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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15214-8.txt b/15214-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..80f8980 --- /dev/null +++ b/15214-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16895 @@ +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-8859-1 + + +***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 _protégé_. 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 _protégé_. + +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 _protégés_ 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 régle_ 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-à-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 _tête-à-tête_ 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 protégés 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 _protégé_ 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 coupé, 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-fé_ 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 +_dénouement_, 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 cañons 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 _employé_ 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 _protégé_, 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 rôle 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 +protégé 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 coupè, 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 coupè. + +"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 coupè 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 coupé 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 coupé, 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 confrères 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 coupé, 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 coupé," said Talbot. "I will take you home." + +Mr. Belcher got into the coupé 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 coupé 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 +coupé. 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. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVENOAKS*** + + +******* This file should be named 15214-8.txt or 15214-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/2/1/15214 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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G. Holland</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; } + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sevenoaks, by J. G. Holland</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Sevenoaks</p> +<p>Author: J. G. Holland</p> +<p>Release Date: March 1, 2005 [eBook #15214]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVENOAKS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Josephine Paolucci,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<h1>SEVENOAKS</h1> + +<h2><i>A STORY OF TODAY</i></h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>J. G. HOLLAND</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h6>New York<br /> +Grosset & Dunlap<br /> +Publishers</h6> + +<h6>Published by Arrangement with Charles Scribner's Sons</h6> + +<h4>1875</h4> + +<p> </p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Which tells about Sevenoaks, and how Miss Butterworth passed one of +her evenings<br /> +<br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Mr. Belcher carries his point at the town-meeting, and the poor are +knocked down to Thomas Buffum<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Jim Fenton is introduced to the reader and introduces himself to +Miss Butterworth<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Jim Fenton applies for lodgings at Tom Buffum's boarding-house, +and finds his old friend<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Jim enlarges his accommodations and adopts a violent method +of securing boarders<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Sevenoaks experiences a great commotion, and comes to the +conclusion that Benedict has met with foul play<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Jim and Mike Conlin pass through a great trial and come out +victorious<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Mr. Belcher visits New York, and becomes the Proprietor of +"Palgrave's Folly."<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Mrs. Talbot gives her little dinner party, and Mr. Belcher makes an +exceedingly pleasant acquaintance<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +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<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Which records Mr. Belcher's connection with a great speculation and +brings to a close his residence in Sevenoaks<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Jim enlarges his plans for a house, and completes his plans for +a house-keeper<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Which introduces several residents of Sevenoaks to the Metropolis and +a new character to the reader<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Which tells of a great public meeting in Sevenoaks, the burning in effigy +of Mr. Belcher, and that gentleman's interview with a reporter<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Which tells about Mrs. Dillingham's Christmas and the New Year's Reception +at the Palgrave Mansion<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Which gives an account of a voluntary and an involuntary visit of Sam +Yates to Number Nine<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Jim constructs two happy-Davids, raises his hotel, and dismisses +Sam Yates<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Mrs. Dillingham makes some important discoveries, but fails to +reveal them to the reader<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Mr. Belcher becomes President of the Crooked Valley Railroad, +with large "Terminal facilities," and makes an adventure into a +long-meditated crime<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which "the little woman" announces her engagement to Jim Fenton +and receives the congratulations of her friends<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Jim gets the furniture into his house, and Mike Conlin gets +another installment of advice into Jim<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Jim gets married, the new hotel receives its mistress, and +Benedict confers a power of attorney<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +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<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Wherein the General leaps the bounds of law, finds himself in a new +world, and becomes the victim of his friends without knowing it<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which the General goes through a great many trials, and meets at last +the one he has so long anticipated<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which the case of "Benedict <i>vs.</i> Belcher" finds itself in court, an +interesting question of identity is settled, and a mysterious<br /> +disappearance takes place<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which Phipps is not to be found, and the General is called upon to do +his own lying<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +In which a heavenly witness appears who cannot be cross-examined, and +before which the defense utterly breaks down<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Wherein Mr. Belcher, having exhibited his dirty record, shows a clean +pair of heels<br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>CHAPTER XXX.</b></a><br /> +<br /> +Which gives the history of an anniversary, presents a tableau, and drops +the curtain<br /> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SEVENOAKS.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I" />CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p>WHICH TELLS ABOUT SEVENOAKS, AND HOW MISS BUTTERWORTH +PASSED ONE OF HER EVENINGS.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>couchant</i>—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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Come in!"</p> + +<p>"Please, sir," said a scared-looking maid, opening the +door just wide enough to make room for her face.</p> + +<p>"Well?" in a voice so sharp and harsh that the girl cringed.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, Miss Butterworth is at the door, and would +like to see you."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Come in," said Mr. Belcher to his servant, "and shut +the door behind you."</p> + +<p>The girl came in, shut the door, and waited, leaning against it.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Bring her in; I'll make short work with her."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Come in," said Mr. Belcher, in his blandest tone, when +Miss Butterworth was conducted to his room.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Keziah?" said Mr. Belcher, looking up with a smile, +as if an unexpected old friend had come to him.</p> + +<p>"My name is Butterworth, and it's got a handle to it,' +said that bumptious lady, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Well, but, Keziah, you know we used to—"</p> + +<p>"My name is Butterworth, I tell you, and it's got a +handle to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Butterworth—happy to see you—hope you +are well—take a chair."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>As Miss Butterworth did not seem inclined to begin conversation, +Mr. Belcher hem'd and haw'd with affected nonchalance, +and said:</p> + +<p>"Ah!—to—what am I indebted for this visit. Miss—ah—Butterworth?"</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking!" she replied sharply, looking into the +fire, and pressing her lips together.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be said to this, so Mr. Belcher looked +doggedly at her, and waited.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Here Miss Butterworth paused. She had laid her foundation, +and proceeded at her leisure.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher grew pale and fidgeted in his chair.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"And get it," said Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know I sent him to the asylum," responded +Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Well, but I wanted some security for the money I had +advanced," said Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Miss Butterworth expected that this intelligence would stun +Mr. Belcher, but it did not.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Is poor Benedict comfortable?" he inquired, in his old, +off-hand way.</p> + +<p>"Comfortable—yes, in the way that pigs are."</p> + +<p>"Pigs are very comfortable, I believe, as a general thing," +said Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I prefer my present quarters."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"It takes a smart man to cheat himself, Miss Butterworth," +responded Mr. Belcher, rubbing his hands.</p> + +<p>"There is just where you're mistaken. It takes a fool."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Miss Butterworth was calm again. She knew that she had +done her cause no good, but was determined to finish her +errand.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Belcher, I'm a woman."</p> + +<p>"I know it, Keziah."</p> + +<p>"And my name is Butterworth."</p> + +<p>"I know it."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll think of it," said Mr. Belcher, deliberately.</p> + +<p>"Tell me you'll do it."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Who knows but he can be spurred up to do something?" +she said to herself.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, Sevenoaks has taken care of that with a vengeance," +burst out Miss Butterworth.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we inquire of them," struck in Miss Butterworth +again, "and find out whether they would not rather be treated +better and die earlier."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever been there?" inquired Miss Butterworth, +sharply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've been there."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Snow! my dear! you forget that we have a stranger +present."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't forget those strangers, anyway!"</p> + +<p>The three Misses Snow tittered, and looked at one another, +but were immediately solemnized by a glance from their +father.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Snow, having found her tongue—a characteristically +lively and emphatic one—went on to say:—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I wish Robert Belcher was hanged," said Mrs. Snow, +spitefully.</p> + +<p>"Amen! and my name is Butterworth," responded that +lady, making sure that there should be no mistake as to the +responsibility for the utterance.</p> + +<p>"Why, mother!" exclaimed the three hisses Snow, in +wonder.</p> + +<p>"And drawn and quartered!" added Mrs. Snow, emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Amen, again!" responded Miss Butterworth.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Snow! my dear! You forget that you are a Christian +pastor's wife, and that there is a stranger present."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, I'm sure you have a <i>great</i> deal of influence," +said the elder Miss Snow.</p> + +<p>"A great <i>deal</i> of influence," responded the next in years.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," echoed the youngest.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"And you will go to the meeting? and you will speak?" +said Miss Butterworth, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" and Mr. Snow looked straight into Miss Butterworth's +tearful eyes, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"The Lord add His blessing, and to His name be all the +praise! Good-night!" said Miss Butterworth, rising and +making for the door.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Not a rag. I'm hot. I believe I should roast if I had +on a feather more."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like Mr. Snow to go home with you? He +can go just as well as not," insisted Mrs. Snow.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II" />CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p>MR. BELCHER CARRIES HIS POINT AT THE TOWN-MEETING, AND +THE POOR ARE KNOCKED DOWN TO THOMAS BUFFUM.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>Having vented his indignation and disgust, with the fiercest +facial expression and the most menacing gesticulations, he +became calm, and proceeded:</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Tell Phipps to come here," he said to the maid who responded +to the summons.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Phipps appeared.</p> + +<p>"Well, Phipps, what are you here for?" inquired Mr. +Belcher.</p> + +<p>"I was told you wanted me, sir," looking doubtfully with +his cunning eyes into Mr. Belcher's face, as if questioning +his mood.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Phipps laughed, and twiddled his fingers.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Phipps smiled, aware that he was expected to make no +reply.</p> + +<p>"Phipps, do you expect to get up to-morrow morning?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do! Very well! See that you do."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And Phipps—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Bring the grays and the light wagon to the door to-morrow +morning at seven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Phipps snickered.</p> + +<p>"And Phipps, make a basket of cold meat and goodies, +and put in with the clothes."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And Phipps, remember:—seven o'clock, sharp, and no +soldiering."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"Ay! ay!" came tremblingly from behind the bars of a +cell, "let's get out of this."</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher pushed toward the light, but not so quickly +that a pair of eyes, glaring from the straw, failed to recognize +him.</p> + +<p>"Robert Belcher! Oh, for God's sake! Robert Belcher!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Peter Vernol," shouted a dozen voices in unison.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"What is the further pleasure of the meeting?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>As he took his seat, all eyes were turned upon Mr. Belcher, +and that gentleman rose for a second exhibition of his characteristic +eloquence.</p> + +<p>"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.]</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher paused until the wave of applause had subsided, +and then went on:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Snow rose and acknowledged that it was a long time +since he had entered Mr. Buffum's establishment.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Snow was silent, for he knew that he was impotent.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Dr. Radcliffe was armed with a large document, and the +assembled voters of Sevenoaks were getting tired.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>nem. con</i>.</p> + +<p>The Doctor was wounded in a sensitive spot, and was determined +not to be put down.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, git out!" shouted a voice at the rear.</p> + +<p>"Question! question!" called a dozen voices.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III" />CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH JIM FENTON IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER AND +INTRODUCES HIMSELF TO MISS BUTTERWORTH.</p> + + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, you're a new sort of a monkey, anyway," said +the woodsman, after the laugh had subsided. "I never +hearn one talk afore."</p> + +<p>"You never will again," retorted Phipps, "if you give +me any more of your lip."</p> + +<p>The woodsman walked quickly toward Phipps, as if he +were about to pull him from his seat.</p> + +<p>Phipps saw the motion, started the horses, and was out of +his way in an instant.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Has anybody teched ye, mum?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir," Miss Butterworth answered.</p> + +<p>"Has anybody spoke ha'sh to ye?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"No, you can do nothing for me. Nobody can do anything +in this town for anybody until Robert Belcher is dead," +said Miss Butterworth.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"I'm Jim Fenton. I trap for a livin' up in Number Nine, +and have jest brung in my skins."</p> + +<p>"My name is Butterworth," she responded mechanically.</p> + +<p>"I know'd it," he replied. "I axed the boys."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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'."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, bub," said he, tenderly, "how fare ye? How fare +ye? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"I'm pretty well, I thank you, sir," replied the lad.</p> + +<p>"I guess not. You're as blue as a whetstone. You haven't +got as much on you as a picked goose."</p> + +<p>"I can't help it, sir," and the boy burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The boy made a gesture of rejection, and said: "I don't +wish to take it, sir."</p> + +<p>"Now, that's good! Don't wish to take it! Why, what's +your name? You're a new sort o' boy."</p> + +<p>"My name is Harry Benedict."</p> + +<p>"Harry Benedict? And what's your pa's name?"</p> + +<p>"His name is Paul Benedict."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"He is in the poor-house."