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Precaution. Vol. I. of the complete series. 
 
PRECAUTION 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 J. FENIMORE COOPER 
 
 ' Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer 
 To-morrow's caution may arrive too late ' 
 
 NEW YORK 
 JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 
 
 150 WORTH STREET, CORNER MISSION PLACE 
 
TflOW'S 
 ttlNG AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY, 
 
P4 
 
 LIST 
 
 OF THE NOVELS OF J. FENIMORE COOPER, IN THE ORDER OF 
 THEIR APPEARANCE, AND WITH THE DATES OF THEIR FIRST 
 PUBLICATION. 
 
 1. Precaution 1821 
 
 2. The Spy 1821 
 
 3. " Pioneers 1823 
 
 4. " Pilot 1823 
 
 5. Lionel Lincoln 1825 
 
 6. Last of the Mohicans 1826 
 
 7. Red Rover 1827 j 
 
 8. The Prairie 1827 ' 
 
 9. Wept of Wish-ton- Wish . . . 1829 
 
 10. The Water- Witch 1830 
 
 n. " Bravo 1831 
 
 12. " Heidenmauer 1832 
 
 13. " Headsman 1833 
 
 14. " Monikins 1835 
 
 15. Homeward Bound. 18^8 
 
 1 6. Home as Found . . 
 
 17. The Pathfinder. 1840 
 
 1 8. Mercedes of Castile 1840 
 
 19. The Deerslayer 1841 
 
 20. " Two Admirals 1842 
 
 21. Wing-and-Wing 1842 
 
 22. Wyandotte 1843 
 
 23. Afloat and Ashore 1844 
 
 24. Miles Wallingford 1844 
 
 25. Th2 Chainbearer 1845 
 
 26. Satanstoe 1845 
 
 27. The Redskins 1846 
 
 28. " Crater 1847 
 
 29. Jack Tier 1848 
 
 30. Oak Openings 1848 
 
 31. The Sea Lions 1849 
 
 32. The Ways of the Hour 1850 
 
 In voluming the books the above order should be fol- 
 lowed, with the exception of the Leatherstocking series, 
 which should be volumed according to the sequence of 
 the tales, as follows : Deerslayer, Last of the Mohicans, 
 Pathfinder, Pioneers, and Prairie. These should be intro- 
 duced in the series after " The Spy." 
 
PRECAUTION. 
 
 A CHAPTER I. 
 
 " I WONDER if we are to have a neighbor in the Deanery 
 soon ?" inquired Clara Moseley, addressing herself to a 
 small party assembled in her father's drawing-room, while 
 standing at a window which commanded a distant view of 
 the house in question. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied her brother ; " the agent has let it to 
 a Mr. Jarvis for a couple of years, and he is to take posses- 
 sion this week." 
 
 " And who is the Mr. Jarvis that is about to become so 
 near a neighbor ? " asked Sir Edward Moseley. 
 
 " Why, sir, I learn he has been a capital merchant ; that 
 he has retired from business with a large fortune ; that he 
 has, like yourself, sir, an only hope for his declining years 
 in a son, an officer in the army ; and, moreover, that he 
 has a couple of fine daughters ; so, sir, he is a man of 
 family in one sense at least, you see. But," dropping his 
 voice, "whether he is a man of family in your sense, Jane," 
 looking at -his second sister, "is more than I could dis- 
 
 cover." 
 
 " I hope you did not take the trouble, sir, to inquire on 
 my account," retorted Jane, coloring slightly with vexa- 
 tion at his speech. 
 
 " Indeed I did, my dear sis, and solely on your account," 
 replied the laughing brother, " for you well know that no 
 gentility, no husband ; and it's dull work to you young 
 ladies without at least a possibility of matrimony. As for 
 Clara, she is <' 
 
 Here he was stopped by his younger sister Emily placing 
 her hand on his mouth, as she whispered in his ear, 
 "John, you forget the anxiety of a certain gentleman 
 about a fair incognita at Bath, and a list of inquiries con- 
 cerning her lineage, and a few other indispensables," 
 
6 PR EC A UTJON-. 
 
 John, in his turn, colored, and affectionately kissing the 
 hand which kept him silent, addressed himself to Jane, and 
 by his vivacity and good humor soon restored her to com- 
 placency. 
 
 " I rejoice," said Lady Moseley, "that Sir William has 
 found a tenant, however ; for next to occupying it him- 
 self, it is a most desirable thing to have a good tenant in 
 it, on account of the circle in which we live." 
 
 " And Mr. Jarvis has the great goodness of money, by 
 John's account," caustically observed Mrs. Wilson, who 
 was a sister of Sir Edward's. 
 
 " Let me tell you, madam," cried the rector of the par- 
 ish, looking around him pleasantly, and who was a pretty 
 constant and always a welcome visitor in the family, "that 
 a great deal of money is a very good thing in itself, and 
 that a great many very good things may be done with it." 
 
 " Such as paying tithes, ha ! doctor," cried Mr. Haugh- 
 ton, a gentleman of landed property in the neighborhood, 
 of plain exterior, but great goodness of heart, and be- 
 tween whom and the rector subsisted the most cordial 
 good will. 
 
 " Ay, tithes, or halves, as the baronet did here, when he 
 forgave old Gregson one-half his rent, and his children the 
 other." 
 
 "Well, but, my dear," said Sir Edward to his wife, "you 
 must not starve our friends because we are to have a 
 neighbor. William has stood with the dining-room door 
 open these five minutes 
 
 Lady Moseley gave her hand to the rector, and the 
 company followed them, without any order, to the dinner- 
 table. 
 
 The party assembled around the hospitable board of the 
 baronet was composed, beside the before-mentioned per- 
 sons, of the wife of Mr. Haughton, a woman of much 
 good sense and modesty of deportment ; their daughter, a 
 young lady conspicuous for nothing but good nature ; and 
 the wife and son of the rector the latter but lately ad- 
 mitted to holy orders himself. 
 
 The remainder of the day passed in an uninterrupted 
 flow of pleasant conversation, the natural -consequence of 
 a unison of opinions on all leading questions, the parties 
 having long known and esteemed each other for those 
 qualities which soonest reconcile us to the common frail- 
 ties of our nature. On parting at the usual hour, it was 
 agreed to meet that day week at the rectory ; and the 
 
PRECAUTION. 1 
 
 tor, on making his bow to - Lady Moseley, observed that 
 he intended, in virtue of his office, to make an early call 
 on the Jarvis family, and that, if possible, he would per- 
 suade them to be of the party. 
 
 Sir Edward Moseley was descended from one of the most 
 respectable of the creations of his order by James., and had 
 inherited, with many of the virtues of his ancestor, an es- 
 tate which placed him among the greatest landed proprie- 
 tors of the county. But, as it had been an invariable rule 
 never to deduct a single acre from the inheritance of the 
 eldest son, and the extravagance of his mother, who was 
 the daughter of a nobleman, had much embarrassed the 
 affairs of his father, Sir Edward, on coming into posses- 
 sion of his estate, had wisely determined to withdraw from 
 the gay world, by renting his house in town, and retiring 
 altogether to his respectable mansion, about a hundred 
 miles from the metropolis. Here he hoped, by a course 
 of systematic but liberal economy, to release himself from 
 all embarrassments, and to make such a provision for his 
 younger children, the three daughters already mentioned, 
 as he conceived their birth entitled them to expect. Sev- 
 enteen years enabled him to accomplish this plan ; and, 
 for more than eighteen months, Sir Edward had resumed 
 the hospitality and appearance usual in his family, and 
 had even promised his delighted girls to take possession, 
 the ensuing winter, of the house in St. James's Square. 
 Nature had not qualified Sir Edward for great or contin- 
 ued exertions, and the prudent decision he had taken 
 to retrieve his fortunes was perhaps an act of as much 
 forecast and vigor as his talents or energy would afford ; 
 it was the step most obviously for his interests, and the 
 one that was safest both in its execution and consequences, 
 and as such it had been adopted : but, had it required a 
 single particle more of enterprise or calculation, it would 
 have been beyond his powers, and the heir might have yet 
 labored under the difficulties which distressed his more 
 brilliant but less prudent parent. 
 
 The baronet was warmly attached to his wife, and as she 
 was a woman of many valuable and no obnoxious quali- 
 ties, civil and attentive by habit to all around her, and 
 perfectly disinterested in her attachments to her own 
 family, nothing in nature could partake more of perfection 
 in the eyes of her husband and children than the conduct 
 of this beloved relative. Yet Lady Moseley had her fail- 
 ings, however, although few were disposed to view her 
 
8 P&ECA UTION-. 
 
 errors with that severity which truth and a just discrimi- 
 nation of character render necessary. Her union had been 
 one of love, and for a time it had been objected to by the 
 friends of her husband, on the score of fortune ; but con- 
 stancy and perseverance prevailed, and the protracted and 
 inconsequent opposition of his parents had left no other 
 effects than an aversion in the children to the exercise of 
 parental authority, in marrying their own descendants an 
 aversion which, though common to both the worthy baronet 
 and his wife, was somewhat different in its two subjects. In 
 the husband, it was quiescent; but in the wife, it was slightly 
 shaded w T ith the female esprit de corps of having her daugh- 
 ters comfortably established, and that in due season. Lady 
 Moseley was religious, but hardly pious ; she was charita- 
 ble in deeds, but not always in opinions ; her intentions 
 were pure, but neither her prejudices nor her reasoning 
 powers suffered her to be at all times consistent Still, 
 few knew her that did not love her ; and none were ever 
 heard to say aught against her breeding, her morals, or 
 her disposition. 
 
 The sister of Sir Edward had been married, early in life, 
 to an officer in the army, who, spending much of his time 
 abroad on service, had left her a prey to that solicitude to 
 which she was necessarily subjected by her attachment to 
 her husband. To find relief from this perpetual and life- 
 wearing anxiety, an invaluable friend had pointed out the 
 only true remedy of which her case admitted a research 
 into her own heart, and the employments of active benevo- 
 lence. The death of her husband, who lost his life in bat- 
 tle, caused her to withdraw in a great measure from the 
 world, and gave time and inducement for reflections, which 
 led to impressions on religion that were sufficiently correct 
 in themselves, and indispensable as the basis of future 
 happiness, but which became slightly tinctured with the 
 sternness of her vigorous mind, and possibly at times were 
 more unbending than was compatible with the comforts of 
 this world ; a fault, however, of manner, more than of mat- 
 ter. Warmly attached to her brother and his children, 
 Mrs. Wilson, who had never been a mother herself, yielded 
 to their earnest entreaties to become one of the family ; 
 and, although left by the late General Wilson with a large 
 income, ever since his death she had given up her own 
 establishment, and devoted most of her time to the forma- 
 tion of the character of her youngest niece. Lady Mose- 
 ley had submitted this child entirely to the control of the 
 
PRECA UTJON. 9 
 
 aunt ; and it was commonly thought Emily would inherit 
 the very handsome sum left at the disposal of the general's 
 widow. 
 
 Both Sir Edward and Lady Moseley possessed a large 
 share of personal beauty when young, and it had descended 
 in common to all their children, but more particularly to 
 their two youngest daughters. Although a strong family 
 resemblance, both in person and character, existed between 
 these closely-connected relatives, yet it existed with shades 
 of distinction that had very different effects on their con- 
 duct, and led to results which stamped their lives with 
 widely-differing degrees of happiness. 
 
 Between the families at Moseley Hall and the rectory 
 there had existed for many years an intimacy founded on 
 esteem and on long intercourse. Doctor Ives was a clergy- 
 man of deep piety, and of very considerable talents ; he po's- 
 sessed, in addition to a moderate benefice, an independent 
 fortune, in right of his wife, who was the only child of a 
 distinguished naval officer. Both were well connected, 
 well bred, and well disposed to their fellow-creatures. 
 They were blessed with but one child, the young divine 
 we have mentioned, who promised to equal his father in 
 all those qualities which had made the doctor the delight 
 of his friends, and almost the idol of his parishioners. 
 
 Between Francis Ives and Clara Moseley there had been 
 an attachment, which had grown with their years, from 
 childhood. He had been her companion in their youthful 
 recreations, had espoused her little quarrels, and partici- 
 pated in her innocent pleasures, for so many years, and 
 with such an evident preference for each other in the 
 youthful pair, that, on leaving college to enter on the du- 
 ties of his sacred calling with his father, Francis rightly 
 judged that none other would make his future life as happy 
 as the mild, the tender, the unassuming Clara. Their pas- 
 sion, if so gentle a feeling deserve the term, received the 
 sanction of their parents, and the two families waited only 
 for the establishment of the young divine, to perfect the 
 union. 
 
 The retirement of Sir Edward's family had been uniform, 
 with the exception of an occasional visit to an aged uncle 
 of his wife's, and who, in return, spent much of his time 
 with them at the Hall, and who had openly declared his 
 intention of making the children of Lady Moseley his heirs. 
 The visits of Mr. Benfield were always hailed with joy, and 
 as an event that called for more than ordinary gayety ; for, 
 
io PRECA UT1ON'. 
 
 although rough in mapner, and somewhat infirm from 
 years, the old bachelor, who was rather addicted to the 
 customs in which he had indulged in his youth, and was 
 fond of dwelling on the scenes of former days, was uni- 
 versally beloved where he was intimately known, for an 
 unbounded though eccentric philanthropy. 
 
 The illness of the mother-in-law of Mrs. Wilson had 
 called her to Bath the winter preceding the spring when 
 our history commences, and she had been accompanied 
 thither by her nephew and favorite niece. John and Emily, 
 during the month of their residence in that city, were in 
 the practice of making daily excursions in its environs. It 
 was in one of these little drives that they ^were of accidental 
 service to a very young and very beautiful woman, appar- 
 ently in low health. They had taken her up in their car- 
 riage, and conveyed her to a farm-house where she resided, 
 during a faintness which had come over her in a walk ; and 
 her beauty, air, and manner, altogether so different from 
 those around her, had interested them both to a painful 
 degree. They had ventured to call the following day to 
 inquire after her wel-fare, and this visit led to a slight 
 intercourse, which continued for the fortnight they re- 
 mained there. 
 
 John had given himself some trouble to ascertain who 
 she was, but in vain. They could merely learn that her 
 life was blameless, that she saw no one but themselves, and 
 her dialect raised a suspicion that she was not English. It 
 was to this unknown fair Emily alluded in her playful at- 
 tempt to stop the heedless rattle of her brother, who was 
 not always restrained from uttering what he thought by a 
 proper regard for the feelings of others. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE morning succeeding the day of the dinner at the 
 Hall, Mrs. Wilson, with all her nieces and her nephew, 
 availed herself of the fineness of the weather to walk to the 
 rectory, where they were all in the habit of making in- 
 formal and friendly visits. They had just got out of the 
 
 little village of B , which lay in their route, when a 
 
 rather handsome travelling-carriage and four passed them, 
 and took the road which led to the Deanery. 
 
 "As I live," cried John, "there go our new neighbors 
 
PRECAUTION. n 
 
 the Jarvises ; yes, yes, that must be the old merchant muffled 
 up in the corner ; I mistook him at first for a pile of band- 
 boxes ; then the rosy-cheeked lady, with so many feathers, 
 must be the old lady Heaven forgive me, Mrs. Jarvis I 
 mean ay, and the two others the belles." 
 
 "You are in a hurry to pronounce them belles, John," 
 said Jane, pettishly ; " it would be well to see more of 
 them before you speak so decidedly." 
 
 " Oh ! " replied John, " I have seen enough of them, and " 
 he was interrupted by the whirling of a tilbury and tan- 
 dem, followed by a couple of servants on horseback. All 
 about this vehicle and its masters bore the stamp of de- 
 cided fashion ; and our party had followed it with their 
 eyes for a short distance, when, having reached a fork in 
 the roads, it stopped, and evidently waited the coining up 
 of the pedestrians, as if to make an inquiry. A single 
 glance of the eye was sufficient to apprise the gentleman 
 on the cushion (who held the reins) of the kind of people 
 he had to deal with ; and stepping from his carriage, he 
 met them with a graceful bow, and after handsomely apol- 
 ogizing for the trouble he was giving, he desired to know 
 which road led to the Deanery. " The right," replied John, 
 returning the salutation. 
 
 "Ask them, colonel," cried the charioteer, "whether 
 the old gentleman went right or not." 
 
 The colonel, in the manner of a perfect gentleman, 
 but with a look of compassion for his companion's want of 
 tact, made the desired inquiry ; which being satisfacto- 
 rily answered, he again bowed, and was retiring, as one of 
 several pointers who followed the cavalcade sprang upon 
 Jane, and soiled her walking-dress with his dirty feet. 
 
 " Come hither, Dido ! " cried the colonel, hastening to 
 beat the dog back from the young lady ; and again he 
 apologized in the same collected and handsome manner. 
 Then turning to one of the servants, he said, " Call in the 
 dog, sir," and rejoined his companion. The air of this 
 
 fentleman was peculiarly pleasant ; it would not have 
 een difficult to pronounce him a soldier had he not been 
 addressed as such by his younger, and certainly less pol- 
 ished companion. The colonel was apparently about 
 thirty, and of extremely handsome face and figure ; while 
 his driving-friend appeared several years younger, and 
 of altogether different material. 
 
 " I wonder," said Jane, as they turned a corner which 
 hid them from view, "who they are ?" 
 
12 PRECA UTION. 
 
 " Who they are ? " cried the brother ; " why, the Jar- 
 vises, to be sure ; didn't you hear them ask the road to 
 the Deanery ? " 
 
 "Oh ! the one that drove, he maybe a Jarvis, but not the 
 gentleman who spoke to us surely not, John ; besides, he 
 was called colonel, you know." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said John, with one of his quizzing expres- 
 sions, " Colonel Jarvis that must be the alderman ; they 
 are commonly colonels of city volunteers ; yes, that must 
 have been the old gem'mun who spoke to us, and I was 
 right, after all, about the bandboxes." 
 
 "You forget," said Clara, smiling, "the polite inquiry 
 concerning the old gem'mun." 
 
 " Ah ! true ; who the deuce can this colonel be, then 
 for young Jarvis is only a captain, I know. Who do you 
 think he is, Jane ? " 
 
 " How do you think I can tell you, John ? But, whoever 
 he is, he owns the tilbury, although he did not drive it ; 
 and he is a gentleman both by birth and manners." 
 
 " Why, Jane, if you know so much of him, you should 
 know more ; but it is all guess with you." 
 
 "No, it is not guess ; I am certain of what I say." 
 
 The aunt and sisters, who had taken little interest in 
 the dialogue, looked at her with some surprise, which John 
 observing, he exclaimed, " Poh ! she knows no more than 
 we all know." 
 
 " Indeed, I do." 
 
 " Poh, poh ! if you know, tell." 
 
 " Why, the arms were different." 
 
 John laughed as he said, " That is a good reason, sure 
 enough, for the tilbury's being the colonel's property ; but 
 now for his blood ; how did you discover that, sis by his 
 gait and actions, as we say of horses ? " 
 
 Jane colored a little, arid laughed faintly. u The arms 
 on the tilbury had six quarterings." 
 
 Emily now laughed, and Mrs. Wilson and Clara smiled, 
 while John continued his teasing until they reached the 
 rectory. 
 
 While chatting with the doctor and his wife, -Francis 
 returned from his morning ride, and told them the Jarvis 
 family had arrived. He had witnessed an unpleasant ac- 
 cident to a gig, in which were Captain Jarvis and a friend, 
 a Colonel Egerton ; it had been awkwardly driven in turn- 
 ing into the Deanery gate, and upset. The colonel re- 
 ceived some injury to his ankle nothing serious, how- 
 
PRECAUTION. !| 
 
 ever, he hoped ; but such as to put him under the care of 
 the young ladies, probably, for a few days. After the ex- 
 clamations which usually follow such details, Jane vent- 
 ured to inquire who Colonel Egerton was. 
 
 " I understood at the time, from one of the servants, 
 that he is a nephew of Sir Edgar Egerton, and a lieuten- 
 ant-colonel on half pay, or furlough, or some such thing." 
 
 " How did he bear his misfortune, Mr. Francis ? " in- 
 quired Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " Certainly as a gentleman, madam, if not as a Christian," 
 replied the young clergyman, slyly smiling ; " indeed, most 
 men of gallantry would, I believe, rejoice in an accident 
 which drew forth so much sympathy as both the Miss Jar- 
 vises manifested." 
 
 " How fortunate you should all happen to be near ! " 
 said the tender-hearted Clara. 
 
 "Are the young ladies pretty ?" asked Jane, with some- 
 thing of hesitation in her manner. 
 
 " Why, I rather think they are ; but I took very little 
 notice of their appearance, as the colonel was really in 
 evident pain.". 
 
 " This, then," cried the doctor, " affords me an additional 
 excuse for calling on them at an early day ; so I'll e'en go 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " I trust Doctor Ives wants no apologies for performing 
 his duty," said Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " He is fond of making them, though," said Mrs. Ives, 
 speaking with a benevolent smile, and for the first time in 
 the little conversation. 
 
 It was then arranged that the rector should make his 
 official visit, as intended, by himself ; and, on his report, 
 the ladies would act. After remaining at the rectory an 
 hour, they returned to the Hall, attended by Francis. 
 
 The next day the doctor drove in, and informed them 
 the Jarvis family were happily settled, and the colonel in 
 no danger, excepting from the fascinations of the two 
 young ladies, who took such palpable care of him that he 
 wanted for nothing, and they might drive over whenever 
 they pleased, without fear of intruding unseasonably. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis received his guests with the frankness of good 
 feelings, if not with the polish of high life ; while his wife, 
 who seldom thought of the former, would have been mor- 
 tally offended with the person who could have suggested 
 that she omitted any of the elegances of the latter. Hei 
 daughters were rather pretty, but wanted, both in appear- 
 
I 4 PRECA UT10N. 
 
 ance and manner, the inexpressible air of haut ton which so 
 eminently distinguished the easy but polished deportment 
 of Colonel Egerton, whom they found reclining on a sofa, 
 with his leg on a chair, amply secured in numerous band- 
 ages, but unable to rise. Notwithstanding the awkwardness 
 of his situation, he was by far the least discomposed per- 
 son of the party, and having pleasantly excused himself, he 
 appeared to think no more of the matter. 
 
 The captain, Mrs. Jarvis remarked, had gone out with his 
 dogs to try the grounds around them, " for he seems to live 
 only w T ith his horses and his gun : young men, my lady, 
 nowadays, appear to forget that there are any things in the 
 world but themselves. Now I told Harry that your lady- 
 ship and daughters would favor us with a call this morn- 
 ing ; but no there he went, as if Mr. Jarvis \vas unable to 
 buy us a dinner, and we should all starve but for his quails 
 and pheasants." 
 
 " Quails and pheasants !" cried John, in consternation, 
 "does Captain Jarvis shoot quails and pheasants at this time 
 of the year ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Jarvis, sir," said Colonel Egerton, with a correct- 
 ing smile, " landerstands the allegiance due from us gen- 
 tlemen to the ladies better than the rules of sporting ; my 
 friend the captain has taken his fishing-rod, I believe." 
 
 " It is all one, fish or birds," continued Mrs. Jarvis ; " he 
 is out of the way w r hen he is wanted, and I believe we can 
 buy fish as easily as birds. I wish he would take pattern 
 after yourself, colonel, in these matters." 
 
 Colonel Egerton laughed pleasantly, but he did not 
 blush ; and Miss Jarvis observed, with a look of something 
 like admiration thrown on his reclining figure, that "when 
 Harry had been in the army as long as his friend, he 
 would know the usages of good society, she hoped, as 
 well." 
 
 "Yes," said her mother, " the army is certainly the place 
 to polish a young man ; " and turning to Mrs. Wilson, she 
 abruptly added, "Your husband, I believe, was in the 
 army, ma'am ? " 
 
 " I hope," said Emily, hastily, " that we shall have the 
 pleasure of seeing you soon ; Miss Jarvis, at the Hall," pre- 
 venting by her promptitude the necessity of a reply from 
 her aunt. The young lady promised to make an early 
 visit, and the subject changed to a general and uninterest- 
 ing discourse on the neighborhood, the country, the 
 weather, and other ordinary topics. 
 
PRECA UTION. 15 
 
 "Now, John/' cried Jane in triumph, as they drove 
 from the door, " you must acknowledge my heraldic 
 witchcraft, as you are pleased to call it, is right for once 
 at least." 
 
 " On ! no doubt, Jenny," said John, who was accustomed 
 to use that appellation to her as a provocation, when he 
 wished what he called an enlivening scene ; but Mrs. 
 Wilson put a damper on his hopes by a remark to his 
 mother, and the habitual respect of both the combatants 
 kept them silent. 
 
 Jane Moseley was endowed by nature with an excellent 
 understanding, one at least equal to that of her brother, 
 but she wanted the more essential requisites of a well- 
 governed mind. Masters had been provided by Sir Ed- 
 ward for all his daughters, and if they were not acquainted 
 with the usual acquirements of young women in their rank 
 of life, it was not his fault : his system of economy had 
 not embraced a denial of opportunity to any of his chil- 
 dren, and the baronet was apt to think all was done, when 
 they were put where all might might be done. Feeling 
 herself and parents entitled to enter into all the gayeties 
 and splendors of some of the richer families in their 
 vicinity, Jane, who had grown up during the temporary 
 eclipse of Sir Edward's fortunes, had sought that self- 
 consolation so common to people in her situation, which 
 was to be found in reviewing the former grandeur of her 
 house, and she had thus contracted a degree of family 
 pride. If Clara's weaknesses were less striking than those 
 of Jane, it was because she had less imagination, and be- 
 cause that in loving Francis Ives she had so long admired 
 a character where so little was to be found that could be 
 censured, and she might be said to have contracted a habit 
 of judging correctly, without being able at all times to give 
 a reason for her conduct or her opinions. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE day fixed for one of the stated visits of Mr. Benfield 
 had now arrived ; and John, with Emily, who was the old 
 bachelor's favorite niece, went in the baronet's post-chaise 
 
 to the town of F , a distance of twenty miles, to meet 
 
 him, in order to accompany him in the remainder of his 
 journey to the Hall : it being a settled rule with the old 
 
16 PRECA UTION. 
 
 man that his carriage-horses should return to their own 
 stables every night, where he imagined they could alone 
 find that comfort and care to which their age and services 
 gave them a claim. The day was uncommonly pleasant, 
 and the young people were in high spirits with the ex- 
 pectation of meeting their respected relative, whose ab- 
 sence had been prolonged a few days by a severe fit of the 
 gout. 
 
 " Now, Emily," cried John, as he settled himself com- 
 fortably by the side of his sister in the chaise, " let me 
 know honestly how you like the Jarvises, and particularly 
 how you like the handsome colonel." 
 
 " Then, John, honestly, I neither like, nor dislike the 
 Jarvises or the handsome colonel." 
 
 " Well, then, there is no great diversity in our senti- 
 ments, as Jane would say." 
 
 "John!" 
 
 " Emily ! " 
 
 " I do not like to hear you speak so disrespectfully of 
 our sister, whom I am sure you love as tenderly as I do 
 myself." 
 
 " I acknowledge my error," said the brother, taking her 
 hand and affectionately kissing it, " and will endeavor to 
 offend no more ; but this Colonel Egerton, sister, is cer- 
 tainly a gentleman, both by blood and in manners, as Jane" 
 Emily interrupted him with a laugh, which John took 
 very good-naturedly, repeating his remark without alluding 
 to their sister. 
 
 "Yes," said Emily, "he is genteel in his deportment, if 
 that be what you mean ; I know nothing of his family." 
 
 "Oh, I have taken a peep into Jane's 'Baronetage,' 
 where I find him set down as Sir Edgar's heir." 
 
 " There is something about him," said Emily, musing, 
 "that I do not much admire ; he is too easy there is no 
 nature. I always feel afraid such people will laugh at me 
 as soon as my back is turned, and for those very things 
 they seem most to admire to my face. If I might be allowed 
 to judge, I should say his manner wants one thing, without 
 which no one can be truly agreeable." 
 
 " What's that ? " 
 
 " Sincerity." 
 
 " Ah ! that's my great recommendation. But I am afraid 
 I shall have to take the poacher up, with his quails and 
 his pheasants, indeed." 
 
 "You know the colonel explained that to be a mistake," 
 
PRECA UTIOM i 7 
 
 " What they call explaining away ; but, unluckily, I saw 
 the gentleman returning withMiis gun on his shoulder, and 
 followed by a brace of pointers." 
 
 " There's a specimen of the colonel's manners, then," 
 said Emily, smiling ; "it will do until the truth be known." 
 
 " And Jane, when she saw him also, praised his good 
 nature and consideration, in what she was pleased to call 
 relieving the awkwardness of my remark." 
 
 Emily, finding her brother disposed to dwell on the 
 foibles of Jane, a thing he was rather addicted to at times, 
 was silent. They rode some distance before John, who 
 was ever as ready to atone as he was to offend, again 
 apologized, again promised reformation, and during the re- 
 mainder of the ride only forgot himself twice more in the 
 same way. 
 
 They reached F - two hours before the lumbering 
 coach of their uncle drove into the yard of the inn, and had 
 sufficient time to refresh their own horses for the journey 
 homeward. 
 
 Mr. Benfield was a bachelor of eighty, but retained the 
 personal activity of a man of sixty. He was strongly at- 
 tached to all the fashions and opinions of his youth, during 
 which he had sat one term in Parliament, having been a 
 great beau and courtier in the commencement of the reign. 
 A disappointment in an affair of the heart drove him into 
 retirement ; and for the last fifty years he had dwelt ex- 
 clusively at a seat he owned within forty miles of Moseley 
 Hall, the mistress of which was the only child bf his only 
 brother. In figure, he was tall and spare, very erect for 
 his years ; and he faithfully preserved in his attire, ser- 
 vants, carriages, and indeed everything around him, as 
 much of the fashions of his youth as circumstances would 
 allow. Such, then, was a faint outline of the character 
 and appearance of the old man, who, dressed in a cocked 
 hat, bag-wig, and sword, took the offered arm of John 
 Moseley to alight from his coach. 
 
 "So," cried the old gentleman, having made good his 
 footing on the ground, as he stopped short and stared 
 John in the face, " you have made out to come twenty 
 miles to meet an old cynic, have you, sir ? But I thought 
 I bid thee bring Emmy with thee." 
 
 John pointed to the window, where his sister stood anx- 
 iously watching her uncle's movements. On catching her 
 eye, he smiled kindly, and pursued his way into the house, 
 talking to himself. 
 
18 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 " Ay, there she is, indeed. I remember now, when 1 
 was a youngster, of going with my kinsman, old Lord 
 Gosford, to meet his sister, the Lady Juliana, when she 
 first came from school" this was the lady whose infidelity 
 had driven him from the world " and a beauty she was 
 indeed, something like Emmy there ; only she was taller, 
 and her eyes were black, and her hair too, that was black ; 
 and she was not so fair as Emmy, and she was fatter, and 
 she stooped a little very little. Oh ! they are wonderfully 
 alike, though ; don't you think they were, nephew?" He 
 stopped at the door of the room ; while John, who in his 
 description could not see a resemblance which existed no- 
 where but in the old man's affections, was fain to say, 
 " Yes ; but they were related, you know, uncle, and that 
 explains the likeness." 
 
 "True, boy, true," said his uncle, pleased at a reason 
 for a thing he wished and which flattered his propensities. 
 He had once before told Emily she put him in mind of his 
 housekeeper, a woman as old as himself, and without a 
 tooth in her head. 
 
 On meeting his niece, Mr. Benfield who, like many 
 others that feel strongly, wore in common the affectation 
 of indifference and displeasure yielded to his fondness, 
 and folding her in his arms, kissed her affectionately, while 
 a tear glistened in his eye ; and then pushing her gently 
 from him he exclaimed, " Come, come, Emmy, don't 
 strangle me, don't strangle me, girl ; let me live in peace 
 the little while I have to remain here so," seating himself 
 composedly in an arm-chair his niece had placed for him 
 with a cushion, " so Anne writes me, Sir William Harris 
 has let the Deanery." 
 
 " Oh, yes, uncle," cried John. 
 
 " I'll thank you, young gentleman," said Mr. Benfield, 
 sternly, "not to interrupt me when I am speaking to a 
 lady ; that is, if you please, sir. Then Sir William has let 
 the Deanery to a London merchant, a Mr. Jarvis. Now I 
 knew three people of that name ; one was a hackney coach- 
 man, when I was a member of the Parliament of this realm, 
 and drove me often to the House ; another was mlet-de- 
 chambre to my Lord Gosford ; and the third, I take it, is 
 the very man who has become your neighbor. If it be the 
 person I mean, Emmy dear, he is like like aye, very like 
 old Peter, my steward." 
 
 John, unable to contain his mirth at this discovery of a 
 likeness between the prototype of Mr. Benfield himself in 
 
PRECA UTION. 
 
 ig 
 
 leanness of figure, and the jolly rotundity of the merchant, 
 was obliged to leave the room ; Emily, though she could 
 not forbear smiling at the comparison, quietly said, " You 
 will meet him to-morrow, dear uncle, and then you will be 
 able to judge for yourself." 
 
 "Yes, yes," muttered the old man, "very like old Peter, 
 my steward ; as like as two peas." The parallel was by no 
 means as ridiculous as might be supposed ; its history be- 
 ing as follows : 
 
 Mr. Benfield had placed twenty thousand pounds in the 
 hands of a broker, with positive orders for him to pay it away 
 immediately for government stock, bought by the former on 
 his account ; but disregarding this injunction, the broker 
 had managed the transaction in such a way as to postpone 
 the payment, until, on his failure, he had given up that and 
 a much larger sum to Mr. Jarvis, to satisfy what he called an 
 honorary debt. In elucidating the transaction Mr. Jarvis 
 paid Benfield Lodge a visit, and honestly restored the 
 bachelor his property. This act and the high opinion he 
 entertained of Mrs. Wilson, with his unbounded love for 
 Emily, were the few things which prevented his believing 
 some dreadful judgment was about to visit this world for 
 its increasing wickedness and follies. As his own stew- 
 ard was one of the honestest fellows living, he had ever 
 after fancied that there was a personal resemblance be- 
 tween him and the conscientious merchant. 
 
 The horses being ready, the old bachelor was placed care- 
 fully between his nephew and niece, and in that manner 
 they rode on quietly to the Hall, the dread of accident 
 keeping Mr. Benfield silent most of the way. On passing, 
 however, a stately castle, about ten miles from the termi- 
 nation of their ride, he began one of his speeches with, 
 
 " Emmy, dear, does Lord Bolton come often to see you ? " 
 
 "Very seldom, sir ; his employment keeps him much of 
 his time at St. James's, and then he has an estate in Ire- 
 land." 
 
 " I knew his father well he was distantly connected by 
 marriage with my friend Lord Gosford ; you could not 
 remember him, I suspect" (John rolled his eyes at this 
 suggestion of his sister's recollection of a man who had 
 been forty years dead) ; " he always voted with me in the 
 Parliament of this realm ; he was a thoroughly honest 
 man ; very much such a man to look at as Peter Johnson, 
 my steward ; but I am told his son likes the good things 
 of the ministry ; well, well, William Pitt was the only min- 
 
2o PRECA UT1ON. 
 
 ister to my mind. There was the Scotchman of whom they 
 made a marquis ; I never could endure him always voted 
 against him." 
 
 " Right or wrong, uncle," cried John, who loved a little 
 mischief in his heart. 
 
 " No, sir right, but never wrong. Lord Gosford always 
 voted against him too ; and do you think, jackanapes, that 
 my friend the Earl of Gosford and and myself were ever 
 wrong ? No, sir, men in my day were different creatures 
 from what they are now : we were never wrong, sir ; we loved 
 our country, and had no motive for being in the wrong." 
 
 " How was it with Lord Bute, uncle ? " 
 
 " Lord Bute, sir," cried the old man, with great warmth, 
 "was the minister, sir he was the minister; ay, he was 
 the minister, sir, and was paid for what he did," 
 
 " But Lord Chatham, was he not the minister too ?. " 
 
 Now nothing vexed the old gentleman more than to hear 
 William Pitt called by his tardy honors ; and yet, unwilling 
 to give up what he thought his political opinions, he ex- 
 claimed, with an unanswerable positiveness of argument, 
 
 " Billy Pitt, sir, was the minister, sir ; but but but, he 
 was our minister, sir." 
 
 Emily, unable to see her uncle agitated by such useless 
 disputes, threw a reproachful glance on her brother as she 
 observed, timidly, 
 
 "That was a glorious administration, sir, I believe." 
 
 "Glorious indeed L Emmy dear," said the bachelor, soft- 
 ening with the sound of her voice and the recollections of 
 his younger days ; " we beat the French everywhere in 
 America in Germany ; we took," counting on his fingers, 
 " we took Quebec yes, Lord Gosford lost a cousin there ; 
 and we took all the Canadas ; and we took their fleets : 
 there was a young man killed in the battle between Hawke 
 and Conflans, who was much attached to Lady Juliana 
 poor soul ! how much she regretted him when dead, though 
 she never could abide him when living ah ! she was a 
 tender-hearted creature ! " 
 
 Mr. Benfield, like many others, continued to love im- 
 aginary qualities in his mistress, long after her heartless 
 coquetry had disgusted him with her person : a kind of 
 feeling which springs from self-love, which finds it neces- 
 sary to seek consolation in creating beauties that may 
 justify our follies to ourselves, and which often keeps alive 
 the semblance of the passion when even hope, or real ad- 
 miration, is extinct. 
 
PRECA UTION. 51 
 
 On reaching the Hall every one was rejoiced to see their 
 really affectionate and worthy relative, and the evening 
 passed in the tranquil enjoyment of the blessings which 
 Providence had profusely scattered around the family of 
 the baronet, but which are too often hazarded by a neglect 
 of duty that springs from too great security, or an indo- 
 lence which renders us averse to the precaution necessary 
 to insure their continuance. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "You are welcome, Sir Edward," said the venerable 
 rector, as he took the baronet by the hand ; " I was fear- 
 ful a return of your rheumatism would deprive us of this 
 pleasure, and prevent my making you acquainted with the 
 new occupants of the Deanery, who have consented to 
 dine with us to-day, and to whom I have promised, in 
 particular, an introduction to Sir Edward Moseley." 
 
 " I thank you, my dear doctor," rejoined the baronet ; 
 "I have not only come myself, but have persuaded Mr. 
 Benfield to make one of the party ; there he comes, lean- 
 ing on Emily's arm, and finding fault with Mrs. Wilson's 
 new-fashioned barouche, which he says has given him 
 cold." 
 
