other with mingled surprise and
+consternation, and then said:
+
+"Jim, what does this mean?"
+
+"It means," replied Jim, "that Number 'leven, an' his name is Williams,
+forgot to 'tend to his feelin's over old Tilden's grave, an' I've axed
+'im to come back an' use up his clean hankerchers. He was took with a
+fit o' knowin' somethin', too, an' I'm goin' to see if I can cure 'im.
+It's a new sort o' sickness for him, an' it may floor 'im."
+
+"I suppose there is no use in carrying on this farce any longer," said
+Yates. "I knew you, Mr. Benedict, soon after arriving here, and it seems
+that you recognized me; and now, here is my hand. I never meant you ill,
+and I did not expect to find you alive. I have tried my best to make you
+out a dead man, and so to report you; but Jim has compelled me to come
+back and make sure that you are alive."
+
+"No, I didn't," responded Jim. "I wanted to let ye know that I'm alive,
+and that I don't 'low no hired cusses to come snoopin' round my camp,
+an' goin' off with a haw-haw buttoned up in their jackets, without a
+thrashin'."
+
+Benedict, of course, stood thunderstruck and irresolute. He was
+discovered by the very man whom his old persecutor had sent for the
+purpose. He had felt that the discovery would be made sooner or
+later--intended, indeed, that it should be made--but he was not ready.
+
+They all walked to the cabin in moody silence. Jim felt that he had been
+hasty, and was very strongly inclined to believe in the sincerity of
+Yates; but he knew it was safe to be on his guard with any man who was
+in the employ of Mr. Belcher. Turk saw there was trouble, and whined
+around his master, as if inquiring whether there was anything that he
+could do to bring matters to an adjustment.
+
+"No, Turk; he's my game," said Jim. "Ye couldn't eat 'im no more nor ye
+could a muss rat."
+
+There were just three seats in the cabin--two camp-stools and a chest.
+
+"That's the seat for ye," said Jim to Yates, pointing to the chest.
+"Jest plant yerself thar. Thar's somethin' in that 'ere chest as'll make
+ye tell the truth."
+
+Yates looked at the chest and hesitated.
+
+"It ain't powder," said Jim, "but it'll blow ye worse nor powder, if ye
+don't tell the truth."
+
+Yates sat down. He had not appreciated the anxiety of Benedict to escape
+discovery, or he would not have been so silly as to bruit his knowledge
+until he had left the woods. He felt ashamed of his indiscretion, but,
+as he knew that his motives were good, he could not but feel that he had
+been outraged.
+
+"Jim, you have abused me," said he. "You have misunderstood me, and that
+is the only apology that you can make for your discourtesy. I was a fool
+to tell you what I knew, but you had no right to serve me as you have
+served me."
+
+"P'raps I hadn't," responded Jim, doubtfully.
+
+Yates went on:
+
+"I have never intended to play you a trick. It may be a base thing for
+me to do, but I intended to deceive Mr. Belcher. He is a man to whom I
+owe no good will. He has always treated me like a dog, and he will
+continue the treatment so long as I have anything to do with him; but he
+found me when I was very low, and he has furnished me with the money
+that has made it possible for me to redeem myself. Believe me, the
+finding of Mr. Benedict was the most unwelcome discovery I ever made."
+
+"Ye talk reasonable," said Jim; "but how be I goin' to know that ye're
+tellin' the truth?"
+
+"You cannot know," replied Yates. "The circumstances are all against me,
+but you will be obliged to trust me. You are not going to kill me; you
+are not going to harm me; for you would gain nothing by getting my ill
+will. I forgive your indignities, for it was natural for you to be
+provoked, and I provoked you needlessly--childishly, in fact; but after
+what I have said, anything further in that line will not be borne."
+
+"I've a good mind to lick ye now," said Jim, on hearing himself defied.
+
+"You would be a fool to undertake it," said Yates.
+
+"Well, what be ye goin' to tell old Belcher, anyway?" inquired Jim.
+
+"I doubt whether I shall tell him anything. I have no intention of
+telling him that Mr. Benedict is here, and I do not wish to tell him a
+lie. I have intended to tell him that in all my journey to Sevenoaks I
+did not find the object of my search, and that Jim Fenton declared that
+but one pauper had ever come into the woods and died there."
+
+"That's the truth," said Jim. "Benedict ain't no pauper, nor hain't been
+since he left the poor-house."
+
+"If he knows about old Tilden," said Yates, "and I'm afraid he does,
+he'll know that I'm on the wrong scent. If he doesn't know about him,
+he'll naturally conclude that the dead man was Mr. Benedict. That will
+answer his purpose."
+
+"Old Belcher ain't no fool," said Jim.
+
+"Well," said Yates, "why doesn't Mr. Benedict come out like a man and
+claim his rights? That would relieve me, and settle all the difficulties
+of the case."
+
+Benedict had nothing to say for this, for there was what he felt to be a
+just reproach in it.
+
+"It's the way he's made," replied Jim--"leastways, partly. When a man's
+ben hauled through hell by the har, it takes 'im a few days to git over
+bein' dizzy an' find his legs ag'in; an' when a man sells himself to old
+Belcher, he mustn't squawk an' try to git another feller to help 'im out
+of 'is bargain. Ye got into't, an' ye must git out on't the best way ye
+can."
+
+"What would you have me do?" inquired Yates.
+
+"I want to have ye sw'ar, an' sign a Happy David."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A Happy David. Ye ain't no lawyer if ye don't know what a Happy David
+is, and can't make one."
+
+Yates recognized, with a smile, the nature of the instrument disguised
+in Jim's pronunciation and conception, and inquired:
+
+"What would you have me to swear to?"
+
+"To what I tell ye."
+
+"Very well. I have pen and paper with me, and am ready to write. Whether
+I will sign the paper will depend upon its contents."
+
+"Be ye ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Here ye have it, then. 'I solem-ny sw'ar, s'welp me! that I hain't seen
+no pauper, in no woods, with his name as Benedict.'"
+
+Jim paused, and Yates, having completed the sentence, waited. Then Jim
+muttered to himself:
+
+"With his name _as_ Benedict--with his name _is_ Benedict--with his name
+_was_ Benedict."
+
+Then with a puzzled look, he said:
+
+"Yates, can't ye doctor that a little?"
+
+"Whose name was Benedict," suggested Yates.
+
+"Whose name was Benedict," continued Jim. "Now read it over, as fur as
+ye've got."
+
+"'I solemnly swear that I have seen no pauper in the woods whose name
+was Benedict.'"
+
+"Now look a here, Sam Yates! That sort o' thing won't do. Stop them
+tricks. Ye don't know me, an' ye don't know whar ye're settin' if you
+think that'll go down."
+
+"Why, what's the matter?"
+
+"I telled ye that Benedict was no pauper, an' ye say that ye've seen no
+pauper whose name was Benedict. That's jest tellin' that he's here. Oh,
+ye can't come that game! Now begin agin, an' write jest as I give it to
+ye. 'I solem-ny sw'ar, s'welp me! that I hain't seen no pauper, in no
+woods, whose name was Benedict.'"
+
+"Done," said Yates, "but it isn't grammar."
+
+"Hang the grammar!" responded Jim; "what I want is sense. Now jine this
+on: 'An' I solem-ny sw'ar, s'welp me! that I won't blow on Benedict, as
+isn't a pauper--no more nor Jim Fenton is--an' if so be as I do blow on
+Benedict--I give Jim Fenton free liberty, out and out--to lick
+me--without goin' to lor--but takin' the privlidge of self-defense.'"
+
+Jim thought a moment. He had wrought out a large phrase.
+
+"I guess," said he, "that covers the thing. Ye understand, don't ye,
+Yates, about the privlidge of self-defense?"
+
+"You mean that I may defend myself if I can, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. With the privlidge of self-defense. That's fair, an' I'd give it
+to a painter. Now read it all over."
+
+Jim put his head down between his knees, the better to measure every
+word, while Yates read the complete document. Then Jim took the paper,
+and, handing it to Benedict, requested him to see if it had been read
+correctly. Assured that it was all right, Jim turned his eyes severely
+on Yates, and said:
+
+"Sam Yates, do ye s'pose ye've any idee what it is to be licked by Jim
+Fenton? Do ye know what ye're sw'arin' to? Do ye reelize that I wouldn't
+leave enough on ye to pay for havin' a funeral?"
+
+Yates laughed, and said that he believed he understood the nature of an
+oath.
+
+"Then sign yer Happy David," said Jim.
+
+Yates wrote his name, and passed the paper into Jim's hands.
+
+"Now," said Jim, with an expression of triumph on his face, "I s'pose ye
+don't know that ye've be'n settin' on a Bible; but it's right under ye,
+in that chest, an' it's hearn and seen the whole thing. If ye don't
+stand by yer Happy David, there'll be somethin' worse nor Jim Fenton
+arter ye, an' when that comes, ye can jest shet yer eyes, and gi'en it
+up."
+
+This was too much for both Yates and Benedict. They looked into each
+other's eyes, and burst into a laugh. But Jim was in earnest, and not a
+smile crossed his rough face.
+
+"Now," said he, "I want to do a little sw'arin' myself, and I want ye to
+write it."
+
+Yates resumed his pen, and declared himself to be in readiness.
+
+"I solem-ny sw'ar," Jim began, "s'welp me! that I will lick Sam
+Yates--as is a lawyer--with the privlidge of self-defense--if he ever
+blows on Benedict--as is not a pauper--no more nor Jim Fenton is--an' I
+solem-ny sw'ar, s'welp me! that I'll foller 'im till I find 'im, an'
+lick 'im--with the privlidge of self-defense."
+
+Jim would have been glad to work in the last phrase again, but he seemed
+to have covered the whole ground, and so inquired whether Yates had got
+it all down.
+
+Yates replied that he had.
+
+"I'm a goin' to sign that, an' ye can take it along with ye. Swap
+seats."
+
+Yates rose, and Jim seated himself upon the chest.
+
+"I'm a goin' to sign this, settin' over the Bible. I ain't goin' to
+take no advantage on ye. Now we're squar'," said he, as he blazoned the
+document with his coarse and clumsy sign-manual. "Put that in yer
+pocket, an' keep it for five year."
+
+"Is the business all settled?" inquired Yates.
+
+"Clean," replied Jim.
+
+"When am I to have the liberty to go out of the woods?"
+
+"Ye ain't goin' out o' the woods for a fortnight. Ye're a goin' to stay
+here, an' have the best fishin' ye ever had in yer life. It'll do ye
+good, an' ye can go out when yer man comes arter ye. Ye can stay to the
+raisin', an' gi'en us a little lift with the other fellers that's
+comin'. Ye'll be as strong as a hoss when ye go out."
+
+An announcement more welcome than this could not have been made to Sam
+Yates; and now that there was no secrecy between them, and confidence
+was restored, he looked forward to a fortnight of enjoyment. He laid
+aside his coat, and, as far as possible, reduced his dress to the
+requirements of camp life. Jim and Mr. Benedict were very busy, so that
+he was obliged to find his way alone, but Jim lent him his
+fishing-tackle, and taught him how to use it; and, as he was an apt
+pupil, he was soon able to furnish more fish to the camp than could be
+used.
+
+Yates had many a long talk with Benedict, and the two men found many
+points of sympathy, around which they cemented a lasting friendship.
+Both, though in different ways, had been very low down in the valley of
+helpless misfortune; both had been the subjects of Mr. Belcher's brutal
+will; and both had the promise of a better life before them, which it
+would be necessary to achieve in opposition to that will. Benedict was
+strengthened by this sympathy, and became able to entertain plans for
+the assertion and maintenance of his rights.
+
+When Yates had been at the camp for a week and had taken on the color
+and the manner of a woodsman, there came one night to Number Nine a
+dozen men, to assist in the raising of Jim's hotel. They were from the
+mill where he had purchased his lumber, and numbered several neighbors
+besides, including Mike Conlin. They came up the old "tote-road" by the
+river side, and a herd of buffaloes on a stampede could hardly have made
+more noise. They were a rough, merry set, and Jim had all he could do to
+feed them. Luckily, trout were in abundant supply, and they supped like
+kings, and slept on the ground. The following day was one of the
+severest labor, but when it closed, the heaviest part of the timber had
+been brought and put up, and when the second day ended, all the timbers
+were in their place, including those which defined the outlines of Jim's
+"cupalo."
+
+When the frame was at last complete, the weary men retired to a
+convenient distance to look it over; and then they emphasized their
+approval of the structure by three rousing cheers.
+
+"Be gorry, Jim, ye must make us a spache," said Mike Conlin. "Ye've
+plenty iv blarney; now out wid it."
+
+But Jim was sober. He was awed by the magnitude of his enterprise. There
+was the building in open outline. There was no going back. For better or
+for worse, it held his destiny, and not only his, but that of one
+other--perhaps of others still.
+
+"A speech! a speech!" came from a dozen tongues.
+
+"Boys," said Jim, "there's no more talk in me now nor there is in one o'
+them chips. I don't seem to have no vent. I'm full, but it don't run. If
+I could stick a gimblet in somewhere, as if I was a cider-barrel, I
+could gi'en ye enough; but I ain't no barrel, an' a gimblet ain't no
+use. There's a man here as can talk. That's his trade, an' if he'll say
+what I ought to say, I shall be obleeged to 'im. Yates is a lawyer, an'
+it's his business to talk for other folks, an' I hope he'll talk for
+me."
+
+"Yates! Yates!" arose on all sides.
+
+Yates was at home in any performance of this kind, and, mounting a low
+stump, said:
+
+"Boys, Jim wants me to thank you for the great service you've rendered
+him. You have come a long distance to do a neighborly deed, and that
+deed has been generously completed. Here, in these forest shades, you
+have reared a monument to human civilization. In these old woods you
+have built a temple to the American household gods. The savage beasts of
+the wilderness will fly from it, and the birds will gather around it.
+The winter will be the warmer for the fire that will burn within it, and
+the spring will come earlier in prospect of a better welcome. The river
+that washes its feet will be more musical in its flow, because finer
+ears will be listening. The denizens of the great city will come here,
+year after year, to renew their wasted strength, and they will carry
+back with them the sweetest memories of these pure solitudes.
+
+"To build a human home, where woman lives and little children open their
+eyes upon life, and grow up and marry and die--a home full of love and
+toil, of pleasure and hope and hospitality, is to do the finest thing
+that a man can do. I congratulate you on what you have done for Jim, and
+what so nobly you have done for yourselves. Your whole life will be
+sweeter for this service, and when you think of a lovely woman presiding
+over this house, and of all the comfort it will be to the gentle folk
+that will fill it full, you will be glad that you have had a hand in
+it."
+
+Yates made his bow and stepped down. His auditors all stood for a
+moment, under an impression that they were in church and had heard a
+sermon. Their work had been so idealized for them--it had been endowed
+with so much meaning--it seemed so different from an ordinary
+"raising"--that they lost, momentarily, the consciousness of their own
+roughness and the homeliness of their surroundings.
+
+"Be gorry!" exclaimed Mike, who was the first to break the silence, "I'd
+'a' gi'en a dollar if me owld woman could 'a' heard that. Divil a bit
+does she know what I've done for her. I didn't know mesilf what a purty
+thing it was whin I built me house. It's betther nor goin' to the
+church, bedad."
+
+Three cheers were then given to Yates and three to Jim, and, the spell
+once dissolved, they went noisily back to the cabin and their supper.
+
+That evening Jim was very silent. When they were about lying down for
+the night, he took his blankets, reached into the chest, and withdrew
+something that he found there and immediately hid from sight, and said
+that he was going to sleep in his house. The moon was rising from behind
+the trees when he emerged from his cabin. He looked up at the tall
+skeleton of his future home, then approached it, and swinging himself
+from beam to beam, did not pause until he had reached the cupola. Boards
+had been placed across it for the convenience of the framers, and on
+these Jim threw his blankets. Under the little package that was to serve
+as his pillow he laid his Bible, and then, with his eyes upon the stars,
+his heart tender with the thoughts of the woman for whom he was rearing
+a home, and his mind oppressed with the greatness of his undertaking, he
+lay a long time in a waking dream. "If so be He cares," said Jim to
+himself--"if so be He cares for a little buildin' as don't make no show
+'longside o' His doin's up thar an' down here, I hope He sees that I've
+got this Bible under my head, an' knows what I mean by it. I hope the
+thing'll strike 'im favorable, an' that He knows, if He cares, that I'm
+obleeged to 'im."
+
+At last, slumber came to Jim--the slumber of the toiler, and early the
+next morning he was busy in feeding his helpers, who had a long day's
+walk before them. When, at last, they were all ferried over the river,
+and had started on their homeward way, Jim ascended to the cupola again,
+and waved his bandanna in farewell.
+
+Two days afterward, Sam Yates left his host, and rowed himself down to
+the landing in the same canoe by which he had reached Number Nine. He
+found his conveyance waiting, according to arrangement, and before night
+was housed among his friends at Sevenoaks.
+
+While he had been absent in the woods, there had been a conference
+among his relatives and the principal men of the town, which had
+resulted in the determination to keep him in Sevenoaks, if possible, in
+the practice of his profession.
+
+To Yates, the proposition was the opening of a door into safety and
+peace. To be among those who loved him, and had a certain pride in him;
+to be released from his service to Mr. Belcher, which he felt could go
+no farther without involving him in crime and dishonor; to be sustained
+in his good resolutions by the sympathy of friends, and the absence of
+his city companions and temptations, gave him the promise of perfect
+reformation, and a life of modest prosperity and genuine self-respect.
+
+He took but little time in coming to his conclusion, and his first
+business was to report to Mr. Belcher by letter. He informed that
+gentleman that he had concluded to remain in Sevenoaks; reported all his
+investigations on his way thither from New York; inclosed Jim's
+statement concerning the death of a pauper in the woods; gave an account
+of the disinterment of the pauper's bones in his presence; inclosed the
+money unused in expenses and wages, and, with thanks for what Mr.
+Belcher had done in helping him to a reform, closed his missive in such
+a manner as to give the impression that he expected and desired no
+further communication.
+
+Great was Mr. Belcher's indignation when he received this letter. He had
+not finished with Yates. He had anticipated exactly this result from the
+investigations. He knew about old Tilden, for Buffum had told him; and
+he did not doubt that Jim had exhibited to Yates the old man's bones. He
+believed that Benedict was dead, but he did not know. It would be
+necessary, therefore, to prepare a document that would be good in any
+event.
+
+If the reader remembers the opening chapter of this story, he will
+recall the statement of Miss Butterworth, that Mr. Belcher had followed
+Benedict to the asylum to procure his signature to a paper. This paper,
+drawn up in legal form, had been preserved, for Mr. Belcher was a
+methodical, business man; and when he had finished reading Yates's
+letter, and had exhausted his expletives after his usual manner, he
+opened a drawer, and, extracting the paper, read it through. It was more
+than six years old, and bore its date, and the marks of its age. All it
+needed was the proper signatures.
+
+He knew that he could trust Yates no longer. He knew, too, that he could
+not forward his own ends by appearing to be displeased. The reply which
+Yates received was one that astonished him by its mildness, its
+expression of satisfaction with his faithful labor, and its record of
+good wishes. Now that he was upon the spot, Mr. Yates could still serve
+him, both in a friendly and in a professional way. The first service he
+could render him was to forward to him autograph letters from the hands
+of two men deceased. He wished to verify the signatures of these men, he
+said, but as they were both dead, he, of course, could not apply to
+them.
+
+Yates did not doubt that there was mischief in this request. He guessed
+what it was, and he kept the letter; but after a few days he secured the
+desired autographs, and forwarded them to Mr. Belcher, who filed them
+away with the document above referred to. After that, the great
+proprietor, as a relief from the severe pursuits of his life, amused
+himself by experiments with inks and pens, and pencils, and with writing
+in a hand not his own, the names of "Nicholas Johnson" and "James
+Ramsey."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+IN WHICH MRS. DILLINGHAM MAKES SOME IMPORTANT DISCOVERIES, BUT FAILS TO
+REVEAL THEM TO THE READER.
+
+
+Mrs. Dillingham was walking back and forth alone through her long
+drawing-room. She was revolving in her mind a compliment, breathed into
+her ear by her friend Mrs. Talbot that day. Mrs. Talbot had heard from
+the mouth of one of Mrs. Dillingham's admirers the statement, confirmed
+with a hearty, good-natured oath, that he considered the fascinating
+widow "the best groomed woman in New York."
+
+The compliment conveyed a certain intimation which was not pleasant for
+her to entertain. She was indebted to her skill in self-"grooming" for
+the preservation of her youthful appearance. She had been conscious of
+this, but it was not pleasant to have the fact detected by her friends.
+Neither was it pleasant to have it bruited in society, and reported to
+her by one who rejoiced in the delicacy of the arrow which, feathered by
+friendship, she had been able to plant in the widow's breast.
+
+She walked to her mirror and looked at herself. There were the fine,
+familiar outlines of face and figure; there were the same splendid eyes;
+but a certain charm beyond the power of "grooming" to restore was gone.
+An incipient, almost invisible, brood of wrinkles was gathering about
+her eyes; there was a loss of freshness of complexion, and an expression
+of weariness and age, which, in the repose of reflection and
+inquisition, almost startled her.
+
+Her youth was gone, and, with it, the most potent charms of her person.
+She was hated and suspected by her own sex, and sought by men for no
+reason honorable either to her or to them. She saw that it was all, at
+no distant day, to have an end, and that when the end should come, her
+life would practically be closed. When the means by which she had held
+so many men in her power were exhausted, her power would cease. Into the
+blackness of that coming night she could not bear to look. It was full
+of hate, and disappointment, and despair. She knew that there was a
+taint upon her--the taint that comes to every woman, as certainly as
+death, who patently and purposely addresses, through her person, the
+sensuous element in men. It was not enough for her to remember that she
+despised the passion she excited, and contemned the men whom she
+fascinated. She knew it was better to lead even a swine by a golden
+chain than by the ears.
+
+She reviewed her relations to Mr. Belcher. That strong, harsh, brutal
+man, lost alike to conscience and honor, was in her hands. What should
+she do with him? He was becoming troublesome. He was not so easily
+managed as the most of her victims. She knew that, in his heart, he was
+carrying the hope that some time in the future, in some way, she would
+become his; that she had but to lift her finger to make the Palgrave
+mansion so horrible a hell that the wife and mother would fly from it in
+indignant despair. She had no intention of doing this. She wished for no
+more intimate relation with her victim than she had already established.
+
+There was one thing in which Mr. Belcher had offended and humiliated
+her. He had treated her as if he had fascinated her. In his stupid
+vanity, he had fancied that his own personal attractions had won her
+heart and her allegiance, and that she, and not himself, was the victim.
+He had tried to use her in the accomplishment of outside purposes; to
+make a tool of her in carrying forward his mercenary or knavish ends.
+Other men had striven to hide their unlovely affairs from her, but the
+new lover had exposed his, and claimed her assistance in carrying them
+forward. This was a degradation that she could not submit to. It did
+not natter her, or minister to her self-respect.
+
+Again and again had Mr. Belcher urged her to get the little Sevenoaks
+pauper into her confidence, and to ascertain whether his father were
+still living. She did not doubt that his fear of a man so poor and
+powerless as the child's father must be, was based in conscious knavery;
+and to be put to the use of deceiving a lad whose smile of affectionate
+admiration was one of the sweetest visions of her daily life, disgusted
+and angered her. The thought, in any man's mind, that she could be so
+base, in consideration of a guilty affection for him, as to betray the
+confidence of an innocent child on his behalf, disgraced and degraded
+her.
+
+And still she walked back and forth in her drawing-room. Her thoughts
+were uneasy and unhappy; there was no love in her life. That life was
+leading to no satisfactory consummation. How could it be changed? What
+could she do?
+
+She raised her eyes, looked across the street, and there saw, loitering
+along and casting furtive glances at her window, the very lad of whom
+she had been thinking. He had sought and waited for her recognition, and
+instead of receiving it in the usual way, saw a beckoning finger. He
+waited a moment, to be sure that he had not misunderstood the sign, and
+then, when it was repeated, crossed over, and stood at the door. Mrs.
+Dillingham admitted the boy, then called the servant, and told him that,
+while the lad remained, she would not be at home to any one. As soon as
+the pair were in the drawing-room she stooped and kissed the lad,
+warming his heart with a smile so sweet, and a manner so cordial and
+gracious, that he could not have told whether his soul was his own or
+hers.
+
+She led him to her seat, giving him none, but sitting with her arm
+around him, as he stood at her side.
+
+"You are my little lover, aren't you?" she said, with an embrace.
+
+"Not so very little!" responded Harry, with a flush.
+
+"Well, you love me, don't you?"
+
+"Perhaps I do," replied he, looking smilingly into her eyes.
+
+"You are a rogue, sir."
+
+"I'm not a bad rogue."
+
+"Kiss me."
+
+Harry put his arms around Mrs. Dillingham's neck and kissed her, and
+received a long, passionate embrace in return, in which her starved
+heart expressed the best of its powerful nature.
+
+Nor clouds nor low-born vapors drop the dew. It only gathers under a
+pure heaven and the tender eyes of stars. Mrs. Dillingham had always
+held a heart that could respond to the touch of a child. It was dark,
+its ways were crooked, it was not a happy heart, but for the moment her
+whole nature was flooded with a tender passion. A flash of lightning
+from heaven makes the darkest night its own, and gilds with glory the
+uncouth shapes that grope and crawl beneath its cover.
+
+"And your name is Harry?" she said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you mind telling me about yourself?"
+
+Harry hesitated. He knew that he ought not to do it. He had received
+imperative commands not to tell anybody about himself; but his
+temptation to yield to the beautiful lady's wishes was great, for he was
+heart-starved like herself. Mrs. Balfour was kind, even affectionate,
+but he felt that he had never filled the place in her heart of the boy
+she had lost. She did not take him into her embrace, and lavish caresses
+upon him. He had hungered for just this, and the impulse to show the
+whole of his heart and life to Mrs. Dillingham was irresistible.
+
+"If you'll never tell."
+
+"I will never tell, Harry."
+
+"Never, never tell?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"You are Mr. Belcher's friend, aren't you?"
+
+"I know Mr. Belcher."
+
+"If Mr. Belcher should tell you that he would kill you if you didn't
+tell, what would you do?"
+
+"I should call the police," responded Mrs. Dillingham, with a smile.
+
+Then Harry, in a simple, graphic way, told her all about the hard,
+wretched life in Sevenoaks, the death of his mother, the insanity of his
+father, the life in the poor-house, the escape, the recovery of his
+father's health, his present home, and the occasion of his own removal
+to New York. The narrative was so wonderful, so full of pathos, so
+tragic, so out of all proportion in its revelation of wretchedness to
+the little life at her side, that the lady was dumb. Unconsciously to
+herself--almost unconsciously to the boy--her arms closed around him,
+and she lifted him into her lap. There, with his head against her
+breast, he concluded his story; and there were tears upon his hair,
+rained from the eyes that bent above him. They sat for a long minute in
+silence. Then the lady, to keep herself from bursting into hysterical
+tears, kissed Harry again and again, exclaiming:
+
+"My poor, dear boy! My dear, dear child! And Mr. Belcher could have
+helped it all! Curse him!"
+
+The lad jumped from her arms as if he had received the thrust of a
+dagger, and looked at her with great, startled, wondering eyes. She
+recognized in an instant the awful indiscretion into which she had been
+betrayed by her fierce and sudden anger, and threw herself upon her
+knees before the boy, exclaiming:
+
+"Harry, you must forgive me. I was beside myself with anger. I did not
+know what I was saying. Indeed, I did not. Come to my lap again, and
+kiss me, or I shall be wretched."
+
+Harry still maintained his attitude and his silence. A furious word from
+an angel would not have surprised or pained him more than this
+expression of her anger, that had flashed upon him like a fire from
+hell.
+
+Still the lady knelt, and pleaded for his forgiveness.
+
+"No one loves me, Harry. If you leave me, and do not forgive me, I shall
+wish I were dead. You cannot be so cruel."
+
+"I didn't know that ladies ever said such words," said Harry.
+
+"Ladies who have little boys to love them never do," responded Mrs.
+Dillingham.
+
+"If I love you, shall you ever speak so again?" inquired Harry.
+
+"Never, with you and God to help me," she responded.
+
+She rose to her feet, led the boy to her chair, and once more held him
+in her embrace.
+
+"You can do me a great deal of good, Harry--a great deal more good than
+you know, or can understand. Men and women make me worse. There is
+nobody who can protect me like a child that trusts me. You can trust
+me."
+
+Then they sat a long time in a silence broken only by Harry's sobs, for
+the excitement and the reaction had shaken his nerves as if he had
+suffered a terrible fright.
+
+"You have never told me your whole name, Harry," she said tenderly, with
+the design of leading him away from the subject of his grief.
+
+"Harry Benedict."
+
+He felt the thrill that ran through her frame, as if it had been a shock
+of electricity. The arms that held him trembled, and half relaxed their
+hold upon him. Her heart struggled, intermitted its beat, then throbbed
+against his reclining head as if it were a hammer. He raised himself,
+and looked up at her face. It was pale and ghastly; and her eyes were
+dimly looking far off, as if unconscious of anything near.
+
+"Are you ill?"
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Are you ill?" with a voice of alarm.
+
+The blood mounted to her face again.
+
+"It was a bad turn," she said. "Don't mind it. I'm better now."
+
+"Isn't it better for me to sit in a chair?" he inquired, trying to
+rise.
+
+She tightened her grasp upon him.
+
+"No, no. I am better with you here. I wish you were never to leave me."
+
+Again they sat a long time in silence. Then she said:
+
+"Harry, can you write?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, there is a pencil on the table, and paper. Go and write your
+father's name. Then come and give me a kiss, and then go home. I shall
+see you again, perhaps to-night. I suppose I ought to apologize to Mrs.
+Balfour for keeping you so long."
+
+Harry did her bidding. She did not look at him, but turned her eyes to
+the window. There she saw Mr. Belcher, who had just been sent away from
+the door. He bowed, and she returned the bow, but the smile she summoned
+to her face by force of habit, failed quickly, for her heart had learned
+to despise him.
+
+Harry wrote the name, left it upon the table, and then came to get his
+kiss. The caress was calmer and tenderer than any she had given him. His
+instinct detected the change; and, when he bade her a good night, it
+seemed as if she had grown motherly,--as if a new life had been
+developed in her that subordinated the old,--as if, in her life, the sun
+had set, and the moon had risen.
+
+She had no doubt that as Harry left the door Mr. Belcher would see him,
+and seek admission at once on his hateful business, for, strong as his
+passion was for Mrs. Dillingham, he never forgot his knavish affairs, in
+which he sought to use her as a tool. So when she summoned the servant
+to let Harry out, she told him that if Mr. Belcher should call, he was
+to be informed that she was too ill to see him.
+
+Mr. Belcher did call within three minutes after the door closed on the
+lad. He had a triumphant smile on his face, as if he did not doubt that
+Mrs. Dillingham had been engaged in forwarding his own dirty work. His
+face blackened as he received her message, and he went wondering home,
+with ill-natured curses on his lips that will not bear repeating.
+
+Mrs. Dillingham closed the doors of her drawing-room, took the paper on
+which Harry had written, and resumed her seat. For the hour that lay
+between her and her dinner, she held the paper in her cold, wet hand.
+She knew the name she should find there, and she determined that before
+her eye should verify the prophecy of her heart, she would achieve
+perfect self-control.
+
+Excited by the interview with the lad, and the prescience of its waiting
+_denouement_, her mind went back into his and his father's history. Mr.
+Belcher could have alleviated that history; nay, prevented it
+altogether. What had been her own responsibility in the case? She could
+not have foreseen all the horrors of that history; but she, too, could
+have prevented it. The consciousness of this filled her with
+self-condemnation; yet she could not acknowledge herself to be on a
+level with Mr. Belcher. She was ready and anxious to right all the
+wrongs she had inflicted; he was bent on increasing and confirming them.
+She cursed him in her heart for his Injustice and cruelty, and almost
+cursed herself.
+
+But she dwelt most upon the future which the discoveries of the hour had
+rendered possible to herself. She had found a way out of her hateful
+life. She had found a lad who admired, loved, and trusted her, upon whom
+she could lavish her hungry affections--one, indeed, upon whom she had a
+right to lavish them. The life which she had led from girlhood was like
+one of those deep canons in the far West, down which her beautiful boat
+had been gliding between impassable walls that gave her only here and
+there glimpses of the heaven above. The uncertain stream had its
+fascinations. There were beautiful shallows over which she had glided
+smoothly and safely, rocks and rapids over which she had shot swiftly
+amid attractive dangers, crooked courses that led she did not know
+whither, landing-places where she could enjoy an hour of the kindly
+sun. But all the time she knew she was descending. The song of the
+waterfalls was a farewell song to scenes that could never be witnessed
+again. Far away perhaps, perhaps near, waited the waters of the gulf
+that would drink the sparkling stream into its sullen depths, and steep
+it in its own bitterness. It was beautiful all the way, but it was going
+down, down, down. It was seeking the level of its death; and the little
+boat that rode so buoyantly over the crests which betrayed the hidden
+rocks, would be but a chip among the waves of the broad, wild sea that
+waited at the end.
+
+Out of the fascinating roar that filled her ears; out of the sparkling
+rapids and sheeny reaches, and misty cataracts that enchanted her eyes;
+and out of the relentless drift toward the bottomless sea, she could be
+lifted! The sun shone overhead. There were rocks to climb where her
+hands would bleed; there were weary heights to scale; but she knew that
+on the top there were green pastures and broad skies, and the music of
+birds--places where she could rest, and from which she could slowly find
+her way back, in loving companionship, to the mountains of purity from
+which she had come.
+
+She revolved the possibilities of the future; and, provided the little
+paper in her hand should verify her expectations, she resolved to
+realize them. During the long hour in which she sat thinking, she
+discounted the emotion which the little paper in her hand held for her,
+so that, when she unfolded it and read it, she only kissed it, and
+placed it in her bosom.
+
+After dinner, she ordered her carriage. Then, thinking that it might be
+recognized by Mr. Belcher, she changed her order, and sent to a public
+stable for one that was not identified with herself; and then, so
+disguising her person that in the evening she would not be known, she
+ordered the driver to take her to Mr. Balfour's.
+
+Mrs. Dillingham had met Mr. Balfour many times, but she had never,
+though on speaking terms with her, cultivated Mrs. Balfour's
+acquaintance, and that lady did not fail to show the surprise she felt
+when her visitor was announced.
+
+"I have made the acquaintance of your little ward," said Mrs.
+Dillingham, "and we have become good friends. I enticed him into my
+house to-day, and as I kept him a long time, I thought I would come over
+and apologize for his absence."
+
+"I did not know that he had been with you," said Mrs. Balfour, coolly.
+
+"He could do no less than come to me when I asked him to do so," said
+Mrs. Dillingham; "and I was entirely to blame for his remaining with me
+so long. You ladies who have children cannot know how sweet their
+society sometimes is to those who have none."
+
+Mrs. Balfour was surprised. She saw in her visitor's eyes the evidence
+of recent tears, and there was a moisture in them then, and a subdued
+and tender tone to her voice which did not harmonize at all with her
+conception of Mrs. Dillingham's nature and character. Was she trying her
+arts upon her? She knew of her intimacy with Mr. Belcher, and naturally
+connected the visit with that unscrupulous person's schemes.
+
+Mrs. Balfour was soon relieved by the entrance of her husband, who
+greeted Mrs. Dillingham in the old, stereotyped, gallant way in which
+gentlemen were accustomed to address her. How did she manage to keep
+herself so young? Would she be kind enough to give Mrs. Balfour the name
+of her hair-dresser? What waters had she bathed in, what airs had she
+breathed, that youth should clothe her in such immortal fashion?
+
+Quite to his surprise, Mrs. Dillingham had nothing to say to this
+badinage. She seemed either not to hear it at all, or to hear it with
+impatience. She talked in a listless way, and appeared to be thinking of
+anything but what was said.
+
+At last, she asked Mr. Balfour if she could have the liberty to obtrude
+a matter of business upon him. She did not like to interfere with his
+home enjoyments, but he would oblige her much by giving her half an hour
+of private conversation. Mr. Balfour looked at his wife, received a
+significant glance, and invited the lady into his library.
+
+It was a long interview. Nine o'clock, ten o'clock, eleven o'clock
+sounded, and then Mrs. Balfour went upstairs. It was nearly midnight
+when Mrs. Dillingham emerged from the door. She handed a bank-note to
+the impatient coachman, and ordered him to drive her home. As she passed
+Mr. Belcher's corner of the street, she saw Phipps helping his master to
+mount the steps. He had had an evening of carousal among some of his new
+acquaintances. "Brute!" she said to herself, and withdrew her head from
+the window.
+
+Admitted at her door, she went to her room in her unusual wrappings,
+threw herself upon her knees, and buried her face in her bed. She did
+not pray; she hardly lifted her thoughts. She was excessively weary. Why
+she knelt she did not know; but on her knees she thought over the
+occurrences of the evening. Her hungry soul was full--full of hopes,
+plans, purposes. She had found something to love.
+
+What is that angel's name who, shut away from ten thousand selfish,
+sinful lives, stands always ready, when the bearers of those lives are
+tired of them, and are longing for something better, to open the door
+into a new realm? What patience and persistence are his! Always waiting,
+always prepared, cherishing no resentments, willing to lead, anxious to
+welcome, who is he, and whence came he? If Mrs. Dillingham did not pray,
+she had a vision of this heavenly visitant, and kissed the hem of his
+garments.
+
+She rose and walked to her dressing-table. There she found a note in
+Mrs. Belcher's handwriting, inviting her to a drive in the Park with her
+and Mr. Belcher on the following afternoon. Whether the invitation was
+self-moved, or the result of a suggestion from Mr. Belcher, she did not
+know. In truth, she did not care. She had wronged Mrs. Belcher in many
+ways, and she would go.
+
+Why was it that when the new and magnificent carriage rolled up to her
+door the next afternoon, with its wonderful horses and showy equipage,
+and appointments calculated to attract attention, her heart was smitten
+with disgust? She was to be stared at; and, during all the drive, she
+was to sit face to face with a man who believed that he had fascinated
+her, and who was trying to use her for all the base purposes in which it
+was possible for her to serve his will. What could she do with him? How,
+in the new relations of her life to him, should she carry herself?
+
+The drive was a quiet one. Mr. Belcher sat and feasted his greedy,
+exultant eyes on the woman before him, and marveled at the adroitness
+with which, to use his own coarse phrase, she "pulled the wool" over the
+eyes of his wife. In what a lovely way did she hide her passion for him!
+How sweetly did she draw out the sympathy of the deceived woman at her
+side! Ah! he could trust her! Her changed, amiable, almost pathetic
+demeanor was attributed by him to the effect of his power upon her, and
+her own subtle ingenuity in shielding from the eyes of Mrs. Belcher a
+love that she deemed hopeless. In his own mind it was not hopeless. In
+his own determination, it should not be!
+
+As for Mrs. Belcher, she had never so much enjoyed Mrs. Dillingham's
+society before. She blamed herself for not having understood her better;
+and when she parted with her for the day, she expressed in hearty terms
+her wish that she might see more of her in the future.
+
+Mrs. Dillingham, on the return, was dropped at her own door first. Mr.
+Belcher alighted, and led her up the steps. Then, in a quiet voice, he
+said:
+
+"Did you find out anything of the boy?"
+
+"Yes, some things, but none that it would be of advantage to you to
+know."
+
+"Well, stick to him, now that you have got hold of him."
+
+"I intend to."
+
+"Good for you!"
+
+"I imagine that he has been pretty well drilled," said Mrs. Dillingham,
+"and told just what he may and must not say to any one."
+
+"You can work it out of him. I'll risk you."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham could hardly restrain her impatience, but said quietly:
+
+"I fancy I have discovered all the secrets I shall ever discover in him.
+I like the boy, and shall cultivate his acquaintance; but, really, it
+will not pay you to rely upon me for anything. He is under Mr. Balfour's
+directions, and very loyal."
+
+Mr. Belcher remembered his own interview with the lad, and recognized
+the truth of the statement. Then he bade her good-bye, rejoined his
+wife, and rode home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+IN WHICH MR. BELCHER BECOMES PRESIDENT OF THE CROOKED VALLEY RAILROAD,
+WITH LARGE "TERMINAL FACILITIES," AND MAKES AN ADVENTURE INTO A
+LONG-MEDITATED CRIME.
+
+
+Mr. Belcher had never made money so rapidly as during the summer
+following his removal to New York. The tides of wealth rolled in faster
+than he could compute them. Twenty regiments in the field had been armed
+with the Belcher rifle, and the reports of its execution and its
+popularity among officers and men, gave promise of future golden
+harvests to the proprietor. Ten thousand of them had been ordered by the
+Prussian Government. His agents in France, Russia, Austria, and Italy,
+all reported encouragingly concerning their attempts to introduce the
+new arm into the military service of those countries. The civil war had
+advanced the price of, and the demand for, the products of his mills at
+Sevenoaks. The people of that village had never before received so good
+wages, or been so fully employed. It seemed as if there were work for
+every man, woman and child, who had hands willing to work. Mr. Belcher
+bought stocks upon a rising market, and unloaded again and again,
+sweeping into his capacious coffers his crops of profits. Bonds that
+early in the war could be bought for a song, rose steadily up to par.
+Stocks that had been kicked about the market for years, took on value
+from day to day, and asserted themselves as fair investments. From
+these, again and again, he harvested the percentage of advance, until
+his greed was gorged.