</p> + +<p>"And you, too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," and the lad found expression for his distress in +another flow of tears.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, and he's very crazy, too."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Harry gave a great, shuddering gasp, and, answering him +that she was dead, gave himself up to another fit of crying.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, boy," said Jim, his great frame shaking with indignation, +"do ye want to know what I think of Tom Buffum?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Jim Fenton was feeling his way.</p> + +<p>"I should say he was an infernal old Skeezacks. That +isn't very bad, is it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know sir," replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"Well, a d——d rascal; how's that?"</p> + +<p>"My father never used such words," replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Jim started with the sound in his ear of what seemed to be +a cry of distress.</p> + +<p>"That's one of the crazy people. They do it all the time.'"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"I'll never say anything if they kill me."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God! don't, boy! That's a sort o' thing I can't +stand. I ain't used to it."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Harry gave his assent.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"You can kiss me again, if ye want to. I didn't mean +to choke ye off. That was all in fun, ye know."</p> + +<p>Harry kissed him, and then Jim said: "Now make tracks +for yer old boardin'-house. I'll be along bimeby."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV" />CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH JIM FENTON APPLIES FOR LODGINGS AT TOM BUFFUM'S +BOARDING-HOUSE, AND FINDS HIS OLD FRIEND.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Buffum, how fare ye?" said Jim, walking +heartily up to him, and shaking his hand, his face glowing +with good-nature.</p> + +<p>Mr. Buffum's attempt to respond to this address ended in a +wheeze and a cough.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Pretty tough old beef, wasn't it?" said Jim, with a hearty +laugh.</p> + +<p>"You go in and see the women," said Mr. Buffum, in a +wheezy whisper.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"If you can take up with what we've got," said Mrs. Buffum +suggestively.</p> + +<p>"In course," responded Jim, "an' I can take up with +what ye haven't got."</p> + +<p>"Our accommodations is very crowded," said Mrs. Buffum.</p> + +<p>"So is mine to home," responded Jim. "I allers sleep +hangin' on a gambrel, between two slabs."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Why, what made it rise so?" inquired the most interested +and eldest Miss Buffum.</p> + +<p>"Now, ain't your purty eyes wide open?" said Jim.</p> + +<p>"You're jest fooling; you know you are," responded Miss +Buffum, blushing.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Now, Jim Fenton, you shall go along and tell your story, +and not keep us on tenter-hooks all night," said Miss Buffum +sharply.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Why, what are you laughing at, father?" exclaimed Miss +Buffum.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It was old Tilden," said Mr. Buffum, and then went off +into another fit of coughing and laughing that nearly strangled +him.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if it was!" seemed to come simultaneously from +the lips of the mother and her daughters.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see him again?" inquired Mr. Buffum.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"That's right," wheezed Mr. Buffum. "It's just as +well."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The women insisted that he ought not to do it. Only those +who understood them, and were used to them, ought to see +them.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"That's right," wheezed Mr. Buffum. "It's just as well."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah," responded the Doctor, "Violence resteth in the +bosom of fools."</p> + +<p>"Well, it wouldn't 'a' rested in my bosom long. I'd 'a' +made a young 'arthquake there in two minutes."</p> + +<p>The Doctor smiled, and said with a sigh:</p> + +<p>"The vulgar mind does not comprehend science."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Science, sir, is the sum of organized and systematized +knowledge," replied the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Not in Sevenoaks," replied the Doctor, with a bitter +smile.</p> + +<p>"Then, what's the use of it?"</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"No," said Jim, "I live on a sort of a medder."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"This is worser nor the town meetin'."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"How are ye now? How do ye feel?" inquired Jim, +tenderly.</p> + +<p>She gave him no answer, but glared at him as if she would +search the very depths of his heart.</p> + +<p>"If ye'll look t'other way, ye'll obleege me," said Jim.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I notice, myself," said Jim, "that she's grated and +barred."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"How fare ye, this mornin'?" inquired Jim, with a voice +full of kindness.</p> + +<p>"I'm just on the verge of eternity," replied the woman.</p> + +<p>"Don't ye be so sure o' that, now," responded Jim. +"Ye're good for ten year yit."</p> + +<p>"No," said the woman, "I shall die in a minute."</p> + +<p>"Does she mean that?" inquired Jim, turning to the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a pity," responded Jim, "that she isn't a scientific +man herself? It might amuse her, you know."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"You speak like a Christian."</p> + +<p>The tears came into Jim's eyes, for he saw in that little +sentence, the cruelty of the treatment she had received.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Look here, old woman, ye jest leave me out of that calkerlation," +said Jim.</p> + +<p>"Will you have the kindness to kill me, sir?" said the +woman.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she responded heartily.</p> + +<p>The Doctor turned to Jim, and said:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fenton," said he, "excuse me, sir, but it's very evident +that you've not had a medical education."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>And Jim seized the Doctor's hand, and gave it a pressure +which raised the little man off the floor.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fenton," said he, "did you ever see a medulla oblongata?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I seen a good many garters," replied the woodsman, +'in the stores, an' I guess they was mostly oblong."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see a solar plexus?" inquired the Doctor, +severely.</p> + +<p>"Dozens of 'em. I allers pick a few in the fall, but I don't +make much use of 'em."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you've seen a pineal gland," suggested the disgusted +Doctor.</p> + +<p>"I make 'em," responded Jim. "I whittle 'em out evenin's, +ye know."</p> + +<p>"If you were in one of these cells," said the Doctor, "I +should think you were as mad as a March hare."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"Jim!" said the man, looking up quickly.</p> + +<p>"Good God! he knows me," said Jim, whimpering. "Yes, +Mr. Benedict, I'm the same rough old fellow. How fare ye?"</p> + +<p>"I'm miserable," replied the man.</p> + +<p>"Well, ye don't look as ef ye felt fust-rate. How did ye +git in here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was damned when I died. It's all right, I know; +but it's terrible."</p> + +<p>"Why, ye don't think ye're in hell, do ye?" inquired +Jim.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see?" inquired the wretch, looking around him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I see! I guess you're right," said Jim, falling +in with his fancy.</p> + +<p>"But where did you come from, Jim? I never heard that +you were dead."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm jest as dead as you be."</p> + +<p>"Well, what did you come here for?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thought I'd call round," replied Jim carelessly.</p> + +<p>"Did you come from Abraham's bosom?" inquired Mr. +Benedict eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Straight."</p> + +<p>"I can't think why you should come to see me, into such +a place as this!" said Benedict, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I got kind o' oneasy. Don't have much to do over +there, ye know."</p> + +<p>"How did you get across the gulf?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Shall I take my rifle along?" inquired Benedict.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jim."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jim."</p> + +<p>"Sure you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jim."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye. Give us your hand. Here's hopin'."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see it," replied the Doctor tartly. He thought he +had shaken off his unpleasant visitor, and his return disturbed +him.</p> + +<p>"Well, Doctor, that has all riz sence I come in here."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" inquired the Doctor, mollified in the +presence of a fact that might prove to be of scientific interest.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Very singular," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Why, this is really very interesting!" said the Doctor, +taking out his note-book. "What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Jim Fenton."</p> + +<p>"Age?"</p> + +<p>"Thirty or forty—somewhere along there."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" exclaimed the Doctor, writing out the whole reply. +"Occupation?"</p> + +<p>"M.D., three C's, double X., two I's."</p> + +<p>"H'm! What do you do?"</p> + +<p>"Trap, mostly."</p> + +<p>"Religious?"</p> + +<p>"When I'm skeered."</p> + +<p>"Nativity?"</p> + +<p>"Which?"</p> + +<p>"What is your parentage? Where were you born?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"How does your head feel now?"</p> + +<p>"It feels as if every har was a pin. Do you s'pose it'll +strike in?"</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"And stay all night?" inquired Jim, innocently.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>"Well, they don't know the difference," said Buffum.</p> + +<p>"Arter a while, I guess they don't," Jim responded; +"an', now, what's the damage? for I've got to go 'long."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" responded the boy, eagerly, "all the time."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, do you know the days—Sunday, Monday, +Tuesday, and the rest of 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, all of them."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, because it's our school holiday," replied Harry.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The boy assured him that he should make no mistake.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>As he plodded along his way, he thought over all the experiences +of the morning.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V" />CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH, JIM ENLARGES HIS ACCOMMODATIONS AND ADOPTS A +VIOLENT METHOD OF SECURING BOARDERS.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Early on Friday morning preceding his proposed descent +upon the poor-house, he gave his orders to Turk.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Harry, how's your pa?" said Jim.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Who did he say that to?" inquired Jim.</p> + +<p>"To me," replied the boy. "And he told me not to speak +to Mr. Buffum about it."</p> + +<p>Jim breathed a sigh of relief, and saying "All right!" he +leaped from the wagon. Then taking out a heavy blanket, he +said:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Paul Benedict, give us your benediction."</p> + +<p>"Jim," responded the man in a whisper, so light that it +could reach no ear but his own.</p> + +<p>"Don't make no noise, not even if I sh'd make consid'able," +said Jim.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Benedict stood at the door.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"They were pretty angry about my going," said he, feebly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jim, "they behaved purty car'less, but I'm +too many for 'em."</p> + +<p>"Does Father Abraham know I'm coming?" inquired +Benedict. "Does he expect me to-night?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Is it very far to the gulf?" inquired Benedict.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mike, this is my particular friend, Benedict. Take 'im +in, an' dry 'im. An' this is 'is boy. Toast 'im both sides—brown."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What place is this, Jim?" said Mr. Benedict.</p> + +<p>"This is the half-way house," responded that personage, +without looking up.</p> + +<p>"Why, this is purgatory, isn't it?" inquired Benedict.</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>"Is it far to the gulf, now?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty mile, and the road is rougher nor a—"</p> + +<p>"'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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>After running along against the current for a mile, Benedict +having quietly rested meantime, looked up and said +weakly:</p> + +<p>"Jim, is this the gulf?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded Jim, cheerfully. "This is the gulf, and +a purty place 'tis too. I've seed a sight o' worser places nor +this."</p> + +<p>"It's very beautiful," responded Benedict. "We must be +getting pretty near."</p> + +<p>"It's not very fur now," said Jim.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>When the boy saw that his father was asleep, he crept back +to Jim and said:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fenton, I don't think it's right for you to tell papa +such lies."</p> + +<p>"Call me Jim. The Doctor called me 'Mr. Fenton,' and +it 'most killed me."</p> + +<p>"Well, Jim."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>This vein of casuistry was new to the boy, and he was staggered.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI" />CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH SEVENOAKS EXPERIENCES A GREAT COMMOTION, AND +COMES TO THE CONCLUSION THAT BENEDICT HAS MET +WITH FOUL PLAY.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Where's that boy?" wheezed the keeper.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Go out, all of you, all round, and find 'em," hoarsely +whispered Mr. Buffum, "and bring 'em back, and say nothing +about it."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Mr. Belcher had risen at his leisure, in +blissful unconsciousness of the calamities that had befallen his +<i>protégé</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"This comes," bitterly complained one of the deacons, +"of a minister's meddling with public affairs."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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 <i>en deshabille</i> he could not have excited more +astonishment or more consternation.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>protégé</i>.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII" />CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH JIM AND MIKE CONLIN PASS THROUGH A GREAT TRIAL +AND COME OUT VICTORIOUS.</p> + + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Jim eyed him with a smile, but he knew that no ordinary +errand had brought Mike to him so quickly.</p> + +<p>"Old Belcher sent ye, did he?" said Jim.</p> + +<p>"Be gorry he did, an' I've come to git a reward. Now, +if ye'll be dacint, ye shall have part of it."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Did ye tell 'im anything, Mike?" inquired Jim, solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Divil a bit."</p> + +<p>"An' ye knowed I'd lick ye if ye did. Ye knowed that, +didn't ye?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Jim watched Mike with tearful eyes, which grew more and +more loaded and luminous as the disgorgement of the contents +of the pack progressed.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Mike," said Jim, "ye hurt me. Here's my hand, an' +honors are easy."</p> + +<p>Mike took the hand without more ado, and then sat back +and told Jim all about it.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mike, "I've got me hundred dollars, and +you'll git yer pay in the nixt wurruld."</p> + +<p>"I don't want no pay," responded Jim. "An' what do +ye know about the next world, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"The praste says there is one," said Mike.</p> + +<p>"The priest be hanged! What does he know about it?"</p> + +<p>"That's his business," said Mike. "It's not for the like +o' me to answer for the praste."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>When Harry came up, with an anxious face, Jim took him +between his knees.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Seizing Mike by the shoulders, he shook him as if he intended +to kill him.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Divil a bit will I do it," responded Mike. "She'll be so +grand I can't live wid her."</p> + +<p>"An' tell her when ye've had yer quarrel," said Jim, +"that there'll allers be a place for her in Number Ten."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Anything."</p> + +<p>"A raal house, all ship-shape for a woman to live in?"</p> + +<p>"Anything."</p> + +<p>"With a little stoop, an' a bureau, an' some chairs, an' a +frame, like, fur posies to run up on?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jim, and a thousand things you never thought of."</p> + +<p>Jim did not pursue the conversation further, but went down +very deep into a brown study.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>protégés</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Miss Butterworth, how fare ye?" said Jim.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I knowed you'd remember me. Women allers does. Be'n +purty chirk this summer?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, I thank you, sir," and Miss Butterworth +dropped a courtesy, and then, sitting down, she pointed him +to a chair.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I've brung a little job fur ye," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I knowed that, but this is a pertickler job."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are all particular jobs," responded Miss Butterworth, +shaking her head.</p> + +<p>"But this is a job fur pertickler folks."</p> + +<p>"Folks are all alike to me," said Miss Butterworth, sharply.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It may be," said the tailoress, thinking, and scratching +the top of her head with a hair-pin, "that I <i>can</i> work it in; +but I haven't the measure."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Miss Butterworth rose to her feet, went up to Jim, and +looked him sharply in the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me anything about Benedict and his boy?"</p> + +<p>"All that any feller knows I know," said Jim, "an' I've +never telled nobody in Sevenoaks."</p> + +<p>"Jim Fenton, you needn't be afraid of me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I ain't. I like ye better nor any woman I seen."