 The rector received the unexpected guest with the kind- 
 ness of his nature, and an inward smile at the incongruous 
 assemblage he was likely to have around him by the 
 arrival of the Jarvises, who at that moment drove to his 
 door. The introductions between the baronet and the 
 new comers had passed, and Miss Jarvis had made a pret- 
 tily worded apology on behalf of the colonel, who was not 
 yet well enough to come out, but whose politeness had in- 
 sisted on their not remaining at home on his account, as 
 Mr. Benfield, having composedly put on his spectacles, 
 walked deliberately up to the place where the merchant 
 had seated himself, and having examined him through his 
 glasses to his satisfaction, took them off, and carefully 
 wiping them, he began to talk to himself as he put them 
 into his pocket " No, no ; it's not Jack, the hackney 
 coachman, nor rny Lord Gosford's gentleman, but " cor- 
 dially holding out both hands " it's the man who saved 
 my twenty thousand pounds." 
 
 'Mr. Jarvis, whom shame and embarrassment had kept 
 
22 PRECA UTION. 
 
 silent during this examination, exchanged greetings sin- 
 cerely with his old acquaintance, who now took a seat in 
 silence by his side ; while his wife, whose face had begun 
 to kindle with indignation at the commencement of the 
 old gentleman's soliloquy, observing that somehow or other 
 it had not only terminated without degradation to her 
 spouse, but with something like credit, turned compla- 
 cently to Mrs. Ives, with an apology for the absence of 
 her son. 
 
 " I cannot divine, ma'am, where he has got to ; he is 
 ever keeping us waiting for him." And, addressing Jane, 
 " These military men become so unsettled in their habits, 
 that I often tell Harry he should never quit the camp." 
 
 " In Hyde Park, you should add, my dear, for he has 
 never been in any other," bluntly observed her hus- 
 band. 
 
 To this speech no reply was made, but it was evidently 
 little relished by the ladies of the family, who were a good 
 deal jealous of the laurels of the only hero their race had 
 ever produced. The arrival and introduction of the cap- 
 tain himself changed the discourse, which turned on the 
 comforts of their present residence. 
 
 " Pray, my lady," cried the captain, who had taken a 
 chair familiarly by the side of the baronet's wife, "why is 
 the house called the Deanery ? I am afraid I shall be taken 
 for a son of the Church, when I invite my friends to visit 
 my father at the Deanery." 
 
 " But you may add at the same time, sir, if you please," 
 dryly remarked Mr. Jarvis, "that it is occupied by an old 
 man who has been preaching and lecturing all his life ; 
 and, like others of the trade, I believe, in vain." 
 
 " You must except our good friend the doctor here, at 
 least, sir," said Mrs. Wilson, who, observing that her sister 
 shrank from a familiarity she was unused to, took upon 
 herself the office of replying to the captain's question. 
 " The father of the present Sir William Harris held that 
 station in the Church ; and, although the house was his 
 private property, it took its name from the circumstance, 
 which has been continued ever since." 
 
 " Is it not a droll life Sir William leads," cried Miss 
 Jarvis, looking at John Moseley, " riding about all summer 
 from one watering-place to another, and letting his house 
 year after year in the manner he does ? " 
 
 " Sir William," said Doctor Ives, gravely, " is devoted to 
 his daughter's wishes ; and, since his accession to his title, 
 
PRRCA VTTON-. 23 
 
 has come into possession of another residence in an ad- 
 joining county, which, I believe, he retains in his own 
 hands." 
 
 " Are you acquainted with Miss Harris ? " continued the 
 lady, addressing herself to Clara ; though, without waiting 
 for an answer, she added, "she is a great belle all the 
 gentlemen are dying for her." 
 
 " Or her fortune," said her sister, with a pretty toss of 
 the head ; " for my part, I never could see anything so 
 captivating in her, although so much is said about her at 
 Bath and Brighton." 
 
 "You know her, then," mildly observed Clara. 
 
 " Why, I cannot say we are exactly acquainted," the 
 young lady hesitatingly answered, coloring violently. 
 
 " What do you mean by exactly acquainted, Sally ? " put 
 in the father, with a laugh ; " did you ever speak to, or 
 were you ever in a room with her, in your life, unless it 
 might be at a concert or a ball ? " 
 
 The mortification of Miss Sarah was too evident for con- 
 cealment, and it happily was relieved by a summons to 
 dinner. 
 
 " Never, my dear child," said Mrs. Wilson to Emily the 
 aunt being fond of introducing a moral from the occasional 
 incidents of every-day life " never subject yourself to a 
 similar mortification, by commenting on the characters of 
 those you don't know : ignorance makes you liable to great 
 errors ; and if they should happen to be above you in life, 
 it will only excite their contempt, should it reach their 
 ears, while those to whom your remarks are made will 
 think it envy." 
 
 "Truth is sometimes blundered on," whispered John, 
 who held his sister's arm, waiting for his aunt to precede 
 them to the dining-room. 
 
 The merchant paid too great a compliment to the rector's 
 dinner to think of renewing the disagreeable conversation ; 
 and as John Moseley and the young clergyman were seated 
 next the two ladies, they soon forgot what, among them- 
 selves, they would call their father's rudeness, in receiving 
 the attentions of a couple of remarkably agreeable young 
 men. 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Francis, when do you preach for us?" asked 
 Mr. Haughton ; " I'm very anxious to hear you hold forth 
 from the pulpit, where I have so often heard your father 
 with pleasure. I doubt not you will prove orthodox, or 
 you will be the only man, I believe, in the congregation. 
 
24 PR RCA UTIOtf. 
 
 the rector has left in ignorance of the theory of our relig. 
 ion, at least." 
 
 The doctor bowed to the compliment, as he replied to 
 the question for his son, that on the next Sunday they were 
 to have the pleasure of hearing Frank, who had promised 
 to assist him on that day. 
 
 " Any prospects of a living soon ? " continued Mr. 
 Haughton, helping himself bountifully to a piece of plum- 
 pudding as he spoke. John Moseley laughed aloud, and 
 Clara blushed to the eyes ; while the doctor, turning to Sir 
 Edward, observed, with an air of interest, " Sir Edward, 
 the living of Bolton is vacant, and I should like exceed- 
 ingly to obtain it for my son. The advowson belongs to 
 the earl, who will dispose of it only to great interest, I am 
 afraid." 
 
 Clara was certainly too busily occupied in picking rai- 
 sins'from her pudding to hear this remark, but accidentally 
 stole, from under her long eyelashes, a timid glance at her 
 father, as he replied 
 
 " I am sorry, my friend, I have not sufficient interest 
 with his lordship to apply on my own account ; but he is 
 so seldom here, we are barely acquainted " and the good 
 baronet looked really concerned. 
 
 " Clara," said Francis Ives, in a low and affectionate tone, 
 " have you read the books I sent you ? " 
 
 Clara answered him with a smile in the negative, but 
 promised amendment as soon as she had leisure. 
 
 " Do you ride much on horseback, Mr. Moseley ? " ab- 
 ruptly asked Miss Sarah, turning her back on the young 
 divine, and facing the gentleman she addressed. John, 
 who was now hemmed in between the sisters, replied with 
 a rueful expression that brought a smile into the face of 
 Emily, who was placed opposite to him 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, and sometimes I am ridden." 
 
 " Ridden, sir ! what do you mean by that ! " 
 
 " Oh ! only my aunt there occasionally gives me a lect- 
 ure." 
 
 " I understand," said the lady, pointing slyly with her 
 finger at her own father. 
 
 " Does it feel good ? " John inquired, with a look of great 
 sympathy. But the lady, who now felt awkwardly" without 
 knowing exactly why, shook her head in silence, and forced 
 a faint laugh. 
 
 " Whom have we here ? " cried Captain Jarvis, who was 
 looking out at a window which commanded a view of the 
 
PR EC A UTIOtf. 25 
 
 approach to the house "the apothecary and his attendant, 
 judging from the equipage." 
 
 The rector threw an inquiring look on a servant, who 
 told his master they were strangers to him. 
 
 " Have them shown up, doctor," cried the benevolent 
 baronet, who loved to see every one as happy as himself, 
 " and give them some of your excellent pasty, for the sake 
 of hospitality and the credit of your cook, I beg of you." 
 
 As this request was politely seconded by others of the 
 party, the rector ordered his servants to show in the 
 strangers. 
 
 On opening the parlor door, a gentleman, apparently 
 sixty years of age, appeared, leaning on the arm of a youth 
 of five-and-twenty. There was sufficient resemblance be- 
 tween the two for the most indifferent observer to pro- 
 nounce them father and son ; but the helpless debility and 
 emaciated figure of the former were finely contrasted by 
 the vigorous health and manly beauty of the latter, who 
 supported his venerable parent into the room with a grace 
 and tenderness that struck most of the beholders with a 
 sensation of pleasure. The doctor and Mrs. Ives rose from 
 their seats involuntarily, and each stood for a moment lost 
 in an astonishment that was mingled with grief. Recol- 
 lecting himself, the rector grasped the extended hand of 
 the senior in both his own, and endeavored to utter some- 
 thing, but in vain. The tears followed each other down 
 his cheeks, as he looked on the faded and careworn figure 
 which stood before him ; while his wife, unable to control 
 her feelings, sank back into a chair, and wept aloud. 
 
 Throwing open the door of an adjoining room, and re- 
 taining the hand of the invalid, the doctor gently led the 
 way, followed by his wife and son. The former, having 
 recovered from the first burst of her sorrow, and regard- 
 less of everything else, now anxiously watched the en- 
 feebled step of the stranger. On reaching the door, they 
 both turned and bowed to the company in a manner of so 
 much dignity, mingled with sweetness, that all, not except- 
 ing Mr. Benfield, rose from their seats to return the salu- 
 tation. On passing from the dining-parlor, the door was 
 closed, leaving the company standing round the table in 
 mute astonishment and commiseration. Not a word had 
 been spoken, and the rector's family had left them with- 
 out apology or explanation. Francis, however, soon re- 
 turned, and was followed in a few minutes by his mother, 
 who, slightly apologizing for her absence, turned the dis- 
 
16 PRECA UTION. 
 
 course on the approaching Sunday, and the intention of 
 Francis to preach on that day. The Moseleys were too 
 well-bred to make any inquiries, and the Deanery family 
 was afraid. Sir Edward retired at a very early hour, and 
 was followed by the remainder of the party. 
 
 " Well," cried Mrs. Jarvis, as they drove from the door, 
 "this may be good breeding; but, for my part, I think 
 both the doctor and Mrs. Ives behaved very rudely, with 
 the crying and sobbing." 
 
 " They are nobody of much consequence," cried her 
 eldest daughter, casting a contemptuous glance on a plain 
 travelling-chaise which stood before the rector's stables. 
 
 " 'Twas sickening," said Miss Sarah, with a shrug ; 
 while her father, turning his eyes on each speaker in suc- 
 cession, very deliberately helped himself to a pinch of 
 snuff, his ordinary recourse against a family quarrel. The 
 curiosity of the ladies was, however, more lively than they 
 chose to avow ; and Mrs. Jarvis bade her maid go over to 
 the rectory that evening, with her compliments to Mrs. 
 Ives : she had lost a lace veil, which her maid knew, and 
 she thought it might have been left at the rectory. 
 
 " And, Jones, when you are there, you can inquire of the 
 servants mind, of the servants I would not distress Mrs. 
 Ives for the world how Mr. Mr. what's his name ? 
 uh ! I have forgotten his name ; just bring me his name 
 too, Jones ; and, as it may make some difference in our 
 party, just find out how long they stay ; and and any 
 other little thing, Jones, which can be of use, you 
 know." 
 
 Off went Jones, and within an hour she had returned. 
 With an important look, she commenced her narrative, the 
 daughters being accidentally present, and it might be on 
 purpose. 
 
 " Why, ma'am, I went across the fields, and William was 
 good enough to go with me ; so when we got there, I rang, 
 and they showed us into the servants' room, and I gave my 
 message, and the veil was not there. Why, ma'am, there's 
 the veil now, on the back o' that chair." 
 
 " Very well, very well, Jones, never mind the veil," cried 
 the impatient mistress. 
 
 "So, ma'am, while they were looking for the veil, I just 
 asked one of the maids what company had arrived, but "- 
 here Jones looked very suspicious, and shook her head 
 ominously " would you think it, ma'am, not a soul of 
 them knew ! But, ma'am, there was the doctor and his 
 
PRRCA UTION. 27 
 
 son, praying and reading with the old gentleman the whole 
 time and " 
 
 "And what, Jones?" 
 
 " Why, ma'am, I expect he has been a great sinner, or 
 he wouldn't want so much praying just as he is about to 
 die." 
 
 " Die ! " cried all three at once ; " will he die ? " 
 
 "O yes," continued Jones, "they all agree he must die ; 
 but this praying so much is just like the criminals. I'm 
 sure no honest person needs so much praying, ma'am." 
 
 "No, indeed," said the mother. "No, indeed," responded 
 the daughters, as they retired to their several rooms for 
 the night. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THERE is something in the season of spring which pe- 
 culiarly excites the feelings of devotion. The dreariness 
 of winter has passed, and with it, the deadened affections 
 of our nature. New life, new vigor, arises within us, as 
 we walk abroad and feel the genial gales of April breathe 
 upon us ; and our hopes, our wishes, awaken with the re- 
 vival of the vegetable world. It is then that the heart, 
 which has been impressed with the goodness of the Crea- 
 tor, feels that goodness brought, as it were, into very con- 
 tact with the senses. The eye loves to wander over the 
 bountiful provisions nature is throwing forth in every di- 
 rection for our comfort, and fixes its gaze on the clouds, 
 which, having lost the chilling thinness of winter, roll in 
 rich volumes, amid the clear and softened fields of azure so 
 peculiar to the season, leading the mind insensibly to dwell 
 on the things of another and a better world. It was on such 
 a day that the inhabitants of B thronged toward the 
 village church, for the double purpose of pouring out their 
 thanksgivings and of hearing the first efforts of their rec- 
 tor's son in the duties of his sacred calling. 
 
 Among the crowd whom curiosity, or a better feeling, 
 had drawn forth were to be seen the flaring equipage of 
 the Jarvises, and the handsome carriages of Sir Edward 
 Moseley and his sister. All the members of the latter 
 family felt a lively anxiety for the success of the young 
 divine. But knowing, as they well did, the strength of 
 his native talents, the excellence of his education, and the 
 fervor of his piety, it was an anxiety that partook more 
 
28 PRECA UTIOtf. 
 
 of hope than of fear. There was one heart, however, 
 among them that palpitated with an emotion that hardly 
 admitted of control, as they approached the sacred edifice, 
 for it had identified itself completely with the welfare of 
 the rector's son. There never was a softer, truer heart than 
 that which now almost audibly beat within the bosom of 
 Clara Moseley ; and she had given it to the young divine 
 with all its purity and truth. 
 
 The entrance of a congregation into the sanctuary will 
 at all times furnish, to an attentive observer, food for much 
 useful speculation, if it be chastened with a proper charity 
 for the weaknesses of others ; and most people are ignorant 
 of the insight they are giving into their characters and 
 dispositions, by such an apparently trivial circumstance 
 as their weekly approach to the tablernacles of the Lord. 
 Christianity, while it chastens and amends the heart, leaves 
 the natural powers unaltered ; and it cannot be doubted that 
 its operation is, or ought to be, proportionate to the abili- 
 ties and opportunities of the subject of its holy impres- 
 sion " Unto whomsoever much is given, much will be 
 required." While we acknowledge that the thoughts 
 might be better employed in preparing for those humilia- 
 tions of the spirit and thanksgivings of the heart which 
 are required of all, and are so necessary to all, we must be 
 indulged in a hasty view of some of the personages of our 
 history, as they entered the church of B . 
 
 On the countenance of the baronet was the dignity and 
 composure of a mind at peace with itself and mankind. 
 His step was rather more deliberate than common ; his 
 eye rested on the pavement, and on turning into his pew, 
 as he prepared to kneel, in the first humble petition of 
 our beautiful service, he raised it toward the altar with an 
 expression of benevolence and reverence that spoke con- 
 tentment not unmixed with faith. 
 
 In the demeanor of Lady Moseley, all was graceful and 
 decent, while nothing could be properly said to be studied. 
 She followed her husband with a step of equal delibera- 
 tion, though it was slightly varied by a manner which, 
 while it appeared natural to herself, might have been arti* 
 ficial in another ; a cambric handkerchief concealed her 
 face as she sank composedly by the side of Sir Edward, in 
 a style which showed, that while she remembered her 
 Maker, she had not entirely forgotten herself. 
 
 The walk of Mrs. Wilson was quicker than that of her 
 sister Her eye, directed before her, was fixed, as if ia set- 
 
PR EC A UTION'. 39 
 
 tied gaze, on that eternity which she was approaching. 
 The lines of her contemplative face were unaltered, unless 
 there might be traced a deeper shade of humility than was 
 ordinarily seen on her pale, but expressive countenance : 
 her petition was long ; and on rising from her humble 
 posture, the person was indeed to be seen, but the soul 
 appeared absorbed in contemplations beyond the limits of 
 this sphere. 
 
 There was a restlessness and varying of color, in the or- 
 dinarily placid Clara, which prevented a display of her 
 usual manner ; while Jane walked gracefully, and with a 
 tincture of her mother's manner, by her side. She stole 
 one hastily withdrawn glance to the Deanery pew ere she 
 kneeled, and then, on rising, handed her smelling-bottle 
 affectionately to her elder sister. 
 
 Emily glided behind her companions with a face beam- 
 ing with a look of innocence and love. As she sank in the 
 act of supplication, the rich glow of her healthful cheek 
 lost some of its brilliancy ; but, on rising, it beamed with a 
 renewed lustre, that plainly indicated a heart touched with 
 the sanctity of its situation. 
 
 In the composed and sedate manner of Mr. Jarvis, as 
 he steadily pursued his way to the pew of Sir William 
 Harris, you might have been justified in expecting the en- 
 trance of another Sir Edward Moseley in substance, if not 
 in externals. But the deliberate separation of the flaps 
 of his coat, as he comfortably seated himself, when you 
 thought him about to kneel, followed by a pinch of snuff 
 as he threw his eye around the building, led you at once 
 to conjecture, that what at first had been mistaken for rev- 
 erence, was the abstraction of some earthly calculation ; 
 and that his attendance was in compliance with custom, 
 and not a little depended upon the thickness of his cush- 
 ions, and the room he found for the disposition of two 
 rather unwieldy legs. 
 
 The ladies of the family followed, in garments carefully 
 selected for the advantageous display of their persons. As 
 they sailed into their seats, where it would seem the im- 
 providence of Sir William's steward had neglected some 
 important accommodation (some time being spent in prep- 
 aration to be seated), the old lady, whose size and flesh 
 really put kneeling out of the question, bent forward for a 
 moment at an angle of eighty with the horizon, while her 
 daughters prettily bowed their heads, with all proper pre- 
 caution for the safety of their superb millinery. 
 
30 PRRCA UTION. 
 
 At length the rector, accompanied by his son, appeared 
 from the vestry. There was a dignity and solemnity in the 
 manner in which this pious divine entered on the duties 
 of his profession, which disposed the heart to listen with 
 reverence and humility to precepts that were 'accompanied 
 with so impressive an exterior. The stillness of expectation 
 pervaded the church, when the pew opener led the way to 
 the same interesting father and son whose entrance had 
 interrupted the guests the preceding day at the rectory. 
 Every eye was turned on the emaciated parent, bending 
 into the grave, and, as it were, kept from it by the support- 
 ing tenderness of his child. Hastily throwing open the 
 door of her own pew, Mrs. Ives buried her face in her 
 handkerchief ; and her husband had proceeded far in the 
 morning service before she raised it again to the view of 
 the congregation. In the voice of the rector, there was an 
 unusual softness and tremor that his people attributed to 
 the feelings of a father about to witness the first efforts of 
 an only child, but which in reality were owing to another 
 and a deeper cause. 
 
 Prayers were ended, and the younger Ives ascended the 
 pulpit. For a moment he paused ; when, casting an anx- 
 ious glance at the pew of the baronet, he commenced his 
 sermon. He had chosen for his discourse the necessity of 
 placing our dependence on divine grace. After having 
 learnedly, but in the most unaffected manner, displayed 
 the necessity of this dependence, as derived from revelation, 
 he proceeded to paint the hope, the resignation, the felicity 
 of a Christian's death-bed. Warmed by the subject, his 
 animation soon lent a heightened interest to his language ; 
 and at a moment when all around him were entranced by 
 the eloquence of the youthful divine, a sudden and deep- 
 drawn sigh drew every eye to the rector's pew. The 
 younger stranger sat motionless as a statue, holding in his 
 arms the lifeless body of his parent, who had fallen that 
 moment a corpse by his side. All was now confusion ; 
 the almost insensible young man was relieved from his 
 burden ; and, led by the rector, they left the church. The 
 congregation dispersed in silence, or assembled in little 
 groups to converse on the awful event they had witnessed. 
 None knew the deceased ; he was the rector's friend, and 
 to his residence the body was removed. The young man 
 was evidently his child ; but here all information ended. 
 They had arrived in a private chaise, but with post-horses, 
 and without attendants. Their arrival at the parsonage 
 
PRECA UTIOM 31 
 
 was detailed by the Jarvis ladies with, a few exaggerations 
 that gave additional interest to the whole event, and which, 
 by creating an impression with some whom gentler feel- 
 ings would not have restrained, that there was something 
 of mystery about them, prevented 'many distressing ques- 
 tions to the Ives's, that the baronet's family forbore put- 
 ting, on the score of delicacy. The body left B at the 
 
 close of the week, accompanied by Francis Ives and the 
 unweariedly attentive and interesting son. The doctor 
 and his wife went into deep mourning, and Clara received 
 a short note from her lover, on the morning of their de- 
 parture, acquainting her with his intended absence for a 
 month, but throwing no light upon the affair. The Lon- 
 don papers, however, contained the following obituary 
 notice, and which, as it could refer to no other person, as 
 a matter of course, was supposed to allude to the rector's 
 friend. 
 
 " Died, suddenly, at B , on the 2oth instant, George 
 
 Denbigh, Esq., aged 63." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DURING the week of mourning, the intercourse between 
 Moseley Hall and the rectory was confined to messages and 
 notes of inquiry after each other's welfare ; but the visit 
 of the Moseleys to the Deanery had been returned ; and 
 the day after the appearance of the obituary paragraph, 
 the family of the latter dined by invitation at the Hall. 
 Colonel Egerton had recovered the use of his leg, and 
 was included in the party. Between this gentleman and 
 Mr. Benfield there appeared, from the first moment of 
 their introduction, a repugnance which was rather in- 
 creased by time, and which the old gentleman manifested 
 by a demeanor loaded with the overstrained ceremony of 
 the day, and which, in the colonel, only showed itself by 
 avoiding, when possible, all intercourse with^he object of 
 his aversion. Both Sir Edward and Lady Moseley, on the 
 contrary, were not slow in manifesting their favorable im- 
 pressions in behalf of the gentleman. The latter, in par- 
 ticular, having ascertained to her satisfaction that he was 
 the undoubted heir to the title, and most probably to the 
 estates of his uncle, Sir Edgar Egerton, felt herself strongly 
 disposed to encourage an acquaintance she found so agree- 
 
3 2 PRECA UT10N-. 
 
 able, and to which she could see no reasonable objection, 
 Captain Jarvis, who was extremely offensive to her, from 
 his vulgar familiarity, she barely tolerated, from the neces- 
 sity of being civil, and keeping up sociability in the neigh- 
 borhood. It is true, she could not help being surprised 
 that a gentleman, as polished as the colonel, could find 
 any pleasure in an associate like his friend, or even in the 
 hardly more softened females of his family ; then again, 
 the flattering suggestion would present itself, that possi- 
 bly he might have seen Emily at Bath, or Jane elsewhere, 
 and availed himself of the acquaintance of young Jarvis 
 to get into their neighborhood. Lady Moseley had never 
 been vain, or much interested about the disposal of her 
 own person, previously to her attachment to her husband ; 
 but her daughters called forth not a little of her natural 
 pride we had almost said of her selfishness. 
 
 The attentions of the colonel were of the most delicate 
 and insinuating kind ; and Mrs. Wilson several times 
 turned away in displeasure at herself, for listening with 
 too much satisfaction to nothings, uttered in an agreeable 
 manner, or, what was worse, false sentiments supported 
 with the gloss of language and a fascinating deportment. 
 The anxiety of this lady on behalf of Emily kept her ever 
 on the alert, when chance, or any chain of circumstances, 
 threw her in the way of forming new connections of any 
 kind ; and of late, as her charge approached the period of 
 life her sex were apt to make that choice from which there 
 is no retreat, her solicitude to examine the characters of 
 the men who approached her was really painful. As to 
 Lady Moseley, her wishes disposed her to be easily satis- 
 fied, and her mind naturally shrank from an investigation 
 to which she felt herself unequal ; while Mrs. Wilson was 
 governed by the convictions of a sound discretion, ma- 
 tured by long and deep reasoning, all acting on a temper 
 at all times ardent, and a watchfulness calculated to en- 
 dure to the end. 
 
 " Pray, my lady," said Mrs. Jarvis, with a look of some- 
 thing like importance, "have you made any discovery 
 about this Mr. Denbigh, who died in the church lately?" 
 
 "I did not know, ma'am," replied Lady Moseley, "there 
 was any discovery to be made." 
 
 "You know, Lady Moseley," said Colonel Egerton, 
 " that in town, all the little 'accompaniments of such a 
 melancholy death would have found their way into the 
 prints ; and I suppose this is what Mrs. Jarvis alludes to.'' 
 
PRECA UTION. 33 
 
 ''Oh, yes," cried Mrs. Jarvis, "the colonel is right." 
 But the colonel was always right with that lady. 
 
 Lady Moseley bowed her head with dignity, and the 
 colonel had too much tact to pursue the conversation ; but 
 the captain, whom nothing had ever yet abashed, ex- 
 claimed 
 
 " These Denbighs could not be people of much impor- 
 tance I have never heard the name before." 
 
 " It is the family name of the Duke of Derwent, I be- 
 lieve," dryly remarked Sir Edward. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure neither the old man nor his son looked 
 much like a duke, or so much as an officer either," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Jarvis, who thought the latter rank the dig- 
 nity in degree next below nobility. 
 
 " There sat, in the Parliament of this realm, when I was 
 a member, a General Denbigh," said Mr. Benfield, with 
 his usual deliberation ; " he was always on the same side 
 with Lord Gosford and myself. He and his friend, Sir 
 Peter Howell, who was the admiral that took the French 
 squadron, in the glorious administration of Billy Pitt, and 
 afterward took an island with this same General Den- 
 bigh : ay, the old admiral was a hearty blade a good deal 
 such a looking man as my Hector would make." Hector 
 was Mr. Benfield's bull-dog. 
 
 " Mercy ! " whispered John to Clara, " that's your grand- 
 father that is to be, Uncle Benfield is speaking of." 
 
 Clara smiled, as she ventured to say, "Sir Peter was 
 Mrs. Ives's father, sir." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said the old gentleman, with a look of sur- 
 prise ; "I never knew that before. I cannot say they re- 
 semble each other much." 
 
 " Pray, uncle, does Frank look much like the family ? " 
 asked John with an air of unconquerable gravity. 
 
 " But, sir," interrupted Emily, " were General Denbigh 
 and Admiral Howell related ?" 
 
 "Not that I ever knew, Emmy dear. Sir Frederick 
 Denbigh did not look much like the admiral ; he rather 
 resembled " (gathering himself up into an air of formality, 
 and bowing stiffly to Colonel Egerton) "this gentleman, 
 here." 
 
 " I have not the honor of the connection," observed the 
 colonel, withdrawing behind the chair of Jane. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson changed the conversation to one more gen- 
 eral ; but the little that had fallen from Mr. Benfield gave 
 reason for believing ? connection, in some way of which 
 
34 PRECA UTION. 
 
 they were ignorant, existed between the descendants of 
 the two veterans, and which explained the interest they 
 felt in each other. 
 
 During dinner, Colonel Egerton placed himself next to 
 Emily, and Miss Jarvis took the chair on the other side. 
 He spoke of the gay world, of watering-places, novels, 
 plays ; and, still finding his companion reserved, and either 
 unwilling or unable to talk freely, he tried his favorite 
 sentiment. He had read poetry, and a remark of his lighted 
 up a spark of intelligence in the beautiful face of his com- 
 panion that for a moment deceived him ; but as he went 
 on to point out his favorite beauties, it gave place to a 
 settled composure, which at last led him to imagine the 
 casket contained no gem equal to the promise of its bril- 
 liant exterior. After resting from one of his most labored 
 displays of feeling and imagery, he accidentally caught the 
 eyes of Jane fastened on him with an expression of no 
 dubious import, and the soldier changed his battery. In 
 Jane he found a more willing auditor : poetry was the food 
 she lived on, and in works of the imagination she found 
 her greatest delight. An animated discussion of the merits 
 of their favorite authors now took place to renew which, 
 the colonel early left the dining-room, for the society of 
 the ladies ; John, who disliked drinking excessively, being 
 happy of an excuse to attend him. 
 
 The younger ladies had clustered together round a win- 
 dow ; and even Emily in her heart rejoiced that the gen- 
 tlemen had come to relieve herself and sisters from the 
 arduous task of entertaining women who appeared not 
 to possess a single taste or opinion in common with them- 
 selves. ^ 
 
 " You were saying, Miss Moseley," observed the colonel, 
 in his most agreeable manner, as he approached them, 
 " you thought Campbell the most musical poet we have. 
 I hope you will unite with me in excepting Moore." 
 
 Jane colored, as with some awkwardness she replied, 
 "Moore was certainly poetical." 
 
 " Has Moore written much ? " innocently asked Emily. 
 
 "Not half as much as he ought," cried Miss Jarvis 
 "Oh ! I could live on his beautiful lines." 
 
 Jane turned away in disgust ; and that evening, while 
 alone with Clara, she took a volume of Moore's songs, and 
 very coolly consigned them to the flames. Her sister nat- 
 urally asked an explanation of so extraordinary a pro- 
 cedure. 
 
PRECAUTION. 
 
 35 
 
 "Oh!" cried Jane, "I can't abide the book, since that 
 vulgar Miss Jarvis speaks of it with so much interest. I 
 really believe Aunt Wilson is right in not suffering Emily 
 to read such things." And Jane, who had often devoured 
 the treacherous lines with ardor, shrank with fastidious 
 delicacy from the indulgence of a perverted taste, when it 
 became exposed, coupled with the vulgarity of unblush- 
 ing audacity. 
 
 Colonel Egerton immediately changed the subject to 
 one less objectionable, and spoke of a campaign he had 
 made in Spain. He possessed the happy faculty of giving 
 an interest to all he advanced, whether true or not ; and, 
 as he never contradicted, or even opposed unless to yield 
 gracefully, when a lady was his opponent, his conversation 
 insensibly attracted, by putting the sex in good humor 
 with themselves. Such a man, aided by the powerful 
 assistants of person and manners, and no inconsiderable 
 colloquial talents, Mrs. Wilson knew to be extremely dan- 
 
 ferous as a companion to a youthful female heart ; and as 
 is visit was to extend to a couple of months, she resolved 
 to reconnoitre the state of her pupil's opinion forthwith 
 in reference to his merits. She had taken too much 
 pains in forming the mind of Emily to apprehend she 
 would fall a victim to the eye ; but she also knew that per- 
 sonal grace sweetened a benevolent expression, and added 
 force even to the oracles of wisdom. She labored a lit- 
 tle herself under the disadvantage of what John called a 
 didactic manner, and which, although she had not the abil- 
 ity, or rather taste, to amend, she had yet the sense to dis- 
 cern. It was the great error of Mrs. Wilson to attempt 
 to convince, where she might have influenced ; but her 
 ardor of temperament, and great love of truth, kept her 
 as it were tilting with the vices of mankind, and con- 
 sequently sometimes in unprofitable combat. With her 
 charge, however, this could never be said to be the case. 
 Emily knew her heart, felt her love, and revered her prin- 
 ciples too deeply, to throw away an admonition, or disre- 
 gard a precept, that fell from lips she knew never spoke 
 idly or without consideration. 
 
 John had felt tempted to push the conversation with 
 Miss Jarvis, and he was about to utter something rapt- 
 urous respecting the melodious poison of Little's poems, 
 as the blue eye of Emily rested on him in the fulness of 
 sisterly affection, and, checking his love of the ridiculous, 
 he quietly yielded to his respect for the innocence of his 
 
36 PRECA UTION'. 
 
 sisters ; and, as if eager to draw the attention of all from 
 the hateful subject, he put question after question to 
 Egerton concerning the Spaniards and their customs. 
 
 " Did you ever meet Lord Pendennyss in Spain, Colonel 
 Egerton ?" inquired Mrs. Wilson, with interest. 
 
 " Never, madam," he replied. " I have much reason to 
 regret that our service lay in different parts of the coun- 
 try ; his lordship was much with the duke, and I made the 
 campaign under Marshal Beresford." 
 
 Emily left the group at the window, and, taking a seat 
 on the sofa by the side of her aunt, insensibly led her to 
 forget the gloomy thoughts which had begun to steal 
 over her ; which the colonel, approaching where they 
 sat, continued, by asking 
 
 " Are you acquainted with the earl, madam ? " 
 
 "Not in person, but by character," said Mrs. Wilson, in 
 a melancholy manner. 
 
 " His character as a soldier was very high. He had 
 no superior of his years in Spain, I am told." 
 
 No reply was made to this remark, and Emily endeav- 
 ored anxiously to draw the mind of her aunt to reflections 
 of a more agreeable nature. The colonel, whose vigi- 
 lance to please was ever on the alert, kindly aided her, 
 and they soon succeeded. 
 
 The merchant withdrew, with his family and guest, in 
 proper season ; and Mrs. Wilson, heedful of her duty, 
 took the opportunity of a quarter of an hour's privacy in 
 her own dressing-room, in the evening, to touch gently 
 on the subject of the gentlemen they had seen that 
 day. 
 
 " How are you pleased, Emily, with your new acquaint- 
 ances ? " familiarly commenced Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " Oh ! aunt, don't ask me. As John says, they are new, 
 indeed." 
 
 " I am not sorry," continued the aunt, "to have you ob- 
 serve more closely than you have been used to the man- 
 ners of such women as the Jarvises. They are too abrupt 
 and unpleasant to create a dread of any imitation ; but 
 the gentlemen are heroes in very different styles." 
 
 " Different from each other, indeed." 
 
 " To which do you give the preference, my dear ? " 
 
 " Preference, aunt ! " said her niece, with a look of as- 
 tonishment ; " preference is a strong word for either ; but 
 I rather think the captain the most eligible companion of 
 the two. I do believe you see the worst of him ; and al- 
 
PRECA UTION; 37 
 
 though I acknowledge it to be bad enough, he might 
 amend ; but the colonel " 
 
 " Go on," said Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " Why, everything about the colonel seems so seated, so 
 ingrafted in his nature, so so very self-satisfied, that I am 
 afraid it would be a difficult task to take the first step in 
 amendment to convince him of its necessity." 
 
 " And is it then so necessary ?" 
 
 Emily looked up from arranging some laces with an ex- 
 pression of surprise, as she replied : 
 
 " Did you not hear him talk of those poems, and attempt 
 to point out the beauties of several works ? I thought 
 everything he uttered was referred to taste, and that not a 
 very natural one ; at least," she added with a laugh, " it 
 differed greatly from mine. He seemed to forget alto- 
 gether there was such a thing as principle : and then he 
 spoke of some woman to Jane, who had left her father for 
 her lover, with so much admiration of her feelings, to take 
 up with poverty and love, as he called it, in place of con- 
 demning her want of filial piety I am sure, aunt, if you 
 had heard that, you would not admire him so much." 
 
 " I do not admire him at all, child ; I only want to know 
 your sentiments, and I am happy to find them so correct. 
 It is as you think : Colonel Egerton appears to refer 
 nothing to principle ; even the more generous feelings, I 
 am afraid, are corrupted in him from too low intercourse 
 with the surface of society. There is by far too much 
 pliability about him for principle of any kind, unless in 
 deed it be a principle to please, no matter how. No one 
 who has deeply-seated opinions of right and wrong will 
 ever abandon them, even in the courtesies of polite inter- 
 course ; they may be silent, but never acquiescent. In 
 short, my dear, the dread of offending our Maker ought to 
 be so superior to that of offending our fellow-creatures, 
 that we should endeavor, I believe, to be even more un- 
 bending to the follies of the world than we are." 
 
 "And yet the colonel is what they call a good com- 
 panion I mean a pleasant one." 
 
 " In the ordinary meaning of the words, he is certainly, 
 my dear ; yet you soon tire of sentiments which will not 
 stand the test of examination, and of a manner you cannot 
 but see is artificial he may do very well for a companion, 
 but very ill for a friend. In short, Colonel Egerton has 
 neither been satisfied to yield to his natural impressions, 
 nor to obtain new ones from a proper source ; he has cop- 
 
38 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 led from bad models, and his work must necessarily be 
 imperfect." 
 
 Kissing her niece, Mrs. Wilson then retired into her own 
 room with the happy assurance that she had not labored in 
 vain ; but that, with divine aid, she had implanted a guide 
 in the bosom of her charge that could not fail, with ordi- 
 nary care, to lead her straight through the devious path of 
 female duties. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A MONTH now passed in the ordinary occupations and 
 amusements of a country life, during which both Lady 
 Moseley and Jane manifested a desire to keep up the 
 Deanery acquaintance that surprised Emily a little, who 
 had ever seen her mother shrink from communications 
 with those whose breeding subjected her o\vn delicacy to 
 the little shocks she could but ill conceal. In Jane this 
 desire was still more inexplicable ; for Jane had, in a de- 
 cided way very common to her, avowed her disgust of the 
 manners of their new associates at the commencement of 
 the acquaintance ; and yet Jane would now even quit her 
 own society for that of Miss Jarvis, especially if Colonel 
 Egerton happened to be of the party. The innocence of 
 Emily prevented her scanning the motives for the conduct 
 of her sister, and she set seriously about an examination 
 into her own deportment to find the latent cause, in 
 order, wherever an opportunity should offer, to evince her 
 regret, had it been her misfortune to have erred by the 
 tenderness of her own manner. 
 
 For a short time the colonel seemed at a loss where to 
 make his choice ; but a few days determined him, and Jane 
 was evidently the favorite. It is true, that in the presence 
 of the Jarvis ladies he was more guarded and general in 
 his attentions ; but as John, from a motive of charity, had 
 taken the direction of the captain's sports into his own 
 hands, and as they were in the frequent habit of meeting 
 at the Hall preparatory to their morning excursions, the 
 colonel suddenly became a sportsman. The ladies would 
 often accompany them in their morning excursions ; and 
 as John would certainly be a baronet, and the colonel 
 might not if his uncle married, he had the comfort of 
 being sometimes ridden, as well as of riding. 
 