+
+That he enjoyed his winnings, is true; but the great trouble with him
+was that, beyond a certain point, he could show nothing for them. He
+lived in a palace, surrounded by every appointment of luxury that his
+wealth could buy. His stables held the choicest horse-flesh that could
+be picked out of the whole country, from Maine to Kentucky. His diamond
+shirt-studs were worth thousands. His clothes were of the most expensive
+fabrics, made at the top of the style. His wife and children had money
+lavished upon them without stint. In the direction of show, he could do
+no more. It was his glory to drive in the Park alone, with his servants
+in livery and his four horses, fancying that he was the observed of all
+observers, and the envied of all men.
+
+Having money still to spend, it must find a market in other directions.
+He gave lavish entertainments at his club, at which wine flowed like
+water, and at which young and idle men were gathered in and debauched,
+night after night. He was surrounded by a group of flatterers who
+laughed at his jokes, repeated them to the public, humored his caprices,
+and lived upon his hospitalities. The plain "Colonel Belcher" of his
+first few months in New York, grew into the "General," so that Wall
+street knew him, at last, by that title, without the speaking of his
+name. All made way for "the General" whenever he appeared. "The General"
+was "bulling" this stock, and "bearing" that. All this was honey to his
+palate, and he was enabled to forget something of his desire for show in
+his love of glory. Power was sweet, as well as display.
+
+Of course, "the General" had forsaken, somewhat, his orderly habits of
+life--those which kept him sound and strong in his old country home. He
+spent few evenings with his family. There was so genuine a passion in
+his heart for Mrs. Dillingham, that he went into few excesses which
+compromised a fair degree of truthfulness to her; but he was in the
+theaters, in the resorts of fast men, among the clubs, and always late
+in his bed. Phipps had a hard time in looking after and waiting upon
+him, but had a kind of sympathetic enjoyment in it all, because he knew
+there was more or less of wickedness connected with it.
+
+Mr. Belcher's nights began to tell upon his days. It became hard for him
+to rise at his old hours; so, after a while, he received the calls of
+his brokers in bed. From nine to ten, Mr. Belcher, in his embroidered
+dressing-gown, with his breakfast at his side, gave his orders for the
+operations of the day. The bedroom became the General's headquarters,
+and there his staff gathered around him. Half a dozen cabs and carriages
+at his door in the morning became a daily recurring vision to residents
+and habitual passengers.
+
+Mr. Talbot, not a regular visitor at this hour, sometimes mingled with
+the brokers, though he usually came late for the purpose of a private
+interview. He had managed to retain the General's favor, and to be of
+such use to him that that gentleman, in his remarkable prosperity, had
+given up the idea of reducing his factor's profits.
+
+One morning, after the brokers and the General's lawyer were gone,
+Talbot entered, and found his principal still in bed.
+
+"Toll, it's a big thing," said Mr. Belcher.
+
+"I believe you."
+
+"Toll, what did I tell you? I've always worked to a programme, and
+exactly this was my programme when I came here. How's your wife?"
+
+"Quite well."
+
+"Why don't we see more of her?"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Talbot is a quiet woman, and knows her place. She isn't
+quite at home in such splendors as yours, you know, and she naturally
+recognizes my relations to you."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, nonsense, Toll! She mustn't feel that way. I like her.
+She is a devilish handsome woman."
+
+"I shall tell her that you say so," said the obsequious Mr. Talbot.
+
+"Toll, my boy, I've got an idea."
+
+"Cherish it, General; you may never have another."
+
+"Good for you. I owe you one."
+
+"Not at all, General. I'm only paying off old debts."
+
+"Toll, how are you doing now? Getting a living?"
+
+"Thanks to you, General, I am thriving in a modest way. I don't aspire
+to any such profits as you seem to win so easily, so I have no fault to
+find."
+
+"The General has been a godsend to you, hasn't he, eh? Happy day when
+you made his acquaintance, eh? Well, go ahead; it's all right. Pile it
+up while you can."
+
+"But you haven't told me about your idea," Mr. Talbot suggested.
+
+"Well, Toll, I'm pining for a railroad. I'm crying nights for a
+railroad. A fellow must have amusements you know. Health must be taken
+care of, eh? All the fellows have railroads. It's well enough to keep
+horses and go to the theater. A steamship line isn't bad, but the
+trouble is, a man can't be captain of his own vessels. No, Toll; I need
+a railroad. I'm yearning for engines, and double tracks, and running
+over my own line."
+
+"You might buy up a European kingdom or two, at a pinch, General."
+
+"Yes; but, Toll, you don't know what terminal facilities I've got for a
+railroad."
+
+"Your pocket will answer for one end," said Talbot, laughing.
+
+"Right, the first time," responded the General, "and glory will answer
+for the other. Toll, do you know what I see at the other end?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I see a man of about the size of Robert Belcher in the chair of an
+Alderman. I see him seated on a horse, riding down Broadway at the head
+of a regiment. I see him Mayor of the City of New York. I see him
+Governor of the State. I see him President of the United States. I see
+no reason why he cannot hold any one, or all these offices. All doors
+yield to a golden key. Toll, I haven't got to go as far as I have come,
+to reach the top. Do you know it? Big thing! Yes, Toll, I must have a
+railroad."
+
+"Have you selected the toy you propose to purchase?" inquired Talbot.
+
+"Well, I've looked about some; but the trouble is, that all the best of
+'em are in hands that can hold them. I must buy a poor one and build it
+up, or make it build me up."
+
+"That's a pity."
+
+"I don't know about that. The big ones are hard to handle, and I'm not
+quite big enough for them yet. What do you say to the Crooked Valley?"
+
+"Poor road, and wants connections."
+
+"Those are exactly the points. I can buy it for a song, issue bonds, and
+build the connections--issue plenty of bonds, and build plenty of
+connections. Terminal facilities large--? do you understand? Eh, Toll?"
+
+Mr. Talbot laughed.
+
+"I don't think you need any suggestions from me," he said.
+
+"No; the General can manage this thing without help. He only wanted to
+open your eyes a little, and get you ready for your day's work. You
+fellows who fiddle around with a few goods need waking up occasionally.
+Now, Toll, go off and let the General get up. I must have a railroad
+before night, or I shall not be able to sleep a wink. By-by!"
+
+Talbot turned to leave the room, when Mr. Belcher arrested him with the
+question:
+
+"Toll, would you like an office in the Crooked Valley corporation?"
+
+Talbot knew that the corporation would have a disgraceful history, and a
+disastrous end--that it would be used by the General for the purposes of
+stealing, and that the head of it would not be content to share the
+plunder with others. He had no wish to be his principal's cat's-paw, or
+to be identified with an enterprise in which, deprived of both will and
+voice, he should get neither profit nor credit. So he said:
+
+"No, I thank you; I have all I can do to take care of your goods, and I
+am not ambitious."
+
+"There'll be nothing for you to do, you know. I shall run the whole
+thing."
+
+"I can serve you better, General, where I am."
+
+"Well, by-by; I won't urge you."
+
+After Talbot left, Mr. Belcher rose and carefully dressed himself.
+Phipps was already at the door with the carriage, and, half an hour
+afterward, the great proprietor, full of his vain and knavish projects,
+took his seat in it, and was whirled off down to Wall street. His
+brokers had already been charged with his plans, and, before he reached
+the ground, every office where the Crooked Valley stock was held had
+been visited, and every considerable deposit of it ascertained, so that,
+before night, by one grand swoop, the General had absorbed a controlling
+interest in the corporation.
+
+A few days afterward, the annual meeting was held, Mr. Belcher was
+elected President, and every other office was filled by his creatures
+and tools. His plans for the future of the road gradually became known,
+and the stock began to assume a better position on the list. Weak and
+inefficient corporations were already in existence for completing the
+various connections of the road, and of these he immediately, and for
+moderate sums, bought the franchises. Within two months, bonds were
+issued for building the roads, and the roads themselves were put under
+contract. The "terminal facilities" of one end of every contract were
+faithfully attended to by Mr. Belcher. His pockets were still capacious
+and absorbent. He parted with so much of his appreciated stock as he
+could spare without impairing his control, and so at the end of a few
+months, found himself in the possession of still another harvest. Not
+only this, but he found his power increased. Men watched him, and
+followed him into other speculations. They hung around him, anxious to
+get indications of his next movement. They flattered him; they fawned
+upon him; and to those whom he could in any way use for his own
+purposes, he breathed little secrets of the market from which they won
+their rewards. People talked about what "the General" was doing, and
+proposed to do, as if he were a well-recognized factor in the financial
+situation.
+
+Whenever he ran over his line, which he often did for information and
+amusement, and for the pleasure of exercising his power, he went in a
+special car, at break-neck speed, by telegraph, always accompanied by a
+body of friends and toadies, whom he feasted on the way. Everybody
+wanted to see him. He was as much a lion as if he had been an Emperor or
+a murderer. To emerge upon a platform at a way-station, where there were
+hundreds of country people who had flocked in to witness the exhibition,
+was his great delight. He spoke to them familiarly and good-naturedly;
+transacted his business with a rush; threw the whole village into
+tumult; waved his hand; and vanished in a cloud of dust. Such
+enterprise, such confidence, such strength, such interest in the local
+prosperities of the line, found their natural result in the absorption
+of the new bonds. They were purchased by individuals and municipal
+corporations. Freight was diverted from its legitimate channels, and
+drawn over the road at a loss; but it looked like business. Passes were
+scattered in every direction, and the passenger traffic seemed to double
+at once. All was bustle, drive, business. Under a single will, backed by
+a strong and orderly executive capacity, the dying road seemed to leap
+into life. It had not an _employe_ who did not know and take off his hat
+to the General. He was a kind of god, to whom they all bowed down; and
+to be addressed or chaffed by him was an honor to be reported to
+friends, and borne home with self-gratulations to wives and children.
+
+The General, of course, had moments of superlative happiness. He never
+had enjoyed anything more than he enjoyed his railroad. His notoriety
+with the common people along the line--the idea which they cherished
+that he could do anything he wished to do; that he had only to lift his
+hand to win gold to himself or to bear it to them--these were pleasant
+in themselves; but to have their obeisance witnessed by his city friends
+and associates, while they discussed his champagne and boned turkey from
+the abounding hampers which always furnished "the President's car"--this
+was the crown of his pleasure. He had a pleasure, too, in business. He
+never had enough to do, and the railroad which would have loaded down an
+ordinary man with an ordinary conscience, was only a pleasant diversion
+to him. Indeed, he was wont to reiterate, when rallied upon his new
+enterprise: "The fact was, I had to do something for my health, you
+know."
+
+Still, the General was not what could be called a thoroughly happy man.
+He knew the risks he ran on Change. He had been reminded, by two or
+three mortifying losses, that the sun did not always shine on Wall
+street. He knew that his railroad was a bubble, and that sooner or later
+it would burst. Times would change, and, after all, there was nothing
+that would last like his manufactures. With a long foresight, he had
+ordered the funds received from the Prussian sales of the Belcher rifle
+to be deposited with a European banking house at interest, to be drawn
+against in his foreign purchases of material; yet he never drew against
+this deposit. Self-confident as he was, glutted with success as he was,
+he had in his heart a premonition that some time he might want that
+money just where it was placed. So there it lay, accumulating interest.
+It was an anchor to windward, that would hold him if ever his bark
+should drift into shallow or dangerous waters.
+
+The grand trouble was, that he did not own a single patent by which he
+was thriving in both branches of his manufactures. He had calculated
+upon worrying the inventor into a sale, and had brought his designs very
+nearly to realization, when he found, to his surprise and discomfiture,
+that he had driven him into a mad-house. Rich as he was, therefore,
+there was something very unsubstantial in his wealth, even to his own
+apprehension. Sometimes it all seemed like a bubble, which a sudden
+breath would wreck. Out of momentary despondencies, originating in
+visions like these, he always rose with determinations that nothing
+should come between him and his possessions and prosperities which his
+hand, by fair means or foul, could crush.
+
+Mr. Balfour, a lawyer of faultless character and undoubted courage, held
+his secret. He could not bend him or buy him. He was the one man in all
+the world whom he was afraid of. He was the one man in New York who knew
+whether Benedict was alive or not. He had Benedict's heir in his house,
+and he knew that by him the law would lay its hand on him and his
+possessions. He only wondered that the action was delayed. Why was it
+delayed? Was he, Mr. Belcher, ready for it? He knew he was not, and he
+saw but one way by which he could become so. Over this he hesitated,
+hoping that some event would occur which would render his projected
+crime unnecessary.
+
+Evening after evening, when every member of his family was in bed, he
+shut himself in his room, looked behind every article of furniture to
+make himself sure that he was alone, and then drew from its drawer the
+long unexecuted contract with Mr. Benedict, with the accompanying
+autograph letters, forwarded to him by Sam Yates. Whole quires of paper
+he traced with the names of "Nicholas Johnson" and "James Ramsey." After
+he had mastered the peculiarities of their signs manual, he took up that
+of Mr. Benedict. Then he wrote the three names in the relations in which
+he wished them to appear on the document. Then he not only burned all
+the paper he had used, in the grate, but pulverized its ashes.
+
+Not being able to ascertain whether Benedict were alive or dead, it
+would be necessary to produce a document which would answer his purpose
+in either case. Of course, it would be requisite that its date should
+anticipate the inventor's insanity. He would make one more effort to
+ascertain a fact that had so direct a relation to his future security.
+
+Accordingly, one evening after his railroad scheme was fairly
+inaugurated, he called on Mrs. Dillingham, determined to obtain from her
+what she knew. He had witnessed for months her fondness for Harry
+Benedict. The boy had apparently with the consent of the Balfours, been
+frequently in her house. They had taken long drives together in the
+Park. Mr. Belcher felt that there was a peculiar intimacy between the
+two, yet not one satisfactory word had he ever heard from the lady about
+her new pet. He had become conscious, too, of a certain change in her.
+She had been less in society, was more quiet than formerly, and more
+reticent in his presence, though she had never repulsed him. He had
+caught fewer glimpses of that side of her nature and character which he
+had once believed was sympathetic with his own. Misled by his own vanity
+into the constant belief that she was seriously in love with himself, he
+was determined to utilize her passion for his own purposes. If she would
+not give kisses, she should give confidence.
+
+"Mrs. Dillingham," he said, "I have been waiting to hear something about
+your pauper _protege_, and I have come to-night to find out what you
+know about him and his father."
+
+"If I knew of anything that would be of real advantage to you, I would
+tell you, but I do not," she replied.
+
+"Well, that's an old story. Tell that to the marines. I'm sick of it."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham's face flushed.
+
+"I prefer to judge for myself, if it's all the same to you," pursued the
+proprietor. "You've had the boy in your hands for months, and you know
+him, through and through, or else you are not the woman I have taken you
+for."
+
+"You have taken me for, Mr. Belcher?"
+
+"Nothing offensive. Don't roll up your pretty eyes in that way."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham was getting angry.
+
+"Please don't address me in that way again," she said.
+
+"Well, what the devil have you to do with the boy any way, if you are
+not at work for me? That's what I'd like to know."
+
+"I like him, and he is fond of me."
+
+"I don't see how that helps me," responded Mr. Belcher.
+
+"It is enough for me that I enjoy it."
+
+"Oh, it is!"
+
+"Yes, it is," with an emphatic nod of the head.
+
+"Perhaps you think that will go down with me. Perhaps you are not
+acquainted with my way of doing business."
+
+"Are you doing business with me, Mr. Belcher? Am I a partner of yours?
+If I am, perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me--business-like
+enough to tell me--why you wish me to worm secrets out of this boy."
+
+It was Mr. Belcher's turn to color.
+
+"No, I will not. I trust no woman with my affairs. I keep my own
+councils."
+
+"Then do your own business," snappishly.
+
+"Mrs. Dillingham, you and I are friends--destined, I trust, to be better
+friends--closer friends--than we have ever been. This boy is of no
+consequence to you, and you cannot afford to sacrifice a man who can
+serve you more than you seem to know, for him."
+
+"Well," said the lady, "there is no use in acting under a mask any
+longer. I would not betray the confidence of a child to serve any man I
+ever saw. You have been kind to me, but you have not trusted me. The lad
+loves me, and trusts me, and I will never betray him. What I tell you is
+true. I have learned nothing from him that can be of any genuine
+advantage to you. That is all the answer you will ever get from me. If
+you choose to throw away our friendship, you can take the
+responsibility," and Mrs. Dillingham hid her face in her handkerchief.
+
+Mr. Belcher had been trying an experiment, and he had not
+succeeded--could not succeed; and there sat the beautiful, magnanimous
+woman before him, her heart torn as he believed with love for him, yet
+loyal to her ideas of honor as they related to a confiding child! How
+beautiful she was! Vexed he certainly was, but there was a balm for his
+vexation in these charming revelations of her character.
+
+"Well," he said rising, and in his old good-natured tone, "there's no
+accounting for a woman. I'm not going to bother you."
+
+He seized her unresisting hand, pressed it to his lips, and went away.
+He did not hear the musical giggle that followed him into the street,
+but, absorbed by his purpose, went home and mounted to his room. Locking
+the door, and peering about among the furniture, according to his
+custom, he sat down at his desk, drew out the old contract, and started
+at his usual practice. "Sign it," he said to himself, "and then you can
+use it or not--just as you please. It's not the signing that will
+trouble you; it's the using."
+
+He tried the names all over again, and then, his heart beating heavily
+against the desk, he spread the document and essayed his task. His heart
+jarred him. His hand trembled. What could he do to calm himself? He rose
+and walked to his mirror, and found that he was pale. "Are you afraid?"
+he said to himself. "Are you a coward? Ha! ha! ha! ha! Did I laugh? My
+God! how it sounded! Aren't you a pretty King of Wall Street! Aren't you
+a lovely President of the Crooked Valley Railroad! Aren't you a sweet
+sort of a nabob! You _must_ do it! Do you hear? You _must_ do it! Eh? do
+you hear? Sit down, sir! Down with you, sir! and don't you rise again
+until the thing is done."
+
+The heart-thumping passed away. The reaction, under the strong spur and
+steady push of will, brought his nerves up to steadiness, and he sat
+down, took his pencils and pens that had been selected for the service,
+and wrote first the name of Paul Benedict, and then, as witnesses, the
+names of Nicholas Johnson and James Ramsey.
+
+So the document was signed, and witnessed by men whom he believed to be
+dead. The witnesses whose names he had forged he knew to be dead. With
+this document he believed he could defend his possession of all the
+patent rights on which the permanence of his fortune depended. He
+permitted the ink to dry, then folded the paper, and put it back in its
+place. Then he shut and opened the drawer, and took it out again. It had
+a genuine look.
+
+Then he rang his bell and called for Phipps. When Phipps appeared, he
+said:
+
+"Well, Phipps, what do you want?"
+
+"Nothing, sir," and Phipps smiled.
+
+"Very well; help yourself."
+
+"Thank you, sir," and Phipps rubbed his hands.
+
+"How are you getting along in New York, Phipps?"
+
+"Very well, sir."
+
+"Big thing to be round with the General, isn't it? It's a touch above
+Sevenoaks, eh?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Get enough to eat down-stairs?"
+
+"Plenty."
+
+"Good clothes to wear?"
+
+"Very good," and Phipps looked down upon his toilet with great
+satisfaction.
+
+"Stolen mostly from the General, eh?"
+
+Phipps giggled.
+
+"That's all; you can go. I only wanted to see if you were in the house,
+and well taken care of."
+
+Phipps started to go. "By the way, Phipps, have you a good
+memory?--first-rate memory?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Can you remember everything that happened, a--say, six years ago?"
+
+"I can try," said Phipps, with an intelligent glance into Mr. Belcher's
+eyes.
+
+"Do you remember a day, about six years ago, when Paul Benedict came
+into my house at Sevenoaks, with Nicholas Johnson and James Ramsey, and
+they all signed a paper together?"
+
+"Very well," replied Phipps.
+
+"And do you remember that I said to you, after they were gone, that that
+paper gave me all of Benedict's patent rights?"
+
+Phipps looked up at the ceiling, and then said:
+
+"Yes, sir, and I remember that I said, 'It will make you very rich,
+won't it, Mr. Belcher?'"
+
+"And what did I reply to you?"
+
+"You said, 'That remains to be seen.'"
+
+"All right. Do you suppose you should know that paper if you were to see
+it?"
+
+"I think I should--after I'd seen it once."
+
+"Well, there it is--suppose you take a look at it."
+
+"I remember it by two blots in the corner, and the red lines down the
+side."
+
+"You didn't write your own name, did you?"
+
+"It seems to me I did."
+
+"Suppose you examine the paper, under James Ramsey's name, and see
+whether yours is there."
+
+Mr. Felcher walked to his glass, turning his back upon Phipps. The
+latter sat down, and wrote his name upon the spot thus blindly
+suggested.
+
+"It is here, sir."
+
+"Ah! So you have found it! You distinctly remember writing it on that
+occasion, and can swear to it, and to the signatures of the others?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir."
+
+"And all this was done in my library, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How did you happen to be there when these other men were there?"
+
+"You called me in, sir."
+
+"All right! You never smoke, Phipps?"
+
+"Never in the stable, sir."
+
+"Well, lay these cigars away where you have laid the rest of 'em, and go
+to bed."
+
+Phipps took the costly bundle of cigars that was handed to him, carried
+them by habit to his nose, said "Thank you, sir," and went off down the
+stairs, felicitating himself on the ease with which he had won so choice
+a treasure.
+
+The effect of Phipps' signature on Mr. Belcher's mind was a curious
+illustration of the self-deceptions in which a human heart may indulge.
+Companionship in crime, the sharing of responsibility, the fact that the
+paper was to have been signed at the time it was drawn, and would have
+been signed but for the accident of Benedict's insanity; the fact that
+he had paid moneys with the expectation of securing a title to the
+inventions he was using--all these gave to the paper an air of
+genuineness which surprised even Mr. Belcher himself.
+
+When known evil seems absolutely good to a man, and conscious falsehood
+takes on the semblance and the authority of truth, the Devil has him
+fast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+IN WHICH "THE LITTLE WOMAN" ANNOUNCES HER ENGAGEMENT TO JIM FENTON AND
+RECEIVES THE CONGRATULATIONS OF HER FRIENDS.
+
+
+After the frame of Jim's hotel was up, at Number Nine, and those who had
+assisted in its erection were out of the woods, he and his architect
+entered with great industry upon the task of covering it. Under Mr.
+Benedict's direction, Jim became an expert in the work, and the sound of
+two busy hammers kept the echoes of the forest awake from dawn until
+sunset, every day. The masons came at last and put up the chimneys; and
+more and more, as the days went on, the building assumed the look of a
+dwelling. The grand object was to get their enterprise forwarded to a
+point that would enable them to finish everything during the following
+winter, with such assistance as it might be necessary to import from
+Sevenoaks. The house needed to be made habitable for workmen while their
+work was progressing, and to this end Mr. Benedict and Jim pushed their
+efforts without assistance.
+
+Occasionally, Jim found himself obliged to go to Sevenoaks for supplies,
+and for articles and tools whose necessity had not been anticipated. On
+these occasions, he always called Mike Conlin to his aid, and always
+managed to see "the little woman" of his hopes. She was busy with her
+preparations, carried on in secret; and he always left her with his head
+full of new plans and his heart brimming with new satisfactions. It was
+arranged that they should be married in the following spring, so as to
+be ready for city boarders; and all his efforts were bent upon
+completing the house for occupation.
+
+During the autumn, Jim took from the Sevenoaks Post-Office a letter for
+Paul Benedict, bearing the New York post mark, and addressed in the
+handwriting of a lady. The letter was a great puzzle to Jim, and he
+watched its effect upon his companion with much curiosity. Benedict wept
+over it, and went away where he could weep alone. When he came back, he
+was a transformed man. A new light was in his eye, a new elasticity in
+all his movements.
+
+"I cannot tell you about it, Jim," he said; "at least I cannot tell you
+now; but a great burden has been lifted from my life. I have never
+spoken of this to you, or to anybody; but the first cruel wound that the
+world ever gave me has been healed by a touch."
+
+"It takes a woman to do them things," said Jim. "I knowed when ye gin up
+the little woman, as was free from what happened about an hour arter,
+that ye was firm' low an' savin' yer waddin'. Oh, ye can't fool me, not
+much!"
+
+"What do you think of that, Jim?" said Benedict, smiling, and handing
+him a check for five hundred dollars that the letter had inclosed.
+
+Jim looked it over and read it through with undisguised astonishment.
+
+"Did she gin it to ye?" he inquired.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"An' be ye a goin' to keep it?"
+
+"Yes, I'm going to keep it."
+
+Jim was evidently doubtful touching the delicacy both of tendering and
+receiving such a gift.
+
+"If that thing had come to me from the little woman," said he, "I should
+think she was gittin' oneasy, an' a little dubersome about my comin' to
+time. It don't seem jest the thing for a woman to shell out money to a
+man. My nater goes agin it. I feel it all over me, an' I vow, I b'lieve
+that if the little woman had did that thing to me, I sh'd rub out my
+reckonin' an' start new."
+
+"It's all right, though, Jim," responded Benedict,
+good-naturedly--"right for the woman to give it, and right for me to
+receive it. Don't trouble yourself at all about it."
+
+Benedict's assurance did little to relieve Jim's bewilderment, who still
+thought it a very improper thing to receive money from a woman. He did
+not examine himself far enough to learn that Benedict's independence of
+his own care and provision was partly the cause of his pain. Five
+hundred dollars in the woods was a great deal of money. To Jim's
+apprehension, the man had become a capitalist. Some one beside
+himself--some one richer and more powerful than himself--had taken the
+position of benefactor toward his friend. He was glad to see Benedict
+happy, but sorry that he could not have been the agent in making him so.
+
+"Well, I can't keep ye forever'n' ever, but I was a hopin' ye'd hang by
+till I git hold of the little woman," said Jim.
+
+"Do you suppose I would leave you now, Jim?"
+
+"Well, I knowed a yoke o' cattle couldn't start ye, with a hoss ahead on
+'em; but a woman, Mr. Benedict "--and Jim's voice sunk to a solemn and
+impressive key--"a woman with the right kind of an eye, an' a takin'
+way, is stronger nor a steam Injun. She can snake ye 'round anywhere;
+an' the queerest thing about it is that a feller's willin' to go, an'
+thinks it's purty. She tells ye to come, an' ye come smilin'; and then
+she tells ye to go, an' ye go smilin'; and then she winds ye 'round her
+finger, and ye feel as limber an' as willin' as if ye was a whip-lash,
+an' hadn't nothin' else to do."
+
+"Nevertheless, I shall stay with you, Jim."
+
+"Well, I hope ye will; but don't ye be too sartin; not that I'm goin' to
+stan' atween ye an' good luck, but if ye cal'late that a woman's goin'
+to let ye do jest as ye think ye will--leastways a woman as has five
+hundred dollars in yer pocket--yer eddication hasn't been well took care
+on. If I was sitooated like you, I'd jest walk up to the pastur'-bars
+like a hoss, an' whinner to git in, an' expect to be called with a
+corn-cob when she got ready to use me."
+
+"Still, I shall stay with you, Jim."
+
+"All right; here's hopin', an' here's my hand."
+
+Benedict's letter, besides the check, held still another inclosure--a
+note from Mr. Balfour. This he had slipped into his pocket, and, in the
+absorption of his attention produced by the principal communication,
+forgotten. At the close of his conversation with Jim, he remembered it,
+and took it out and read it. It conveyed the intelligence that the
+lawyer found it impossible to leave the city according to his promise,
+for an autumn vacation in the woods. Still, he would find some means to
+send up Harry if Mr. Benedict should insist upon it. The boy was well,
+and progressing satisfactorily in his studies. He was happy, and found a
+new reason for happiness in his intimacy with Mrs. Dillingham, with whom
+he was spending a good deal of his leisure time. If Mr. Benedict would
+consent to a change of plans, it was his wish to keep the lad through
+the winter, and then, with all his family, to go up to Number Nine in
+the spring, be present at Jim's wedding, and assist in the inauguration
+of the new hotel.
+
+Mr. Benedict was more easily reconciled to this change of plan than he
+would have believed possible an hour previously. The letter, whose
+contents had so mystified and disturbed Jim, had changed the whole
+aspect of his life. He replied to this letter during the day, and wrote
+another to Mr. Balfour, consenting to his wishes, and acquiescing in his
+plans. For the first time in many years, he could see through all his
+trials, into the calm daylight. Harry was safe and happy in a new
+association with a woman who, more than any other, held his life in her
+hands. He was getting a new basis for life in friendship and love.
+Shored up by affection and sympathy, and with a modest competence in his
+hands for all present and immediately prospective needs, his dependent
+nature could once more stand erect.
+
+Henceforward he dropped his idle dreaming and became interested in his
+work, and doubly efficient in its execution. Jim once more had in
+possession the old friend whose cheerfulness and good-nature had
+originally won his affection; and the late autumn and winter which lay
+before them seemed full of hopeful and happy enterprise.
+
+Miss Butterworth, hearing occasionally through Jim of the progress of
+affairs at Number Nine, began to think it about time to make known her
+secret among her friends. Already they had begun to suspect that the
+little tailoress had a secret, out of which would grow a change in her
+life. She had made some astonishing purchases at the village shops,
+which had been faithfully reported. She was working early and late in
+her little room. She was, in the new prosperity of the villagers,
+collecting her trifling dues. She had given notice of the recall of her
+modest loans. There were many indications that she was preparing to
+leave the town.
+
+"Now, really," said Mrs. Snow to her one evening, when Miss Butterworth
+was illuminating the parsonage by her presence--"now, really, you must
+tell us all about it. I'm dying to know."
+
+"Oh, it's too ridiculous for anything," said Miss Butterworth, laughing
+herself almost into hysterics.
+
+"Now, what, Keziah? What's too ridiculous? You _are_ the most provoking
+person!"
+
+"The idea of my getting married!"
+
+Mrs. Snow jumped up and seized Miss Butterworth's hands, and said:
+
+"Why, Keziah Butterworth! You don't tell me! You wicked, deceitful
+creature!"
+
+The three Misses Snow all jumped up with their mother, and pressed
+around the merry object of their earnest congratulations.
+
+"So unexpected and strange, you know," said the oldest.
+
+"So very unexpected!" said the second.
+
+"And so very strange, too!" echoed Number Three.
+
+"Well, it _is_ too ridiculous for anything," Miss Butterworth repeated.
+"The idea of my living to be an old maid, and, what's more, making up my
+mind to it, and then"--and then Miss Butterworth plunged into a new fit
+of merriment.
+
+"Well, Keziah, I hope you'll be very happy. Indeed I do," said Mrs.
+Snow, becoming motherly.
+
+"Happy all your life," said Miss Snow.
+
+"Very happy," said Number Two.
+
+"All your life long," rounded up the complement of good wishes from the
+lips of the youngest of the trio.
+
+"Well, I'm very much obliged to you--to you all "--said Miss
+Butterworth, wiping her eyes; "but it certainly is the most ridiculous
+thing. I say to myself sometimes: 'Keziah Butterworth! You little old
+fool! What _are_ you going to do with that man? How _are_ you going to
+live with him?' Goodness knows that I've racked my brain over it until
+I'm just about crazy. Don't mention it, but I believe I'll use him for a
+watch-dog--tie him up daytimes, and let him out nights, you know!"
+
+"Why, isn't he nice?" inquired Mrs. Snow.
+
+"Nice! He's as rough as a hemlock tree."
+
+"What do you marry him for?" inquired Mrs. Snow in astonishment.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know. I've asked myself the question a thousand
+times."
+
+"Don't you want to marry him?"
+
+"I don't know. I guess I do."
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Snow, soberly, "This is a very solemn thing."
+
+"I don't see it in that light," said Miss Butterworth, indulging in a
+new fit of laughter. "I wish I could, but it's the funniest thing. I
+wake up laughing over it, and I go to sleep laughing over it, and I say
+to myself, 'what are you laughing at, you ridiculous creature?'"
+
+"Well, I believe you are a ridiculous creature," said Mrs. Snow.
+
+"I know I am, and if anybody had told me a year ago that I should ever
+marry Jim Fenton, I--"
+
+"Jim Fenton!" exclaimed the whole Snow family.
+
+"Well, what is there so strange about my marrying Jim Fenton?" and the
+little tailoress straightened in her chair, her eyes flashing, and the
+color mounting to her face.
+
+"Oh, nothing; but you know--it's such a surprise--he's so--he's so--well
+he's a--not cultivated--never has seen much society, you know; and lives
+almost out of the world, as it were."
+
+"Oh, no! He isn't cultivated! He ought to have been brought up in
+Sevenoaks and polished! He ought to have been subjected to the
+civilizing and refining influences of Bob Belcher!"
+
+"Now, you mustn't be offended, Keziah. We are all your friends, and
+anxious for your welfare."
+
+"But you think Jim Fenton is a brute."
+
+"I have said nothing of the kind."
+
+"But you think so."
+
+"I think you ought to know him better than I do."
+
+"Well, I do, and he is just the loveliest, manliest, noblest,
+splendidest old fellow that ever lived. I don't care if he does live out
+of the world. I'd go with him, and live with him, if he used the North
+Pole for a back log. Fah! I hate a slick man. Jim has spoiled me for
+anything but a true man in the rough. There's more pluck in his old
+shoes than you can find in all the men of Sevenoaks put together. And
+he's as tender--Oh, Mrs. Snow! Oh, girls! He's as tender as a baby--just
+as tender as a baby! He has said to me the most wonderful things! I wish
+I could remember them. I never can, and I couldn't say them as he does
+if I could. Since I became acquainted with him, it seems as if the world
+had been made all over new. I'd become kind o' tired of human nature,
+you know. It seemed sometimes as if it was just as well to be a cow as a
+woman; but I've become so much to him, and he has become so much to me,
+that all the men and women around me have grown beautiful. And he loves
+me in a way that is so strong--and so protecting--and so sweet and
+careful--that--now don't you laugh, or you'll make me angry--I'd feel
+safer in his arms than I would in a church."
+
+"Well, I'm sure!" exclaimed Mrs. Snow.
+
+"Isn't it remarkable!" said Miss Snow.
+
+"Quite delightful!" exclaimed the second sister, whose enthusiasm could
+not be crammed into Miss Snow's expression.
+
+"Really charming," added Number Three.
+
+"You are quite sure you don't know what you want to marry him for?" said
+Mrs. Snow, with a roguish twinkle in her eye. "You are quite sure you
+don't love him?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Miss Butterworth. "It's something. I wish you
+could hear him talk. His grammar would kill you. It would just kill you.
+You'd never breathe after it. Such awful nominative cases as that man
+has! And you can't beat him out of them. And such a pronunciation! His
+words are just as rough as he is, and just like him. They seem to have a
+great deal more meaning in them than they do when they have good clothes
+on. You don't know how I enjoy hearing him talk."
+
+"I'm inclined to think you love him," said Mrs. Snow, smiling.
+
+"I don't know. Isn't it the most ridiculous thing, now?"
+
+"No; it isn't ridiculous at all," said Mrs. Snow, soberly.
+
+Miss Butterworth's moon was sailing high that evening. There were but
+few clouds in her heaven, but occasionally a tender vapor passed across
+the silver disk, and one passed at this moment. Her eyes were loaded
+with tears as she looked up in Mrs. Snow's face, and said:
+
+"I was very lonely, you know. Life had become very tame, and I saw
+nothing before me different from my daily experience, which had grown to
+be wearisome. Jim came and opened a new life to me, offered me
+companionship, new circumstances, new surroundings. It was like being
+born again. And, do you know, I don't think it is natural for a woman to
+carry her own life. I got very tired of mine, and when this strong man
+came, and was willing to take it up, and bear it for me as the greatest
+pleasure I could bestow upon him, what could I do--now, what could I do?
+I don't think I'm proud of him, but I belong to him, and I'm glad; and
+that's all there is about it;" and Miss Butterworth sprang to her feet
+as if she were about to leave the house.
+
+"You are not going," said Mrs. Snow, catching her by both shoulders, "so
+sit down."
+
+"I've told you the whole: there's nothing more. I suppose it will be a
+great wonder to the Sevenoaks people, and that they'll think I'm
+throwing myself away, but I do hope they will let me alone."
+
+"When are you to be married?"
+
+"In the spring."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Oh! anywhere. No matter where. I haven't thought about that part of
+it."
+
+"Then you'll be married right here, in this house. You shall have a nice
+little wedding."
+
+"Oh! and orange-blossoms!" exclaimed Miss Snow, clapping her hands.
+
+"And a veil!" added Number Two.
+
+"And a--" Number Three was not so familiar with such occasions as to be
+able to supply another article, so she clapped her hands.
+
+They were all in a delicious flutter. It would be so nice to have a
+wedding in the house! It was a good sign. Did the young ladies think
+that it might break a sort of electric spell that hung over the
+parsonage, and result in a shower which would float them all off?
+Perhaps so. They were, at least, very happy about it.
+
+Then they all sat down again, to talk over the matter of clothes. Miss
+Butterworth did not wish to make herself ridiculous.
+
+"I've said a thousand times, if I ever said it once," she remarked,
+"that there's no fool like an old fool. Now, I don't want to hear any
+nonsense about orange-blossoms, or about a veil. If there's anything
+that I do despise above board, it's a bridal veil on an old maid. And
+I'm not going to have a lot of things made up that I can't use. I'm just
+going to have a snug, serviceable set of clothes, and in three days I'm
+going to look as if I'd been married ten years."
+
+"It seems to me," said Miss Snow, "that you ought to do something. I'm
+sure, if I were in your place, that I should want to do something."
+
+The other girls tittered.
+
+"Not that I ever expect to be in your place, or anything like it," she
+went on, "but it does seem to me as if something extra ought to be
+done--white kid gloves or something."
+
+"And white satin gaiters," suggested the youngest sister.
+
+"I guess you'd think Jim Fenton was extra enough if you knew him," said
+Miss Butterworth, laughing. "There's plenty that's extra, goodness
+knows! without buying anything."
+
+"Well," persisted the youngest Miss Snow, "I'd have open-worked
+stockings, and have my hair frizzed, any way."
+
+"Oh, I speak to do your hair," put in the second daughter.
+
+"You're just a lot of chickens, the whole of you," said the tailoress.
+
+Miss Snow, whose age was hovering about the confines of mature
+maidenhood, smiled a deprecating smile, and said that she thought she
+was about what they sold for chickens sometimes, and intimated that she
+was anything but tender.
+
+"Well, don't be discouraged; that's all I have to say," remarked Miss
+Butterworth. "If I can get married, anybody can. If anybody had told me
+that--well isn't it too ridiculous for anything? Now, isn't it?" And the
+little tailoress went off into another fit of laughter. Then she jumped
+up and said she really must go.
+
+The report that Jim Fenton was soon to lead to the hymeneal altar the
+popular village tailoress, spread with great rapidity, and as it started
+from the minister's family, it had a good send-off, and was accompanied
+by information that very pleasantly modified its effect upon the public
+mind. The men of the village who knew Jim a great deal better than the
+women, and who, in various ways, had become familiar with his plans for
+a hotel, and recognized the fact that his enterprise would make
+Sevenoaks a kind of thoroughfare for his prospective city-boarders,
+decided that she had "done well." Jim was enterprising, and, as they
+termed it, "forehanded." His habits were good, his industry
+indefatigable, his common sense and good nature unexampled. Everybody
+liked Jim. To be sure, he was rough and uneducated, but he was honorable
+and true. He would make a good "provider." Miss Butterworth might have
+gone further and fared worse. On the whole, it was a good thing; and
+they were glad for Jim's sake and for Miss Butterworth's that it had
+happened.
+
+The women took their cue from the men. They thought, however, that Miss
+Butterworth would be very lonesome, and found various pegs on which to
+hang out their pity for a public airing. Still, the little tailoress was
+surprised at the heartiness of their congratulations, and often melted
+to tears by the presents she received from the great number of families
+for whom, every year, she had worked. No engagement had occurred in
+Sevenoaks for a long time that created so much interest, and enlisted so
+many sympathies. They hoped she would be very happy. They would be
+exceedingly sorry to lose her. Nobody could ever take her place. She had
+always been one whom they could have in their families "without making
+any difference," and she never tattled.
+
+So Miss Butterworth found herself quite a heroine, but whenever Jim
+showed himself, the women all looked out of the windows, and made their
+own comments. After all, they couldn't see exactly what Miss Butterworth
+could find to like in him. They saw a tall, strong, rough,
+good-natured-looking man, whom all the men and all the boys greeted with
+genuine heartiness. They saw him pushing about his business with the
+air of one who owned the whole village; but his clothes were rough, and
+his boots over his trowsers. They hoped it would all turn out well.
+There was "no doubt that he needed a woman badly enough."
+
+Not only Miss Butterworth but Jim became the subject of congratulation.
+The first time he entered Sevenoaks after the announcement of his
+engagement, he was hailed from every shop, and button-holed at every
+corner. The good-natured chaffing to which he was subjected he met with
+his old smile.
+
+"Much obleeged to ye for leavin' her for a man as knows a genuine
+creetur when he sees her," he said, to one and another, who rallied him
+upon his matrimonial intentions.
+
+"Isn't she rather old?" inquired one whose manners were not learned of
+Lord Chesterfield.
+
+"I dunno," he replied; "she's hearn it thunder enough not to be skeered,
+an' she's had the measles an' the whoopin' cough, an' the chicken pox,
+an' the mumps, an' got through with her nonsense."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+IN WHICH JIM GETS THE FURNITURE INTO HIS HOUSE, AND MIKE CONLIN GETS
+ANOTHER INSTALLMENT OF ADVICE INTO JIM.