</p> + +<p>"But you needn't be afraid to tell me," said Miss Butterworth, +blushing.</p> + +<p>"An' will ye make the clo'es?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll make the clothes, if I make them for nothing, +and sit up nights to do it."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I think you are the noblest man I ever saw," said Miss +Butterworth, trembling with excitement.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Poh! what a spoon you are!" said Miss Butterworth, +tossing her head.</p> + +<p>"Then there's timber enough in me fur the puttiest kind +of a buckle."</p> + +<p>"But you're a blockhead—a great, good blockhead. That's +just what you are," said Miss Butterworth, laughing in spite +of herself.</p> + +<p>"Well, ye can whittle any sort of a head out of a block," +said Jim imperturbably.</p> + +<p>"Let's have done with joking," said the tailoress solemnly.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fenton," she said, looking up—</p> + +<p>"Jest call me Jim."</p> + +<p>"Well, Jim—" and Miss Butterworth smiled through tearful +eyes—"I must tell you that I was once engaged to be +married."</p> + +<p>"Sho! You don't say!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I had everything ready."</p> + +<p>"Now, you don't tell me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and the only man I ever loved died—died a week +before the day we had set."</p> + +<p>"It must have purty near finished ye off."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should have been glad to die myself."</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>As Jim rose, Miss Butterworth also stood up, and looked +up into his face. Jim regarded her with tender admiration.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Miss Butterworth thought she could, and on that promise +Jim remained in Sevenoaks.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Jim departed, and Miss Butterworth went up to her room, +her eyes moist with the effect of the unconscious poetry of +his closing utterance.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII" />CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH MR. BELCHER VISITS NEW YORK, AND BECOMES THE +PROPRIETOR OF "PALGRAVE'S FOLLY."</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>"Toll," said Mr. Belcher deliberately, "I'm going to surprise +you."</p> + +<p>"You usually do," responded the factor, laughing.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Talbot locked the door and resumed his seat.</p> + +<p>"Sevenoaks be hanged!" said Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"It's a one-horse town."</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Still, I have been under the impression that +you owned the horse."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, but the horse is played out."</p> + +<p>"Hasn't he been a pretty good horse, and earned you all +he cost you?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"But you're the king of the roost," said Talbot.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but a man gets tired being king of the roost, and +longs for some rooster to fight."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Good thing, isn't it, Toll?"</p> + +<p>"Excellent!"</p> + +<p>"And you'll stand by me, Toll?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, by-by, Toll," said Mr. Belcher, giving him his left +hand again. "I'll be 'round at twelve."</p> + +<p>Mr. Talbot went out, but instead of going to his office, +went straight home, and surprised Mrs. Talbot by his sudden +reappearance.</p> + +<p>"What on earth!"—said she, looking up from a bit of +embroidery on which she was dawdling away her morning.</p> + +<p>"Kate, who do you suppose is coming to New York to live?"</p> + +<p>"The Great Mogul."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the Great Mogul—otherwise, Colonel Robert Belcher."</p> + +<p>"Heaven help us!" exclaimed the lady.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what's to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! my! my! my!" exclaimed Mrs. Talbot, her +possessive pronoun stumbling and fainting away without +reaching its object. "<i>Must</i> we have that bear in the house? +Does it pay?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Kate, it pays," said Mr. Talbot.</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose that settles it."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I remembered your weakness, you see," said Talbot.</p> + +<p>"Toll, you're a jewel," said Mr. Belcher, drawing out one +of the fragrant rolls and lighting it.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Toll, I tell you you're a jewel."</p> + +<p>"And you'll come?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I'll risk you anywhere."</p> + +<p>"All right! I'll be there."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You have determined, then, to buy the house at the +price?" said Talbot.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I shall just shut my eyes and swallow the whole +thing."</p> + +<p>"Would you like to get it cheaper?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"That's one of the tricks, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then go ahead."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>After their return to the hotel, Mr. Talbot sat down to a +table, and went through a long calculation.</p> + +<p>"It will cost you, Mr. Belcher," said the factor, deliberately, +"at least twenty-five thousand dollars to furnish that +house satisfactorily."</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher gave a long whistle.</p> + +<p>"At least twenty-five thousand dollars, and I doubt whether +you get off for less than thirty thousand."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm in for it, and I'm going through," said Mr. +Belcher.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Belcher; "show me the man."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher was introduced, and the arbiter of style conversed +learnedly of Tuscan, Pompeiian, Elizabethan, Louis +Quatorze, buhl, <i>marqueterie</i>, &.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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>The arbiter of style smiled pityingly, and admitted that he +comprehended his customer.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX" />CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p>MRS. TALBOT GIVES HER LITTLE DINNER PARTY, AND MR. BELCHER +MAKES AN EXCEEDINGLY PLEASANT ACQUAINTANCE.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>au fait</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>en régle</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"My dear Kate," said Mrs. Dillingham, "give me the +privilege of showing Mr. Belcher some of your beautiful +things."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," responded Mrs. Talbot, her face flushing, +"and don't forget yourself, my child, among the rest."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham pressed Mr. Belcher's arm, an action which +said: "Oh, the jealous creature!"</p> + +<p>They went from painting to painting, and sculpture to +sculpture, and then, over a cabinet of bric-à-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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>gaucheries</i> 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!</p> + +<p>When the gentlemen returned to the drawing-room, and +disturbed the confidential <i>tête-à-tête</i> of these new friends, Mrs. +Dillingham declared it was time to go, and Mr. Belcher insisted +on seeing her home in his own carriage.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mounting to his rooms, he lit every burner in his parlor, +and then surveyed himself in the mirror.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X" />CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Jim Fenton, who had lain still for several days, and was +full of his schemes for Mr. Balfour and his protégés 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"Jim," said Mr. Benedict, struggling to retain his composure, +"I can never repay your overwhelming kindness, and +the fact oppresses me."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Then he enlarged upon the accomplishments of Benedict's +boy.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Where is the other little feller that ye used to brag over, +Mr. Balfour?" inquired Jim.</p> + +<p>"He's gone, Jim; I lost him. He died a year ago."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Give us some o' that, Mr. Balfour."</p> + +<p>Mr. Balfour looked up and smiled, and then read to him +the parable of the talents.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You must remember, Jim, that all he needed was to ask +for wisdom in order to receive it," said Mr. Benedict.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I don't see," said Mr. Balfour, laughing, and turning to +Mr. Benedict, "but we've had the exposition of our Scripture."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>All these preparations were familiar to Mr. Balfour, and, +loading his heavy shot-gun with a powerful charge, he waited +impatiently for the darkness.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Jim knew the buck, and knew that any delay on his account +would be useless.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>All became still, as Jim turned his boat up the stream again. +After proceeding for ten or fifteen minutes in perfect silence, +Jim whispered:</p> + +<p>"Skin yer eyes, now, Mr. Balfour; we're comin' to a lick."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI" />CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<p>WHICH RECORDS MR. BELCHER'S CONNECTION WITH A GREAT +SPECULATION AND BRINGS TO A CLOSE HIS RESIDENCE IN +SEVENOAKS.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>per +diem</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Robert, you have determined to kill me," she said, almost +fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Sarah; not quite so bad as that."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Put it through, Sarah; you have the floor, and I'm ready +to take it all now."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"No; they would blame me, and I must go, whether I +wish to go or not."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, by-by, Sarah. You'll feel better about it."</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Belcher stooped and kissed her forehead, and +left her.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I want to see it!" said Miss Butterworth, without the +slightest indication of the object of her curiosity.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, that beats me!" exclaimed Miss Butterworth. +"What do you suppose the old snake wants now?"</p> + +<p>"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 <i>does</i> he want?"</p> + +<p>"You'll find out some time. Take my word for it, he has +a large axe to grind."</p> + +<p>"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 <i>in toto</i> (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."</p> + +<p>Miss Butterworth sat during the speech, and trotted her +knee. She had no faith in the paper, and she frankly said so.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What would you do if you were in my place?" inquired +Mrs. Snow. "Would you send it back to him?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," was responded, almost in unison.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII" />CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH JIM ENLARGES HIS PLANS FOR A HOUSE, AND COMPLETES +HIS PLANS FOR A HOUSE-KEEPER.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>"What did he say to that?" inquired Mr. Benedict.</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>Then Jim put his head down between his knees, and thought. +When it emerged from its hiding his eyes were moist, and he +said:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Jim, just what the trouble is," said his architect, +"for I see there's something wanting."</p> + +<p>"I don't see," said Jim, "jest where ye're goin' to +put 'im."</p> + +<p>"Who do you mean? Mr. Balfour?"</p> + +<p>"No; I don't mean no man."</p> + +<p>"Harry? Thede?"</p> + +<p>"No; I mean, s'posin'. Can't we put on an ell when we +want it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Benedict not only could do this, but he did it; and +then Jim took it, and looked at it for a long time.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Did ye know, Jim," said Mike, to change the subject, +"that owld Belcher has gone to New Yorrk to live?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Yis, the whole kit an' boodle of 'em is gone, an' the +purty man wid 'em."</p> + +<p>"Hallelujer!" roared Jim.</p> + +<p>"Yis, and be gorry he's got me hundred dollars," said +Mike.</p> + +<p>"What did ye gi'en it to 'im for, Mike? I didn't take +ye for a fool."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Divil a bit will ye see agin," said Jim, shaking his head. +"Mike, ye're a fool."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Clear off yer table," said Jim, "an' peel yer eyes, Mike, +for I'm goin' to show ye somethin' that'll s'prise ye."</p> + +<p>When his order was obeyed, he unrolled the precious +plans.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mike looked at it all earnestly, and with a degree of awe, +and then shook his head.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mike," said he, in an injured tone, "that stoop's +the place where she's agoin' to set."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>They remained with the proprietor of the mill during the +night.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"It's all right. The little woman's in, an' waitin'. Can +you see my har?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"How fare ye, little woman?" said he. "I'm glad to see +ye—gladder nor I can tell ye."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Miss Butterworth looked inquiringly, and with some embarrassment +at the stranger.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>protégé</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Jim, "but we ain't goin' home to-morrer."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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'—"</p> + +<p>"And provide for me. No, that won't do, Jim."</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better think on't."</p> + +<p>"No, Jim, I shall never marry again."</p> + +<p>"Now's yer time. Nobody knows what'll happen afore +mornin'."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benedict tore himself away, but Jim said, "hold on a +bit."</p> + +<p>Benedict turned, and then Jim inquired:</p> + +<p>"Have ye got a piece of Indian rubber?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benedict promised to attend to the matter before he +slept, and then Jim went back into the house.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>The "little woman" accepted the suggestion, and admitted +that it would at least make the building look more like a +hotel.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII" />CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<p>WHICH INTRODUCES SEVERAL RESIDENTS OF SEVENOAKS TO THE +METROPOLIS AND A NEW CHARACTER TO THE READER.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham shook her lovely head.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I take a great fancy to Mrs. Belcher?"</p> + +<p>"Do you, really?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I think your imagination had something to do with +it," said Mr. Belcher, although he knew that she was +right.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham took out her handkerchief, near a street +lamp, and wiped her eyes.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Stop, Harry, I want to speak to you," said the proprietor, +sharply.</p> + +<p>Harry stopped, as if frozen to the spot in mortal terror.</p> + +<p>"Come along," said Thede Balfour, tugging at his hand, +"you'll be late at school."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Placing Harry in a chair, Mr. Belcher sat down opposite +to him, and said:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The lad hid his hands behind his back, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you won't take it!" said the +proprietor in a wheedling tone.</p> + +<p>The boy kept his hands behind him, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The boy simply shook his head.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>must</i> 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?"</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"I won't tell you."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I won't tell you, if you kill me."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dillingham was here," remarked Mrs. Belcher, +quietly.</p> + +<p>"But she was no friend of yours."</p> + +<p>"No; Mr. Belcher had met her."</p> + +<p>"How strange! How very strange!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know her well?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 coupé, and drove away.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Yours, JAMES BALFOUR,</p> + +<p>"Counselor-at-Law."</p> + +<p>"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. "<i>That</i> 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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Show him up."</p> + +<p>The servant hesitated, and finally said: "He doesn't smell +very well, sir."</p> + +<p>"What does he smell of?" inquired Mr. Belcher, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Rum, sir, and several things."</p> + +<p>"Send him away, then."</p> + +<p>"I tried to, sir, but he says he knows you, and wants to +see you on particular business."</p> + +<p>"Take him into the basement, and tell him I'll be down +soon."</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher exhausted his cigar, tossed the stump into the +fire, and, muttering to himself, "Who the devil!" went down +to meet his caller.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, you look as if you were waiting to be damned," +said Mr. Belcher, roughly.</p> + +<p>"I am, sir," responded the man solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Very well; consider the business done, so far as I am +concerned, and clear out."</p> + +<p>"I am the most miserable of men, Mr. Belcher."</p> + +<p>"I believe you; and you'll excuse me if I say that your +appearance corroborates your statement."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"No; I never saw you before. That game won't work, and +now be off."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Do you pretend to say that you are Sam Yates, the lawyer?"</p> + +<p>"The same, at your service."</p> + +<p>"What brought you to this?"</p> + +<p>"Drink, and bad company, sir."</p> + +<p>"And you want money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" exclaimed the man, with a hiss as fierce as if he +were a serpent.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to earn money?"</p> + +<p>"Anything to get it."</p> + +<p>"Anything to get drink, I suppose. You said 'anything.' +Did you mean that?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Lift me out of the gutter," said he, "and keep me out, +and—command me."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"Should you know him again, were you to see him?"</p> + +<p>'I think I should."</p> + +<p>"Do you know you should? I don't want any thinking +about it. Could you swear to him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I don't think it would trouble me to swear to him."