PRECAUTION. 39 
 
 One morning, having all prepared for an excursion on 
 horseback, as they stood at the door ready to mount, 
 Francis Ives drove up in his father's gig, and for a mo- 
 ment arrested the party. Francis was a favorite with the 
 whole Moseley family, and their greetings were warm and 
 sincere. He found they meant to take the rectory in their 
 ride, and insisted that they should proceed. " Clara would 
 take a seat with him." As he spoke, the cast of his 
 countenance brought the color into the cheeks of his in- 
 tended ; she suffered herself, however, to be handed into 
 the vacant seat in the gig, and they moved on. John, who 
 was at the bottom good-natured, and loved both Francis 
 and Clara very sincerely, soon set Captain Jarvis and his 
 sister what he called " scrub racing," and necessity, in 
 some measure, compelled the rest of the equestrians to 
 hard riding, in order to keep up with the sports. 
 
 " That will do, that will do," cried John, casting his eye 
 back and perceiving they had lost sight of the gig, and 
 nearly so of Colonel Egerton and Jane ; " why, you carry 
 it off like a jockey, captain better than any amateur I 
 have ever seen, unless indeed it be your sister." 
 
 The lady, encouraged by his commendations, whipped 
 on, followed by her brother and sister at half speed. 
 
 " There, Emily," said John, quietly dropping by her side, 
 " I see no reason you and I should break our necks to show 
 the blood of our horses. Now do you know I think we are 
 going to have a wedding in the family soon ?" 
 
 Emily looked at him in amazement. 
 
 " Frank has got a living ; I saw it the moment he drove 
 up. He came in like somebody. Yes, I dare say he has 
 calculated the tithes already a dozen times." 
 
 John was right. The Earl of Bolton had, unsolicited, 
 given him the desired living of his own parish ; and Fran- 
 cis was at the moment pressing the blushing Clara to fix 
 the day that was to put a period to his long probation. 
 Clara, who had not a particle of coquetry about her, prom- 
 ised to be his as soon as he was inducted, an event that 
 was to take place the following week ; and then followed 
 those delightful little arrangements and plans with which 
 youthful hope is so fond of filling up the void of life. 
 
 " Doctor," said John, as he came out of the rectory to 
 assist Clara from the gig, " the parson here is a careful 
 driver ; see, he has not turned a hair." 
 
 He kissed the burning cheek of his sister as she touched 
 the ground, and whispered significantly 
 
40 PR EC A UT1ON. 
 
 " You need tell me nothing, my dear I know all I con- 
 sent" 
 
 Mrs. Ives folded her future daughter to her bosom ; and 
 the benevolent smile of the good rector, together with the 
 kind and affectionate manner of her sisters, assured Clara 
 the approaching nuptials were anticipated, as a matter of 
 course. Colonel Egerton offered his compliments to 
 Francis on his preferment to the living, with the polish of 
 high breeding, and not without an appearance of interest ; 
 and Emily thought him, for the first time, as handsome as 
 he was generally reputed to be. The ladies undertook to 
 say something civil in their turn ; and John put the cap- 
 tain, by a hint, on the same track. 
 
 "You are quite lucky, sir," said the captain, " in getting 
 so good a living with so little trouble ; I wish you joy of 
 it with all my heart ; Mr. Moseley tells me it is a capital 
 thing now for a gentleman of your profession. For my 
 part, I prefer a scarlet coat to a black one ; but there must 
 be parsons, you know, or how should we get married or 
 say grace ?" 
 
 Francis thanked him for his good wishes, and Egerton 
 paid a handsome compliment to the liberality of the earl : 
 " he doubted not he found that gratification which always 
 attends a disinterested act ; " and Jane applauded the 
 sentiment with a smile. 
 
 The baronet, when he was made acquainted with the 
 situation of affairs, promised Francis that no unnecessary 
 delay should intervene, and the marriage was happily ar- 
 ranged for the following week. Lady Moseley, when she 
 retired to the drawing-room after dinner, commenced a 
 recital of the ceremony, and the company to be invited on 
 the occasion. Etiquette and the decencies of life were not 
 only the forte but the fault of this lady ; and she had gone 
 on to the enumeration of about the fortieth personage in the 
 ceremonials, before Clara found courage to say that " Mr. 
 Ives and myself both wish to be married at the altar, and 
 to proceed to Bolton Rectory immediately after the cere- 
 mony." To this her mother warmly objected ; and argu- 
 ment and respectful remonstrance had followed each other 
 for some time, before Clara submitted in silence, with diffi- 
 culty restraining her tears. This appeal to the better 
 feelings of the mother triumphed ; and the love of parade 
 yielded to love of her offspring. Clara, with a lightened 
 heart, kissed and thanked her, and accompanied by Emily 
 left the room. Jane had risen to follow them, but, catch- 
 
PRECA UT1ON. 41 
 
 a glimpse of the tilbury of Colonel Egerton, she reseated 
 herself. 
 
 He had merely driven over at the earnest entreaties of 
 the ladies to beg Miss Jane would accept a seat back with 
 him ; " they had some little project on foot, and could not 
 proceed without her assistance." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson looked gravely at her sister, as she smiled 
 acquiescence to his wishes ; and the daughter, who but the 
 minute before had forgotten there was any other person 
 in the world but Clara, flew for her hat and shawl, in order, 
 as she said to herself, that the politeness of Colonel Eger- 
 ton, might not keep him waiting. Lady Moseley resumed 
 her seat by the side of her sister with an .air of great com- 
 placency, as she returned from the window, after having 
 seen her daughter off. For some time each was occupied 
 quietly with her needle, when Mrs. Wilson suddenly broke 
 the silence by saying 
 
 " Who is Colonel Egerton ? " 
 
 Lady Moseley looked up for a moment in amazement ; 
 but, recollecting herself, answered 
 
 " The nephew and heir of Sir Edgar Egerton, sister." 
 
 This was spoken in a rather positive way, as if it were 
 unanswerable ; yet, as there was nothing harsh in the re- 
 ply, Mrs. Wilson continued 
 
 " Do you not think him attentive to Jane ? " 
 
 Pleasure sparkled in the still brilliant eyes of Lady Mose- 
 ley, as she exclaimed 
 
 "Do you think so ?" 
 
 "I do ; and you will pardon me if I say improperly so. 
 I think you were wrong in suffering Jane to go with him 
 this afternoon." 
 
 " Why improperly, Charlotte ? If Colonel Egerton is 
 polite enough to show Jane such attentions, should I not 
 be wrong in rudely rejecting them ?" 
 
 "The rudeness of refusing a request that is improper to 
 grant is a very venial offence. I confess I think it im- 
 proper to allow any attentions to be forced on us that may 
 subject us to disagreeable consequences. But the atten- 
 tions of Colonel Egerton are becoming marked, Anne." 
 
 " Do you for a moment doubt their being honorable, 
 or that he dares to trifle with a daughter of Sir Edward 
 Moseley ?" 
 
 " I should hope not, certainly, although it may be we?' 
 to guard even against such a misfortune. But I am of 
 opinion it is quite as important to know whether he is 
 
42 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 worthy to be her husband as it is to know that he is in K 
 situation to become so." 
 
 "On what points, Charlotte, would you wish to be more 
 assured ? You know his birth, and probable fortune ; you 
 see his manners and disposition. But these latter are things 
 for Jane to decide on ; she is to live with him, and it is 
 proper she should be suited in these respects." 
 
 " I do not deny his fortune or his disposition, but I 
 complain that we give him credit for the last, and for still 
 more important requisites, without evidence of his possess- 
 ing any of them. His principles, his habits, his very char- 
 acter, what do we know of them ? I say we, for you 
 know, Anne, your children are as dear to me, as my own 
 would have been." 
 
 " I believe you sincerely, but the things you mention are 
 points for Jane to decide on. If she be pleased, I have no 
 right to complain. I am determined never to control the 
 affections of my children." 
 
 " Had you said, never to force the affections of your chil- 
 dren, you would have said enough, Anne ; but to control, 
 or rather to guide the affections of a child, especially a 
 daughter, is, in some cases, a duty as imperative as it 
 would be to avert any other impending calamity. Surely 
 the proper time to do this is before the affections of the 
 child are likely to endanger her peace of mind." 
 
 " I have seldom seen much good result from the inter- 
 ference of parents," said Lady Moseley, a little pertina- 
 ciously. 
 
 "True ; for, to be of use, unless in extraordinary cases, 
 it should not be seen. You will pardon me, Anne, but I 
 have often thought parents are too frequently in extremes 
 determined to make the election for their children, or 
 leaving them entirely to their own vanity and inexperience, 
 to govern, not only their own lives, but, I may say, to leave 
 an impression on future generations. And, after all, what 
 is this love ? In nineteen cases in twenty of what we call 
 affairs of the heart, it would be better to term them affairs 
 of the imagination" 
 
 " And is there not a great deal of imagination in all love ? " 
 inquired Lady Moseley, smiling. 
 
 " Undoubtedly, there is some ; but there is one impor- 
 tant difference : in affairs of the imagination, the admire^ 
 object is gifted with all those qualities we esteem, as a mat- 
 ter of course ; and there is a certain set of females who 
 are ever readv to bestow this admiration on any applicant 
 
PRECA UTIOtf. 43 
 
 for their favors who may not be strikingly objectionable. 
 The necessity of being courted makes our sex rather too 
 much disposed to admire improper suitors." 
 
 " But how do you distinguish affairs of the heart, Char- 
 lotte, from those of the fancy ? " 
 
 " When the heart takes the lead, it is not difficult to de- 
 tect it. Such sentiments generally follow long intercourse, 
 and opportunities of judging the real character. They are 
 the only attachments that are likely to stand the test of 
 worldly trials." 
 
 " Suppose Emily to be the object of Colonel Egerton's 
 pursuit, then, sister, in what manner would you proceed 
 to destroy the influence I acknowledge he is gaining over 
 Jane ? " 
 
 " I cannot suppose such a case," said Mrs. Wilson, 
 gravely ; and then, observing that her sister looked as if 
 she required an explanation, she continued 
 
 " My attention has been directed to the forming of such 
 principles, and such a taste, if I may use the expression, 
 under those principles, that I feel no apprehension Emily 
 will ever allow her affections to be ensnared by a man of 
 the opinions and views of Colonel Egerton. I am im- 
 pressed with a twofold duty in watching the feelings of 
 my charge. She has so much singleness of heart, such 
 real strength of native feeling, that, should an improper 
 man gain possession of her affections, the struggle between 
 her duty and her love would be weighty indeed ; and 
 should it proceed so far as to make it her duty to love an 
 unworthy object, I am sure she would sink under it. Emily 
 would die in the same circumstances under which Jane 
 would only awake from a dream, and be wretched." 
 
 " I thought you entertained a better opinion of Jane, 
 sister," said Lady Moseley, reproachfully. 
 
 " I think her admirably calculated to make an invaluable 
 wife and mother ; but she is so much under the influence 
 of her fancy, that she seldom gives her heart an oppor- 
 tunity of displaying its excellences ; and again, she dwells 
 so much upon imaginary perfections, that adulation has 
 become necessary to her. The man who flatters her deli- 
 cately, will be sure to win her esteem ; and every woman 
 might love the being possessed of the qualities she will not 
 fail to endow him with." 
 
 " I do not know that I rightly understand how you would 
 avert all these sad consequences of improvident affections," 
 said Lady Moseley. 
 
44 PRECA UT10N. 
 
 " Prevention is better than cure. I would first implant 
 such opinions as would lessen the danger of intercourse; 
 and as for particular attentions from improper objects, it 
 should be my care to prevent them, by prohibiting, or 
 rather impeding, the intimacy which might give rise to 
 them. And least of all," said Mrs. Wilson, with a friendly 
 smile, as she rose to leave the room, "would I suffer a fear 
 of being impolite to endanger the happiness of a young 
 woman intrusted to my care." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FRANCIS, who labored with the ardor of a lover, soon 
 completed the necessary arrangements and alterations in 
 his new parsonage. The living was a good one ; and, as 
 the rector was enabled to make a very considerable annual 
 allowance from the private fortune his wife had brought 
 him, and as Sir Edward had twenty thousand pounds in the 
 funds for each of his daughters, one portion of which was 
 immediately settled on Clara, the youthful couple had not 
 only a sufficient but an abundant provision for their station 
 in life ; and they entered on their matrimonial duties with 
 as good a prospect of happiness as the ills of this world can 
 give to health, affection, and competency. Their union 
 had been deferred by Doctor Ives until his son was estab- 
 lished, with a view to keep him under his own direction 
 during the critical period of his first impressions in the 
 priesthood ; and as no objection now remained, or rather, 
 the only one he ever felt was removed by the proximity of 
 Bolton to his own parish, he now joyfully united the lovers 
 at the altar of the village church, in the presence of his 
 wife and Clara's immediate relatives. On leaving the 
 church, Francis handed his bride into his own carriage, 
 which conveyed them to their new residence, amid the 
 good wishes of his parishioners and the prayers of their 
 relatives and friends. Doctor and Mrs. Ives retired to the 
 rectory, to the sober enjoyment of the felicity of their only 
 child ; while the baronet and his lady felt a gloom that be- 
 lied all the wishes of the latter for the establishment of her 
 daughters. Jane and Emily acted as bridesmaids to their 
 sister ; and as both the former and her mother had insisted 
 there should be two groomsmen as a counterpoise. John 
 was empowered with a carte-blanche to make a provision ao 
 
PRECA UTION. 45 
 
 cordingly. At first, he intimated his intention of calling 
 on Mr. Benfield ; but he finally settled down, to the no 
 small mortification of the before-mentioned ladies, into 
 writing a note to his kinsman, Lord Chatterton, whose 
 residence was then in London, and who in reply, after ex- 
 pressing his sincere regret that an accident would prevent 
 his having the pleasure of attending, stated the intention 
 of his mother and two sisters to pay them an early visit of 
 congratulation, as soon as his own health would allow of 
 his travelling. This answer arrived only the day preced- 
 ing that fixed for the wedding, and at the very moment 
 they were expecting his lordship in proper person. 
 
 ''There," cried Jane, in triumph, "I told you it was 
 silly to send so far on so sudden an occasion ; now, after 
 all, what is to be done ? it will be so awkward when 
 Clara's friends call to see her oh ! John, John, you are a 
 Marplot." 
 
 " Jenny, Jenny, you are a make-plot," said John, coolly 
 taking up his hat to leave the room. 
 
 " Which way, my son ? " said the baronet, who met him 
 at the door. 
 
 " To the Deanery, sir, to try to get Captain Jarvis to act 
 as bridesmaid I beg his pardon, groomsman, to-morrow 
 Chatterton has been thrown from his horse and can't 
 come." 
 
 " John ! " 
 
 "Jenny!" 
 
 "I am sure," said Jane, indignation glowing in her 
 pretty face, " that if Captain Jarvis is to be an attendant, 
 Clara must excuse my acting. I do not choose to be asso- 
 ciated with Captain Jarvis." 
 
 "John," said his mother, with dignity, "your trifling is 
 unseasonable ; certainly Colonel Egerton is a more fitting 
 person on every account, and I desire, under present cir- 
 cumstances, that you ask the colonel." 
 
 "Your ladyship's wishes are orders to me," said John, 
 gayly kissing his hand as he left the room. 
 
 The colonel was but too happy in having it in his power 
 to be of service in any manner to a gentleman he respected 
 as much as Mr. Francis Ives. He accepted the duty, and 
 was the only person present at the ceremony who did not 
 stand within the bonds of consanguinity to the parties. 
 He was invited by the baronet to dine at the Hall, as a 
 matter of course, and notwithstanding the repeated in- 
 junctions of Mrs. Jarvis and her daughters, to return im 
 
46 PRECA UTION. 
 
 mediately with an account of the dress of the bride, and 
 with other important items of a similar nature, the invita- 
 tion was accepted. On reaching the Hall, Emily retired 
 immediately to her own room, and at her appearance when 
 the dinner-bell rang, the paleness of her cheeks and the 
 redness of her eyes afforded sufficient proof that the trans- 
 lation of a companion from her own to another family was 
 an event, however happy in itself, not unmingled with 
 grief. The day, however, passed off tolerably well foi 
 people who are expected to be premeditatedly happy, and 
 when, in their hearts, they are really more disposed to weep 
 than to laugh. Jane and the colonel had more of the con- 
 versation to themselves during dinner : even the joyous 
 and thoughtless John wearing his gayety in a less graceful 
 manner than usual. He was actually detected by his 
 aunt in looking with moistened eyes at the vacant chair a 
 servant had, from habit, placed at the table, in a spot 
 where Clara had been accustomed to sit. 
 
 "This beef is not done, Saunders," said the baronet to 
 his butler, " or my appetite is not as good as usual to-day. 
 Colonel Egerton, will you allow me the pleasure of a glass 
 of sherry ? " 
 
 The wine was drunk, and the game succeeded the beef ; 
 but still Sir Edward could not eat. 
 
 " How glad Clara will be to see us all the day after to- 
 morrow ! " said Mrs. Wilson ; "your new housekeepers de- 
 light in their first efforts in entertaining their friends." 
 
 Lady Moseley smiled through her tears, and, turning to 
 her husband, said, " We will go early, my dear, that we 
 may see the improvements Francis has been making, be- 
 fore we dine." The baronet nodded assent, but his heart 
 was too full to speak ; and apologizing to the colonel for 
 his absence, on the plea of some business with his people, 
 he left the room. 
 
 All this time, the attentions of Colonel Egerton to both 
 mother and daughter were of the most delicate kind. He 
 spoke of Clara as if his office of groomsman entitled him 
 to an interest in her welfare ; with John he was kind and 
 sociable ; and even Mrs. Wilson acknowledged, after he 
 had taken his leave, that he possessed a wonderful fac- 
 ulty of making himself agreeable ; and she began to think 
 that, under all circumstances, he might possibly prove 
 as advantageous a connection as Jane could expect to 
 form. Had any one, however, proposed him as a husband 
 for Emily, affection would have quickened her judgment 
 
PRECA UTION". 47 
 
 in a way that would have urged her to a very different 
 decision. 
 
 Soon after the baronet left the room, a travelling-car- 
 riage, with suitable attendants, drove to the door. The 
 sound of the wheels drew most of the company to a window. 
 "A baron's coronet!" cried Jane, catching a glimpse of 
 the ornaments of the harness. 
 
 "The Chattertons," echoed her brother, running out of 
 the room to meet them. 
 
 The mother of Sir Edward was a daughter of this fam- 
 ily, and the sister of the grandfather of the present lord. 
 The connection had always been kept up with a show of 
 cordiality between Sir Edward and his cousin, although 
 their manner of living and habits were very different. The 
 baron was a courtier and a placeman. His estates, which 
 he could not alienate, produced about ten thousand a year, 
 but the income he could and did spend ; and the high per- 
 quisites of his situation under government, amounting to 
 as much more, were melted away year after year, without 
 making the provision for his daughters that his duty and 
 the observance of his promise to his wife's father required 
 at his hands. He had been dead about two years, and his 
 son found himself saddled with the support of an unjoint- 
 ured mother and unportioned sisters. Money was not the 
 idol the young lord 'worshipped, nor even pleasure. He 
 was affectionate to his surviving parent, and his first act 
 was to settle, during his own life, two thousand a year on 
 her ; while he commenced setting aside as much more for 
 each of his sisters annually. This abridged him greatly 
 in his own expenditures ; yet, as they made but one fam- 
 ily, and the dowager was really a managing woman in more 
 senses than one, they made a very tolerable figure. The 
 son was anxious to follow the example of Sir Edward 
 Moseley, and give up his town-house, for at least a time ; 
 but his mother had exclaimed, with something like horror, 
 at the proposal 
 
 "Chatterton, would you give it up at the morr.^nt it can 
 be of the most use to us ? " and she threw a glance at her 
 daughters that would have discovered her motive to Mrs. 
 Wilson, which was lost on her son ; he, poor soul, think- 
 ing she found it convenient to support the interest 
 he had been making for the place held by his father 
 one of more emolument than service, or even honor. 
 The contending parties were so equally matched, that this 
 situation was kept, as it were, in abeyance, waiting the ar< 
 
48 PRECA UTION-. 
 
 rival of some acquisition of interest to one or other of the 
 claimants. The interest of the peer, however, had begun 
 o lose ground at the period of which we speak, and his 
 careful mother saw new motives for activity in providing 
 for her children. Mrs. Wilson herself could not be more 
 vigilant in examining the candidates for Emily's favors 
 than was the dowager Lady Chatterton in behalf of her 
 daughter. It is true, the task of the former lady was by 
 far the most arduous, for it involved a study of character 
 and development of principle ; while that of the latter 
 would have ended with the footing of a rent-roll, provided 
 it contained five figures. Sir Edward's was well known to 
 contain that number, and two of them were not ciphers. 
 Mr. Benfield was rich, and John Moseley \vas a very agree- 
 able young man. " Weddings are the season of love," 
 thought the prudent dowager, "and Grace is extremely 
 pretty." Chatterton, who never refused his mother any- 
 thing in his power to grant, and who was particularly du- 
 tiful when a visit to Moseley Hall was in question, suf- 
 fered himself to be persuaded his shoulder was well ; and 
 they had left town the day before the wedding, thinking 
 to be in time for all the gayeties, if not for the ceremony 
 itself. 
 
 There existed but little similarity between the persons 
 and manners of this young nobleman and the baronet's 
 heir. The beauty of Chatterton was almost feminine. His 
 skin, his color, his eyes, his teeth, were such as many a 
 belle had sighed after ; and his manners were bashful and 
 retiring. Yet an intimacy had commenced between the 
 boys at school, which ripened into friendship between the 
 young men at college, and had been maintained ever since, 
 probably as much from the contrarieties of character as 
 from any other cause. With the baron, John was more 
 sedate than ordinary ; with John, Chatterton found unusual 
 animation. But a secret charm which John held over the 
 young peer was his profound respect and unvarying affec- 
 tion for his youngest sister, Emily. This was common 
 ground ; and no dreams of future happiness, no visions of 
 dawning wealth, crossed the imagination of Chatterton, irt 
 which Emily was not the fairy to give birth to the one, or 
 the benevolent dispenser of the hoards of the other. 
 
 The arrival of this family was a happy relief from the 
 oppression which hung on the spirits of the Moseleys, 
 and their reception marked with the mild benevolence 
 which belonged to the nature of the baronet, and that em* 
 
PR EC A UTION. 49 
 
 prcssement which so eminently distinguished the manners 
 of his wife. 
 
 The Honorable Misses Chatterton were both handsome ; 
 but the younger was, if possible, a softened picture of her 
 brother. There was the same retiring bashfulness and the 
 same sweetness of temper as distinguished the baron, and 
 Grace was the peculiar favorite of Emily Moseley. Noth- 
 ing of the strained or sentimental nature which so often 
 characterizes what are called female friendships, however, 
 had crept into the communications between these young 
 women. Emily loved her sisters too well to go out of 
 her own family for a repository of her griefs or a partaker 
 in her joys. Had her life been checkered with such pas- 
 sions, her own sisters were too near her own age to suffer 
 her to think of a confidence in which the holy ties of nat- 
 ural affection did not give a claim to a participation. Mrs. 
 Wilson had found it necessary to give her charge very dif- 
 ferent views on many subjects from those which Jane and 
 Clara had been suffered to imbibe of themselves ; but in 
 no degree had she impaired the obligations of filial piety 
 or family concord. Emily was, if anything, more respect- 
 ful to her parents, more affectionate to her friends, than 
 any of her connections ; for in her the warmth of natural 
 feeling was heightened by an unvarying sense of duty. 
 
 In Grace Chatterton she found, in many respects, a tem- 
 per and taste resembling her own. She therefore loved 
 her better than others who had equally general claims on 
 her partiality, and as such a friend she now received her 
 with cordial and sincere affection. 
 
 Jane, who had not felt satisfied with the ordering of 
 Providence for the disposal of her sympathies, and had 
 long felt a restlessness that prompted her to look abroad 
 for a confiding spirit to whom to communicate her secrets 
 she had none that delicacy would suffer her to reveal, but 
 to communicate her crude opinions and reflections, had 
 early selected Catherine for this person. Catherine, how- 
 ever, had not stood the test of trial. For a short time the 
 love of heraldry kept them together ; but Jane, finding her 
 companion's gusto limited to the charms of the coronet 
 and supporters chiefly, abandoned the attempt in despair, 
 and was actually on the lookout for a new candidate for 
 the vacant station as Colonel Egerton came into the neigh- 
 borhood. A really delicate female mind shrinks from the 
 exposure of its love to the other sex ; and Jane began to be 
 less anxious to form a connection which would either vio< 
 
50 PRECA UTION. 
 
 late the sensibility of her nature, or lead to treachery to 
 her friend. 
 
 " I regret extremely, Lady Moseley," said the dowager, 
 as they entered the drawing-room, "that the accident 
 which befell Chatterton should have kept us until it was 
 too late for the ceremony ; we made it a point to hasten 
 with our congratulations, however, as soon as Astley Cooper 
 thought it safe for him to travel." 
 
 "I feel indebted for your kindness," replied the smiling 
 hostess ; " we are always happy to have our friends around 
 us, and none more than yourself and family. We were 
 fortunate in finding a friend to supply your son's place, 
 in order that the young people might go to the altar 
 in a proper manner. Lady Chatterton, allow me to pre- 
 sent our friend, Colonel Egerton " adding, in a low tone, 
 and with a little emphasis, "heir to Sir Edgar." 
 
 The colonel bowed gracefully, and the dowager dropped 
 a hasty courtesy at the commencement of the speech ; but 
 a lower bend followed the closing remark, and a glance of 
 the eye was thrown in quest of her daughters, as if she in- 
 stinctively wished to bring them into what the sailors term 
 " the line of battle." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE following morning, Emily and Grace, declining the 
 invitation to join the colonel and John in their usual rides, 
 walked to the rectory, accompanied by Mrs. Wilson and 
 Chatterton. The ladies felt a desire to witness the happi- 
 ness that they so well knew reigned in the rectory, for 
 Francis had promised his father to drive Clara over in the 
 course of the day. Emily longed to see Clara, from whom 
 it appeared that she had been already separated a month. 
 Her impatience as they approached the house hurried her 
 ahead of her companions, who waited the more sober gait 
 of Mrs. Wilson. She entered the parlor at the rectory 
 without meeting any one, glowing with exercise, her hair 
 falling over her shoulders, released from the confinement 
 of the hat she had thrown down hastily as she reached the 
 door. In the room there stood a gentleman in deep blnck, 
 with his back toward the entrance, intent on a book, and 
 she naturally concluded it was Francis. 
 
PRECAUTION. $t 
 
 " Where is dear Clara, Frank ? " cried the beautiful girl, 
 laying her hand affectionately on his shoulder. 
 
 The gentleman turned suddenly, and presented to her 
 astonished gaze the well-remembered countenance of the 
 voung man whose parent's death was not likely to be for- 
 gotten at B . 
 
 "I thought, sir," said Emily, almost sinking with confu- 
 sion, "that Mr. Francis Ives " 
 
 "Your brother has not yet arrived, Miss Moseley," sim- 
 ply replied the stranger, who felt for her embarrassment. 
 "But I will immediately acquaint Mrs. Ives with your 
 visit." Bowing, he delicately left the room. 
 
 Emily, who felt greatly relieved by his manner, imme- 
 diately confined her hair in its proper bounds, and had 
 recovered her composure by the time her aunt and friends 
 joined her. She had no time to mention the incident, and 
 laugh at her own precipitation, when the rector's wife 
 came into the room. 
 
 Chatterton and his sister were both known to Mrs. Ives, 
 and both were favorites. She was pleased to see them ; 
 and, after reproaching the brother with compelling her 
 son to ask a favor of a comparative stranger, she turned to 
 Emily, and smilingly said 
 
 "You found the partor occupied, I believe?" 
 
 "Yes," said Emily, laughing and blushing; "I suppose 
 Mr. Denbigh told you of my heedlessness." 
 
 " He told me of your attention in calling so soon to in- 
 quire after Clara, but said nothing more." A servant just 
 then telling her Francis wished to see her, she excused 
 herself and withdrew. In the door she met Mr. Denbigh, 
 who made way for her, saying, "Your son has arrived, 
 ma'am ; " and in an easy but respectful manner he took his 
 place among the guests, no introduction passing, and none 
 seeming necessary. His misfortunes appeared to have 
 made him acquainted with Mrs. Wilson, and his strikingly 
 ingenuous manner won insensibly on the confidence of 
 those who heard him. Everything was natural, yet every- 
 thing was softened by education ; and the little party in 
 the rector's parlor in fifteen minutes felt as if they had 
 known him for years. The doctor and his son now joined 
 them. Clara had not come, but she was looking forward 
 in delightful expectation of to-morrow, and wished greatly 
 for Emily as a guest at the new abode. This pleasure Mrs. 
 Wilson promised she should have as soon as they had got 
 ov r " the hurry of their visit. "Our friends," she added, 
 
$2 PRECAUTION. 
 
 turning to Grace, " will overlook the nicer punctilios of 
 ceremony, where sisterly regards calls for the discharge of 
 more important duties. Clara needs the society of Emily 
 just now." 
 
 " Certainly," said Grace, mildly ; " I hope no useless 
 ceremony on the part of Emily would prevent her mani- 
 festing natural attachment to her sister I should feel hurt 
 at her not entertaining a better opinion of us than to sup- 
 pose so for a moment." 
 
 "This, young ladies, is the real feeling to keep alive 
 esteem," cried the doctor, gayly. " Go on, and say and do 
 nothing of which either can disapprove, when tried by the 
 standard of duty, and you need never be afraid of losing a 
 friend that is worth keeping." 
 
 It was three o'clock before the carriage of Mrs. Wilson 
 arrived at the rectory ; and the time stole away insensibly 
 in free and friendly communications. Denbigh had joined 
 modestly, and with the degree of interest a stranger might 
 be supposed to feel in the occurrences of a circle to which 
 he was nearly a stranger. There was at times a slight dis- 
 play of awkwardness, however, about both him and Mrs. 
 Ives, for which Mrs. Wilson easily accounted by recollec- 
 tions of his recent loss, and the scene they had all wit- 
 nessed in that very room. This embarrassment escaped 
 the notice of the rest of the party. On the arrival of the 
 carriage, Mrs. Wilson took her leave. 
 
 " I like this Mr. Denbigh greatly," said Lord Chatterton, 
 as the drove from the door ; " there is something strikingly 
 natural and winning in his manner." 
 
 "In his matter, too, judging of the little we have seen 
 of him," replied Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 "Who is he, ma'am?" 
 
 " I rather suspect he is some way related to Mrs. Ives. 
 Her staying from Bolton to-day must be owing to Mr. 
 Denbigh ; and, as the doctor has just gone, he must be 
 near enough to them to be neither wholly neglected nor 
 yet a tax upon their politeness. I rather wonder he did 
 not go with them." 
 
 "I heard him tell Francis," remarked Emily, "that he 
 could not think of intruding, and he insisted on Mrs. Ives's 
 going, but she had employments to keep her at home." 
 
 The carriage soon reached an angle in the road where 
 the highways between Bolton Castle and Moseley Hall 
 intersected each other, at a point on the estate of the 
 iormer. Mrs. Wilson stopped a moment to inquire after 
 
PRECA UTION. 53 
 
 an aged pensioner, who had lately met with a loss in busi- 
 ness, which she was fearful must have greatly distressed 
 him. In crossing a ford in the little river between his 
 cottage and the market-town, the stream, which had been 
 swollen unexpectedly higher than usual by heavy rains, 
 had swept away his horse and cart loaded with the entire 
 produce of his small field, and with much difficulty he had 
 saved even his own life. Mrs. Wilson had not had it in her 
 power until this moment to inquire particularly into the 
 affair, or to offer the relief she was ever ready to bestow 
 on proper objects. Contrary to her expectations, she found 
 Humphreys in high spirits, showing his delighted grand- 
 children a new cart and horse which stood at the door, and 
 exultingly pointing out the excellent qualities of both. 
 He ceased talking on the approach of the party, and at 
 the request of his ancient benefactress he gave a particu- 
 lar account of the affair. 
 
 " And where did you get this new cart and horse, Hum- 
 phreys?" inquired Mrs. Wilson, when he had ended. 
 
 " Oh, madam, I went up to the castle to see the steward, 
 and Mr. Martin just mentioned my loss to Lord Penden- 
 nyss, ma'am, and my lord ordered me this cart, ma'am, 
 and this noble horse, and twenty golden guineas into the 
 bargain, to put me on my legs again. God bless him for 
 it, forever." 
 
 " It was very kind of his lordship, indeed," said Mrs. 
 Wilson, thoughtfully. " I did not know he was at the 
 castle." 
 
 " He's gone already, madam. The servants told me that 
 he just called to see the earl, on his way to Lon'on ; but, 
 finding he'd went a few days agone to Ireland, my lord 
 went for Lon'on, without stopping the night even. Ah.! 
 madam," continued the old man, who stood leaning on a 
 stick, with his hat in his hand, " he's a great blessing to 
 the poor ; his servants say he gives thousands every year 
 to the poor who are in want : he is main rich, too some 
 people say much richer and more great like than the earl 
 himself. I'm sure I have need to bless him every day of 
 my life." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson smiled mournfully as she wished Hum- 
 phreys good day, and put up her purse, finding the old 
 man so well provided for ; a display of competition in 
 charity never entering into her system of benevolence. 
 
 " His lordship is munificent in his bounty," said Emily, 
 as they drove from the door. 
 
54 PRECA UTIOtf. 
 
 11 Does it not savor of thoughtlessness to bestow so much 
 where he can know so little ? " Lord Chatterton ventured 
 to inquire. 
 
 " He is," replied Mrs. Wilson, "as old Humphreys says, 
 main rich ; but the son of the old man, and the father of 
 
 these children, is a soldier in the th dragoons, of which 
 
 the earl is colonel, and that accounts to me for his liber- 
 ality " recollecting, with a sigh, the feelings which had 
 drawn her out of the usual circle of her charities in the 
 case of this same man. 
 
 " Did you ever see Lord Pendennyss, aunt ? " 
 
 " Never, my dear. He has been much abroad, but my 
 letters were filled with his praises, and I confess my disap- 
 pointment is great in not seeing him on this visit to Lord 
 Bolton, who is his relation ; but," fixing her eyes thought- 
 fully on her niece, " we shall meet in London this winter, 
 I trust." 
 
 As she spoke, a cloud passed over her features, and she 
 continued much absorbed in thought for the remainder of 
 their drive. 
 
 General Wilson had been a cavalry officer, and he com- 
 manded the very regiment now held by Lord Pendennyss. 
 In an excursion near the British camp he had been rescued 
 from captivity, if not from death, by a gallant and timely 
 interference of this young nobleman, then in command of 
 a troop in the same corps. He had mentioned the occur- 
 rence to his wife in his letters, and from that day his cor- 
 respondence was filled with the praises of the bravery and 
 goodness to the soldiery of his young comrade. When he 
 fell, he had been supported from the field by, and he actually 
 died in the arms of, the young peer. A letter announcing 
 his death had been received by his widow from the earl 
 himself, and the tender and affectionate manner in which 
 he spoke of her husband had taken a deep hold on 
 her affections. All the circumstances together threw an 
 interest around him that had made Mrs. Wilson almost en- 
 tertain the romantic wish he might be found worthy and 
 disposed to solicit the hand of Emily. Her anxious in- 
 quiries into his character had been attended with such an- 
 swers as flattered her wishes : but the military duties of 
 the earl, or his private affairs, had never allowed a meet- 
 ing : and she was now compelled to look forward to what 
 John laughingly termed their winter campaign, as the only 
 probable place where she could be gratified with the sight 
 of a young man to whom she owed so much, and whose 
 
PRECA UTION. 55 
 
 name was connected with some of the most tender though 
 most melancholy recollections of her life. 
 
 Colonel Egerton, who now appeared to be almost do- 
 mesticated in the family, was again of the party at dinner, 
 to the no small satisfaction of the dowager, who from 
 proper inquiries in the course of the day had learned 
 that Sir Edgar's heir was likely to have the necessary 
 number of figures in the sum total of his rental. While 
 sitting in the drawing-room that afternoon, she made an 
 attempt to bring her eldest daughter and the elegant 
 soldier together over a chess-board a game the young 
 lady had been required to learn because it was one at 
 which a gentleman could be kept longer than any other 
 without having his attention drawn away by any of those 
 straggling charms which might be travelling a drawing- 
 room " seeking whom they may devour." It was also a 
 game admirably suited to the display of a beautiful hand 
 and arm. But the mother had for a long time been puz- 
 zled to discover a way of bringing in the foot also, the 
 young lady being particularly remarkable for the beauty 
 of that portion of the frame. In vain her daughter hinted 
 at dancing, an amusement of which she was passionately 
 fond. The wary mother knew too well the effects of con- 
 centrated force to listen to the suggestion: dancing might 
 do for every manager, but she prided herself in acting en 
 masse, like Napoleon, whose tactics consisted in overwhelm- 
 ing by uniting his forces on a given point. After many 
 experiments in her own person, she endeavored to im- 
 prove Catharine's manner of sitting, and by dint of twist- 
 ing and turning she contrived that her pretty foot and 
 ankle should be thrown forward in a way that the eye, 
 dropping from the move, should unavoidably rest on this 
 beauteous object ; giving, as it were, a Scylla and Charyb- 
 dis to her daughter's charms. 
 
 John Moseley was the first person on whom she under- 
 took to try the effect of her invention ; and, after comfort- 
 ably seating the parties, she withdrew to a little distance, 
 to watch the effect. 
 
 "Check to your king, Miss Chatterton," cried John, 
 early in the game and the young lady thrust out her foot. 
 " Check to your king, Mr. Moseley," echoed the damsel, 
 and John's eyes wandered from hand to foot and foot to 
 hand. " Check king and queen, sir." "Check-mate. "- 
 " Did you speak ?" said John. Looking up, he caught the 
 eye of the dowager fixed on him in triumph. "Oh, ho!" 
 
56 PR EC A UTfOJV. 
 
 said the young man, internally, " Mother Chatterton, are 
 'you plaving too ? " and, coolly taking up his hat, he walked 
 off, nor could they ever get him seated at the game again. 
 
 "You beat me too easily, Miss Chatterton," he would 
 say when pressed to play ; " before I have time to look up, 
 it's ' Check-mate ' excuse me." 
 
 The dowager next settled down into a more covert attack 
 through Grace ; but here she had two to contend with ; 
 her own forces rebelled, and the war had been protracted 
 to the present hour with varied success, and at least with- 
 out any material captures, on one side. 
 
 Colonel Egerton entered on the duties of his dangerous 
 undertaking with the indifference of foolhardiness. The 
 game was played with tolerable ability by both parties ; 
 but no emotions, no absence of mind, could be discovered 
 on the part of the gentleman. Feet and hands were in 
 motion ; still the colonel played as well as usual ; he had 
 answers for all Jane's questions, and smiles for his part- 
 ner ; but no check-mate could she obtain until, wilfully 
 throwing away an advantage, he suffered the lady to win 
 the game. The dowager was satisfied nothing could be 
 done with the colonel. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE first carriages that rolled over the lawn to Bolton 
 parsonage, on the succeeding day, were those of the bar- 
 onet and his sister ; the latter in advance. 
 