+
+
+Jim had a weary winter. He was obliged to hire and to board a number of
+workmen, whom it was necessary to bring in from Sevenoaks, to effect the
+finishing of his house. His money ran low at last, and Mr. Benedict was
+called upon to write a letter to Mr. Balfour on his behalf, accepting
+that gentleman's offer of pecuniary assistance. This was a humiliating
+trial to Jim, for he had hoped to enter upon his new life free from the
+burden of debt; but Mr. Balfour assured him that he did not regard his
+contribution to the building-fund as a loan--it was only the payment for
+his board in advance.
+
+Jim was astonished to learn the extent of Miss Butterworth's resources.
+She proposed to furnish the house from the savings of her years of
+active industry. She had studied it so thoroughly during its progress,
+though she had never seen it, that she could have found every door and
+gone through every apartment of it in the dark. She had received from
+Mr. Benedict the plan and dimensions of every room. Carpets were made,
+matting was purchased, sets of furniture were procured, crockery, glass,
+linen, mirrors, curtains, kitchen-utensils, everything necessary to
+housekeeping, were bought and placed in store, so that, when the spring
+came, all that remained necessary was to give her order to forward them,
+and write her directions for their bestowal in the house.
+
+The long-looked for time came at last. The freshets of spring had passed
+away; the woods were filling with birds; the shad-blossoms were reaching
+their flat sprays out over the river, and looking at themselves in the
+sunny waters; and the thrush, standing on the deck of the New Year, had
+piped all hands from below, and sent them into the rigging to spread the
+sails.
+
+Jim's heart was glad. His house was finished, and nothing remained but
+to fill it with the means and appliances of life, and with that precious
+life to which they were to be devoted. The enterprise by which it was to
+be supported lay before him, and was a burden upon him; but he believed
+in himself, and was not afraid.
+
+One morning, after he had gone over his house for the thousandth time,
+and mounted to the cupola for a final survey, he started for Sevenoaks
+to make his arrangements for the transportation of the furniture. Two
+new boats had been placed on the river by men who proposed to act as
+guides to the summer visitors, and these he engaged to aid in the water
+transportation of the articles that had been provided by "the little
+woman."
+
+After his arrival in Sevenoaks, he was in consultation with her every
+day; and every day he was more impressed by the method which she had
+pursued in the work of furnishing his little hotel.
+
+"I knowed you was smarter nor lightnin'," he said to her; "but I didn't
+know you was smarter nor a man."
+
+In his journeys, Jim was necessarily thrown into the company of Mike
+Conlin, who was officiously desirous to place at his disposal the wisdom
+which had been acquired by long years of intimate association with the
+feminine element of domestic life, and the duties and practices of
+housekeeping. When the last load of furniture was on its way to Number
+Nine, and Jim had stopped at Mike's house to refresh his weary team,
+Mike saw that his last opportunity for giving advice had come, and he
+determined to avail himself of it.
+
+"Jim," he said, "ye're jist nothing but a babby, an' ye must ax me some
+quistions. I'm an owld housekaper, an' I kin tell ye everything, Jim."
+
+Jim was tired with his work, and tired of Mike. The great event of his
+life stood so closely before him, and he was so much absorbed by it,
+that Mike's talk had a harsher effect upon his sensibilities than the
+grating of a saw-mill.
+
+"Ah! Mike! shut up, shut up!" he said. "Ye mean well, but ye're the
+ignorantest ramus I ever seen. Ye know how to run a shanty an' a
+pig-pen, but what do ye know about keepin' a hotel?"
+
+"Bedad, if that's where ye are, what do ye know about kapin' a hotel
+yersilf? Ye'll see the time, Jim, when ye'll be sorry ye turned the cold
+shoolder to the honest tongue of Mike Conlin."
+
+"Well, Mike, ye understand a pig-pen better nor I do. I gi'en it up,"
+said Jim, with a sigh that showed how painfully Mike was boring him.
+
+"Yes, Jim, an' ye think a pig-pen is benathe ye, forgittin' a pig is the
+purtiest thing in life. Ah, Jim! whin ye git up in the marnin', a falin'
+shtewed, an' niver a bit o' breakfast in ye, an' go out in the djew
+barefut, as ye was borrn, lavin' yer coat kapin' company wid yer ugly
+owld hat, waitin' for yer pork and pertaties, an' see yer pig wid his
+two paws an' his dirty nose rachin' oover the pin, an sayin'
+'good-marnin' to ye,' an' squalin' away wid his big v'ice for his
+porridge, ye'll remimber what I say. An', Jim, whin ye fade 'im, ah!
+whin ye fade 'im! an' he jist lays down continted, wid his belly full,
+an' ye laugh to hear 'im a groontin' an' a shwearin' to 'imself to think
+he can't ate inny more, an' yer owld woman calls ye to breakfast, ye'll
+go in jist happy--jist happy, now. Ah, ye can't tell me! I'm an owld
+housekaper, Jim."
+
+"Ye're an old pig-keeper; that's what you be," said Jim. "Ye're a
+reg'lar Paddy, Mike. Ye're a good fellow, but I'd sooner hearn a loon
+nor a pig."
+
+"Divil a bit o' raison have ye got in ye, Jim. Ye can't ate a loon no
+more nor ye can ate a boot."
+
+Mike was getting impatient with the incorrigible character of Jim's
+prejudices, and Jim saw that he was grieving him.
+
+"Well, I persume I sh'll have to keep pigs, Mike," he said, in a
+compromising tone; "but I shan't dress 'em in calliker, nor larn 'em to
+sing Old Hundred. I sh'll jest let 'em rampage around the woods, an'
+when I want one on 'em, I'll shoot'im."
+
+"Yis, bedad, an' thin ye'll shkin 'im, an' throw the rist of 'im intil
+the river," responded Mike, contemptuously.
+
+"No, Mike; I'll send for ye to cut 'im up an' pack 'im."
+
+"Now ye talk," said Mike; and this little overture of friendly
+confidence became a door through which he could enter a subject more
+profoundly interesting to him than that which related to his favorite
+quadruped.
+
+"What kind of an owld woman have ye got, Jim? Jist open yer heart like a
+box o' tobacky, Jim, an' lit me hilp ye. There's no man as knows more
+about a woman nor Mike Conlin. Ah, Jim! ye ought to 'ave seed me wid the
+girrls in the owld counthry! They jist rin afther me as if I'd been
+stalin' their little hearrts. There was a twilve-month whin they tore
+the very coat tails aff me back. Be gorry I could 'ave married me whole
+neighborhood, an' I jist had to marry the firrst one I could lay me
+honest hands on, an' take mesilf away wid her to Ameriky."
+
+This was too much for Jim. His face broadened into his old smile.
+
+"Mike," said he, "ye haven't got an old towel or a hoss blanket about
+ye, have ye? I feel as if I was a goin' to cry."
+
+"An' what the divil be ye goin' to cry for?"
+
+"Well, Mike, this is a world o' sorrer, an' when a feller comes to think
+of a lot o' women as is so hard pushed that they hanker arter Mike
+Conlin, it fetches me. It's worse nor bein' without victuals, an' beats
+the cholery out o' sight."
+
+"Oh, ye blaggard! Can't ye talk sinse whin yer betthers is thryin' to
+hilp ye? What kind of an owld woman have ye got, now?"
+
+"Mike," said Jim, solemnly, "ye don't know what ye're talkin' about. If
+ye did, ye wouldn't call her an old woman. She's a lady, Mike. She isn't
+one o' your kind, an' I ain't one o' your kind, Mike. Can't ye see
+there's the difference of a pig atween us? Don't ye know that if I was
+to go hazin' round in the mornin' without no clo'es to speak on, an'
+takin' comfort in a howlin' pig, that I shouldn't be up to keepin' a
+hotel? Don't be unreasomble; and, Mike, don't ye never speak to me about
+my old woman. That's a sort o' thing that won't set on her."
+
+Mike shook his head in lofty pity.
+
+"Ah, Jim, I can see what ye're comin' to."
+
+Then, as if afraid that his "owld woman" might overhear his confession,
+he bent toward Jim, and half whispered:
+
+"The women is all smarter nor the men, Jim; but ye mustn't let 'em know
+that ye think it. Ye've got to call 'em yer owld women, or ye can't keep
+'em where ye want 'em. Be gorry! I wouldn't let me owld woman know what
+I think of 'er fur fifty dollars. I couldn't kape me house over me head
+inny time at all at all, if I should whishper it. She's jist as much of
+a leddy as there is in Sivenoaks, bedad, an' I have to put on me big
+airs, an' thrash around wid me two hands in me breeches pockets, an'
+shtick out me lips like a lorrd, an' promise to raise the divil wid her
+whiniver she gits a fit o' high flyin', an' ye'll have to do the same,
+Jim, or jist lay down an' let 'er shtep on ye. Git a good shtart, Jim.
+Don't ye gin 'er the bit for five minutes. She'll rin away wid ye. Ye
+can't till me anything about women."
+
+"No, nor I don't want to. Now you jest shut up, Mike. I'm tired a
+hearin' ye. This thing about women is one as has half the fun of it in
+larnin' it as ye go along. Ye mean well enough, Mike, but yer eddication
+is poor; an' if it's all the same to ye, I'll take my pudden straight
+an' leave yer sarse for them as likes it."
+
+Jim's utter rejection of the further good offices of Mike, in the
+endeavor to instruct him in the management of his future relations with
+the little woman, did not sink very deep into the Irishman's
+sensibilities. Indeed, it could not have done so, for their waters were
+shallow, and, as at this moment Mike's "owld woman" called both to
+dinner, the difference was forgotten in the sympathy of hunger and the
+satisfactions of the table.
+
+Jim felt that he was undergoing a change--had undergone one, in fact. It
+had never revealed itself to him so fully as it did during his
+conversation with Mike. The building of the hotel, the study of the
+wants of another grade of civilization than that to which he had been
+accustomed, the frequent conversations with Miss Butterworth, the
+responsibilities he had assumed, all had tended to lift him; and he felt
+that Mike Conlin was no longer a tolerable companion. The shallowness of
+the Irishman's mind and life disgusted him, and he knew that the time
+would soon come when, by a process as natural as the falling of the
+leaves in autumn, he should drop a whole class of associations, and
+stand where he could look down upon them--where they would look up to
+him. The position of principal, the command of men, the conduct of, and
+the personal responsibility for, a great enterprise, had given him
+conscious growth. His old life and his old associations were
+insufficient to contain him.
+
+After dinner they started on, for the first time accompanied by Mike's
+wife. Before her marriage she had lived the life common to her
+class--that of cook and housemaid in the families of gentlemen. She knew
+the duties connected with the opening of a house, and could bring its
+machinery into working order. She could do a thousand things that a man
+either could not do, or would not think of doing; and Jim had arranged
+that she should be housekeeper until the mistress of the establishment
+should be installed in her office.
+
+The sun had set before they arrived at the river, and the boats of the
+two guides, with Jim's, which had been brought down by Mr. Benedict,
+were speedily loaded with the furniture, and Mike, picketing his horses
+for the night, embarked with the rest, and all slept at Number Nine.
+
+In three days Jim was to be married, and his cage was ready for his
+bird. The stoop with its "settle," the ladder for posies, at the foot
+of which the morning-glories were already planted, and the "cupalo," had
+ceased to be dreams, and become realities. Still, it all seemed a dream
+to Jim. He waked in the morning in his own room, and wondered whether he
+were not dreaming. He went out upon his piazza, and saw the cabin in
+which he had spent so many nights in his old simple life, then went off
+and looked up at his house or ranged through the rooms, and experienced
+the emotion of regret so common to those in similar circumstances, that
+he could never again be what he had been, or be contented with what he
+had been--that he had crossed a point in his life which his retiring
+feet could never repass. It was the natural reaction of the long strain
+of expectation which he had experienced, and would pass away; but while
+it was upon him he mourned over the death of his old self, and the
+hopeless obliteration of his old circumstances.
+
+Mr. Balfour had been written to, and would keep his promise to be
+present at the wedding, with Mrs. Balfour and the boys. Sam Yates, at
+Jim's request, had agreed to see to the preparation of an appropriate
+outfit for the bridegroom. Such invitations had been given out as Miss
+Butterworth dictated, and the Snow family was in a flutter of
+expectation. Presents of a humble and useful kind had been pouring in
+upon Miss Butterworth for days, until, indeed, she was quite
+overwhelmed. It seemed as if the whole village were in a conspiracy of
+beneficence.
+
+In a final conference with Mrs. Snow, Miss Butterworth said:
+
+"I don't know at all how he is going to behave, and I'm not going to
+trouble myself about it; he shall do just as he pleases. He has made his
+way with me, and if he is good enough for me, he is good enough for
+other people. I'm not going to badger him into nice manners, and I'm
+going to be just as much amused with him as anybody is. He isn't like
+other people, and if he tries to act like other people, it will just
+spoil him. If there's anything that I do despise above board, it's a
+woman trying to train a man who loves her. If I were the man, I should
+hate her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+IN WHICH JIM GETS MARRIED, THE NEW HOTEL RECEIVES ITS MISTRESS, AND
+BENEDICT CONFERS A POWER OF ATTORNEY.
+
+
+There was great commotion in the little Sevenoaks tavern. It was Jim's
+wedding morning, and on the previous evening there had been a sufficient
+number of arrivals to fill every room. Mr. and Mrs. Balfour, with the
+two boys, had come in in the evening stage; Jim and Mr. Benedict had
+arrived from Number Nine. Friends of Miss Butterworth from adjoining
+towns had come, so as to be ready for the ceremony of the morning.
+Villagers had thronged the noisy bar-room until midnight, scanning and
+discussing the strangers, and speculating upon the event which had
+called them together. Jim had moved among them, smiling, and returning
+their good-natured badinage with imperturbable coolness, so far as
+appearances went, though he acknowledged to Mr. Balfour that he felt
+very much as he did about his first moose.
+
+"I took a good aim," said he, "restin' acrost a stump, but the stump was
+oneasy like; an' then I blazed away, an' when I obsarved the moose
+sprawlin', I was twenty feet up a tree, with my gun in the snow; an' if
+they don't find me settin' on the parson's chimbly about nine o'clock
+to-morrer mornin', it won't be on account o' my not bein' skeered."
+
+But the wedding morning had arrived. Jim had had an uneasy night, with
+imperfect sleep and preposterous dreams. He had been pursuing game.
+Sometimes it was a bear that attracted his chase, sometimes it was a
+deer, sometimes it was a moose, but all the time it was Miss
+Butterworth, flying and looking back, with robes and ribbons vanishing
+among the distant trees, until he shot and killed her, and then he woke
+in a great convulsion of despair, to hear the singing of the early
+birds, and to the realization of the fact that his days of bachelor life
+were counted.
+
+Mr. Benedict, with his restored boy in his arms, occupied the room next
+to his, a door opening between them. Both were awake, and were busy with
+their whispered confidences, when they became aware that Jim was roused
+and on his feet. In a huge bundle on the table lay Jim's wedding
+garments, which he eyed from time to time as he busied himself at his
+bath.
+
+"Won't ye be a purty bird with them feathers on! This makin' crows into
+bobolinks'll do for oncet, but, my! won't them things spin when I git
+into the woods agin?"
+
+Benedict and Harry knew Jim's habit, and the measure of excitement that
+was upon him, and lay still, expecting to be amused by his soliloquies.
+Soon they heard him say:
+
+"Oh, lay down, lay down, lay _down_, ye misable old mop!"
+
+It was an expression of impatience and disgust.
+
+"What's the matter, Jim?" Mr. Benedict called.
+
+"Here's my har," responded Jim, "actin' as if it was a piece o' woods or
+a hay-lot, an' there ain't no lodgin' it with nothin' short of a
+harricane. I've a good mind to git it shingled and san'-papered."
+
+Then, shifting his address to the object of his care and anxiety, he
+went on:
+
+"Oh, stick up, stick up, if you want to! Don't lay down on my 'count.
+P'rhaps ye want to see what's goin' on. P'rhaps ye're goin' to stand up
+with me. P'rhaps ye want to skeer somebody's hosses. If I didn't look no
+better nor you, I sh'd want to lay low; an', if I'd 'a slep as poor as
+ye did last night, I'd lop down in the fust bed o' bear's grease I could
+find. _Hain't_ ye got no manners?"
+
+This was too much for Harry, who, in his happy mood burst into the
+merriest laughter.
+
+This furnished Jim with just the apology he wanted for a frolic, and
+rushing into the adjoining bedroom, he pulled Harry from his bed, seated
+him on the top of his head, and marched with him struggling and laughing
+about the room. After he had performed sundry acrobatic feats with him,
+he carried him back to his bed. Then he returned to his room, and
+entered seriously upon the task of arraying himself in his wedding
+attire. To get on his collar and neck-tie properly, he was obliged to
+call for Mr. Benedict's assistance.
+
+Jim was already getting red in the face.
+
+"What on arth folks want to tie theirselves up in this way for in hot
+weather, is more nor I know," he said. "How do ye s'pose them Mormons
+live, as is doin' this thing every three days?"
+
+Jim asked this question with his nose in the air, patiently waiting the
+result of Mr. Benedict's manipulations at his throat. When he could
+speak again, he added:
+
+"I vow, if I was doin' a big business in this line, I'd git some tin
+things, an' have 'em soddered on, an' sleep in 'em."
+
+This sent Harry into another giggle, and, with many soliloquies and much
+merriment, the dressing in both rooms went on, until, in Jim's room, all
+became still. When Benedict and his boy had completed their toilet, they
+looked in upon Jim, and found him dressed and seated on his trunk.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Fenton," said Benedict, cheerfully.
+
+Jim, who had been in deep thought, looked up, and said:
+
+"Do ye know that that don't seem so queer to me as it used to? It seems
+all right fur pertickler friends to call me Jim, but clo'es is what puts
+the Mister into a man. I felt it comin' when I looked into the glass.
+Says I to myself: 'Jim, that's Mr. Fenton as is now afore ye. Look at
+'im sharp, so that, if so be ye ever seen 'im agin' ye'll know 'im.' I
+never knowed exactly where the Mister come from afore. Ye have to be
+measured for't. A pair o' shears, an' a needle an' thread, an' a hot
+goose is what changes a man into a Mister. It's a nice thing to find
+out, but it's uncomf'table. It ain't so bad as it would be if ye
+couldn't strip it off when ye git tired on't, an' it's a good thing to
+know."
+
+"Do clothes make Belcher a gentleman?" inquired Mr. Benedict.
+
+"Well, it's what makes him a Mister, any way. When ye git his clo'es off
+thar ain't nothin' left of 'im. Dress 'im up in my old clo'es, as has
+got tar enough on 'em to paint a boat, an' there wouldn't be enough man
+in 'im to speak to."
+
+How long Jim would have indulged in his philosophy of the power of dress
+had he not been disturbed will never be known, for at this moment Mr.
+Balfour knocked at his door, and was admitted. Sam Yates followed, and
+both looked Jim over and pronounced him perfect. Even these familiar
+friends felt the power of dress, and treated Jim in a way to which he
+had been unaccustomed. The stalwart figure, developed in every muscle,
+and becomingly draped, was well calculated to excite their admiration.
+The refractory hair which had given its possessor so much trouble,
+simply made his head impressive and picturesque. There was a man before
+them--humane, brave, bright, original. All he wanted was culture.
+Physical and mental endowments were in excess, and the two men, trained
+in the schools, had learned to love--almost to revere him. Until he
+spoke, they did not feel at home with him in his new disguise.
+
+They all descended to breakfast together. Jim was quiet under the
+feeling that his clothes were an unnatural expression of himself, and
+that his words would make them a mockery. He was awed, too, by the
+presence of Mrs. Balfour, who met him at the table for the first time in
+her life. The sharp-eyed, smiling Yankee girls who waited at the meal,
+were very much devoted to Jim, who was ashamed to receive so much
+attention. On the whole, it was the most uncomfortable breakfast he had
+ever eaten, but his eyes were quick to see all that was done, for he was
+about to open a hotel, and wished particularly to learn the details of
+the table service.
+
+There was great excitement, too, at the parsonage that morning. The
+Misses Snow were stirred by the romance of the occasion. They had little
+enough of this element in their lives, and were disposed to make the
+most of it when it came. The eldest had been invited to accompany the
+bride to Number Nine, and spend a few weeks with her there. As this was
+accounted a great privilege by the two younger sisters, they quietly
+shelved her, and told her that they were to have their own way at home;
+so Miss Snow became ornamental and critical. Miss Butterworth had spent
+the night with her, and they had talked like a pair of school-girls
+until the small hours of the morning. The two younger girls had slept
+together, and discussed at length the duties of their respective
+offices. One was to do the bride's hair and act as the general
+supervisor of her dress, the other was to arrange the flowers and take
+care of the guests. Miss Butterworth's hair was not beautiful, and how
+it was to be made the most of was the great question that agitated the
+hair-dresser. All the possibilities of braid and plait and curl were
+canvassed. If she only had a switch, a great triumph could be achieved,
+but she had none, and, what was worse, would have none. A neighbor had
+sent in a potted white rose, full of buds and bloom, and over this the
+sisters quarreled. The hair would not be complete without the roses, and
+the table would look "shameful" if the pot did not stand upon it,
+unshorn of a charm. The hair-dresser proposed that the stems which she
+was bent on despoiling should have some artificial roses tied to them,
+but the disgraceful project was rejected with scorn. They wrangled over
+the dear little rose-bush and its burden until they went to sleep--the
+one to dream that Miss Butterworth had risen in the morning with a new
+head of hair that reached to her knee, in whose luxuriance she could
+revel with interminable delight, and the other that the house was filled
+with roses; that they sprouted out of the walls, fluttered with beads of
+dew against the windows, strewed the floor, and filled the air with
+odor.
+
+Miss Butterworth was not to step out of the room--not be seen by any
+mortal eye--until she should come forth as a bride. Miss Snow was
+summarily expelled from the apartment, and only permitted to bring in
+Miss Butterworth's breakfast, while her self-appointed lady's maid did
+her hair, and draped her in her new gray silk.
+
+"Make just as big a fool of me, my dear, as you choose," said the
+prospective bride to the fussy little girl who fluttered about her.
+"It's only for a day, and I don't care."
+
+Such patient manipulation, such sudden retirings for the study of
+effects, such delicious little experiments with a curl, such shifting of
+hair-pins, such dainty adjustments of ruffles and frills as were
+indulged in in that little room can only be imagined by the sex familiar
+with them. And then, in the midst of it all, came a scream of delight
+that stopped everything. Mrs. Balfour had sent in a great box full of
+the most exquisite flowers, which she had brought all the way from the
+city. The youngest Miss Snow was wild with her new wealth, and there
+were roses for Miss Butterworth's hair, and her throat, and a bouquet
+for her hand. And after this came wonderful accessions to the
+refreshment table. Cake, with Miss Butterworth's initials; tarts, marked
+"Number Nine," and Charlotte de Russe, with a "B" and an "F" hopelessly
+twisted together in a monogram. The most excited exclamations reached
+Miss Butterworth's ears in her imprisonment:
+
+"Goodness, gracious me!"
+
+"If there isn't another cake as big as a flour barrel!"
+
+"Tell your mother she's an angel. She's coming down to help us eat it, I
+hope."
+
+"Just look at this basket of little cakes! I was saying to mother this
+minute that that was all we wanted."
+
+So the good things came, and the cheerful givers went, and Miss
+Butterworth took an occasional sip at her coffee, with a huge napkin at
+her throat, and tears in her eyes, not drawn forth by the delicate
+tortures in progress upon her person. She thought of her weary years of
+service, her watchings by sick-beds, her ministry to the poor, her long
+loneliness, and acknowledged to herself that her reward had come. To be
+so loved and petted, and cared for, and waited upon, was payment for
+every sacrifice and every service, and she felt that she and the world
+were at quits.
+
+Before the finishing touches to her toilet were given, there was a
+tumult at the door. She could hear new voices. The guests were arriving.
+She heard laughter and merry greetings; and still they poured in, as if
+they had come in a procession. Then there was a hush, followed by the
+sound of a carriage, the letting down of steps, and a universal murmur.
+Jim had arrived, with Mr. and Mrs. Balfour and the boys. They had had
+great difficulty in getting him into the one hackney coach which the
+village possessed, on account of his wish to ride with the driver, "a
+feller as he knowed;" but he was overruled by Mrs. Balfour, who, on
+alighting, took his arm. He came up the garden walk, smiling in the
+faces and eyes of those gathered around the door and clustered at the
+windows. In his wedding dress, he was the best figure in the crowd, and
+many were the exclamations of feminine admiration.
+
+On entering the door, he looked about him, saw the well-dressed and
+expectant company, the dainty baskets of flowers, the bountifully loaded
+table in the little dining-room, all the preparations for his day of
+happiness, but he saw nowhere the person who gave to him the
+significance of the occasion.
+
+Mr. Snow greeted him cordially, and introduced him to those who stood
+near.
+
+"Well, parson, where's the little woman?" he said, at last, in a voice
+so loud that all heard the startling question. Miss Butterworth heard
+him, and laughed.
+
+"Just hear him!" she exclaimed to the busy girl, whose work was now
+hurrying to a close. "If he doesn't astonish them before he gets
+through, I shall be mistaken. I do think it's the most ridiculous thing.
+Now isn't it! The idea!"
+
+Miss Snow, in the general character of outside manager and future
+companion of the bride, hurried to Jim's side at once, and said:
+
+"Oh, Mr. Fenton!"
+
+"Jest call me Jim."
+
+"No, no, I won't. Now, Mr. Fenton, really! you can't see her until she
+is ready!"
+
+"Oh can't I!" and Jim smiled.
+
+Miss Snow had the impression, prevalent among women, that a bridegroom
+has no rights so long as they can keep him out of them, and that it is
+their privilege to fight him up to the last moment.
+
+"Now, really, Mr. Fenton, you _must_ be patient," she said, in a
+whisper. "She is quite delicate this morning, and she's going to look so
+pretty that you'll hardly know her."
+
+"Well," said Jim, "if you've got a ticket into the place whar she's
+stoppin', tell her that kingdom-come is here an' waitin'."
+
+A ripple of laughter went around the circle, and Jim, finding the room
+getting a little close, beckoned Mr. Snow out of the doors. Taking him
+aside and removing his hat, he said:
+
+"Parson, do you see my har?"
+
+"I do," responded the minister, good-naturedly.
+
+"That riz last night," said Jim, solemnly.
+
+"Is it possible?" and Mr. Snow looked at the intractable pile with
+genuine concern.
+
+"Yes, riz in a dream. I thought I'd shot 'er. I was follerin' 'er all
+night. Sometimes she was one thing, an' sometimes she was another, but I
+drew a bead on 'er, an' down she went, an' up come my har quicker nor
+lightnin'. I don't s'pose it looks very purty, but I can't help it."
+
+"Have you tried anything on it?" inquired Mr. Snow with a puzzled look.
+
+"Yis, everything but a hot flat iron, an' I'm a little afraid o' that.
+If wust comes to wust, it'll have to be did, though. It may warm up my
+old brains a little, but if my har is well sprinkled, and the thing is
+handled lively, it'll pay for tryin'."
+
+The perfect candor and coolness of Jim's manner were too much for the
+unsuspicious spirit of the minister, who thought it all very strange. He
+had heard of such things, but this was the first instance he had ever
+seen.
+
+"Parson," said Jim, changing the topic, "what's the damage for the sort
+o' thing ye're drivin' at this mornin'?"
+
+"The what?"
+
+"The damage--what's the--well--damage? What do ye consider a fa'r
+price?"
+
+"Do you mean the marriage fee?"
+
+"Yes, I guess that's what ye call it."
+
+"The law allows us two dollars, but you will permit me to perform the
+ceremony for nothing. It's a labor of love, Mr. Fenton. We are all very
+much interested in Miss Butterworth, as you see."
+
+"Well, I'm a little interested in 'er myself, an' I'm a goin' to pay for
+the splice. Jest tuck that X into yer jacket, an' tell yer neighbors as
+ye've seen a man as was five times better nor the law."
+
+"You are very generous."
+
+"No; I know what business is, though. Ye have to get somethin' to square
+the buryins an' baptizins with. When a man has a weddin', he'd better
+pay the whole thing in a jump. Parsons have to live, but how the devil
+they do it in Sevenoaks is more nor I know."
+
+"Mr. Fenton! excuse me!" said Mr. Snow, coloring, "but I am not
+accustomed to hearing language of that kind."
+
+"No, I s'pose not," said Jim, who saw too late that he had made a
+mistake. "Your sort o' folks knuckle to the devil more nor I do. A good
+bein' I take to, but a bad bein' I'm careless with; an' I don't make no
+more o' slingin' his name round nor I do kickin' an old boot."
+
+Mr. Snow was obliged to laugh, and half a dozen others, who had gathered
+about them, joined in a merry chorus.
+
+Then Miss Snow came out and whispered to her father, and gave a roguish
+glance at Jim. At this time the house was full, the little yard was
+full, and there was a crowd of boys at the gate. Mr. Snow took Jim by
+the arm and led him in. They pressed through the crowd at the door, Miss
+Snow making way for them, and so, in a sort of triumphal progress, they
+went through the room, and disappeared in the apartment where "the
+little woman," flushed and expectant, waited their arrival.
+
+It would be hard to tell which was the more surprised as they were
+confronted by the meeting. Dress had wrought its miracle upon both of
+them, and they hardly knew each other.
+
+"Well, little woman, how fare ye?" said Jim, and he advanced, and took
+her cheeks tenderly between his rough hands, and kissed her.
+
+"Oh, don't! Mr. Fenton! You'll muss her hair!" exclaimed the nervous
+little lady's maid of the morning, dancing about the object of her
+delightful toils and anxieties, and readjusting a rose, and pulling out
+the fold of a ruffle.
+
+"A purty job ye've made on't! The little woman'll never look so nice
+again," said Jim.
+
+"Perhaps I shall--when I'm married again," said Miss Butterworth,
+looking up into Jim's eyes, and laughing.
+
+"Now, ain't that sassy!" exclaimed Jim, in a burst of admiration.
+"That's what took me the first time I seen 'er."
+
+Then Miss Snow Number Two came in, and said it really was time for the
+ceremony to begin. Such a job as she had had in seating people!
+
+Oh, the mysteries of that little room! How the people outside wondered
+what was going on there! How the girls inside rejoiced in their official
+privileges!
+
+Miss Snow took Jim by the button-hole:
+
+"Mr. Fenton, you must take Miss Butterworth on your arm, you know, and
+lead her in front of the sofa, and turn around, and face father, and
+then do just what he tells you, and remember that there's nothing for
+you to say."
+
+The truth was, that they were all afraid that Jim would not be able to
+hold his tongue.
+
+"Are we all ready?" inquired Mr. Snow, in a pleasant, official tone.
+
+All were ready, and then Mr. Snow, going out with a book in his hand,
+was followed by Jim and his bride, the little procession being completed
+by the three Misses Snow, who, with a great deal of care upon their
+faces, slipped out of the door, one after another, like three white
+doves from a window. Mr. Snow took his position, the pair wheeled and
+faced him, and the three Misses Snow supported Miss Butterworth as
+impromptu bridesmaids. It was an impressive tableau, and when the good
+pastor said: "Let us pray," and raised his thin, white hands, a painter
+in search of a subject could have asked for nothing better.
+
+When, at the close of his prayer, the pastor inquired if there were any
+known obstacles to the union of the pair before him in the bonds of holy
+matrimony, and bade all objectors to speak then, or forever after hold
+their peace, Jim looked around with a defiant air, as if he would like
+to see the man who dared to respond to the call. No one did respond, and
+the ceremony proceeded.
+
+"James," said Mr. Snow.
+
+"Jest call me--"
+
+Miss Butterworth pinched Jim's arm, and he recalled Miss Snow's
+injunction in time to arrest his sentence in midpassage.
+
+"James," the pastor repeated, and then went on to ask him, in accordance
+with the simple form of his sect, whether he took the woman whom he was
+holding by the hand to be his lawful and wedded wife, to be loved and
+cherished in sickness and health, in prosperity and adversity, cleaving
+to her, and to her only.
+
+"Parson," said Jim, "that's jest what I'm here for."
+
+There would have been a titter if any other man had said it, but it was
+so strong and earnest, and so much in character, that hardly a smile
+crossed a face that fronted him.
+
+Then "Keziah" was questioned in the usual form, and bowed her response,
+and Jim and the little woman were declared to be one. "What God hath
+joined together, let not man put asunder."
+
+And then Mr. Snow raised his white hands again, and pronounced a formal
+benediction. There was a moment of awkwardness, but soon the pastor
+advanced with his congratulations, and Mrs. Snow came up, and the three
+Misses Snow, and the Balfours, and the neighbors; and there were kisses
+and hand-shakings, and good wishes. Jim beamed around upon the
+fluttering and chattering groups like a great, good-natured mastiff upon
+a playful collection of silken spaniels and smart terriers. It was the
+proudest moment of his life. Even when standing on the cupola of his
+hotel, surveying his achievements, and counting his possessions, he had
+never felt the thrill which moved him then. The little woman was his,
+and his forever. His manhood had received the highest public
+recognition, and he was as happy as if it had been the imposition of a
+crown.
+
+"Ye made purty solemn business on't, Parson," said Jim.
+
+"It's a very important step, Mr. Fenton," responded the clergyman.
+
+"Step!" exclaimed Jim. "That's no name for't; it's a whole trip. But I
+sh'll do it. When I said it I meaned it. I sh'll take care o' the little
+woman, and atween you an' I, Parson, it's about the best thing as a man
+can do. Takin' care of a woman is the nateral thing for a man, an' no
+man ain't much as doesn't do it, and glad o' the job."
+
+The capacity of a country assembly for cakes, pies, and lemonade, is
+something quite unique, especially at a morning festival. If the table
+groaned at the beginning, it sighed at the close. The abundance that
+asserted itself in piles of dainties was left a wreck. It faded away
+like a bank of snow before a drift of southern vapor. Jim, foraging
+among the solids, found a mince pie, to which he devoted himself.
+
+"This is the sort o' thing as will stan' by a man in trouble," said he,
+with a huge piece in his hand.
+
+Then, with a basket of cake, he vanished from the house, and
+distributed his burden among the boys at the gate.
+
+"Boys, I know ye're hungry, 'cause ye've left yer breakfast on yer
+faces. Now git this in afore it rains."
+
+The boys did not stand on the order of the service, but helped
+themselves greedily, and left his basket empty in a twinkling.
+
+"It beats all nater," said Jim, looking at them sympathetically, "how
+much boys can put down when they try. If the facks could be knowed,
+without cuttin' into 'em, I'd be willin' to bet somethin' that their
+legs is holler."
+
+While Jim was absent, the bride's health was drunk in a glass of
+lemonade, and when he returned, his own health was proposed, and Jim
+seemed to feel that something was expected of him.
+
+"My good frens," said he, "I'm much obleeged to ye. Ye couldn't 'a'
+treated me better if I'd 'a' been the president of this country. I ain't
+used to yer ways, but I know when I'm treated well, an' when the little
+woman is treated well. I'm obleeged to ye on her 'count. I'm a goin' to
+take 'er into the woods, an' take care on 'er. We are goin' to keep a
+hotel--me and the little woman--an' if so be as any of ye is took sick
+by overloadin' with cookies 'arly in the day, or bein' thinned out with
+lemonade, ye can come into the woods, an' I'll send ye back happy."
+
+There was a clapping of hands and a flutter of handkerchiefs, and a
+merry chorus of laughter, and then two vehicles drove up to the door.
+The bride bade a tearful farewell to her multitude of friends, and
+poured out her thanks to the minister's family, and in twenty minutes
+thereafter, two happy loads of passengers went pounding over the bridge,
+and off up the hill on the way to Number Nine. The horses were strong,
+the morning was perfect, and Jim was in possession of his bride. They,
+with Miss Snow, occupied one carriage, while Mr. Benedict and the
+Balfours filled the other. Not a member of the company started homeward
+until the bridal party was seen climbing the hill in the distance, but
+waited, commenting upon the great event of the morning, and speculating
+upon the future of the pair whose marriage they had witnessed. There was
+not a woman in the crowd who did not believe in Jim; and all were glad
+that the little tailoress had reached so pleasant and stimulating a
+change in her life.
+
+When the voyagers had passed beyond the scattered farm-houses into the
+lonely country, Jim, with his wife's help, released himself from the
+collar and cravat that tormented him, and once more breathed freely. On
+they sped, shouting to one another from carriage to carriage, and Mike
+Conlin's humble house was reached in a two hours' drive. There was
+chaffing at the door and romping among the trees while the horses were
+refreshed, and then they pushed on again with such speed as was possible
+with poorer roads and soberer horses; and two hours before sunset they
+were at the river. The little woman had enjoyed the drive. When she
+found that she had cut loose from her old life, and was entering upon
+one unknown and untried, in pleasant companionship, she was thoroughly
+happy. It was all like a fairy story; and there before her rolled the
+beautiful river, and, waiting on the shore, were the trunks and remnants
+of baggage that had been started for their destination before daylight,
+and the guides with their boats, and with wild flowers in their
+hat-bands.
+
+The carriages were dismissed to find their way back to Mike Conlin's
+that night, while Jim, throwing off his coat, assisted in loading the
+three boats. Mr. Balfour had brought along with him, not only a large
+flag for the hotel, but half a dozen smaller ones for the little fleet.
+The flags were soon mounted upon little rods, and set up at either end
+of each boat, and when the luggage was all loaded, and the passengers
+were all in their places--Jim taking his wife and Miss Snow in his own
+familiar craft--they pushed out into the stream, and started for a race.
+Jim was the most powerful man of the three, and was aching for work. It
+was a race all the way, but the broader chest and harder muscles won. It
+was a regatta without spectators, but as full of excitement as if the
+shores had been fringed with a cheering crowd.
+
+The two women chatted together in the stern of Jim's boat, or sat in
+silence, as if they were enchanted, watching the changing shores, while
+the great shadows of the woods deepened upon them. They had never seen
+anything like it. It was a new world--God's world, which man had not
+marred.
+
+At last they heard the barking of a dog, and, looking far up among the
+woods, they caught the vision of a new building. The boys in the boats
+behind yelled with delight. Ample in its dimensions and fair in its
+outlines, there stood the little woman's home. Her eyes filled with
+tears, and she hid them on Miss Snow's shoulder.
+
+"Be ye disap'inted, little woman?" inquired Jim, tenderly.
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Feelin's a little too many fur ye?"
+
+The little woman nodded, while Miss Snow put her arm around her neck and
+whispered.
+
+"A woman is a curi's bein'," said Jim. "She cries when she's tickled,
+an' she laughs when she's mad."
+
+"I'm not mad," said the little woman, bursting into a laugh, and lifting
+her tear-burdened eyes to Jim.
+
+"An' then," said Jim, "she cries and laughs all to oncet, an'a feller
+don't know whether to take off his jacket or put up his umberell."
+
+This quite restored the "little woman," and her eyes were dry and merry
+as the boat touched the bank, and the two women were helped on shore.
+Before the other boats came up, they were in the house, with the
+delighted Turk at their heels, and Mike Conlin's wife courtseying before
+them.
+
+It was a merry night at Number Nine. Jim's wife became the mistress at
+once. She knew where everything was to be found, as well as if she had
+been there for a year, and played the hostess to Mr. and Mrs. Balfour as
+agreeably as if her life had been devoted to the duties of her
+establishment.
+
+Mr. Balfour could not make a long stay in the woods, but had determined
+to leave his wife there with the boys. His business was pressing at
+home, and he had heard something while at Sevenoaks that made him uneasy
+on Mr. Benedict's account. The latter had kept himself very quiet while
+at the wedding, but his intimacy with one of Mr. Balfour's boys had been
+observed, and there were those who detected the likeness of this boy,
+though much changed by growth and better conditions, to the little Harry
+Benedict of other days. Mr. Balfour had overheard the speculations of
+the villagers on the strange Mr. Williams who had for so long a time
+been housed with Jim Fenton, and the utterance of suspicions that he was
+no other than their old friend, Paul Benedict. He knew that this
+suspicion would be reported by Mr. Belcher's agent at once, and that Mr.
+Belcher would take desperate steps to secure himself in his possessions.
+What form these measures would take--whether of fraud or personal
+violence--he could not tell.
+
+He advised Mr. Benedict to give him a power of attorney to prosecute Mr.
+Belcher for the sum due him on the use of his inventions, and to procure
+an injunction on his further use of them, unless he should enter into an
+agreement to pay such a royalty as should be deemed equitable by all the
+parties concerned. Mr. Benedict accepted the advice, and the papers were
+executed at once.
+
+Armed with this document, Mr. Balfour bade good-bye to Number Nine and
+its pleasant company, and hastened back to the city, where he took the
+first opportunity to report to his friends the readiness of Jim to
+receive them for the summer.
+
+It would be pleasant to follow them into their forest pastimes, but more
+stirring and important matters will hold us to the city.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+IN WHICH MR. BELCHER EXPRESSES HIS DETERMINATION TO BECOME A "FOUNDER,"
+BUT DROPS HIS NOUN IN FEAR OF A LITTLE VERB OF THE SAME NAME.