</p> + +<p>"If I were to show you some of his handwriting, do you +suppose that would help you any?"</p> + +<p>"It—might."</p> + +<p>"I don't want any 'mights.' Do you know it would?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to sell yourself—body, soul, brains, legal +knowledge, everything—for money?"</p> + +<p>"I've sold myself already at a smaller price, and I don't +mind withdrawing from the contract for a better."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I can keep sober—for a while—any way," said the man, +hesitatingly and half despairingly.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>The man tried to smile, but the effort was a failure.</p> + +<p>"What did you take for a night-cap last night, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I give you my word of honor, sir, that I have not taken +a drop since I saw you."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Very well; my word of dishonor," responded the man, +desperately.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I do not forget it, sir, and I see that I am not likely to."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV" />CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<p>WHICH TELLS OF A GREAT PUBLIC MEETING IN SEVENOAKS, THE +BURNING IN EFFIGY OF MR. BELCHER, AND THAT GENTLEMAN'S +INTERVIEW WITH A REPORTER.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>auto-da-fé</i> with a crowd of +village urchins dancing around it.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Then, with an amused smile upon his broad face, he wrote +the following letter:</p> + +<p>"TO THE REVEREND SOLOMON SNOW,</p> + +<p>"<i>Dear Sir</i>: 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.</p> + +<p>"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,</p> + +<p>"I am your affectionate parishioner,</p> + +<p>"ROBERT BELCHER."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.'"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"The Riot at Sevenoaks!!!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"An interesting Interview with Col. Belcher!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"The original account grossly Exaggerated!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The whole matter an outburst of Personal Envy!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">"The Palgrave Mansion in a fume!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"Tar, feathers and fagots!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">"A Tempest in a Tea-pot!</span><br /> +"Petroleum in a blaze, and a thousand fingers burnt!!!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">"Stand out from under!!!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"<i>Reporter</i>: 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?</p> + +<p>"<i>Answer</i>: I have, and a pretty mess was made of it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Reporter:</i> Do you declare the report to be incorrect?</p> + +<p>"<i>Answer:</i> I know nothing about the correctness or the +incorrectness of the report, for I was not there.</p> + +<p>"<i>Reporter:</i> Were the accusations made against yourself correct, +presuming that they were fairly and truthfully reported?</p> + +<p>"<i>Answer:</i> They were so far from being correct that +nothing could be more untruthful or more malicious.</p> + +<p>"<i>Reporter:</i> Have you any objection to telling me the true +state of the case in detail?</p> + +<p>"<i>Answer:</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"<i>Reporter:</i> How about the petroleum?</p> + +<p>"<i>Answer:</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"<i>Reporter:</i> And that is all you have to say?</p> + +<p>"<i>Answer:</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"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.'</p> + +<p> +"None see it but to love it,<br /> +None name it but to praise.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>Col. Belcher read the report with genuine pleasure, and +then, turning over the leaf, read upon the editorial page the +following:</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV" />CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<p>WHICH TELLS ABOUT MRS. DILLINGHAM'S CHRISTMAS AND THE +NEW YEAR'S RECEPTION AT THE PALGRAVE MANSION.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sarah, what sort of a Christmas have you had?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I've just been over to call on Mrs. Dillingham," said he.</p> + +<p>"Ah?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I thought I would drop in and give her the compliments +of the season. She's rather lonely, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"So am I."</p> + +<p>"Well now, Sarah, there's a difference; you know there is. +You have your children, and—"</p> + +<p>"And she my husband."</p> + +<p>"Well, she's an agreeable woman, and I must go out sometimes. +My acquaintance with agreeable women in New York +is not very large."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ask your wife to go with you? I'm fond +of agreeable women too."</p> + +<p>"You are not fond of her, and I'm afraid she suspects it."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, it certainly isn't her fault that men go to see her +without their wives. Don't be unfair now, my dear."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You place me in a very awkward position, my dear," +said he, determined, as long as possible, to maintain an amiable +mood.</p> + +<p>"And she has placed me in one which you are helping +to fasten upon me, and not at all helping to relieve me +from."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I have some rights in this house myself, my dear, and I +fancy that my wishes are deserving of respect, at least."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I shall tell her nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"You can say no less, if you tell her the truth."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you are angry. Let's not talk about it any +more to-night. You will feel differently about it in the +morning."</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Don't be gone long," said the latter to Mrs. Belcher, as +she left the room.</p> + +<p>"Be gone till to-morrow morning," said Mr. Belcher, in a +whisper at Mrs. Dillingham's ear.</p> + +<p>"You're a wretch," said the lady.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"My roses are all faded," she said—"worth nothing to me—worth +nothing to anybody—except you."</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You startled me so!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Are you always to be startled so easily?"</p> + +<p>"Here? yes."</p> + +<p>"Everywhere?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Perhaps so."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"For what?"</p> + +<p>"For the perhaps."</p> + +<p>"You are easily pleased and grateful for nothing; and, now, +tell me who lives opposite to you?"</p> + +<p>"A lawyer by the name of James Balfour."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Not he."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"He has the honor to be an enemy of mine, and knows +that I would rather choke him than eat my dinner."</p> + +<p>"You men are such savages; but aren't those nice boys on +the steps?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible? Which one, now?"</p> + +<p>"The larger."</p> + +<p>"But, isn't he lovely?"</p> + +<p>"He's a Sevenoaks pauper."</p> + +<p>"You astonish me."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about it now," said Mrs. Dillingham, her eyes +alight with genuine interest.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Candid and complimentary," she sighed.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you are talking very strangely to me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm talking business. Is that a strange thing to a +woman?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Now, Sarah, haven't we had a nice day?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Very pleasant, indeed."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you've been wonderfully good," remarked his wife.</p> + +<p>"Men are such angels!" said Mrs. Dillingham.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Good-night; don't get out," and she flew up the steps +and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI" />CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<p>WHICH GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF A VOLUNTARY AND AN INVOLUNTARY +VISIT OF SAM YATES TO NUMBER NINE.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I suppose this ends it," said Yates, as he read his report, +and passed it over into Mr. Belcher's hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do!"</p> + +<p>"I do not see how I can be of further use to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't!"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Then we've found that we have a profession, have we? +We've become highly respectable."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Sam Yates, I took you out of the gutter. Do you know +that?"</p> + +<p>"I do, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear of my doing such a thing as that +before?"</p> + +<p>"I never did."</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose I did it for?"</p> + +<p>"To serve yourself."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"What have you to say to it? Are you going to live up +to your pledge, or are you going to break with me?"</p> + +<p>"If I could furnish such an instrument honorably, I would +do it."</p> + +<p>"Hm! I tell you, Sam Yates, this sort of thing won't do."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Oh God! Oh God!" he exclaimed, and buried his face +in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Fudge!" said Mr. Belcher. "What do you make an ass +of yourself for?"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher was surprised, but he had secured the promise +he was after, and so he coolly rose and removed the offensive +temptation.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Where's Jim Fenton?" said Yates.</p> + +<p>"That's me. Them as likes me calls me Jim, and them as +don't like me—wall, they don't call."</p> + +<p>"Well, I've called, and I call you Jim."</p> + +<p>"All right; let's see yer tackle," said Jim.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"No," said Yates, flushing; "I thought I should find near +you the tackle used here, so I didn't burden myself."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm Number Eleven, and my name's Williams, too."</p> + +<p>"Then, if yer name's Williams, an' ye're Number 'leven, +ye want some supper. Set down an' help yerself."</p> + +<p>Before taking his seat, Yates turned laughingly to Mr. +Benedict, shook his hand, and "hoped for a better acquaintance."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What brung ye here?" said he.</p> + +<p>"A pair of horses and a birch canoe."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I didn't know but 'twas a mule and a bandanner +hankercher," said Jim; "and whar be ye goin' to sleep to-night?"</p> + +<p>"In the canoe, I suppose, if some hospitable man doesn't +invite me to sleep in his cabin."</p> + +<p>"An' if ye sleep in his cabin, what be ye goin' to do to-morrer?"</p> + +<p>"Get up."</p> + +<p>"An' clear out?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Jim, did you ever hear of entertaining angels unaware?" +and Yates looked laughingly into his face.</p> + +<p>"No, but I've hearn of angels entertainin' theirselves on +tin-ware, an' I've had 'em here."</p> + +<p>"Do you have tin peddlers here?" inquired Yates, looking +around him.</p> + +<p>"No, but we have paupers sometimes," and Jim looked +Yates directly in the eye.</p> + +<p>"What paupers?"</p> + +<p>"From Sevenoaks."</p> + +<p>"And do they bring tin-ware?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Rather bushy, Jim."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's the time it come up, an' it's never been tired +enough to lay down sence."</p> + +<p>"What became of Gabriel?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see him afterward?" inquired Yates.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Yates did not laugh, but manifested the most eager interest.</p> + +<p>"Jim," said he, "can you show me his bones, and swear +to your belief that he was an escaped pauper?"</p> + +<p>"Easy."</p> + +<p>"Was there a man lost from the poor-house about that +time?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, the man you buried is the man I'm after."</p> + +<p>"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 <i>he</i> is. Ye +must feel mighty proud o' yer belongins."</p> + +<p>"Jim, I'm a lawyer; it's my business. I do what I'm +hired to do."</p> + +<p>"Well," responded Jim, "I don't know nothin' about +lawyers, but I'd rather be a natural born cuss nor a hired +one."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Now, how be ye goin' to get back to Sevenoaks?" inquired +Jim.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. The man who brought me in is not to +come for me for a fortnight."</p> + +<p>"Then ye've got to huff it," responded Jim.</p> + +<p>"It's a long way."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"The row and the walk will be too much."</p> + +<p>"I'll take ye to the landing," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to pay you for the job," responded Yates.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, have your own way," said Yates.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What the devil ye thinkin' on?" inquired Jim at last.</p> + +<p>Yates looked him in the eyes, and replied coolly:</p> + +<p>"I was thinking how well Benedict is looking."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Now, Sam Yates, turn this boat round."</p> + +<p>Yates was surprised in turn, bit his lips, and hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Turn this boat round, or I'll fix ye so't I can see through +ye plainer nor I do now."</p> + +<p>"Surely, Jim, you don't mean to have me row back. I +haven't harmed you."</p> + +<p>"Turn this boat round, quicker nor lightnin'."</p> + +<p>"There, it's turned," said Yates, assuming a smile.</p> + +<p>"Now row back to Number Nine."</p> + +<p>"Come, Jim," said Yates, growing pale with vexation and +apprehension, "this fooling has gone far enough."</p> + +<p>"Not by ten mile," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"You surely don't mean to take me back. You have no +right to do it. I can prosecute you for this."</p> + +<p>"Not if I put a bullet through ye, or drown ye."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to have me row back to Number Nine?"</p> + +<p>"I mean to have you row back to Number Nine, or go to +the bottom leakin'," responded Jim.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII" />CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH JIM CONSTRUCTS TWO HAPPY DAVIDS, RAISES HIS +HOTEL, AND DISMISSES SAM YATES.</p> + + +<p>When the boat touched the bank, Jim, still with his rifle +pointed at the breast of Sam Yates, said:</p> + +<p>"Now git out, an' take a bee line for the shanty, an' see +how many paces ye make on't."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Benedict looked from one to the other with mingled surprise +and consternation, and then said:</p> + +<p>"Jim, what does this mean?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"No, Turk; he's my game," said Jim. "Ye couldn't eat +'im no more nor ye could a muss rat."</p> + +<p>There were just three seats in the cabin—two camp-stools +and a chest.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Yates looked at the chest and hesitated.</p> + +<p>"It ain't powder," said Jim, "but it'll blow ye worse nor +powder, if ye don't tell the truth."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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> + +<p>"P'raps I hadn't," responded Jim, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>Yates went on:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Ye talk reasonable," said Jim; "but how be I goin' to +know that ye're tellin' the truth?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I've a good mind to lick ye now," said Jim, on hearing +himself defied.</p> + +<p>"You would be a fool to undertake it," said Yates.</p> + +<p>"Well, what be ye goin' to tell old Belcher, anyway?" +inquired Jim.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"That's the truth," said Jim. "Benedict ain't no pauper, +nor hain't been since he left the poor-house."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Old Belcher ain't no fool," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Benedict had nothing to say for this, for there was what he +felt to be a just reproach in it.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What would you have me do?" inquired Yates.</p> + +<p>"I want to have ye sw'ar, an' sign a Happy David."</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A Happy David. Ye ain't no lawyer if ye don't know +what a Happy David is, and can't make one."</p> + +<p>Yates recognized, with a smile, the nature of the instrument +disguised in Jim's pronunciation and conception, and inquired:</p> + +<p>"What would you have me to swear to?"</p> + +<p>"To what I tell ye."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Be ye ready?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>Jim paused, and Yates, having completed the sentence, +waited. Then Jim muttered to himself:</p> + +<p>"With his name <i>as</i> Benedict—with his name <i>is</i> Benedict—with +his name <i>was</i> Benedict."</p> + +<p>Then with a puzzled look, he said:</p> + +<p>"Yates, can't ye doctor that a little?"</p> + +<p>"Whose name was Benedict," suggested Yates.</p> + +<p>"Whose name was Benedict," continued Jim. "Now read +it over, as fur as ye've got."</p> + +<p>"'I solemnly swear that I have seen no pauper in the +woods whose name was Benedict.'"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>"Done," said Yates, "but it isn't grammar."</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>Jim thought a moment. He had wrought out a large phrase.</p> + +<p>"I guess," said he, "that covers the thing. Ye understand, +don't ye, Yates, about the privlidge of self-defense?"</p> + +<p>"You mean that I may defend myself if I can, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. With the privlidge of self-defense. That's fair, +an' I'd give it to a painter. Now read it all over."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Yates laughed, and said that he believed he understood the +nature of an oath.</p> + +<p>"Then sign yer Happy David," said Jim.</p> + +<p>Yates wrote his name, and passed the paper into Jim's +hands.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he, "I want to do a little sw'arin' myself, +and I want ye to write it."</p> + +<p>Yates resumed his pen, and declared himself to be in readiness.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Yates replied that he had.</p> + +<p>"I'm a goin' to sign that, an' ye can take it along with ye. +Swap seats."</p> + +<p>Yates rose, and Jim seated himself upon the chest.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Is the business all settled?" inquired Yates.</p> + +<p>"Clean," replied Jim.</p> + +<p>"When am I to have the liberty to go out of the woods?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Be gorry, Jim, ye must make us a spache," said Mike +Conlin. "Ye've plenty iv blarney; now out wid it."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"A speech! a speech!" came from a dozen tongues.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yates! Yates!" arose on all sides.