 "There, Francis," cried Emily, who was impatiently 
 waiting for him to remove some slight obstruction to her 
 alighting "thank you, thank you ; that will do." 
 
 In the next moment she was in the extended arms of 
 Clara. After pressing each other to their bosoms for a few 
 moments in silence, Emily looked up, with a tear glisten- 
 ing in her eye, and first noticed the form of Denbigh, who 
 was modestly withdrawing, as if unwilling to intrude on 
 such pure and domestic feelings as the sisters were betray- 
 ing, unconscious of the presence of a witness. Mrs. Wil- 
 son and Jane, followed by Miss Chatterton, now T entered, 
 and cordial salutes and greetings flowed upon Clara from 
 her various friends. 
 
 The baronet's coach reached the door ; it contained him- 
 self and wife, Mr. Benfield, and Lady Chatterton. Clan 
 
PRECA VTWN; 
 
 57 
 
 stood on the portico of the building, ready to receive them ; 
 her face all smiles, and tears, and blushes, and her arm 
 locked in that of Emily. 
 
 " I wish you joy of your new abode, Mrs. Francis." Lady 
 Moseley forgot her form, and, bursting into tears, she 
 pressed her daughter with ardor to her bosom. 
 
 " Clara, my love ! " said the baronet, hastily wiping his 
 eyes, and succeeding his wife in the embrace of their child. 
 He kissed her, and, pressing Francis by the hand, walked 
 into the house in silence. 
 
 "Well, well," .cried the dowager, as she saluted her 
 cousin, "all looks comfortable and genteel here, upon my 
 word, Mrs. Ives : grapery hot-houses everything in good 
 style, too ; and Sir Edward tells me the living is worth a 
 good five hundred a year." 
 
 " So, girl, I suppose you expect a kiss," said Mr. Ben- 
 field, who ascended the steps slowly and with difficulty. 
 " Kissing has gone much out of fashion lately. I remem- 
 ber, on the marriage of my friend, Lord Gosford, in the 
 year fifty-eight, that all the maids and attendants were 
 properly saluted in order. The lady Juliana was quite 
 young then not more than fifteen ; it was there I got my 
 first salute from her but so kiss me." After which he 
 continued, as they went into the house : " Marrying in that 
 day was a serious business. You might visit a lady a dozen 
 times before you could get a sight of her naked hand. 
 Who's that ? " stopping short, and looking earnestly at Den- 
 bigh, who now approached them. 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh, sir," said Clara; "my uncle, Mr. Ben- 
 field." 
 
 " Did you ever know, sir, a gentleman of your name, 
 who sat in the Parliament of this realm in the year sixty ? " 
 Mr. Benfield abruptly asked, as soon as the civilities of the 
 introduction were exchanged. "You don't look much like 
 him." 
 
 "That was rather before my day, sir," said Denbigh, 
 with a smile, respectfully offering to relieve Clara, who 
 supported him on one side, while Emily held his arm on 
 the other. 
 
 The old gentleman was particularly averse to strangers, 
 and Emily was in terror lest he should say something rude ; 
 but, after examining Denbigh again from head to foot, he 
 took the offered arm, and coolly replied t 
 
 "True, very true; that \vas sixty years ago; you can 
 hardly recollect as long. Ah! Mr. Denbigh, times are 
 
5 8 PRECAUTION. 
 
 sadly altered since my youth. People who were then glad 
 to ride on a pillion now drive their coaches ; men who 
 thought ale a luxury, drink their port ; ay ! and those who 
 went barefoot must have their shoes and stockings, too. 
 Luxury, sir, and the love of ease, will ruin this mighty em- 
 pire. Corruption has taken hold of everything ; the min- 
 istry buy the members, the members buy the ministry ; 
 everything is bought and sold. Now, sir, in the Parlia- 
 ment in which I had the honor of a seat, there was a knot 
 of us, as upright as posts, sir. My Lord Gosford was one, 
 and General Denbigh was another, although I can't say he 
 was much a favorite with me. You do not look in the least 
 like him. How was he related to you, sir ? " 
 
 " He was my grandfather," replied Denbigh, looking 
 pleasantly at Emily, as if to tell her he understood the 
 character of her uncle. 
 
 Had the old man continued his speech an hour longer, 
 Denbigh would not have complained. They had stopped 
 while talking, and he thus became confronted with the 
 beautiful figure that supported the other arm. Denbigli 
 contemplated in admiration the varying countenance which 
 now blushed with apprehension, and now smiled in affec- 
 tion, or even with an archer expression, as her uncle pro- 
 ceeded in his harangue on the times. But all felicity in 
 this world has an end, as well as misery. Denbigh retained 
 the recollection of that speech long after Mr. Benfield was 
 comfortably seated in the parlor, though for his life he 
 could not recollect a word he had said. 
 
 The Haughtons, the Jarvises, and a few more of their 
 intimate acquaintances, arrived, and the parsonage had a 
 busy air ; but John, who had undertaken to drive Grace 
 Chatterton in his own phaeton, was yet absent. Some lit- 
 tle anxiety had begun to be manifested, when he appeared, 
 dashing through the gates at a great rate, and with the 
 skill of a member of the four-in-hand. 
 
 Lady Chatterton had begun to be seriously uneasy, and 
 she was about to speak to her son to go in quest of them, 
 as they came in sight ; but now her fears vanished, and she 
 could only suppose that a desire to have Grace alone could 
 keep one who had the reputation of a Jehu so much be- 
 hind the rest of the party. She met them in great spirits, 
 crying : 
 
 " Upon my word, Mr. Moseley, I began to think you had 
 taken the road to Scotland, you staid so long." 
 
 " Your daughter, my Lady Chatterton," said John, pithi- 
 
PR EC A UTION. 59 
 
 ly, " would go to Scotland neither with me nor any other 
 man, or T am greatly deceived in her character. Clara, my 
 sister, how do you do ? " He saluted the bride with great 
 warmth and affection. 
 
 " But what detained you, Moseley ? " inquired the 
 mother. 
 
 " One of the horses was restive, and he broke the har- 
 ness. We merely stopped in the village while it was 
 mended." 
 
 " And how did Grace behave ? " asked Emily, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, a thousand times better than you would, sister ; as 
 she always does, and like an angel." 
 
 The only point in dispute between Emily and her brother 
 was her want of faith in his driving ; while poor Grace, 
 naturally timid, and unwilling to oppose any one, particu- 
 larly the gentleman who then held the reins, had governed 
 herself sufficiently to be silent and motionless. Indeed, 
 she could hardly do otherwise had she wished it, so great 
 was his impetuosity of character ; and John felt flattered 
 to a degree of which he was himself unconscious. Self- 
 complacency, aided by the merit, the beauty, and the deli- 
 cacy of the young lady herself, might have led to the very 
 results her mother so anxiously wished to produce, had 
 that mother been satisfied with letting things take their 
 course. But managers very generally overdo their -work. 
 
 " Grace is a good girl," said her gratified mother ; "and 
 you found her very valiant, Mr. Moseley ?" 
 
 " Oh, as brave as Caesar," answered John, carelessly, in 
 a way that was not quite free from irony. 
 
 Grace, whose burning cheek showed but too plainly that 
 praise from John Moseley was an incense too powerful for 
 her resistance, now sank back behind some of the company 
 endeavoring to conceal the tears that almost gushed from 
 her eyes. Denbigh was a silent spectator of the whole 
 scene, and he now considerately observed, that he had 
 lately seen an improvement which would obviate the diffi- 
 culty Mr. Moseley had experienced. John turned to the 
 speaker, and they were soon engaged in the discussion of 
 curbs and buckles, when the tilbury of Colonel Egerton 
 drove to the door, containing himself and his friend, the 
 captain. 
 
 The bride undoubtedly received congratulations that 
 day more sincere than those which were now offered, but 
 none were delivered in a more graceful and insinuating 
 manner than the compliments which fell from Colonel 
 
<5o PRECA UTION. 
 
 Egerton. He passed round the room, speaking to his ac- 
 quaintances, until he arrived at the chair of Jane, who was 
 seated next her aunt. Here he stopped, and, glancing his 
 eye round, and saluting with bows and smiles the re- 
 mainder of the party, he appeared fixed at the centre of 
 all attraction. 
 
 " There is a gentleman I think I have never seen before," 
 he observed to Mrs. Wilson,^ casting his eyes on Denbigh, 
 whose back was toward him, in discourse with Mr. Benfield. 
 
 "It is Mr. Denbigh, of whom you heard us speak, "re- 
 plied Mrs. Wilson. While she spoke, Denbigh faced them. 
 Egerton started as he caught a view of his face, and seemed 
 to gaze on the countenance which was open to his inspec- 
 tion with an earnestness that showed an interest of some 
 kind, but of a nature that was inexplicable to Mrs. Wilson, 
 who was the only observer of this singular recognition ; 
 for such it evidently was. All was now natural in the 
 colonel for the moment ; his color sensibly changed, and 
 there was an expression of doubt in his face. It might be 
 fear, it might be horror, it might be a strong aversion ; it 
 clearly was not love. Emily sat by her aunt, and Denbigh 
 approached them, making a cheerful remark. It was im- 
 possible for the colonel to avoid him had he wished it, and 
 he kept his ground. Mrs. Wilson thought she would try 
 the experiment of an introduction. 
 
 " Colonel Egerton Mr. Denbigh." 
 
 Both gentlemen bowed, but nothing striking was seen 
 in the deportment of either. The colonel, who was not 
 exactly at ease, said hastily 
 
 "Mr. Denbigh is or has been in the army, I believe." 
 
 Denbigh was now taken by surprise in his turn. He 
 cast a look on Egerton of fixed and settled meaning ; then 
 carelessly observed, but still as if requiring an answer - 
 
 " I am yet ; but I do not recollect having had the 
 pleasure of meeting with Colonel Egerton on service." 
 
 "Your countenance is familiar, sir," replied the colonel, 
 coldly ; " but at this moment I cannot tax my memory with 
 the place of our meeting, though one sees so many 
 strange faces in a campaign, that they come and go like 
 shadows." 
 
 He then changed the conversation. It was some time, 
 however, before either gentleman entirely recovered his 
 ease, and many days elapsed ere anything like intercourse 
 passed between them. The colonel attached himself dur- 
 ing this visit to Jane, with occasional notices of the Misses 
 
PRECA UTION. 67 
 
 Jarvis, who began to manifest symptoms of uneasiness at 
 the decided preference he showed to a lady they now 
 chose to look upon, in some measure, as a rival. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson and her charge, on the other hand, were 
 entertained by the conversation of Chatterton and Den- 
 bigh, relieved by occasional sallies from the lively John. 
 There was something in the person and manners of Den- 
 bigh that insensibly attracted those whom chance threw 
 in his way. His face was not strikingly handsome, but it 
 was noble ; and when he smiled, or was much animated, it 
 invariably communicated a spark of his own enthusiasm to 
 the beholder. His figure was faultless ; his air and man- 
 ner, if less easy than those of Colonel Egerton, were more 
 sincere and ingenuous ; his breeding was clearly higher ; 
 his respect for others rather bordering on the old school. 
 But in his voice there existed a charm which would make 
 him, when he spoke, to a female ear, almost resistless : it 
 was soft, deep, melodious, and winning. 
 
 " Baronet," said the rector, looking with a smile toward 
 his son and daughter, " I love to see my children happy, 
 and Mrs. Ives threatens a divorce if I go on in the manner 
 I have commenced. She says I desert her for Bolton." 
 
 "Why, doctor, if our wives conspire against us, and pre- 
 vent our enjoying a comfortable dish of tea with Clara, or 
 a glass of wine with Frank, we must call in the higher 
 authorities as umpires. What say you, sister ? Is a 
 parent to desert his child in any case ? " 
 
 " My opinion is," said Mrs Wilson, with a smile, yet 
 speaking with emphasis, " that a parent is not to desert a 
 child, in any case or in any manner." 
 
 " Do you hear that, my Lady Moseley ? " cried the good- 
 humored baronet. 
 
 " Do you hear that, my Lady Chatterton ?" echoed John, 
 who had just taken a seat by Grace, when her mother 
 approached them. 
 
 " I hear it, but do not see the application, Mr. Moseley." 
 
 " No, my lady ! Why, there is the honorable Miss Chat- 
 terton almost dying to play a game of her favorite chess 
 with Mr. Denbigh. She has beaten us all but him, and 
 her triumph will not be complete until she has him, too, 
 at her feet." 
 
 And as Denbigh politely offered to meet the challenge, 
 the board was produced, and the parties were seated. 
 Lady Chatterton stood leaning over her daughter's chair 
 with a view, however, to prevent any of those conse* 
 
62 PRECA UTION. 
 
 quences she was generally fond of seeing result from this 
 amusement ; every measure taken by this prudent mother 
 being literally governed by judicious calculation. 
 
 " Umph ! " thought John, as he viewed the players, while 
 listening with pleasure to the opinions of Grace, who had 
 recovered her composure and spirits " Kate, after all, has 
 played one game without using her feet." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 TEN days or a fortnight flew swiftly by, during which 
 Mrs. Wilson suffered Emily to give Clara a week, having 
 first ascertained that Denbigh was a settled resident at the 
 rectory, and thereby not likely to be oftener at the house 
 of Francis than at the Hall, where he was a frequent and 
 welcome guest, both on his own account and as a friend of 
 Doctor Ives. Emily had returned, and she brought the 
 bride and groom with her ; when one evening as they were 
 pleasantly seated at their various amusements, with the 
 ease of old acquaintances, Mr. Haughton entered. It was 
 at an hour rather unusual for his visits ; and, throwing 
 down his hat, after making the usual inquiries, he began 
 without preface : 
 
 " I know, good people, you are all wondering what has 
 brought me out this time of night ; but the truth is, Lucy 
 has coaxed her mother to persuade me into a ball in honor 
 of the times. So, my lady, I have consented ; and my wife 
 
 and daughter have been buying up all the finery in B , 
 
 by the way, I suppose, of anticipating their friends. There 
 is a regiment of foot come into barracks within fifteen 
 miles of us, and to-morrow I must beat up for recruits 
 among the officers girls are never wanting on such occa- 
 sions." 
 
 "Why," cried the baronet, "you are growing young 
 again, my friend." 
 
 " No, Sir Edward, but my daughter is young, and life 
 has so many cares, that I am willing she should get rid of 
 as many as she can at my expense." 
 
 " Surely you would not wish her to dance them away," 
 said Mrs. Wilson. " Such relief, I am afraid, will prove 
 temporary." 
 
 -'Do you disapprove of dancing, ma'am?" said Mr 
 
PRECA UTION. 63 
 
 Haughton, who held her opinions in great respect, as well 
 as a little dread. 
 
 " I neither approve nor disapprove of it. Jumping up and 
 down is innocent enough in itself, and, if it must be done, 
 it is well it were done gracefully. As for the accompani- 
 ments of dancing, I say nothing what do you say, Doctor 
 Ives?" 
 
 " To what, my dear madarn ? " 
 
 " To dancing." 
 
 "Oh, let the girls dance, if they enjoy it." 
 
 "I am glad you think so, doctor," cried the delighted 
 Mr. Haughton. " I was afraid I recollected your advising 
 your son never to dance nor to play at games of chance." 
 
 " You thought right, my friend," said the doctor, laying 
 down his newspaper ; " I did give that advice to Frank, 
 whom you will please to remember is now rector of Bolton. 
 I do not object to dancing as not innocent in itself, or as 
 an elegant exercise ; but it is, like drinking, generally car- 
 ried to excess. Now, as a Christian, I am opposed to all 
 excesses ; the music and company lead to intemperance in 
 the recreation, and they often induce neglect of duties 
 but so may anything else." 
 
 " I like a game of whist, doctor, greatly," said Mr. Haugh- 
 ton ; " but observing that you never play, and recollecting 
 your advice to Mr. Francis, I have forbidden cards when 
 you are my guest." 
 
 " I thank you for the compliment, good sir," replied the 
 doctor, with a smile ; " still I would much rather see you 
 play cards than hear you talk scandal, as you sometimes 
 do." 
 
 " Scandal ! " echoed Mr. Haughton. 
 
 " Ay, scandal," said the doctor, coolly, " such as the re- 
 mark you made the last time, which was only yesterday, I 
 called to see you. You accused Sir Edward of being wrong 
 in letting that poacher off so easily ; the baronet, you said, 
 did not shoot himself, and did not know how to prize game 
 as he ought." 
 
 " Scandal, doctor do you call that scandal ? Why, I told 
 Sir Edward so himself, two or three times." 
 
 " I know you did, and that was rude." 
 
 " Rude ! I hope sincerely Sir Edward has put no such 
 construction on it ? " 
 
 The baronet smiled kindly, and shook his head. 
 
 " Because the baronet chooses to forgive your offences, 
 it does not alter their nature," said the doctor, gravely, 
 
^4 PRECA UTION. 
 
 " no, you must repent and amend ; you impeached his 
 motives for doing a benevolent act, and that I call scan- 
 dal." 
 
 " Why, doctor, I was angry the fellow should be let 
 loose ; he is a pest to all the game in the county, and 
 every sportsman will tell you so. Here, Mr. Moseley, you 
 know Jackson, the poacher ?" 
 
 " Oh ! a poacher is an intolerable wretch ! " cried Captain 
 Jarvis. 
 
 " Oh ! a poacher," echoed John, looking drolly at Emily 
 " hang all poachers ! " 
 
 " Poacher or no poacher, does not alter the scandal," 
 said the doctor. " Now let me tell you, good sir, I would 
 rather play at fifty games of whist than make one such 
 speech, unless indeed it interfered with my duties. Now, 
 sir, with your leave, I'll explain myself as to my son. 
 There is an artificial levity about dancing that adds to the 
 dignity of no man ; from some it may detract. A clergy- 
 man, for instance, is supposed to have other things to do ; 
 and it might hurt him in the opinions of those with whom 
 his influence is necessary, and impair his usefulness : 
 therefore a clergyman should never dance. In the same 
 way with cards : they are the common instruments of 
 gambling, and an odium is attached to them on that 
 account. Women and clergymen must respect the preju- 
 dices of mankind in some cases, or lose their influence in 
 society." 
 
 " I did hope to have the pleasure of your company, 
 doctor," said Mr. Haughton, hesitatingly. 
 
 " And if it will give you pleasure," cried the rector, 
 " you shall have it with all my heart, good sir ; it would be 
 a greater evil to wdund the feelings of such a neighbor as 
 Mr. Haughton, than to show my face once at a ball." 
 And, rising, he laid his hand on the shoulder of the other 
 kindly. " Both your scandal and rudeness are easily for- 
 given ; but I wished to show you the common error of 
 the world, which has attached odium to certain things, 
 while it charitably overlooks others of a more heinous 
 nature." 
 
 Mr. Haughton, who had at first been a little staggered 
 with the attack of the doctor, recovered himself, and, lay- 
 ing a handful of notes on the table, hoped he should have 
 the pleasure of seeing everybody. The invitation was 
 generally accepted, and the worthy man departed, happ^ 
 if his friends did but come, and were pleased. 
 
PR EC A UTION. 65 
 
 " Do you dance, Miss Moseley?" inquired Denbigh of 
 Emily, as he sat watching her graceful movements in net- 
 ting a purse for her father. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! the doctor said nothing of us girls, you 
 know. I suppose he thinks we have no dignity to lose." 
 
 "Admonitions are generally thrown away on young 
 ladies when pleasure is in the question," said the doctor, 
 with' a look of almost paternal affection. 
 
 " I hope you do not seriously disapprove of it in modera- 
 tion," said Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 "That depends, madam, upon circumstances. If it is to 
 be made subsidiary to envy, malice, coquetry, vanity, or 
 any other such little lady-like accomplishment, it certainly 
 had better be let alone. But in moderation, and with the 
 feelings of my little pet here, I should be cynical, indeed, 
 to object." 
 
 Denbigh appeared lost in his own ruminations during 
 this dialogue ;.,and as the doctor ended, he turned to the 
 captain, who was overlooking a game of chess between the 
 colonel and Jane (of which the latter had become remark- 
 ably fond of late, playing with her hands and eyes instead 
 of her feet), and inquired the "name of the corps in bar- 
 racks at F . 
 
 " The th foot, sir," replied the captain, haughtily, 
 
 who neither respected him, owing to his want of conse- 
 quence, nor loved him, from the manner in which Emily 
 listened to his conversation. 
 
 " Will Miss Moseley forgive a bold request ? " said Den- 
 bigh, with some hesitation. 
 
 Emily looked up from her work in silence, but with 
 some little flutterings at the heart. 
 
 "The honor of her hand for the first dance," continued 
 Denbigh, observing she was in expectation that he would 
 proceed. 
 
 Emily laughingly said, " Certainly, Mr. Denbigh, if you 
 can submit to the degradation." 
 
 The London papers now came in, and most of the 
 gentlemen sat down to their perusal. The colonel, how- 
 ever, replaced the men for a second game, and Denbigh 
 still kept his place beside Mrs. Wilson and her niece. The 
 manners, the sentiments, the whole exterior of this gentle- 
 man were such as both the taste and judgment of the aunt 
 approved of ; his qualities were those which insensibly 
 gained on the heart ; and yet Mrs. Wilson noticed, with a 
 slight uneasiness, the very evident satisfaction her niece 
 
66 PRECA UTIOtf. 
 
 took in his society: In Doctor Ives she had great confi- 
 dence, yet Doctor Ives was a friend, and probably judged 
 him favorably ; and again, Doctor Ives was not to suppose 
 he was introducing a candidate for the hand of Emily in 
 every gentleman he brought to the Hall. Mrs. Wilson 
 had seen too often the ill consequences of trusting to im- 
 pressions received from inferences of companionship, not 
 to know the only safe way was to judge for ourselves. 
 The opinions of others might be partial might be preju- 
 diced ; and many an improper connection had been formed 
 by listening to the sentiments of those who spoke without 
 interest, and consequently without examination. Not a 
 few matches are made by this idle commendation of others, 
 uttered by those who are respected, and which are probably 
 suggested more by a desire to please than by reflection or 
 even knowledge. In short, Mrs. Wilson knew that, as our 
 happiness chiefly interests ourselves, so it was to ourselves, 
 or to those few whose interest was equal t^ our own, we 
 could only trust those important inquiries necessary to 
 establish a permanent opinion of character. With Doctor 
 Ives her communications on subjects of duty were frequent 
 and confiding ; and, although she sometimes thought his 
 benevolence disposed him to be rather too lenient to the 
 faults of mankind, she entertained a profound respect for 
 his judgment. It had great influence with her, if it were 
 not always conclusive. She determined, therefpre, to have 
 an early conversation with him on the subject so near her 
 heart, and be in a great measure regulated by his answers 
 in the steps to be immediately taken. Every day gave her 
 what she thought melancholy proof of the ill consequences 
 of neglecting a duty, in the increasing intimacy of Colonel 
 Egerton and Jane. 
 
 " Here, aunt," cried John, as he ran over a paper, " is a 
 paragraph relating to your favorite youth, our trusty and 
 well-beloved cousin, the Earl of Pendennyss." 
 
 " Read it," said Mrs. Wilson, with an interest his name 
 never failed to excite. 
 
 "'We noticed to-day the equipage of the gallant Lord 
 Pendennyss before the gates of Annandale house, and un- 
 derstand the noble earl is last from Bolton castle, North- 
 amptonshire.' " 
 
 " A very important fact," said Captain Jarvis, sarcasti- 
 cally. " Colonel Egerton and myself got as far as the vil- 
 lage, to pay our respects to him, when we heard he had 
 gone on to town." 
 
PRECA UTION: 67 
 
 " The earl's character, both as a man and a soldier," ob- 
 served the colonel, " gives him a claim to our attentions 
 that his rank would not ; on that account we would have 
 called." 
 
 " Brother," said Mrs. Wilson, "you would oblige me 
 greatly by asking his lordship to waive ceremony. His 
 visits to Bolton castle will probably be frequent, now we 
 have peace ; and the owner is so much from home, that we 
 may never see him without some such invitation." 
 
 " Do you want him as a husband for Ernily ? " cried 
 John, as he gayly seated himself by the side of his sister. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson smiled at an observation which reminded 
 her of one of her romantic wishes ; and, as she raised her 
 head to reply in the same tone, met the eye of Denbigh 
 fixed on her with an expression that kept her silent. 
 "This is really an incomprehensible young man in some 
 respects," thought the cautious widow, his startling looks 
 on the introduction to the colonel crossing her mind at 
 the same time ; and, observing the doctor opening the 
 door that led to the baronet's library, Mrs. Wilson, who 
 generally acted as soon as she had decided, followed him. 
 As their conversations were known often to relate to the 
 little offices of charity in which they both delighted, the 
 movement excited no surprise, and she entered the library 
 with the doctor uninterrupted. 
 
 " Doctor," said Mrs. Wilson, impatient to proceed to 
 the point, "you know my maxim, 'Prevention is better 
 than cure.' This young friend of yours is very interest- 
 ing." 
 
 " Do you feel yourself in danger ? " said the rector, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Not very imminent," replied the lady, laughing good- 
 naturedly. Seating herself, she continued, " Who is he, 
 and who was his father, if I may ask ?" 
 
 " George Denbigh, madam, both father and son," said 
 the doctor, gravely. 
 
 " Ah, doctor, I am almost tempted to wish Frank had 
 been a girl. You know what I wish to learn." 
 
 "Put your questions in order, dear madam," said the 
 the doctor, in a kind manner, "and they shall be an- 
 swered." 
 
 " His principles ? " 
 
 " So far as I can learn, they are good. His acts, as they 
 have come to my notice, are highly meritorious, and I hope 
 they originated in proper motives. I have seen but little 
 
68 PRECA UTION-. 
 
 of him of late years, however, and on this head you are 
 nearly as good a judge as myself. His filial piety," said 
 the doctor, dashing a tear from his eye, and speaking with 
 fervor, "was lovely." 
 
 " His temper his disposition ?" 
 
 "His temper is under great command, although natu- 
 rally ardent ; his disposition eminently benevolent toward 
 his fellow-creatures." 
 
 " His connections ? " 
 
 " Suitable," said the doctor, gravely. 
 
 His fortune was of but little moment. Emily would be 
 amply provided for all the customary necessaries of her 
 station ; and, thanking the divine, Mrs. Wilson returned 
 to the parlor, easy in mind, and determined to let things 
 take their own course for a time, but in no degree to relax 
 the vigilance of her observation. 
 
 On her return to the room, Mrs. Wilson observed Den- 
 bigh approach Egerton, and enter into conversation of a 
 general nature. It was the first time anything more than 
 unavoidable courtesies had passed between them. The 
 colonel appeared slightly uneasy under his novel situa- 
 tion ; while, on the other hand, his companion showed an 
 anxiety to be on a more friendly footing than heretofore. 
 There was something mysterious in the feelings manifested 
 by both these gentlemen that greatly puzzled the good 
 lady ; and, from its complexion, she feared one or the 
 other was not entirely free from censure. It could not 
 have been a quarrel, or their names would have been 
 familiar to each other. They had both served in Spain, she 
 knew, and excesses were often committed by gentlemen 
 at a distance from home their pride would have prevented 
 where they were anxious to maintain a character. Gam- 
 bling, and a few other prominent vices, floated through her 
 imagination, until, wearied of conjectures where she had 
 no data, and supposing, after all, it might be only her im- 
 agination, she turned to more pleasant reflections. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE bright eyes of Emily Moseley unconsciously wan- 
 dered round the brilliant assemblage at Mr. Haughton's, 
 as she took her seat, in search of her partner. The rooms 
 were filled with scarlet coats, and belles from the little 
 
PRECA UTIOtf. 69 
 
 town of F ; and if the company were not the most 
 
 select imaginable, it was disposed to enjoy the passing mo- 
 ment cheerfully and in lightness of heart. Ere, however, 
 she could make out to scan the countenances of the men, 
 young Jarvis, decked in the full robes of his dignity, as 
 
 captain in the th foot, approached and solicited the 
 
 honor of her hand. The colonel had already secured her 
 sister, and it was by the instigation of his friend that Jar- 
 vis had been thus early in his application. Emily thanked 
 him, and pleaded her engagement. The mortified youth, 
 who had thought dancing with the ladies a favor conferred 
 on them, from the anxiety his sister always manifested to 
 get partners, stood for a few moments in sullen silence ; 
 and then, as if to be revenged on the sex, he determined 
 not to dance the whole evening. Accordingly, he with- 
 drew to a room appropriated to the gentlemen, where he 
 found a few of the military beaux, keeping alive the stim- 
 ulus they had brought with them from the mess-table. 
 
 Clara had prudently decided to comport herself as be- 
 came a clergyman's wife, and she declined dancing alto- 
 gether. Catherine Chatterton was entitled to open the 
 ball, as superior in years and rank to any who were dis- 
 posed to enjoy the amusement. The dowager, who in her 
 heart loved to show her airs upon such occasions, had 
 chosen to be later than the rest of the family ; and Lucy 
 had to enTreat her father to have patience more than once 
 during the interregnum in their sports created by Lady 
 Chatterton's fashion. This lady at length appeared, at- 
 tended by her son, and followed by her daughters, orna- 
 mented in all the taste of the reigning fashions. Doctor 
 Ives and his wife, who came late from choice, soon ap- 
 peared, accompanied by their guests, and the dancing 
 commenced. Denbigh had thrown aside his black for the 
 evening, and as he approached to claim her promised hand, 
 Emily thought him, if not as handsome, much more inter- 
 esting than Colonel Egerton, who just then passed them 
 while leading her sister to the set. Emily danced beauti- 
 fully, but perfectly like a lady, as did Jane ; but Denbigh, 
 although graceful in his movements and in time, knew 
 but little of the art ; and but for the assistance of his part- 
 ner, he would have more than once gone wrong in the 
 figure. He very gravely asked her opinion of his per- 
 formance as he handed her to a chair, and she laughingly 
 told him his movements were but a better sort of march. 
 He was about to reply, when Jarvis approached. By the 
 
70 PRECA UTION. 
 
 aid of a pint of wine and his own reflections, the youth 
 wrought himself into something of a passion, especially 
 as he saw Denbigh enter, after Emily had declined dancing 
 with himself. There was a gentleman in the corps who 
 unfortunately was addicted to the bottle, and he had fast- 
 ened on Jarvis, as a man at leisure, to keep him company. 
 Wine openeth the heart ; and the captain, having taken a 
 peep at the dancers, and seen the disposition of affairs, re- 
 turned to his bottle-companion bursting with the indignity 
 offered to his person. He dropped a hint, and a question 
 or two brought the whole grievance forth. 
 
 There is a certain set of men in every service who im- 
 bibe extravagant notions that are revolting to humanity, 
 and which too often prove to be fatal in their results. 
 Their morals are never correct, and the little they have 
 set loosely about them. In their own cases, their appeals 
 to arms are not always so prompt ; but in that of their 
 friends, their perceptions of honor are intuitively keen, and 
 their inflexibility in preserving it from reproach unbend- 
 ing ; and such is the weakness of mankind their tender- 
 ness on points where the nicer feelings of a soldier are in- 
 volved that these machines of custom, these thermome- 
 ters graduated to the scale of false honor, usurp the place 
 of reason and benevolence, and become too often the arbi- 
 ters of life and death to a whole corps. Such, then, was 
 the confidant to whom Jarvis communicated th"e~ cause of 
 his disgust, and the consequences may easily be imagined. 
 As he passed Emily and Denbigh, he threw a look of fierce- 
 ness at the latter, which he meant as an indication of his 
 hostile intentions. It was lost on his rival, who at that 
 moment was filled with passions of a very different kind 
 from those which Captain Jarvis thought agitated his own 
 bosom ; for had his new friend left him alone, the captain 
 would have gone quietly home, and gone to sleep. 
 
 " Have you ever fought ?" said Captain Digby, coolly, 
 to his companion, as they seated themselves in his father's 
 parlor, whither they had retired to make their arrange- 
 ments for the following morning. 
 
 "Yes," said Jarvis, with a stupid look, " I fought once 
 with Tom Halliday, at school." 
 
 " At school ! My dear friend, you commenced young 
 indeed," said Digby, helping himself to another glass. 
 "And how did it end ?" 
 
 "Oh! Tom got the better, arid so I cried, enough," said 
 Jarvis, surlily. 
 
PRECAUTION. 71 
 
 " Enough ! I hope you did not flinch," eyeing him 
 keenly. " Where were you hit ? " 
 
 " He hit me all over." 
 
 " All over ! The d 1 ! Did you use small shot ? How 
 did you fight ?" 
 
 "With fists," said Jarvis, yawning. 
 
 His companion, seeing how matters were, rang for his 
 servant to put him to bed, remaining himself an hour 
 longer to finish the bottle. 
 
 Soon after Jarvis had given Denbigh the look big with 
 his intended vengeance, Colonel Egerton approached Em- 
 ily, asking permission to present Sir Herbert Nicholson, 
 the lieutenant-colonel of the regiment, and a gentleman 
 who was ambitious of the honor of her acquaintance ; a 
 particular friend of his own. Emily gracefully bowed her 
 assent. Soon after, turning her eyes on Denbigh, who had 
 been speaking to her at the moment, she saw him looking 
 intently on the two soldiers, who were making their way 
 through the crowd to the place where she sat. He stam- 
 mered, said something she could not understand, and pre- 
 cipitately withdrew ;'and, although both she and her aunt 
 sought his figure in the gay throng that flitted around 
 them, he was seen no more that evening. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with Mr. Denbigh ?" said Emily to 
 her partner, after looking in vain to find his person in the 
 crowd. 
 
 " Denbigh ! Denbigh ! I have known one or two of that 
 name," replied the gentleman. " In the army there are 
 several." 
 
 " Yes," said Emily, musing, " he is in the army ; " and, 
 looking up, she saw her companion reading her counte- 
 nance with an expression that brought the color to her 
 cheeks with a glow that was painful. Sir Herbert smiled, 
 and observed that the room was warm. Emily acquiesced 
 in the remark, for the first time in her life conscious of a 
 feeling she was ashamed to have scrutinized, and glad of 
 any excuse to hide her confusion. 
 
 " Grace Chatterton is really beautiful to-night," whis- 
 pered John Moseley to his sister Clara. " I have a mind to 
 ask her to dance." 
 
 " Do, John," replied his sister, looking with pleasure on 
 her beautiful cousin, who, observing the movements of John 
 as he drew near where she sat, moved her face on each 
 side rapidly, in search of some one who was apparently 
 not to be found. Her breathing became sensibly quicker, 
 
72 PR EC A UT1ON*. 
 
 and John was on the point of speaking to her as the dow- 
 ager stepped in between them. There is nothing so flat- 
 tering to the vanity of a man as the discovery of emotions 
 in a young woman excited by himself, and which the party 
 evidently wishes to conceal ; there is nothing so touching, 
 so sure to captivate ; or, if it seem to be affected, so sure to 
 disgust. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Moseley," cried the mother, "you shall not 
 ask Grace to dance ! She can refuse you nothing, and she 
 has been up the last two figures." 
 
 "Your wishes are irresistible, Lady Chatterton," said 
 John, coolly turning on his heel. On gaining the other 
 side of the room, he turned to reconnoitre the scene. The 
 dowager was fanning herself as violently as if she had been 
 up the last two figures, instead of her daughter; while 
 Grace sat with her eyes fastened on the floor, paler than 
 usual. "Grace," thought the young man, "would be very 
 handsome very sweet very very everything that is 
 agreeable, if if it were not for Mother Chatterton." He 
 then led out one of the prettiest girls in the room. 
 
 Colonel Egerton was peculiarly fitted to shine in a ball- 
 room. He danced gracefully and with spirit ; was perfectly 
 at home with all the usages of the best society, and was 
 never neglectful of any of those little courtesies which 
 have their charm for the moment ; and Jane Moseley, who 
 saw all those she loved around her, apparently as happy as 
 herself, found in her judgment or the convictions of her 
 principles no counterpoise against the weight of such at- 
 tractions, all centred as it were in one effort to please her- 
 self. His flattery was deep, for it was respectful ; his tastes 
 were her tastes his opinions her opinions. On the for- 
 mation of their acquaintance they differed on some trifling 
 point of poetical criticism, and for nearly a month the 
 colonel had maintained his opinion with a show of firmness ; 
 but opportunities not wanting for the discussion, he had 
 felt constrained to yield to her better judgment, her purer 
 taste. The conquest of Colonel Egerton was complete ; 
 and Jane, who saw in his attentions the submission of a 
 devoted heart, began to look forward to the moment with 
 trembling that was to remove the thin barrier that existed 
 between the adulation of the eyes and the most delicate 
 assiduity to please, and the open confidence of declared 
 love. Jane Moseley had a heart to love, and to love 
 strongly ; her danger existed in her imagination : it was 
 brilliant, unchastened by her judgment we had almost 
 
PRECA UTION-. 73 
 
 said unfettered by her principles. Principles such as are 
 found in every-day maxims and rules of conduct sufficient 
 to restrain her within the bounds of perfect decorum she 
 was furnished with in abundance ; but to that principle 
 which was to teach her submission in opposition to her 
 wishes to that principle that could alone afford her se- 
 curity against the treachery of her own passions she was 
 an utter stranger. 
 
 The family of Sir Edward were among the first to retire ; 
 and as the Chattertons had their own carriage, Mrs. Wil- 
 son and her charge returned alone in the coach of the for- 
 mer. Emily, who had been rather out of spirits the latter 
 part of the evening, broke the silence by suddenly observ- 
 ing 
 
 " Colonel Egerton is, or soon will be, a perfect hero ! " 
 Her aunt, somewhat surprised, both with the abruptness 
 and with the strength of the remark, inquired her mean- 
 ing. 
 
 " Oh, Jane will make him one, whether or not." 
 This was spoken with an air of vexation which she was 
 unused to, and Mrs. Wilson gravely corrected her for 
 speaking in a disrespectful manner of her sister one whom 
 neither her years nor situation entitled her in any measure 
 to advise or control. There was an impropriety in judg- 
 ing so near and dear a relation harshly, even in thought. 
 Emily pressed the hand of her aunt, and tremulously 
 acknowledged her error; but she addecfc that she felt a 
 momentary irritation at the idea of a man of Colonel Eger- 
 ton's character gaining the command over feelings such as 
 her sister possessed. Mrs. Wilson kissed the cheek of her 
 niece, while she inwardly acknowledged the probable truth 
 of the very remark she had thought it her duty to censure. 
 That the imagination of Jane would supply her lover with 
 those qualities she most honored herself, she believed was 
 taken as a matter of course ; and that when the veil she 
 had helped to throw before her own eyes was removed, she 
 would cease to respect, and of course cease to love him, 
 when too late to remedy the evil, she greatly feared. But 
 in the approaching fate of Jane she saw new cause to call 
 forth her own activity. 
 