+
+
+Mrs. Dillingham had a difficult role to play. She could not break with
+Mr. Belcher without exposing her motives and bringing herself under
+unpleasant suspicion and surveillance. She felt that the safety of her
+protege and his father would be best consulted by keeping peace with
+their enemy; yet every approach of the great scoundrel disgusted and
+humiliated her. That side of her nature which had attracted and
+encouraged him was sleeping, and, under the new motives which were at
+work within her, she hoped that it would never wake. She looked down the
+devious track of her past, counted over its unworthy and most unwomanly
+satisfactions, and wondered. She looked back to a great wrong which she
+had once inflicted on an innocent man, with a self-condemnation so deep
+that all the womanhood within her rose into the purpose of reparation.
+
+The boy whom she had called to her side, and fastened by an impassioned
+tenderness more powerful even than her wonderful art, had become to her
+a fountain of pure motives. She had a right to love this child. She owed
+a duty to him beyond any woman living. Grasping her right, and
+acknowledging her duty--a right and duty accorded to her by his nominal
+protector--she would not have forfeited them for the world. They soon
+became all that gave significance to her existence, and to them she
+determined that her life should be devoted. To stand well with this
+boy, to be loved, admired and respected by him, to be to him all that a
+mother could be, to be guided by his pure and tender conscience toward
+her own reformation, to waken into something like life and nourish into
+something like strength the starved motherhood within her--these became
+her dominant motives.
+
+Mr. Belcher saw the change in her, but was too gross in his nature, too
+blind in his passion, and too vain in his imagined power, to comprehend
+it. She was a woman, and had her whims, he thought. Whims were
+evanescent, and this particular whim would pass away. He was vexed by
+seeing the boy so constantly with her. He met them walking together in
+the street, or straying in the park, hand in hand, or caught the lad
+looking at him from her window. He could not doubt that all this
+intimacy was approved by Mr. Balfour. Was she playing a deep game? Could
+she play it for anybody but himself--the man who had taken her heart by
+storm? Her actions, however, even when interpreted by his self-conceit,
+gave him uneasiness. She had grown to be very kind and considerate
+toward Mrs. Belcher. Had this friendship moved her to crush the passion
+for her husband? Ah! if she could only know how true he was to her in
+his untruthfulness!--how faithful he was to her in his perjury!--how he
+had saved himself for the ever-vanishing opportunity!
+
+Many a time the old self-pity came back to the successful scoundrel.
+Many a time he wondered why the fate which had been so kind to him in
+other things would not open the door to his wishes in this. With this
+unrewarded passion gnawing at his heart, and with the necessity of
+treating the wife of his youth with constantly increasing consideration,
+in order to cover it from her sight, the General was anything but a
+satisfied and happy man. The more he thought upon it, the more morbid he
+grew, until it seemed to him that his wife must look through his
+hypocritical eyes into his guilty heart. He grew more and more guarded
+in his speech. If he mentioned Mrs. Dillingham's name, he always did it
+incidentally, and then only for the purpose of showing that he had no
+reason to avoid the mention of it.
+
+There was another thought that preyed upon him. He was consciously a
+forger. He had not used the document he had forged, but he had
+determined to do so. Law had not laid its finger upon him, but its
+finger was over him. He had not yet crossed the line that made him
+legally a criminal, but the line was drawn before him, and only another
+step would be necessary to place him beyond it. A brood of fears was
+gathering around him. They stood back, glaring upon him from the
+distance; but they only waited another act in his career of dishonor to
+crowd in and surround him with menace. Sometimes he shrank from his
+purpose, but the shame of being impoverished and beaten spurred him
+renewedly to determination. He became conscious that what there was of
+bravery in him was sinking into bravado. His self-conceit, and what
+little he possessed of self-respect, were suffering. He dimly
+apprehended the fact that he was a rascal, and it made him
+uncomfortable. It ceased to be enough for him to assure himself that he
+was no more a rascal than those around him. He reached out on every side
+for means to maintain his self-respect. What good thing could he do to
+counterbalance his bad deeds? How could he shore himself up by public
+praise, by respectable associations, by the obligations of the public
+for deeds of beneficence? It is the most natural thing in the world for
+the dishonest steward, who cheats his lord, to undertake to win
+consideration against contingencies with his lord's money.
+
+On the same evening in which the gathering at the Sevenoaks tavern
+occurred, preceding Jim's wedding, Mr. Belcher sat in his library,
+looking over the document which nominally conveyed to him the right and
+title of Paul Benedict to his inventions. He had done this many times
+since he had forged three of the signatures, and secured a fraudulent
+addition to the number from the hand of Phipps. He had brought himself
+to believe, to a certain extent, in their genuineness, and was wholly
+sure that they were employed on behalf of justice. The inventions had
+cost Benedict little or no money, and he, Mr. Belcher, had developed
+them at his own risk. Without his money and his enterprise they would
+have amounted to nothing. If Benedict had not lost his reason, the
+document would have been legally signed. The cause of Benedict's lapse
+from sanity did not occur to him. He only knew that if the inventor had
+not become insane, he should have secured his signature at some wretched
+price, and out of this conviction he reared his self-justification.
+
+"It's right!" said Mr. Belcher. "The State prison may be in it, but it's
+right!"
+
+And then, confirming his foul determination by an oath, he added:
+
+"I'll stand by it."
+
+Then he rang his bell, and called for Phipps.
+
+"Phipps," said he, as his faithful and plastic servitor appeared, "come
+in, and close the door."
+
+When Phipps, with a question in his face, walked up to where Mr. Belcher
+was sitting at his desk, with the forged document before him, the latter
+said:
+
+"Phipps, did you ever see this paper before?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Now, think hard--don't be in a hurry--and tell me when you saw it
+before. Take it in your hand, and look it all over, and be sure."
+
+"I can't tell, exactly," responded Phipps, scratching his had; "but I
+should think it might have been six years ago, or more. It was a long
+time before we came from Sevenoaks."
+
+"Very well; is that your signature?"
+
+"It is, sir."
+
+"Did you see Benedict write his name? Did you see Johnson and Ramsey
+write their names?"
+
+"I did, sir."
+
+"Do you remember all the circumstances--what I said to you, and what you
+said to me--why you were in the room?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Phipps, do you know that if it is ever found out that you have signed
+that paper within a few weeks, you are as good as a dead man?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean, sir," replied Phipps, in evident alarm.
+
+"Do you know that that signature is enough to send you to the State
+prison?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Well, Phipps, it is just that, provided it isn't stuck to. You will
+have to swear to it, and stand by it. I know the thing is coming. I can
+feel it in my bones. Why it hasn't come before, the Lord only knows."
+
+Phipps had great faith in the might of money, and entire faith in Mr.
+Belcher's power to save him from any calamity. His master, during all
+his residence with and devotion to him, had shown himself able to secure
+every end he had sought, and he believed in him, or believed in his
+power, wholly.
+
+"Couldn't you save me, sir, if I were to get into trouble?" he inquired,
+anxiously.
+
+"That depends upon whether you stand by me, Phipps. It's just here, my
+boy. If you swear, through thick and thin, that you saw these men sign
+this paper, six years ago or more, that you signed it at the same time,
+and stand by your own signature, you will sail through all right, and do
+me a devilish good turn. If you balk, or get twisted up in your own
+reins, or thrown off your seat, down goes your house. If you stand by
+me, I shall stand by you. The thing is all right, and just as it ought
+to be, but it's a little irregular. It gives me what belongs to me, but
+the law happens to be against it."
+
+Phipps hesitated, and glanced suspiciously, and even menacingly, at the
+paper. Mr. Belcher knew that he would like to tear it in pieces, and so,
+without unseemly haste, he picked it up, placed it in its drawer, locked
+it in, and put the key in his pocket.
+
+"I don't want to get into trouble," said Phipps.
+
+"Phipps," said Mr. Belcher, in a conciliatory tone, "I don't intend
+that you shall get into trouble."
+
+Then, rising, and patting his servant on the shoulder, he added:
+
+"But it all depends on your standing by me, and standing by yourself.
+You know that you will lose nothing by standing by the General, Phipps;
+you know me."
+
+Phipps was not afraid of crime; he was only afraid of its possible
+consequences; and Mr. Belcher's assurance of safety, provided he should
+remember his story and adhere to it, was all that he needed to confirm
+him in the determination to do what Mr. Belcher wished him to do.
+
+After Phipps retired, Mr. Belcher took out his document again, and
+looked it over for the hundredth time. He recompared the signatures
+which he had forged with their originals. Consciously a villain, he
+regarded himself still as a man who was struggling for his rights. But
+something of his old, self-reliant courage was gone. He recognized the
+fact that there was one thing in the world more powerful than himself.
+The law was against him. Single-handed, he could meet men; but the great
+power which embodied the justice and strength of the State awed him, and
+compelled him into a realization of his weakness.
+
+The next morning Mr. Belcher received his brokers and operators in bed
+in accordance with his custom. He was not good-natured. His operations
+in Wall street had not been prosperous for several weeks. In some way,
+impossible to be foreseen by himself or his agents, everything had
+worked against him He knew that if he did not rally from this passage of
+ill-luck, he would, in addition to his loss of money, lose something of
+his prestige. He had a stormy time with his advisers and tools, swore a
+great deal, and sent them off in anything but a pleasant frame of mind.
+
+Talbot was waiting in the drawing-room when the brokers retired, and
+followed his card upstairs, where he found his principal with an ugly
+frown upon his face.
+
+"Toll," he whimpered, "I'm glad to see you. You're the best of 'em all,
+and in the long run, you bring me the most money."
+
+"Thank you," responded the factor, showing his white teeth in a
+gratified smile.
+
+"Toll, I'm not exactly ill, but I'm not quite myself. How long it will
+last I don't know, but just this minute the General is devilish unhappy,
+and would sell himself cheap. Things are not going right. I don't sleep
+well."
+
+"You've got too much money," suggested Mr. Talbot.
+
+"Well, what shall I do with it?"
+
+"Give it to me."
+
+"No, I thank you; I can do better. Besides, you are getting more than
+your share of it now."
+
+"Well, I don't ask it of you," said Talbot, "but if you wish to get rid
+of it, I could manage a little more of it without trouble."
+
+"Toll, look here! The General wants to place a little money where it
+will bring him some reputation with the highly respectable old
+dons,--our spiritual fathers, you know--and the brethren. Understand?"
+
+"General, you are deep; you'll have to explain."
+
+"Well, all our sort of fellows patronize something or other. They cheat
+a man out of his eye-teeth one day, and the next, you hear of them
+endowing something or other, or making a speech to a band of old women,
+or figuring on a top-lofty list of directors. That's the kind of thing I
+want."
+
+"You can get any amount of it, General, by paying for it. All they want
+is money; they don't care where it comes from."
+
+"Toll, shut up. I behold a vision. Close your eyes now, and let me paint
+it for you. I see the General--General Robert Belcher, the
+millionaire--in the aspect of a great public benefactor. He is dressed
+in black, and sits upon a platform, in the midst of a lot of seedy men
+in white chokers. They hand him a programme. There is speech-making
+going on, and every speech makes an allusion to 'our benefactor,' and
+the brethren and sisters cheer. The General bows. High old doctors of
+divinity press up to be introduced. They are all after more. They
+flatter the General; they coddle him. They give him the highest seat.
+They pretend to respect him. They defend him from all slanders. They are
+proud of the General. He is their man. I look into the religious
+newspapers, and in one column I behold a curse on the stock-jobbing of
+Wall street, and in the next, the praise of the beneficence of General
+Robert Belcher. I see the General passing down Wall street the next day.
+I see him laughing out of the corner of his left eye, while his friends
+punch him in the ribs. Oh, Toll! it's delicious! Where are your
+feelings, my boy? Why don't you cry?"
+
+"Charming picture, General! Charming! but my handkerchief is fresh, and
+I must save it. I may have a cold before night."
+
+"Well, now, Toll, what's the thing to be done?"
+
+"What do you say to soup-kitchens for the poor? They don't cost so very
+much, and you get your name in the papers."
+
+"Soup-kitchens be hanged! That's Mrs. Belcher's job. Besides, I don't
+want to get up a reputation for helping the poor. They're a troublesome
+lot and full of bother; I don't believe in 'em. They don't associate you
+with anybody but themselves. What I want is to be in the right sort of a
+crowd."
+
+"Have you thought of a hospital?"
+
+"Yes, I've thought of a hospital, but I don't seem to hanker after it.
+To tell the truth, the hospitals are pretty well taken up already. I
+might work into a board of directors by paying enough, I suppose, but it
+is too much the regular thing. What I want is ministers--something
+religious, you know."
+
+"You might run a church-choir," suggested Talbot, "or, better than that,
+buy a church, and turn the crank."
+
+"Yes, but they are not quite large enough. I tell you what it is, Toll,
+I believe I'm pining for a theological seminary. Ah, my heart! my heart!
+If I could only tell you, Toll, how it yearns over the American people!
+Can't you see, my boy, that the hope of the nation is in educated and
+devoted young men? Don't you see that we are going to the devil with our
+thirst for filthy lucre? Don't you understand how noble a thing it would
+be for one of fortune's favorites to found an institution with his
+wealth, that would bear down its blessings to unborn millions? What if
+that institution should also bear his name? What if that name should be
+forever associated with that which is most hallowed in our national
+history? Wouldn't it pay? Eh, Toll?"
+
+Mr. Talbot laughed.
+
+"General, your imagination will be the death of you, but there is really
+nothing impracticable in your plan. All these fellows want is your
+money. They will give you everything you want for it in the way of
+glory."
+
+"I believe you; and wouldn't it be fun for the General? I vow I must
+indulge. I'm getting tired of horses; and these confounded suppers don't
+agree with me. It's a theological seminary or nothing. The tides of my
+destiny, Toll--you understand--the tides of my destiny tend in that
+direction, and I resign my bark to their sway. I'm going to be a
+founder, and I feel better already."
+
+It was well that he did, for at this moment a dispatch was handed in
+which gave him a shock, and compelled him to ask Talbot to retire while
+he dressed.
+
+"Don't go away, Toll," he said; "I want to see you again."
+
+The dispatch that roused the General from his dream of beneficence was
+from his agent at Sevenoaks, and read thus: "Jim Fenton's wedding
+occurred this morning. He was accompanied by a man whom several old
+citizens firmly believe to be Paul Benedict, though he passed under
+another name. Balfour and Benedict's boy were here, and all are gone up
+to Number Nine. Will write particulars."
+
+The theological seminary passed at once into the realm of dimly
+remembered dreams, to be recalled or forgotten as circumstances should
+determine. At present, there was some thing else to occupy the General's
+mind.
+
+Before he had completed his toilet, he called for Talbot.
+
+"Toll," said he, "if you were in need of legal advice of the best kind,
+and wanted to be put through a thing straight, whether it were right or
+not, to whom would you apply? Now mind, I don't want any milksops."
+
+"I know two or three lawyers here who have been through a theological
+seminary," Talbot responded, with a knowing smile.
+
+"Oh, get out! There's no joke about this. I mean business now."
+
+"Well, I took pains to show you your man, at my house, once. Don't you
+remember him?"
+
+"Cavendish?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I don't like him."
+
+"Nor do I. He'll bleed you; but he's your man."
+
+"All right; I want to see him."
+
+"Get into my coupe, and I'll take you to his office."
+
+Mr. Belcher went to the drawer that contained his forged document. Then
+he went back to Talbot, and said:
+
+"Would Cavendish come here?"
+
+"Not he! If you want to see him, you must go where he is. He wouldn't
+walk into your door to accommodate you if he knew it."
+
+Mr. Belcher was afraid of Cavendish, as far as he could be afraid of any
+man. The lawyer had bluffed everybody at the dinner-party, and, in his
+way, scoffed at everybody. He had felt in the lawyer's presence the
+contact of a nature which possessed more self-assertion and
+self-assurance than his own. He had felt that Cavendish could read him,
+could handle him, could see through his schemes. He shrank from exposing
+himself, even to the scrutiny of this sharp man, whom he could hire for
+any service. But he went again to the drawer, and, with an excited and
+trembling hand, drew forth the accursed document. With this he took the
+autographs on which his forgeries were based. Then he sat down by
+himself, and thought the matter all over, while Talbot waited in another
+room. It was only by a desperate determination that he started at last,
+called Talbot down stairs, put on his hat, and went out.
+
+It seemed to the proprietor, as he emerged from his house, that there
+was something weird in the morning light. He looked up, and saw that the
+sky was clear. He looked down, and the street was veiled in a strange
+shadow. The boys looked at him as if they were half startled.
+Inquisitive faces peered at him from a passing omnibus. A beggar laughed
+as he held out his greasy hat. Passengers paused to observe him. All
+this attention, which he once courted and accepted as flattery and fame,
+was disagreeable to him.
+
+"Good God! Toll, what has happened since last night?" he said, as he
+sank back upon the satin cushions of the coupe.
+
+"General, I don't think you're quite well. Don't die now. We can't spare
+you yet."
+
+"Die? Do I look like it?" exclaimed Mr. Belcher, slapping his broad
+chest. "Don't talk to me about dying. I haven't thought about that yet."
+
+"I beg your pardon. You know I didn't mean to distress you."
+
+Then the conversation dropped, and the carriage wheeled on. The roll of
+vehicles, the shouting of drivers, the panoramic scenes, the flags
+swaying in the morning sky, the busy throngs that went up and down
+Broadway, were but the sights and sounds of a dimly apprehended dream.
+He was journeying toward guilt. What would be its end? Would he not be
+detected in it at the first step? How could he sit before the hawk-eyed
+man whom he was about to meet without in some way betraying his secret?
+
+When the coupe stopped, Talbot roused his companion with difficulty.
+
+"This can't be the place, Toll. We haven't come half a mile."
+
+"On the contrary, we have come three miles."
+
+"It can't be possible, Toll. I must look at your horse. I'd no idea you
+had such an animal."
+
+Then Mr. Belcher got out, and looked the horse over. He was a
+connoisseur, and he stood five minutes on the curb-stone, expatiating
+upon those points of the animal that pleased him.
+
+"I believe you came to see Mr. Cavendish," suggested Talbot with a
+laugh.
+
+"Yes, I suppose I must go up. I hate lawyers, anyway."
+
+They climbed the stairway. They knocked at Mr. Cavendish's door. A boy
+opened it, and took in their cards. Mr. Cavendish was busy, but would
+see them in fifteen minutes. Mr. Belcher sat down in the ante-room, took
+a newspaper from his pocket, and began to read. Then he took a pen and
+scribbled, writing his own name with three other names, across which he
+nervously drew his pen. Then he drew forth his knife, and tremblingly
+dressed his finger-nails. Having completed this task, he took out a
+large pocket-book, withdrew a blank check, filled and signed it, and put
+it back. Realizing, at last, that Talbot was waiting to go in with him,
+he said:
+
+"By the way, Toll, this business of mine is private."
+
+"Oh, I understand," said Talbot; "I'm only going in to make sure that
+Cavendish remembers you."
+
+What Talbot really wished to make sure of was, that Cavendish should
+know that he had brought him his client.
+
+At last they heard a little bell which summoned the boy, who soon
+returned to say that Mr. Cavendish would see them. Mr. Belcher looked
+around for a mirror, but discovering none, said:
+
+"Toll, look at me! Am I all right? Do you see anything out of the way?"
+
+Talbot having looked him over, and reported favorably they followed the
+boy into the penetralia of the great office, and into the presence of
+the great man. Mr. Cavendish did not rise, but leaned back in his huge,
+carved chair, and rubbed his hands, pale in their morning whiteness, and
+said, coldly:
+
+"Good morning, gentlemen; sit down."
+
+Mr. Talbot declined. He had simply brought to him his friend, General
+Belcher, who, he believed, had a matter of business to propose. Then,
+telling Mr. Belcher that he should leave the coupe at his service, he
+retired.
+
+Mr. Belcher felt that he was already in court. Mr. Cavendish sat behind
+his desk in a judicial attitude, with his new client fronting him. The
+latter fell, or tried to force himself, into a jocular mood and bearing,
+according to his custom on serious occasions.
+
+"I am likely to have a little scrimmage," said he, "and I shall want
+your help, Mr. Cavendish."
+
+Saying this, he drew forth a check for a thousand dollars, which he had
+drawn in the ante-room, and passed it over to the lawyer. Mr. Cavendish
+took it up listlessly, held it by its two ends, read its face, examined
+its back, and tossed it into a drawer, as if it were a suspicious
+sixpence.
+
+"It's a thousand dollars," said Mr. Belcher, surprised that the sum had
+apparently made no impression.
+
+"I see--a retainer--thanks!"
+
+All the time the hawk-eyes were looking into Mr. Belcher. All the time
+the scalp was moving backward and forward, as if he had just procured a
+new one, that might be filled up before night, but for the moment was a
+trifle large. All the time there was a subtle scorn upon the lips, the
+flavor of which the finely curved nose apprehended with approval.
+
+"What's the case, General?"
+
+The General drew from his pocket his forged assignment, and passed it
+into the hand of Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"Is that a legally constructed document?" he inquired.
+
+Mr. Cavendish read it carefully, every word. He looked at the
+signatures. He looked at the blank page on the back. He looked at the
+tape with which it was bound. He fingered the knot with which it was
+tied. He folded it carefully, and handed it back.
+
+"Yes--absolutely perfect," he said. "Of course I know nothing about the
+signatures. Is the assignor living?"
+
+"That is precisely what I don't know," replied Mr. Belcher. "I supposed
+him to be dead for years. I have now reason to suspect that he is
+living."
+
+"Have you been using these patents?
+
+"Yes, and I've made piles of money on them."
+
+"Is your right contested?"
+
+"No; but I have reason to believe that it will be."
+
+"What reason?" inquired Mr. Cavendish, sharply.
+
+Mr. Belcher was puzzled.
+
+"Well, the man has been insane, and has forgotten, very likely, what he
+did before his insanity. I have reason to believe that such is the case,
+and that he intends to contest my right to the inventions which this
+paper conveys to me."
+
+"What reason, now?"
+
+Mr. Belcher's broad expanse of face crimsoned into a blush, and he
+simply answered:
+
+"I know the man."
+
+"Who is his lawyer?"
+
+"Balfour."
+
+Mr. Cavendish gave a little start.
+
+"Let me see that paper again," said he.
+
+After looking it through again, he said, dryly:
+
+"I know Balfour. He is a shrewd man, and a good lawyer: and unless he
+has a case, or thinks he has one, he will not fight this document. What
+deviltry there is in it, I don't know, and I don't want you to tell me.
+I can tell you that you have a hard man to fight. Where are these
+witnesses?"
+
+"Two of them are dead. One of them is living, and is now in the city."
+
+"What can he swear to?"
+
+"He can swear to his own signature, and to all the rest. He can relate
+and swear to all the circumstances attending the execution of the
+paper."
+
+"And you know that these rights were never previously conveyed."
+
+"Yes, I know they never were."
+
+"Then, mark you, General, Balfour has no case at all--provided this
+isn't a dirty paper. If it is a dirty paper, and you want me to serve
+you, keep your tongue to yourself. You've recorded it, of course."
+
+"Recorded it?" inquired Mr. Belcher in an alarm which he did not attempt
+to disguise.
+
+"You don't mean to tell me that this paper has been in existence more
+than six years, and has not been recorded?"
+
+"I didn't know it was necessary."
+
+Mr. Cavendish tossed the paper back to the owner of it with a sniff of
+contempt.
+
+"It isn't worth that!" said he, snapping his fingers.
+
+Then he drew out the check from his drawer, and handed it back to Mr.
+Belcher.
+
+"There's no case, and I don't want your money," said he.
+
+"But there is a case!" said Mr. Belcher, fiercely, scared out of his
+fear. "Do you suppose I am going to be cheated out of my rights without
+a fight? I'm no chicken, and I'll spend half a million before I'll give
+up my rights."
+
+Mr. Cavendish laughed.
+
+"Well, go to Washington," said he, "and if you don't find that Balfour
+or somebody else has been there before you, I shall be mistaken. Balfour
+isn't very much of a chicken, and he knows enough to know that the first
+assignment recorded there holds. Why has he not been down upon you
+before this? Simply because he saw that you were making money for his
+client, and he preferred to take it all out of you in a single slice. I
+know Balfour, and he carries a long head. Chicken!"
+
+Mr. Belcher was in distress. The whole game was as obvious and real to
+him as if he had assured himself of its truth. He staggered to his feet.
+He felt the hand of ruin upon him. He believed that while he had been
+perfecting his crime he had been quietly overreached. He lost his
+self-command, and gave himself up to profanity and bluster, at which Mr.
+Cavendish laughed.
+
+"There's no use in that sort of thing, General," said he. "Go to
+Washington. Ascertain for yourself about it, and if you find it as I
+predict, make the best of it. You can make a compromise of some sort. Do
+the best you can."
+
+There was one thing that Mr. Cavendish had noticed. Mr. Belcher had made
+no response to him when he told him that if the paper was a dirty one he
+did not wish to know it. He had made up his mind that there was mischief
+in it, somewhere. Either the consideration had never been paid, or the
+signatures were fraudulent, or perhaps the paper had been executed when
+the assignor was demonstrably of unsound mind. Somewhere, he was
+perfectly sure, there was fraud.
+
+"General," said he, "I have my doubts about this paper. I'm not going to
+tell you why. I understand that there is one witness living who will
+swear to all these signatures."
+
+"There is."
+
+"Is he a credible witness? Has he ever committed a crime? Can anything
+wrong be proved against him?"
+
+"The witness," responded Mr. Belcher, "is my man Phipps; and a more
+faithful fellow never lived. I've known him for years, and he was never
+in an ugly scrape in his life."
+
+"Well, if you find that no one is before you on the records, come back;
+and when you come you may as well multiply that check by ten. When I
+undertake a thing of this kind, I like to provide myself against all
+contingencies."
+
+Mr. Belcher groaned, and tore up the little check that seemed so large
+when he drew it, and had shrunk to such contemptible dimensions in the
+hands of the lawyer.
+
+"You lawyers put the lancet in pretty deep."
+
+"Our clients never do!" said Mr. Cavendish through his sneering lips.
+
+Then the boy knocked, and came in. There was another gentleman who
+wished to see the lawyer.
+
+"I shall go to Washington to-day, and see you on my return," said Mr.
+Belcher.
+
+Then, bidding the lawyer a good-morning, he went out, ran down the
+stairs, jumped into Mr. Talbot's waiting coupe, and ordered himself
+driven home. Arriving there, he hurriedly packed a satchel, and,
+announcing to Mrs. Belcher that he had been unexpectedly called to
+Washington, went out, and made the quickest passage possible to Jersey
+City. As he had Government contracts on hand, his wife asked no
+questions, and gave the matter no thought.
+
+The moment Mr. Belcher found himself on the train, and in motion, he
+became feverishly excited. He cursed himself that he had not attended to
+this matter before. He had wondered why Balfour was so quiet. With
+Benedict alive and in communication, or with Benedict dead, and his heir
+in charge, why had he made no claim upon rights which were the basis of
+his own fortune? There could be but one answer to these questions, and
+Cavendish had given it!
+
+He talked to himself, and attracted the attention of those around him.
+He walked the platforms at all the stations where the train stopped. He
+asked the conductor a dozen times at what hour the train would arrive in
+Washington, apparently forgetting that he had already received his
+information. He did not reach his destination until evening, and then,
+of course, all the public offices were closed. He met men whom he knew,
+but he would not be tempted by them into a debauch. He went to bed
+early, and, after a weary night of sleeplessness, found himself at the
+Patent Office before a clerk was in his place.
+
+When the offices were opened, he sought his man, and revealed his
+business. He prepared a list of the patents in which he was interested,
+and secured a search of the records of assignment. It was a long time
+since the patents had been issued, and the inquisition was a tedious
+one; but it resulted, to his unspeakable relief, in the official
+statement that no one of them had ever been assigned. Then he brought
+out his paper, and, with a blushing declaration that he had not known
+the necessity of its record until the previous day, saw the assignment
+placed upon the books.
+
+Then he was suddenly at ease. Then he could look about him. A great
+burden was rolled from his shoulders, and he knew that he ought to be
+jolly; but somehow his spirits did not rise. As he emerged from the
+Patent Office, there was the same weird light in the sky that he had
+noticed the day before, on leaving his house with Talbot. The great dome
+of the Capitol swelled in the air like a bubble, which seemed as if it
+would burst. The broad, hot streets glimmered as if a volcano were
+breeding under them. Everything looked unsubstantial. He found himself
+watching for Balfour, and expecting to meet him at every corner. He was
+in a new world, and had not become wonted to it--the world of conscious
+crime--the world of outlawry. It had a sun of its own, fears of its own,
+figures and aspects of its own. There was a new man growing up within
+him, whom he wished to hide. To this man's needs his face had not yet
+become hardened, his words had not yet been trained beyond the danger of
+betrayal, his eyes had not adjusted their pupils for vision and
+self-suppression.
+
+He took the night train home, breakfasted at the Astor, and was the
+first man to greet Mr. Cavendish when that gentleman entered his
+chambers. Mr. Cavendish sat listlessly, and heard his story. The
+lawyer's hands were as pale, his scalp as uneasy, and his lips as
+redolent of scorn as they were two days before, while his nose bent to
+sniff the scorn with more evident approval than then. He apprehended
+more thoroughly the character of the man before him, saw more clearly
+the nature of his business, and wondered with contemptuous incredulity
+that Balfour had not been sharper and quicker.
+
+After Mr. Belcher had stated the facts touching the Washington records,
+Mr. Cavendish said:
+
+"Well, General, as far as appearances go, you have the lead. Nothing but
+the overthrow of your assignment can damage you, and, as I told you the
+day before yesterday, if the paper is dirty, don't tell me of it--that
+is, if you want me to do anything for you. Go about your business, say
+nothing to anybody, and if you are prosecuted, come to me."
+
+Still Mr. Belcher made no response to the lawyer's suggestion touching
+the fraudulent nature of the paper; and the latter was thoroughly
+confirmed in his original impression that there was something wrong
+about it.
+
+Then Mr. Belcher went out upon Wall street, among his brokers, visited
+the Exchange, visited the Gold Room, jested with his friends, concocted
+schemes, called upon Talbot, wrote letters, and filled up his day. Going
+home to dinner, he found a letter from his agent at Sevenoaks, giving in
+detail his reasons for supposing not only that Benedict had been in the
+village, but that, from the time of his disappearance from the Sevenoaks
+poor-house, he had been living at Number Nine with Jim Fenton. Balfour
+had undoubtedly found him there, as he was in the habit of visiting the
+woods. Mike Conlin must also have found him there, and worst of all, Sam
+Yates must have discovered him. The instruments that he had employed, at
+a considerable cost, to ascertain whether Benedict were alive or dead
+had proved false to him. The discovery that Sam Yates was a traitor made
+him tremble. It was from him that he had procured the autographs on
+which two of his forgeries were based. He sat down immediately, and
+wrote a friendly letter to Yates, putting some business into his hands,
+and promising more. Then he wrote to his agent, telling him of his
+interest in Yates, and of his faithful service, and directing him to
+take the reformed man under his wing, and, as far as possible, to
+attach him to the interests of the concern.
+
+Two days afterward, he looked out of his window and saw Mr. Balfour
+descending the steps of his house with a traveling satchel in his hand.
+Calling Phipps, he directed him to jump into the first cab, or carriage,
+pay double price, and make his way to the ferry that led to the
+Washington cars, see if Balfour crossed at that point, and learn, if
+possible, his destination. Phipps returned in an hour and a half with
+the information that the lawyer had bought a ticket for Washington.
+
+Then Mr. Belcher knew that trouble was brewing, and braced himself to
+meet it. In less than forty-eight hours, Balfour would know, either that
+he had been deceived by Benedict, or that a forgery had been committed.
+Balfour was cautious, and would take time to settle this question in his
+own mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+WHEREIN THE GENERAL LEAPS THE BOUNDS OF LAW, FINDS HIMSELF IN A NEW
+WORLD, AND BECOMES THE VICTIM OF HIS FRIENDS WITHOUT KNOWING IT.
+
+
+For several weeks the General had been leading a huge and unscrupulous
+combination for "bearing" International Mail. The stock had ruled high
+for a long time--higher than was deemed legitimate by those familiar
+with its affairs--and the combination began by selling large blocks of
+the stock for future delivery, at a point or two below the market. Then
+stories about the corporation began to be circulated upon the street, of
+the most damaging character--stories of fraud, peculation, and rapidly
+diminishing business--stories of maturing combinations against the
+company--stories of the imminent retirement of men deemed essential to
+the management. The air was full of rumors. One died only to make place
+for another, and men were forced to believe that where there was so much
+smoke there must be some fire. Still the combination boldly sold. The
+stock broke, and went down, down, down, day after day, and still there
+were strong takers for all that offered. The operation had worked like a
+charm to the point where it was deemed prudent to begin to re-purchase,
+when there occurred one of those mysterious changes in the market which
+none could have foreseen. It was believed that the market had been
+oversold, and the holders held. The combination was short, and up went
+the stock by the run. The most frantic efforts were made to cover, but
+without avail, and as the contracts matured, house after house went down
+with a crash that startled the country. Mr. Belcher, the heaviest man
+of them all, turned the cold shoulder to his confreres in the stupendous
+mischief, and went home to his dinner one day, conscious that half a
+million dollars had slipped through his fingers. He ate but little,
+walked his rooms for an hour like a caged tiger, muttered and swore to
+himself, and finally went off to his club. There seemed to be no way in
+which he could drown his anger, disappointment, and sense of loss,
+except by a debauch, and he was brought home by his faithful Phipps at
+the stage of confidential silliness.
+
+When his brokers appeared at ten the next morning, he drove them from
+the house, and then, with such wits as he could muster, in a head still
+tortured by his night's excesses, thought over his situation. A heavy
+slice of his ready money had been practically swept out of existence. If
+he was not crippled, his wings were clipped. His prestige was departed.
+He knew that men would thereafter be wary of following him, or trusting
+to his sagacity. Beyond the power of his money, and his power to make
+money, he knew that he had no consideration on 'Change--that there were
+five hundred men who would laugh to see the General go down--who had
+less feeling for him, personally, than they entertained toward an
+ordinary dog. He knew this because so far, at least, he understood
+himself. To redeem his position was now the grand desideratum. He would
+do it or die!
+
+There was one direction in which the General had permitted himself to be
+shortened in, or, rather, one in which he had voluntarily crippled
+himself for a consideration. He had felt himself obliged to hold large
+quantities of the stock of the Crooked Valley Railroad, in order to
+maintain his seat at the head of its management. He had parted with
+comparatively little of it since his first huge purchase secured the
+place he sought, and though the price he gave was small, the quantity
+raised the aggregate to a large figure. All this was unproductive. It
+simply secured his place and his influence.
+
+No sooner had he thoroughly realized the great loss he had met with, in
+connection with his Wall street conspiracy, than he began to revolve in
+his mind a scheme which he had held in reserve from the first moment of
+his control of the Crooked Valley Road. He had nourished in every
+possible way the good-will of those who lived along the line. Not only
+this, but he had endeavored to show his power to do anything he pleased
+with the stock.
+
+The people believed that he only needed to raise a finger to carry up
+the price of the stock in the market, and that the same potent finger
+could carry it down at will. He had already wrought wonders. He had
+raised a dead road to life. He had invigorated business in every town
+through which it passed. He was a king, whose word was law and whose
+will was destiny. The rumors of his reverses in Wall street did not
+reach them, and all believed that, in one way or another, their fortunes
+were united with his.
+
+The scheme to which he reverted in the first bitter moments of his loss
+could have originated in no brain less unscrupulous than his own. He
+would repeat the game that had been so successful at Sevenoaks. To do
+this, he only needed to call into action his tools on the street and in
+the management.
+
+In the midst of his schemes, the bell rang at the door, and Talbot was
+announced. Mr. Belcher was always glad to see him, for he had no
+association with his speculations. Talbot had uniformly been friendly
+and ready to serve him. In truth, Talbot was almost his only friend.
+
+"Toll, have you heard the news?"
+
+"About the International Mail?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I've heard something of it, and I've come around this morning to get
+the facts. I shall be bored about them all day by your good friends, you
+know."
+
+"Well, Toll, I've had a sweat."
+
+"You're not crippled?"
+
+"No, but I've lost every dollar I have made since I've been in the city.
+Jones has gone under; Pell has gone under. Cramp & Co. will have to
+make a statement, and get a little time, but they will swim. The General
+is the only man of the lot who isn't shaken. But, Toll, it's devilish
+hard. It scares me. A few more such slices would spoil my cheese."
+
+"Well, now, General, why do you go into these things at all? You are
+making money fast enough in a regular business."
+
+"Ah, but it's tame, tame, tame! I must have excitement. Theatres are
+played out, horses are played out, and suppers raise the devil with me."
+
+"Then take it easy. Don't risk so much. You used to do this sort of
+thing well--used to do it right every time. You got up a good deal of
+reputation for foresight and skill."
+
+"I know, and every man ruined in the International Mail will curse me. I
+led them into it. I shall have a sweet time in Wall street when I go
+there again. But it's like brandy; a man wants a larger dose every time,
+and I shall clean them out yet."
+
+Talbot's policy was to make the General last. He wanted to advise him
+for his good, because his principal's permanent prosperity was the basis
+of his own. He saw that he was getting beyond control, and, under an
+exterior of compliance and complaisance, he was genuinely alarmed.
+
+"Toll," said Mr. Belcher, "you are a good fellow."
+
+"Thank you, General," said the factor, a smile spreading around his
+shining teeth. "My wife will be glad to know it."
+
+"By the way--speaking of your wife--have you seen anything of Mrs.
+Dillingham lately?"
+
+"Nothing. She is commonly supposed to be absorbed by the General."
+
+"Common Supposition is a greater fool than I wish it were."
+
+"That won't do, General. There never was a more evident case of killing
+at first sight than that."
+
+"Well, Toll, I believe the woman is fond of me, but she has a queer way
+of showing it. I think she has changed. It seems so to me, but she's a
+devilish fine creature. Ah, my heart! my heart! Toll."
+
+"You were complaining of it the other day. It was a theological seminary
+then. Perhaps that is the name you know her by."
+
+"Not much theological seminary about her!" with a laugh.
+
+"Well, there's one thing that you can comfort yourself with, General;
+she sees no man but you."
+
+"Is that so?" inquired Mr. Belcher, eagerly.
+
+"That is what everybody says."
+
+Mr. Belcher rolled this statement as a sweet morsel under his tongue.
+She must be hiding her passion from him under an impression of its
+hopelessness! Poor woman! He would see her at the first opportunity.
+
+"Toll," said Mr. Belcher, after a moment of delicious reflection,
+"you're a good fellow."
+
+"I think I've heard that remark before."
+
+"Yes, you're a good fellow, and I'd like to do something for you."
+
+"You've done a great deal for me already, General."
+
+"Yes, and I'm going to do something more."
+
+"Will you put it in my hand or my hat?" inquired Talbot, jocularly.
+
+"Toll, how much Crooked Valley stock have you?"
+
+"A thousand shares."
+
+"What did you buy it for?"
+
+"To help you."
+
+"What have you kept it for?"
+
+"To help keep the General at the head of the management."
+
+"Turn about is fair play, isn't it?"
+
+"That's the adage," responded Talbot.
+
+"Well, I'm going to put that stock up; do you understand?"
+
+"How will you do it?"
+
+"By saying I'll do it. I want it whispered along the line that the
+General is going to put that stock up within a week. They're all greedy.
+They are all just like the rest of us. They know it isn't worth a
+continental copper, but they want a hand in the General's speculations,
+and the General wants it understood that he would like to have them
+share in his profits."
+
+"I think I understand," said Talbot.
+
+"Toll, I've got another vision. Hold on now! I behold a man in the
+General's confidence--a reliable, business man--who whispers to his
+friend that he heard the General say that he had all his plans laid for
+putting up the Crooked Valley stock within a week. This friend whispers
+it to another friend. No names are mentioned. It goes from friend to
+friend. It is whispered through every town along the line. Everybody
+gets crazy over it, and everybody quietly sends in an order for stock.
+In the meantime the General and his factor, yielding to the
+pressure--melted before the public demand--gently and tenderly unload!
+The vision still unrolls. Months later I behold the General buying back
+the stock at his own price, and with it maintaining his place in the
+management. Have you followed me?"
+
+"Yes, General, I've seen it all. I comprehend it, and I shall unload
+with all the gentleness and tenderness possible."
+
+Then the whimsical scoundrel and his willing lieutenant laughed a long,
+heartless laugh.
+
+"Toll, I feel better, and I believe I'll get up," said the General. "Let
+this vision sink deep into your soul. Then give it wings, and speed it
+on its mission. Remember that this is a vale of tears, and don't set
+your affections on things below. By-by!"
+
+Talbot went down stairs, drawing on his gloves, and laughing. Then he
+went out into the warm light, buttoned up his coat instinctively, as if
+to hide the plot he carried, jumped into his coupe, and went to his
+business.
+
+Mr. Belcher dressed himself with more than his usual care, went to Mrs.
+Belcher's room and inquired about his children, then went to his
+library, and drew forth from a secret drawer a little book. He looked it
+over for a few minutes, then placed it in his packet, and went out. The
+allusion that had been made to Mrs. Dillingham, and the assurance that
+he was popularly understood to be her lover, and the only man who was
+regarded by her with favor, intoxicated him, and his old passion came
+back upon him.
+
+It was a strange manifestation of his brutal nature that at this moment
+of his trouble, and this epoch of his cruelty and crime, he longed for
+the comfort of a woman's sympathy. He was too much absorbed by his
+affairs to be moved by that which was basest in his regard for his
+beautiful idol. If he could feel her hand upon his forehead; if she
+could tell him that she was sorry for him; if he could know that she
+loved him; ay, if he could be assured that this woman, whom he had
+believed to be capable of guilt, had prayed for him, it would have been
+balm to his heart. He was sore with struggle, and guilt, and defeat. He
+longed for love and tenderness. As if he were a great bloody dog, just
+coming from the fight of an hour, in which he had been worsted, and
+seeking for a tender hand to pat his head, and call him "poor, good old
+fellow," the General longed for a woman's loving recognition. He was in
+his old mood of self-pity. He wanted to be petted, smoothed,
+commiserated, reassured; and there was only one woman in all the world
+from whom such ministry would be grateful.