</p> + +<p>Yates was at home in any performance of this kind, and, +mounting a low stump, said:</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII" />CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH MRS. DILLINGHAM MAKES SOME IMPORTANT DISCOVERIES, +BUT FAILS TO REVEAL THEM TO THE READER.</p> + + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>She led him to her seat, giving him none, but sitting with +her arm around him, as he stood at her side.</p> + +<p>"You are my little lover, aren't you?" she said, with an +embrace.</p> + +<p>"Not so very little!" responded Harry, with a flush.</p> + +<p>"Well, you love me, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I do," replied he, looking smilingly into her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"You are a rogue, sir."</p> + +<p>"I'm not a bad rogue."</p> + +<p>"Kiss me."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"And your name is Harry?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind telling me about yourself?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"If you'll never tell."</p> + +<p>"I will never tell, Harry."</p> + +<p>"Never, never tell?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"You are Mr. Belcher's friend, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I know Mr. Belcher."</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Belcher should tell you that he would kill you if +you didn't tell, what would you do?"</p> + +<p>"I should call the police," responded Mrs. Dillingham, +with a smile.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"My poor, dear boy! My dear, dear child! And Mr. +Belcher could have helped it all! Curse him!"</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Still the lady knelt, and pleaded for his forgiveness.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that ladies ever said such words," said +Harry.</p> + +<p>"Ladies who have little boys to love them never do," responded +Mrs. Dillingham.</p> + +<p>"If I love you, shall you ever speak so again?" inquired +Harry.</p> + +<p>"Never, with you and God to help me," she responded.</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet, led the boy to her chair, and once +more held him in her embrace.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Harry Benedict."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill?" with a voice of alarm.</p> + +<p>The blood mounted to her face again.</p> + +<p>"It was a bad turn," she said. "Don't mind it. I'm +better now."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it better for me to sit in a chair?" he inquired, +trying to rise.</p> + +<p>She tightened her grasp upon him.</p> + +<p>"No, no. I am better with you here. I wish you were +never to leave me."</p> + +<p>Again they sat a long time in silence. Then she said:</p> + +<p>"Harry, can you write?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Excited by the interview with the lad, and the prescience +of its waiting <i>dénouement</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 cañons 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I did not know that he had been with you," said Mrs. +Balfour, coolly.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Did you find out anything of the boy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, some things, but none that it would be of advantage +to you to know."</p> + +<p>"Well, stick to him, now that you have got hold of him."</p> + +<p>"I intend to."</p> + +<p>"Good for you!"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You can work it out of him. I'll risk you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham could hardly restrain her impatience, but +said quietly:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX" />CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH MR. BELCHER BECOMES PRESIDENT OF THE CROOKED +VALLEY RAILROAD, WITH LARGE "TERMINAL FACILITIES," +AND MAKES AN ADVENTURE INTO A LONG-MEDITATED +CRIME.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>One morning, after the brokers and the General's lawyer +were gone, Talbot entered, and found his principal still in +bed.</p> + +<p>"Toll, it's a big thing," said Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>"I believe you."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well."</p> + +<p>"Why don't we see more of her?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, nonsense, Toll! She mustn't feel that +way. I like her. She is a devilish handsome woman."</p> + +<p>"I shall tell her that you say so," said the obsequious Mr. +Talbot.</p> + +<p>"Toll, my boy, I've got an idea."</p> + +<p>"Cherish it, General; you may never have another."</p> + +<p>"Good for you. I owe you one."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, General. I'm only paying off old debts."</p> + +<p>"Toll, how are you doing now? Getting a living?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't told me about your idea," Mr. Talbot +suggested.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You might buy up a European kingdom or two, at a +pinch, General."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but, Toll, you don't know what terminal facilities +I've got for a railroad."</p> + +<p>"Your pocket will answer for one end," said Talbot, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Have you selected the toy you propose to purchase?" +inquired Talbot.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"That's a pity."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Poor road, and wants connections."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Talbot laughed.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you need any suggestions from me," he +said.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Talbot turned to leave the room, when Mr. Belcher arrested +him with the question:</p> + +<p>"Toll, would you like an office in the Crooked Valley corporation?"</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"No, I thank you; I have all I can do to take care of your +goods, and I am not ambitious."</p> + +<p>"There'll be nothing for you to do, you know. I shall +run the whole thing."</p> + +<p>"I can serve you better, General, where I am."</p> + +<p>"Well, by-by; I won't urge you."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>employé</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dillingham," he said, "I have been waiting to hear +something about your pauper <i>protégé</i>, and I have come to-night +to find out what you know about him and his father."</p> + +<p>"If I knew of anything that would be of real advantage to +you, I would tell you, but I do not," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's an old story. Tell that to the marines. I'm +sick of it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham's face flushed.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You have taken me for, Mr. Belcher?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing offensive. Don't roll up your pretty eyes in +that way."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham was getting angry.</p> + +<p>"Please don't address me in that way again," she said.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I like him, and he is fond of me."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how that helps me," responded Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>"It is enough for me that I enjoy it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," with an emphatic nod of the head.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you think that will go down with me. Perhaps +you are not acquainted with my way of doing business."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Belcher's turn to color.</p> + +<p>"No, I will not. I trust no woman with my affairs. I +keep my own councils."</p> + +<p>"Then do your own business," snappishly.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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 <i>must</i> do it! Do you hear? You <i>must</i> do it! +Eh? do you hear? Sit down, sir! Down with you, sir! +and don't you rise again until the thing is done."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Then he rang his bell and called for Phipps. When Phipps +appeared, he said:</p> + +<p>"Well, Phipps, what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, sir," and Phipps smiled.</p> + +<p>"Very well; help yourself."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," and Phipps rubbed his hands.</p> + +<p>"How are you getting along in New York, Phipps?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir."</p> + +<p>"Big thing to be round with the General, isn't it? It's a +touch above Sevenoaks, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Get enough to eat down-stairs?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty."</p> + +<p>"Good clothes to wear?"</p> + +<p>"Very good," and Phipps looked down upon his toilet with +great satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Stolen mostly from the General, eh?"</p> + +<p>Phipps giggled.</p> + +<p>"That's all; you can go. I only wanted to see if you were +in the house, and well taken care of."</p> + +<p>Phipps started to go. "By the way, Phipps, have you a +good memory?—first-rate memory?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Can you remember everything that happened, a—say, six +years ago?"</p> + +<p>"I can try," said Phipps, with an intelligent glance into +Mr. Belcher's eyes.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," replied Phipps.</p> + +<p>"And do you remember that I said to you, after they were +gone, that that paper gave me all of Benedict's patent +rights?"</p> + +<p>Phipps looked up at the ceiling, and then said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, and I remember that I said, 'It will make you +very rich, won't it, Mr. Belcher?'"</p> + +<p>"And what did I reply to you?"</p> + +<p>"You said, 'That remains to be seen.'"</p> + +<p>"All right. Do you suppose you should know that paper +if you were to see it?"</p> + +<p>"I think I should—after I'd seen it once."</p> + +<p>"Well, there it is—suppose you take a look at it."</p> + +<p>"I remember it by two blots in the corner, and the red +lines down the side."</p> + +<p>"You didn't write your own name, did you?"</p> + +<p>"It seems to me I did."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you examine the paper, under James Ramsey's +name, and see whether yours is there."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It is here, sir."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And all this was done in my library, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"How did you happen to be there when these other men +were there?"</p> + +<p>"You called me in, sir."</p> + +<p>"All right! You never smoke, Phipps?"</p> + +<p>"Never in the stable, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, lay these cigars away where you have laid the rest +of 'em, and go to bed."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX" />CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH "THE LITTLE WOMAN" ANNOUNCES HER ENGAGEMENT +TO JIM FENTON AND RECEIVES THE CONGRATULATIONS +OF HER FRIENDS.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"What do you think of that, Jim?" said Benedict, smiling, +and handing him a check for five hundred dollars that the +letter had inclosed.</p> + +<p>Jim looked it over and read it through with undisguised +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Did she gin it to ye?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"An' be ye a goin' to keep it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm going to keep it."</p> + +<p>Jim was evidently doubtful touching the delicacy both of +tendering and receiving such a gift.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose I would leave you now, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, I shall stay with you, Jim."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Still, I shall stay with you, Jim."</p> + +<p>"All right; here's hopin', an' here's my hand."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's too ridiculous for anything," said Miss Butterworth, +laughing herself almost into hysterics.</p> + +<p>"Now, what, Keziah? What's too ridiculous? You <i>are</i> +the most provoking person!"</p> + +<p>"The idea of my getting married!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Snow jumped up and seized Miss Butterworth's hands, +and said:</p> + +<p>"Why, Keziah Butterworth! You don't tell me! You +wicked, deceitful creature!"</p> + +<p>The three Misses Snow all jumped up with their mother, +and pressed around the merry object of their earnest congratulations.</p> + +<p>"So unexpected and strange, you know," said the oldest.</p> + +<p>"So very unexpected!" said the second.</p> + +<p>"And so very strange, too!" echoed Number Three.</p> + +<p>"Well, it <i>is</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"Well, Keziah, I hope you'll be very happy. Indeed I +do," said Mrs. Snow, becoming motherly.</p> + +<p>"Happy all your life," said Miss Snow.</p> + +<p>"Very happy," said Number Two.</p> + +<p>"All your life long," rounded up the complement of good +wishes from the lips of the youngest of the trio.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>are</i> you going to +do with that man? How <i>are</i> 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!"</p> + +<p>"Why, isn't he nice?" inquired Mrs. Snow.</p> + +<p>"Nice! He's as rough as a hemlock tree."</p> + +<p>"What do you marry him for?" inquired Mrs. Snow in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know. I've asked myself the question +a thousand times."</p> + +<p>"Don't you want to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I guess I do."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs. Snow, soberly, "This is a very +solemn thing."</p> + +<p>"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?'"</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe you are a ridiculous creature," said Mrs. +Snow.</p> + +<p>"I know I am, and if anybody had told me a year ago that +I should ever marry Jim Fenton, I—"</p> + +<p>"Jim Fenton!" exclaimed the whole Snow family.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Now, you mustn't be offended, Keziah. We are all your +friends, and anxious for your welfare."</p> + +<p>"But you think Jim Fenton is a brute."</p> + +<p>"I have said nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"But you think so."</p> + +<p>"I think you ought to know him better than I do."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure!" exclaimed Mrs. Snow.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it remarkable!" said Miss Snow.</p> + +<p>"Quite delightful!" exclaimed the second sister, whose +enthusiasm could not be crammed into Miss Snow's expression.</p> + +<p>"Really charming," added Number Three.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I'm inclined to think you love him," said Mrs. Snow, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Isn't it the most ridiculous thing, +now?"</p> + +<p>"No; it isn't ridiculous at all," said Mrs. Snow, soberly.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"You are not going," said Mrs. Snow, catching her by +both shoulders, "so sit down."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"When are you to be married?"</p> + +<p>"In the spring."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! anywhere. No matter where. I haven't thought +about that part of it."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll be married right here, in this house. You +shall have a nice little wedding."</p> + +<p>"Oh! and orange-blossoms!" exclaimed Miss Snow, clapping +her hands.</p> + +<p>"And a veil!" added Number Two.</p> + +<p>"And a—" Number Three was not so familiar with such +occasions as to be able to supply another article, so she +clapped her hands.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Then they all sat down again, to talk over the matter of +clothes. Miss Butterworth did not wish to make herself +ridiculous.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The other girls tittered.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"And white satin gaiters," suggested the youngest sister.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well," persisted the youngest Miss Snow, "I'd have +open-worked stockings, and have my hair frizzed, any way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I speak to do your hair," put in the second daughter.</p> + +<p>"You're just a lot of chickens, the whole of you," said the +tailoress.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she rather old?" inquired one whose manners were +not learned of Lord Chesterfield.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI" />CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH JIM GETS THE FURNITURE INTO HIS HOUSE, AND MIKE +CONLIN GETS ANOTHER INSTALLMENT OF ADVICE INTO JIM.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I knowed you was smarter nor lightnin'," he said to her; +"but I didn't know you was smarter nor a man."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mike was getting impatient with the incorrigible character +of Jim's prejudices, and Jim saw that he was grieving him.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yis, bedad, an' thin ye'll shkin 'im, an' throw the rist +of 'im intil the river," responded Mike, contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"No, Mike; I'll send for ye to cut 'im up an' pack 'im."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>This was too much for Jim. His face broadened into his +old smile.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"An' what the divil be ye goin' to cry for?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mike shook his head in lofty pity.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Jim, I can see what ye're comin' to."</p> + +<p>Then, as if afraid that his "owld woman" might overhear +his confession, he bent toward Jim, and half whispered:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>In a final conference with Mrs. Snow, Miss Butterworth said:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII" />CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH JIM GETS MARRIED, THE NEW HOTEL RECEIVES ITS +MISTRESS, AND BENEDICT CONFERS A POWER OF ATTORNEY.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Oh, lay down, lay down, lay <i>down</i>, ye misable old +mop!"</p> + +<p>It was an expression of impatience and disgust.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Jim?" Mr. Benedict called.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Then, shifting his address to the object of his care and +anxiety, he went on:</p> + +<p>"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. <i>Hain't</i> ye got no manners?"</p> + +<p>This was too much for Harry, who, in his happy mood +burst into the merriest laughter.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Jim was already getting red in the face.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Mr. Fenton," said Benedict, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Jim, who had been in deep thought, looked up, and said:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Do clothes make Belcher a gentleman?" inquired Mr. +Benedict.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Goodness, gracious me!"</p> + +<p>"If there isn't another cake as big as a flour barrel!"</p> + +<p>"Tell your mother she's an angel. She's coming down to +help us eat it, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Just look at this basket of little cakes! I was saying to +mother this minute that that was all we wanted."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Snow greeted him cordially, and introduced him to +those who stood near.