 Emily Moseley had just completed her eighteenth year, 
 and was gifted by nature with a vivacity and ardency of 
 feeling that gave a heightened zest to the enjoyments of 
 that happy age. She was artless, but intelligent ; cheer- 
 ful, with a deep conviction of the necessity of piety ; and 
 
74 PR EC A UTION-. 
 
 uniform in her practice of all the important duties. The 
 unwearied exertions of her aunt, aided by her own quick- 
 ness of perception, had made her familiar with the attain- 
 ments suitable to her sex and years. For music she had 
 no taste ; and the time which would have been thrown 
 away in endeavoring to cultivate a talent she did not pos- 
 sess, was dedicated, under the discreet guidance of her aunt, 
 to works which had a tendency both to qualify her for the 
 duties of this life, and fit her for that which comes here- 
 after. It might be said Emily Moseley had never read a 
 book that contained a sentiment or inculcated an opinion 
 improper for her sex or dangerous to her morals ; and it 
 was not difficult for those who knew the fact, to fancy they 
 could perceive the consequences in her guileless counte- 
 nance and innocent deportment. Her looks, her actions, 
 her thoughts, wore as much of nature as the discipline of 
 her well-regula^d mind and softened manners could ad- 
 mit. In person jhe was of the middle size, exquisitely 
 formed, graceful and elastic in her step without, however, 
 the least departure from her natural movements ; her eye 
 was a dark blue, with an expression of joy and intelligence : 
 at times it seemed all soul, and again all heart ; her color 
 was rather high, but it varied with every emotion of her 
 bosom ; her feelings were strong, ardent, and devoted to 
 those she loved. Her preceptress had never found it nec- 
 essary to repeat an admonition of any kind, since her ar- 
 rival at years to Discriminate between the right and the 
 wrong. 
 
 " I wish," said Doctor Ives to his wife, the evening his 
 son had asked their permission to address Clara, " Francis 
 had chosen my little Emily." 
 
 "Clara is a good girl," replied his wife. "She is so 
 mild, so affectionate, that I doubt not she will make him 
 happy. Frank might have done worse at the Hall." 
 
 '* For himself he has done well, I hope," said the father; 
 " a young woman of Clara's heart may make any man 
 happy : but a union with purity, sense, principles, like 
 those of Emily, would be more it would be blissful." 
 
 Mrs. Ives smiled at her husband's animation. " You re- 
 mind me more of the romantic youth I once knew than of 
 the grave divine. There is but one man I know that I could 
 wish to give Emily to : it is Lumley. If Lumley sees her, 
 he will woo her ; and if he woos, he will win her." 
 
 " And Lumley I believe to be worthy of her," cried the 
 rector, now taking up a candle to retire for the night. 
 
PRECA UTION. 75 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE following day brought a large party of the military 
 elegants to the Hall, in acceptance of the baronet's hospitable 
 invitation, to dinner. Lady Moseley was delighted ; so long 
 as her husband's or her children's interest had demanded 
 a sacrifice of her love of society it had been made without 
 a sigh, almost without a thought. The ties of affinity in 
 her were sacred ; and to the happiness, the comfort of those 
 in which she felt an interest, there were few sacrifices of 
 her own propensities she would not cheerfully have made: 
 it was this very love of hei; offspring that made her anx- 
 ious to dispose of her daughters in w r edlock. Her own 
 marriage had been so happy, that she naturally concluded 
 it the state most likely to insure the happiness of her chil- 
 dren ; and with Lady Moseiey, as with thousands of others 
 who, averse, or unequal to the labors of investigation, 
 jump to conclusions over the long line of connecting rea- 
 sons, marriage was marriage, a husband was a husband. 
 It is true there were certain indispensables, without which 
 the formation of a connection was a thing she considered 
 not within the bounds of nature. There must be fitness in 
 fortune, in condition, in education, and manners ; there 
 must be no glaring evil, although she did not ask for posi- 
 tive good. A professor of religion herself, had any one 
 told her it was a duty of her calling to guard against a 
 connection with any but a Christian for her girls, she 
 would have wondered at the ignorance that would embar- 
 rass the marriage state with feelings exclusively belonging 
 to the individual. Had any one told her it were possible 
 to give her child to any but a gentleman, she would have 
 wondered at the want of feeling that could devote the 
 softness of Jane or Emily to the association with rude- 
 ness or vulgarity. It was the misfortune of Lady Moseley 
 to limit her views of marriage to the scene of this life, for- 
 getful that every union gives existence to a long line of 
 immortal beings, whose future welfare depends greatly on 
 the force of early examples, or the strength of early im- 
 pressions. 
 
 The necessity for restriction in their expenditures had 
 ceased, and the baronet and his wife greatly enjoyed the 
 first opportunity their secluded situation had given them, 
 to draw around their board their fellow-creatures of their 
 
76 PRECAUTION. 
 
 own stamp. In the former, it was pure philanthropy ; the 
 same feeling urged him to seek out and relieve distress in 
 humble life ; while in the latter it was love of station and 
 seemliness. It was becoming the owner of Moseley Hall, 
 and it was what the daughters of the Benfield family had 
 done since the Conquest. 
 
 "I am extremely sorry," said the good baronet at din- 
 ner, " Mr. Denbigh declined our invitation to-day ; I hope 
 he will yet ride over in the evening." 
 
 Looks of a singular import were exchanged between 
 Colonel Egerton and Sir Herbert Nicholson, at the men- 
 tion of Denbigh's name ; which, as the latter had just 
 asked the favor of taking wine with Mrs. Wilson, did not 
 escape her notice. Emily had innocently mentioned his 
 precipitate retreat the night before ; and he had, when re- 
 minded of his engagement to dine with them that very 
 day, and promised an introduction to Sir Herbert Nichol- 
 son by John, in her presence, suddenly excused himself and 
 withdrew. With an indefinite suspicion of something wrong, 
 she ventured, therefore, to address Sir Herbert Nicholson. 
 
 " Did you know Mr. Denbigh in Spain ?" 
 
 " I told Miss Emily Moseley, I believe, last evening, that 
 I knew some of the name," replied the gentleman eva- 
 sively ; then pausing a moment he added with great em- 
 phasis, " there is a circumstance connected with one of 
 that name, I shall ever remember." 
 
 " It was creditable, no doubt, Sir Herbert," cried young 
 Jarvis, sarcastically. The soldier affected not to hear the 
 question, and asked Jane to take wine with him. Lord 
 Chatterton, however, putting his knife and fork down 
 gravely, and with a glow of animation, observed with un- 
 usual spirit 
 
 " I have no doubt it was, sir." 
 
 Jarvis, in his turn, affected not to hear this speech, and 
 nothing further was said, as Sir Edward saw that the name 
 of Mr. Denbigh excited a sensation among his guests for 
 which he was unable to account, and which he soon for- 
 got himself. 
 
 After the company had retired, Lord Chatterton, how- 
 ever, related to the astonished and indignant family of the 
 baronet, the substance of the following scene, of which he 
 had been a witness that morning, while on a visit to Den- 
 bigh at the rectory. They had been sitting in the parlor 
 by themselves, over their breakfast, when a Captain Digby 
 was announced. 
 
PRECAUTION. ft 
 
 11 1 have the honor of waiting upon you, Mr. Denbigh," 
 said the soldier, with the stiff formality of a professed 
 duellist, " on behalf of Captain Jarvis, but will postpone 
 my business until you are at leisure," glancing his eye on 
 Chatterton. 
 
 " I know of no business with Captain Jarvis," said Den- 
 bigh, politely handing the stranger a chair, " to which 
 Lord Chatterton cannot be privy ; if he will excuse the in- 
 terruption." The nobleman bowed, and Captain Digby, a 
 little awed by the rank of Denbigh's friend, proceeded in 
 a more measured manner. 
 
 "Captain Jarvis has empowered me, sir, to make any 
 arrangement with yourself or friend, previously to your 
 meeting, which he hopes may be as soon as possible, if 
 convenient to yourself," replied the soldier, coolly. 
 
 Denbigh viewed him for a moment with astonishment, 
 in silence ; when recollecting himself, he said mildly, and 
 without the least agitation, " I cannot affect, sir, not to un- 
 derstand your meaning, but am at a loss to imagine what 
 act of mine can have made Mr. Jarvis wish to make such 
 an appeal." 
 
 " Surely Mr. Denbigh cannot think a man of Captain 
 Jarvis's spirit can quietly submit to the indignity put upon 
 him last evening, by your dancing with Miss Moseley, after 
 she had declined the honor to himself," said the captain, 
 affecting an incredulous smile. " My Lord Chatterton and 
 myself can easily settle the preliminaries, as Captain Jar- 
 vis is much disposed to consult your wishes, sir, in this 
 affair." 
 
 " If he consults my wishes," said Denbigh, smiling, " he 
 will think no more about it." 
 
 " At what time, sir, will it be convenient to give him the 
 meeting ? " Then, speaking with a kind of bravado gentle- 
 men of his cast are fond of assuming, " my friend would 
 not hurry any settlement of your affairs." 
 
 " I can never meet Captain Jarvis with hostile inten- 
 tions," replied Denbigh, calmly. 
 
 "Sir!" 
 
 " I decline the combat, sir," said Denbigh, with more 
 firmness. 
 
 " Your reasons, sir, if you please ?" asked Captain Dig- 
 by, compressing his lips, and drawing up with an air of 
 personal interest. 
 
 " Surely," cried Chatterton, who had with difficulty re 
 strained his feelings, " surely Mr. Denbigh could n^ver f 
 
^8 PRECA UTION. 
 
 far forget himself as cruelly to expose Miss Moseley by 
 accepting this invitation." 
 
 "Your reason, my lord," said Denbigh, with interest, 
 "would at all times have its weight ; but I wish not to 
 qualify an act of what I conceive to be principle by any 
 lesser consideration. I cannot meet Captain Jarvis, or any 
 other man, in private combat. There can exist no neces- 
 sity for an appeal to arms in any society where the laws 
 rule, and I am averse to bloodshed." 
 
 "Very extraordinary," muttered Captain Digby, some- 
 what at a loss how to act ; but the calm and collected man- 
 ner of Denbigh prevented a reply ; and after declining a 
 cup of tea, a liquor he never drank, he withdrew, saying 
 he would acquaint his friend with Mr. Denbigh's singular 
 notions. 
 
 Captain Digby had left Jarvis at an inn, about half a 
 mile from the rectory, for the convenience of receiving 
 early information of the result of his conference. The 
 young man had walked up and down the room during Dig- 
 by's absence, in a train of reflections entirely new to him. 
 He was the only son of his aged father and mother, the 
 protector of his sisters, and, he might say, the sole hope 
 of a rising family ; and then, possibly, Denbigh might not 
 have meant to offend him he might even have been en- 
 gaged before they came to the house ; or if not, it might 
 have been inadvertence on the part of Miss Moseley. 
 That Denbigh would offer some explanation he believed, 
 and he had fully made up his mind to accept it, let it be 
 what it might, as his fighting friend entered. 
 
 " Well," said Jarvis, in a tone that denoted anything but 
 a consciousness that all was well. 
 
 " He says he will not meet you," dryly exclaimed his 
 friend, throwing himself into a chair, and ordering a glass 
 of brandy and water. 
 
 "Not meet me !" exclaimed Jarvis, in surprise. "En- 
 gaged, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Engaged to his d d conscience." 
 
 "To his conscience! I do not know whether I rightly 
 understand you, Captain Digby," said Jarvis, catching his 
 breath, and raising his voice a very little. 
 
 " Then, Captain Jarvis," said his friend, tossing off his 
 brandy, and speaking with great deliberation, " he says 
 that nothing understand me nothing will ever make him 
 fight a duel." 
 
 " He will not ? " cried Jarvis, in a loud voice. 
 
PRECA UTION-. 79 
 
 " No, he will not," said Digby, handing his glass to the 
 waiter for a fresh supply. 
 
 " He shall, by 
 
 " I don't know how you will make him." 
 
 " Make him ! I'll I'll post him." 
 
 " Never do that," said the captain, turning to him as he 
 leaned his elbows on the table. " It only makes both par- 
 ties ridiculous. But I'll tell you what you may do. There's 
 a Lord Chatterton who takes the matter up with warmth. 
 If I were not afraid of his interests hurting my promo- 
 tion, I should have resented something that fell from him 
 myself. He will fight, I dare say, and I'll just return and 
 require an explanation of his words on your behalf." 
 
 " No, no," said Jarvis, rather hastily ; " he he is related 
 to the Moseleys, and I have views there it might injure." 
 
 "Did you think to forward your views by making the 
 young lady the subject of a duel ?" asked Captain Digby, 
 sarcastically, and eying his companion with contempt. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Jarvis ; " it would certainly hurt my 
 views." 
 
 " Here's to the health of his Majesty' gallant - - regi- 
 ment of foot ! " cried Captain Digby, in a tone of irony, 
 when three-quarters drunk, at the mess-table, that even- 
 ing, "and to its champion, Captain Henry Jarvis !" 
 
 One of the corps was present accidentally as a guest; and 
 the following week, the inhabitants of F saw the regi- 
 ment in their barracks marching to slow time after the 
 body of Horace Digby. 
 
 Lord Chatterton, in relating the part of the foregoing 
 circumstances which fell under his observation, did ample 
 justice to the conduct of Denbigh ; a degree of liberality 
 which did him no little credit, as he plainly saw in that 
 gentleman he had, or soon would have, a rival in the dear- 
 est wish of his heart ; and the smiling approbation with 
 which his cousin Emily rewarded him for his candor al- 
 most sickened him with apprehension. The ladies were 
 not slow in expressing their disgust at the conduct of Jar- 
 vis, or backward in their approval of Denbigh's forbear- 
 ance. Lady Moseley turned with horror from a picture 
 in which she could see nothing but murder and blood- 
 shed ; but both Mrs. Wilson and her niece secretly ap- 
 plauded a sacrifice of worldly feelings on the altar of duty; 
 the former admiring the consistent refusal of admitting 
 any collateral inducements in explanation of his decis- 
 ion ; the latter, while she saw the act in its true colors, 
 
So PRECA UTION. 
 
 could hardly help believing that a regard for her feelings 
 had, in a trifling degree, its influence in inducing him to 
 decline the meeting. Mrs. Wilson saw at once what a hold 
 such unusual conduct would! take on the feelings of her 
 niece, and inwardly determined to increase, if possible, 
 the watchfulness she had invariably observed on all he 
 said or did, as likely to elucidate his real character, well 
 knowing that the requisites to bring or to keep happiness 
 in the married state were numerous and indispensable ; and 
 that the display of a particular excellence, however good 
 in itself, was by no means conclusive as to character ; in 
 short, that we perhaps as often meet with a favorite prin- 
 ciple as with a besetting sin. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SIR EDWARD MOSELEY had some difficulty in restraining 
 the impetuosity of his son, who was disposed to resent this 
 impertinent interference of young Jarvis with the conduct 
 of his favorite sister ; indeed, the young man only yielded 
 to his profound respect to his father's commands, aided by 
 a strong representation on the part of his sister of the dis- 
 agreeable consequences of connecting her name with such 
 a quarrel. It was seldom the good baronet felt himself 
 called on to act as decidedly as on the present occasion. 
 He spoke to the merchant in warm, but gentlemanlike 
 terms, of the consequences which might have resulted to 
 his own child from the intemperate act of his son ; excul- 
 pated Emily entirely from censure, by explaining her en- 
 gagement to dance with Denbigh, previously to Captain 
 Jarvis's application ; and hinted the necessity, if the affair 
 was not amicably terminated, of protecting the peace of 
 mind of his daughters against any similar exposure, by de- 
 clining the acquaintance of a neighbor he respected as 
 much as Mr. Jarvis. 
 
 The merchant was a man of few words, but of great 
 promptitude. He had made his fortune, and more than 
 once saved it, by his decision ; and assuring the baronet he 
 should hear no more of it, he took his hat and hurried 
 home from the village where the conversation passed. On 
 arriving at his own house, he found the family collected in 
 the parlor for a morning ride, and throwing himself into a 
 chair, he broke out on the whole party with great violence. 
 
PRECA UTJOJV. 8l 
 
 "So, Mrs. Jarvis," he cried, "you would spoil a very tol- 
 erable book-keeper, by wishing to have a soldier in your 
 family ; and there stands the puppy who would have blown 
 out the brains of a deserving young man, if the good sense 
 of Mr. Denbigh had not denied him the opportunity." 
 
 " Mercy ! " cried the alarmed matron, on whom Newgate 
 (for her early life had been passed near its walls), with all 
 its horrors, floated, and a contemplation of its punishments 
 had been her juvenile lessons of morality " Harry ! Har- 
 ry ! would you commit murder?" 
 
 " Murder ! " echoed her son, looking askance, as if dodg- 
 ing the bailiffs. "No, mother; I wanted nothing but 
 what was fair. Mr. Denbigh would have had an equal 
 chance to blow out my brains ; I am sure everything 
 would have been fair." 
 
 " Equal chance ! " muttered his father, who had cooled 
 himself, in some measure, by an extra pinch of snuff ; " no, 
 sir ; you have no brains to lose. But I have promised Sir 
 Edward that you shall make proper apologies to himself, 
 to his daughter, and to Mr. Denbigh." This was rather 
 exceeding the truth, but the alderman prided himself on 
 performing rather more than he promised. 
 
 " Apology ! " exclaimed the captain. " Why, sir, the 
 apology is due to me. Ask Colonel Egerton if he ever 
 heard of apologies being made by the challenger." 
 
 "No, sure," said the mother, who, having made out the 
 truth of the matter, thought it was likely enough to be 
 creditable to her child ; " Colonel Egerton never heard of 
 such a thing. Did you, colonel ? " 
 
 "Why, madam," said the colonel, hesitatingly, and po- 
 litely handing the merchant his snuff-box, which, in his 
 agitation, had fallen on the floor, "circumstances some- 
 times justify a departure from ordinary measures. You 
 are certainly right, as a rule ; but not knowing the par- 
 ticulars in the present case, it is difficult for me to decide. 
 Miss Jarvis, the tilbury is ready." 
 
 The colonel bowed respectfully to the merchant, kissed 
 his hand to his wife, and led their daughter to his car- 
 riage. 
 
 " Do you make the apologies ?" asked Mr. Jarvis. as the 
 door closed. 
 
 " No, sir," replied the captain, sullenly. 
 
 "Then you must make your pay answer for the next six 
 
 months," cried the father, taking a signed draft on his 
 
 banker from his pocket, coolly tearing it in two 
 
 6 
 
S2 PRECA UTION. 
 
 carefully putting the name in his mouth, and chewing it 
 into a ball. 
 
 "Why, alderman," said his wife (a name she never used 
 unless she had something to gain from her spouse, who 
 loved to hear the appellation after he had relinquished the 
 office), " it appears to me that Harry has shown nothing but 
 a proper spirit. You are unkind indeed you are." 
 
 "A proper spirit? In what way ? Do you know any- 
 thing of the matter ? " 
 
 " It is a proper spirit for a soldier to fight, I suppose," 
 said the wife, a little at a loss to explain. 
 
 " Spirit or no spirit apology, or ten and sixpence." 
 
 " Harry," said his mother, holding up her finger in a 
 menacing attitude, as soon as her husband had left the 
 room (for he had last spoken with the door in his hand), 
 "if you do beg his pardon, you are no son of mine." 
 
 "No," cried Miss Sarah, "nor any brother of mine. It 
 would be insufferably mean." 
 
 " Who will pay my debts?" asked the son, looking up 
 at the ceiling. 
 
 " Why, I would, my child, if if I had not spent my 
 own allowance." 
 
 "I would," echoed the sister ; "but if we go to Bath, 
 you know, I shall want all my money." 
 
 "Who will pay my debts?" repeated the son. 
 
 " Apology, indeed ! Who is he, that you, a son of Alder- 
 man^of Mr. Jarvis, of the Deanery, B , Northamp- 
 tonshire, should beg his pardon a vagrant that nobody 
 knows? " 
 
 " Who will pay my debts ?" again inquired the captain, 
 drumming with his foot. 
 
 " Harry," exclaimed the mother, " do you love money 
 better than honor a soldier's honor?" 
 
 " No, mother ; but I like good eating and drinking. 
 Think, mother it's a cool five hundred ; and that's a 
 famous deal of money." 
 
 "Harry," cried the mother, in a rage, "you are not fit 
 for a soldier ! I wish I were in your place." 
 
 " I wish, with all my heart, you had been for an hour 
 this morning," thought the son. After arguing for some 
 time longer, they compromised, by agreeing to leave it to 
 the decision of Colonel Egerton, who, the mother did not 
 doubt, would applaud her maintaining the Jarvis dignity, 
 a family in which he took quite as much interest as he 
 felt for his own so he had told her fifty times. The cap- 
 
PR EC A UTIOtf. 8 3 
 
 tain, however, determined within himself to touch the five 
 hundred, let the colonel decide as he might ; but the col- 
 onel's decision obviated all difficulties. The question was 
 put to him by Mrs. Jarvis, on his return from the airing, 
 with no doubt the decision would be favorable to her 
 opinion. The colonel and herself, she said, never disa- 
 greed ; and the lady was right for wherever his interest 
 made it desirable to convert Mrs. Jarvis to his side of the 
 question, Egerton had a manner of doing it that never 
 failed to succeed. 
 
 "Why, madam," said he, with one of his most agreeable 
 smiles, " apologies are different things at different times. 
 You are certainly right in your sentiments, as relates to a 
 proper spirit in a soldier ; but no one can doubt the spirit 
 of the captain, after the stand he took in this affair. If 
 Mr. Denbigh would not meet him (a very extraordin- 
 ary measure, indeed, I confess), what can your son do 
 more ? He cannot make a man fight against his will, you 
 know." 
 
 " True, true," cried the matron, impatiently, " I do not 
 want him to fight ; Heaven forbid ! But why should he, 
 the challenger, beg pardon ? I am sure, to have the thing 
 regular, Mr. Denbigh is the one to ask forgiveness." 
 
 The colonel felt at a little loss how to reply, when Jar- 
 vis, in whom the thoughts of the five hundred pounds had 
 worked a revolution, exclaimed 
 
 " You know, mother, I accused him that is, I suspected 
 him of dancing with Miss Moseley against my right to her. 
 Now you find that it was all a mistake, and so I had better 
 act with dignity, and confess my error." 
 
 " Oh, by all means," cried the colonel, who saw the dan- 
 ger of an embarrassing rupture between the families other- 
 wise ; "delicacy to your sex particularly requires that, 
 ma'am, from your son ; " and he accidentally dropped a 
 letter as he spoke. 
 
 "From Sir Edgar, colonel ?" asked Mrs. Jarvis, as he 
 stooped to pick it up. 
 
 ." From Sir Edgar, ma'am, and he begs to be remem- 
 bered to yourself and all of your amiable family." 
 
 Mrs. Jarvis inclined her body, in what she intended for 
 a graceful bend, and sighed a casual observer might have 
 thought, with maternal anxiety for the reputation of her 
 child but it was conjugal regret that the political obsti- 
 nacy of the alderman had prevented his carrying up an 
 address, and thus becoming Sir Timothy. Sir Fdgar's 
 
84 PRECA UT10N. 
 
 heir prevailed, and the captain received permission to do 
 what he had done several hours before. 
 
 On leaving the room, after the first discussion, and 
 before the appeal, the captain had hastened to his father 
 with his concessions. The old gentleman knew too well 
 the influence of five hundred pounds to doubt the effect 
 in the present instance, and he had ordered his carriage 
 for the excursion. It came, and to the Hall they pro- 
 ceeded. The captain found his intended antagonist, and 
 in a rather uncouth manner he made the required conces- 
 sion. He was restored to his former favor no great dis- 
 tinction and his visits to the Hall were suffered, but with 
 a dislike Emily could never conquer, nor at all times con- 
 ceal. 
 
 Denbigh was occupied with a book, when Jarvis com- 
 menced his speech to the baronet and his daughter, and 
 was apparently too much engaged with its contents to 
 understand what was going on, as the captain blundered 
 through. It was necessary, the captain saw, by a glance 
 of his father's eyes, to say something to that gentleman, 
 who had delicately withdrawn to a distant window. His 
 speech was consequently made here too, and Mrs. Wilson 
 could not avoid stealing a look at them. Denbigh smiled, 
 and bowed in silence. It is enough, thought the widow ; 
 the offence was not against him, it was against his Maker ; 
 he should not arrogate to himself, in any manner, the right 
 to forgive, or to require apologies the whole is consistent. 
 The subject was never afterward alluded to : Denbigh ap- 
 peared to have forgotten it ; and Jane sighed gently, as 
 she devoutly hoped the colonel was not a duellist. 
 
 Several days passed before the Deanery ladies could 
 sufficiently forgive the indignity their family had sus- 
 tained, to resume the customary intercourse. Like all 
 other grievances, where the passions are chiefly interested, 
 it was forgotten in time, however, and things were put in 
 some measure on their former footing. The death of 
 Digby served to increase the horror of the Moseleys, arid 
 Jarvis himself felt rather uncomfortable, on more accounts 
 than one, at the fatal termination of the unpleasant busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Chatterton, who to his friends had not hesitated to avow 
 his attachment to his cousin, but who had never proposed 
 for her, as his present views and fortune were not, in his 
 estimation, sufficient for her proper support, had pushed 
 every interest he possessed, and left no steps unattempted 
 
PR EC A UT10N. 81,- 
 
 an honorable man could resort to, to effect his object. 
 The desire to provide for his sisters had been backed by 
 the ardor of a passion that had reached its crisis ; and the 
 young peer who could not, in the present state of things, 
 abandon the field to a rival so formidable as Denbigh, 
 even to further his views to preferment, was waiting in 
 anxious suspense the decision on his application. A letter 
 from his friend informed him his opponent was likely to 
 succeed ; that, in short, all hopes of success had left him. 
 Chatterton was in despair. On the following day, how- 
 ever, he received a second letter from the same friend, un- 
 expectedly announcing his appointment. After mention- 
 ing the fact, he went on to say " The cause of this sudden 
 revolution in your favor is unknown to me, and unless 
 your lordship has obtained interest I am ignorant of, it is 
 one of the most singular instances of ministerial caprice I 
 have ever known." Chatterton was as much at a loss as 
 his friend to understand the affair ; but it mattered not ; 
 he could now offer to Emily it was a patent office of 
 great value, and a few years would amply portion his sis- 
 ters. That very day, therefore, he proposed, and was re- 
 fused. < 
 
 Emily had a difficult task to avoid self-reproach, in reg- 
 ulating her deportment on this occasion. She was fond of 
 Chatterton as a relation as her brother's friend as the 
 brother of Grace, and even on his own account ; but it 
 was the fondness of a sister. His manner his words, 
 which, although never addressed to herself, were sotne- 
 times overheard unintentionally, and sometimes reached 
 her through her sisters, had left her in no doubt of his at- 
 tachment ; she was excessively grieved at the discovery, 
 and had innocently appealed to her aunt for directions 
 how to proceed. Of his intentions she had no doubt, but 
 at the same time he had not put her in a situation to dis- 
 pel his hopes ; as to encouragement, in the usual meaning 
 of the term, she gave none to him, nor to any one else. 
 There are no little attentions that lovers are fond of show- 
 ing to their mistresses, and which mistresses are fond of 
 receiving, that Emily ever permitted to any gentleman 
 no rides, no walks, no tete-a-tetes. Always natural and un- 
 affected, there was a simple dignity about her that forbade 
 the request, almost the thought, in the gentlemen of her 
 acquaintance : she had no amusements, no pleasures of any 
 kind in which her sisters were not her companions ; and if 
 anything was on the carpet that required an attendant, 
 
86 PR EC A UTIOJV. 
 
 John was ever ready. He was devoted to her ; the de- 
 cided preference she gave him over every other man upon 
 such occasions flattered his affection ; and he would, at 
 any time, leave even Grace Chatterton to attend his sister. 
 All this too was without affectation, and generally without 
 notice. Emily so looked the delicacy and reserve she 
 acted with so little ostentation that not even her own sex 
 had affixed to her conduct the epithet of squeamish ; it 
 was difficult, therefore, for her to do anything which would 
 show Lord Chatterton her disinclination to his suit, with- 
 out assuming a dislike she did not feel, or giving him slights 
 that neither good-breeding nor good nature could justify. 
 At one time, indeed, she had expressed a wish to return to 
 Clara ; but this Mrs. Wilson thought would only protract 
 the evil, and she was compelled to wait his own time. The 
 peer himself did not rejoice more in his ability to make 
 the offer, therefore, than Emily did to have it in her power 
 to decline it. Her rejection was firm and unqualified, but 
 uttered with a grace and a tenderness to his feelings, that 
 bound her lover tighter than ever in her chains, and he 
 resolved on immediate flight as his only recourse. 
 
 " I hope nothing unpleasant has occurred to Lord 
 Chatterton," said Denbigh, with great interest, as he 
 reached the spot where the young peer stood leaning 
 his head against a tree, on his way from ' the rectory to 
 the Hall. 
 
 Chatterton raised his face as he spoke : there were evi- 
 dent traces of tears on it, and Denbigh, greatly shocked, 
 was about to proceed as the other caught his arm. 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh," said the young man, in a voice almost 
 choked with emotion, " may you never know the pain I 
 have felt this morning. Emily Emily Moseiey is lost to 
 me forever." 
 
 For a moment the blood rushed to the face of Denbigh, 
 and his eyes flashed with a look that Chatterton could 
 not stand. He turned, as the voice of Denbigh, in those 
 remarkable tones which distinguished it from every other 
 voice he had ever heard, uttered 
 
 " Chatterton, my lord, we are friends, I hope I wish it, 
 from my heart.-' 
 
 " Go, Mr. Denbigh, go. You were going to Miss Mose- 
 iey do not let me detain you." 
 
 " I am going with jw/, Lord Chatterton, unless you for- 
 bid it," said Denbigh, with emphasis, slipping his arm 
 through that of the peer. 
 
PRECA UTJON'. 87 
 
 For two hours they walked together in the park ; and 
 when they appeared at dinner, Emily wondered why Mr. 
 Denbigh had taken a seat next to her mother, instead of 
 his usual place between herself and her aunt. In the even- 
 ing he announced his intention of leaving B for a 
 
 short time with Lord Chatterton. They were going to 
 London together ; but he hoped to return within ten days. 
 This sudden determination caused some surprise ; but as 
 the dowager supposed it was to secure the new situation, 
 and the remainder of their friends thought it might be 
 business, it was soon forgotten, though much regretted 
 for the time. The gentlemen left the Hall that night to 
 proceed to an inn, from which they could obtain a chaise 
 and horses; and the following morning, when the baronet's 
 family assembled around their social breakfast, they were 
 many miles on the road to tli metropolis. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LADY CHATTERTON, finding that little was to be expected 
 in her present situation, excepting what she looked for- 
 ward to from the varying admiration of John Moseley to 
 her youngest daughter, determined to accept an invitation 
 of some standing to a nobleman's seat about fifty miles 
 from the Hall, and, in order to keep things in their proper 
 places, to leave Grace with her friends, who had expressed 
 a wish to that effect. Accordingly, the day succeeding the 
 departure of her son, she proceeded on her expedition, ac- 
 companied by her willing assistant in the matrimonial 
 speculations. 
 
 Grace Chatterton was by nature retiring and delicate ; 
 but her feelings were acute, and on the subject of female 
 propriety sensitive to a degree that the great want of it in 
 a relation she loved as much as her mother had possibly 
 in some measure increased. Her affections were too single 
 in their objects to have left her long in doubt as to their 
 nature with respect to the baronet's son ; and it was one 
 of the most painful orders she had ever received, that 
 which compelled her to accept her cousin's invitation. 
 Her mother was peremptory, however, and Grace was 
 obliged to comply. Every delicate feeling she possessed 
 revolted at the step ; the visit itself was unwished- for on 
 her part ; but there did exist a reason which had recon- 
 
88 PR EC A UTJON. 
 
 ciled her to that the wedding of Clara. But now to re- 
 main, after all her family had gone, in the house where 
 resided the man who had as yet never solicited those affec- 
 tions she had been unable to withhold, it was humiliating 
 it was degrading her in her own esteem, and she could 
 scarcely endure it. 
 
 It is said that women are fertile in inventions to further 
 their schemes of personal gratification, vanity, or even 
 mischief. It may be it is true ; but the writer of these 
 pages is a man one who has seen much of the other sex, 
 and he is happy to have an opportunity of paying a trib- 
 ute to female purity and female truth. That there are 
 hearts so disinterested as to lose the considerations of self, 
 in advancing the happiness of those they love ; that there 
 are minds so pure as to recoil with disgust from the ad- 
 mission of deception, indelicacy, or management, he knows ; 
 for he has seen it from long and close examination. He 
 regrets that the very artlessness of those who are most 
 pure in the one sex, subjects them to the suspicions of the 
 grosser materials which compose the other. He believes 
 that innocency, singleness of heart, ardency of feeling, and 
 unalloyed, shrinking delicacy, sometimes exist in the fe- 
 male bosom, to an extent that but few men are happy 
 enough to discover, and that most men believe incompati- 
 ble with the frailties of human nature. 
 
 Grace Chatterton possessed no little of what may almost 
 be called this ethereal spirit, and a visit to Bolton parson- 
 age was immediately proposed by her to Emily. The lat- 
 ter, too innocent herself to suspect the motives of her 
 cousin, was happy to be allowed to devote a fortnight to 
 Clara, uninterrupted by the noisy round of visiting and 
 congratulations which had attended her first week ; and 
 Mrs. Wilson and the two girls left the Hall the same day 
 with the dowager Lady Chatterton. Francis and Clara 
 were happy to receive them, and they were immediately 
 domesticated in their new abode. Doctor Ives and his 
 wife had postponed an annual visit to a relation of the 
 former on account of the marriage of their son ; and they 
 now availed themselves of this visit to perform their own 
 
 engagement. B appeared in some measure deserted, 
 
 and Egerton had the field almost to himself. Summer had 
 arrived, and the country bloomed in all its luxuriance of 
 vegetation ; everything was propitious to the indulgence 
 of the softer passions ; and Lady Moseley, ever a strict ad- 
 herent to forms and decorum, admitted the intercourse be- 
 
PR EC A UTION. 89 
 
 tween Jane and lier admirer to be carried to as great 
 lengths as those forms would justify. Still the colonel 
 was not explicit ; and Jane, whose delicacy dreaded the 
 exposure of feelings that was involved in his declaration, 
 gave or sought no marked opportunities for the avowal of 
 his passion. Yet they were seldom separate, and both Sir 
 Edward and his wife looked forward to their future union 
 as a thing not to be doubted. Lady Moseley had given up 
 her youngest child so absolutely to the government of her 
 aunt, that she seldom thought of her future establishment. 
 She had that kind of reposing confidence in Mrs. Wilson's 
 proceedings that feeble minds ever bestow on those who 
 are much superior to them : and she even approved of a 
 system in many respects which she could not endeavor to 
 imitate. Her affection for Emily was not, however, less 
 than what she felt for her other children ; she was, in fact, 
 her favorite, and, had the discipline of Mrs. Wilson ad- 
 mitted of so weak an interference, might have been in- 
 jured as such. 
 
 John Moseley had been able to find out exactly the hour 
 they breakfasted at the Deanery, the length of time it took 
 Egerton's horses to go the distance between that house 
 and the Hall ; and on the sixth morning after the depart- 
 ure of his aunt, John's bays were in his phaeton, and, 
 allowing ten minutes for the mile and a half to the park- 
 gates, John had got happily off his own territories before 
 he met the tilbury travelling eastward. " I am not to 
 know which road the colonel may turn," thought John ; 
 and after a few friendly but rather hasty greetings, the 
 bays were again in full trot to the parsonage. 
 
 "John," said Emily, holding out her hand affectionately, 
 and smiling a little archly, as he approached the window 
 where she stood, " you should take a lesson in driving 
 from Frank ; you have turned more than one hair, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 " How is Clara ?" cried John, hastily taking the offered 
 hand, with a kiss, " ay, and aunt Wilson ?" 
 
 ' 'Both well, brother, and out walking this fine morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " How happens it you are not with them ? " inquired the 
 brother, throwing his eyes round the room. " Have they 
 left you alone ? " 
 
 "No, Grace has this moment left me." 
 
 " Well, Emily," said John, taking his seat very com- 
 posedly, but keeping his eyes on the door, " I have come 
 
90 PR EC A UTION-. 
 
 to dine with you. I thought I owed Clara a visit, and 
 have managed nicely to give the colonel the go-by." 
 
 " Clara will be happy to see you, dear John, and so will 
 aunt, and so am I "as she drew aside his fine hair with 
 her fingers to cool his forehead. 
 
 "And why not Grace, too ?" asked John, with a look of 
 a little alarm. 
 
 "And Grace, too, I fancy but here she is, to answer 
 for herself." Grace said little on her entrance, but her 
 eyes were brighter than usual, and she looked so contented 
 and happy, that Emily observed to her, in an affectionate 
 manner 
 
 " I knew the eau-de-Cologne would do your head good." 
 
 "Is Miss Chatterton unwell?" asked John with a look 
 of interest. 
 
 "A slight headache," said Grace, faintly, "but I feel 
 much better." 
 
 " Want of air and exercise ; my horses are at the door ; 
 the phaeton will hold three easily ; run, sister, for your 
 hat," almost pushing Emily out of the room as he spoke. 
 In a few minutes the horses might have been suffering for 
 air, but surely not for exercise. 
 
 "I wish," cried John, with impatience, when at the dis- 
 tance of a couple of miles from the parsonage, " that gen- 
 tleman had driven his gig out of the road." 
 
 There was a small group on one side of the road, con- 
 sisting of a man, a woman, and several children. The 
 owner of the gig had alighted, and was in the act of 
 speaking to them, as the phaeton approached at a great 
 rate. 
 
 "John," cried Emily, in terror, "you never can pass 
 you will upset us." 
 
 " There is no danger, dear Grace," said the brother, en- 
 deavoring to check his horses ; he succeeded in part, but 
 not so as to prevent his passing at a spot where the road 
 was very narrow ; a wheel hit violently against a stone, 
 and some of his works gave way. The gentleman immedi- 
 ately hastened to his assistance it was Denbigh. 
 
 "Miss Mosely!" cried he, in a voice of the tenderest 
 interest, "you are not hurt in the least, I hope ? " 
 
 " No," said Emily, recovering her breath, " only fright- 
 ened ;" and taking his hand, she sprang from the carriage. 
 
 Miss Chatterton found courage to wait quietly for the 
 care of John. His "dear Grace " had thrilled on every 
 nerve, and she afterward often laughed at Emily for her 
 
PR EC A UTION. gi 
 
 terror when there was so little danger. The horses tvere 
 not in -the least frightened, and after a little mending, John 
 declared all was safe. To ask Emily to enter the carriage 
 again was to exact no little sacrifice of her feelings to her 
 reason ; and she stood in a suspense that too plainly 
 showed that the terror she had been in had not left her. 
 