+
+He knew that Mrs. Dillingham had heard of his loss, for she heard of and
+read everything. He wanted her to know that it had not shaken him. He
+would not for the world have her suppose that he was growing poor. Still
+to appear to her as a person of wealth and power; still to hold her
+confidence as a man of multiplied resources, was, perhaps, the deepest
+ambition that moved him. He had found that he could not use her in the
+management of his affairs. Though from the first, up to the period of
+her acquaintance with Harry Benedict, she had led him on to love her by
+every charm she possessed, and every art she knew, she had always
+refused to be debased by him in any way.
+
+When he went out of his house, at the close of his interviews with
+Talbot and Mrs. Belcher, it was without a definitely formed purpose to
+visit the charming widow. He simply knew that his heart was hungry. The
+sun-flower is gross, but it knows the sun as well as the morning-glory,
+and turns to it as naturally. It was with like unreasoning instinct that
+he took the little book from its drawer, put on his hat, went down his
+steps, and entered the street that led him toward Mrs. Dillingham's
+house. He could not keep away from her. He would not if he could, and
+so, in ten minutes, he was seated with her, _vis a vis_.
+
+"You have been unfortunate, Mr. Belcher," she said, sympathetically. "I
+am very sorry for you. It is not so bad as I heard, I am sure. You are
+looking very well."
+
+"Oh! it is one of those things that may happen any day, to any man,
+operating as I do," responded Mr. Belcher, with a careless laugh. "The
+General never gets in too deep. He is just as rich to-day as he was when
+he entered the city."
+
+"I'm so glad to hear it--gladder than I can express," said Mrs.
+Dillingham, with heartiness.
+
+Her effusiveness of good feeling and her evident relief from anxiety,
+were honey to him.
+
+"Don't trouble yourself about me," said he, musingly. "The General knows
+what he's about, every time. He has the advantage of the rest of them,
+in his regular business."
+
+"I can't understand how it is," responded Mrs. Dillingham, with fine
+perplexity. "You men are so different from us. I should think you would
+be crazy with your losses."
+
+Now, Mr. Belcher wished to impress Mrs. Dillingham permanently with a
+sense of his wisdom, and to inspire in her an inextinguishable faith in
+his sagacity and prudence. He wanted her to believe in his power to
+retain all the wealth he had won. He would take her into his
+confidence. He had never done this with relation to his business, and
+under that treatment she had drifted away from him. Now that he found
+how thoroughly friendly she was, he would try another method, and bind
+her to him. The lady read him as plainly as if he had been a book, and
+said:
+
+"Oh, General! I have ascertained something that may be of use to you.
+Mr. Benedict is living. I had a letter from his boy this morning--dear
+little fellow--and he tells me how well his father is, and how pleasant
+it is to be with him again."
+
+Mr. Belcher frowned.
+
+"Do you know I can't quite stomach your whim--about that boy? What under
+heaven do you care for him?"
+
+"Oh, you mustn't touch that whim, General," said Mrs. Dillingham,
+laughing. "I am a woman, and I have a right to it. He amuses me, and a
+great deal more than that. I wouldn't tell you a word about him, or what
+he writes to me, if I thought it would do him any harm. He's my pet.
+What in the world have I to do but to pet him? How shall I fill my time?
+I'm tired of society, and disgusted with men--at least, with my old
+acquaintances--and I'm fond of children. They do me good. Oh, you
+mustn't touch my whim!"
+
+"There is no accounting for tastes!" Mr. Belcher responded, with a laugh
+that had a spice of scorn and vexation in it.
+
+"Now, General, what do you care for that boy? If you are a friend to me,
+you ought to be glad that he interests me."
+
+"I don't like the man who has him in charge. I believe Balfour is a
+villain."
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," said the lady. "He never has the courtesy to
+darken my door. I once saw something of him. He is like all the rest, I
+suppose; he is tired of me."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham had played her part perfectly, and the man before her
+was a blind believer in her loyalty to him.
+
+"Let the boy go, and Balfour too," said the General. "They are not
+pleasant topics to me, and your whim will wear out. When is the boy
+coming back?"
+
+"He is to be away all summer, I believe."
+
+"Good!"
+
+Mrs. Dillingham laughed.
+
+"Why, I am glad of it, if you are," she said.
+
+Mr. Belcher drew a little book from his pocket.
+
+"What have you there?" the lady inquired.
+
+"Women have great curiosity," said Mr. Belcher, slapping his knee with
+the little volume.
+
+"And men delight to excite it," she responded.
+
+"The General is a business man, and you want to know how he does it,"
+said he.
+
+"I do, upon my word," responded the lady.
+
+"Very well, the General has two kinds of business, and he never mixes
+one with the other."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Well, you know he's a manufacturer--got his start in that way. So he
+keeps that business by itself, and when he operates in Wall street, he
+operates outside of it. He never risks a dollar that he makes in his
+regular business in any outside operation."
+
+"And you have it all in the little book?"
+
+"Would you like to see it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Very well, you shall, when I've told you all about it. I suppose that
+it must have been ten years ago that a man came to Sevenoaks who was
+full of all sorts of inventions. I tried some of them, and they worked
+well; so I went on furnishing money to him, and, at last, I furnished so
+much that he passed all his rights into my hands--sold everything to me.
+He got into trouble, and lost his head--went into an insane hospital,
+where I supported him for more than two years. Then he was sent back as
+incurable, and, of course, had to go to the poor house. I couldn't
+support him always, you know. I'd paid him fairly, run all the risk,
+and felt that my hands were clean."
+
+"He had sold everything to you, hadn't he?" inquired Mrs. Dillingham,
+sympathetically.
+
+"Certainly, I have the contract, legally drawn, signed, and delivered."
+
+"People couldn't blame you, of course."
+
+"But they did."
+
+"How could they, if you paid him all that belonged to him?"
+
+"That's Sevenoaks. That's the thing that drove me away. Benedict
+escaped, and they all supposed he was dead, and fancied that because I
+had made money out of him, I was responsible for him in some way. But I
+punished them. They'll remember me."
+
+And Mr. Belcher laughed a brutal laugh that rasped Mrs. Dillingham's
+sensibilities almost beyond endurance.
+
+"And, now," said the General, resuming, "this man Balfour means to get
+these patents that I've owned and used for from seven to ten years out
+of me. Perhaps he will do it, but it will be after the biggest fight
+that New York ever saw."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham eyed the little book. She was very curious about it. She
+was delightfully puzzled to know how these men who had the power of
+making money managed their affairs. Account-books were such conundrums
+to her!
+
+She took a little hassock, placed it by Mr. Belcher's chair, and sat
+down, leaning by the weight of a feather against him. It was the first
+approach of the kind she had ever made, and the General appreciated it.
+
+"Now you shall show me all about it," she said.
+
+The General opened the book. It contained the results, in the briefest
+space, of his profits from the Benedict inventions. It showed just how
+and where all those profits had been invested and re-invested. Her
+admiration of the General's business habits and methods was unbounded.
+She asked a thousand silly questions, with one, occasionally, which
+touched an important point. She thanked him for the confidence he
+reposed in her. She was delighted to know his system, which seemed to
+her to guard him from the accidents so common to those engaged in great
+enterprises; and Mr. Belcher drank in her flatteries with supreme
+satisfaction. They comforted him. They were balm to his disappointments.
+They soothed his wounded vanity. They assured him of perfect trust where
+he most tenderly wanted it.
+
+In the midst of these delightful confidences, they were interrupted. A
+servant appeared who told Mr. Belcher that there was a messenger at the
+door who wished to see him on urgent business. Mrs. Dillingham took the
+little book to hold while he went to the door. After a few minutes, he
+returned. It seemed that Phipps, who knew his master's habits, had
+directed the messenger to inquire for him at Mrs. Dillingham's house,
+and that his brokers were in trouble and desired his immediate presence
+in Wall street. The General was very much vexed with the interruption,
+but declared that he should be obliged to follow the messenger.
+
+"Leave the little book until you come back," insisted Mrs. Dillingham,
+sweetly. "It will amuse me all day."
+
+She held it to her breast with both hands, as if it were the sweetest
+treasure that had ever rested there.
+
+"Will you take care of it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He seized her unresisting hand and kissed it.
+
+"Between this time and dinner I shall be back. Then I must have it
+again," he said.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Then the General retired, went to his house and found his carriage
+waiting, and, in less than an hour, was absorbed in raveling the snarled
+affairs connected with his recent disastrous speculation. The good
+nature engendered by his delightful interview with Mrs. Dillingham
+lasted all day, and helped him like a cordial.
+
+The moment he was out of the house, and had placed himself beyond the
+possibility of immediate return, the lady called her servant, and told
+him that she should be at home to nobody during the day. No one was to
+be admitted but Mr. Belcher, on any errand whatsoever.
+
+Then she went to her room, and looked the little book over at her
+leisure. There was no doubt about the business skill and method of the
+man who had made every entry. There was no doubt in her own mind that it
+was a private book, which no eye but that of its owner had ever seen,
+before it had been opened to her.
+
+She hesitated upon the point of honor as to what she would do with it.
+It would be treachery to copy it, but it would be treachery simply
+against a traitor. She did not understand its legal importance, yet she
+knew it contained the most valuable information. It showed, in
+unmistakable figures, the extent to which Benedict had been wronged.
+Perfectly sure that it was a record of the results of fraud against a
+helpless man and a boy in whom her heart was profoundly interested, her
+hesitation was brief. She locked her door, gathered her writing
+materials, and, by an hour's careful and rapid work, copied every word
+of it.
+
+After completing the copy, she went over it again and again, verifying
+every word and figure. When she had repeated the process to her entire
+satisfaction, and even to weariness, she took her pen, and after
+writing: "This is a true copy of the records of a book this day lent to
+me by Robert Belcher," she affixed the date and signed her name.
+
+Then she carefully wrapped Mr. Belcher's book in a sheet of scented
+paper, wrote his name and the number and street of his residence upon
+it, and placed it in her pocket. The copy was consigned to a drawer and
+locked in, to be recalled and re-perused at pleasure.
+
+She understood the General's motives in placing these records and
+figures in her hands. The leading one, of course, related to his
+standing with her. He wanted her to know how rich he was, how prudent
+he was, how invincible he was. He wanted her to stand firm in her belief
+in him, whatever rumors might be afloat upon the street. Beyond this,
+though he had made no allusion to it, she knew that he wanted the use of
+her tongue among his friends and enemies alike. She was a talking woman,
+and it was easy for her, who had been so much at home in the General's
+family, to strengthen his reputation wherever she might touch the
+public. He wanted somebody to know what his real resources
+were--somebody who could, from personal knowledge of his affairs, assert
+their soundness without revealing their details. He believed that Mrs.
+Dillingham would be so proud of the possession of his confidence, and so
+prudent in showing it, that his general business reputation, and his
+reputation for great wealth, would be materially strengthened by her.
+All this she understood, because she knew the nature of the man, and
+appreciated the estimate which he placed upon her.
+
+Nothing remained for her that day but the dreaded return of Mr. Belcher.
+She was now more than ever at a loss to know how she should manage him.
+She had resumed, during her interview with him, her old arts of
+fascination, and seen how easily she could make him the most troublesome
+of slaves. She had again permitted him to kiss her hand. She had asked a
+favor of him and he had granted it. She had committed a breach of trust;
+and though she justified herself in it, she felt afraid and half ashamed
+to meet the man whom she had so thoroughly befooled. She was disgusted
+with the new intimacy with him which her own hand had invited, and
+heartily wished that the long game of duplicity were concluded.
+
+The General found more to engage his attention than he had anticipated,
+and after a few hours' absence from the fascinations of his idol, he
+began to feel uneasy about his book. It was the first time it had ever
+left his hands. He grew nervous about it at last, and was haunted by a
+vague sense of danger. As soon, therefore, as it became apparent to him
+that a second call upon Mrs. Dillingham that day would be
+impracticable, he sent Phipps to her with a note apprising her of the
+fact, and asking her to deliver to him the little account-book he had
+left with her.
+
+It was with a profound sense of relief that she handed it to the
+messenger, and realized that, during that day and evening at least, she
+should be free, and so able to gather back her old composure and
+self-assurance. Mr. Belcher's note she placed with her copy of the book,
+as her authority for passing it into other hands than those of its
+owner.
+
+While these little things, which were destined to have large
+consequences, were in progress in the city, an incident occurred in the
+country, of no less importance in the grand out come of events relating
+to Mr. Belcher and his victim.
+
+It will be remembered that after Mr. Belcher had been apprised by his
+agent at Sevenoaks that Mr. Benedict was undoubtedly alive, and that he
+had lived, ever since his disappearance, at Number Nine, he wrote to Sam
+Yates, putting profitable business into his hands, and that he also
+directed his agent to attach him, by all possible means, to the
+proprietor's interests. His motive, of course, was to shut the lawyer's
+mouth concerning the autograph letters he had furnished. He knew that
+Yates would remember the hints of forgery which he had breathed into his
+ear during their first interview in the city, and would not be slow to
+conclude that those autographs were procured for some foul purpose. He
+had been careful, from the first, not to break up the friendly relations
+that existed between them, and now that he saw that the lawyer had
+played him false, he was more anxious than ever to conciliate him.
+
+Yates attended faithfully to the business intrusted to him, and, on
+reporting results to Mr. Belcher's agent, according to his client's
+directions, was surprised to find him in a very friendly and
+confidential mood, and ready with a proposition for further service.
+There were tangled affairs in which he needed the lawyer's assistance,
+and, as he did not wish to have the papers pertaining to them leave his
+possession, he invited Yates to his house, where they could work
+together during the brief evenings, when he would be free from the cares
+of the mill.
+
+So, for two or three weeks, Sam Yates occupied Mr. Belcher's
+library--the very room in which that person was first introduced to the
+reader. There, under the shade of the old Seven Oaks, he worked during
+the day, and there, in the evening, he held his consultations with the
+agent.
+
+One day, during his work, he mislaid a paper, and in his search for it,
+had occasion to examine the structure of the grand library table at
+which he wrote. The table had two sides, finished and furnished exactly
+alike, with duplicate sets of drawers opposite to each other. He pulled
+out one of these drawers completely, to ascertain whether his lost paper
+had not slipped through a crack and lodged beyond it. In reaching in, he
+moved, or thought he moved, the drawer that met him from the opposite
+side. On going to the opposite side, however, he found that he had not
+moved the drawer at all. He then pulled that out, and, endeavoring to
+look through the space thus vacated by both drawers, found that it was
+blocked by some obstacle that had been placed between them. Finding a
+cane in a corner of the room, he thrust it in, and pushed through to the
+opposite side a little secret drawer, unfurnished with a knob, but
+covered with a lid.
+
+He resumed his seat, and held the little box in his hand. Before he had
+time to think of what he was doing, or to appreciate the fact that he
+had no right to open a secret drawer, he had opened it. It contained but
+one article, and that was a letter directed to Paul Benedict. The letter
+was sealed, so that he was measurably relieved from the temptation to
+examine its contents. Of one thing he felt sure: that if it contained
+anything prejudicial to the writer's interests--and it was addressed in
+the handwriting of Robert Belcher--it had been forgotten. It might be of
+great importance to the inventor. The probabilities were, that a letter
+which was deemed of sufficient importance to secrete in so remarkable a
+manner was an important one.
+
+To Sam Yates, as to Mrs. Dillingham, with the little book in her hand,
+arose the question of honor at once. His heart was with Benedict. He was
+sure that Belcher had some foul purpose in patronizing himself, yet he
+went through a hard struggle before he could bring himself to the
+determination that Benedict and not Belcher should have the first
+handling of the letter. Although the latter had tried to degrade him,
+and was incapable of any good motive in extending patronage to him, he
+felt that he had unintentionally surrounded him with influences which
+had saved him from the most disgraceful ruin. He was at that very moment
+in his employ. He was eating every day the bread which his patronage
+provided.
+
+After all, was he not earning his bread? Was he under any obligation to
+Mr. Belcher which his honest and faithful labor did not discharge? Mr.
+Belcher had written and addressed the letter. He would deliver it, and
+Mr. Benedict should decide whether, under all the circumstances, the
+letter was rightfully his. He put it in his pocket, placed the little
+box back in its home, replaced the drawers which hid it, and went on
+with his work.
+
+Yates carried the letter around in his pocket for several days. He did
+not believe the agent knew either of the existence of the letter or the
+drawer in which it was hidden. There was, in all probability, no man but
+himself in the world who knew anything of the letter. If it was a paper
+of no importance to anybody, of course Mr. Belcher had forgotten it. If
+it was of great importance to Mr. Benedict, Mr. Belcher believed that it
+had been destroyed.
+
+He had great curiosity concerning its contents, and determined to
+deliver it into Mr. Benedict's hand; so, at the conclusion of his
+engagement with Mr. Belcher's agent, he announced to his friends that he
+had accepted Jim Fenton's invitation to visit the new hotel at Number
+Nine, and enjoy a week of sport in the woods.
+
+Before he returned, he became entirely familiar with the contents of
+the letter, and, if he brought it back with him on his return to
+Sevenoaks, it was for deposit in the post-office, directed to James
+Balfour in the handwriting of Paul Benedict.
+
+The contents of this note were of such importance in the establishment
+of justice that Yates, still doubtful of the propriety of his act, was
+able to justify it to his conscience. Under the circumstances, it
+belonged to the man to whom it was addressed, and not to Mr. Belcher at
+all. His own act might be doubtful, but it was in the interest of fair
+dealing, and in opposition to the schemes of a consummate rascal, to
+whom he owed neither respect nor good-will. He would stand by it, and
+take the consequences of it.
+
+Were Mrs. Dillingham and Sam Yates justifiable in their treachery to Mr.
+Belcher? A nice question this, in casuistry! Certainly they had done as
+they would have been done by, had he been in their circumstances and
+they in his. He, at least, who had tried to debauch both of them, could
+reasonably find no fault with them. Their act was the natural result of
+his own influence. It was fruit from seeds of his own sowing. Had he
+ever approached them with a single noble and unselfish motive, neither
+of them could have betrayed him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+IN WHICH THE GENERAL GOES THROUGH A GREAT MANY TRIALS AND MEETS AT LAST
+THE ONE HE HAS SO LONG ANTICIPATED.
+
+
+The fact that the General had deposited the proceeds of his foreign
+sales of arms with a European banking house, ostensibly subject to draft
+for the materials of his manufactures, has already been alluded to. This
+deposit had been augmented by subsequent sales, until it amounted to an
+imposing sum, which Mrs. Dillingham ascertained, from the little
+account-book, to be drawing a low rate of interest. With the proprietor,
+this heavy foreign deposit was partly a measure of personal safety, and
+partly a measure of projected iniquity. He had the instinct to provide
+against any possible contingencies of fortune or crime.
+
+Two or three days after his very agreeable call upon Mrs. Dillingham, he
+had so far mastered his difficulties connected with the International
+Mail that he could find time for another visit, to which he had looked
+forward with eager anticipation.
+
+"I was very much interested in your little book, Mr. Belcher," said the
+lady, boldly.
+
+"The General is one of the ablest of our native authors, eh?" responded
+that facetious person, with a jolly laugh.
+
+"Decidedly," said Mrs. Dillingham, "and so very terse and statistical."
+
+"Interesting book, wasn't it?"
+
+"Very! And it was so kind of you, General, to let me see how you men
+manage such things!"
+
+"We men!" and the General shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"One man, then," said the lady, on seeing that he was disposed to claim
+a monopoly in the wisdom of business.
+
+"Do you remember one little item--a modest little item--concerning my
+foreign deposits? Eh?"
+
+"Little item, General! What are you doing with so much money over
+there?"
+
+"Nothing, or next to nothing. That's my anchor to windward."
+
+"It will hold," responded the lady, "if weight is all that's needed."
+
+"I intend that it shall hold, and that it shall be larger before it is
+smaller."
+
+"I don't understand it;" and Mrs. Dillingham shook her pretty head.
+
+Mr. Belcher sat and thought. There was a curious flush upon his face, as
+he raised his eyes to hers, and looked intensely into them, in the
+endeavor to read the love that hid behind them. He was desperately in
+love with her. The passion, a thousand times repelled by her, and a
+thousand times diverted by the distractions of his large affairs, had
+been raised to new life by his last meeting with her; and the
+determinations of his will grew strong, almost to fierceness. He did not
+know what to say, or how to approach the subject nearest to his heart.
+He had always frightened her so easily; she had been so quick to resent
+any approach to undue familiarity; she had so steadily ignored his
+insinuations, that he was disarmed.
+
+"What are you thinking about, General?"
+
+"You've never seen me in one of my trances, have you?" inquired Mr.
+Belcher, with trembling lips and a forced laugh.
+
+"No! Do you have trances?"
+
+"Trances? Yes; and visions of the most stunning character. Talbot has
+seen me in two or three of them."
+
+"Are they dangerous?"
+
+"Not at all. The General's visions are always of a celestial
+character,--warranted not to injure the most delicate constitution! I
+feel one of them coming on now. Don't disturb me."
+
+"Shall I fan you?"
+
+"Do, please!"
+
+The General closed his eyes. He had never before betrayed such
+excitement in her presence, and had never before appeared so dangerous.
+While she determined that this should be her last exposure to his
+approaches, she maintained her brave and unsuspecting demeanor, and
+playfully waved her fan toward him.
+
+"I behold," said the General, "a business man of great ability and great
+wealth, who discovers too late that his wife is unequally yoked with an
+unbeliever. Love abides not in his home, and his heart is afloat on the
+fierce, rolling sea. He leaves his abode in the country, and seeks in
+the tumultuous life of the metropolis to drown his disappointments. He
+there discovers a beautiful woman, cast in Nature's finest mould, and
+finds himself, for the first time, matched. Gently this heavenly
+creature repels him, though her heart yearns toward him with
+unmistakable tenderness. She is a prudent woman. She has a position to
+maintain. She is alone. She is a friend to the wife of this unfortunate
+gentleman. She is hindered in many ways from giving rein to the impulses
+of her heart. This man of wealth deposits a magnificent sum in Europe.
+This lady goes thither for health and amusement, and draws upon this sum
+at will. She travels from capital to capital, or hides herself in Alpine
+villages, but is found at last by him who has laid his wealth at her
+feet."
+
+The General revealed his vision with occasional glances through
+half-closed eyes at the face that hung bowed before him. It was a
+desperate step, but he had determined to take it when he entered the
+house. Humiliated, tormented, angry, Mrs. Dillingham sat before him,
+covering from his sight as well as she could the passion that raged
+within her. She knew that she had invited the insult. She was conscious
+that her treatment of him, from the first, though she had endeavored to
+change her relations with him without breaking his friendship, had
+nursed his base passion and his guilty purpose. She was undergoing a
+just punishment, and acknowledged to herself the fact. Once she would
+have delighted in tormenting him. Once she would not have hesitated to
+drive him from her door. Once--but she was changed. A little boy who had
+learned to regard her as a mother, was thinking of her in the distant
+woods. She had fastened to that childish life the hungry instincts of
+her motherly nature. She had turned away forever from all that could
+dishonor the lad, or hinder her from receiving his affection without an
+upbraiding conscience.
+
+Mr. Belcher's instincts were quick enough to see that his vision had not
+prospered in the mind to which he had revealed it; and yet, there was a
+hesitation in the manner of the woman before him which he could not
+explain to himself, if he admitted that his proposition had been wholly
+offensive. Mrs. Dillingham's only wish was to get him out of the house.
+If she could accomplish this without further humiliation, it was all she
+desired.
+
+"General," she said, at last, "You must have been drinking. I do not
+think you know what you have said to me."
+
+"On the contrary, I am perfectly sober," said he, rising and approaching
+her.
+
+"You must not come near me. Give me time! give me time!" she exclaimed,
+rising and retreating.
+
+Mr. Belcher was startled by the alarmed and angry look in her eyes.
+"Time!" he said, fiercely; "Eternity, you mean."
+
+"You pretend to care for me, and yet you disobey what you know to be my
+wish. Prove your friendship by leaving me. I wish to be alone."
+
+"Leave you, with not so much as the touch of your hand?" he said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+The General turned on his heel, took up his hat, paused at the door as
+if hesitating what to do; then, without a word, he went down stairs and
+into the street, overwhelmed with self-pity. He had done so much, risked
+so much, and accomplished so little! That she was fond of him there was
+no question in his own mind; but women were so different from men! Yet
+the villain knew that if she had been easily won his heart would have
+turned against her. The prize grew more precious, through the obstacles
+that came between him and its winning. The worst was over, at least; she
+knew his project; and it would all come right in time!
+
+As soon as he was out of the house, Mrs. Dillingham burst into a fit of
+uncontrollable weeping. She had passed through the great humiliation of
+her life. The tree which she had planted and nursed through many years
+of unworthy aims had borne its natural fruit. She groaned under the
+crushing punishment. She almost cursed herself. Her womanly instincts
+were quick to apprehend the fact that only by her own consent or
+invitation, could any man reach a point so near to any woman that he
+could coolly breathe in her ear a base proposition. Yet, with all her
+self-loathing and self-condemnation, was mingled a hatred of the vile
+man who had insulted her, which would have half killed him had it been
+possible for him to know and realize it.
+
+After her first passion had passed away, the question concerning her
+future came up for settlement. She could not possibly remain near Mr.
+Belcher. She must not be exposed to further visits from him. The thought
+that in the little account-book which she had copied there was a record
+that covered a design for her own destruction, stung her to the quick.
+What should she do? She would consult Mr. Balfour.
+
+She knew that on that evening Mr. Belcher would not be at home, that
+after the excitements and disappointments of that day he would seek for
+solace in any place but that which held his wife and children. So,
+muffled in a slight disguise, and followed by her servant, she stole out
+of her house during the evening, and sought the house of the lawyer. To
+him she poured out her heart. To him she revealed all that had passed
+between her and the proprietor, and to him she committed the care of the
+precious document of which she had possessed herself, and the little
+note that accompanied it.
+
+Mr. Balfour advised her to leave the city at once, and to go to some
+place where Mr. Belcher would not be able to find her. He knew of no
+place so fit for her in every respect as Number Nine, with his own
+family and those most dear to her. Her boy and his father were there; it
+was health's own home; and she could remain away as long as it might be
+necessary. She would be wanted as a witness in a few months, at
+furthest, in a suit which he believed would leave her persecutor in a
+position where, forgetting others, he would be absorbed in the effort to
+take care of himself.
+
+Her determination was taken at once. Mr. Balfour accompanied her home,
+and gave her all the necessary directions for her journey; and that
+night she packed a single trunk in readiness for it. In the morning,
+leaving her house to the care of trusty servants, she rode to the
+station, while Mr. Belcher was lolling feverishly in his bed, and in an
+hour was flying northward toward the place that was to be her summer
+home, and into a region that was destined to be associated with her
+future life, through changes and revolutions of which she did not dream.
+
+After her thirty-six hours of patient and fatiguing travel the company
+at Jim Fenton's hotel, eager for letters from the city, stood on the
+bank of the river, waiting the arrival of the guide who had gone down
+for the mail, and such passengers as he might find in waiting. They saw,
+as he came in sight, a single lady in the stern of the little boat,
+deeply veiled, whose name they could not guess. When she debarked among
+them, and looked around upon the waiting and curious group, Harry was
+the first to detect her, and she smothered him with kisses. Mr. Benedict
+stood pale and trembling. Harry impulsively led her toward him, and in a
+moment they were wrapped in a tender embrace. None but Mrs. Balfour, of
+all who were present, understood the relation that existed between the
+two, thus strangely reunited; but it soon became known, and the little
+romance added a new charm to the life in the woods.
+
+It would be pleasant to dwell upon the happy days and the pleasant
+doings of the summer that followed--the long twilights that Mr. Benedict
+and Mrs. Dillingham spent upon the water, their review of the events of
+the past, the humble confessions of the proud lady, the sports and
+diversions of the wilderness, and the delights of society brought by
+circumstances into the closest sympathy. It would be pleasant to remain
+with Jim and "the little woman," in their new enterprise and their new
+house-keeping; but we must return to the city, to follow the fortunes of
+one who, if less interesting than those we leave behind, is more
+important in the present stage and ultimate resolution of our little
+drama.
+
+Soon after Mrs. Dillingham's departure from the city, Mr. Belcher missed
+her. Not content with the position in which he had left his affairs with
+her, he called at her house three days after her disappearance, and
+learned that the servants either did not know or would not tell whither
+she had gone. In his blind self-conceit, he could not suppose that she
+had run away from him. He could not conclude that she had gone to
+Europe, without a word of her purpose breathed to him. Still, even that
+was possible. She had hidden somewhere, and he should hear from her. Had
+he frightened her? Had he been too precipitate? Much as he endeavored to
+explain her sudden disappearance to his own advantage, he was left
+unsatisfied and uneasy.
+
+A few days passed away, and then he began to doubt. Thrown back upon
+himself, deprived of the solace of her society, and released from a
+certain degree of restraint that she had always exercised upon him, he
+indulged more freely in drink, and entered with more recklessness upon
+the excitements of speculation.
+
+The General had become conscious that he was not quite the man that he
+had been. His mind was darkened and dulled by crime. He was haunted by
+vague fears and apprehensions. With his frequent and appalling losses of
+money, he had lost a measure of his faith in himself. His coolness of
+calculation had been diminished; he listened with readier credulity to
+rumors, and yielded more easily to the personal influences around him.
+Even the steady prosperity which attended his regular business became a
+factor in his growing incapacity for the affairs of the street. His
+reliance on his permanent sources of income made him more reckless in
+his speculations.
+
+His grand scheme for "gently" and "tenderly" unloading his Crooked
+Valley stock upon the hands of his trusting dupes along the line,
+worked, however, to perfection. It only required rascality, pure and
+simple, under the existing conditions, to accomplish this scheme, and he
+found in the results nothing left to be desired. They furnished him with
+a capital of ready money, but his old acquaintances discovered the foul
+trick he had played, and gave him a wide berth. No more gigantic
+combinations were possible to him, save with swindlers like himself, who
+would not hesitate to sacrifice him as readily and as mercilessly as he
+had sacrificed his rural victims.
+
+Mrs. Dillingham had been absent a month when he one day received a
+polite note from Mr. Balfour, as Paul Benedict's attorney, requesting
+him, on behalf of his principal, to pay over to him an equitable share
+of the profits upon his patented inventions, and to enter into a
+definite contract for the further use of them.
+
+The request came in so different a form from what he had anticipated,
+and was so tamely courteous, that he laughed over the note in derision.
+"Milk for babes!" he exclaimed, and laughed again. Either Balfour was a
+coward, or he felt that his case was a weak one. Did he think the
+General was a fool?
+
+Without taking the note to Cavendish, who had told him to bring ten
+thousand dollars when he came again, and without consulting anybody,
+he wrote the following note in answer:--
+
+    "_To James Balfour, Esq._:
+
+    "Your letter of this date received, and contents noted. Permit me to
+    say in reply:
+
+    "1st. That I have no evidence that you are Paul Benedict's attorney.
+
+    "2d. That I have no evidence that Paul Benedict is living, and that
+    I do not propose to negotiate in any way, on any business, with a
+    fraud, or a man of straw.
+
+    "3d. That I am the legal assignee of all the patents originally
+    issued to Paul Benedict, which I have used and am now using. I hold
+    his assignment in the desk on which I write this letter, and it
+    stands duly recorded in Washington, though, from my ignorance of the
+    law, it has only recently been placed upon the books in the Patent
+    Office.
+
+    "Permit me to say, in closing, that, as I bear you no malice, I will
+    show you the assignment at your pleasure, and thus relieve you from
+    the danger of entering upon a conspiracy to defraud me of rights
+    which I propose, with all the means at my disposal, to defend.
+
+    "Yours, ROBERT BELCHER."
+
+Mr. Belcher read over this letter with great satisfaction. It seemed to
+him very dignified and very wise. He had saved his ten thousand dollars
+for a while, at least, and bluffed, as he sincerely believed, his
+dreaded antagonist.
+
+Mr. Balfour did more than to indulge in his professional smile, over the
+frank showing of the General's hand, and the voluntary betrayal of his
+line of defence. He filed away the note among the papers relating to the
+case, took his hat, walked across the street, rang the bell, and sent up
+his card to Mr. Belcher. That self-complacent gentleman had not expected
+this visit, although he had suggested it. Instead, therefore, of
+inviting Mr. Balfour to his library, he went down to the drawing-room,
+where he found his visitor, quietly sitting with his hat in his hand.
+The most formal of courtesies opened the conversation, and Mr. Balfour
+stated his business at once. "You were kind enough to offer to show me
+the assignment of Mr. Benedict's patents," he said. "I have called to
+see it."
+
+"I've changed my mind," said the General.
+
+"Do you suspect me of wishing to steal it?" inquired Mr. Balfour.
+
+"No, but the fact is, I wrote my note to you without consulting my
+lawyer."
+
+"I thought so," said Mr. Balfour. "Good-day, sir."
+
+"No offence, I hope," said Mr. Belcher, with a peculiar toss of the
+head, and a laugh.
+
+"Not the least," said the lawyer, passing out of the door.
+
+The General felt that he had made a mistake. He was in the habit of
+making mistakes in those days. The habit was growing upon him. Indeed,
+he suspected that he had made a mistake in not boldly exhibiting his
+assignment. How to manage a lie, and not be managed by it, was a
+question that had puzzled wiser heads than that of the General. He found
+an egg in his possession that he was not ready to eat, though it was too
+hot to be held long in either hand, and could not be dropped without
+disaster.
+
+For a week, he was haunted with the expectation of a suit, but it was
+not brought, and then he began to breathe easier, and to feel that
+something must be done to divert his mind from the subject. He drank
+freely, and was loud-mouthed and blustering on the street. Poor Talbot
+had a hard time, in endeavoring to shield him from his imprudences. He
+saw that his effort to make his principal "last" was not likely to be
+successful.
+
+Rallied by his "friends" on his ill luck, the General declared that he
+only speculated for fun. He knew what he was about. He never risked any
+money that he could not afford to lose. Everybody had his amusement,
+and this was his.
+
+He was secure for some months in his seat as President of the Crooked
+Valley Railroad, and calculated, of course, on buying back his stock in
+his own time, at his own price. In the meantime, he would use his
+position for carrying on his private schemes.
+
+The time came at last when he wanted more ready money. A grand
+combination had been made, among his own unprincipled set, for working
+up a "corner" in the Muscogee Air Line, and he had been invited into it.
+He was flattered by the invitation, and saw in it a chance for redeeming
+his position, though, at bottom, the scheme was one for working up a
+corner in Robert Belcher.
+
+Under the plea that he expected, at no distant day, to go to Europe, for
+rest and amusement, he mortgaged his house, in order, as he declared,
+that he might handle it the more easily in the market. But Wall street
+knew the fact at once, and made its comments. Much to the proprietor's
+disgust, it was deemed of sufficient importance to find mention in the
+daily press.
+
+But even the sum raised upon his house, united with that which he had
+received from unloading his Crooked Valley stock, was not sufficient to
+give him the preponderance in the grand combination which he desired.
+
+He still held a considerable sum in Crooked Valley bonds, for these were
+valuable. He had already used these as collaterals, in the borrowing of
+small sums at short time, to meet emergencies in his operations. It was
+known by money-lenders that he held them. Now the General was the
+manufacturer of these bonds. The books of the corporation were under his
+control, and he intended that they should remain so. It was very easy
+for him to make an over-issue, and hard for him to be detected in his
+fraud, by any one who would be dangerous to him. The temptation to make
+this issue was one which better men than he had yielded to in a weak
+moment, and, to the little conscience which he possessed, the requisite
+excuses were ready. He did not intend that any one should lose money by
+these bonds. He only proposed a temporary relief to himself. So he
+manufactured the bonds, and raised the money he wanted.
+
+Meantime, the members of the very combination in which he had engaged,
+having learned of his rascally operation with the stock, were secretly
+buying it back from the dupes along the road, at their own figures, with
+the purpose of ousting him from the management, and taking the road to
+themselves. Of this movement he did not learn, until it was too late to
+be of use to him.
+
+It was known, in advance, by the combination, that the working up of the
+corner in Muscogee Air Line would be a long operation. The stock had to
+be manipulated with great care, to avoid exciting a suspicion of the
+nature of the scheme, and the General had informed the holders of his
+notes that it might be necessary for him to renew them before he should
+realize from his operations. He had laid all his plans carefully, and
+looked forward with an interest which none but he and those of his kind
+could appreciate, to the excitements, intrigues, marches and
+counter-marches of the mischievous campaign.
+
+And then came down upon him the prosecution which he had so long
+dreaded, and for which he had made the only preparation consistent with
+his greedy designs. Ten thousand dollars of his ready money passed at
+once into the hands of Mr. Cavendish, and Mr. Cavendish was satisfied
+with the fee, whatever may have been his opinion of the case. After a
+last examination of his forged assignment, and the putting of Phipps to
+an exhaustive and satisfactory trial of his memory with relation to it,
+he passed it into the lawyer's hands, and went about his business with
+uncomfortable forebodings of the trial and its results.
+
+It was strange, even to him, at this point of his career, that he felt
+within himself no power to change his course. No one knew better than
+he, that there was money enough in Benedict's inventions for both
+inventor and manufacturer. No one knew better than he, that there was a
+prosperous course for himself inside the pale of equity and law, yet he
+found no motive to walk there. For the steps he had taken, there seemed
+no retreat. He must go on, on, to the end. The doors that led back to
+his old life had closed behind him. Those which opened before were not
+inviting, but he could not stand still. So he hardened his face, braced
+his nerves, stiffened his determination, and went on.
+
+Of course he passed a wretched summer. He had intended to get away for
+rest, or, rather, for an exhibition of himself and his equipage at
+Newport, or Saratoga, or Long Branch; but through all the burning days
+of the season he was obliged to remain in the city, while other men were
+away and off their guard, to watch his Wall street operations, and
+prepare for the _coup de grace_ by which he hoped to regain his lost
+treasure and his forfeited position. The legal trial that loomed up
+before him, among the clouds of autumn, could not be contemplated
+without a shiver, and a sinking of the heart. His preparations for it
+were very simple, as they mainly related to the establishment of the
+genuineness of his assignment.
+
+The months flew away more rapidly with the proprietor than with any of
+the other parties interested in the suit, and when, at last, only a
+fortnight was wanting to the time of the expected trial, Mr. Balfour
+wrote to Number Nine, ordering his family home, and requiring the
+presence of Mr. Benedict, Mrs. Dillingham, Harry and Jim.
+
+Just at this time, the General found himself in fresh difficulty. The
+corner in Muscogee Air Line, was as evasive as a huckleberry in a mouth
+bereft of its armament. Indeed, to use still further the homely but
+suggestive figure, the General found that his tongue was in more danger
+than his huckleberry. His notes, too, secured by fraudulent collaterals,
+were approaching a second and third maturity. He was without ready
+money for the re-purchase of his Crooked Valley stock, and had learned,
+in addition, that the stock had already changed hands, in the execution
+of a purpose which he more than suspected. Large purchases of material
+for the execution of heavy contracts in his manufactures had drained his
+ready resources, in the department of his regular business. He was
+getting short, and into a tight place. Still he was desperate, and
+determined to sacrifice nothing.
+
+Mr. Benedict and Jim, on their arrival in the city, took up their
+residence in Mrs. Dillingham's house, and the landlord of Number Nine
+spent several days in making the acquaintance of the city, under the
+guidance of his old companion, who was at home. Jim went through a great
+mental convulsion. At first, what seemed to him the magnitude of the
+life, enterprise and wealth of the city, depressed him. He declared that
+he "had ben growin' smaller an' smaller every minute" since he left
+Sevenoaks. "I felt as if I'd allers ben a fly, crawlin' 'round on the
+edge of a pudden," he said, when asked whether he enjoyed the city. But
+before the trial came on, he had fully recovered his old equanimity. The
+city grew smaller the more he explored it, until, when compared with the
+great woods, the lonely rivers, and the broad solitudes in which he had
+spent his life, it seemed like a toy; and the men who chaffered in the
+market, and the women who thronged the avenues, or drove in the park, or
+filled the places of amusement, came to look like children, engaged in
+frolicsome games. He felt that people who had so little room to breathe
+in must be small; and before the trial brought him into practical
+contact with them, he was himself again, and quite ready to meet them in
+any encounter which required courage or address.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+IN WHICH THE CASE OF "BENEDICT _VS._ BELCHER" FINDS ITSELF IN COURT, AN
+INTERESTING QUESTION OF IDENTITY IS SETTLED, AND A MYSTERIOUS
+DISAPPEARANCE TAKES PLACE.
+
+
+"OYEZ! _Oyez_! _All-persons-having-business-to-do-with-the
+-Circuit-Court-of-the-United-States-for-the-Southern-District-of
+-New-York,-draw-near,-give-your-attention,-and-you-shall-be-heard."_
+
+"That's the crier," whispered Mr. Benedict to Jim.
+
+"What's the matter of 'im?" inquired the latter.
+
+"That's the way they open the court."
+
+"Well, if he opens it with cryin', he'll have a tough time a shuttin' on
+it," responded Jim, in a whisper so loud that he attracted attention.