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Miss Snow, in the general character of outside manager and +future companion of the bride, hurried to Jim's side at once, +and said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fenton!"</p> + +<p>"Jest call me Jim."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I won't. Now, Mr. Fenton, really! you can't +see her until she is ready!"</p> + +<p>"Oh can't I!" and Jim smiled.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Now, really, Mr. Fenton, you <i>must</i> 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."</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Parson, do you see my har?"</p> + +<p>"I do," responded the minister, good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"That riz last night," said Jim, solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" and Mr. Snow looked at the intractable +pile with genuine concern.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Have you tried anything on it?" inquired Mr. Snow +with a puzzled look.</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Parson," said Jim, changing the topic, "what's the +damage for the sort o' thing ye're drivin' at this mornin'?"</p> + +<p>"The what?"</p> + +<p>"The damage—what's the—well—damage? What do ye +consider a fa'r price?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean the marriage fee?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess that's what ye call it."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You are very generous."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fenton! excuse me!" said Mr. Snow, coloring, +"but I am not accustomed to hearing language of that kind."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Snow was obliged to laugh, and half a dozen others, +who had gathered about them, joined in a merry chorus.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, little woman, how fare ye?" said Jim, and he advanced, +and took her cheeks tenderly between his rough +hands, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"A purty job ye've made on't! The little woman'll never +look so nice again," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shall—when I'm married again," said Miss +Butterworth, looking up into Jim's eyes, and laughing.</p> + +<p>"Now, ain't that sassy!" exclaimed Jim, in a burst of admiration. +"That's what took me the first time I seen 'er."</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>Miss Snow took Jim by the button-hole:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The truth was, that they were all afraid that Jim would not +be able to hold his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Are we all ready?" inquired Mr. Snow, in a pleasant, +official tone.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"James," said Mr. Snow.</p> + +<p>"Jest call me—"</p> + +<p>Miss Butterworth pinched Jim's arm, and he recalled +Miss Snow's injunction in time to arrest his sentence in midpassage.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Parson," said Jim, "that's jest what I'm here for."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Ye made purty solemn business on't, Parson," said Jim.</p> + +<p>"It's a very important step, Mr. Fenton," responded the +clergyman.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"This is the sort o' thing as will stan' by a man in trouble," +said he, with a huge piece in his hand.</p> + +<p>Then, with a basket of cake, he vanished from the house, +and distributed his burden among the boys at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Boys, I know ye're hungry, 'cause ye've left yer breakfast +on yer faces. Now git this in afore it rains."</p> + +<p>The boys did not stand on the order of the service, but +helped themselves greedily, and left his basket empty in a +twinkling.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Be ye disap'inted, little woman?" inquired Jim, tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no."</p> + +<p>"Feelin's a little too many fur ye?"</p> + +<p>The little woman nodded, while Miss Snow put her arm +around her neck and whispered.</p> + +<p>"A woman is a curi's bein'," said Jim. "She cries when +she's tickled, an' she laughs when she's mad."</p> + +<p>"I'm not mad," said the little woman, bursting into a +laugh, and lifting her tear-burdened eyes to Jim.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>It would be pleasant to follow them into their forest +pastimes, but more stirring and important matters will hold +us to the city.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII" />CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham had a difficult rôle 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 protégé 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It's right!" said Mr. Belcher. "The State prison may +be in it, but it's right!"</p> + +<p>And then, confirming his foul determination by an oath, he +added:</p> + +<p>"I'll stand by it."</p> + +<p>Then he rang his bell, and called for Phipps.</p> + +<p>"Phipps," said he, as his faithful and plastic servitor appeared, +"come in, and close the door."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Phipps, did you ever see this paper before?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Very well; is that your signature?"</p> + +<p>"It is, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you see Benedict write his name? Did you see +Johnson and Ramsey write their names?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember all the circumstances—what I said to +you, and what you said to me—why you were in the room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean, sir," replied Phipps, in +evident alarm.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that that signature is enough to send you +to the State prison?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you save me, sir, if I were to get into trouble?" +he inquired, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to get into trouble," said Phipps.</p> + +<p>"Phipps," said Mr. Belcher, in a conciliatory tone, "I +don't intend that you shall get into trouble."</p> + +<p>Then, rising, and patting his servant on the shoulder, he +added:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," responded the factor, showing his white +teeth in a gratified smile.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You've got too much money," suggested Mr. Talbot.</p> + +<p>"Well, what shall I do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Give it to me."</p> + +<p>"No, I thank you; I can do better. Besides, you are +getting more than your share of it now."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"General, you are deep; you'll have to explain."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Charming picture, General! Charming! but my handkerchief +is fresh, and I must save it. I may have a cold +before night."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Toll, what's the thing to be done?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Have you thought of a hospital?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You might run a church-choir," suggested Talbot, "or, +better than that, buy a church, and turn the crank."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Talbot laughed.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Don't go away, Toll," he said; "I want to see you again."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Before he had completed his toilet, he called for Talbot.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I know two or three lawyers here who have been through a +theological seminary," Talbot responded, with a knowing +smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, get out! There's no joke about this. I mean business +now."</p> + +<p>"Well, I took pains to show you your man, at my house, +once. Don't you remember him?"</p> + +<p>"Cavendish?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I don't like him."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I. He'll bleed you; but he's your man."</p> + +<p>"All right; I want to see him."</p> + +<p>"Get into my coupè, and I'll take you to his office."</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher went to the drawer that contained his forged +document. Then he went back to Talbot, and said:</p> + +<p>"Would Cavendish come here?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Good God! Toll, what has happened since last night?" +he said, as he sank back upon the satin cushions of the coupè.</p> + +<p>"General, I don't think you're quite well. Don't die +now. We can't spare you yet."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. You know I didn't mean to distress +you."</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>When the coupè stopped, Talbot roused his companion +with difficulty.</p> + +<p>"This can't be the place, Toll. We haven't come half a +mile."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, we have come three miles."</p> + +<p>"It can't be possible, Toll. I must look at your horse. +I'd no idea you had such an animal."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I believe you came to see Mr. Cavendish," suggested +Talbot with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose I must go up. I hate lawyers, anyway."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"By the way, Toll, this business of mine is private."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I understand," said Talbot; "I'm only going in to +make sure that Cavendish remembers you."</p> + +<p>What Talbot really wished to make sure of was, that +Cavendish should know that he had brought him his client.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Toll, look at me! Am I all right? Do you see anything +out of the way?"</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"Good morning, gentlemen; sit down."</p> + +<p>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 coupé at his service, he retired.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I am likely to have a little scrimmage," said he, "and I +shall want your help, Mr. Cavendish."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It's a thousand dollars," said Mr. Belcher, surprised that +the sum had apparently made no impression.</p> + +<p>"I see—a retainer—thanks!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What's the case, General?"</p> + +<p>The General drew from his pocket his forged assignment, +and passed it into the hand of Mr. Cavendish.</p> + +<p>"Is that a legally constructed document?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Yes—absolutely perfect," he said. "Of course I know +nothing about the signatures. Is the assignor living?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Have you been using these patents?</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I've made piles of money on them."</p> + +<p>"Is your right contested?"</p> + +<p>"No; but I have reason to believe that it will be."</p> + +<p>"What reason?" inquired Mr. Cavendish, sharply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher was puzzled.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What reason, now?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher's broad expanse of face crimsoned into a blush, +and he simply answered:</p> + +<p>"I know the man."</p> + +<p>"Who is his lawyer?"</p> + +<p>"Balfour."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish gave a little start.</p> + +<p>"Let me see that paper again," said he.</p> + +<p>After looking it through again, he said, dryly:</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Two of them are dead. One of them is living, and is +now in the city."</p> + +<p>"What can he swear to?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"And you know that these rights were never previously +conveyed."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know they never were."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Recorded it?" inquired Mr. Belcher in an alarm which +he did not attempt to disguise.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me that this paper has been +in existence more than six years, and has not been recorded?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know it was necessary."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish tossed the paper back to the owner of it with +a sniff of contempt.</p> + +<p>"It isn't worth that!" said he, snapping his fingers.</p> + +<p>Then he drew out the check from his drawer, and handed +it back to Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>"There's no case, and I don't want your money," said he.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish laughed.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"There is."</p> + +<p>"Is he a credible witness? Has he ever committed a +crime? Can anything wrong be proved against him?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You lawyers put the lancet in pretty deep."</p> + +<p>"Our clients never do!" said Mr. Cavendish through his +sneering lips.</p> + +<p>Then the boy knocked, and came in. There was another +gentleman who wished to see the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"I shall go to Washington to-day, and see you on my return," +said Mr. Belcher.</p> + +<p>Then, bidding the lawyer a good-morning, he went out, ran +down the stairs, jumped into Mr. Talbot's waiting coupé, 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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>After Mr. Belcher had stated the facts touching the Washington +records, Mr. Cavendish said:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV" />CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<p>WHEREIN THE GENERAL LEAPS THE BOUNDS OF LAW, FINDS HIMSELF +IN A NEW WORLD, AND BECOMES THE VICTIM OF HIS +FRIENDS WITHOUT KNOWING IT.</p> + + +<p>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 confrères 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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Toll, have you heard the news?"</p> + +<p>"About the International Mail?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, Toll, I've had a sweat."</p> + +<p>"You're not crippled?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, General, why do you go into these things +at all? You are making money fast enough in a regular business."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Toll," said Mr. Belcher, "you are a good fellow."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, General," said the factor, a smile spreading +around his shining teeth. "My wife will be glad to know it."</p> + +<p>"By the way—speaking of your wife—have you seen anything +of Mrs. Dillingham lately?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. She is commonly supposed to be absorbed by +the General."</p> + +<p>"Common Supposition is a greater fool than I wish it +were."</p> + +<p>"That won't do, General. There never was a more evident +case of killing at first sight than that."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You were complaining of it the other day. It was a +theological seminary then. Perhaps that is the name you +know her by."</p> + +<p>"Not much theological seminary about her!" with a +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's one thing that you can comfort yourself +with, General; she sees no man but you."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" inquired Mr. Belcher, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"That is what everybody says."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Toll," said Mr. Belcher, after a moment of delicious reflection, +"you're a good fellow."</p> + +<p>"I think I've heard that remark before."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you're a good fellow, and I'd like to do something +for you."</p> + +<p>"You've done a great deal for me already, General."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I'm going to do something more."</p> + +<p>"Will you put it in my hand or my hat?" inquired Talbot, +jocularly.</p> + +<p>"Toll, how much Crooked Valley stock have you?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand shares."</p> + +<p>"What did you buy it for?"</p> + +<p>"To help you."</p> + +<p>"What have you kept it for?"</p> + +<p>"To help keep the General at the head of the management."</p> + +<p>"Turn about is fair play, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"That's the adage," responded Talbot.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going to put that stock up; do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"How will you do it?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I think I understand," said Talbot.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, General, I've seen it all. I comprehend it, and I +shall unload with all the gentleness and tenderness possible."</p> + +<p>Then the whimsical scoundrel and his willing lieutenant +laughed a long, heartless laugh.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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 coupé, and went to his business.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, <i>vis a vis</i>.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad to hear it—gladder than I can express," said +Mrs. Dillingham, with heartiness.</p> + +<p>Her effusiveness of good feeling and her evident relief from +anxiety, were honey to him.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher frowned.</p> + +<p>"Do you know I can't quite stomach your whim—about +that boy? What under heaven do you care for him?"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"There is no accounting for tastes!" Mr. Belcher responded, +with a laugh that had a spice of scorn and vexation +in it.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I don't like the man who has him in charge. I believe +Balfour is a villain."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham had played her part perfectly, and the +man before her was a blind believer in her loyalty to him.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"He is to be away all summer, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Good!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham laughed.</p> + +<p>"Why, I am glad of it, if you are," she said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher drew a little book from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"What have you there?" the lady inquired.</p> + +<p>"Women have great curiosity," said Mr. Belcher, slapping +his knee with the little volume.</p> + +<p>"And men delight to excite it," she responded.</p> + +<p>"The General is a business man, and you want to know how +he does it," said he.</p> + +<p>"I do, upon my word," responded the lady.</p> + +<p>"Very well, the General has two kinds of business, and he +never mixes one with the other."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"And you have it all in the little book?"</p> + +<p>"Would you like to see it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"He had sold everything to you, hadn't he?" inquired +Mrs. Dillingham, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, I have the contract, legally drawn, signed, and +delivered."</p> + +<p>"People couldn't blame you, of course."</p> + +<p>"But they did."</p> + +<p>"How could they, if you paid him all that belonged to +him?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>And Mr. Belcher laughed a brutal laugh that rasped Mrs. +Dillingham's sensibilities almost beyond endurance.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Now you shall show me all about it," she said.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Leave the little book until you come back," insisted Mrs. +Dillingham, sweetly. "It will amuse me all day."