 " If," said Denbigh, modestly, " if Mr. Moseley will take 
 the ladies in my gig, I will drive the phaeton to the Hall, 
 as it is rather unsafe for so heavy a load." 
 
 " No, no, Denbigh," said John, coolly, " you are not used 
 to such mettled nags as mine it would be indiscreet for 
 you to drive them ; if, however, you will be good enough 
 to take Emily into your gig Grace Chatterton, I am sure, 
 is not afraid to trust my driving, and we might all get back 
 as well as ever." 
 
 Grace gave her hand almost unconsciously to John, and 
 he handed her into the phaeton, as Denbigh stood willing 
 to execute his part of the arrangement, but too diffident 
 to speak. It was not a moment for affectation, if Emily 
 had been capable of it, and blushing with the novelty of 
 her situation, she took her place in the gig. Denbigh 
 stopped and turned his eyes on the little group with which 
 he had been talking, and at that moment they caught the 
 attention of John also. The latter inquired after their 
 situation. The tale was a piteous one, the distress evi- 
 dently real. The husband had been gardener to a gentle- 
 man in a neighboring county, and he had been lately 
 discharged, to make way, in the difficulty of the times, for 
 a relation of the steward, who was in want of the place. 
 Suddenly thrown on the world, with a wife and four chil- 
 dren, with but the wages of a week for his and their sup- 
 port, they had travelled thus far on the way to a neighbor- 
 ing parish, where he said he had a right to, and must seek 
 public assistance. The children were crying for hunger, 
 and the mother, who was a nurse, had been unable to walk 
 further than where she sat, but had sunk on the ground 
 overcome with fatigue, and weak from the want of nour- 
 ishment. Neither Emily nor Grace could refrain from 
 tears at the recital of these heavy woes ; the want of sus- 
 tenance was something so shocking in itself, and brought, 
 as it were, immediately before their eyes, the appeal was 
 irresistible. John forgot his bays forgot even Grace, as 
 he listened to the affecting story related by the woman, 
 who was much revived by some nutriment Denbigh had 
 obtained from a cottage near them, and to which they 
 
92 PRECA UT7ON. 
 
 were about to proceed by his directions as Moseley inter- 
 rupted them. His hand shook, his eyes glistened as he 
 took his purse from his pocket, and gave several guineas 
 from it to the mendicant. Grace thought John had never 
 appeared so handsome as the moment he handed the mon- 
 ey to the gardener ; his face glowed with unusual excite- 
 ment, and his symmetry had lost the only charm he wanted 
 in common, softness. Denbigh, after waiting patiently 
 until Moseley had bestowed his alms, gravely repeated his 
 directions for their proceeding to the cottage, when the 
 carriages moved on. 
 
 Emily revolved in her mind, during their short ride, the 
 horrid distress she had witnessed. It had taken a strong 
 hold on her feelings. Like her brother, she was warm- 
 hearted and compassionate, if we may use the term, to 
 excess ; and had she been prepared with the means, the 
 gardener would have reaped a double harvest of donations- 
 It struck her, at the moment, unpleasantly, that Denbigh 
 had been so backward in his liberality. The man had 
 rather sullenly displayed half a crown as his gift, in con- 
 trast with the golden shower of John's generosity. It had 
 been even somewhat offensive in its exhibition, and urged 
 her brother to a more hasty departure than, under other 
 circumstances, he would just at the moment have felt dis- 
 posed to make. Denbigh, however, had taken no notice 
 of the indignity, and continued his directions in the same 
 mild and benevolent manner he had used during the whole 
 interview. "Half a crown was but little," thought Emily, 
 " for a family that was starving ;" and, unwilling to judge 
 harshly of one she had begun to value so highly, she came 
 to the painful conclusion that her companion was not as 
 rich as he deserved to be. Emily had not yet to learn that 
 charity was in proportion to the means of the donor, and 
 a gentle wish insensibly stole over her that Denbigh might 
 in some way become more richly endowed with the good 
 things of this world. Until this moment her thoughts had 
 never turned to his temporal condition. She knew he was 
 an officer in the army, but of what rank, or even of what 
 regiment, she was ignorant. He had frequently touched 
 in his conversations on the customs of the different coun- 
 tries he had seen. He had served in Italy, in the north of 
 Europe, in the West Indies, in Spain. Of the manners of 
 the people, of their characters, he not unfrequently spoke, 
 and with a degree of intelligence, a liberality, a justness 
 of discrimination, that had charmed his auditors ; but on 
 
PRECA UTION-. 93 
 
 the point of personal service he had maintained a silence 
 that was inflexible, and not a little surprising more par- 
 ticularly of that part of his history which related to the 
 latter country ; from all which she was rather inclined to 
 think his military rank was not as high as she thought he 
 merited, and that possibly he felt an awkwardness of put- 
 ting it in contrast with the more elevated station of Col- 
 onel Egerton. The same idea had struck the whole family, 
 and prevented any inquiries which might be painful. He 
 was so connected with the mournful event of his father's 
 death, that no questions could be put with propriety to 
 the doctor's family ; and if Francis had been more com- 
 municative to Clara, she was too good a wife to mention 
 it, and her own family was possessed of too just a sense 
 of propriety to touch upon points that might bring her 
 conjugal fidelity in question. 
 
 Though Denbigh appeared a little abstracted during the 
 ride, his questions concerning Sir Edward and her friends 
 were kind and affectionate. As they approached the 
 house, he suffered his horse to walk, and, after some hesi- 
 tation, he took a letter from his pocket, and handing it to 
 her, said 
 
 " I hope Miss Moseley will not think me impertinent in 
 becoming the bearer of a letter from her cousin, Lord 
 Chatterton. He requested it so earnestly, that I could 
 not refuse taking what I am sensible is a great liberty ; for 
 it would be deception did I affect to be ignorant of his ad- 
 miration, or of his generous treatment of a passion she 
 cannot return. Chatterton " and he smiled mournfully 
 " is yet too true to cease his commendations." 
 
 Emily blushed painfully, but she took the letter in si- 
 lence ; and as Denbigh pursued the topic no further, the 
 little distance they had to go was ridden in silence. On 
 entering the gates, however, he said, inquiringly, and with 
 much interest 
 
 " I sincerely hope I have not given offence to your 
 delicacy, Miss Moseley. Lord Chatterton has made me an 
 unwilling confidant. I need not say the secret is sacred, 
 on more accounts than one." 
 
 " Surely not, Mr. Denbigh," replied Emily, in a low 
 tone ; and the gig stopping, she hastened to accept the 
 assistance of her brother to alight. 
 
 "Well, sister," cried John, laughing, "Denbigh is a dis- 
 ciple to Frank's system of horseflesh. Hairs smooth 
 enough here, I see. Grace and I thought you would never 
 
94 PRECA UTION-. 
 
 get home." Now John fibbed a little, for neither Grace 
 nor he had thought in the least about them,' or anything 
 else but each other, from the moment they separated until 
 the gig arrived. 
 
 Emily made no reply to this speech ; and, as the gentle- 
 men were engaged in giving directions concerning their 
 horses, she seized an opportunity to read Chatterton's 
 letter : 
 
 " I avail myself of the return of my friend Mr. Denbigh 
 to that happy family from which reason requires my self- 
 banishment, to assure my amiable cousin of my continued 
 respect for her character, and to convince her of my grati- 
 tude for the tenderness she has manifested to feelings she 
 cannot return. I may even venture to tell her what few 
 women would be pleased to hear, but what I know Emily 
 Moseley too well to doubt, for a moment, will give her un- 
 alloyed pleasure that owing to the kind, the benevolent, 
 the brotherly attentions of my true friend, Mr. Denbigh, I 
 have already gained a peace of mind and resignation I once 
 thought were lost to me forever. Ah ! Emily, my beloved 
 cousin, in Denbigh you will find, I doubt not, a mind, 
 principles, congenial to your own. It is impossible that 
 he could see you without wishing to possess such a treas- 
 ure ; and, if I have a wish that is now uppermost in my 
 heart, it is, that you may learn to esteem each other as you 
 ought when, I doubt not, you will become as happy as 
 you both deserve to be. What greater earthly blessings 
 can I implore upon you ? CHATTERTON." 
 
 Emily, while reading this epistle, felt a confusion but 
 little inferior to that which would have oppressed her had 
 Denbigh himself been at her feet, soliciting that love Chat- 
 terton thought him so worthy of possessing ; and when 
 they met, she could hardly look in the face a man who, it 
 would seem, had been so openly selected by another as the 
 fittest to be her partner for life. The unaltered manner 
 of Denbigh himself, however, soon convinced her that he 
 was entirely ignorant of the contents of the note, and it 
 greatly relieved her from the awkwardness his presence at 
 first occasioned. 
 
 Francis soon returned, accompanied by his wife and 
 aunt, and was overjoyed to find the guest who had so un- 
 expectedly arrived. His parents had not yet returned 
 from their visit, and Denbigh, of course, would remain at 
 
PRECA UTION. 95 
 
 his present quarters. John promised to continue with 
 them for a couple of days ; and everything was soon set- 
 tled to the perfect satisfaction of the whole party. Mrs. 
 Wilson knew the great danger of suffering young people 
 to be inmates of the same house too well, wantonly to 
 incur the penalties, but her visit had nearly expired, and 
 it might give her a better opportunity of judging Den- 
 bigh's character ; and Grace Chatterton, though too deli- 
 cate to follow herself, was well contented to be followed, 
 especially when John Moseley was the pursuer. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "I AM sorry, aunt, Mr. Denbigh is not rich," said Emily 
 to Mrs. Wilson, after they had retired in the evening, al- 
 most unconscious of what she uttered. The latter looked 
 at her niece in surprise, at a remark so abrupt, and one 
 so very different from the ordinary train of Emily's reflec- 
 tions, as she required an explanation. Emily, slightly 
 coloring at the channel her thoughts had insensibly strayed 
 into, gave her aunt an account of their adventure in the 
 course of the morning's drive, and touched lightly on the 
 difference in the amount of the alms of her brother and 
 those of Mr. Denbigh. 
 
 "The bestowal of money is not always an act of charity," 
 observed Mrs. Wilson, gravely, and the subject was dropped; 
 though neither ceased to dwell on it in her thoughts, until 
 sleep closed the eyes of both. 
 
 The following day Mrs. Wilson invited Grace and Emily 
 to accompany her in a walk, the gentlemen having pre- 
 ceded them in pursuit of their different avocations. Francis 
 had his regular visits of spiritual consolation ; John had 
 gone to the Hall for his pointers and fowling-piece, the 
 season for woodcock having arrived ; and Denbigh had 
 proceeded no one knew whither. On gaining the high- 
 road, Mrs. Wilson desired her companions to lead the \vay 
 to the cottage, where the family of the mendicant gardener 
 had been lodged, and thither they soon arrived. On 
 knocking at the door, they were immediately admitted to 
 an outer room, in which they found the wife of the laborer 
 who inhabited the building, engaged in her customary 
 morning employments. They explained the motives of 
 the visit, and were told that the family they sought were 
 
96 PR EC A UTlOiV. 
 
 in an adjoining room, but she rather thought at that mo 
 ment engaged with a clergyman who had called a quarter 
 of an hour before. " I expect, my lady, it's the new rector, 
 who everybody says is so good to the poor and needy ; but 
 I have not found time yet to go to church to hear his rev- 
 erence preach, ma'am, "courtesying and handing the freshly- 
 dusted chairs to her unexpected visitors. The ladies seated 
 themselves, too delicate to interrupt Francis in his sacred 
 duties, and were silently waiting his appearance, when a 
 voice was distinctly heard through the thin partition, the 
 first note of which undeceived them as to the character of 
 the gardener's visitor. 
 
 "It appears, then, Davis, by your own confession," said 
 Denbigh, mildly, but in a tone of reproof, "that your fre- 
 quent acts of intemperance have at least given ground for 
 the steward's procuring your discharge, if they have not 
 justified him in doing that which his duty to your common 
 employment required." 
 
 " It is hard, sir," replied the man, sullenly, " to be thrown 
 on the world with a family like mine, to make way for a 
 younger man with but one child." 
 
 "It maybe unfortunate for your wife and children," 
 said Denbigh, "but just, as respects yourself. I have al- 
 ready convinced you that my interference or reproof is 
 not an empty one ; carry the letter to the person to whom 
 it is directed, and I pledge you, you shall have a new trial, 
 and should you conduct yourself soberly and with pro- 
 priety, continued and ample support ; the second letter will 
 gain your children immediate admission to the school I 
 mentioned ; and I now leave you, with an earnest injunc- 
 tion to remember that habits of intemperance not only 
 disqualify you to support those who have such great claims 
 on your protection, but inevitably lead to a loss of those 
 powers which are necessary to insure your own eternal 
 welfare." 
 
 " May heaven bless your honor," cried the woman, with 
 fervor, and evidently in tears, " both for what you have 
 said, and what you have done. Thomas only wants to be 
 taken from temptation to become a sober man again an 
 honest one he has ever been, I am sure." 
 
 " I have selected a place for him," replied Denbigh, 
 "where there is no exposure through improper companions, 
 and everything now depends on himself, under Provi- 
 dence." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had risen from her chair on the first intima< 
 
PR EC A mON. 97 
 
 tion given by Denbigh of his intention to go, but had 
 paused at the door to listen to this last speech ; when, 
 beckoning her companions, she hastily withdrew, having 
 first made a small present to the woman of the cottage, 
 and requested her not to mention their having called. 
 
 " What becomes now of the comparative charity of your 
 brother and Mr. Denbigh, Emily?." asked Mrs. Wilson, as 
 they gained the road on their return homewards. Emily 
 was not accustomed to hear any act of John lightly spoken 
 of without at least manifesting some emotion which be- 
 trayed her sisterly regard ; but on the present occasion she 
 chose to be silent ; while Grace, after waiting in expecta- 
 tion that her cousin would speak, ventured to say timidly 
 
 " I am sure, dear madam, Mr. Moseley was very liberal, 
 and the tears were in his eyes while he gave the money. I 
 was looking directly at them the whole time." 
 
 "John is compassionate by nature," continued Mrs. Wilson, 
 with an almost imperceptible smile. " I have no doubt his 
 sympathies were warmly enlisted in behalf of this family ; 
 and possessing much, he gave liberally. I have no doubt 
 he would have undergone personal privation to have re- 
 lieved their distress, and endured both pain and labor with 
 such an excitement before him. But what is all that to 
 the charity of Mr. Denbigh ? " 
 
 Grace was unused to contend, and, least of all, with Mrs. 
 Wilson ; but, unwilling to abandon John to such censure, 
 with increased animation, she said 
 
 " If bestowing freely, and feeling for the distress you re- 
 lieve, be not commendable, madam, I am sure I am ignorant 
 what is." 
 
 "That compassion for the woes of others is beautiful in 
 itself, and the want of it an invariable evidence of corrup- 
 tion from too much, and an ill-governed intercourse with 
 the world, I am willing to acknowledge, my dear Grace," 
 said Mrs. Wilson, kindly ; " but the relief of misery, where 
 the heart has not undergone this hardening ordeal, is only 
 a relief to our own feelings ; this is compassion ; but Chris- 
 tian charity is a higher order of duty ; it enters into every 
 sensation of the heart ; disposes us to judge as well as to 
 act favorably to our fellow-creatures ; is deeply seated in 
 the sense of our own unworthiness ; keeps a single eye, in 
 its dispensations of temporal benefits, to the everlasting 
 happiness of the objects of its bounty ; is consistent, well- 
 regulated ; in short," and Mrs. Wilson's pale cheek glowed 
 with an unusual richness of color "it is an humble at- 
 
98 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 tempt to copy after the heavenly example of our Redeem- 
 er, in sacrificing ourselves to the welfare of others, and 
 does and must proceed from a love of his person, and an 
 obedience to his mandates." 
 
 "And Mr. Denbigh, aunt," exclaimed Emily, the blood 
 mantling to her cheek with a sympathetic glow, while she 
 lost all consideration for John in the strength of her feel- 
 ings, "his charity you think to be of this description ? " 
 
 " So far, my child, as we can understand motives from 
 the nature of the conduct, such appears to have been the 
 charity of Mr. Denbigh." 
 
 Grace was silenced, if not convinced ; and the ladies 
 continued their walk, lost in their own reflections, until 
 they reached a bend in the road which hid the cottage from 
 view. Emily involuntarily turned her head as they arrived 
 at the spot, and saw that Denbigh had approached within 
 a few paces of them. On joining them, he commenced his 
 complimentary address in such a way as convinced them 
 the cottager had been true to the injunction given by Mrs. 
 "Wilson. No mention was made of the gardener, and Den- 
 bigh began a lively description of some foreign scenery, of 
 which their present situation reminded him. The dis- 
 course was maintained with great interest, by himself and 
 Mrs. Wilson, for the remainder of their walk. 
 
 It was yet early when they reached the parsonage, where 
 they found John, who had driven to the Hall to breakfast, 
 and who, instead of pursuing his favorite amusement of 
 shooting, laid down his gun as they entered, observing: 
 4< It is rather soon yet for the woodcocks, and I believe I 
 will listen to your entertaining conversation, ladies, for the 
 rest of the morning." He threw himself upon a sofa at 
 no great distance from Grace, and in such a position as 
 enabled him, without rudeness, to study the features of 
 her lovely face, while Denbigh read aloud to the ladies 
 Campbell's beautiful description of wedded love, in Ger- 
 trude of Wyoming. 
 
 There was a chastened correctness in the ordinary man- 
 ner of Denbigh which wore the appearance of the in- 
 fluence of his reason, and a subjection of the passions, 
 that, if anything, gave him less interest with Emily than 
 had it been marked by an evidence of stronger feeling. 
 But on the present occasion this objection was removed ; 
 his reading was impressive ; he dwelt on those passages 
 which most pleased him with a warmth of eulogium fully 
 equal to her own undisguised sensations. In the houl 
 
PR EC A UTION~. 
 
 99 
 
 occupied in the reading this exquisite little poem, and in 
 commenting on its merits and sentiments, Denbigh gained 
 more on her imagination than in all their former inter 
 course. His ideas were as pure, as chastened, and almost 
 as vivid as those of the poet ; and Emily listened to his 
 periods with intense attention, as they flowed from him in 
 language as glowing as his ideas. The poem had been 
 first read to her by her brother, and she was surprised to 
 discover how she had overlooked its beauties on that 
 occasion. Even John acknowledged that it certainly ap- 
 peared a different thing now from what lie had then 
 thought it ; but Emily had taxed his declamatory power 
 in the height of the pleasant season, and, somehow or 
 other, John now imagined that Gertrude was just such a 
 delicate, feminine, warm-hearted, domestic girl as Grace 
 Chatterton. As Denbigh closed the book, and entered 
 into a general conversation with Clara and her sister, John 
 followed Grace to a window, and speaking in atone of un- 
 usual softness for him, he said 
 
 "Do you know, Miss Chatterton, I have accepted your 
 brother's invitation to go into Suffolk this summer, and 
 that you are to be plagued with me and my pointers 
 again ? " 
 
 " Plagued, Mr. Moseley ! " said Grace, in a voice even 
 softer than his own. "I am sure I am sure, we none of 
 us think you or your dogs in the least a plague." 
 
 " Ah ! Grace," and John was about to become what he 
 had never been before sentimental when he saw the 
 carriage of Chatterton, containing the dowager and Cathe- 
 rine, entering the parsonage gates. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " thought John, " there comes Mother Chatter- 
 ton." "Ah! Grace," said John, " there are your mother 
 and sister returned already." 
 
 "Already ! " said the young lady, and, for the first time 
 hi her life, she felt rather unlike a dutiful child. Five 
 minutes could have made no great difference to her mother, 
 and she would greatly have liked to hear what John Mose- 
 ley meant to have said ; for the alteration in his manner 
 convinced her that his first "ah ! Grace " was to have been 
 continued in a somewhat different language from that in 
 which the second "ah ! Grace ! " was ended. 
 
 Young Moseley and her daughter, standing together at 
 the open window, caught the attention of Lady Chatterton 
 the moment she got a view of the house, and she entered 
 with a good humor she had not felt since the disappoint' 
 
loo PRECA UTION. 
 
 nient in her late expedition in behalf of Catherine ; foi 
 the gentleman she had had in view in this excursion had 
 been taken up by another rover, acting on her own ac- 
 count, and backed by a little more wit and a good deal 
 more money than what Kate could be fairly thought to 
 possess. Nothing further in that quarter offering in the 
 way of her occupation, she turned her horses' heads toward 
 London, that great theatre on which there never was a loss 
 for actors. The salutations had hardly passed before, 
 turning to John, she exclaimed, with what she intended 
 for a most motherly smile, " What ! not shooting this fine 
 day, Mr. Moseley ? I thought you never missed a day in 
 the season." 
 
 "It is rather early yet, my lady," said John, coolly, a 
 little alarmed by the expression of her countenance. 
 
 " Oh ! " continued the dowager, in the same strain, " I 
 see how it is ; the ladies have too many attractions for so 
 gallant a young man as yourself." Now as Grace, her 
 own daughter, was the only lady of the party who could 
 reasonably be supposed to have much influence over John's 
 movements a young gentleman seldom caring as much for 
 his own as for other people's sisters, this may be fairly set 
 down as a pretty broad hint of the opinion the dowager 
 entertained of the real state of things ; and John saw it and 
 Grace saw it. The former coolly replied, " Why, upon 
 the whole, if you will excuse the neglect, I will try a shot 
 this fine day." In five minutes, Carlo and Rover were both 
 delighted. Grace kept her place at the window, from a 
 feeling she could not define, and of which perhaps she 
 was unconscious, until the gate closed, and the shrubbery 
 hid the sportsman from her sight, and then she withdrew 
 to her room to weep. 
 
 Had Grace Chatterton been a particle less delicate less 
 retiring blessed with a managing mother, as she was, 
 John Moseley would not have thought another moment 
 about her. But, on every occasion when the dowager 
 made any of her open attacks, Grace discovered so much 
 distress, so much unwillingness to second them, that a 
 suspicion of a confederacy never entered his brain. It is 
 not to be supposed that Lady Chatterton's manoeuvres 
 were limited to the direct and palpable schemes we have 
 mentioned ; no these were the effervescence, the exuber- 
 ance of her zeal ; but as is generally the case, they suf- 
 ficiently proved the groundwork of all her other machina- 
 tions ; none of the little artifices of such as placing of 
 
PRECA UTION. 101 
 
 leaving alone of showing similarity of tastes of compli- 
 ments to the gentlemen, were neglected. This latter busi- 
 ness she had contrived to get Catherine to take off her 
 hands ; but Grace could never pay a compliment in her 
 life, unless changing of color, trembling, undulations of 
 the bosom, and such natural movements can be so called ; 
 but she loved dearly to receive them from John Moseley. 
 
 " Well, my child," said the mother, as she seated herself 
 by the side of her daughter, who hastily endeavored to 
 conceal her tears, " when are we to have another wedding ? 
 I trust everything is settled between you and Mr. Moseley, 
 by this time." 
 
 " Mother ? mother ! " said Grace, nearly gasping for 
 breath, " mother, you will break my heart, indeed you will." 
 She hid her face in the clothes of the bed by which she 
 sat, and wept with a feeling of despair. 
 
 " Tut, my dear," replied the dowager, not noticing her 
 anguish, or mistaking it for a girlish shame, " you young 
 people are fools in these matters, but Sir Edward and my- 
 self will arrange everything as it should be." 
 
 The daughter now not only looked up, but sprang from 
 her seat, her hands clasped together, her eyes fixed in 
 horror, her cheek pale as death ; but the mother had re- 
 tired, and Grace sank back into her chair with a sensation 
 of disgrace, of despair, which could not have been sur- 
 passed, had she really merited the obloquy and shame 
 which she thought were about to be heaped upon her. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE succeeding morning, the whole party, with the ex- 
 ception of Denbigh, returned to the Hall. Nothing had 
 occurred out of the ordinary course of the colonel's assi- 
 duities ; and Jane, whose sense of propriety forbade the 
 indulgence of premeditated tete-a-tetes y and such little ac- 
 companiments of every-day attachments, was rejoiced tc. 
 see a sister she loved, and an aunt she respected, onc& 
 more in the bosom of her family. 
 
 The dowager impatiently waited an opportunity to effect, 
 what she intended for a master-stroke of policy in the dis- 
 posal of Grace. Like all other managers, she thought nc 
 one equal to herself in devising ways and means, and was 
 unwilling to leave anything to nature. Grace had invari- 
 
102 PRECA UT1ON. 
 
 ably thwarted all her schemes by her obstinacy ; and ai 
 she thought young Moseley really attached to her, she de- 
 termined by a bold stroke to remove the impediments of 
 false shame, and the dread of repulse, which she believed 
 alone kept the youth from an avowal of his wishes, and get 
 rid at once of a plague that had annoyed her not a little 
 her daughter's delicacy. 
 
 Sir Edward spent an hour every morning in his library, 
 overlooking his accounts, and in other necessary employ- 
 ments of a similar nature, and it was here she determined 
 to have the conference. 
 
 " My Lady Chatterton, you do me honor," said the 
 baronet, handing her a chair on her entrance. 
 
 " Upon my word, cousin," cried the dowager, " you have 
 a very convenient apartment here," looking around her in 
 affected admiration of all she saw. 
 
 The baronet replied, and a short discourse on the ar- 
 rangements of the whole house insensibly led to some 
 remarks on the taste of his mother, the honorable Lady 
 Moseley (a Chatterton), until, having warmed the feelings 
 of the old gentleman by some well-timed compliments of 
 that nature, she ventured on the principal object of her 
 visit. 
 
 " I am happy to find, Sir Edward, you are so well pleased 
 with the family as to wish to make another selection from 
 it. I sincerely hope it may prove as judicious as the for- 
 mer one." 
 
 Sir Edward was a little at a loss to understand her mean- 
 ing, although he thought it might allude to his son, who he 
 had some time suspected had views on Grace Chatterton ; 
 and willing to know the truth, and rather pleased to find 
 John had selected a young woman he loved in his heart, 
 he observed 
 
 " I am not sure I rightly understand your ladyship, 
 though I hope I do." 
 
 " No !" cried the dowager, in well-counterfeited affecta- 
 tion of surprise. " Perhaps, after all, maternal anxiety 
 has deceived me, then. Mr. Moseley could hardly have 
 ventured to proceed without your approbation." 
 
 " I have ever declined influencing any of my children, 
 Lady Chatterton," said the baronet, " and John is not 
 ignorant of my sentiments. I sincerely hope, however, 
 you allude to an attachment to Grace ?" 
 
 " I did, certainly, Sir Edward," said the lady, hesitat- 
 ingly. " J may be deceived ; but you must understand the 
 
PRECAUTION 
 
 103 
 
 feelings of a mother, and a young woman ought not to be 
 trifled with." 
 
 " My son is incapable of trifling, I hope," cried Sir 
 Edward, with animation, " and, least of all, with Grace 
 Chatterton. No ; you are quite right. If he has made his 
 choice, he should not be ashamed to avow it." 
 
 " I would not wish, on any account, to hurry matters," 
 said the dowager ; " but the report which is abroad will 
 prevent other young men from putting in their claims, Sir 
 Edward " (sighing). " I have a mother's feelings ; if I 
 have been hasty, your goodness will overlook it." And 
 Lady Chatterton placed her handkerchief to her eyes, to 
 conceal the tears that did not flow. 
 
 Sir Edward thought all this very natural, and as it 
 should be, and he sought an early conference with his 
 son. 
 
 "John," said the father, taking his hand kindly, "you 
 have no reason to doubt my affection or my compliance to 
 your wishes. Fortune is a thing out of the question with a 
 young man of your expectations." And Sir Edward, in his 
 eagerness to smooth the way, went on: "You can live 
 here, or occupy my small seat at Wiltshire. I can allow 
 you five thousand a year, with much ease to myself. In- 
 deed, your mother and myself would both straiten our- 
 selves, to add to your comforts ; but it is unnecessary we 
 have enough, and you have enough." 
 
 Sir Edward, in a few moments, would have settled every, 
 thing to the dowager's perfect satisfaction, had not John 
 interrupted him by the exclamation of 
 
 " To what do you allude, father ?" 
 
 "Allude?" said Sir Edward, simply. "Why, Grace 
 Chatterton, my son." 
 
 " Grace Chatterton ! Sir Edward. What have I to do 
 with Grace Chatterton ?" 
 
 " Her mother has made me acquainted with your pro- 
 posals, and " 
 
 " Proposals ! " 
 
 "Attentions, I ought to have said ; and you have no 
 reason to apprehend anything from me, my child." 
 
 " Attentions ! " said John, haughtily. " I hope Lady 
 Chatterton does not accuse me of improper attentions to 
 her daughter ? " 
 
 "No, not improper, my son," said his father : "on the 
 contrary, she is much pleased with them." 
 
 " She is, is she ? But I am displeased that she should 
 
104 PRECA UTION. 
 
 undertake to put constructions on my acts that no atter* 
 tion or words of mine will justify." 
 
 It was now Sir Edward's turn to be surprised. He had 
 thought he was doing his son a kindness, when he had 
 only been forwarding the dowager's schemes ; but averse 
 from contention, and wondering at his cousin's mistake, 
 which he at once attributed to her anxiety in behalf of a 
 favorite daughter, he told John he was sorry there had 
 been any misapprehension, and left him. 
 
 "No, no," said Moseley, internally, as he paced up and 
 down his father's library, " my lady dowager, you are not 
 going to force a wife down my throat If you do, I am 
 mistaken ; and Grace, if Grace " John softened and be- 
 gan to feel unhappy a little, but anger prevailed. 
 
 From the moment Grace Chatterton conceived a dread 
 of her mother's saying anything to Sir Edward, her whole 
 conduct was altered. She could hardly look any of the 
 family in the face, and it was her most ardent wish that 
 they might depart. John she avoided as she would an ad- 
 ier, though it nearly broke her heart to do so. 
 
 Mr. Benfield had staid longer than usual, and he now 
 wished to return. John Moseley eagerly profited by this 
 opportunity, and the very day after the conversation in the 
 library he went to Benfield Lodge as a dutiful nephew, to 
 see his venerable uncle safely restored once more to the 
 abode of his ancestors. 
 
 Lady Chatterton now perceived, when too late, that she 
 had overshot her mark, while at the same time, she won- 
 dered at the reason of a result so strange from such well- 
 digested and well-conducted plans. She determined, how- 
 ever, never again to interfere between her daughter and 
 the baronet's heir ; concluding with a nearer approach to 
 the truth than always accompanied her deductions, that 
 they resembled ordinary lovers in neither their tempera- 
 ments nor opinions. 
 
 Perceiving no further use in remaining any longer at the 
 Hall, she took her leave, and accompanied by both her 
 daughters, proceeded to the capital, where she expected 
 to meet her son. 
 
 Dr. Ives and his wife returned to the rectory on the same 
 day, and Denbigh immediately resumed his abode under 
 their roof. The intercourse between the rector's family 
 and Sir Edward's was renewed with all its former friendly 
 confidence. 
 
 Colonel Egerton began to speak of his departure also, 
 
PR EC A UT2ON. 105 
 
 but hinted at intentions of visiting L at the period 
 
 of the baronet's visit to his uncle, before he proceeded to 
 town in the winter. 
 
 L - was a small village on the coast, within a mile 
 of Benfield Lodge ; and from its natural convenience, it 
 had long been resorted to by the neighboring gentry for 
 the benefit of sea-bathing. The baronet had promised 
 Mr. Benfield his visit should be made at an earlier day 
 than usual, in order to gratify Jane with a visit to Bath, 
 before they went to London, at which town thev were 
 promised by Mrs. Jarvis the pleasure of her society, and 
 that of her son and daughters. 
 
 PRECAUTION is a word of simple meaning in itself, but 
 Various are the ways adopted by different individuals in 
 this life to enforce its import ; and not a few are the evils 
 which it is thought necessary to guard against. To pro- 
 vide in season against the dangers of want, personal in- 
 jury, loss of character, and a great many other such 
 acknowledged misfortunes, has become a kind of instinct- 
 ive process of our natures. The few exceptions which 
 exist only go to prove the rule : in addition to these, al- 
 most every man has some ruling propensity to gratify, to 
 advance which his ingenuity is ever on the alert, or some 
 apprehended evil to avert, which calls all his prudence into 
 activity. Yet how seldom is it exerted, in order to give a 
 rational ground to expect permanent happiness in wed- 
 lock. 
 
 Marriage is called a lottery, and it is thought, like all 
 other lotteries, there are more blanks than prizes ; yet is 
 it not made more precarious than it ought to be, by our 
 neglect of that degree of precaution which we would be 
 ridiculed for omitting in conducting our every-day con- 
 cerns? Is not the standard of matrimonial felicity placed 
 too low ? Ought we not to look more to the possession of 
 principles than to the possession of wealth ? Or is it at 
 all justifiable in a Christian to commit a child, a daughter, 
 to the keeping of a man who wants the very essential they 
 acknowledge most necessary to constitute a perfect char- 
 acter ? Most men revolt at infidelity in a woman, and 
 most men, however licentious themselves, look for at least 
 the exterior of religion in their wives. The education of 
 their children is a serious responsibility ; and although 
 seldom conducted on such rules as will stand the test of 
 reason, it is not to be entirely shaken off: they choose 
 their early impressions should be correct, their infant con- 
 
106 PR EC A UTJON. 
 
 duct at least blameless. And are not one-half mankind of 
 the male sex ? Are precepts in religion, in morals, only 
 for females ? Are we to reverse the theory of the Moham- 
 medans, and though we do not believe it, act as if men had 
 no souls ? Is not the example of the father as important 
 to the son as that of the mother to the daughter ? In short, 
 is there any security against the commission of enormities, 
 but an humble and devout dependence on the assistance 
 of that Almighty Power, which alone is able to hold us up 
 against temptation ? 
 
 Uniformity of taste is no doubt necessary to what we call 
 love, but is not taste acquired ? Would our daughters ad- 
 mire a handsome deist, if properly impressed with a horror 
 of his doctrines, sooner than they now would admire a 
 handsome Mohammedan ? We would refuse our children 
 to a pious dissenter, to give them to impious members of 
 the establishment : we make the substance less than the 
 shadow. 
 
 Our principal characters are possessed of these diversi- 
 fied views of the evils to be averted. Mrs. Wilson con- 
 siders Christianity an indispensable requisite in the 
 husband to be permitted to her charge, and watches against 
 the possibility of any other than a Christian's gaining the 
 affections of Emily. Lady Chatterton considers the want 
 of an establishment as the unpardonable sin, and directs 
 her energies to prevent this evil ; while John Moseley looks 
 upon a free will as a birthright of an Englishman, and is, 
 at the present moment, anxiously alive to prevent the 
 dowager's making him the husband of Grace, the thing of 
 all others he most strenuously desires. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 JOHN MOSELEY returned from L within a week, and 
 
 appeared as if his whole delight consisted in knocking 
 over the inoffensive birds. His restlessness induced him 
 to make Jarvis his companion ; for although he abhorred 
 the captain's style of pursuing the sport, being in his 
 opinion both out of rule and without taste, yet he was a 
 constitutional fidget, and suited his own moving propen- 
 sities at the moment. Egerton and Denbigh were both 
 frenuently at the Hall, but generally gave their time to 
 
PKE CA I T 7 7 O A r . 107 
 
 the ladies, neither being much inclined to the favorite 
 amusement of John. 
 
 There was a little arbor within the walls of the park, 
 which for years had been a retreat from the summer heats 
 to the ladies of the Moseley family ; even so long ago as 
 the youth of Mrs. Wilson, it had been in vogue, and she 
 loved it with a kind of melancholy pleasure, as the spot 
 where she had first listened to the language of love from 
 the lips of her late husband. Into this arbor the ladies 
 had one day retired, during the warmth of a noonday sun, 
 with the exception of Lady Moseley, who had her own en- 
 gagement in the house. Between Egerton and Denbigh 
 there was maintained a kind of courtly intercourse, which 
 prevented any disagreeable collision from their evident 
 dislike. Mrs. Wilson thought, on the part of Denbigh, it 
 was the forbearance of a principled indulgence to anoth- 
 er's weakness ; while the colonel's otherwise uniform good 
 breeding was hardly able to conceal something amounting 
 to very near repugnance. Egerton had taken his seat on 
 the ground, near the feet of Jane ; and Denbigh was sta- 
 tioned on a bench placed without the arbor, but so near 
 as to have the full benefit of the shade of the noble oak, 
 branches of which had been trained so as to compose its 
 principal covering. It might have been accident that gave 
 each his particular situation ; but it is certain that they 
 were so placed as not to be in sight of each other, and so 
 placed that the colonel was ready to hand Jane her scis- 
 sors, or any other little implement that she occasionally 
 dropped, and that Denbigh could read every lineament of 
 the animated countenance of Emily as she listened to his 
 description of the curiosities of Egypt, a country in which 
 he had spent a few months while attached to the army in 
 Sicily. In this situation we will leave them for an hour, 
 happy in the society of each other, while we trace the 
 route of John Moseley and his companion, in their pursuit 
 of woodcock, on the same day. 
 
 "Do you know, Moseley," said jarvis, who began to 
 think he was a favorite with John, now that he was ad- 
 mitted to his menus plaisirs, " that I have taken it into my 
 head this Mr. Denbigh was very happy to plead his morals 
 for not meeting me. He is a soldier, but I cannot find out 
 what battles he has been in." 
 
 " Captain Jarvis," said John, coolly, " the less you say 
 about that business the better. Call in Rover." 
 
 Now, another of Jarvis's recommendations was a set of 
 
io8 PRECA UTJO.V. 
 
 lungs that might have been heard half a mile with great 
 ease on a still morning. 
 
 "Why," said Jarvis, rather humbly, "I am sensible, Mr. 
 Moseley, I was very wrong as regards your sister ; but don't 
 you think it a little odd in a soldier not to fight when 
 properly called upon ? " 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Denbigh did not think himself properly 
 called upon, or perhaps he had heard what a great shot 
 you were." 
 
 Six months before his appearance in B , Captain 
 
 Jarvis had been a clerk in the counting-room of Jarvis, 
 Baxter & Co., and had never held fire-arms of any kind 
 in his hand, with the exception of an old blunderbuss, which 
 had been a kind of sentinel over the iron chest for years. 
 On mounting the cockade, he had taken up shooting as a 
 martial exercise, inasmuch as the burning of gunpowder 
 was an attendant of the recreation. He had never killed 
 but one bird in his life, and that was an owl, of which he 
 took the advantage of daylight and his stocking feet to 
 knock off a tree in the Deanery grounds, very early after 
 his arrival. In his trials with John, he sometimes pulled 
 trigger at the same moment with his companion ; and as 
 the bird generally fell, he thought he had an equal claim 
 to the honor. He was fond of warring with crows and 
 birds of the larger sort, and invariably went provided with 
 small balls fitted to the bore of his fowling-piece for such 
 accidental rencontres. He had another habit, which was 
 not a little annoying to John, who had several times tried 
 in vain to break him of it that of shooting at marks. If 
 birds were not plenty, he would throw up a chip, and 
 sometimes his hat, by way of shooting on the wing. 
 