+
+There within the bar sat Mr. Balfour, calmly examining his papers. He
+looked up among the assembled jurors, witnesses and idlers, and beckoned
+Benedict to his side. There sat Robert Belcher with his counsel. The
+great rascal was flashily dressed, with a stupendous show of
+shirt-front, over which fell, down by the side of the diamond studs, a
+heavy gold chain. Brutality, vulgarity, self-assurance and an
+over-bearing will, all expressed themselves in his broad face, bold eyes
+and heavy chin. Mr. Cavendish, with his uneasy scalp, white hands, his
+scornful lips and his thin, twitching nostrils, looked the very
+impersonation of impatience and contempt. If the whole court-room had
+been thronged with vermin instead of human beings, among which he was
+obliged to sit, he could not have appeared more disgusted. Quite retired
+among the audience, and deeply veiled, sat Mrs. Dillingham. Mr. Belcher
+detected her, and, though he could not see her face, felt that he could
+not be mistaken as to her identity. Why was she there? Why, but to
+notice the progress and issue of the trial, in her anxiety for him? He
+was not glad to see her there.
+
+He beckoned for Phipps, who sat uneasily, with a scared look upon his
+face, among the crowd.
+
+"Is that Mrs. Dillingham?" he asked in a whisper.
+
+Phipps assured him that it was. Then Mr. Belcher wrote upon his card the
+words: "Do not, for my sake, remain in this room."
+
+"Give this to her," he said to his servant.
+
+The card was delivered, but the lady, quite to his surprise, did not
+stir. He thought of his little book, but it seemed impossible that his
+idol, who had so long been hidden from his sight and his knowledge,
+could betray him.
+
+A jury was empanneled, the case of Benedict _vs._ Belcher was called,
+and the counsel of both parties declared themselves ready for the trial.
+
+The suit was for damages, in the sum of half a million dollars, for the
+infringement of patents on machines, implements and processes, of which
+it was declared that the plaintiff was the first and only inventor. The
+answer to the complaint alleged the disappearance and death of Benedict,
+and declared the plaintiff to be an impostor, averred the assignment of
+all the patents in question to the defendant, and denied the profits.
+
+The judge, set somewhat deep in his shirt-collar, as if his head and his
+heart were near enough together to hold easy communication, watched the
+formal proceedings listlessly, out of a pair of pleasant eyes, and when
+they were completed, nodded to Mr. Balfour, in indication that he was
+ready to proceed.
+
+Mr. Balfour, gathering his papers before him, rose to make the opening
+for the prosecution.
+
+"May it please the Court," he said, "and gentlemen of the jury, I have
+to present to you a case, either issue of which it is not pleasant for
+me to contemplate. Either my client or the defendant will go out of this
+court, at the conclusion of this case, a blackened man; and, as I have a
+warm friendship for one of them, and bear no malice to the other, I am
+free to confess that, while I seek for justice, I shrink from the
+results of its vindication."
+
+Mr. Cavendish jumped up and interjected spitefully: "I beg the gentleman
+to spare us his hypothetical sentiment. It is superfluous, so far as my
+client is concerned, and offensive."
+
+Mr. Balfour waited calmly for the little explosion and the clearing away
+of the smoke, and then resumed. "I take no pleasure in making myself
+offensive to the defendant and his counsel," said he, "but, if I am
+interrupted, I shall be compelled to call things by their right names,
+and to do some thing more than hint at the real status of this case. I
+see other trials, in other courts, at the conclusion of this
+action,--other trials with graver issues. I could not look forward to
+them with any pleasure, without acknowledging myself to be a knave. I
+could not refrain from alluding to them, without convicting myself of
+carelessness and frivolity. Something more than money is involved in the
+issue of this action. Either the plaintiff or the defendant will go out
+of this court wrecked in character, blasted in reputation, utterly
+ruined. The terms of the bill and the answer determine this result."
+
+Mr. Cavendish sat through this exordium as if he sat on nettles, but
+wisely held his tongue, while the brazen-faced proprietor leaned
+carelessly over, and whispered to his counsel. Phipps, on his distant
+seat, grew white around the lips, and felt that he was on the verge of
+the most serious danger of his life.
+
+"The plaintiff, in this case," Mr. Balfour went on, "brings an action
+for damages for the infringement of various patent rights. I shall prove
+to you that these patents were issued to him, as the first and only
+inventor; that he has never assigned them to any one; that they have
+been used by the defendant for from seven to ten years, to his great
+profit; that he is using them still without a license, and without
+rendering a just consideration for them. I shall prove to you that the
+defendant gained his first possession of these inventions by a series of
+misrepresentations, false promises, oppressions and wrongs, and has used
+them without license in consequence of the weakness, illness, poverty
+and defencelessness of their rightful owner. I shall prove to you that
+their owner was driven to insanity by these perplexities and the
+persecutions of the defendant, and that even after he became insane, the
+defendant tried to secure the execution of the assignment which he had
+sought in vain during the sanity of the patentee.
+
+"I will not characterize by the name belonging to it the instrument
+which is to be presented in answer to the bill filed in this case,
+further than to say that it has no legal status whatsoever. It is the
+consummate fruit of a tree that was planted in fraud; and if I do not
+make it so to appear, before the case is finished, I will beg pardon of
+the court, of you, gentlemen of the jury, and especially of the
+defendant and his honorable counsel. First, therefore, I offer in
+evidence certified copies of the patents in question."
+
+Mr. Balfour read these documents, and they were examined both by Mr.
+Cavendish and the court.
+
+The name of Paul Benedict was then called, as the first witness.
+
+Mr. Benedict mounted the witness stand. He was pale and quiet, with a
+pink tinge on either cheek. He had the bearing and dress of a gentleman,
+and contrasted strangely with the coarse, bold man to whom he had been
+indebted for so many wrongs and indignities. He was at last in the place
+to which he had looked forward with so much dread, but there came to him
+a calmness and a self-possession which he had not anticipated. He was
+surrounded by powerful friends. He was menaced, too, by powerful
+enemies, and all his manhood was roused.
+
+"What is your name?" asked Mr. Balfour.
+
+"Paul Benedict."
+
+"Where were you born?"
+
+"In the city of New York."
+
+"Are you the inventor of the machines, implements and processes named in
+the documents from the Patent Office which have just been read in your
+hearing?"
+
+"I am, sir."
+
+"And you are the only owner of all these patent rights?"
+
+"I am, sir."
+
+"What is your profession?"
+
+"I was trained for a mechanical engineer."
+
+"What has been your principal employment?"
+
+"Invention."
+
+"When you left New York, whither did you go?"
+
+"To Sevenoaks."
+
+"How many years ago was that?"
+
+"Eleven or twelve, I suppose."
+
+"Now I want you to tell to the Court, in a plain, brief way, the history
+of your life in Sevenoaks, giving with sufficient detail an account of
+all your dealings with the defendant in this case, so that we may
+perfectly understand how your inventions came into Mr. Belcher's hands,
+and why you have never derived any benefit from them."
+
+It was a curious illustration of the inventor's nature that, at this
+moment, with his enemy and tormentor before him, he shrank from giving
+pain. Mr. Cavendish noticed his hesitation, and was on his feet in an
+instant. "May it please the court," said he, "there is a question
+concerning identity that comes up at this point, and I beg the privilege
+of asking it here."
+
+The judge looked at Mr. Balfour, and the latter said: "Certainly."
+
+"I would like to ask the witness," said Mr. Cavendish, "whether he is
+the Paul Benedict who left the city about the time at which he testifies
+that he went away, in consequence of his connection with a band of
+counterfeiters. Did you, sir, invent their machinery, or did you not?"
+
+"I did not," answered the witness--his face all aflame. The idea that
+he could be suspected, or covertly charged, with crime, in the presence
+of friends and strangers, was so terrible that the man tottered on his
+feet.
+
+Mr. Cavendish gave a significant glance at his client, whose face
+bloomed with a brutal smile, and then sat down.
+
+"Is that all?" inquired Mr. Balfour.
+
+"All, for the present," responded Mr. Cavendish, sneeringly, and with
+mock courtesy.
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Balfour, "I hope I may be permitted
+to say that the tactics of the defendant are worthy of his cause." Then
+turning to Mr. Benedict, he said, "I trust the witness will not be
+disturbed by the insult that has been gratuitously offered him, and will
+tell the history which I have asked him to tell."
+
+Mr. Cavendish had made a mistake. At this insult, and the gratification
+which it afforded Mr. Belcher, the inventor's pity died out of him, and
+he hardened to his work.
+
+"When I went to Sevenoaks," said he, "I was very poor, as I have always
+been since. I visited Mr. Belcher's mill, and saw how great improvements
+could be made in his machines and processes; and then I visited him, and
+told him what I could do for him. He furnished me with money for my
+work, and for securing the patents on my inventions, with the verbal
+promise that I should share in such profits as might accrue from their
+use. He was the only man who had money; he was the only man who could
+use the inventions; and he kept me at work, until he had secured
+everything that he wished for. In the meantime, I suffered for the lack
+of the necessaries of life, and was fed from day to day, and month to
+month, and year to year, on promises. He never rendered me any returns,
+declared that the patents were nearly useless to him, and demanded, as a
+consideration for the money he had advanced to me, the assignment of all
+my patents to him. My only child was born in the midst of my early
+trouble, and such were the privations to which my wife was subjected
+that she never saw a day of health after the event. She died at last,
+and in the midst of my deepest troubles, Mr. Belcher pursued me with his
+demands for the assignment of my patents. He still held me to him by the
+bestowal of small sums, which necessity compelled me to accept. He
+always had a remarkable power over me, and I felt that he would lead me
+to destruction. I saw the hopes of years melting away, and knew that in
+time he would beat down my will, and, on his own terms, possess himself
+of all the results of my years of study and labor. I saw nothing but
+starvation before me and my child, and went down into a horror of great
+darkness."
+
+A cold shiver ran over the witness, and his face grew pale and pinched,
+at this passage of his story. The court-house was as still as midnight.
+Even the General lost his smile, and leaned forward, as if the narration
+concerned some monster other than himself.
+
+"What then?" inquired Mr. Balfour.
+
+"I hardly know. Everything that I remember after that was confused and
+terrible. For years I was insane. I went to the hospital, and was there
+supported by Mr. Belcher. He even followed me there, and endeavored to
+get my signature to an assignment, but was positively forbidden by the
+superintendent of the asylum. Then, after being pronounced incurable, I
+was sent back to the Sevenoaks alms-house, where, for a considerable
+time, my boy was also kept; and from that horrible place, by the aid of
+a friend, I escaped. I remember it all as a long dream of torture. My
+cure came in the woods, at Number Nine, where I have ever since lived,
+and where twice I have been sought and found by paid emissaries of Mr.
+Belcher, who did not love him well enough to betray me. And, thanks to
+the ministry of the best friends that God ever raised up to a man, I am
+here to-day to claim my rights."
+
+"These rights," said Mr. Balfour, "these rights which you hold in your
+patented inventions, for all these years used by the defendant, you say
+you have never assigned."
+
+"Never."
+
+"If an assignment executed in due form should be presented to you, what
+should you say?"
+
+"I object to the question," said Mr. Cavendish, leaping to his feet.
+"The document has not yet been presented to him."
+
+"The gentleman is right," said Mr. Balfour; "the witness has never seen
+it. I withdraw the question; and now tell me what you know about Mr.
+Belcher's profits on the use of these inventions."
+
+"I cannot tell much," replied Mr. Benedict. "I know the inventions were
+largely profitable to him; otherwise he would not have been so anxious
+to own them. I have never had access to his books, but I know he became
+rapidly rich on his manufactures, and that, by the cheapness with which
+he produced them, he was able to hold the market, and to force his
+competitors into bankruptcy."
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Balfour, "I am about done with this
+witness, and I wish to say, just here, that if the defendant stands by
+his pleadings, and denies his profits, I shall demand the production of
+his books in Court. We can get definite information from them, at
+least." Then bowing to Mr. Benedict, he told him that he had no further
+questions to ask.
+
+The witness was about to step down, when the Judge turned to Mr.
+Cavendish, with the question: "Does the counsel for the defendant wish
+to cross-examine the witness?"
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Cavendish rising, "the counsel for
+the defense regards the examination so far simply as a farce. We do not
+admit that the witness is Paul Benedict, at all--or, rather, the Paul
+Benedict named in the patents, certified copies of which are in
+evidence. The Paul Benedict therein named, has long been regarded as
+dead. This man has come and gone for months in Sevenoaks, among the
+neighbors of the real Paul Benedict, unrecognized. He says he has lived
+for years within forty miles of Sevenoaks, and at this late day puts
+forward his claims. There is nobody in Court, sir. We believe the
+plaintiff to be a fraud, and this prosecution a put-up job. In saying
+this, I would by no means impugn the honor of the plaintiff's counsel.
+Wiser men than he have been deceived and duped, and he may be assured
+that he is the victim of the villainies or the hallucinations of an
+impostor. There are men in this room, ready to testify in this case, who
+knew Paul Benedict during all his residence in Sevenoaks; and the
+witness stands before them at this moment unrecognized and unknown. I
+cannot cross-examine the witness, without recognizing his identity with
+the Paul Benedict named in the patents. There is nothing but a pretender
+in Court, may it please your honor, and I decline to have anything to do
+with him."
+
+Mr. Cavendish sat down, with the air of a man who believed he had
+blasted the case in the bud, and that there was nothing left to do but
+to adjourn.
+
+"It seems to the Court, gentlemen," said the judge in a quiet tone,
+"that this question of identity should be settled as an essential
+preliminary to further proceedings."
+
+"May it please your honor," said Mr. Balfour, rising, "I did not suppose
+it possible, after the plaintiff had actually appeared in court, and
+shown himself to the defendant, that this question of identity would be
+mooted or mentioned. The defendant must know that I have witnesses
+here--that I would not appear here without competent witnesses--who will
+place his identity beyond question. It seems, however, that this case is
+to be fought inch by inch, on every possible ground. As the first
+witness upon this point, I shall call for James Fenton."
+
+"Jest call me Jim," said the individual named, from his distant seat.
+
+"James Fenton" was called to the stand, and Mr. Benedict stepped down.
+Jim advanced through the crowd, his hair standing very straight in the
+air, and his face illumined by a smile that won every heart in the
+house, except those of the defendant and his counsel. A war-horse going
+into battle, or a hungry man going to his dinner, could not have
+manifested more rampant alacrity.
+
+"Hold up your right hand," said the clerk.
+
+"Sartin," said Jim. "Both on 'em if ye say so."
+
+"You solemnly swear m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-so help you God!"
+
+"I raally wish, if ye ain't too tired, that ye'd say that over agin,"
+said Jim. "If I'm a goin' to make a Happy David, I want to know what it
+is."
+
+The clerk hesitated, and the judge directed him to repeat the form of
+the oath distinctly. When this was done, Jim said: "Thank ye; there's
+nothin' like startin' squar."
+
+"James Fenton," said Mr. Balfour, beginning a question.
+
+"Jest call me Jim: I ain't no prouder here nor I be at Number Nine,"
+said the witness.
+
+"Very well, Jim," said Mr. Balfour smiling, "tell us who you are."
+
+"I'm Jim Fenton, as keeps a hotel at Number Nine. My father was an
+Englishman, my mother was a Scotchman, I was born in Ireland, an' raised
+in Canady, an' I've lived in Number Nine for more nor twelve year,
+huntin', trappin' an' keepin' a hotel. I hain't never ben eddicated, but
+I can tell the truth when it's necessary, an' I love my friends an' hate
+my enemies."
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Cavendish with a sneer, "I beg to
+suggest to the plaintiff's counsel that the witness should be required
+to give his religious views."
+
+Mr. Belcher laughed, and Mr. Cavendish sniffed his lips, as if they had
+said a good thing.
+
+"Certainly," responded Mr. Balfour. "What are your religious views,
+Jim?"
+
+"Well," said Jim, "I hain't got many, but I sh'd be s'prised if there
+wasn't a brimstone mine on t'other side, with a couple o' picks in it
+for old Belcher an' the man as helps 'im."
+
+The laugh was on Mr. Cavendish. The Court smiled, the audience roared,
+and order was demanded.
+
+"That will do," said Mr. Cavendish. "The religious views of the witness
+are definite and satisfactory."
+
+"Jim, do you know Paul Benedict?" inquired Mr. Balfour.
+
+"Well, I do," said Jim. "I've knowed 'im ever sence he come to
+Sevenoaks."
+
+"How did you make his acquaintance?"
+
+"He used to come into the woods, fishin' an' huntin'. Him an' me was
+like brothers. He was the curisest creetur I ever seen, an' I hope he
+takes no 'fense in hearin' me say so. Ye've seen his tackle, Mr.
+Balfour, an' that split bamboo o' his, but the jedge hasn't seen it. I
+wish I'd brung it along. Fond of fishin', sir?" And Jim turned blandly
+and patronizingly to the Court.
+
+The Judge could not repress a little ripple of amusement, which, from a
+benevolent mouth, ran out over his face. Biting his lips, he said: "The
+witness had better be confined to the matter in hand."
+
+"An' Jedge--no 'fense--but I like yer looks, an' if ye'll come to Number
+Nine--it's a little late now--I'll"--
+
+Mr. Cavendish jumped up and said fiercely: "I object to this trifling."
+
+"Jim," said Mr. Balfour, "the defendant's counsel objects to your
+trifling. He has a right to do so, particularly as he is responsible for
+starting it. Now tell me whether the Paul Benedict you knew was the only
+man of the name who has lived in Sevenoaks since you have lived in
+Number Nine?"
+
+"He was the only one I ever hearn on. He was the one as invented
+Belcher's machines, any way. He's talked about 'em with me a thousand
+times."
+
+"Is he in the room?"
+
+"Mostly," said Jim, with his bland smile.
+
+"Give me a direct answer, now."
+
+"Yis, he's in this room, and he's a settin' there by you, an' he's been
+a stannin' where I stan' now."
+
+"How do you know that this is the same man who used to visit you in the
+woods, and who invented Mr. Belcher's machines?"
+
+"Well, it's a long story. I don't mind tellin' on it, if it wouldn't be
+too triflin'," with a comical wink at Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"Go on and tell it," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"I knowed Benedict up to the time when he lost his mind, an' was packed
+off to the 'Sylum, an' I never seen 'im agin till I seen 'im in the
+Sevenoaks' poor-house. I come acrost his little boy one night on the
+hill, when I was a trampin' home. He hadn't nothin' on but rags, an' he
+was as blue an' hungry as a spring bar. The little feller teched me ye
+know--teched my feelins--an' I jest sot down to comfort 'im. He telled
+me his ma was dead, and that his pa was at old Buffum's, as crazy as a
+loon. Well, I stayed to old Buffum's that night, an' went into the
+poor-house in the mornin', with the doctor. I seen Benedict thar, an'
+knowed him. He was a lyin' on the straw, an' he hadn't cloes enough on
+'im to put in tea. An', says I, 'Mr. Benedict, give us your
+benediction;' an', says he, 'Jim!' That floored me, an' I jest cried and
+swar'd to myself. Well, I made a little 'rangement with him an' his boy,
+to take 'im to Abram's bosom. Ye see he thought he was in hell, an' it
+was a reasomble thing in 'im too; an' I telled 'im that I'd got a
+settlement in Abram's bosom, an' I axed 'im over to spend the day. I
+took 'im out of the poor-house an' carried 'im to Number Nine, an' I
+cured 'im. He's lived there ever sence, helped me build my hotel, an' I
+come down with 'im, to 'tend this Court, an' we brung his little boy
+along too, an' the little feller is here, an' knows him better nor I
+do."
+
+"And you declare, under oath, that the Paul Benedict whom you knew in
+Sevenoaks, and at Number Nine--before his insanity--the Paul Benedict
+who was in the poor-house at Sevenoaks and notoriously escaped from that
+institution--escaped by your help, has lived with you ever since, and
+has appeared here in Court this morning," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"He's the same feller, an' no mistake, if so be he hain't slipped his
+skin," said Jim, "an' no triflin'. I make my Happy David on't."
+
+"Did Mr. Belcher ever send into the woods to find him?'"
+
+"Yis," said Jim, laughing, "but I choked 'em off."
+
+"How did you choke them off?"
+
+"I telled 'em both I'd lick 'em if they ever blowed. They didn't want to
+blow any, to speak on, but Mike Conlin come in with a hundred dollars of
+Belcher's money in his jacket, an' helped me nuss my man for a week; an'
+I got a Happy David out o' Sam Yates, an' ther's the dockyment;" and Jim
+drew from his pocket the instrument with which the reader is already
+familiar.
+
+Mr. Balfour had seen the paper, and told Jim that it was not necessary
+in the case. Mr. Belcher looked very red in the face, and leaned over
+and whispered to his lawyer.
+
+"That is all," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+Mr. Cavendish rose. "You helped Mr. Benedict to escape, did you, Jim?"
+
+"I said so," replied Jim.
+
+"Did you steal the key when you were there first?"
+
+"No; I borrered it, an' brung it back an left it in the door."
+
+"Did you undo the fastenings of the outside door?"
+
+"Yis, an' I did 'em up agin."
+
+"Did you break down the grated door?"
+
+"I remember about somethin' squeakin' an' givin' 'way," replied Jim,
+with a smile. "It was purty dark, an' I couldn't see 'xactly what was a
+goin' on."
+
+"Oh you couldn't! We have your confession, then, that you are a thief
+and a burglar, and that you couldn't see the man you took out."
+
+"Well, now, Squar, that won't help ye any. Benedict is the man as got
+away, an' I saved the town the board of two paupers an' the cost of two
+pine coffins, an' sent old Buffum where he belonged, an' nobody cried
+but his pertickler friend as sets next to ye."
+
+"I beg the Court's protection for my client, against the insults of
+this witness," said Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"When a man calls Jim Fenton a thief an' a buggler, he must take what
+comes on't," said Jim. "Ye may thank yer everlastin' stars that ye
+didn't say that to me in the street, for I should 'a licked ye. I should
+'a fastened that slippery old scalp o' yourn tighter nor a drum-head."
+
+"Witness," said the Judge, peremptorily, "you forget where you are, sir.
+You must stop these remarks."
+
+"Jedge look 'ere! When a man is insulted by a lawyer in court, what can
+he do? I'm a reasomble man, but I can't take anybody's sarse. It does
+seem to me as if a lawyer as snubs a witness an calls 'im names, wants
+dressin' down too. Give Jim Fenton a fair shake, an' he's all right."
+
+Jim's genial nature and his irrepressible tongue were too much for the
+court and the lawyers together. Mr. Cavendish writhed in his seat. He
+could do nothing with Jim. He could neither scare nor control him, and
+saw that the witness was only anxious for another encounter. It was too
+evident that the sympathy of the jury and the increasing throng of
+spectators was with the witness, and that they took delight in the
+discomfiture of the defendant's counsel.
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Cavendish, "after the disgraceful
+confessions of the witness, and the revelation of his criminal
+character, it will not comport with my own self-respect to question him
+further."
+
+"Paddlin' off, eh?" said Jim, with a comical smile.
+
+"Witness," said the Judge, "be silent and step down."
+
+"No 'fense, Jedge, I hope?"
+
+"Step down, sir."
+
+Jim saw that matters were growing serious. He liked the Judge, and had
+intended, in some private way, to explain the condition of his hair as
+attributable to his fright on being called into Court as a witness, but
+he was obliged to relinquish his plan, and go back to his seat. The
+expression of his face must have been most agreeable to the spectators,
+for there was a universal giggle among them which called out the
+reproof of the Court.
+
+"Helen Dillingham" was next called for. At the pronunciation of her
+name, and her quiet progress through the court-room to the stand, there
+was a hush in which nothing was heard but the rustle of her own drapery.
+Mr. Belcher gasped, and grew pale. Here was the woman whom he madly
+loved. Here was the woman whom he had associated with his scheme of
+European life, and around whom, more and more, as his difficulties
+increased and the possibilities of disaster presented themselves, he had
+grouped his hopes and gathered his plans. Had he been the dupe of her
+cunning? Was he to be the object of her revenge? Was he to be betrayed?
+Her intimacy with Harry Benedict began to take on new significance. Her
+systematic repulses of his blind passion had an explanation other than
+that which he had given them. Mr. Belcher thought rapidly while the
+formalities which preceded her testimony were in progress.
+
+Every man in the court-room leaned eagerly forward to catch her first
+word. Her fine figure, graceful carriage and rich dress had made their
+usual impression.
+
+"Mrs. Dillingham," said the Judge, with a courteous bow and gesture,
+"will you have the kindness to remove your veil?"
+
+The veil was quietly raised over her hat, and she stood revealed. She
+was not pale; she was fresh from the woods, and in the glory of renewed
+health. A murmur of admiration went around the room like the stirring of
+leaves before a vagrant breeze.
+
+"Mrs. Dillingham," said Mr. Balfour, "where do you reside?"
+
+"In this city, sir."
+
+"Have you always lived here?"
+
+"Always."
+
+"Do you know Paul Benedict?"
+
+"I do, sir."
+
+"How long have you known him?"
+
+"From the time I was born until he left New York, after his marriage."
+
+"What is his relation to you?"
+
+"He is my brother, sir."
+
+Up to this answer, she had spoken quietly, and in a voice that could
+only be heard through the room by the closest attention; but the last
+answer was given in a full, emphatic tone.
+
+Mr. Belcher entirely lost his self-possession. His face grew white, his
+eyes were wild, and raising his clenched fist he brought it down with a
+powerful blow upon the table before him, and exclaimed: "My God!"
+
+The court-room became in an instant as silent as death. The Judge
+uttered no reprimand, but looked inquiringly, and with unfeigned
+astonishment, at the defendant.
+
+Mr. Cavendish rose and begged the Court to overlook his client's
+excitement, as he had evidently been taken off his guard.
+
+"Paul Benedict is your brother, you say?" resumed Mr. Balfour.
+
+"He is, sir."
+
+"What was his employment before he left New York?"
+
+"He was an inventor from his childhood, and received a careful education
+in accordance with his mechanical genius."
+
+"Why did he leave New York?"
+
+"I am ashamed to say that he left in consequence of my own unkindness."
+
+"What was the occasion of your unkindness?"
+
+"His marriage with one whom I did not regard as his own social equal or
+mine."
+
+"What was her name?"
+
+"Jane Kendrick."
+
+"How did you learn that he was alive?"
+
+"Through his son, whom I invited into my house, after he was brought to
+this city by yourself."
+
+"Have you recently visited the cemetery at Sevenoaks?"
+
+"I have, sir."
+
+"Did you see the grave of your sister-in-law?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"Was there a headstone upon the grave?"
+
+"There was a humble one."
+
+"What inscription did it bear?"
+
+"Jane Kendrick, wife of Paul Benedict."
+
+"When and where did you see your brother first, after your separation?"
+
+"Early last summer at a place called Number Nine."
+
+"Did you recognise him?"
+
+"I did, at once."
+
+"Has anything occurred, in the intercourse of the summer, to make you
+suspect that the man whom you recognised as your brother was an
+impostor?"
+
+"Nothing. We have conversed with perfect familiarity on a thousand
+events and circumstances of our early life. I know him to be my brother
+as well as I know my own name, and my own identity."
+
+"That is all," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"Mrs. Dillingham," said Mr. Cavendish after holding a long whispered
+conversation with his client, "you were glad to find your brother at
+last, were you not?"
+
+"Very glad, sir."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I was sorry for the misery which I had inflicted upon him, and
+to which I had exposed him."
+
+"You were the victim of remorse, as I understand you?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I suppose so."
+
+"Were you conscious that your condition of mind unfitted you to
+discriminate? Were you not so anxious to find your brother, in order to
+quiet your conscience, that you were easily imposed upon."
+
+"No, sir, to both questions."
+
+"Well, madam, such things have happened. Have you been in the habit of
+receiving Mr. Belcher at your house?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"You have been in the habit of receiving gentlemen rather
+indiscriminately at your house, haven't you?"
+
+"I object to the question," said Mr. Balfour quickly. "It carries a
+covert insult to the witness."
+
+Mrs. Dillingham bowed to Mr. Balfour in acknowledgment of his courtesy,
+but answered the question. "I have received you, sir, and Mr. Belcher. I
+may have been indiscriminate in my courtesies. A lady living alone
+cannot always tell."
+
+A titter ran around the court-room, in which Mr. Belcher joined. His
+admiration was too much at the moment for his self-interest.
+
+"Did you know before you went to Number Nine, that your brother was
+there?" inquired Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"I did, and the last time but one at which Mr. Belcher called upon me I
+informed him of the fact."
+
+"That your brother was there?"
+
+"No, that Paul Benedict was there."
+
+"How did you know he was there?"
+
+"His little boy wrote me from there, and told me so."
+
+Mr. Cavendish had found more than he sought. He wanted to harass the
+witness, but he had been withheld by his client. Baffled on one hand and
+restrained on the other--for Mr. Belcher could not give her up, and
+learn to hate her in a moment--he told the witness he had no more
+questions to ask.
+
+Mrs. Dillingham drew down her veil again, and walked to her seat.
+
+Harry Benedict was next called, and after giving satisfactory answers to
+questions concerning his understanding of the nature of an oath, was
+permitted to testify.
+
+"Harry," said Mr. Balfour, "were you ever in Mr. Belcher's house?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Tell us how it happened that you were there."
+
+"Mr. Belcher stopped me in the street, and led me up the steps, and then
+up stairs into his room."
+
+"What question did he ask you?"
+
+"He wanted to know whether my father was alive."
+
+"Did he offer you money if you would tell?"
+
+"Yes, sir; he offered me a great gold piece of money, and told me it was
+an eagle."
+
+"Did you take it?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Did he threaten you?"
+
+"He tried to scare me, sir."
+
+"Did he tell you that he should like to give your father some money?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And did you tell him that your father was alive?"
+
+"No, sir, I ran away;" and Harry could not restrain a laugh at the
+remembrance of the scene.
+
+"Harry, is your father in this room?"
+
+Harry looked at his father with a smile, and answered, "Yes, sir."
+
+"Now, Harry, I want you to pick him out from all these people. Be sure
+not to make any mistake. Mr. Belcher has been so anxious to find him,
+that I presume he will be very much obliged to you for the information.
+Go and put your hand on him."
+
+Harry started at a run, and, dodging around the end of the bar, threw
+himself into his father's arms. The performance seemed so comical to the
+lad, that he burst into a peal of boyish laughter, and the scene had
+such a pretty touch of nature in it, that the spectators cheered, and
+were only checked by the stern reprimand of the judge, who threatened
+the clearing of the room if such a demonstration should again be
+indulged in.
+
+"Does the counsel for the defence wish to cross-examine the witness?"
+inquired the judge.
+
+"I believe not," said Mr. Cavendish, with a nod; and then Harry went to
+his seat, at the side of Jim Fenton, who hugged him so that he almost
+screamed. "Ye're a brick, little feller," Jim whispered. "That was a
+Happy David, an' a Goliar into the bargin. You've knocked the Ph'listine
+this time higher nor a kite."
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Cavendish, "I have witnesses here
+who knew Paul Benedict during all his residence in Sevenoaks, and who
+are ready to testify that they do not know the person who presents
+himself here to-day, as the plaintiff in this case. I comprehend the
+disadvantage at which I stand, with only negative testimony at my
+command. I know how little value it has, when opposed to such as has
+been presented here; and while I am convinced that my client is wronged,
+I shall be compelled, in the end, to accept the identity of the
+plaintiff as established. If I believed the real Paul Benedict, named in
+the patents in question, in this case, to be alive, I should be
+compelled to fight this question to the end, by every means in my power,
+but the main question at issue, as to whom the title to these patents
+rests in, can be decided between my client and a man of straw, as well
+as between him and the real inventor. That is the first practical issue,
+and to save the time of the Court, I propose to proceed to its trial;
+and first I wish to cross-examine the plaintiff."
+
+Mr. Benedict resumed the stand.
+
+"Witness, you pretend to be the owner of the patents in question, in
+this case, and the inventor of the machines, implements and processes
+which they cover, do you?" said Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"I object to the form of the question," said Mr. Balfour. "It is an
+insult to the witness, and a reflection upon the gentleman's own
+sincerity, in accepting the identity of the plaintiff."
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Cavendish, "since the plaintiff's counsel is so
+difficult to please! You are the owner of these patents, are you?"
+
+"I am, sir."
+
+"You have been insane, have you sir?"
+
+"I suppose I have been, sir. I was very ill for a long time, and have no
+doubt that I suffered from mental alienation."
+
+"What is your memory of things that occurred immediately preceding your
+insanity?"
+
+Mr. Benedict and his counsel saw the bearings of this question, at once,
+but the witness would no more have lied than he would have stolen, or
+committed murder. So he answered: "It is very much confused, sir."
+
+"Oh, it is! I thought so! Then you cannot swear to the events
+immediately preceding your attack?"
+
+"I am afraid I cannot, sir, at least, not in their order or detail."
+
+"No! I thought so!" said Mr. Cavendish, in his contemptuous manner, and
+rasping voice. "I commend your prudence. Now, witness, if a number of
+your neighbors should assure you that, on the day before your attack,
+you did a certain thing, which you do not remember to have done, how
+should you regard their testimony?"
+
+"If they were credible people, and not unfriendly to me, I should be
+compelled to believe them."
+
+"Why, sir! you are an admirable witness! I did not anticipate such
+candor. We are getting at the matter bravely. We have your confession,
+then, that you do not remember distinctly the events that occurred the
+day before your attack, and your assertion that you are ready to believe
+and accept the testimony of credible witnesses in regard to those
+events."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Did you ever know Nicholas Johnson and James Ramsey?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where did you see them last?"
+
+"In Mr. Belcher's library."
+
+"On what occasion, or, rather, at what time?"
+
+"I have sad reason to remember both the occasion and the date, sir. Mr.
+Belcher had determined to get my signature to an assignment, and had
+brought me to his house on another pretext entirely. I suppose he had
+summoned these men as witnesses."
+
+"Where are these men now?"
+
+"Unhappily, they are both dead."
+
+"Yes, unhappily indeed--unhappily for my client. Was there anybody else
+in the room?"
+
+"I believe that Phipps, Mr. Belcher's man, was coming and going."
+
+"Why, your memory is excellent, is it not? And you remember the date of
+this event too! Suppose you tell us what it was."
+
+"It was the 4th of May, 1860."
+
+"How confused you must have been!" said Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"These are things that were burnt into my memory," responded the
+witness. "There were other occurrences that day, of which I have been
+informed, but of which I have no memory."
+
+"Ah, there are! Well, I shall have occasion to refresh your mind upon
+still another, before I get through with you. Now, if I should show you
+an assignment, signed by yourself on the very day you have designated,
+and also signed by Johnson, Ramsey and Phipps as witnesses, what should
+you say to it?"
+
+"I object to the question. The counsel should show the document to the
+witness, and then ask his opinion of it," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+The Court coincided with Mr. Balfour's view, and ruled accordingly.
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Cavendish, "we shall get at that in good time.
+Now, witness, will you be kind enough to tell me how you remember that
+all this occurred on the 4th of May, 1860?"
+
+"It happened to be the first anniversary of my wife's death. I went
+from her grave to Mr. Belcher's house. The day was associated with the
+saddest and most precious memories of my life."
+
+"What an excellent memory!" said Mr. Cavendish; rubbing his white hands
+together. "Are you familiar with the signatures of Nicholas Johnson and
+James Ramsey?"
+
+"I have seen them many times."
+
+"Would you recognize them, if I were to show them to you?"
+
+"I don't know sir."
+
+"Oh! your memory begins to fail now, does it? How is it that you cannot
+remember things with which you were familiar during a series of years,
+when you were perfectly sane, and yet can remember things so well that
+happened when your mind was confused?"
+
+Mr. Benedict's mind was getting confused again, and he began to stammer.
+Mr. Cavendish wondered that, in some way, Mr. Balfour did not come to
+the relief of his witness, but he sat perfectly quiet, and apparently
+unconcerned. Mr. Cavendish rummaged among his papers, and withdrew two
+letters. These he handed to the witness. "Now," said he, "will the
+witness examine these letters, and tell us whether he recognizes the
+signatures as genuine?"
+
+Mr. Benedict took the two letters, of which he had already heard through
+Sam Yates, and very carefully read them. His quick, mechanical eye
+measured the length and every peculiarity of the signatures. He spent so
+much time upon them that even the court grew impatient.
+
+"Take all the time you need, witness," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"All day, of course, if necessary," responded Mr. Cavendish raspingly.
+
+"I think these are genuine autograph letters, both of them," said Mr.
+Benedict.
+
+"Thank you: now please hand them back to me."
+
+"I have special reasons for requesting the Court to impound these
+letters," said Mr. Balfour. "They will be needed again in the case."
+
+"The witness will hand the letters to the clerk," said the judge.
+
+Mr. Cavendish was annoyed, but acquiesced gracefully. Then he took up
+the assignment, and said: "Witness, I hold in my hand a document signed,
+sealed and witnessed on the 4th day of May, 1860, by which Paul Benedict
+conveys to Robert Belcher his title to the patents, certified copies of
+which have been placed in evidence. I want you to examine carefully your
+own signature, and those of Johnson and Ramsey. Happily, one of the
+witnesses is still living, and is ready, not only to swear to his own
+signature, but to yours and to those of the other witnesses."
+
+Mr. Cavendish advanced, and handed Benedict the instrument. The inventor
+opened it, looked it hurriedly through, and then paused at the
+signatures. After examining them long, with naked eyes, he drew a glass
+from his pocket, and scrutinized them with a curious, absorbed look,
+forgetful, apparently, where he was.
+
+"Is the witness going to sleep?" inquired Mr. Cavendish; but he did not
+stir. Mr. Belcher drew a large handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped
+his red, perspiring face. It was an awful moment to him. Phipps, in his
+seat, was as pale as a ghost, and sat watching his master.
+
+At last Mr. Benedict looked up. He seemed as if he had been deprived of
+the power of speech. His face was full of pain and fright. "I do not
+know what to say to this," he said.
+
+"Oh, you don't! I thought you wouldn't! Still, we should like to know
+your opinion of the instrument," said Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"I don't think you would like to know it, sir," said Benedict, quietly.
+
+"What does the witness insinuate?" exclaimed the lawyer, jumping to his
+feet. "No insinuations, sir!"
+
+"Insinuations are very apt to breed insinuations," said the Judge,
+quietly. "The witness has manifested no disinclination to answer your
+direct questions."
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Cavendish. "Is your signature at the foot of that
+assignment?"
+
+"It is not, sir."
+
+"Perhaps those are not the signatures of the witnesses," said Mr.
+Cavendish, with an angry sneer.
+
+"Two of them, I have no doubt, are forgeries," responded Mr. Balfour,
+with an excited voice.
+
+Mr. Cavendish knew that it would do no good to manifest anger; so he
+laughed. Then he sat down by the side of Mr. Belcher, and said something
+to him, and they both laughed together.
+
+"That's all," he said, nodding to the witness.
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Balfour, "we got along so well with
+the question of identity that, with the leave of the defendant's
+counsel, I propose, in order to save the time of the Court, that we push
+our inquiries directly into the validity of this assignment. This is the
+essential question, and the defendant has only to establish the validity
+of the instrument to bring the case to an end at once. This done, the
+suit will be abandoned."
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Cavendish, rising. "I agree to the scheme with the
+single provision on behalf of the defendant, that he shall not be
+debarred from his pleading of a denial of profits, in any event."
+
+"Agreed," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Cavendish. "I shall call Cornelius Phipps, the
+only surviving witness of the assignment."
+
+But Cornelius Phipps did not appear when he was called. A second call
+produced the same result. He was not in the house. He was sought for in
+every possible retreat about the house, but could not be found.
+Cornelius Phipps had mysteriously disappeared.
+
+After consulting Mr. Belcher, Mr. Cavendish announced that the witness
+who had been called was essential at the present stage of the case. He
+thought it possible that in the long confinement of the court-room,
+Phipps had become suddenly ill, and gone home. He hoped, for the honor
+of the plaintiff in the case, that nothing worse had happened, and
+suggested that the Court adjourn until the following day.
+
+And the Court adjourned, amid tumultuous whispering. Mr. Belcher was
+apparently oblivious of the fact, and sat and stared, until touched upon
+the shoulder by his counsel, when he rose and walked out upon a world
+and into an atmosphere that had never before seemed so strange and
+unreal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+IN WHICH PHIPPS IS NOT TO BE FOUND, AND THE GENERAL IS CALLED UPON TO DO
+HIS OWN LYING.
+
+
+At the appointed hour on the following morning, the Court resumed its
+session. The plaintiff and defendant were both in their places, with
+their counsel, and the witnesses of the previous day were all in
+attendance. Among the little group of witnesses there were two or three
+new faces--a professional-looking gentleman with spectacles; a
+thin-faced, carefully-dressed, slender man, with a lordly air, and the
+bearing of one who carried the world upon his shoulders and did not
+regard it as much of a burden; and, last, our old friend Sam Yates.
+
+There was an appearance of perplexity and gloom on the countenances of
+Mr. Cavendish and his client. They were in serious conversation, and it
+was evident that they were in difficulty. Those who knew the occasion of
+the abrupt adjournment of the Court on the previous day looked in vain
+among the witnesses for the face of Phipps. He was not in the room, and,
+while few suspected the real state of the case, all understood how
+essential he was to the defendant, in his attempt to establish the
+genuineness of the assignment.