</p> + +<p>She held it to her breast with both hands, as if it were the +sweetest treasure that had ever rested there.</p> + +<p>"Will you take care of it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>He seized her unresisting hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"Between this time and dinner I shall be back. Then I +must have it again," he said.</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV" />CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH THE GENERAL GOES THROUGH A GREAT MANY TRIALS +AND MEETS AT LAST THE ONE HE HAS SO LONG ANTICIPATED.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I was very much interested in your little book, Mr. +Belcher," said the lady, boldly.</p> + +<p>"The General is one of the ablest of our native authors, +eh?" responded that facetious person, with a jolly laugh.</p> + +<p>"Decidedly," said Mrs. Dillingham, "and so very terse +and statistical."</p> + +<p>"Interesting book, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Very! And it was so kind of you, General, to let me see +how you men manage such things!"</p> + +<p>"We men!" and the General shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"One man, then," said the lady, on seeing that he was +disposed to claim a monopoly in the wisdom of business.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember one little item—a modest little item—concerning +my foreign deposits? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Little item, General! What are you doing with so much +money over there?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, or next to nothing. That's my anchor to windward."</p> + +<p>"It will hold," responded the lady, "if weight is all that's +needed."</p> + +<p>"I intend that it shall hold, and that it shall be larger before +it is smaller."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it;" and Mrs. Dillingham shook her +pretty head.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking about, General?"</p> + +<p>"You've never seen me in one of my trances, have you?" +inquired Mr. Belcher, with trembling lips and a forced laugh.</p> + +<p>"No! Do you have trances?"</p> + +<p>"Trances? Yes; and visions of the most stunning character. +Talbot has seen me in two or three of them."</p> + +<p>"Are they dangerous?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Shall I fan you?"</p> + +<p>"Do, please!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"General," she said, at last, "You must have been drinking. +I do not think you know what you have said to me."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I am perfectly sober," said he, rising +and approaching her.</p> + +<p>"You must not come near me. Give me time! give me +time!" she exclaimed, rising and retreating.</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher was startled by the alarmed and angry look +in her eyes. "Time!" he said, fiercely; "Eternity, you +mean."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Leave you, with not so much as the touch of your hand?" +he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<p>"<i>To James Balfour, Esq.</i>:</p> + +<p>"Your letter of this date received, and contents noted. +Permit me to say in reply:</p> + +<p>"1st. That I have no evidence that you are Paul Benedict's +attorney.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Yours, ROBERT BELCHER."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"I've changed my mind," said the General.</p> + +<p>"Do you suspect me of wishing to steal it?" inquired Mr. +Balfour.</p> + +<p>"No, but the fact is, I wrote my note to you without consulting +my lawyer."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," said Mr. Balfour. "Good-day, sir."</p> + +<p>"No offence, I hope," said Mr. Belcher, with a peculiar +toss of the head, and a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Not the least," said the lawyer, passing out of the door.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>coup de grace</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI" />CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH THE CASE OF "BENEDICT <i>VS.</i> BELCHER" FINDS ITSELF +IN COURT, AN INTERESTING QUESTION OF IDENTITY +IS SETTLED, AND A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE +TAKES PLACE.</p> + +<p>"OYEZ! <i>Oyez</i>! <i>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."</i></p> + +<p>"That's the crier," whispered Mr. Benedict to Jim.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter of 'im?" inquired the latter.</p> + +<p>"That's the way they open the court."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He beckoned for Phipps, who sat uneasily, with a scared +look upon his face, among the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Is that Mrs. Dillingham?" he asked in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Phipps assured him that it was. Then Mr. Belcher wrote +upon his card the words: "Do not, for my sake, remain in +this room."</p> + +<p>"Give this to her," he said to his servant.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>A jury was empanneled, the case of Benedict <i>vs.</i> Belcher +was called, and the counsel of both parties declared themselves +ready for the trial.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Balfour, gathering his papers before him, rose to make +the opening for the prosecution.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Balfour read these documents, and they were examined +both by Mr. Cavendish and the court.</p> + +<p>The name of Paul Benedict was then called, as the first +witness.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" asked Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"Paul Benedict."</p> + +<p>"Where were you born?"</p> + +<p>"In the city of New York."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I am, sir."</p> + +<p>"And you are the only owner of all these patent rights?"</p> + +<p>"I am, sir."</p> + +<p>"What is your profession?"</p> + +<p>"I was trained for a mechanical engineer."</p> + +<p>"What has been your principal employment?"</p> + +<p>"Invention."</p> + +<p>"When you left New York, whither did you go?"</p> + +<p>"To Sevenoaks."</p> + +<p>"How many years ago was that?"</p> + +<p>"Eleven or twelve, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>The judge looked at Mr. Balfour, and the latter said: +"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish gave a significant glance at his client, +whose face bloomed with a brutal smile, and then sat down.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" inquired Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"All, for the present," responded Mr. Cavendish, sneeringly, +and with mock courtesy.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What then?" inquired Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"If an assignment executed in due form should be presented +to you, what should you say?"</p> + +<p>"I object to the question," said Mr. Cavendish, leaping +to his feet. "The document has not yet been presented to +him."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Jest call me Jim," said the individual named, from his +distant seat.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Hold up your right hand," said the clerk.</p> + +<p>"Sartin," said Jim. "Both on 'em if ye say so."</p> + +<p>"You solemnly swear m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-so help you +God!"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"James Fenton," said Mr. Balfour, beginning a question.</p> + +<p>"Jest call me Jim: I ain't no prouder here nor I be at +Number Nine," said the witness.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Jim," said Mr. Balfour smiling, "tell us who +you are."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher laughed, and Mr. Cavendish sniffed his lips, +as if they had said a good thing.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," responded Mr. Balfour. "What are your +religious views, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The laugh was on Mr. Cavendish. The Court smiled, the +audience roared, and order was demanded.</p> + +<p>"That will do," said Mr. Cavendish. "The religious +views of the witness are definite and satisfactory."</p> + +<p>"Jim, do you know Paul Benedict?" inquired Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do," said Jim. "I've knowed 'im ever sence he +come to Sevenoaks."</p> + +<p>"How did you make his acquaintance?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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"—</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish jumped up and said fiercely: "I object to +this trifling."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Is he in the room?"</p> + +<p>"Mostly," said Jim, with his bland smile.</p> + +<p>"Give me a direct answer, now."</p> + +<p>"Yis, he's in this room, and he's a settin' there by you, +an' he's been a stannin' where I stan' now."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Go on and tell it," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Belcher ever send into the woods to find him?'"</p> + +<p>"Yis," said Jim, laughing, "but I choked 'em off."</p> + +<p>"How did you choke them off?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"That is all," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish rose. "You helped Mr. Benedict to escape, +did you, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"I said so," replied Jim.</p> + +<p>"Did you steal the key when you were there first?"</p> + +<p>"No; I borrered it, an' brung it back an left it in the door."</p> + +<p>"Did you undo the fastenings of the outside door?"</p> + +<p>"Yis, an' I did 'em up agin."</p> + +<p>"Did you break down the grated door?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I beg the Court's protection for my client, against the +insults of this witness," said Mr. Cavendish.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Witness," said the Judge, peremptorily, "you forget +where you are, sir. You must stop these remarks."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Paddlin' off, eh?" said Jim, with a comical smile.</p> + +<p>"Witness," said the Judge, "be silent and step down."</p> + +<p>"No 'fense, Jedge, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Step down, sir."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dillingham," said the Judge, with a courteous +bow and gesture, "will you have the kindness to remove your +veil?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dillingham," said Mr. Balfour, "where do you reside?"</p> + +<p>"In this city, sir."</p> + +<p>"Have you always lived here?"</p> + +<p>"Always."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Paul Benedict?"</p> + +<p>"I do, sir."</p> + +<p>"How long have you known him?"</p> + +<p>"From the time I was born until he left New York, after +his marriage."</p> + +<p>"What is his relation to you?"</p> + +<p>"He is my brother, sir."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish rose and begged the Court to overlook his +client's excitement, as he had evidently been taken off his +guard.</p> + +<p>"Paul Benedict is your brother, you say?" resumed Mr. +Balfour.</p> + +<p>"He is, sir."</p> + +<p>"What was his employment before he left New York?"</p> + +<p>"He was an inventor from his childhood, and received a +careful education in accordance with his mechanical genius."</p> + +<p>"Why did he leave New York?"</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed to say that he left in consequence of my +own unkindness."</p> + +<p>"What was the occasion of your unkindness?"</p> + +<p>"His marriage with one whom I did not regard as his own +social equal or mine."</p> + +<p>"What was her name?"</p> + +<p>"Jane Kendrick."</p> + +<p>"How did you learn that he was alive?"</p> + +<p>"Through his son, whom I invited into my house, after he +was brought to this city by yourself."</p> + +<p>"Have you recently visited the cemetery at Sevenoaks?"</p> + +<p>"I have, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you see the grave of your sister-in-law?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"Was there a headstone upon the grave?"</p> + +<p>"There was a humble one."</p> + +<p>"What inscription did it bear?"</p> + +<p>"Jane Kendrick, wife of Paul Benedict."</p> + +<p>"When and where did you see your brother first, after your +separation?"</p> + +<p>"Early last summer at a place called Number Nine."</p> + +<p>"Did you recognise him?"</p> + +<p>"I did, at once."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"That is all," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Very glad, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was sorry for the misery which I had inflicted +upon him, and to which I had exposed him."</p> + +<p>"You were the victim of remorse, as I understand you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, to both questions."</p> + +<p>"Well, madam, such things have happened. Have you +been in the habit of receiving Mr. Belcher at your house?"</p> + +<p>"I have."</p> + +<p>"You have been in the habit of receiving gentlemen rather +indiscriminately at your house, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"I object to the question," said Mr. Balfour quickly. "It +carries a covert insult to the witness."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>A titter ran around the court-room, in which Mr. Belcher +joined. His admiration was too much at the moment for his +self-interest.</p> + +<p>"Did you know before you went to Number Nine, that +your brother was there?" inquired Mr. Cavendish.</p> + +<p>"I did, and the last time but one at which Mr. Belcher +called upon me I informed him of the fact."</p> + +<p>"That your brother was there?"</p> + +<p>"No, that Paul Benedict was there."</p> + +<p>"How did you know he was there?"</p> + +<p>"His little boy wrote me from there, and told me so."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dillingham drew down her veil again, and walked to +her seat.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Harry," said Mr. Balfour, "were you ever in Mr. Belcher's +house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Tell us how it happened that you were there."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Belcher stopped me in the street, and led me up the +steps, and then up stairs into his room."</p> + +<p>"What question did he ask you?"</p> + +<p>"He wanted to know whether my father was alive."</p> + +<p>"Did he offer you money if you would tell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; he offered me a great gold piece of money, and +told me it was an eagle."</p> + +<p>"Did you take it?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did he threaten you?"</p> + +<p>"He tried to scare me, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you that he should like to give your father +some money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And did you tell him that your father was alive?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I ran away;" and Harry could not restrain a +laugh at the remembrance of the scene.</p> + +<p>"Harry, is your father in this room?"</p> + +<p>Harry looked at his father with a smile, and answered, +"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Does the counsel for the defence wish to cross-examine +the witness?" inquired the judge.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Benedict resumed the stand.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mr. Cavendish, "since the plaintiff's +counsel is so difficult to please! You are the owner of these +patents, are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am, sir."</p> + +<p>"You have been insane, have you sir?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I have been, sir. I was very ill for a long time, +and have no doubt that I suffered from mental alienation."</p> + +<p>"What is your memory of things that occurred immediately +preceding your insanity?"</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is! I thought so! Then you cannot swear to the +events immediately preceding your attack?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I cannot, sir, at least, not in their order or +detail."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"If they were credible people, and not unfriendly to me, +I should be compelled to believe them."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever know Nicholas Johnson and James Ramsey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Where did you see them last?"</p> + +<p>"In Mr. Belcher's library."</p> + +<p>"On what occasion, or, rather, at what time?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Where are these men now?"</p> + +<p>"Unhappily, they are both dead."</p> + +<p>"Yes, unhappily indeed—unhappily for my client. Was +there anybody else in the room?"</p> + +<p>"I believe that Phipps, Mr. Belcher's man, was coming +and going."</p> + +<p>"Why, your memory is excellent, is it not? And you remember +the date of this event too! Suppose you tell us what +it was."</p> + +<p>"It was the 4th of May, 1860."</p> + +<p>"How confused you must have been!" said Mr. Cavendish.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I object to the question. The counsel should show the +document to the witness, and then ask his opinion of it," +said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>The Court coincided with Mr. Balfour's view, and ruled +accordingly.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What an excellent memory!" said Mr. Cavendish; rubbing +his white hands together. "Are you familiar with the +signatures of Nicholas Johnson and James Ramsey?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen them many times."</p> + +<p>"Would you recognize them, if I were to show them to +you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know sir."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Take all the time you need, witness," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"All day, of course, if necessary," responded Mr. Cavendish +raspingly.</p> + +<p>"I think these are genuine autograph letters, both of +them," said Mr. Benedict.</p> + +<p>"Thank you: now please hand them back to me."</p> + +<p>"I have special reasons for requesting the Court to impound +these letters," said Mr. Balfour. "They will be needed +again in the case."</p> + +<p>"The witness will hand the letters to the clerk," said the +judge.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't! I thought you wouldn't! Still, we +should like to know your opinion of the instrument," said +Mr. Cavendish.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you would like to know it, sir," said Benedict, +quietly.</p> + +<p>"What does the witness insinuate?" exclaimed the lawyer, +jumping to his feet. "No insinuations, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Insinuations are very apt to breed insinuations," said the +Judge, quietly. "The witness has manifested no disinclination +to answer your direct questions."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mr. Cavendish. "Is your signature at +the foot of that assignment?"</p> + +<p>"It is not, sir."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps those are not the signatures of the witnesses," +said Mr. Cavendish, with an angry sneer.</p> + +<p>"Two of them, I have no doubt, are forgeries," responded +Mr. Balfour, with an excited voice.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"That's all," he said, nodding to the witness.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Agreed," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mr. Cavendish. "I shall call Cornelius +Phipps, the only surviving witness of the assignment."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII" />CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH PHIPPS IS NOT TO BE FOUND, AND THE GENERAL IS +CALLED UPON TO DO HIS OWN LYING.