 As the day was excessively hot, and the game kept close, 
 John felt willing to return from such unprofitable labor. 
 The captain now commenced his chip firing, which in a 
 few minutes was succeeded by his hat. 
 
 " See, Moseley, see ; I have hit the band," cried the cap- 
 tain, delighted to find that he had at last wounded his old 
 antagonist. " I don't think you can beat that, yourself." 
 
 " I am not sure I can," said John, slipping a handful of 
 gravel in the muzzle of his piece slyly, " but I can do as 
 you did try." 
 
 " Do," cried the captain, pleased to get his companion 
 down to his, own level of amusements. " Are you ready ? * 
 
 " Yes ; throw." 
 
 Jarvis threw, and John fired.: the hat fairly bounced. 
 
PRK CA UT1 ON. 109 
 
 " Have I hit it ? " asked John, while reloading the barrel 
 he had discharged. 
 
 " Hit it !" said the captain, looking ruefully at his hat. 
 " It looks like a cullender ; but, Moseley, your gun don't 
 scatter well ; a dozen shot have gone through in the same 
 place." 
 
 " It does look rather like a cullender," said John, as he 
 overlooked his companion's beaver, "and, by the size of 
 some of the holes, one that has been a good deal used." 
 
 The reports of the fowling-pieces announced to the party 
 in the arbor the return of the sportsmen, it being an in- 
 variable practice with John Moseley to discharge his gun 
 before he came in ; and Jarvis had imitated him, from a 
 wish to be what he called in rule. 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh," said John, as he put down his gun, 
 " Captain Jarvis has got the better of his hat at last." 
 
 Denbigh smiled without speaking ; and the captain, un- 
 willing to have anything to say to a gentleman to whom he 
 had been obliged to apologize, went into the arbor to show 
 the mangled condition of his head-piece to the colonel, on 
 whose sympathies he felt a kind of claim, being of the same 
 corps. John complained of thirst, and went to a little run 
 of water but a short distance from them, in order to satisfy 
 it. The interruption of Jarvis was particularly unseason- 
 able. Jane was relating, in a manner peculiar to herself, 
 in which was mingled that indefinable exchange of looks 
 lovers are so fond of, some incident of her early life to the 
 colonel that greatly interested him. Knowing the captain's 
 foibles, he pointed, therefore, with his finger, as he said : 
 
 " There is one of your old enemies, a hawk." 
 
 Jarvis threw down his hat, and ran with a boyish eager- 
 ness to drive away the intruder. In his haste, he caught 
 up the gun of John Moseley, and loading it rapidly, threw 
 in a ball from his usual stock ; but whether the hawk saw 
 and knew him, or whether it saw something else it liked 
 better, it made a dart for the baronet's poultry-yard at no 
 great distance, and was out of sight in a minute. Seeing 
 that his foe had vanished, the captain laid the piece where 
 he had found it, and, recovering his old train of ideas, 
 picked up his hat again. 
 
 " John," said Emily, as she approached him affection- 
 ately, " you were too warm to drink." 
 
 " Stand off, sis," cried John, playfully, taking up the 
 gun from against the body of the tree, and dropping it to 
 ward her. 
 
no 
 
 Jarvis had endeavored to make an appeal to the com- 
 miseration of Emily in favor of the neglected beaver, and 
 was within a few feet of them. At this moment, recoiling 
 from the muzzle of the gun, he exclaimed, " It is loaded ! " 
 " Hold ! " cried Denbigh, in a voice of horror, as he sprang 
 between John and his sister. Both were too late ; the 
 piece was discharged. Denbigh, turning to Emily, and 
 smiling mournfully, gazed for a moment at her with an 
 expression of tenderness, of pleasure, of sorrow, so blended 
 that she retained the recollection of it for life, and fell at 
 her feet. 
 
 The gun dropped from the nerveless grasp of young 
 Moseley. Emily sank in insensibility by the side of her 
 preserver. Mrs. Wilson and Jane stood speechless and 
 aghast. The colonel alone retained the presence of mind 
 necessary to devise the steps to be immediately taken, lie 
 sprang to the examination of Denbigh ; the eyes of the 
 wounded man were open, and his recollection perfect ; the 
 first were fixed in intense observation on the' inanimate 
 body which lay at his side. 
 
 " Leave me, Colonel Egerton," he said, speaking with dif- 
 ficulty, and pointing in the direction of the little run of water; 
 " assist Miss Moseley your hat your hat will answer." 
 
 Accustomed to scenes of blood, and not ignorant that 
 time and care were the remedies to be applied to the 
 wounded man, Egerton flew to the stream, and returning 
 immediately, by the help of her sister and Mrs. Wilson, 
 soon restored Emily to life. The ladies and John had now 
 begun to act. The tenderest assiduities of Jane were de- 
 voted to her sister ; while Mrs. Wilson, observing her niece 
 to be uninjured by any thing but the shock, assisted John 
 in supporting the wounded man. 
 
 Denbigh spoke, requesting to be carried to the house ; 
 and Jarvis was despatched for help. Within half an hour, 
 Denbigh was placed on a couch in the house of Sir Edward, 
 and was quietly waiting for that professional aid which 
 could only decide on his probable fate. The group assem- 
 bled in the room were in fearful expectation of the arrival 
 of the surgeons, in pursuit of whom messengers had been 
 sent both to the barracks in F - and to the town itself. 
 Sir Edward sat by the side of the sufferer, holding one of 
 his hands in his own, now turning his tearful eyes on that 
 daughter who had so lately been rescued as it were from 
 the certainty of death, in mute gratitude and thanksgiving, 
 and now dwelling on the countenance of him who, by 
 
PR EC A UTION. 1 1 1 
 
 bravely interposing his bosom to the blow, had incurred 
 m his own person the imminent danger of a similar fate, 
 with a painful sense of his perilous situation, and devout 
 and earnest prayers for his safety. Emily was with her 
 father, as with the rest of his family, a decided favorite ; 
 and no reward would have been sufficient, no gratitude 
 lively enough, in the estimation of the baronet, to compen- 
 sate the protector of such a child. She sat between her 
 mother and Jane, with a hand held by each, pale and op- 
 pressed with a load of gratitude, of thanksgiving, of woe, 
 that almost bowed her to the earth. Lady Moseley and 
 Jane were both sensibly touched with the deliverance of 
 Emily, and manifested the interest they took in her by the 
 tenderest caresses, while Mrs. Wilson sat calmly collected 
 within herself, occasionally giving those few directions 
 which were necessary under the circumstances, and offering 
 up her silent petitions in behalf of the sufferer. John had 
 taken horse immediately for F , and Jarvis had volun- 
 teered to go to the rectory and Bolton. Denbigh inquired 
 frequently and with much anxiety for Dr. Ives ; but the rec- 
 tor was absent from home on a visit to a sick parishioner, 
 and it was late in the evening before he arrived. Within three 
 hours of the accident, however, Dr. Black, the surgeon of 
 
 the th, reached the Hall, and immediately proceeded 
 
 to examine the wound. The ball had penetrated the right 
 breast, and gone directly through the body ; it was ex- 
 tracted with very little difficulty, and his attendant ac- 
 quainted the anxious friends of Denbigh that the heart 
 certainly, and he -hoped the lungs, had escaped uninjured. 
 The ball was a very small one, and the principal danger 
 to be apprehended was from fever : he had taken the usual 
 precautions against that, and, should it not set in with a 
 violence greater than he apprehended at present, the 
 patient might be abroad within the month. 
 
 " But," continued the surgeon, with the hardened in- 
 difference of his profession, "the gentleman has had a nar- 
 row chance in the passage of the ball itself ; half an inch 
 would have settled his accounts with this world." 
 
 This information greatly relieved the family, and orders 
 were given to preserve a silence in the house that would 
 favor the patient's disposition to quiet, or, if possible, sleep. 
 
 Dr. Ives now reached the hall. Mrs. Wilson had never seen 
 the rector in the agitation, or with the want of self-command 
 he was in, as she met him at the entrance of the house. 
 
 "Is he alive? is there hope ? where is George?" cried 
 
112 PKE CA UTION*. 
 
 the doctor, as he caught the extended hand of Mrs. Wilson. 
 She briefly acquainted him with the surgeon's report, and 
 the reasonable ground there was to expect Denbigh would 
 survive the injury. 
 
 " May God be praised," said the rector, in a suppressed 
 voice, as he hastily withdrew into another room. Mrs. 
 Wilson followed him slowly and in silence ; but was checked 
 on opening the door with the sight of the rector on his 
 knees, the tears stealing down his venerable cheeks in quick 
 succession. " Surely," thought the widow, as she drew back 
 unnoticed, " a youth capable of exciting such affection in 
 a man like Dr. Ives, cannot be unworthy." 
 
 Denbigh, hearing of the arrival of his friend, desired to 
 see him alone. Their conference was short, and the rector 
 returned from it with increased hopes of the termination 
 of this dreadful accident. He immediately left the Hall 
 for his own house, with a promise of returning early on 
 the following morning. 
 
 During the night, however, the symptoms became un- 
 favorable ; and before the return of Dr. Ives, Denbigh 
 was in a state of delirium from the height of his fever, and 
 the apprehensions of his friends were renewed with ad- 
 ditional force. 
 
 " What, what, my good sir, do you think of him ? " said 
 the baronet to the family physician, with an emotion that 
 the danger of his dearest child would not have exceeded, 
 and within hearing of most of his children, who were col- 
 lected in the antechamber of the room in which Denbigh 
 was placed. 
 
 " It is impossible to say, Sir Edward," replied the phy- 
 sician ; " he refuses all medicines, and unless this fever 
 abates, there is but little hope of recovery." 
 
 Emily stood during this question and answer, motionless, 
 pale as death, and with her hands clasped together, be- 
 traying, by the workings of her fingers in a kind of con- 
 vulsive motion, the intensity of her interest. She had seen 
 the draught prepared which it was so desirable that Den- 
 bigh should take, and it now stood rejected on a table, where 
 it could be seen through the open door of his room. Almost 
 breathless, she glided in, and taking the draught in her hand, 
 she approached the bed, by which sat John alone, listening 
 with a feeling of despair to the wanderings of the sick 
 man. Emily hesitated once or twice, as she drew neai 
 Denbigh ; her face had lost the paleness of anxiety, and 
 glowed with another emotion. 
 
PRECA UTION. H 3 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh dear Denbigh," said Emily, with energy, 
 unconsciously dropping her voice into the softest notes 
 of persuasion, "will you refuse me? me, Emily Moseley, 
 whose life you have saved ? " 
 
 " Emily Moseley ! " repeated Denbigh, and in those tones 
 so remarkable "to his natural voice. " Is she safe ? I thought 
 she was killed dead." Then, as if recollecting himself, he 
 gazed intently on her countenance his eye became less 
 fiery his muscles relaxed he smiled, and took, with the 
 docility of a well-trained child, the prescribed medicines 
 from her hand. His ideas still wandered, but his physician, 
 profiting by the command Emily possessed over his pa- 
 tient, increased his care, and by night the fever had abated, 
 and before morning the wounded man was in a profound 
 sleep. During the whole day, it was thought necessary to 
 keep Emily by the side of his bed ; but at times it was no 
 trifling tax on her feelings to remain there. He spoke of 
 her by name in the tenderest manner, although incohe- 
 rently, and in terms that restored to the blanched cheeks 
 of the distressed girl more than the richness of their native 
 color. His thoughts were not confined to Emily, however ; 
 he talked of his father, of his mother, and frequently spoke 
 of his poor deserted Marian. The latter name he dwelt 
 on in the language of the warmest affection, condemned 
 his own desertion of her, and, taking Emily for her, would 
 beg her forgiveness, tell her her sufferings had been 
 enough, and that he would return, and never leave her 
 again. At such moments his nurse would sometimes show, 
 by the paleness of her cheeks, her anxiety for his health ; 
 and then, as he addressed her by her proper appellation, 
 all her emotions appeared absorbed in the sense of shame 
 at the praises with which he overwhelmed her. Mrs. Wilson 
 succeeded her in the charge of the patient, and she retired 
 to seek that repose she so greatly needed. 
 
 On the second morning after receiving the wound, Den- 
 bigh dropped into a deep sleep, from which he awoke re- 
 freshed and perfectly collected in mind. The fever had 
 left him, and his attendants pronounced, with the usual 
 cautions, to prevent a relapse, his recovery certain. It 
 were impossible to have communicated any intelligence 
 more grateful to all the members of the Moseley family ; 
 for Jane had even lost sight of her own lover, in sympathy 
 for the fate of a man who had sacrificed himself to save 
 her beloved sister. 
 
,14 PRECAUTION. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE recovery of Denbigh was as rapid as the most sa 
 guine expectation of his friends could hope for, and in ten 
 days he left his bed, and would sit an hour or two at a time 
 in his dressing-room, where Mrs. Wilson, accompanied by 
 Jane or Emily, came and read to him ; and it was a remark 
 of Sir Edward's gamekeeper, that the woodcocks had be- 
 come so tame during the time Mr. Moseley was shut up in 
 attendance on his friend, that Captain Jarvis was at last 
 actually seen to bag one honestly. 
 
 As Jarvis felt something like a consciousness that but 
 for his folly the accident would not have happened, and 
 also something very like shame for the manner he had 
 shrunk from the danger Denbigh had so nobly met, he 
 pretended a recall to his regiment, then on duty near Lon- 
 don, and left the Deanery. He went off as he came in 
 in the colonel's tilbury, and accompanied by his friend and 
 his pointers. John, who saw them pass from the windows 
 of Denbigh's dressing-room, fervently prayed he might 
 never come back again the chip-shooting poacher ! 
 
 Colonel Egerton had taken leave of Jane the evening 
 preceding, with many assurances of the anxiety with which 
 he should look forward to the moment of their meeting at 
 
 L , whither he intended repairing as soon as his corps 
 
 had gone through its annual review. Jane had followed 
 the bent of her natural feelings too much, during the period 
 of Denbigh's uncertain fate, to think much of her lover, 
 or anything else but her rescued sister and her preserver ; 
 but now the former was pronounced in safety and the latter, 
 by the very reaction of her grief, was, if possible, happier 
 than ever, Jane dwelt in melancholy sadness on the per- 
 fections of the man who had taken with him the best af- 
 fections (as she thought) of her heart. With him all was 
 perfect : his morals were unexceptionable ; his manners 
 showed it ; his tenderness of disposition manifest, for they 
 had wept together over the distresses of more than one 
 fictitious heroine ; his temper, how amiable ! he was never 
 angry she had never seen it ; his opinions, his tastes, how 
 correct ! they were her own ; his form, his face, how agree- 
 able ! her eyes had seen it, and her heart acknowledged 
 it ; besides, his eyes confessed the power of her own 
 charms ; he was brave, for he was a soldier ; in short, as 
 
PRECAUTION. 115 
 
 Emily had predicted, he was a hero for he was Colonel 
 Egerton. 
 
 Had Jane been possessed of less exuberance of fancy, 
 she might have been a little at a loss to identify all these 
 good properties with her hero ; or had she possessed a 
 matured or well-regulated judgment to control that fancy, 
 they might possibly have assumed a different appearance. 
 No explanation had taken place between them, however. 
 Jane knew, both by her own feelings and by all the legends 
 of love from its earliest days, that the moment of parting 
 was generally a crisis in affairs of the heart, and, with a 
 backwardness occasioned by her modesty, had rather 
 avoided than sought an opportunity to favor the colonel's 
 wishes. Egerton had not been over-anxious to come to the 
 point, and everything was left as heretofore : neither, how- 
 ever, appeared to doubt in the least the state of the other's 
 affections ; and there might be said to exist between them 
 one of those not unusual engagements by implication 
 which it would have been, in their own estimation, a breach 
 of faith to recede from, but which, like all other bargains 
 that are loosely made, are sometimes violated when con- 
 venient. Man is a creature that, as experience has suffi- 
 ciently proved, it is necessary to keep in his proper place 
 in society by wholesome restrictions ; and we have often 
 thought it a matter of regret that some well-understood 
 regulations did not exist by which it became not only cus- 
 tomary, but incumbent on him, to proceed in his road to 
 the temple of Hymen. We know that it is ungenerous, 
 ignoble, almost unprecedented, to doubt the faith, the con- 
 stancy, of a male paragon ; yet, somehow, as the papers 
 occasionally give us a sample of such infidelity ; as we have 
 sometimes seen a solitary female brooding over her woes 
 in silence, and, with the seemliness of feminine decorum, 
 shrinking from the discovery of its cause, or which the 
 grave has revealed for the first time, we cannot but wish 
 that either the watchfulness of the parent, or a sense of 
 self-preservation in the daughter, would, for the want of a 
 better, cause them to adhere to those old conventional 
 forms of courtship which require a man to speak to be un- 
 derstood, and a woman to answer to be committed. 
 
 There was a little parlor in the house of Sir Edward 
 Moseley, that \vas the privileged retreat of none but the 
 members of his own family. Here the ladies were accus- 
 tomed to withdraw into the bosom of their domestic qui- 
 etude, when occasional visitors had disturbed their ordi 
 
n6 PRECAUTION. 
 
 nary intercourse ; and many were the hasty and unreserved 
 communications it had witnessed between the sisters, in 
 their stolen flights from the graver scenes of the principal 
 apartments. It might be said to be sacred to the pious 
 feelings of the domestic affections. Sir Edward would re- 
 tire to it when fatigued with his occupations, certain of 
 finding some one of those he loved to draw his thoughts 
 off from the cares of life to the little incidents of his chil- 
 dren's happiness ; and Lady Moseley, even in the proudest 
 hours of her reviving splendor, seldom passed the door 
 without looking in, with a smile, on the faces she might 
 find there. It was, in fact, the room in the large mansion 
 of the baronet, expressly devoted, by long usage and com- 
 mon consent, to the purest feelings of human nature. Into 
 this apartment Denbigh had gained admission, as the one 
 nearest to his own room, and requiring the least effort of 
 his returning strength to reach ; and, perhaps, by an unde- 
 finable feeling of the Moseleys which had begun to con- 
 nect him with themselves, partly from his winning man- 
 ners, and partly by the sense of the obligation he had laid 
 them under. 
 
 One warm day, John and his friend had sought this re- 
 treat, in expectation of meeting his sisters, who they found, 
 however, on inquiry, had walked to the arbor. After re- 
 maining conversing for an hour by themselves, John was 
 called away to attend to a pointer that had been taken 
 ill, and Denbigh, throwing a handkerchief over his head 
 to guard against the danger of cold, quietly composed 
 himself on one of the comfortable sofas of the room, with 
 a disposition to sleep. Before he had entirely lost his 
 consciousness, a light step moving near him, caught his 
 ear ; believing it to be a servant unwilling to disturb 
 him, he endeavored to continue in his present mood, until 
 the quick but stifled breathing of some one nearer than 
 before roused his curiosity. He commanded himself, how- 
 ever, sufficiently, to remain quiet ; a blind of a window 
 near him was carefully closed ; a screen drawn from a 
 corner and placed so as sensibly to destroy the slight 
 draught of air in which he had laid himself ; and other 
 arrangements were making, but with a care to avoid dis- 
 turbing him that rendered them hardly audible. Pres- 
 ently the step approached him again, the breathing was 
 quicker, though gentle, the handkerchief was moved, but 
 the hand was withdrawn hastily, as if afraid of itself. An- 
 other effort was successful, and Denbigh stole a glance 
 
PRECAUTION. 117 
 
 through his dark lashes, on the figure of Emily as she stood 
 over him in the fulness of her charms, and with a face in 
 which glowed an interest he had never witnessed in it be- 
 fore. It undoubtedly was gratitude. For a moment she 
 gazed on him, as her color increased in richness. His 
 hand was carelessly thrown over an arm of the sofa ; she 
 stooped toward it with her face gently, but with an air of 
 modesty that shone in her very figure. Denbigh felt the 
 warmth of her breath, but her lips did not touch it. Had 
 he been inclined to judge the actions of Emily Moseley 
 harshly, it were impossible to mistake the movement for 
 anything but the impulse of natural feeling. There was a 
 pledge of innocence, of modesty, in her countenance, that 
 would have prevented any misconstruction ; and he con- 
 tinued quietly awaiting what the preparations on her little 
 mahogany secretary were intended for. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson entertained a great abhorrence of what are 
 commonly called accomplishments in a woman ; she knew 
 that too much of that precious time which could never be 
 recalled, was thrown away in endeavoring to acquire a 
 smattering in what, if known, could never be of use to the 
 party, and what can never be well known but to a few, 
 whom nature and long practice have enabled to conquer. 
 Yet as her niece had early manifested a taste for painting, 
 and a vivid perception of the beauties of nature, her in- 
 clination had been indulged, and Emily Moseley sketched 
 with neatness and accuracy, and with great readiness. It 
 would have been no subject of surprise, had admiration, or 
 some more powerful feeling, betrayed to the artist, on this 
 occasion, the deception the young man was practising. 
 She had entered the room from her walk, warm and care- 
 less ; her hair, than which none was more beautiful, had 
 strayed on her shoulders, freed from the confinement of 
 the comb, and a lock was finely contrasted to the rich 
 color of a cheek that almost burnt with the exercise and 
 the excitement. Her dress, white as the first snow of the 
 winter ; her looks, as she now turned them on the face of 
 the sleeper, and betrayed by their animation the success 
 of her art, formed a picture in itself, that Denbigh would 
 have been content to gaze on forever. Her back was to a 
 window, that threw its strong light on the paper the fig- 
 ures of which were reflected, as she occasionally held it up 
 to study its effect, in a large mirror so placed that Den- 
 bigh caught a view of her subject. He knew it at a glance 
 the arbor the gun himself, all were there ; it appeared 
 
li8 PRECAUTION. 
 
 to have been drawn before it must have been, from its 
 perfect state, and Emily had seized a favorable moment 
 to complete his own resemblance. He'r touches were 
 light and finishing, and as the picture was frequently held 
 up for consideration, he had some time allowed for study- 
 ing it. His own resemblance was strong ; his eyes were 
 turned on herself, to whom Denbigh thought she had not 
 done ample justice, but the man \vho held the gun bore 
 no likeness to John Moseley, except in dress. A slight 
 movement of the muscles of the sleeper's mouth might 
 have betrayed his consciousness, had not Emily been too 
 intent on the picture, as she turned it in such a way 
 that a strong light fell on the recoiling figure of Captain 
 Jarvis. The resemblance was wonderful. Denbigh thought 
 he would have known it, had he seen it in the Academy 
 itself. The noise of some one approaching closed the 
 portfolio ; it was only a servant, yet Emily did not resume 
 her pencil. Denbigh watched her motions, as she put 
 the picture carefully in a private drawer of the secretary, 
 reopened the blind, replaced the screen, and laid the hand- 
 kerchief, the last thing, on his face, with a movement 
 almost imperceptible to himself. 
 
 " It is later than I thought," said Denbigh, looking at 
 his watch ; "I owe an apology, Miss Moseley, for mak- 
 ing so free with your parlor ; but I was too lazy to 
 move." 
 
 "Apology! Mr. Denbigh," cried Emily, with a color 
 varying with every word she spoke, and trembling at 
 what she thought the nearness of detection, " you have 
 no apology to make for your present debility ; and, surely, 
 surely, least of all to me ! " 
 
 "I understand from Mr. Moseley," continued Denbigh, 
 with a smile, " that our obligation is at least mutual ; to 
 your perseverance and care, Miss Moseley, after the physi- 
 cians had given me up, I believe I am, under Providence, 
 indebted for my recovery." 
 
 Emily was not vain, and least of all addicted to a dis- 
 play of any of her acquirements ; very few even of her 
 friends knew she ever held a pencil in her hand ; yet did 
 she now unaccountably throw open her portfolio, and 
 offer its contents to the examination of her companion. 
 It was done almost instantaneously, and with great free- 
 dom, though not without certain flushings of the face and 
 heavings of the bosom, that would have eclipsed Grace 
 Chatterton in her happiest moments of natural flattery. 
 
PRE CA UTION. 1 1 9 
 
 Whatever might have been the wishes of Mr. Denbigh to 
 pursue a subject which had begun to grow extremely in- 
 teresting, both from its import and the feelings of the par- 
 ties, it would have been rude to decline viewing the con- 
 tents of a lady's portfolio. The drawings were, many of 
 them, interesting, and the exhibitor of them now appeared 
 as anxious to remove them in haste, as she had but the 
 moment before been to direct his attention to her per- 
 formances. Denbigh would have given much to dare to 
 ask for the paper so carefully secreted in the private 
 drawer ; but neither the principal agency he had himself 
 in the scene, nor delicacy to his companion's wish for 
 concealment, would allow of the request. 
 
 " Doctor Ives ! how happy I am to see you," said Emily, 
 hastily closing her portfolio, and before Denbigh had gone 
 half through its contents; "you have become almost a 
 stranger to us since Clara left us." 
 
 " No, no, my little friend, never a stranger, I hope, at 
 Moseley Hall," cried the doctor, pleasantly; "George, I 
 am happy to see you look so well you have even a color 
 there is a letter for you, from Marian." 
 
 Denbigh took the letter eagerly, and retired to a win- 
 dow to peruse it. His hand shook as he broke the seal, 
 and his interest in the writer, or its contents, could not 
 have escaped the notice of any observer, however indif- 
 ferent. 
 
 "Now, Miss Emily, if you will have the goodness to or- 
 der me a glass of wine and water after my ride, believe me, 
 you will do a very charitable act," cried the doctor, as he 
 took his seat on the sofa. 
 
 Emily was standing by the little table, deeply musing 
 on the contents of her portfolio ; for her eyes were in- 
 tently fixed on the outside, as if she expected to see 
 through the leather covering their merits and faults. 
 
 "Miss Emily Moseley," continued the doctor, gravely, 
 u am I to die of thirst or not, this warm day ? " 
 
 " Do you wish anything, Doctor Ives ? " 
 
 " A servant to get me a glass of wine and water." 
 
 "Why did you not ask me, my dear sir?" said Emily, 
 as she threw open a cellaret, and handed him what he 
 wanted. 
 
 " There, my dear, there is a great plenty," said the doo 
 tor, with an arch expression ; " I really thought I had asked 
 you thrice but I believe you were studying something in 
 that portfolio." 
 
PRECA UTION; 
 
 Emily blushed, and endeavored to laugh at her own ab- 
 sence of mind ; but she would have given the world to 
 know who Marian was. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 As a month had elapsed since he received his wound, 
 Denbigh took an opportunity, one morning at breakfast, 
 where he was well enough now to meet his friends, to an- 
 nounce his intention of trespassing no longer on their 
 kindness, but of returning that day to the rectory. The 
 communication distressed the whole family, and the baron- 
 et turned to him in the most cordial manner, as he took 
 one of his hands, and said with an air of solemnity 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh, I could wish you to make this house 
 your home ; Dr. Ives may have known you longer, and 
 may have the claim of relationship on you, but I am cer- 
 tain he cannot love you better ; and are not the ties of 
 gratitude as binding as those of blood ? " 
 
 Denbigh was affected by the kindness of Sir Edward's 
 manner. 
 
 " The regiment I belong to, Sir Edward, will be reviewed 
 \iext week, and it has become my duty to leave here ; there 
 is one it is proper I should visit, a near connection, who is 
 acquainted with the escape I have met with, and wishes 
 naturally to see me ; besides, my dear Sir Edward, she has 
 many causes of sorrow, and it is a debt I owe her affection 
 to endeavor to relieve them." 
 
 It was the first time he had ever spoken of his family, 
 or hardly of himself, and the silence which 4 prevailed plain- 
 ly showed the interest his listeners took in the little he 
 uttered. 
 
 That connection, thought Emily I wonder if her name 
 be Marian ? But nothing further passed, excepting the 
 affectionate regrets of her father, and the promises of Den- 
 bigh to visit them again before he left B , and of join- 
 ing them at L - immediately after the review of which 
 he had spoken. As soon as he had breakfasted, John 
 drove him in his phaeton to the rectory. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson, like the rest of the baronet's family, had 
 been too deeply impressed with the debt they owed this 
 young man to interfere with her favorite system of caution 
 against too great an intimacy betvyeen her niece and he* 
 
PRECAUTION'. 121 
 
 preserver. Close observation and the opinion of Dr. Ives 
 had prepared her to give him her esteem ; but the gallan- 
 try, the self-devotion he had displayed to Emily was an act 
 calculated to remove heavier objections than she "could 
 imagine as likely to exist to his becoming her husband. 
 That he meant it, was evident from his whole deportment 
 of late. Since the morning the portfolio was produced, 
 Denbigh had given a more decided preference to her niece. 
 The nice discrimination of Mrs. Wilson would not have 
 said his feelings had become stronger, but that he labored 
 less to conceal them. That he loved her niece she sus- 
 pected from the first fortnight of their acquaintance, and 
 it had given additional stimulus to her investigation into 
 his character ; but to doubt it, after stepping between her 
 and death, would have been to have mistaken human nat- 
 ure. There was one qualification she would have wished 
 to have been certain he possessed : before this accident, 
 she would have made it an indispensable one ; but the 
 gratitude, the affections of Emily, she believed now to be 
 too deeply engaged to make the strict inquiry she other- 
 wise would have done ; and she had the best of reasons for 
 believing that if Denbigh were not a true Christian, he was 
 at least a strictly moral man, and assuredly one who well 
 understood the beauties of a religion she almost conceived 
 it impossible for any impartial and intelligent man long to 
 resist. Perhaps Mrs. Wilson, having in some measure in- 
 terfered with her system, like others, had, on finding it 
 impossible to conduct so that reason would justify all she 
 did, began to find reasons for what she thought best to be 
 done under the circumstances. Denbigh, however, both 
 by his acts and his opinions, had created such an estimate 
 of his worth in the breast of Mrs. Wilson, that there would 
 have been but little danger of a repulse had no fortuitous 
 accident helped him in his way to her favor. 
 
 "Who have we here ?" said Lady Moseley. " A landau- 
 let and four the Earl of Bolton, I declare ! " 
 
 Lady Moseley turned from the window with that col- 
 lected grace she so well loved, and so well knew how to 
 assume, to receive her noble visitor. Lord Bolton was a 
 bachelor of sixty-five, who had long been attached to the 
 court, and retained much of the manners of the old school. 
 His principal estate was in Ireland, and most of that time 
 which his duty at Windsor did not require he gave to the 
 improvement of his Irish property. Thus, although on 
 perfectly good terms with the baronet's family, they sel 
 
122 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 dom met. With General Wilson he had been at college, 
 and to his widow he always showed much of that regard 
 he had invariably professed for her husband. The obliga- 
 tion he had conferred, unasked, on Francis Ives, was one 
 conferred on all his friends, and his reception was now 
 warmer than usual. 
 
 " My Lady Moseley," said the earl, bowing formally on 
 her hand, " your looks do ample justice to the air of 
 Northamptonshire. I hope you enjoy your usual health." 
 
 Then, waiting her equally courteous answer, he paid his 
 compliments, in succession, to all the members of the fam- 
 ily ; a mode undoubtedly well adapted to discover their 
 several conditions, but not a little tedious in its operations, 
 and somewhat tiresome to the legs. 
 
 "We are under a debt of gratitude to your lordship," 
 said Sir Edward, in his simple and warm-hearted way, 
 " that I am sorry it is not in our power to repay more 
 amply than by our thanks." 
 
 The earl was, or affected to be, surprised, as he required 
 an explanation. 
 
 " The living at Bolton," said Lady Moseley, with dignity. 
 
 " Yes," continued her husband; "in giving the living 
 to Frank you did me a favor, equal to what you would 
 have done had he been my own child ; and unsolicited, 
 too, my lord, it was an additional compliment." 
 
 The earl sat rather uneasy during this speech, but the 
 love of truth prevailed ; for he had been too much round 
 the person of our beloved sovereign not to retain all the 
 impressions of his youth ; and after a little struggle with 
 his self-love, he answered 
 
 "Not unsolicited, Sir Edward. I have no doubt, had 
 my better fortune allowed me the acquaintance of my 
 present rector, his own merit would have obtained what a 
 sense of justice requires I should say was granted to an 
 applicant to whom the ear of royalty itself would not have 
 been deaf." 
 
 It was the turn of the Moseleys now to look surprised, 
 arid Sir Edward ventured to ask an explanation. 
 
 " It was my cousin, the Earl of Pendennyss, who applied 
 for it, as a favor done to himself ; and Pendennyss is a 
 man not to be refused anything." 
 
 "Lord Pendennyss !" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with ani- 
 mation ; " and in what way came we to be under this obli- 
 gation to Lord Pendennyss ? " 
 
 " He did me the honor of a call during my visit to Ire- 
 
PR EC A UTION. 
 
 123 
 
 land, madam," replied the earl ; " and on inquiring of my 
 steward after his old friend, Doctor Stevens, learned his 
 death, and the claims of Mr. Ives ; but the reason he gave 
 me was his interest in the widow of General Wilson," bow- 
 ing with much solemnity to the lady as he spoke. 
 
 " I am gratified to find the earl yet remembers us," said 
 Mrs. Wilson, struggling to restrain her tears. "Are we to 
 have the pleasure of seeing him soon ? " 
 
 " I received a letter from him yesterday, saying he 
 should be here in all next week, madam." And turning 
 pleasantly to Jane and her sister, he continued, " Sir 
 Edward, you have here rewards fit for heavier services, 
 and the earl is a great admirer of female charms." 
 
 " Is he not married, my lord ? " asked the baronet, with 
 great simplicity. 
 
 " No, baronet, nor engaged ; but how long he will re- 
 main so after his hardihood in venturing into this neigh- 
 borhood, will, I trust, depend on one of these young ladies." 
 
 Jane looked grave for trifling on love was heresy, in 
 her estimation ; but Emily laughed, with an expression in 
 which a skilful physiognomist might have read if he 
 means me, he is mistaken. 
 
 "Your cousin, Lord Chatterton, has found interest, Sir 
 Edward," continued the peer, "to obtain hjis father's situ- 
 ation ; and if reports speak truth, he wishes to become 
 more nearly related to you, baronet." 
 
 "I do not well see how that can happen," said Sir Ed- 
 ward with a smile, and who had not art enough to conceal 
 his thoughts, "unless he takes my sister here." 
 
 The cheeks of both the young ladies now vied with the 
 rose ; and the peer, observing he had touched on forbidden 
 ground, added, " Chatterton was fortunate to find friends 
 able to bear up against the powerful interest of Lord 
 Haverford." 
 
 " To whom was he indebted for the place, my lord ? " 
 asked Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " It was whispered at court, madam," said the earl, sen- 
 sibly lowering his voice, and speaking with an air of mys- 
 tery " and a lord of the bed-chamber is fonder of discov- 
 eries than a lord of the council that His Grace of Derwent 
 threw the whole of his parliamentary interest into the 
 scale on the baron's side, but you are not to suppose," 
 raising his hand gracefully, with a wave of rejection, 
 " that I speak from authority ; only a surmise, Sir Edward, 
 only a surmise, my lady." 
 
124 PRECA UTION; 
 
 "Is not the name of the Duke of Derwent, Denbigh ?" 
 inquired Mrs. Wilson, with a thoughtful manner. 
 
 " Certainly, madam, Denbigh," replied the earl, with a 
 gravity with which he always spoke of dignities ; "one of 
 our most ancient names, and descended on the female side 
 from the Plantagenets and Tudors." 
 
 He now rose to take his leave, and on bowing to the 
 younger ladies, laughingly repeated his intention of bring- 
 ing his cousin (an epithet he never omitted) Pendennyss 
 to their feet. 
 
 " Do you think, sister," said Lady Moseley, after the 
 earl had retired, " that Mr. Denbigh is of the house of Der- 
 went ? " 
 
 "I cannot say," replied Mrs. Wilson, musing, "yet it is 
 odd, Chatterton told me of his acquaintance with Lady 
 Harriet Denbigh, but not with the Duke." 
 
 As this was spoken in the manner of a soliloquy, it re- 
 ceived no answer, and was in fact but little attended to 
 by any of the party, excepting Emily, who glanced hei 
 eye once or twice at her aunt as she was speaking 
 with an interest the name of Denbigh never failed to ex 
 cite. Harriet was, she thought, a pretty name, but Ma- 
 rian was a prettier ; if, thought Emily, I could know a 
 Marian Denbigh, I am sure I could love her, and her 
 name too. 
 
 The Moseleys now began to make their preparations 
 for their departure to L , and the end of the succeed- 
 ing week was fixed for the period at which they were 
 to go. Mrs. Wilson urged a delay of two or three days, 
 in order to give her an opportunity of meeting with the 
 Earl of Pendennyss, a young man in whom, although 
 she had relinquished her former romantic wish of unit- 
 ing him to Emily, in favor of Denbigh, she yet felt 
 a deep interest, growing out of his connection with the 
 last moments of her husband, and his uniformly high 
 character. 
 
 Sir Edward accordingly acquainted his uncle, that on 
 the following Saturday he might expect to receive himself 
 and family, intending to leave the Hall in the afternoon of 
 the preceding day, and reach Benfteld Lodge to dinner. 
 This arrangement once made, and Mr. Benfield notified of 
 it, was unalterable, the old man holding a variation from 
 an engagement a deadly sin. The week succeeding the 
 accident which had nearly proved so fatal to Denbigh, the 
 inhabitants of the Hall were surprised with the approach 
 
PRECA UTfOJV. 125 
 
 of a being, as singular in his manners and dress as the 
 equipage which conveyed him to the door of the house. 
 The latter consisted of a high-backed, old-fashioned sulky, 
 loaded with leather and large-headed brass nails; wheels 
 at least a quarter larger in circumference than those of the 
 present day, and wings on each side large enough to have 
 supported a full grown roc in the highest regions of the 
 upper air. It was drawn by a horse, once white, but 
 whose milky hue was tarnished through age with large 
 and numerous red spots, and whose mane and tail did not 
 appear to have suffered by the shears during the present 
 reign. The being who alighted from this antiquated ve- 
 hicle was tall and excessively thin, w r ore his own hair drawn 
 over his almost naked head into a long thin queue, which 
 reached half-way down his back, closely cased in numerous 
 windings of leather, or the skin of some fish. His drab 
 coat was in shape between a frock and a close-body 
 close-body, indeed, it was ; for the buttons, which were in 
 size about equal to an old-fashioned china saucer, were 
 buttoned to the very throat, thereby setting off his shape 
 to peculiar advantage; his breeches were buckskin, and 
 much soiled ; his stockings blue yarn, although it was 
 midsummer ; and his shoes were provided with buckles of 
 dimensions proportionate to the aforesaid- buttons ; his 
 age might have been seventy, but his walk was quick, and 
 the movements of his whole system showed great activity 
 both of mind and body. He was ushered into the room 
 where the gentlemen were sitting, and having made a 
 low and extremely modest bow, he deliberately put on 
 his spectacles, thrust his hand into an outside pocket 
 of his coat, and produced from under its huge flaps a 
 black leathern pocket-book about as large as a good- 
 sized octavo volume ; after examining the multitude of 
 papers it contained carefully, he selected a letter, and hav- 
 ing returned the pocket-book to its ample apartment, read 
 aloud : 
 
 "For Sir Edward Moseley, bart, of Moseley Hall, 
 
 B , Northamptonshire with care and speed, by the 
 
 hands of Mr. Peter Johnson, steward of Benfield Lodge, 
 Norfolk ;" and dropping his sharp voice, he stalked up to 
 the baronet, and presented the epistle, with another rev- 
 erence. 
 