+
+At the opening of the Court, Mr. Cavendish rose to speak. His bold,
+sharp manner had disappeared. The instrument which he had expected to
+use had slipped hopelessly out of his hand. He was impotent. "May it
+please the Court," he said, "the defendant in this case finds himself in
+a very embarrassing position this morning. It was known yesterday that
+Cornelius Phipps, the only surviving witness of the assignment,
+mysteriously disappeared at the moment when his testimony was wanted.
+Why and how he disappeared, I cannot tell. He has not yet been found.
+All due diligence has been exercised to discover him, but without
+success. I make no charges of foul play, but it is impossible for me,
+knowing what I know about him--his irreproachable character, his
+faithfulness to my client, and his perfect memory of every event
+connected with the execution of the paper in question--to avoid the
+suspicion that he is by some means, and against his will, detained from
+appearing here this morning. I confess, sir, that I was not prepared for
+this. It is hard to believe that the plaintiff could adopt a measure so
+desperate as this for securing his ends, and I will not criminate him;
+but I protest that the condition in which the defendant is left by this
+defection, or this forcible detention--call it what you will--demands
+the most generous consideration, and compels me to ask the Court for
+suggestions as to the best course of proceeding. There are now but two
+men in Court who saw the paper executed, namely, the assignor and the
+assignee. The former has declared, with an effrontery which I have never
+seen equalled, that he never signed the document which so unmistakably
+bears his signature, and that the names of two of the witnesses are
+forgeries. I do not expect that, in a struggle like this, the testimony
+of the latter will be accepted, and I shall not stoop to ask it."
+
+Mr. Cavendish hesitated, looked appealingly at the Judge, and then
+slowly took his seat, when Mr. Balfour, without waiting for any
+suggestions from the Court, rose and said:
+
+"I appreciate the embarrassment of the defense, and am quite willing to
+do all I can to relieve it. His insinuations of foul dealing toward his
+witness are absurd, of course, and, to save any further trouble, I am
+willing to receive as a witness, in place of Mr. Phipps, Mr. Belcher
+himself, and to pledge myself to abide by what he establishes. I can do
+no more than this, I am sure, and now I challenge him to take the
+stand."
+
+The Judge watched the defendant and his counsel in their whispered
+consultation for a few minutes, and then said: "It seems to the Court
+that the defense can reasonably ask for nothing more than this."
+
+Mr. Belcher hesitated. He had not anticipated this turn of the case.
+There appeared to be no alternative, however, and, at last, he rose with
+a very red face, and walked to the witness-stand, placing himself just
+where Mr. Balfour wanted him--in a position to be cross-examined.
+
+It is useless to rehearse here the story which had been prepared for
+Phipps, and for which Phipps had been prepared. Mr. Belcher swore to all
+the signatures to the assignment, as having been executed in his
+presence, on the day corresponding with the date of the paper. He was
+permitted to enlarge upon all the circumstances of the occasion, and to
+surround the execution of the assignment with the most ingenious
+plausibilities. He told his story with a fine show of candor, and with
+great directness and clearness, and undoubtedly made a profound
+impression upon the Court and the jury. Then Mr. Cavendish passed him
+into the hands of Mr. Balfour.
+
+"Well, Mr. Belcher, you have told us a very straight story, but there
+are a few little matters which I would like to have explained," said Mr.
+Balfour. "Why, for instance, was your assignment placed on record only a
+few months ago?"
+
+"Because I was not a lawyer, sir," replied Mr. Belcher, delighted that
+the first answer was so easy and so plausible. "I was not aware that it
+was necessary, until so informed by Mr. Cavendish."
+
+"Was Mr. Benedict's insanity considered hopeless from the first?"
+
+"No," replied Mr. Belcher, cheerfully; "we were quite hopeful that we
+should bring him out of it."
+
+"He had lucid intervals, then."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Was that the reason why, the next day after the alleged assignment, you
+wrote him a letter, urging him to make the assignment, and offering him
+a royalty for the use of his patents?"
+
+"I never wrote any such letter, sir. I never sent him any such letter,
+sir."
+
+"You sent him to the asylum, did you?"
+
+"I co-operated with others, sir, and paid the bills," said Mr. Belcher,
+with emphasis.
+
+"Did you ever visit the asylum when he was there?"
+
+"I did, sir."
+
+"Did you apply to the superintendent for liberty to secure his signature
+to a paper?"
+
+"I do not remember that I did. It would have been an unnatural thing for
+me to do. If I did, it was a paper on some subordinate affair. It was
+some years ago, and the details of the visit did not impress themselves
+upon my memory."
+
+"How did you obtain the letters of Nicholas Johnson and James Ramsey? I
+ask this, because they are not addressed to you."
+
+"I procured them of Sam Yates, in anticipation of the trial now in
+progress here. The witnesses were dead, and I thought they would help me
+in establishing the genuineness of their signatures."
+
+"What reason had you to anticipate this trial?"
+
+"Well, sir, I am accustomed to providing for all contingencies. That is
+the way I was made, sir. It seemed to me quite probable that Benedict,
+if living, would forget what he had done before his insanity, and that,
+if he were dead, some friend of his boy would engage in the suit on his
+behalf. I procured the autographs after I saw his boy in your hands,
+sir."
+
+"So you had not seen these particular signatures at the time when the
+alleged assignment was made."
+
+"No, sir, I had not seen them."
+
+"And you simply procured them to use as a defense in a suit which seemed
+probable, or possible, and which now, indeed, is in progress of trial?"
+
+"That is about as clear a statement of the fact as I can make, sir;"
+and Mr. Belcher bowed and smiled.
+
+"I suppose, Mr. Belcher," said Mr. Balfour, "that it seems very strange
+to you that the plaintiff should have forgotten his signature."
+
+"Not at all, sir. On the contrary, I regard it as the most natural thing
+in the world. I should suppose that a man who had lost his mind once
+would naturally lose his memory of many things."
+
+"That certainly seems reasonable, but how is it that he does not
+recognize it, even if he does not remember the writing of it?"
+
+"I don't know; a man's signature changes with changing habits, I
+suppose," responded the witness.
+
+"You don't suppose that any genuine signature of yours could pass under
+your eye undetected, do you?" inquired Mr. Balfour.
+
+"No, sir, I don't. I'll be frank with you, sir."
+
+"Well, now, I'm going to test you. Perhaps other men, who have always
+been sane, do sometimes forget their own signatures."
+
+Mr. Balfour withdrew from his papers a note. Mr. Belcher saw it in the
+distance, and made up his mind that it was the note he had written to
+the lawyer before the beginning of the suit. The latter folded over the
+signature so that it might be shown to the witness, independent of the
+body of the letter, and then he stepped to him holding it in his hand,
+and asked him to declare it either a genuine signature or a forgery.
+
+"That's my sign manual, sir."
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"I know it, sir."
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Balfour, handing the letter to the clerk to be
+marked. "You are right, I have no doubt, and I believe this is all I
+want of you, for the present."
+
+"And now, may it please the Court," said Mr. Balfour, "I have some
+testimony to present in rebuttal of that of the defendant. I propose,
+practically, to finish up this case with it, and to show that the story
+to which you have listened is false in every particular.
+
+"First, I wish to present the testimony of Dr. Charles Barhydt." At the
+pronunciation of his name, the man in spectacles arose, and advanced to
+the witness-stand.
+
+"What is your name?" inquired Mr. Balfour.
+
+"Charles Barhydt."
+
+"What is your profession?"
+
+"I am a physician."
+
+"You have an official position, I believe."
+
+"Yes, sir; I have for fifteen years been the superintendent of the State
+Asylum for the insane."
+
+"Do you recognize the plaintiff in this case, as a former patient in the
+asylum?"
+
+"I do, sir."
+
+"Was he ever visited by the defendant while in your care?"
+
+"He was, sir."
+
+"Did the defendant endeavor to procure his signature to any document
+while he was in the asylum?"
+
+"He did, sir."
+
+"Did he apply to you for permission to get this signature, and did he
+importunately urge you to give him this permission?"
+
+"He did, sir."
+
+"Did you read this document?"
+
+"I did, sir."
+
+"Do you remember what it was?"
+
+"Perfectly, in a general way. It was an assignment of a number of patent
+rights and sundry machines, implements and processes."
+
+Mr. Balfour handed to the witness the assignment, and then said: "Be
+kind enough to look that through, and tell us whether you ever saw it
+before."
+
+After reading the document through, the Doctor said:
+
+"This is the identical paper which Mr. Belcher showed me or a very
+close copy of it. Several of the patents named here I remember
+distinctly, for I read the paper carefully, with a professional purpose.
+I was curious to know what had been the mental habits of my patient."
+
+"But you did not give the defendant liberty to procure the signature of
+the patentee?"
+
+"I did not. I refused to do so on the ground that he was not of sound
+mind--that he was not a responsible person."
+
+"When was this?"
+
+"I have no record of the date, but it was after the 12th of May,
+1860--the date of Mr. Benedict's admission to the asylum."
+
+"That is all," said Mr. Balfour. Mr. Cavendish tried to cross-examine,
+but without any result, except to emphasize the direct testimony, though
+he tried persistently to make the witness remember that, while Mr.
+Belcher might have shown him the assignment, and that he read it for the
+purpose which he had stated, it was another paper to which he had wished
+to secure the patient's signature.
+
+Samuel Yates was next called.
+
+"You are a member of our profession, I believe," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"I am, sir."
+
+"Have you ever been in the service of the defendant in this case?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What have you done for him?"
+
+"I worked many months in the endeavor to ascertain whether Paul Benedict
+was living or dead."
+
+"It isn't essential that we should go into that; and as the defendant
+has testified that he procured the autograph letters which are in the
+possession of the Court from you, I presume you will corroborate his
+testimony."
+
+"He did procure them of me, sir."
+
+"Did he inform you of the purpose to which he wished to put them?"
+
+"He did, sir. He said that he wished to verify some signatures."
+
+"Were you ever employed in his library at Sevenoaks, by his agent?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I wrote there for several weeks."
+
+"May it please the Court, I have a letter in my hand, the genuineness of
+whose signature has been recognized by the defendant, written by Robert
+Belcher to Paul Benedict, which, as it has a direct bearing upon the
+case, I beg the privilege of placing in evidence. It was written the
+next day after the date of the alleged assignment, and came inclosed
+from Benedict's hands to mine."
+
+Mr. Belcher evidently recalled the letter, for he sat limp in his chair,
+like a man stunned. A fierce quarrel then arose between the counsel
+concerning the admission of the letter. The Judge examined it, and said
+that he could see no reason why it should not be admitted. Then Mr.
+Balfour read the following note:
+
+"SEVENOAKS, May 5, 1860.
+
+"_Dear Benedict:_--I am glad to know that you are better. Since you
+distrust my pledge that I will give you a reasonable share of the
+profits on the use of your patents, I will go to your house this
+afternoon, with witnesses, and have an independent paper prepared, to be
+signed by myself, after the assignment is executed, which will give you
+a definite claim upon me for royalty. We will be there at four o'clock.
+
+"Yours, ROBERT BELCHER."
+
+"Mr. Yates," said Mr. Balfour, "have you ever seen this letter before?"
+
+Yates took the letter, looked it over, and then said: "I have, sir. I
+found the letter in a drawer of the library-table, in Mr. Belcher's
+house at Sevenoaks. I delivered it unopened to the man to whom it was
+addressed, leaving him to decide the question as to whether it belonged
+to him or the writer. I had no idea of its contents at the time, but
+became acquainted with them afterwards, for I was present at the opening
+of the letter."
+
+"That is all," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"So you stole this letter, did you?" inquired Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"I found it while in Mr. Belcher's service, and took it personally to
+the man to whom it was addressed, as he apparently had the best right to
+it. I am quite willing to return it to the writer, if it is decided that
+it belongs to him. I had no selfish end to serve in the affair."
+
+Here the Judge interposed. "The Court," said he, "finds this letter in
+the hands of the plaintiff, delivered by a man who at the time was in
+the employ of the defendant, and had the contents of the room in his
+keeping. The paper has a direct bearing on the case, and the Court will
+not go back of the facts stated."
+
+Mr. Cavendish sat down and consulted his client. Mr. Belcher was afraid
+of Yates. The witness not only knew too much concerning his original
+intentions, but he was a lawyer who, if questioned too closely and
+saucily, would certainly manage to bring in facts to his disadvantage.
+Yates had already damaged him sadly, and Mr. Belcher felt that it would
+not do to provoke a re-direct examination. So, after a whispered
+colloquy with his counsel, the latter told the witness that he was done
+with him. Then Mr. Belcher and his counsel conversed again for some
+time, when Mr. Balfour rose and said, addressing the Court:
+
+"The defendant and his counsel evidently need time for consultation,
+and, as there is a little preliminary work to be done before I present
+another witness, I suggest that the Court take a recess of an hour. In
+the meantime, I wish to secure photographic copies of the signatures of
+the two autograph letters, and of the four signatures of the assignment.
+I ask the Court to place these documents in the keeping of an officer,
+to be used for this purpose, in an adjoining room, where I have caused a
+photographic apparatus to be placed, and where a skillful operator is
+now in waiting. I ask this privilege, as it is essential to a perfect
+demonstration of the character of the document on which the decision of
+this case must turn."
+
+The Judge acceded to Mr. Balfour's request, both in regard to the recess
+and the use of the paper, and the assembly broke up into little knots of
+earnest talkers, most of whom manifested no desire to leave the
+building.
+
+Mr. Cavendish approached Mr. Balfour, and asked for a private interview.
+When they had retired to a lobby, he said: "You are not to take any
+advantage of this conversation. I wish to talk in confidence."
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"My client," said Cavendish, "is in a devilish bad box. His principal
+witness has run away, his old friends all turn against him, and
+circumstantial evidence doesn't befriend him. I have advised him to stop
+this suit right here, and make a compromise. No one wants to kill the
+General. He's a sharp man, but he is good-natured, and a useful citizen.
+He can handle these patents better than Benedict can, and make money
+enough for both of them. What could Benedict do if he had the patents in
+his hands? He's a simpleton. He's a nobody. Any man capable of carrying
+on his business would cheat him out of his eye-teeth."
+
+"I am carrying on his business, myself, just at this time," remarked Mr.
+Balfour, seriously.
+
+"That's all right, of course; but you know that you and I can settle
+this business better for these men than they can settle it for
+themselves."
+
+"I'll be frank with you," said Mr. Balfour. "I am not one who regards
+Robert Belcher as a good-natured man and a useful citizen, and I, for
+one--to use your own phrase--want to kill him. He has preyed upon the
+public for ten years, and I owe a duty not only to my client but to
+society I understand how good a bargain I could make with him at this
+point, but I will make no bargain with him. He is an unmitigated
+scoundrel, and he will only go out of this Court to be arrested for
+crime; and I do not expect to drop him until I drop him into a
+Penitentiary, where he can reflect upon his forgeries at leisure."
+
+"Then you refuse any sort of a compromise."
+
+"My dear sir," said Mr. Balfour, warmly, "do you suppose I can give a
+man a right to talk of terms who is in my hands? Do you suppose I can
+compromise with crime? You know I can't."
+
+"Very well--let it go. I suppose I must go through with it. You
+understand that this conversation is confidential."
+
+"I do: and you?"
+
+"Oh, certainly!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+IN WHICH A HEAVENLY WITNESS APPEARS WHO CANNOT BE CROSS-EXAMINED, AND
+BEFORE WHICH THE DEFENSE UTTERLY BREAKS DOWN.
+
+
+At the re-assembling of the Court, a large crowd had come in. Those who
+had heard the request of Mr. Balfour had reported what was going on,
+and, as the promised testimony seemed to involve some curious features,
+the court-room presented the most crowded appearance that it had worn
+since the beginning of the trial.
+
+Mr. Belcher had grown old during the hour. His consciousness of guilt,
+his fear of exposure, the threatened loss of his fortune, and the
+apprehension of a retribution of disgrace were sapping his vital forces,
+minute by minute. All the instruments that he had tried to use for his
+own base purposes were turned against himself. The great world that had
+glittered around the successful man was growing dark, and, what was
+worse, there were none to pity him. He had lived for himself; and now,
+in his hour of trouble, no one was true to him, no one loved him--not
+even his wife and children!
+
+He gave a helpless, hopeless sigh, as Mr. Balfour called to the witness
+stand Prof. Albert Timms.
+
+Prof. Timms was the man already described among the three new witnesses,
+as the one who seemed to be conscious of bearing the world upon his
+shoulders, and to find it so inconsiderable a burden. He advanced to the
+stand with the air of one who had no stake in the contest. His
+impartiality came from indifference. He had an opportunity to show his
+knowledge and his skill, and he delighted in it.
+
+"What is your name, witness?" inquired Mr. Balfour.
+
+"Albert Timms, at your service."
+
+"What is your calling, sir?"
+
+"I have at present the charge of a department in the School of Mines. My
+specialties are chemistry and microscopy."
+
+"You are specially acquainted with these branches of natural science,
+then."
+
+"I am, sir."
+
+"Have you been regarded as an expert in the detection of forgery?"
+
+"I have been called as such in many cases of the kind, sir."
+
+"Then you have had a good deal of experience in such things, and in the
+various tests by which such matters are determined?"
+
+"I have, sir."
+
+"Have you examined the assignment and the autograph letters which have
+been in your hands during the recess of the Court?"
+
+"I have, sir."
+
+"Do you know either the plaintiff or the defendant in this case?"
+
+"I do not, sir. I never saw either of them until to-day."
+
+"Has any one told you about the nature of these papers, so as to
+prejudice your mind in regard to any of them?"
+
+"No, sir. I have not exchanged a word with any one in regard to them."
+
+"What is your opinion of the two letters?"
+
+"That they are veritable autographs."
+
+"How do you judge this?"
+
+"From the harmony of the signatures with the text of the body of the
+letters, by the free and natural shaping and interflowing of the lines,
+and by a general impression of truthfulness which it is very difficult
+to communicate in words."
+
+"What do you think of the signatures to the assignment?"
+
+"I think they are all counterfeits but one."
+
+"Prof. Timms, this is a serious matter. You should be very sure of the
+truth of a statement like this. You say you think they are counterfeits:
+why?"
+
+"If the papers can be handed to me," said the witness, "I will show what
+leads me to think so."
+
+The papers were handed to him, and, placing the letters on the bar on
+which he had been leaning, he drew from his pocket a little rule, and
+laid it lengthwise along the signature of Nicholas Johnson. Having
+recorded the measurement, he next took the corresponding name on the
+assignment.
+
+"I find the name of Nicholas Johnson of exactly the same length on the
+assignment that it occupies on the letter," said he.
+
+"Is that a suspicious circumstance?"
+
+"It is, and, moreover," (going on with his measurements) "there is not
+the slightest variation between the two signatures in the length of a
+letter. Indeed, to the naked eye, one signature is the counterpart of
+the other, in every characteristic."
+
+"How do you determine, then, that it is anything but a genuine
+signature?"
+
+"The imitation is too nearly perfect."
+
+"How can that be?"
+
+"Well; no man writes his signature twice alike. There is not one chance
+in a million that he will do so, without definitely attempting to do so,
+and then he will be obliged to use certain appliances to guide him."
+
+"Now will you apply the same test to the other signature?"
+
+Prof. Timms went carefully to work again with his measure. He examined
+the form of every letter in detail, and compared it with its twin, and
+declared, at the close of his examination, that he found the second name
+as close a counterfeit as the first.
+
+"Both names on the assignment, then, are exact fac-similes of the names
+on the autograph letters," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"They are, indeed, sir--quite wonderful reproductions."
+
+"The work must have been done, then, by a very skillful man," said Mr.
+Balfour.
+
+The professor shook his head pityingly. "Oh, no, sir," he said. "None
+but bunglers ever undertake a job like this. Here, sir, are two forged
+signatures. If one genuine signature, standing alone, has one chance in
+a million of being exactly like any previous signature of the writer,
+two standing together have not one chance in ten millions of being exact
+fac-similes of two others brought together by chance.
+
+"How were these fac-similes produced?" inquired Mr. Balfour.
+
+"They could only have been produced by tracing first with a pencil,
+directly over the signature to be counterfeited."
+
+"Well, this seems very reasonable, but have you any further tests?"
+
+"Under this magnifying glass," said the professor, pushing along his
+examination at the same time, "I see a marked difference between the
+signatures on the two papers, which is not apparent to the naked eye.
+The letters of the genuine autograph have smooth, unhesitating lines;
+those of the counterfeits present certain minute irregularities that are
+inseparable from pains-taking and slow execution. Unless the Court and
+the jury are accustomed to the use of a glass, and to examinations of
+this particular character, they will hardly be able to see just what I
+describe, but I have an experiment which will convince them that I am
+right."
+
+"Can you perform this experiment here, and now?"
+
+"I can, sir, provided the Court will permit me to establish the
+necessary conditions. I must darken the room, and as I notice that the
+windows are all furnished with shutters, the matter may be very quickly
+and easily accomplished."
+
+"Will you describe the nature of your experiment?"
+
+"Well, sir, during the recess of the Court, I have had photographed upon
+glass all the signatures. These, with the aid of a solar microscope, I
+can project upon the wall behind the jury, immensely enlarged, so that
+the peculiarities I have described may be detected by every eye in the
+house, with others, probably, if the sun remains bright and strong, that
+I have not alluded to."
+
+"The experiment will be permitted," said the judge, "and the officers
+and the janitor will give the Professor all the assistance he needs."
+
+Gradually, as the shutters were closed, the room grew dark, and the
+faces of Judge, Jury and the anxious-looking parties within the bar grew
+weird and wan among the shadows. A strange silence and awe descended
+upon the crowd. The great sun in heaven was summoned as a witness, and
+the sun would not lie. A voice was to speak to them from a hundred
+millions of miles away--a hundred millions of miles near the realm
+toward which men looked when they dreamed of the Great White Throne.
+
+They felt as a man might feel, were he conscious, in the darkness of the
+tomb, when waiting for the trump of the resurrection and the breaking of
+the everlasting day. Men heard their own hearts beat, like the tramp of
+trooping hosts; yet there was one man who was glad of the darkness. To
+him the judgment day had come; and the closing shutters were the rocks
+that covered him. He could see and not be seen. He could behold his own
+shame and not be conscious that five hundred eyes were upon him.
+
+All attention was turned to the single pair of shutters not entirely
+closed. Outside of these, the professor had established his heliostat,
+and then gradually, by the aid of drapery, he narrowed down the entrance
+of light to a little aperture where a single silver bar entered and
+pierced the darkness like a spear. Then this was closed by the insertion
+of his microscope, and, leaving his apparatus in the hands of an
+assistant, he felt his way back to his old position.
+
+"May it please the Court, I am ready for the experiment," he said.
+
+"The witness will proceed," said the judge.
+
+"There will soon appear upon the wall, above the heads of the Jury,"
+said Prof. Timms, "the genuine signature of Nicholas Johnson, as it has
+been photographed from the autograph letter. I wish the Judge and Jury
+to notice two things in this signature--the cleanly-cut edges of the
+letters, and the two lines of indentation produced by the two prongs of
+the pen, in its down-stroke. They will also notice that, in the
+up-stroke of the pen, there is no evidence of indentation whatever. At
+the point where the up-stroke begins, and the down-stroke ends, the
+lines of indentation will come together and cease."
+
+As he spoke the last word, the name swept through the darkness over an
+unseen track, and appeared upon the wall, within a halo of amber light.
+All eyes saw it, and all found the characteristics that had been
+predicted. The professor said not a word. There was not a whisper in the
+room. When a long minute had passed, the light was shut off.
+
+"Now," said the professor, "I will show you in the same place, the name
+of Nicholas Johnson, as it has been photographed from the signatures to
+the assignment. What I wish you to notice particularly in this signature
+is, first, the rough and irregular edges of the lines which constitute
+the letters. They will be so much magnified as to present very much the
+appearance of a Virginia fence. Second, another peculiarity which ought
+to be shown in the experiment--one which has a decided bearing upon the
+character of the signature. If the light continues strong, you will be
+able to detect it. The lines of indentation made by the two prongs of
+the pen will be evident, as in the real signature. I shall be
+disappointed if there do not also appear a third line, formed by the
+pencil which originally traced the letters, and this line will not only
+accompany, in an irregular way, crossing from side to side, the two
+indentations of the down-strokes of the pen, but it will accompany
+irregularly the hair-lines. I speak of this latter peculiarity with some
+doubt, as the instrument I use is not the best which science now has at
+its command for this purpose, though competent under perfect
+conditions."
+
+He paused, and then the forged signatures appeared upon the wall. There
+was a universal burst of admiration, and then all grew still--as if
+those who had given way to their feelings were suddenly stricken with
+the consciousness that they were witnessing a drama in which divine
+forces were playing a part. There were the ragged, jagged edges of the
+letters; there was the supplementary line, traceable in every part of
+them. There was man's lie--revealed, defined, convicted by God's truth!
+
+The letters lingered, and the room seemed almost sensibly to sink in the
+awful silence. Then the stillness was broken by a deep voice. What lips
+it came from, no one knew, for all the borders of the room were as dark
+as night. It seemed, as it echoed from side to side, to come from every
+part of the house: "_Mene, mene, tekel upharsin!_" Such was the effect
+of these words upon the eager and excited, yet thoroughly solemnized
+crowd, that when the shutters were thrown open, they would hardly have
+been surprised to see the bar covered with golden goblets and bowls of
+wassail, surrounded by lordly revellers and half-nude women, with the
+stricken Belshazzar at the head of the feast. Certainly Belshazzar, on
+his night of doom, could hardly have presented a more pitiful front than
+Robert Belcher, as all eyes were turned upon him. His face was haggard,
+his chin had dropped upon his breast, and he reclined in his chair like
+one on whom the plague had laid its withering hand.
+
+There stood Prof. Timms in his triumph. His experiment had proved to be
+a brilliant success, and that was all he cared for.
+
+"You have not shown us the other signatures," said Mr. Balfour.
+
+"False in one thing, false in all," responded the professor, shrugging
+his shoulders. "I can show you the others; they would be like this; you
+would throw away your time."
+
+Mr. Cavendish did not look at the witness, but pretended to write.
+
+"Does the counsel for the defense wish to question the witness?"
+inquired Mr. Balfour, turning to him.
+
+"No," very sharply.
+
+"You can step down," said Mr. Balfour. As the witness passed him, he
+quietly grasped his hand and thanked him. A poorly suppressed cheer ran
+around the court-room as he resumed his seat. Jim Fenton, who had never
+before witnessed an experiment like that which, in the professor's
+hands, had been so successful, was anxious to make some personal
+demonstration of his admiration. Restrained from this by his
+surroundings, he leaned over and whispered: "Perfessor, you've did a big
+thing, but it's the fust time I ever knowed any good to come from
+peekin' through a key-hole."
+
+"Thank you," and the professor nodded sidewise, evidently desirous of
+shutting Jim off, but the latter wanted further conversation.
+
+"Was it you that said it was mean to tickle yer parson?" inquired Jim.
+
+"What?" said the astonished professor, looking round in spite of
+himself.
+
+"Didn't you say it was mean to tickle yer parson? It sounded more like a
+furriner," said Jim.
+
+When the professor realized the meaning that had been attached by Jim to
+the "original Hebrew," he was taken with what seemed to be a nasal
+hemorrhage that called for his immediate retirement from the court-room.
+
+What was to be done next? All eyes were turned upon the counsel who were
+in earnest conversation. Too evidently the defense had broken down
+utterly. Mr. Cavendish was angry, and Mr. Belcher sat beside him like a
+man who expected every moment to be smitten in the face, and who would
+not be able to resent the blow.
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Cavendish, "it is impossible, of
+course, for counsel to know what impression this testimony has made upon
+the Court and the jury. Dr. Barhydt, after a lapse of years, and
+dealings with thousands of patients, comes here and testifies to an
+occurrence which my client's testimony makes impossible; a sneak
+discovers a letter which may have been written on the third or the fifth
+of May, 1860--it is very easy to make a mistake in the figure, and this
+stolen letter, never legitimately delivered,--possibly never intended to
+be delivered under any circumstances--is produced here in evidence; and,
+to crown all, we have had the spectacular drama in a single act by a man
+who has appealed to the imaginations of us all, and who, by his skill in
+the management of an experiment with which none of us are familiar, has
+found it easy to make a falsehood appear like the truth. The counsel for
+the plaintiff has been pleased to consider the establishment or the
+breaking down of the assignment as the practical question at issue. I
+cannot so regard it. The question is, whether my client is to be
+deprived of the fruits of long years of enterprise, economy and
+industry; for it is to be remembered that, by the plaintiff's own
+showing, the defendant was a rich man when he first knew him. I deny the
+profits from the use of the plaintiff's patented inventions, and call
+upon him to prove them. I not only call upon him to prove them, but I
+defy him to prove them. It will take something more than superannuated
+doctors, stolen letters and the performances of a mountebank to do
+this."
+
+This speech, delivered with a sort of frenzied bravado, had a wonderful
+effect upon Mr. Belcher. He straightened in his chair, and assumed his
+old air of self-assurance. He could sympathize in any game of "bluff,"
+and when it came down to a square fight for money his old self came back
+to him. During the little speech of Mr. Cavendish, Mr. Balfour was
+writing, and when the former sat down, the latter rose, and, addressing
+the Court, said: "I hold in my hand a written notice, calling upon the
+defendant's counsel to produce in Court a little book in the possession
+of his client entitled 'Records of profits and investments of profits
+from manufactures under the Benedict patents,' and I hereby serve it
+upon him."
+
+Thus saying, he handed the letter to Mr. Cavendish, who received and
+read it.
+
+Mr. Cavendish consulted his client, and then rose and said: "May it
+please the Court, there is no such book in existence."
+
+"I happen to know," rejoined Mr. Balfour, "that there is such a book in
+existence, unless it has recently been destroyed. This I stand ready to
+prove by the testimony of Helen Dillingham, the sister of the
+plaintiff."
+
+"The witness can be called," said the judge.
+
+Mrs. Dillingham looked paler than on the day before, as she voluntarily
+lifted her veil, and advanced to the stand. She had dreaded the
+revelation of her own treachery toward the treacherous proprietor, but
+she had sat and heard him perjure himself, until her own act, which had
+been performed on behalf of justice, became one of which she could
+hardly be ashamed.
+
+"Mrs. Dillingham," said Mr. Balfour, "have you been on friendly terms
+with the defendant in this case?"
+
+"I have, sir," she answered. "He has been a frequent visitor at my
+house, and I have visited his family at his own."
+
+"Was he aware that the plaintiff was your brother?"
+
+"He was not."
+
+"Has he, from the first, made a confidant of you?"
+
+"In some things--yes."
+
+"Do you know Harry Benedict--the plaintiff's son?"
+
+"I do, sir."
+
+"How long have you known him?"
+
+"I made his acquaintance soon after he came to reside with you, sir, in
+the city."
+
+"Did you seek his acquaintance?"
+
+"I did, sir."
+
+"From what motive?"
+
+"Mr. Belcher wished me to do it, in order to ascertain of him whether
+his father were living or dead."
+
+"You did not then know that the lad was your nephew?"
+
+"I did not, sir.'
+
+"Have you ever told Mr. Belcher that your brother was alive?"
+
+"I told him that Paul Benedict was alive, at the last interview but one
+that I ever had with him."
+
+"Did he give you at this interview any reason for his great anxiety to
+ascertain the facts as to Mr. Benedict's life or death?"
+
+"He did, sir."
+
+"Was there any special occasion for the visit you allude to?"
+
+"I think there was, sir. He had just lost heavily in International Mail,
+and evidently came in to talk about business. At any rate, he did talk
+about it, as he had never done before."
+
+"Can you give us the drift or substance of his conversation and
+statements?"
+
+"Well, sir, he assured me that he had not been shaken by his losses,
+said that he kept his manufacturing business entirely separate from his
+speculations, gave me a history of the manner in which my brother's
+inventions had come into his hands, and, finally, showed me a little
+account book, in which he had recorded his profits from manufactures
+under what he called the Benedict Patents."
+
+"Did you read this book, Mrs. Dillingham?"
+
+"I did, sir."
+
+"Every word?"
+
+"Every word."
+
+"Did you hear me serve a notice on the defendant's counsel to produce
+this book in Court?"
+
+"I did, sir."
+
+"In that notice did I give the title of the book correctly?"
+
+"You did, sir."
+
+"Was this book left in your hands for a considerable length of time?"
+
+"It was, sir, for several hours."
+
+"Did you copy it?"
+
+"I did, sir, every word of it."
+
+"Are you sure that you made a correct copy?"
+
+"I verified it, sir, item by item, again and again."
+
+"Can you give me any proof corroborative of your statement that this
+book has been in your hands?"
+
+"I can, sir."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"A letter from Mr. Belcher, asking me to deliver the book to his man
+Phipps."
+
+"Is that the letter?" inquired Mr. Balfour, passing the note into her
+hands.
+
+"It is, sir."
+
+"May it please the Court," said Mr. Balfour, turning to the Judge, "the
+copy of this account-book is in my possession, and if the defendant
+persists in refusing to produce the original, I shall ask the privilege
+of placing it in evidence."
+
+During the examination of this witness, the defendant and his counsel
+sat like men overwhelmed. Mr. Cavendish was angry with his client, who
+did not even hear the curses which were whispered in his ear. The latter
+had lost not only his money, but the woman whom he loved. The
+perspiration stood in glistening beads upon his forehead. Once he put
+his head down upon the table before him, while his frame was convulsed
+with an uncontrollable passion. He held it there until Mr. Cavendish
+touched him, when he rose and staggered to a pitcher of iced water upon
+the bar, and drank a long draught. The exhibition of his pain was too
+terrible to excite in the beholders any emotion lighter than pity.
+
+The Judge looked at Mr. Cavendish who was talking angrily with his
+client. After waiting for a minute or two, he said: "Unless the original
+of this book be produced, the Court will be obliged to admit the copy.
+It was made by one who had it in custody from the owner's hands."
+
+"I was not aware," said Mr. Cavendish fiercely, "that a crushing
+conspiracy like this against my client could be carried on in any court
+of the United States, under judicial sanction."
+
+"The counsel must permit the Court," said the Judge calmly, "to remind
+him that it is so far generous toward his disappointment and discourtesy
+as to refrain from punishing him for contempt, and to warn him against
+any repetition of his offense."
+
+Mr. Cavendish sneered in the face of the Judge, but held his tongue,
+while Mr. Balfour presented and read the contents of the document. All
+of Mr. Belcher's property at Sevenoaks, his rifle manufactory, the goods
+in Talbot's hands, and sundry stocks and bonds came into the
+enumeration, with the enormous foreign deposit, which constituted the
+General's "anchor to windward." It was a handsome showing. Judge, jury
+and spectators were startled by it, and were helped to understand,
+better than they had previously done, the magnitude of the stake for
+which the defendant had played his desperate game, and the stupendous
+power of the temptation before which he had been led to sacrifice both
+his honor and his safety.
+
+Mr. Cavendish went over to Mr. Balfour, and they held a long
+conversation, _sotto voce_. Then Mrs. Dillingham was informed that she
+could step down, as she would not be wanted for cross-examination. Mr.
+Belcher had so persistently lied to his counsel, and his case had become
+so utterly hopeless, that even Cavendish practically gave it up.
+
+Mr. Balfour then addressed the Court, and said that it had been agreed
+between himself and Mr. Cavendish, in order to save the time of the
+Court, that the case should be given to the jury by the Judge, without
+presentation or argument of counsel.
+
+The Judge occupied a few minutes in recounting the evidence, and
+presenting the issue, and without leaving their seats the jury rendered
+a verdict for the whole amount of damages claimed.
+
+The bold, vain-glorious proprietor was a ruined man. The consciousness
+of power had vanished. The law had grappled with him, shaken him once,
+and dropped him. He had had a hint from his counsel of Mr. Balfour's
+intentions, and knew that the same antagonist would wait but a moment to
+pounce upon him again, and shake the life out of him. It was curious to
+see how, not only in his own consciousness, but in his appearance, he
+degenerated into a very vulgar sort of scoundrel. In leaving the
+Court-room, he skulked by the happy group that surrounded the inventor,
+not even daring to lift his eyes to Mrs. Dillingham. When he was rich
+and powerful, with such a place in society as riches and power
+commanded, he felt himself to be the equal of any woman; but he had been
+degraded and despoiled in the presence of his idol, and knew that he was
+measurelessly and hopelessly removed from her. He was glad to get away
+from the witnesses of his disgrace, and the moment he passed the door,
+he ran rapidly down the stairs, and emerged upon the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+WHEREIN MR. BELCHER, HAVING EXHIBITED HIS DIRTY RECORD, SHOWS A CLEAN
+PAIR OF HEELS.
+
+
+The first face that Mr. Belcher met upon leaving the Court-House was
+that of Mr. Talbot.
+
+"Get into my coupe," said Talbot. "I will take you home."
+
+Mr. Belcher got into the coupe quickly, as if he were hiding from some
+pursuing danger. "Home!" said he, huskily, and in a whimpering voice.
+"Home! Good God! I wish I knew where it was."
+
+"What's the matter, General? How has the case gone?"
+
+"Gone? Haven't you been in the house?"
+
+"No; how has it gone?"
+
+"Gone to hell," said Mr. Belcher, leaning over heavily upon Talbot, and
+whispering it in his ear.
+
+"Not so bad as that, I hope," said Talbot, pushing him off.
+
+"Toll," said the suffering man, "haven't I always used you well? You are
+not going to turn against the General? You've made a good thing out of
+him, Toll."
+
+"What's happened, General? Tell me."
+
+"Toll, you'll be shut up to-morrow. Play your cards right. Make friends
+with the mammon of unrighteousness."
+
+Talbot sat and thought very fast. He saw that there was serious trouble,
+and questioned whether he were not compromising himself. Still, the fact
+that the General had enriched him, determined him to stand by his old
+principal as far as he could, consistently with his own safety.
+
+"What can I do for you, General?" he said.
+
+"Get me out of the city. Get me off to Europe. You know I have funds
+there."
+
+"I'll do what I can, General."
+
+"You're a jewel, Toll."
+
+"By the way," said Talbot, "the Crooked Valley corporation held its
+annual meeting to-day. You are out, and they have a new deal."
+
+"They'll find out something to-morrow, Toll. It all comes together."
+
+When the coupe drove up at Palgrave's Folly, and the General alighted,
+he found one of his brokers on the steps, with a pale face. "What's the
+matter?" said Mr. Belcher.
+
+"The devil's to pay."
+
+"I'm glad of it," said he. "I hope you'll get it all out of him."
+
+"It's too late for joking," responded the man seriously. "We want to see
+you at once. You've been over-reached in this matter of the Air Line,
+and you've got some very ugly accounts to settle."
+
+"I'll be down to-morrow early," said the General.
+
+"We want to see you to-night," said the broker.
+
+"Very well, come here at nine o'clock."
+
+Then the broker went away, and Mr. Belcher and Mr. Talbot went in. They
+ascended to the library, and there, in a few minutes, arranged their
+plans. Mrs. Belcher was not to be informed of them, but was to be left
+to get the news of her husband's overthrow after his departure. "Sarah's
+been a good wife, Toll," he said, "but she was unequally yoked with an
+unbeliever and hasn't been happy for a good many years. I hope you'll
+look after her a little, Toll. Save something for her, if you can. Of
+course, she'll have to leave here, and it won't trouble her much."
+
+At this moment the merry voices of his children came through an opening
+door.
+
+The General gave a great gulp in the endeavor to swallow his emotion.
+After all, there was a tender spot in him.
+
+"Toll, shut the door; I can't stand that. Poor little devils! What's
+going to become of them?"
+
+The General was busy with his packing. In half an hour his arrangements
+were completed. Then Talbot went to one of the front rooms of the house,
+and, looking from the window, saw a man talking with the driver of his
+coupe. It was an officer. Mr. Belcher peeped through the curtain, and
+knew him. What was to be done? A plan of escape was immediately made and
+executed. There was a covered passage into the stable from the rear of
+the house, and through that both the proprietor and Talbot made their
+way. Now that Phipps had left him, Mr. Belcher had but a single servant
+who could drive. He was told to prepare the horses at once, and to make
+himself ready for service. After everything was done, but the opening of
+the doors, Talbot went back through the house, and, on appearing at the
+front door of the mansion, was met by the officer, who inquired for Mr.
+Belcher. Mr. Talbot let him in, calling for a servant at the same time,
+and went out and closed the door behind him.
+
+Simultaneously with this movement, the stable-doors flew open, and the
+horses sprang out upon the street, and were half a mile on their way to
+one of the upper ferries, leading to Jersey City, before the officer
+could get an answer to his inquiries for Mr. Belcher. Mr. Belcher had
+been there only five minutes before, but he had evidently gone out. He
+would certainly be back to dinner. So the officer waited until convinced
+that his bird had flown, and until the proprietor was across the river
+in search of a comfortable bed among the obscure hotels of the town.
+
+It had been arranged that Talbot should secure a state-room on the
+Aladdin to sail on the following day, and make an arrangement with the
+steward to admit Mr. Belcher to it on his arrival, and assist in keeping
+him from sight.
+
+Mr. Belcher sent back his carriage by the uppermost ferry, ate a
+wretched dinner, and threw himself upon his bed, where he tossed his
+feverish limbs until day-break. It was a night thronged with nervous
+fears. He knew that New York would resound with his name on the
+following day. Could he reach his state-room on the Aladdin without
+being discovered? He resolved to try it early the next morning, though
+he knew the steamer would not sail until noon. Accordingly, as the day
+began to break, he rose and looked out of his dingy window. The milk-men
+only were stirring. At the lower end of the street he could see masts,
+and the pipes of the great steamers, and a ferry-boat crossing to get
+its first batch of passengers for an early train. Then a wretched man
+walked under his window, looking for something,--hoping, after the
+accidents of the evening, to find money for his breakfast. Mr. Belcher
+dropped him a dollar, and the man looked up and said feebly: "May God
+bless you, sir!"