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Benedict's insanity considered hopeless from the +first?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Mr. Belcher, cheerfully; "we were quite +hopeful that we should bring him out of it."</p> + +<p>"He had lucid intervals, then."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I never wrote any such letter, sir. I never sent him any +such letter, sir."</p> + +<p>"You sent him to the asylum, did you?"</p> + +<p>"I co-operated with others, sir, and paid the bills," said +Mr. Belcher, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever visit the asylum when he was there?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you apply to the superintendent for liberty to secure +his signature to a paper?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"How did you obtain the letters of Nicholas Johnson and +James Ramsey? I ask this, because they are not addressed +to you."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What reason had you to anticipate this trial?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"So you had not seen these particular signatures at the +time when the alleged assignment was made."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I had not seen them."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"That is about as clear a statement of the fact as I can +make, sir;" and Mr. Belcher bowed and smiled.</p> + +<p>"I suppose, Mr. Belcher," said Mr. Balfour, "that it +seems very strange to you that the plaintiff should have forgotten +his signature."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"That certainly seems reasonable, but how is it that he +does not recognize it, even if he does not remember the +writing of it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; a man's signature changes with changing +habits, I suppose," responded the witness.</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose that any genuine signature of yours +could pass under your eye undetected, do you?" inquired +Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I don't. I'll be frank with you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I'm going to test you. Perhaps other men, +who have always been sane, do sometimes forget their own +signatures."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"That's my sign manual, sir."</p> + +<p>"You are sure?"</p> + +<p>"I know it, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" inquired Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"Charles Barhydt."</p> + +<p>"What is your profession?"</p> + +<p>"I am a physician."</p> + +<p>"You have an official position, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; I have for fifteen years been the superintendent +of the State Asylum for the insane."</p> + +<p>"Do you recognize the plaintiff in this case, as a former +patient in the asylum?"</p> + +<p>"I do, sir."</p> + +<p>"Was he ever visited by the defendant while in your +care?"</p> + +<p>"He was, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did the defendant endeavor to procure his signature to +any document while he was in the asylum?"</p> + +<p>"He did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did he apply to you for permission to get this signature, +and did he importunately urge you to give him this permission?"</p> + +<p>"He did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you read this document?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember what it was?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly, in a general way. It was an assignment of a +number of patent rights and sundry machines, implements +and processes."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>After reading the document through, the Doctor said:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"But you did not give the defendant liberty to procure the +signature of the patentee?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"When was this?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>Samuel Yates was next called.</p> + +<p>"You are a member of our profession, I believe," said Mr. +Balfour.</p> + +<p>"I am, sir."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever been in the service of the defendant in this +case?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"What have you done for him?"</p> + +<p>"I worked many months in the endeavor to ascertain +whether Paul Benedict was living or dead."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"He did procure them of me, sir."</p> + +<p>"Did he inform you of the purpose to which he wished to +put them?"</p> + +<p>"He did, sir. He said that he wished to verify some signatures."</p> + +<p>"Were you ever employed in his library at Sevenoaks, by +his agent?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I wrote there for several weeks."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"SEVENOAKS, May 5, 1860.</p> + +<p>"<i>Dear Benedict:</i>—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.</p> + +<p>"Yours, ROBERT BELCHER."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Yates," said Mr. Balfour, "have you ever seen this +letter before?"</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"That is all," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"So you stole this letter, did you?" inquired Mr. Cavendish.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I am carrying on his business, myself, just at this time," +remarked Mr. Balfour, seriously.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Then you refuse any sort of a compromise."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Very well—let it go. I suppose I must go through with +it. You understand that this conversation is confidential."</p> + +<p>"I do: and you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII" />CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<p>IN WHICH A HEAVENLY WITNESS APPEARS WHO CANNOT BE CROSS-EXAMINED, +AND BEFORE WHICH THE DEFENSE UTTERLY +BREAKS DOWN.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>He gave a helpless, hopeless sigh, as Mr. Balfour called to +the witness stand Prof. Albert Timms.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What is your name, witness?" inquired Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"Albert Timms, at your service."</p> + +<p>"What is your calling, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I have at present the charge of a department in the +School of Mines. My specialties are chemistry and microscopy."</p> + +<p>"You are specially acquainted with these branches of +natural science, then."</p> + +<p>"I am, sir."</p> + +<p>"Have you been regarded as an expert in the detection of +forgery?"</p> + +<p>"I have been called as such in many cases of the kind, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then you have had a good deal of experience in such +things, and in the various tests by which such matters are determined?"</p> + +<p>"I have, sir."</p> + +<p>"Have you examined the assignment and the autograph +letters which have been in your hands during the recess of +the Court?"</p> + +<p>"I have, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you know either the plaintiff or the defendant in this +case?"</p> + +<p>"I do not, sir. I never saw either of them until to-day."</p> + +<p>"Has any one told you about the nature of these papers, +so as to prejudice your mind in regard to any of them?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. I have not exchanged a word with any one in +regard to them."</p> + +<p>"What is your opinion of the two letters?"</p> + +<p>"That they are veritable autographs."</p> + +<p>"How do you judge this?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What do you think of the signatures to the assignment?"</p> + +<p>"I think they are all counterfeits but one."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"If the papers can be handed to me," said the witness, +"I will show what leads me to think so."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I find the name of Nicholas Johnson of exactly the same +length on the assignment that it occupies on the letter," +said he.</p> + +<p>"Is that a suspicious circumstance?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"How do you determine, then, that it is anything but a +genuine signature?"</p> + +<p>"The imitation is too nearly perfect."</p> + +<p>"How can that be?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Now will you apply the same test to the other signature?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Both names on the assignment, then, are exact fac-similes +of the names on the autograph letters," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>"They are, indeed, sir—quite wonderful reproductions."</p> + +<p>"The work must have been done, then, by a very skillful +man," said Mr. Balfour.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"How were these fac-similes produced?" inquired Mr. +Balfour.</p> + +<p>"They could only have been produced by tracing first +with a pencil, directly over the signature to be counterfeited."</p> + +<p>"Well, this seems very reasonable, but have you any further +tests?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Can you perform this experiment here, and now?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Will you describe the nature of your experiment?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"The experiment will be permitted," said the judge, "and +the officers and the janitor will give the Professor all the assistance +he needs."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"May it please the Court, I am ready for the experiment," +he said.</p> + +<p>"The witness will proceed," said the judge.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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: "<i>Mene, mene, tekel upharsin!</i>" 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.</p> + +<p>There stood Prof. Timms in his triumph. His experiment +had proved to be a brilliant success, and that was all he cared +for.</p> + +<p>"You have not shown us the other signatures," said Mr. +Balfour.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish did not look at the witness, but pretended +to write.</p> + +<p>"Does the counsel for the defense wish to question the +witness?" inquired Mr. Balfour, turning to him.</p> + +<p>"No," very sharply.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," and the professor nodded sidewise, evidently +desirous of shutting Jim off, but the latter wanted further +conversation.</p> + +<p>"Was it you that said it was mean to tickle yer parson?" +inquired Jim.</p> + +<p>"What?" said the astonished professor, looking round in +spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you say it was mean to tickle yer parson? It +sounded more like a furriner," said Jim.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Thus saying, he handed the letter to Mr. Cavendish, who +received and read it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish consulted his client, and then rose and +said: "May it please the Court, there is no such book in +existence."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"The witness can be called," said the judge.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dillingham," said Mr. Balfour, "have you been on +friendly terms with the defendant in this case?"</p> + +<p>"I have, sir," she answered. "He has been a frequent +visitor at my house, and I have visited his family at his own."</p> + +<p>"Was he aware that the plaintiff was your brother?"</p> + +<p>"He was not."</p> + +<p>"Has he, from the first, made a confidant of you?"</p> + +<p>"In some things—yes."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Harry Benedict—the plaintiff's son?"</p> + +<p>"I do, sir."</p> + +<p>"How long have you known him?"</p> + +<p>"I made his acquaintance soon after he came to reside with +you, sir, in the city."</p> + +<p>"Did you seek his acquaintance?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir."</p> + +<p>"From what motive?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Belcher wished me to do it, in order to ascertain of +him whether his father were living or dead."</p> + +<p>"You did not then know that the lad was your nephew?"</p> + +<p>"I did not, sir.'</p> + +<p>"Have you ever told Mr. Belcher that your brother was +alive?"</p> + +<p>"I told him that Paul Benedict was alive, at the last interview +but one that I ever had with him."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"He did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Was there any special occasion for the visit you allude +to?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Can you give us the drift or substance of his conversation +and statements?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Did you read this book, Mrs. Dillingham?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Every word?"</p> + +<p>"Every word."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear me serve a notice on the defendant's counsel +to produce this book in Court?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir."</p> + +<p>"In that notice did I give the title of the book correctly?"</p> + +<p>"You did, sir."</p> + +<p>"Was this book left in your hands for a considerable length +of time?"</p> + +<p>"It was, sir, for several hours."</p> + +<p>"Did you copy it?"</p> + +<p>"I did, sir, every word of it."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure that you made a correct copy?"</p> + +<p>"I verified it, sir, item by item, again and again."</p> + +<p>"Can you give me any proof corroborative of your statement +that this book has been in your hands?"</p> + +<p>"I can, sir."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"A letter from Mr. Belcher, asking me to deliver the book +to his man Phipps."</p> + +<p>"Is that the letter?" inquired Mr. Balfour, passing the +note into her hands.</p> + +<p>"It is, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cavendish went over to Mr. Balfour, and they held a +long conversation, <i>sotto voce</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX" />CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<p>WHEREIN MR. BELCHER, HAVING EXHIBITED HIS DIRTY RECORD, +SHOWS A CLEAN PAIR OF HEELS.</p> + + +<p>The first face that Mr. Belcher met upon leaving the Court-House +was that of Mr. Talbot.</p> + +<p>"Get into my coupé," said Talbot. "I will take you +home."</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher got into the coupé 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."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, General? How has the case gone?"</p> + +<p>"Gone? Haven't you been in the house?"</p> + +<p>"No; how has it gone?"</p> + +<p>"Gone to hell," said Mr. Belcher, leaning over heavily +upon Talbot, and whispering it in his ear.</p> + +<p>"Not so bad as that, I hope," said Talbot, pushing him off.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What's happened, General? Tell me."</p> + +<p>"Toll, you'll be shut up to-morrow. Play your cards +right. Make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What can I do for you, General?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Get me out of the city. Get me off to Europe. You +know I have funds there."</p> + +<p>"I'll do what I can, General."</p> + +<p>"You're a jewel, Toll."</p> + +<p>"By the way," said Talbot, "the Crooked Valley corporation +held its annual meeting to-day. You are out, and they +have a new deal."</p> + +<p>"They'll find out something to-morrow, Toll. It all comes +together."</p> + +<p>When the coupé 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.</p> + +<p>"The devil's to pay."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of it," said he. "I hope you'll get it all out +of him."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I'll be down to-morrow early," said the General.</p> + +<p>"We want to see you to-night," said the broker.</p> + +<p>"Very well, come here at nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>At this moment the merry voices of his children came +through an opening door.</p> + +<p>The General gave a great gulp in the endeavor to swallow +his emotion. After all, there was a tender spot in him.</p> + +<p>"Toll, shut the door; I can't stand that. Poor little devils! +What's going to become of them?"</p> + +<p>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 coupé. 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The case of "Benedict <i>vs.</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Very well, out with it: what's the matter?" said the +Captain.</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know of any," said the captain.</p> + +<p>"But I must go back."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to swim for it, then."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Fetch your traps," said the captain. "I can get you +on board, if you are in time."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, he's good yet," replied Old Man Coates.</p> + +<p>"You must sell him to me, with a light wagon," said Mr. +Belcher.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," responded the man. "It's stopped +now. It was old Belcher's once, but he's gone up, they say."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Belcher looked back. His last friend had left him. +"Blast the brute!" he exclaimed. "He is like the rest of +'em."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX" />CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<p>WHICH GIVES THE HISTORY OF AN ANNIVERSARY, PRESENTS A +TABLEAU, AND DROPS THE CURTAIN.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The boys are called in, and the company gather to their +banquet, amid conversation and laughter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Balfour turns to Jim and says: "How does this compare +with Number Nine, Jim? Isn't this better than the woods?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"So you think our good friend Mr. Benedict has got so +much that he has left comfort behind," says Mr. Balfour with +a laugh.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"You will not tell anybody, Jim," says Mr. Benedict, in +a low tone.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can tell ye," replies Jim. "I've been a keepin' +it in for this very meetin'."</p> + +<p>"Oh Jim!" exclaim half a dozen voices, which means: +"we are dying to hear all about it."</p> + +<p>"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.'</p> + +<p>"I wonder how he came in such a place as that," says +Mrs. Snow.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Phipps!" "Phipps!" shout half a dozen voices, and +a boisterous laugh goes around the group.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" comes from every side.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Jim is very doubtful about his quotation, and actually +blushes scarlet under the fire of laughter that greets him +from every quarter.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"You are larger than a sparrow, Jim," says Mr. Benedict +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"That's so."</p> + +<p>"Larger than a hair."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVENOAKS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 15214-h.txt or 15214-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/2/1/15214">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/2/1/15214</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVENOAKS*** + + +******* This file should be named 15214.txt or 15214.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/2/1/15214 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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