+
+This little benediction was received gratefully. It would do to start
+on. He felt his way down stairs, called for his reckoning, and when,
+after an uncomfortable and vexatious delay, he had found a sleepy,
+half-dressed man to receive his money, he went out upon the street,
+satchel in hand, and walked rapidly toward the slip where the Aladdin
+lay asleep.
+
+Talbot's money had done its work well, and the fugitive had only to make
+himself known to the officer in charge to secure an immediate entrance
+into the state-room that had been purchased for him. He shut to the door
+and locked it; then he took off his clothes and went to bed.
+
+Mr. Belcher's entrance upon the vessel had been observed by a policeman,
+but, though it was an unusual occurrence, the fact that he was received
+showed that he had been expected. As the policeman was soon relieved
+from duty, he gave the matter no farther thought, so that Mr. Belcher
+had practically made the passage from his library to his state-room
+unobserved.
+
+After the terrible excitements of the two preceding days, and the
+sleeplessness of the night, Mr. Belcher with the first sense of security
+fell into a heavy slumber. All through the morning there were officers
+on the vessel who knew that he was wanted, but his state-room had been
+engaged for an invalid lady, and the steward assured the officers that
+she was in the room, and was not to be disturbed.
+
+The first consciousness that came to the sleeper was with the first
+motion of the vessel as she pushed out from her dock. He rose and
+dressed, and found himself exceedingly hungry. There was nothing to do,
+however, but to wait. The steamer would go down so as to pass the bar at
+high tide, and lay to for the mails and the latest passengers, to be
+brought down the bay by a tug. He knew that he could not step from his
+hiding until the last policeman had left the vessel, with the casting
+off of its tender, and so sat and watched from the little port-hole
+which illuminated his room the panorama of the Jersey and the Staten
+Island shores.
+
+His hard, exciting life was retiring. He was leaving his foul
+reputation, his wife and children, his old pursuits and his fondly
+cherished idol behind him. He was leaving danger behind. He was leaving
+Sing Sing behind! He had all Europe, with plenty of money, before him.
+His spirits began to rise. He even took a look into his mirror, to be a
+witness of his own triumph.
+
+At four o'clock, after the steamer had lain at anchor for two or three
+hours, the tug arrived, and as his was the leeward side of the vessel,
+she unloaded her passengers upon the steamer where he could see them.
+There were no faces that he knew, and he was relieved. He heard a great
+deal of tramping about the decks, and through the cabin. Once, two men
+came into the little passage into which his door opened. He heard his
+name spoken, and the whispered assurance that his room was occupied by a
+sick woman; and then they went away.
+
+At last, the orders were given to cast off the tug. He saw the anxious
+looks of officers as they slid by his port-hole, and then he realized
+that he was free.
+
+The anchor was hoisted, the great engine lifted itself to its mighty
+task, and the voyage was begun. They had gone down a mile, perhaps,
+when Mr. Belcher came out of his state-room. Supper was not ready--would
+not be ready for an hour. He took a hurried survey of the passengers,
+none of whom he knew. They were evidently gentle-folk, mostly from
+inland cities, who were going to Europe for pleasure. He was glad to see
+that he attracted little attention. He sat down on deck, and took up a
+newspaper which a passenger had left behind him.
+
+The case of "Benedict _vs._ Belcher" absorbed three or four columns,
+besides a column of editorial comment, in which the General's character
+and his crime were painted with a free hand and in startling colors.
+Then, in the financial column, he found a record of the meeting of the
+Crooked Valley Corporation, to which was added the statement that
+suspicions were abroad that the retiring President had been guilty of
+criminal irregularities in connection with the bonds of the
+Company--irregularities which would immediately become a matter of
+official investigation. There was also an account of his operations in
+Muscogee Air Line, and a rumor that he had fled from the city, by some
+of the numerous out-going lines of steamers, and that steps had already
+been taken to head him off at every possible point of landing in this
+country and Europe.
+
+This last rumor was not calculated to increase his appetite, or restore
+his self-complacency and self-assurance. He looked all these accounts
+over a second time, in a cursory way, and was about to fold the paper,
+so as to hide or destroy it, when his eye fell upon a column of foreign
+despatches. He had never been greatly interested in this department of
+his newspaper, but now that he was on his way to Europe, they assumed a
+new significance; and, beginning at the top, he read them through. At
+the foot of the column, he read the words: "Heavy Failure of a Banking
+House;" and his attention was absorbed at once by the item which
+followed:
+
+"The House of Tempin Brothers, of Berlin, has gone down. The failure is
+said to be utterly disastrous, even the special deposits in the hands
+of the house having been used. The House was a favorite with Americans,
+and the failure will inevitably produce great distress among those who
+are traveling for pleasure. The house is said to have no assets, and the
+members are not to be found."
+
+Mr. Belcher's "Anchor to windward" had snapped its cable, and he was
+wildly afloat, with ruin behind him, and starvation or immediate arrest
+before. With curses on his white lips, and with a trembling hand, he cut
+out the item, walked to his state-room, and threw the record of his
+crime and shame out of the port-hole. Then, placing the little excerpt
+in the pocket of his waistcoat, he went on deck.
+
+There sat the happy passengers, wrapped in shawls, watching the setting
+sun, thinking of the friends and scenes they had left behind them, and
+dreaming of the unknown world that lay before. Three or four elderly
+gentlemen were gathered in a group, discussing Mr. Belcher himself; but
+none of them knew him. He had no part in the world of honor and of
+innocence in which all these lived. He was an outlaw. He groaned when
+the overwhelming consciousness of his disgrace came upon him--groaned to
+think that not one of all the pleasant people around could know him
+without shrinking from him as a monster.
+
+He was looking for some one. A sailor engaged in service passed near
+him. Stepping to his side, Mr. Belcher asked him to show him the
+captain. The man pointed to the bridge. "There's the Cap'n, sir--the man
+in the blue coat and brass buttons." Then he went along.
+
+Mr. Belcher immediately made his way to the bridge. He touched his hat
+to the gruff old officer, and begged his pardon for obtruding himself
+upon him, but he was in trouble, and wanted advice.
+
+"Very well, out with it: what's the matter?" said the Captain.
+
+Mr. Belcher drew out the little item he had saved, and said: "Captain, I
+have seen this bit of news for the first time since I started. This
+firm held all the money I have in the world. Is there any possible way
+for me to get back to my home?"
+
+"I don't know of any," said the captain.
+
+"But I must go back."
+
+"You'll have to swim for it, then."
+
+Mr. Belcher was just turning away in despair, with a thought of suicide
+in his mind, when the captain said: "There's Pilot-boat Number 10. She's
+coming round to get some papers. Perhaps I can get you aboard of her,
+but you are rather heavy for a jump."
+
+The wind was blowing briskly off shore, and the beautiful pilot-boat,
+with her wonderful spread of canvass, was cutting the water as a bird
+cleaves the air. She had been beating toward land, but, as she saw the
+steamer, she rounded to, gave way before the wind, worked toward the
+steamer's track on the windward side, and would soon run keel to keel
+with her.
+
+"Fetch your traps," said the captain. "I can get you on board, if you
+are in time."
+
+Mr. Belcher ran to his state-room, seized his valise, and was soon again
+on deck. The pilot-boat was within ten rods of the steamer, curving in
+gracefully toward the monster, and running like a race-horse. The
+Captain had a bundle of papers in his hand. He held them while Mr.
+Belcher went over the side of the vessel, down the ladder, and turned
+himself for his jump. There was peril in the venture, but desperation
+had strung his nerves. The captain shouted, and asked the bluff fellows
+on the little craft to do him the personal favor to take his passenger
+on shore, at their convenience. Then a sailor tossed them the valise,
+and the captain tossed them the papers. Close in came the little boat.
+It was almost under Mr. Belcher. "Jump!" shouted half a dozen voices
+together, and the heavy man lay sprawling upon the deck among the
+laughing crew. A shout and a clapping of hands was heard from the
+steamer, "Number 10" sheered off, and continued her cruise, and,
+stunned and bruised, the General crawled into the little cabin, where it
+took only ten minutes of the new motion to make him so sick that his
+hunger departed, and he was glad to lie where, during the week that he
+tossed about in the cruise for in-coming vessels, he would have been
+glad to die.
+
+One, two, three, four steamers were supplied with pilots, and an
+opportunity was given him on each occasion to go into port, but he would
+wait. He had told the story of his bankers, given a fictitious name to
+himself, and managed to win the good will of the simple men around him.
+His bottle of brandy and his box of cigars were at their service, and
+his dress was that of a gentleman. His natural drollery took on a very
+amusing form during his sickness, and the men found him a source of
+pleasure rather than an incumbrance.
+
+At length the last pilot was disposed of, and "Number 10" made for home;
+and on a dark midnight she ran in among the shipping above the Battery,
+on the North River, and was still.
+
+Mr. Belcher was not without ready money. He was in the habit of carrying
+a considerable sum, and, before leaving Talbot, he had drained that
+gentleman's purse. He gave a handsome fee to the men, and, taking his
+satchel in his hand, went on shore. He was weak and wretched with long
+seasickness and loss of sleep, and staggered as he walked along the
+wharf like a drunken man. He tried to get one of the men to go with him,
+and carry his burden, but each wanted the time with his family, and
+declined to serve him at any price. So he followed up the line of
+shipping for a few blocks, went by the dens where drunken sailors and
+river-thieves were carousing, and then turned up Fulton Street toward
+Broadway. He knew that the city cars ran all night, but he did not dare
+to enter one of them. Reaching the Astor, he crossed over, and, seeing
+an up-town car starting off without a passenger, he stepped upon the
+front platform, where he deposited his satchel, and sat down upon it.
+People came into the car and stepped off, but they could not see him.
+He was oppressed with drowsiness, yet he was painfully wide awake.
+
+At length he reached the vicinity of his old splendors. The car was
+stopped, and, resuming his burden, he crossed over to Fifth Avenue, and
+stood in front of the palace which had been his home. It was dark at
+every window. Where were his wife and children? Who had the house in
+keeping? He was tired, and sat down on the curb-stone, under the very
+window where Mr. Balfour was at that moment sleeping. He put his dizzy
+head between his hands, and whimpered like a sick boy. "Played out!"
+said he; "played out!"
+
+He heard a measured step in the distance. He must not be seen by the
+watch; so he rose and bent his steps toward Mrs. Dillingham's. Opposite
+to her house, he sat down upon the curb-stone again, and recalled his
+old passion for her. The thought of her treachery and of his own
+fatuitous vanity--the reflection that he had been so blind in his
+self-conceit that she had led him to his ruin, stung him to the quick.
+He saw a stone at his feet. He picked it up, and, taking his satchel in
+one hand, went half across the street, and hurled the little missile at
+her window. He heard the crash of glass and a shrill scream, and then
+walked rapidly off. Then he heard a watchman running from a distance;
+for the noise was peculiar, and resounded along the street. The watchman
+met him and made an inquiry, but passed on without suspecting the
+fugitive's connection with the alarm.
+
+As soon as he was out of the street, he quickened his pace, and went
+directly to Talbot's. Then he rang the door-bell, once, twice, thrice.
+Mr. Talbot put his head out of the window, looked down, and, in the
+light of a street lamp, discovered the familiar figure of his old
+principal. "I'll come down," he said, "and let you in."
+
+The conference was a long one, and it ended in both going into the
+street, and making their way to Talbot's stable, two or three blocks
+distant. There the coachman was roused, and there Talbot gave Mr.
+Belcher the privilege of sleeping until he was wanted.
+
+Mr. Talbot had assured Mr. Belcher that he would not be safe in his
+house, that the whole town was alive with rumors about him, and that
+while some believed he had escaped and was on his way to Europe, others
+felt certain that he had not left the city.
+
+Mr. Belcher had been a railroad man, and Mr. Talbot was sure that the
+railroad men would help him. He would secure a special car at his own
+cost, on a train that would leave on the following night. He would see
+that the train should stop before crossing Harlem Bridge. At that moment
+the General must be there. Mr. Talbot would send him up, to sit in his
+cab until the train should stop, and then to take the last car, which
+should be locked after him; and he could go through in it without
+observation.
+
+A breakfast was smuggled into the stable early, where Mr. Belcher lay
+concealed, of which he ate greedily. Then he was locked into the room,
+where he slept all day. At eight o'clock in the evening, a cab stood in
+the stable, ready to issue forth on the opening of the doors. Mr.
+Belcher took his seat in it, in the darkness, and then the vehicle was
+rapidly driven to Harlem. After ten minutes of waiting, the dazzling
+head-light of a great train, crawling out of the city, showed down the
+Avenue. He unlatched the door of his cab, took his satchel in his hand,
+and, as the last car on the train came up to him, he leaped out, mounted
+the platform, and vanished in the car, closing the door behind him. "All
+right!" was shouted from the rear; the conductor swung his lantern, and
+the train thundered over the bridge and went roaring off into the night.
+
+The General had escaped. All night he traveled on, and, some time during
+the forenoon, his car was shunted from the Trunk line upon the branch
+that led toward Sevenoaks. It was nearly sunset when he reached the
+terminus. The railroad sympathy had helped and shielded him thus far,
+but the railroad ended there, and its sympathy and help were cut off
+short with the last rail.
+
+Mr. Belcher sent for the keeper of a public stable whom he knew, and
+with whom he had always been in sympathy, through the love of
+horse-flesh which they entertained in common. As he had no personal
+friendship to rely on in his hour of need, he resorted to that which had
+grown up between men who had done their best to cheat each other by
+systematic lying in the trading of horses.
+
+"Old Man Coates," for that was the name by which the stable keeper was
+known, found his way to the car where Mr. Belcher still remained hidden.
+The two men met as old cronies, and Mr. Belcher said: "Coates, I'm in
+trouble, and am bound for Canada. How is Old Calamity?"
+
+Now in all old and well regulated stables there is one horse of
+exceptional renown for endurance. "Old Calamity" was a roan, with one
+wicked white eye, that in his best days had done a hundred miles in ten
+hours. A great deal of money had been won and lost on him, first and
+last, but he had grown old, and had degenerated into a raw-boned, tough
+beast, that was resorted to in great emergencies, and relied upon for
+long stretches of travel that involved extraordinary hardship.
+
+"Well, he's good yet," replied Old Man Coates.
+
+"You must sell him to me, with a light wagon," said Mr. Belcher.
+
+"I could make more money by telling a man who is looking for you in the
+hotel that you are here," said the old man, with a wicked leer.
+
+"But you won't do it," responded the General. "You can't turn on a man
+who has loved the same horse with you, old man; you know you can't."
+
+"Well, I can, but in course I won't;" and the stable-keeper went into a
+calculation of the value of the horse and harness, with a wagon "that
+couldn't be broke down."
+
+Old Man Coates had Belcher at a disadvantage, and, of course, availed
+himself of it, and had no difficulty in making a bargain which reduced
+the fugitive's stock of ready money in a fearful degree.
+
+At half-past nine, that night, "Old Calamity" was driven down to the
+side of the car by Coates' own hands, and in a moment the old man was
+out of the wagon and the new owner was in it. The horse, the moment Mr.
+Belcher took the reins, had a telegraphic communication concerning the
+kind of man who was behind him, and the nature of the task that lay
+before him, and struck off up the road toward Sevenoaks with a long,
+swinging trot that gave the driver a sense of being lifted at every
+stride.
+
+It was a curious incident in the history of Mr. Belcher's flight to
+Canada, which practically began when he leaped upon the deck of
+Pilot-Boat Number 10, that he desired to see every spot that had been
+connected with his previous life. A more sensitive man would have
+shunned the scenes which had been associated with his prosperous and
+nominally respectable career, but he seemed possessed with a morbid
+desire to look once more upon the localities in which he had moved as
+king.
+
+He had not once returned to Sevenoaks since he left the village for the
+metropolis; and although he was in bitter haste, with men near him in
+pursuit, he was determined to take the longer road to safety, in order
+to revisit the scene of his early enterprise and his first successes. He
+knew that Old Calamity would take him to Sevenoaks in two hours, and
+that then the whole village would be in its first nap. The road was
+familiar, and the night not too dark. Dogs came out from farm-houses as
+he rattled by, and barked furiously. He found a cow asleep in the road,
+and came near being upset by her. He encountered one or two tramps, who
+tried to speak to him, but he flew on until the spires of the little
+town, where he had once held the supreme life, defined themselves
+against the sky, far up the river. Here he brought his horse down to a
+walk. The moment he was still, for he had not yet reached the roar of
+the falls, he became conscious that a wagon was following him in the
+distance. Old Man Coates had not only sold him his horse, but he had
+sold his secret!
+
+Old Calamity was once more put into a trot, and in ten minutes he was by
+the side of his mill. Seeing the watchman in front, he pulled up, and,
+in a disguised voice, inquired the way to the hotel. Having received a
+rough answer, he inquired of the man whose mill he was watching.
+
+"I don't know," responded the man. "It's stopped now. It was old
+Belcher's once, but he's gone up, they say."
+
+Mr. Belcher started on. He crossed the bridge, and drove up the steep
+hill toward his mansion. Arriving at the hight, he stood still by the
+side of the Seven Oaks, which had once been the glory of his country
+home. Looking down into the town, he saw lights at the little tavern,
+and, by the revelations of the lantern that came to the door, a horse
+and wagon. At this moment, his great Newfoundland dog came bounding
+toward him, growling like a lion. He had alighted to stretch his limbs,
+and examine into the condition of his horse. The dog came toward him
+faster and faster, and more and more menacingly, till he reached him,
+and heard his own name called. Then he went down into the dust, and
+fawned upon his old master pitifully. Mr. Belcher caressed him. There
+was still one creature living that recognized him, and acknowledged him
+as his lord. He looked up at his house and took a final survey of the
+dim outlines of the village. Then he mounted his wagon, turned his horse
+around, and went slowly down the hill, calling to his dog to follow. The
+huge creature followed a few steps, then hesitated, then, almost
+crawling, he turned and sneaked away, and finally broke into a run and
+went back to the house, where he stopped and with a short, gruff bark
+scouted his retiring master.
+
+Mr. Belcher looked back. His last friend had left him. "Blast the
+brute!" he exclaimed. "He is like the rest of 'em."
+
+As he came down the road to turn into the main highway, a man stepped
+out from the bushes and seized Old Calamity by the bridle. Mr. Belcher
+struck his horse a heavy blow, and the angry beast, by a single leap,
+not only shook himself clear of the grasp upon his bit, but hurled the
+intercepting figure upon the ground. A second man stood ready to deal
+with Mr. Belcher, but the latter in passing gave him a furious cut with
+his whip, and Old Calamity was, in twenty seconds, as many rods away
+from both of them, sweeping up the long hill at a trot that none but
+iron sinews could long sustain.
+
+The huge pile that constituted the Sevenoaks poor-house was left upon
+his right, and in half an hour he began a long descent, which so far
+relieved his laboring horse, that when he reached the level he could
+hardly hold him. The old fire of the brute was burning at its hottest.
+Mr. Belcher pulled him in, to listen for the pursuit. Half a mile
+behind, he could hear wheels tearing madly down the hill, and he
+laughed. The race had, for the time, banished from his mind the history
+of the previous week, banished the memory of his horrible losses,
+banished his sense of danger, banished his nervous fears. It was a stern
+chase, proverbially a long one, and he had the best horse, and knew that
+he could not be overtaken. The sound of the pursuing wheels grew fainter
+and fainter, until they ceased altogether.
+
+Just as the day was breaking, he turned from the main road into the
+woods, and as the occupants of a cabin were rising, he drove up and
+asked for shelter and a breakfast.
+
+He remained there all day, and, just before night, passed through the
+forest to another road, and in the early morning was driving quietly
+along a Canadian highway, surveying his "adopted country," and assuming
+the character of a loyal subject of the good Queen of England.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+WHICH GIVES THE HISTORY OF AN ANNIVERSARY, PRESENTS A TABLEAU, AND DROPS
+THE CURTAIN.
+
+
+Three months after Mr. Belcher's escape, the great world hardly
+remembered that such a man as he had ever lived. Other rascals took his
+place, and absorbed the public attention, having failed to learn--what
+even their betters were slow to apprehend--that every strong, active,
+bad man is systematically engaged in creating and shaping the
+instruments for his own destruction. Men continued to be dazzled by
+their own success, until they could see neither the truth and right that
+lay along their way, nor the tragic end that awaited them.
+
+The execution in satisfaction of the judgment obtained against Mr.
+Belcher was promptly issued and levied; claimants and creditors of
+various sorts took all that the execution left; Mrs. Belcher and her
+children went to their friends in the country; the Sevenoaks property
+was bought for Mr. Benedict, and a thousand lives were adjusted to the
+new circumstances; but narrative palls when its details are anticipated.
+Let us pass them, regarding them simply as memories coming up--sometimes
+faintly, sometimes freshly--from the swiftly retiring years, and close
+the book, as we began it, with a picture.
+
+Sevenoaks looks, in its main features, as it looked when the reader
+first saw it. The river rolls through it with the old song that the
+dwellers upon its banks have heard through all these changing years. The
+workmen and workwomen come and go in the mill, in their daily round of
+duty, as they did when Phipps, and the gray trotters, and the great
+proprietor were daily visions of the streets. The little tailoress
+returns twice a year with her thrifty husband, to revisit her old
+friends; and she brings at last a little one, which she shows with great
+pride. Sevenoaks has become a summer thoroughfare to the woods, where
+Jim receives the city-folk in incredible numbers.
+
+We look in upon the village on a certain summer evening, at five years'
+remove from the first occupation of the Belcher mansion by Mr. Benedict.
+The mist above the falls cools the air and bathes the trees as it did
+when Robert Belcher looked upon it as the incense which rose to his
+lordly enterprise. The nestling cottages, the busy shops, the
+fresh-looking spires, the distant woods, the more distant mountain, the
+old Seven Oaks upon the Western plateau and the beautiful residence
+behind them, are the same to-day that they were when we first looked
+upon them; but a new life and a new influence inform them all. Nature
+holds her unvarying frame, but the life upon the canvas is what we paint
+from year to year. The river sings to vice as it sings to virtue. The
+birds carol the same, whether selfishness or love be listening. The
+great mountains rejoice in the sun, or drape their brows in clouds,
+irrespective of the eyes that regard them.
+
+This one fact remains good in Sevenoaks, and the world over. The man who
+holds the financial power and the social throne of a town, makes that
+town, in a good degree, what he is. If he is virtuous, noble, unselfish,
+good, the elements beneath him shape themselves, consciously or
+unconsciously, to his character. Vice shrinks into disgrace, or flies to
+more congenial haunts. The greed for gold which grasps and over-reaches,
+becomes ashamed, or changes to neighborly helpfulness. The discontent
+that springs up in the shadow of an unprincipled and boastful worldly
+success, dies; and men become happy in the toil that wins a comfortable
+shelter and daily bread, when he to whom all look up, looks down upon
+them with friendly and sympathetic eyes, and holds his wealth and power
+in service of their good.
+
+Paul Benedict is now the proprietor of Sevenoaks; and from the happy day
+in which he, with his sister and child, came to the occupation of the
+mansion which his old persecutor had built for himself, the fortunes and
+character of the town have mended. Even the poor-house has grown more
+comfortable in its apartments and administration, while year by year its
+population has decreased. Through these first years, the quiet man has
+moved around his mill and his garden, his mind teeming with suggestions,
+and filling with new interest in their work the dull brains that had
+been worn deep and dry with routine. All eyes turn upon him with
+affection. He is their brother as well as their master.
+
+In the great house, there is a happy woman. She has found something to
+love and something to do. These were all she needed to make her
+supremely self-respectful, happy, and, in the best degree, womanly.
+Willful, ambitious, sacrificing her young affections to gold at the
+first, and wasting years in idleness and unworthy intrigue, for the lack
+of affection and the absence of motive to usefulness and industry, she
+has found, at last, the secret of her woman's life, and has accepted it
+with genuine gratitude. In ministering to her brother and her brother's
+child, now a stalwart lad, in watching with untiring eyes and helping
+with ready wit the unused proprietor in his new circumstances, and in
+assisting the poor around her, she finds her days full of toil and
+significance, and her nights brief with grateful sleep. She is the great
+lady of the village, holding high consideration from her relationship to
+the proprietor, and bestowing importance upon him by her revelation of
+his origin and his city associations.
+
+The special summer evening to which we allude is one which has long been
+looked forward to by all the people in whom our story has made the
+reader sympathetically interested. It is an anniversary--the fifth since
+the new family took up their residence in the grand house. Mr. and Mrs.
+Balfour with their boy are there. Sam Yates is there--now the agent of
+the mill--a trusty, prosperous man; and by a process of which we have
+had no opportunity to note the details, he has transformed Miss Snow
+into Mrs. Yates. The matter was concluded some years ago, and they seem
+quite wonted to each other. The Rev. Mr. Snow, grown thinner and grayer,
+and a great deal happier, is there with his wife and his two unmarried
+daughters. He finds it easier to "take things as they air," than
+formerly, and, by his old bridge, holds them against all comers. And who
+is this, and who are these? Jim Fenton, very much smoothed exteriorly,
+but jolly, acute, outspoken, peculiar as ever. He walks around the
+garden with a boy on his shoulder. The "little feller" that originally
+appeared in Mr. Benedict's plans of the new hotel is now in his
+hands--veritable flesh and blood; and "the little woman," sitting with
+Mrs. Snow, while Mrs. Dillingham directs the arrangement of the banquet
+that is being spread in the pagoda, watches the pair, and exclaims:
+"Look at them! now isn't it ridiculous?"
+
+The warm sun hides himself behind the western hill, though still an hour
+above his setting. The roar of the falling river rises to their ears,
+the sound of the factory bell echoes among the hills, and the crowd of
+grimy workmen and workwomen pours forth, darkening the one street that
+leads from the mill, and dissipating itself among the waiting cottages.
+All is tranquillity and beauty, while the party gather to their out-door
+feast.
+
+It is hardly a merry company, though a very happy one. It is the latest
+issue of a tragedy in which all have borne more or less important parts.
+The most thoughtless of them cannot but feel that a more powerful hand
+than their own has shaped their lives and determined their destinies.
+
+The boys are called in, and the company gather to their banquet, amid
+conversation and laughter.
+
+Mr. Balfour turns to Jim and says: "How does this compare with Number
+Nine, Jim? Isn't this better than the woods?"
+
+Jim has been surveying the preparations with a critical and
+professional eye, for professional purposes. The hotel-keeper keeps
+himself constantly open to suggestions, and the table before him
+suggests so much, that his own establishment seems very humble and
+imperfect.
+
+"I ben thinkin' about it," Jim responds. "When a man has got all he
+wants, he's brung up standin' at the end of his road. If thar ain't
+comfort then, then there ain't no comfort. When he's got more nor he
+wants, then he's got by comfort, and runnin' away from it. I hearn the
+women talk about churnin' by, so that the butter never comes, an' a man
+as has more money nor he wants churns by his comfort, an' spends his
+life swashin' with his dasher, and wonderin' where his butter is. Old
+Belcher's butter never come, but he worked away till his churn blowed
+up, an' he went up with it."
+
+"So you think our good friend Mr. Benedict has got so much that he has
+left comfort behind," says Mr. Balfour with a laugh.
+
+"I should be afeard he had, if he could reelize it was all his'n, but he
+can't. He hain't got no more comfort here, no way, nor he used to have
+in the woods." Then Jim leans over to Mr. Balfour's ear, and says: "It's
+the woman as does it. It's purty to look at, but it's too pertickler for
+comfort."
+
+Mr. Balfour sees that he and Jim are observed, and so speaks louder.
+"There is one thing," he says: "that I have learned in the course of
+this business. It does not lie very deep, but it is at least worth
+speaking of. I have learned how infinitely more interesting and
+picturesque vulgar poverty is than vulgar riches. One can find more
+poetry in a log cabin than in all that wealth ever crowded into
+Palgrave's Folly. If poor men and poor women, honest and patient
+workers, could only apprehend the poetical aspects of their own lives
+and conditions, instead of imagining that wealth holds a monopoly of the
+poetry of life, they would see that they have the best of it, and are
+really enviable people."
+
+Jim knows, of course, that his old cabin in the woods is in Mr.
+Balfour's mind, and feels himself called upon to say something in
+response. "If so be as ye're 'ludin' at me," says he, "I'm much obleeged
+to ye, but I perfer a hotel to a log cabin, pertickler with a little
+woman and a little feller in it, Paul B., by name."
+
+"That's all right, Jim," says Mr. Balfour, "but I don't call that vulgar
+wealth which is won slowly, by honest industry. A man who has more money
+than he has brains, and makes his surroundings the advertisement of his
+possessions, rather than the expression of his culture, is a vulgar man,
+or a man of vulgar wealth."
+
+"Did ye ever think," says Jim, "that riches rots or keeps accordin' to
+their natur?--rots or keeps," he goes on, "accordin' to what goes into
+'em when a man is gitten' 'em together? Blood isn't a purty thing to mix
+with money, an' I perfer mine dry. A golden sweetin' grows quick an'
+makes a big show, but ye can't keep it through the winter."
+
+"That's true, Jim," responds Mr. Balfour. "Wealth takes into itself the
+qualities by which it is won. Gathered by crime or fraud, and gathered
+in haste, it becomes a curse to those who hold it, and falls into ruin
+by its own corruptions. Acquired by honest toil, manly frugality,
+patient endurance, and patient waiting, it is full of good, and holds
+together by a force within itself."
+
+"Poor Mrs. Belcher!" exclaims Mrs. Dillingham, as the reflection comes
+to her that that amiable lady was once the mistress of the beautiful
+establishment over which she has been called upon to preside.
+
+"They say she is living nicely," says Mr. Snow, "and that somebody sends
+her money, though she does not know where it comes from. It is supposed
+that her husband saved something, and keeps himself out of sight, while
+he looks after his family."
+
+Mr. Benedict and Mrs. Dillingham exchange significant glances. Jim is a
+witness of the act, and knows what it means. He leans over to Mr.
+Benedict, and says: "When I seen sheet-lightnin', I know there's a
+shower where it comes from. Ye can't fool me about ma'am Belcher's
+money."
+
+"You will not tell anybody, Jim," says Mr. Benedict, in a low tone.
+
+"Nobody but the little woman," responds Jim; and then, seeing that his
+"little feller," in the distance, is draining a cup with more than
+becoming leisure, he shouts down the table: "Paul B! Paul B! Ye can't
+git that mug on to yer head with the brim in yer mouth. It isn't yer
+size, an' it doesn't look purty on ye."
+
+"I should like to know where the old rascal is," says Mrs. Snow, going
+back to the suggestion that Mr. Belcher was supplying his family with
+money.
+
+"Well, I can tell ye," replies Jim. "I've been a keepin' it in for this
+very meetin'."
+
+"Oh Jim!" exclaim half a dozen voices, which means: "we are dying to
+hear all about it."
+
+"Well," says Jim, "there was a feller as come to my hotel a month ago,
+and says he: 'Jim, did ye ever know what had become of old Belcher?'
+'No,' says I, 'I only knowed he cut a big stick, an' slid.' 'Well,' says
+he, 'I seen 'im a month ago, with whiskers enough on 'is ugly face to
+set up a barberry-bush.' Says I, 'Where did ye seen 'im?' 'Where do ye
+guess', says he?' 'Swoppin' a blind hoss', says I, 'fur a decent one,
+an' gettin' boot.' 'No,' says he, 'guess agin.' 'Preachin' at a
+camp-meetin',' says I, 'an' passin' round a hat arter it.' 'No,' says
+he, 'I seen 'im jest where he belonged. He was tendin' a little bar, on
+a S'n' Lor'nce steamboat. He was settin' on a big stool in the middle of
+'is bottles, where he could reach 'em all without droppin' from his
+roost, an' when his customers was out he was a peekin' into a little
+lookin'-glass, as stood aside of 'im, an' a combin' out his baird.'
+'That settles it,' says I, 'you've seen 'im, an no mistake.' 'Then,'
+says he, 'I called 'im 'General,' an' he looked kind a skeered, an' says
+'e to me, 'Mum's the word! Crooked Valley an' Air Line is played out,
+an' I'm workin' up a corner in Salt River,'--laughin', an' offerin' to
+treat.'
+
+"I wonder how he came in such a place as that," says Mrs. Snow.
+
+"That's the funniest part on't," responds Jim. "He found an old friend
+on the boat, as was much of a gentleman,--an old friend as was dressed
+within an inch of his life, an' sold the tickets."
+
+"Phipps!" "Phipps!" shout half a dozen voices, and a boisterous laugh
+goes around the group.
+
+"Ye've guessed right the fust time," Jim continues, "an' the
+gentlemanlest clerk, an' the poplarest man as ever writ names in a book,
+an' made change on a counter, with no end o' rings an' hankercher-pins,
+an' presents of silver mugs, an' rampin' resolootions of admirin'
+passingers. An' there the two fellers be, a sailin' up an' down the
+S'n.' Lor'nce, as happy as two clams in high water, workin' up corners
+in their wages, an' playin' into one another's hands like a pair of
+pickpockets; and what do ye think old Belcher said about Phipps?"
+
+"What did he say?" comes from every side.
+
+"Well, I can't tell percisely," responds Jim. "Fust he said it was
+proverdential, as Phipps run away when he did; an' then he put in
+somethin' that sounded as if it come from a book,--somethin' about
+tunin' the wind to the sheared ram."
+
+Jim is very doubtful about his quotation, and actually blushes scarlet
+under the fire of laughter that greets him from every quarter.
+
+"I'm glad if it 'muses ye," says Jim, "but it wasn't anything better nor
+that, considerin' the man as took it to himself."
+
+"Jim, you'll be obliged to read up," says "the little woman," who still
+stands by her early resolutions to take her husband for what he is, and
+enjoy his peculiarities with her neighbors.
+
+"I be as I be," he responds. "I can keep a hotel, an' make money on it,
+an' pervide for my own, but when it comes to books ye can trip me with a
+feather."
+
+The little banquet draws to a close, and now two or three inquire
+together for Mr. Yates. He has mysteriously disappeared! The children
+have already left the table, and Paul B. is romping with a great show of
+equine spirit about the garden paths, astride of a stick. Jim is looking
+at him in undisguised admiration. "I do believe," he exclaims, "that the
+little feller thinks he's a hoss, with a neck more nor three feet long.
+See 'im bend it over agin the check-rein he's got in his mind! Hear 'im
+squeal! Now look out for his heels!"
+
+At this moment, there rises upon the still evening air a confused murmur
+of many voices. All but the children pause and listen. "What is coming?"
+"Who is coming?" "What is it?" break from the lips of the listeners.
+Only Mrs. Yates looks intelligent, and she holds her tongue, and keeps
+her seat. The sound comes nearer, and breaks into greater confusion. It
+is laughter, and merry conversation, and the jar of tramping feet. Mr.
+Benedict suspects what it is, and goes off among his vines, in a state
+of painful unconcern! The boys run out to the brow of the hill, and come
+back in great excitement, to announce that the whole town is thronging
+up toward the house. Then all, as if apprehending the nature of the
+visit, gather about their table again, that being the place where their
+visitors will expect to find them.
+
+At length, Sam. Yates comes in sight, around the corner of the mansion,
+followed closely by all the operatives of the mill, dressed in their
+holiday attire. Mrs. Dillingham has found her brother, and with her hand
+upon his arm she goes out to meet his visitors. They have come to crown
+the feast, and signalize the anniversary, by bringing their
+congratulations to the proprietor, and the beautiful lady who presides
+over his house. There is a great deal of awkwardness among the young
+men, and tittering and blushing among the young women, with side play
+of jest and coquetry, as they form themselves in a line, preparatory to
+something formal, which presently appears.
+
+Mr. Yates, the agent of the mill, who has consented to be the spokesman
+of the occasion, stands in front, and faces Mr. Benedict and Mrs.
+Dillingham.
+
+"Mr. Benedict," says he, "this demonstration in your honor is not one
+originated by myself, but, in some way, these good people who serve you
+learned that you were to have a formal celebration of this anniversary,
+and they have asked me to assist them in expressing the honor in which
+they hold you, and the sympathy with which they enter into your
+rejoicing. We all know your history. Many of those who now stand before
+you, remember your wrongs and your misfortunes; and there is not one who
+does not rejoice that you have received that which your own genius won
+in the hands of another. There is not one who does not rejoice that the
+evil influence of this house is departed, and that one now occupies it
+who thoroughly respects and honors the manhood and womanhood that labor
+in his service. We are glad to acknowledge you as our master, because we
+know that we can regard you as our friend. Your predecessor despised
+poverty--even the poverty into which he was born--and forgot, in the
+first moment of his success, that he had ever been poor, while your own
+bitter experiences have made you brotherly. On behalf of all those who
+now stand before you, let me thank you for your sympathy, for your
+practical efforts to give us a share in the results of your prosperity,
+and for the purifying influences which go out from this dwelling into
+all our humble homes. We give you our congratulations on this
+anniversary, and hope for happy returns of the day, until, among the
+inevitable changes of the future, we all yield our places to those who
+are to succeed us."
+
+Mr. Benedict's eyes are full of tears. He does not turn, however, to Mr.
+Balfour, for help. The consciousness of power, and, more than this, the
+consciousness of universal sympathy, give him self-possession and the
+power of expression.
+
+"Mr. Yates," says Mr. Benedict, "when you call me master, you give me
+pain. When you speak of me as your brother, and the brother of all those
+whom you represent, you pay me the most grateful compliment that I have
+ever received. It is impossible for me to regard myself as anything but
+the creature and the instrument of a loving Providence. It is by no
+power of my own, no skill of my own, no providence of my own, that I
+have been carried through the startling changes of my life. The power
+that has placed me where I am, is the power in which, during all my
+years of adversity, I firmly trusted. It was that power which brought me
+my friends--friends to whose good will and efficient service I owe my
+wealth and my ability to make life profitable and pleasant to you. Fully
+believing this, I can in no way regard myself as my own, or indulge in
+pride and vain glory. You are all my brothers and sisters, and the dear
+Father of us all has placed the power in my hands to do you good. In the
+patient and persistent execution of this stewardship lies the duty of my
+life. I thank you all for your good will. I thank you all for this
+opportunity to meet you, and to say to you the words which have for five
+years been in my heart, waiting to be spoken. Come to me always with
+your troubles. Tell me always what I can do for you, to make your way
+easier. Help me to make this village a prosperous, virtuous and happy
+one--a model for all its neighbors. And now I wish to take you all by
+the hand, in pledge of our mutual friendship and of our devotion to each
+other."
+
+Mr. Benedict steps forward with Mrs. Dillingham, and both shake hands
+with Mr. Yates. One after another--some shyly, some confidently--the
+operatives come up and repeat the process, until all have pressed the
+proprietor's hand, and have received a pleasant greeting and a cordial
+word from his sister, of whom the girls are strangely afraid. There is a
+moment of awkward delay, as they start on their homeward way, and then
+they gather in a group upon the brow of the hill, and the evening air
+resounds with "three cheers" for Mr. Benedict. The hum of voices begins
+again, the tramp of a hundred feet passes down the hill, and our little
+party are left to themselves.
+
+They do not linger long. The Snows take their leave. Mr. and Mrs. Yates
+retire, with a lingering "good-night," but the Balfours and the Fentons
+are guests of the house. They go in, and the lamps are lighted, while
+the "little feller--Paul B. by name"--is carried on his happy father's
+shoulder to his bed up stairs.
+
+Finally, Jim comes down, having seen his pet asleep, and finds the
+company talking about Talbot. He and his pretty, worldly wife, finding
+themselves somewhat too intimately associated with the bad fame of
+Robert Belcher, had retired to a country seat on the Hudson--a nest
+which they feathered well with the profits of the old connection.
+
+And now, as they take leave of each other for the night, and shake hands
+in token of their good-will, and their satisfaction with the pleasures
+of the evening, Jim says: "Mr. Benedict, that was a good speech o'
+yourn. It struck me favorble an' s'prised me some considable. I'd no
+idee ye could spread so afore folks. I shouldn't wonder if ye was right
+about Proverdence. It seems kind o' queer that somebody or somethin'
+should be takin keer o' you an' me, but I vow I don't see how it's all
+ben did, if so be as nobody nor nothin' has took keer o' me, an' you
+too. It seems reasomble that somethin's ben to work all the time that I
+hain't seed. The trouble with me is that I can't understand how a bein'
+as turns out worlds as if they was nothin' more nor snow-balls would
+think o' stoppin' to pay 'tention to sech a feller as Jim Fenton."
+
+"You are larger than a sparrow, Jim," says Mr. Benedict with a smile.
+
+"That's so."
+
+"Larger than a hair."
+
+Jim puts up his hand, brushes down the stiff crop that crowns his head,
+and responds with a comical smile, "I don' know 'bout that."
+
+Jim pauses as if about to make some further remark, thinks better of it,
+and then, putting his big arm around his little wife, leads her off, up
+stairs.
+
+The lights of the great house go out one after another, the cataracts
+sing the inmates to sleep, the summer moon witches with the mist, the
+great, sweet heaven bends over the dreaming town, and there we leave our
+friends at rest, to take up the burden of their lives again upon the
+happy morrow, beyond our feeble following, but still under the loving
+eye and guiding hand to which we confidently and gratefully commit them.
+
+
+
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