 "Ah, my good friend, Johnson," said Sir Edward as 
 soon as he delivered his errand (for until he saw the con- 
 tents of the letter, he had thought some accident had oc- 
 
126 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 curred to his uncle), "this is the first visit you have ever 
 honored me with ; come, take a glass of wine before you go 
 to your dinner ; let us drink that it may not be the last." 
 
 "Sir Edward Moseley, and you, honorable gentlemen, 
 will pardon me," replied the steward, in his own solemn 
 key, " this is the first time I was ever out of his majesty's 
 county of Norfolk, and I devoutly wish it may prove the 
 last gentlemen, I drink your honorable healths." 
 
 This was the only real speech the old man made during 
 his visit, unless an occasional monosyllabic reply to a ques- 
 tion could be thought so. He remained, by Sir Edward's 
 positive order, until the following day ; for, having deliv- 
 ered his message, and receiving its answer, he was about 
 to take his departure that evening, thinking he might get 
 a good piece on his road homeward, as it wanted half an 
 hour to sunset. On the following morning, with the sun, 
 he was on his way to the house in which he had been born, 
 and which he had never left for twenty-four hours at a 
 time in his life. In the evening, as he was ushered in by 
 John (who had known him from his own childhood, and 
 loved to show him attention) to the room in which he was 
 to sleep, he broke what the young man called his inveter- 
 ate silence, with, "Young Mr. Moseley young gentleman 
 might I presume to ask to see the gentleman ?" 
 
 " What gentleman ? " cried John, astonished at the re- 
 quest, and at his speaking so much. 
 
 " That saved Miss Emmy's life, sir." 
 
 John now fully comprehended him, and led the way to 
 Denbigh's room ; he was asleep, but they were admitted to 
 his bedside. The steward stood for ten minutes gazing 
 on the sleeper in silence ; and John observed, as he blew 
 his nose on regaining his own apartment, that his little 
 gray eyes twinkled with a lustre which could not be taken 
 for anything but a tear. 
 
 As the letter was as characteristic of the writer as its 
 bearer was of his vocation, we may be excused giving it at 
 length. 
 
 " Dear Sir Edward and Nephew, 
 
 " Your letter reached the lodge too late to be answered 
 that evening, as I was about to step into my bed ; but I 
 hasten to write my congratulations, remembering the often 
 repeated maxim of my kinsman, Lord Gosford, that letters 
 should be answered immediately ; indeed, a neglect of it 
 had very nigh brought about an affair of honor between 
 
PRECA UTTON. 127 
 
 the earl and Sir Stephens Hallet. Sir Stephens was always 
 opposed to us in the House of Commons of this realm ; 
 and I have often thought something might have passed in 
 the debate itself, which commenced the correspondence, 
 as the earl certainly told him as much as if he were a 
 traitor to his king and country. 
 
 11 But it seems that your daughter Emily has been res- 
 cued from death by the grandson of General Denbigh, who 
 sat with us in the house. Now I always had a good opin- 
 ion of this young Denbigh, who reminds me every time I 
 look at him, of my late brother, your father-in-law that 
 was ; and I send my steward, Peter Johnson, express to the 
 Hall, in order that he may see the sick man, and bring me 
 back a true account how he fares ; for, should he be want- 
 ing for anything within the gift of Roderic Benfield, he 
 has only to speak to have it ; not that I suppose, nephew, 
 you will willingly allow him to suffer for anything, but 
 Peter is a man of close observation although he is of few 
 words, and may suggest some thing beneficial that might 
 escape younger heads. I pray for that is, I hope, the 
 young man will recover, as your letter gives great hopes ; 
 and if he should want any little matter to help him 
 along in the army, as I take it he is not over wealthy, 
 you have now a good opportunity to offer your assist- 
 ance handsomely ; and, that it may not interfere with 
 your arrangements for this winter, your draft on me 
 for five thousand pounds will be paid at sight ; for fear he 
 may be proud, and not choose to accept your assistance, I 
 have this morning detained Peter, while he has put a codi- 
 cil in my will, leaving him ten thousand pounds. You may 
 tell Emily she is a naughty child, or she would have writ- 
 ten me the whole story ; but, poor dear, I suppose she has 
 other things on her mind just now. God bless Mr. - 
 that is, God bless you all, and try if you cannot get a lieu- 
 tenant-colonelcy at once the brother of Lady Juliana's 
 friend was made a lieutenant-colonel at the first step. 
 
 " RODERIC BENFIELD." 
 
 The result of Peter's reconnoitring expedition has never 
 reached our knowledge, unless the arrival of a servant, 
 some days after he took his leave, with a pair of enormous 
 goggles, and which the old gentleman assured his nephew 
 in a note, both Peter and himself had found useful to 
 weak eyes in their occasional sickness, might have been 
 owing to the prudent forecast of the sagacious steward. 
 
128 PRKCA UTIO.V. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE morning on which Denbigh left B was a mel- 
 ancholy one to all the members of the little circle, in 
 which he had been so distinguished for his modesty, his 
 intelligence, and his disinterested intrepidity. Sir Edward 
 took an opportunity solemnly to express his gratitude for 
 the services he had rendered him, and, having retired to 
 his library, delicately and earnestly pressed his availing 
 himself of the liberal offer of Mr. Benfield to advance his 
 interests in the army. 
 
 " Look upon me, my dear Mr. Denbigh," said the good 
 baronet, pressing him by the hand, while the tears stood 
 in his eyes, " as a father, to supply the place of the one 
 you have so recently lost. You are my child ; I feel as a 
 parent to you, and must be suffered to act as one." 
 
 To this affectionate offer of Sir Edward, Denbigh re- 
 plied with an emotion equal to that of the baronet, though 
 he declined with respectful language, his offered assist- 
 ance, as unnecessary. He had friends powerful enough to 
 advance his interests, without resorting to the use of 
 money ; and, on taking Sir Edward's hand, as he left the 
 apartment, he added, with great warmth, " yet, my dear 
 sir, the day will come, I hope, when I shall ask a boon 
 from your hands, that no act of mine or a life of service 
 could entitle me to receive." 
 
 The baronet smiled his assent to a request he already 
 understood, and Denbigh withdrew. 
 
 John Moseley insisted on putting the bays in requisition 
 to carry Denbigh for the first stage, and they now stood 
 caparisoned for the jaunt, with their master in a less joy- 
 ous mood than common, waiting the appearance of his 
 companion. 
 
 Emily delighted in their annual excursion to Benfield 
 Lodge. She was beloved so warmly, and returned the 
 affection of its owner so sincerely, that the arrival of the 
 day never failed to excite that flow of spirits which gener- 
 ally accompanies anticipated pleasures, ere experience 
 has proved how trifling are the greatest enjoyments the 
 scenes of this life bestow. Yet, as the day of their depart- 
 ure drew near, her spirits sunk in proportion ; and, on 
 the morning of Denbigh's leave-taking, Emily seemed any- 
 thing but excessively happy. There was a tremor in her 
 
PRECA UTION. 129 
 
 voice and a redness in her eyes that alarmed Lady Mose- 
 ley ; but, as the paleness of her cheeks was immediately 
 succeeded by as fine a color as the heart could wish, the 
 anxious mother allowed herself to be persuaded by Mrs. 
 Wilson there was no danger, and she accompanied her sis- 
 ter to her own room for some purpose of domestic econo- 
 my. It was at this moment Denbigh entered ; he had 
 paid his adieus to the matrons at the door, and been 
 directed by them to the little parlor in quest of Emily. 
 
 " I have come to make my parting compliments, Miss 
 Moseley," he said, in a tremulous voice, as he ventured to 
 hold forth his hand. " May heaven preserve you," he con- 
 tinued, holding it in fervor to his bosom ; then dropping 
 it he hastily retired, as if unwilling to trust himself any 
 longer to utter all he felt. Emily stood a few mo- 
 ments, pale and almost inanimate, as the tears flowed rap- 
 idly from her eyes ; and then she sought a shelter in a 
 seat of the window. Lady Moseley, on returning, was 
 alarmed lest the draught would increase her indisposition ; 
 but her sister, observing that the window commanded a 
 view of the road, thought the air too mild to do her in- 
 jury. 
 
 The personages who composed the society at B 
 had now, in a great measure, separated, in pursuit of their 
 duties or their pleasures. The merchant and his family 
 left the Deanery for a watering-place. Francis and Clara 
 had gone on a little tour of pleasure in the northern coun- 
 ties, to take L in their return homeward ; and the 
 
 morning arrived for the commencement of the baronet's 
 journey to the same place. The carriages had been or- 
 dered, and servants were running in various ways, busily 
 employed in their several occupations, when Mrs. Wilson, 
 accompanied by John and his sisters, returned from a 
 walk they had taken to avoid the bustle of the house. A 
 short distance from the park gates, an equipage was ob- 
 served approaching, creating by its numerous horses and 
 attendants a dust which drove the pedestrians to one side 
 of the road. An uncommonly elegant and admirably fit- 
 ted travelling barouche and six rolled by, with the grace- 
 ful steadiness of an English equipage ; several servants on 
 horseback were in attendance ; our little party were struck 
 with the beauty of the whole establishment. 
 
 " Can it be possible Lord Bolton drives such elegant 
 horses ? " cried John, with the ardor of a connoisseur in that 
 noble animal. "They arc the finest set in the kingdom." 
 
1 3 o PRECA UTION. 
 
 Jane's eyes had seen, through the clouds of dust, the 
 armorial bearings, which seemed to float in the dark glossy 
 panels of the carriage, and she observed, " It is an earl's 
 coronet, but they are not the Bolton arms." Mrs. Wilson 
 and Emily had noticed a gentleman reclining at his ease, 
 as the owner of the gallant show ; but its passage was too 
 rapid to enable them to distinguish the features of the 
 courteous old earl ; indeed, Mrs. Wilson remarked, she 
 thought him a younger man than her friend. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said John to a tardy groom, as he civilly 
 walked his horse by the ladies, "who has passed in the 
 barouche ? " 
 
 " My Lord Pendennyss, sir." 
 
 " Pendennyss ? " exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with a tone of 
 regret, " how unfortunate ! " 
 
 She had seen the day named for his visit pass without 
 his arrival, and now, as it was too late to profit by the op- 
 portunity, he had come for the second time into her 
 neighborhood. Emily had learnt, by the solicitude of her 
 aunt, to take an interest in the young peer's movements, 
 and desired John to ask a question or two of the groom. 
 
 " Where does your lord stop to-night ?" 
 
 " At Bolton Castle, sir ; and I heard my lord tell his valet 
 that he intended staying one day hereabouts, and the day 
 after to-morrow he goes to Wales, your honor." 
 
 " I thank you, friend," said John ; when the man spurred 
 his horse after the cavalcade. The carriages were at the 
 door, and Sir Edward had been hurrying Jane to enter, as 
 a servant in a rich livery and well mounted, galloped up 
 and delivered a letter for Mrs. Wilson, who, on opening it, 
 read the following : 
 
 " The Earl of Pendennyss begs leave to present his most 
 respectful compliments to Mrs. Wilson and the family of 
 Sir Edward Moseley. Lord Pendennyss will have the 
 honor of paying his respects in person at any moment that 
 the widow of his late invaluable friend, Lieutenant-General 
 Wilson, will please to appoint. 
 
 " Bolton Castle, Friday evening." 
 
 To this note Mrs. Wilson, bitterly regretting the neces- 
 sity which compelled her to forego the pleasure of meeting 
 her paragon, wrote in reply a short letter, disliking the 
 formality of a note. 
 
PRECA UTION. 13! 
 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " I sincerely regret that an engagement which cannot be 
 postponed compels us to leave Moseley Hall within the 
 hour, and must, in consequence, deprive us of the pleasure 
 of your intended visit. But as circumstances have con- 
 nected your lordship with some of the dearest, although 
 the most melancholy events of my life, I earnestly beg you 
 will no longer consider us as strangers to your person, as 
 we have long ceased to be to your character. It will afford 
 me the greatest pleasure to hear that there will be a pros- 
 pect of our meeting in town next winter, where I may find 
 a more fitting opportunity of expressing those grateful 
 feelings so long due to your lordship from your sincere 
 friend, CHARLOTTE WILSON. 
 
 " Moseley Hall, Friday morning." 
 
 With this answer the servant was dispatched, and the car- 
 riages moved on. John had induced Emily to trust herself 
 once more to the bays and his skill ; but, on perceiving the 
 melancholy of her aunt, she insisted on exchanging seats 
 with Jane, who had accepted a place in the carnage of 
 Mrs. Wilson. No objection being made, Mrs. Wilson and 
 her niece rode the first afternoon together in her travel- 
 ling chaise. The road runs within a quarter of a mile of 
 Bolton Castle, and the ladies endeavored in vain to get a 
 glimpse of the person of the young nobleman. Emily was 
 willing to gratify her aunt's propensity to dwell on the char- 
 acter and history of her favorite ; and hoping to withdraw 
 her attention gradually from more unpleasant recollections, 
 asked several trifling questions relating to those points. 
 
 "The earl must be very rich, aunt, from the style he 
 maintains." 
 
 " Very, my dear ; his family I am unacquainted with, 
 but I understand his title is an extremely ancient one ; and 
 some one, I believe Lord Bolton, mentioned that his es- 
 tates in Wales alone exceeded fifty thousand a year." 
 
 " Much good might be done," said Emily, thoughtfully, 
 "with such a fortune." 
 
 " Much good is done," cried her aunt, with fervor. " I 
 am told by every one who knows him, his donations are 
 large and frequent. Sir Herbert Nicholson said he was 
 extremely simple in his habits, and it leaves large sums at 
 his disposal every year." 
 
 "The bestowal of money is not always charity," said 
 Emily, with an arch smile and a slight color, 
 
132 PRECA UTlOiV. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson smiled in her turn as she answered, "not 
 always, but it is charity to hope for the best." 
 
 " Sir Herbert knew him, then ? " said Emily. 
 
 " Perfectly well ; they were associated together in the 
 service for several years, and he spoke of him with a fervor 
 equal to my warmest expectations." 
 
 The Moseley Arms in F was kept by an old butler 
 
 of the family, and Sir Edward every year, in going to or 
 
 coming from L , spent a night under its roof. He was 
 
 received by its master with a respect that none who ever 
 knew the baronet well, could withhold from his goodness 
 of heart and many virtues. 
 
 "Well, Jackson," said the baronet, kindly, as he was 
 seated at the supper-table, " how does custom increase with 
 you I hope you and the master of the Dun Cow are more 
 amicable than formerly ? " 
 
 "Why, Sir Edward," replied the host, who had lost a 
 little of the deference of the servant in the landlord, but 
 none of his real respect, "Mr. Daniels and I are more upon 
 a footing of late than we was, when your goodness en- 
 abled me to take the house; then he got all the great 
 travellers, and for more than a twelvemonth I had not a 
 title in my house but yourself and a great London doc- 
 tor that was called here to see a sick person in the town. 
 He had the impudence to call me the knight barrow- 
 knight, your honor, and we had a quarrel upon that ac- 
 count." 
 
 "I am glad, however, to find you are gaining in the 
 rank of your customers, and trust, as the occasion has 
 ceased, you will be more inclined to be good-natured to 
 each other." 
 
 "Why, as to good nature, Sir Edward, I lived-with your 
 honor ten years, and you must know somewhat of my 
 temper," said Jackson, with the self-satisfaction of an ap- 
 proving conscience ; " but Sam Daniels is a man who is 
 never easy unless he is left quietly at the top of the lad- 
 der ; however," continued the host, with a chuckle, "I 
 have given him a dose lately." 
 
 " How so, Jackson ? " inquired the baronet, willing to 
 gratify the man's wish to relate his triumphs. 
 
 "Your honor must have heard mention made of a great 
 lord, the Duke of Derwent ; well, Sir Edward, about six 
 weeks agone, he passed through with my Lord Chatterton." 
 
 " Chatterton !" exclaimed John, interrupting him, "has 
 he been so near us again, and so lately ? " 
 
PR EC A UTION'. 133 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Moseley," replied Jackson, with a look of 
 importance ; "they dashed into my yard with their chaise 
 and four, with five servants, and would you think it, Sir 
 Edward, they hadn't been in the house ten minutes, be- 
 fore Daniel's son was fishing from the servants who they 
 were ; I told him, Sir Edward dukes don't come every 
 day." 
 
 " How came you to get his grace away from the Dun 
 Cow chance ? " 
 
 " No, your honor," said the host, pointing to his sign, 
 and bowing reverently to his old master, "the Moseley 
 Arms did it. Mr. Daniels used to taunt me with having 
 worn a livery, and has said more than once he could milk 
 his cow, but that your honor's arms would never lift me 
 into a comfortable seat for life ; so I just sent him a mes- 
 sage by the way of letting him know my good fortune, 
 your honor." 
 
 "And what was it ?" 
 
 " Only that your honor's arms had shoved a duke and 
 a baron into my house that's all." 
 
 "And I suppose Daniels' legs shoved your messenger 
 out of his," said John, laughing. 
 
 " No, Mr. Moseley ; Daniels would hardly dare do that : 
 but yesterday, your honor, yesterday evening, beat every- 
 thing. Daniels was seated before his door, and I was tak- 
 ing a pipe at mine, Sir Edward, as a coach and six, with 
 servants upon servants, drove down the street ; it got near 
 us, and the boys were reining the horses into the yard of 
 the Dun Cow, as the gentleman in the coach saw my sign; 
 he sent a groom to inquire who kept the house ; I got up, 
 your honor, and told him my name, sir. ' Mr. Jackson,' 
 said his lordship, ' my respect for the family of Sir Edward 
 Moseley is too great not to give my custom to an old ser- 
 vant of his family.' " 
 
 " Indeed," said the baronet ; "pray, who was my lord ?" 
 
 "The Earl of Pendennyss, your honor. Oh, he is a 
 sweet gentleman, and he asked all about my living with 
 your honor, and about Madam Wilson." 
 
 "Did his lordship stay the night?" inquired Mrs. Wil- 
 son, excessively gratified at a discovery of the disposition 
 manifested by the earl toward her. 
 
 " Yes, madam, he left here after breakfast." 
 
 "What message did you send the Dun Cow this time, 
 Jackson ?" cried John. 
 
 Jackson looked a little foolish, but the question being 
 
134 PRECA UTION. 
 
 repeated, be answered " Why, sir, I was a little crowded 
 for room, and so, your honor, so I just sent Tom across 
 the street to know if Mr. Daniels couldn't keep a couple 
 of the grooms." 
 
 " And Tom got his head broke ? " 
 
 " No, Mr. John, the tankard missed him ; but if" 
 
 " Very well," said the baronet, willing to change the 
 conversation, " you have been so fortunate of late, you can 
 afford to be generous ; and I advise you to cultivate har- 
 mony with your neighbor, or I may take my arms down, 
 and you may lose your noble visitors see my room pre- 
 pared." 
 
 " Yes, your honor," said the host, and bowing respect- 
 fully he withdrew. 
 
 " At least, aunt," cried John, pleasantly, " we have the 
 pleasure of supping in the same room with the puissant 
 earl, albeit there be twenty-four hours' difference in the 
 time." 
 
 " I sincerely wish there had not been that difference," 
 observed his father, taking his sister kindly by the hand. 
 
 " Such an equipage must have been a harvest indeed to 
 Jackson," remarked the mother, as they broke up for the 
 evening. 
 
 The whole establishment at Benfield Lodge were drawn 
 up to receive them on the following day in the great hall, 
 and in the centre was fixed the upright and lank figure of 
 its master, with his companion in leanness, honest Peter 
 Johnson, on his right. 
 
 " I have made out, Sir Edward and my Lady Moseley, 
 to get as far as my entrance, to receive the favor you are 
 conferring upon me. It was a rule in my day, and one in- 
 variably practised by all the great nobility, such as Lord 
 Gosford and and his sister, the Lady Juliana Dayton, 
 always to receive and quit their guests in the country at 
 the great entrance ; and in conformity ah, Emmy, dear," 
 cried the old gentleman, folding her in his arms, as the 
 tears rolled down his cheeks, forgetting his speech in the 
 warmth of his feeling, " You are saved to us again ; God 
 be praised there, that will do, let me breathe let me 
 breathe ; " and then, by the way of getting rid of his softer 
 feelings, he turned upon John ; " So, youngster, you would 
 be playing with edge tools, and put the life of your sister 
 in danger. No gentleman held a gun in my day ; that is, 
 no gentleman about the court. My Lord Gosford had 
 never killed a bird in his life ? or drove his horse ; no, sir, 
 
PR EC A UT1ON. 135 
 
 gentlemen then were not coachmen. Peter, how old was 
 I before I took the reins of the chaise, in driving round 
 the estate the time you broke your arm ? it was " 
 
 Peter, who stood a little behind his master, in modest 
 retirement, and who had only thought his elegant form 
 brought thither to embellish the show, when called upon, 
 advanced a step, made a low bow, and answered in his 
 sharp key : 
 
 " In the year 1798, your honor, and the 38th of his pres- 
 ent majesty, and the 64th year of your life, sir, June the 
 1 2th, about meridian." 
 
 Peter dropped back as he finished ; but recollecting him- 
 self, regained his place with a bow, as he added, "new style." 
 
 " How are you, old style ? " cried John, with a slap on 
 the back that made the steward jump again. 
 
 " Mr. John Moseley young gentleman" a term Peter 
 had left off using to the baronet within the last ten years, 
 "did you think to bring home the goggles ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said John, gravely, producing them from his 
 pocket. Most of the party having entered the parlor, he 
 put them carefully on the bald head of the steward 
 " There, Mr. Peter Johnson, you have your property again, 
 safe and sound." 
 
 " And Mr. Denbigh said he felt much indebted to your 
 consideration in sending them," said Emily, soothingly, as 
 she took them off with her beautiful hands. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Emmy," said the steward, with one of his 
 best bows, " that was a noble act ; God bless him ! " then 
 holding up his finger significantly, " the fourteenth codicil 
 to master's will," and Peter laid his finger alongside his 
 nose, as he nodded his head in silence. 
 
 " I hope the thirteenth contains the name of honest 
 Peter Johnson," said the young lady, who felt herself un- 
 commonly well pleased with the steward's conversation. 
 
 " As witness, Miss Emmy witness to all but God for- 
 bid," said the steward with solemnity, " I should ever live 
 to see the proving of them: no, Miss Emmy, master has 
 done for me what he intended, while I had youth to enjoy 
 it. I am rich, Miss Emmy good three hundred a year." 
 
 Emily, who had seldom heard so long a speech as the 
 old man's gratitude drew from him, expressed her pleasure 
 at. hearing it, and shaking him kindly by the hand, left 
 him for the parlor. 
 
 "Niece," said Mr. Benfield, having scanned the party 
 closely with his eyes, " where is Colonel Denbigh ? " 
 
136 PKECA UTION. 
 
 "Colonel Egerton, you mean, sir,* 1 interrupted Lady 
 Moseley. 
 
 "No, my Lady Moseley," replied her uncle, with great 
 formality, " I mean Colonel Denbigh. I take it he is a 
 colonel by this time," looking expressively at the baronet ; 
 "and who is fitter to be a colonel or a general than a man 
 who is not afraid of gunpowder ?" 
 
 "Colonels must have been scarce in your youth, sir,' 
 cried John, who had rather a mischievous propensity to 
 start the old man on his hobby. 
 
 "No, jackanapes, gentlemen killed one another then, al- 
 though they did not torment the innocent birds : honor 
 was as dear to a gentleman of George the Second's court 
 as to those of his grandson's, and honesty, too, sirrah 
 aye, honesty. I remember when we were in, there was 
 not a man of doubtful integrity in the ministry, or on our 
 side even ; and then again, when we went out, the opposi- 
 tion benches were filled with sterling characters, making a 
 parliament that was correct throughout. Can you show 
 me such a thing at this day ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A FEW days after the arrival of the Moseleys at the 
 
 lodge, John drove his sisters to the little village of L , 
 
 which at that time was thronged with an unusual number 
 of visitors. It had, among other fashionable arrangements 
 for the accommodation of its guests, one of those circula- 
 tors of good and evil, a public library. Books are, in a 
 great measure, the instruments of controlling the opinions 
 of a nation like ours. They are an engine, alike powerful 
 to save or to destroy. It cannot be denied that our libra- 
 ries contain as many volumes of the latter as the former 
 description ; for we rank among the latter that long cata- 
 logue of idle productions, which, if they produce no other 
 evil, lead to the misspending of time, our own perhaps in- 
 cluded. But we cannot refrain expressing our regret, that 
 such formidable weapons in the cause of morality, should 
 be suffered to be wielded by any indifferent or mercenary 
 dealer, who undoubtedly will consult rather the public 
 tastes than the private good: the evil may be remediless, 
 yet we love to express our sentiments, though we should 
 suggest nothing new or even profitable. Into one of these 
 
PRECA UTION. 137 
 
 haunts of the idle, then, John Moseley entered, with a lovely 
 sister leaning on either arm. Books were the entertainers of 
 Jane, and instructors of Emily. Sir Edward was fond of 
 reading of a certain sort that which required no great depth 
 of thought, or labor of research ; and, like most others 
 who are averse to contention, and disposed to be easily 
 satisfied, the baronet sometimes found he had harbored 
 opinions on things not exactly reconcilable with the truth, 
 or even with each other. It is quite as dangerous to give up 
 your faculties to the guidance of the author you are perus- 
 ing, as it is unprofitable to be captiously scrutinizing every 
 syllable he may happen to advance ; and Sir Edward was, 
 if anything, a little inclined to the dangerous propensity. 
 Unpleasant Sir Edward Moseley never was. Lady Moseley 
 very seldom took a book in her hand: her opinions were 
 established to her own satisfaction on all important points, 
 and on the minor ones she made it a rule to coincide with 
 the popular feeling. Jane had a mind more active than 
 her father, and more brilliant than her mother ; and if she 
 had not imbibed injurious impressions from the unlicensed 
 and indiscriminate reading she practised, it was more 
 owing to the fortunate circumstance, that the baronet's 
 library contained nothing extremely offensive to a pure 
 taste, nor dangerous to good morals, than to any precau- 
 tion of her parents against the deadly, the irretrievable in- 
 jury to be sustained from ungoverned liberty in this re- 
 spect, to a female mind. On the other hand, Mrs. Wilson 
 had inculcated the necessity of restraint, in selecting the 
 books for her perusal, so strenuously on her niece, tha" 
 what at first had been the effects of obedience and sub- 
 mission, had now settled into taste and habit ; and Emily 
 seldom opened a book, unless in search of information ; 
 or if it were the indulgence of a less commendable spirit, 
 it was an indulgence chastened by a taste and judgment 
 that lessened the danger, if it did not entirely remove it. 
 
 The room was filled with gentlemen and ladies ; and, 
 while John was exchanging his greetings with several of 
 the neighboring gentry of his acquaintance, his sisters were 
 running hastily over a catalogue of the books kept for cir- 
 culation, as an elderly lady, of foreign accent and dress, 
 entered ; and, depositing a couple of religious works on 
 the counter, she inquired for the remainder of the set. The 
 peculiarity of her idiom and her proximity to the sisters 
 caused them both to look up at the moment, and, to the 
 surprise of Jane, her sister uttered a slight exclamation of 
 
/3S PR EC A UTION. 
 
 pleasure. The foreigner was attracted by the sound, and, 
 after a moment's hesitation, she respectfully courtesied. 
 Emily, advancing, kindly offered her hand, and the usual 
 inquiries after each other's welfare succeeded. To the 
 questions asked after the friend of the matron, Emily 
 learned, with some surprise, and no less satisfaction, that 
 
 she resided in a retired cottage, about five miles from L , 
 
 where they had been for the last six months, and where 
 they expected to remain for some time, "until she could 
 prevail on Mrs. Fitzgerald to return to Spain ; a thing, 
 now there was peace, of which she did not despair." After 
 asking leave to call on them in their retreat, and exchang- 
 ing good wishes, the Spanish lady withdrew, and, as Jane 
 had made her selection, was followed immediately by John 
 Moseley and his sisters. Emily, in their walk home, ac- 
 quainted her brother that the companion of their Bath 
 incognita had been at the library, and that for the first 
 time she had learned that their young acquaintance was, 
 or had been, married, and her name. John listened to his 
 sister with the interest which the beautiful Spaniard had 
 excited at the time they first met, and laughingly told her 
 he could not believe their unknown friend had ever been 
 a wife. To satisfy this doubt, and to gratify a wish they 
 both had to renew their acquaintance with the foreigner, 
 they agreed to drive to the cottage the following morning, 
 accompanied by Mrs. Wilson and Jane, if she would go ; 
 but the next day was the one appointed by Egerton for his 
 arrival at L , and Jane, under a pretence of writing let- 
 ters, declined the excursion. She had carefully examined 
 the papers since his departure ; had seen his name included 
 in the arrivals at London ; and, at a later day, had read an 
 account of the review by the commander-in-chief of the 
 regiment to which he belonged. He had never written to 
 any of her friends ; but, judging from her own feelings, 
 she did not in the least doubt he would be as punctual as 
 love could make him. Mrs. Wilson listened to her niece's 
 account of the unexpected interview in the library with 
 pleasure, and cheerfully promised to accompany them in 
 their morning's excursion, as she had both a wish to alle- 
 viate sorrow, and a desire to better understand the character 
 of this accidental acquaintance of Emily's. 
 
 Mr. Benfield and the baronet had a long conversation in 
 relation to Denbigh's fortune the morning after their arri- 
 val ; and the old man was loud in his expression of dissat' 
 isfaction at the youngster's pride. As the baronet, how- 
 
139 
 
 ever, in the fulness of his affection and simplicity, betrayed 
 to his uncle his expectation of a union between Denbigh 
 and his daughter, Mr. Benfield became contented with his 
 reward ; one fit, he thought, for any services. On the 
 whole, " it was best, as he was to marry Emmy, he should 
 sell out of the army ; and, as there would be an election 
 soon, he would bring him into parliament yes yes it 
 did a man so much good to sit one term in the parliament 
 of this realm to study human nature. All his own knowl- 
 edge in that way was raised on the foundations laid in the 
 House." To this Sir Edward cordially assented, and the 
 gentlemen separated, happy in their arrangements to ad- 
 vance the welfare of two beings they so sincerely loved. 
 
 Although the care and wisdom of Mrs. Wilson had pro- 
 hibited the admission of any romantic or enthusiastic ex- 
 pectations of happiness into the day-dreams of her charge, 
 yet the buoyancy of health, of hope, of youth, of inno- 
 cence, had elevated Emily to a height of enjoyment hith- 
 erto unknown to her usually placid and disciplined pleas- 
 ures. Denbigh certainly mingled in most of her thoughts, 
 both of the past and the future, and she stood on the 
 threshold of that fantastic edifice in which Jane ordinarily 
 resided. Emily was in the situation perhaps the most dan- 
 gerous to a young female Christian : her heart, her affec- 
 tions, were given to a man, to appearance, every way 
 worthy qf possessing them, it is true ; but she had admit- 
 ted a rival in her love to her Maker ; and to keep those 
 feelings distinct, to bend the passions in due submission to 
 the more powerful considerations of endless duty of un- 
 bounded gratitude, is one of the most trying struggles of 
 Christian fortitude. We are much more apt to forget our 
 God in prosperity than adversity. The weakness of human 
 nature drives us to seek assistance in distress ; but vanity 
 and worldly-mindedness often induce us to imagine we 
 control the happiness we only enjoy. 
 
 Sir Edward and Lady Moseley could see nothing in the 
 prospect of the future but lives of peace and contentment 
 for their children. Clara was happily settled, and her sis- 
 ters were on the eve of making connections with men of 
 family, condition, and certain character. What more could 
 be done for them ? They must, like other people, take 
 their chances in the lottery of life ; they could only hope 
 and pray for their prosperity, and this they did with great 
 sincerity. Not so Mrs. Wilson ; she had guarded the in- 
 valuable charge intrusted to her keeping with too much 
 
140 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 assiduity, too keen an interest, too just a sense of the awful 
 responsibility she had undertaken, to desert her post at the 
 moment watchfulness was most required. By a temperate, 
 but firm and well-chosen conversation she kept alive the 
 sense of her real condition in her niece, and labored hard 
 to prevent the blandishments of life from supplanting the 
 lively hope of enjoying another existence. She endeavored, 
 by her pious example, her prayers, and her judicious allu- 
 sions, to keep the passion of love in the breast of Emily 
 secondary to the more important object of her creation ; 
 and by the aid of a kind and Almighty Providence, her la- 
 bors, though arduous, were crowned with success. 
 
 As the family were seated round the table after dinner, 
 on the day of their walk to the library, John Moseley, 
 awakening from a reverie, exclaimed suddenly, 
 
 "Which do you think the handsomest, Emily Grace 
 Chatterton or Miss Fitzgerald ? " 
 
 Emily laughed, as she answered, " Grace, certainly ; do 
 you not think so, brother?" 
 
 " Yes, on the whole ; but don't you think Grace looks 
 like her mother at times ? " 
 
 " Oh no, she is the image of Chatterton." 
 
 11 She is very like yourself, Emmy dear," said Mr. Ben- 
 field, who was listening to their conversation. 
 
 " Me, dear uncle ? I have never heard it remarked 
 before." 
 
 " Yes, yes, she is as much like you as she can stare. I 
 never saw as great a resemblance, excepting between you 
 and Lady Juliana Lady Juliana, Emmy, was a beauty in 
 her day ; very like her uncle, old Admiral Griffin you 
 can't remember the admiral he lost an eye in a battle 
 with the Dutch, and part of his cheek in a frigate, when a 
 young man fighting the Dons. Oh, he was a pleasant old 
 gentleman ; many a guinea has he given me when I was a 
 boy at school." 
 
 " And he looked like Grace Chatterton, uncle, did he ? " 
 asked John, innocently. 
 
 " No, sir, he did not ; who said he looked liked Grace 
 Chatterton, jackanapes ?*' 
 
 " Why, I thought you made it out, sir : but perhaps it 
 was the description that deceived me his eye and cheek, 
 uncle." 
 
 "Did Lord Gosford leave children, uncle ?" inquired 
 Emily, throwing a look of reproach at John. 
 
 "No, Emmy dear ; his only child, a son, died at school 
 
PRECA UTION. I 4I 
 
 I shall never forget the grief of poor Lady Juliana. She 
 postponed a visit to Bath three weeks on account of it. A 
 gentleman who was paying his addresses to her at the time, 
 offered then, and was refused indeed, her self-denial 
 raised such an admiration of her in the men, that immedi- 
 ately after the death of young Lord Dayton, no less than 
 seven gentlemen offered, and were refused in one week. I 
 heard Lady Juliana say, that what between lawyers and 
 suitors, she had not a moment's peace." 
 
 " Lawyers ? " cried Sir Edward : " what had she to do 
 with lawyers ? " 
 
 " Why, Sir Edward, six thousand a year fell to her by 
 the death of her nephew ; and there were trustees and 
 deeds to be made out poor young woman, she was so 
 affected, Emmy, I don't think she went out for a week- 
 all the time at home reading papers, and attending to her 
 important concerns. Oh ! she was a woman of taste ; her 
 mourning, and liveries, and new carriage, were more ad- 
 mired than those of any one about the court. Yes, yes, 
 the title is extinct ; I know of none of the name now. 
 The earl did not survive his loss but six years, and the 
 countess died broken-hearted, about a twelvemonth before 
 him." 
 
 " And Lady Juliana, uncle," inquired John, " what be- 
 came of her ; did she marry ? " 
 
 The old man helped himself to a glass of wine, and 
 looked over his shoulder to see if Peter was at hand. 
 Peter, who had been originally butler, and had made it a 
 condition of his preferment, that whenever there was com- 
 pany, he should be allowed to preside at the sideboard, 
 was now at his station. Mr. Benfield, seeing his old friend 
 near him, ventured to talk on a subject he seldom trusted 
 himself with in company. 
 
 " Why, yes yes she did marry, it's true, although she 
 did tell me she intended to die a maid ; but hem I sup- 
 pose hem it was compassion for the old viscount, who 
 often said he could not live without her ; and then it gave 
 her the power of doing so much good, a jointure of five 
 thousand a year added to her own income : yet hem I 
 do confess I did not think she would have chosen such an 
 old and infirm man but, Peter, give me a glass of claret." 
 Peter handed the claret, and the old man proceeded : 
 " They say he was very cross to her, and that, no doubt, 
 must have made her unhappy, she was so very tender- 
 hearted." 
 
1 4 2 PRECA UTION. 
 
 How much longer the old gentleman would have con- 
 tinued in this strain, it is impossible to say ; but he was 
 interrupted by the opening of the parlor door, and the 
 sudden appearance on its threshold of Denbigh. Every 
 countenance glowed with pleasure at this unexpected re- 
 turn of their favorite ; and but for the prudent caution of 
 Mrs. Wilson, in handing a glass of water to her niece, 
 the surprise might have proved too much for her. The 
 salutations of Denbigh were returned by the different 
 members of the family with a cordiality that must have 
 told him how much he was valued by all its branches ; and 
 after briefly informing them that his interview was over, 
 and that he had thrown himself into a chaise and travelled 
 post until he had rejoined them, he took his seat by Mr. 
 Benfield, who received him with a marked preference, 
 exceeding that which he had shown to any man who had 
 ever entered his doors, Lord Gosford himself not excepted. 
 Peter removed from his station behind his master's chair 
 to one where he could face the new comer ; and after 
 wiping his eyes until they filled so rapidly with water that 
 at last he was noticed by the delighted John to put on the 
 identical goggles which his care had provided for Denbigh 
 in his illness, his laugh drew the attention of the rest to 
 the honest steward, and when Denbigh was told this was 
 Mr. Benfield's ambassador to the Hall, he rose from his 
 chair, and taking the old man by the hand, kindlv thanked 
 him for his thoughtful consideration for his weak eyes. 
 
 Peter took the offered hand in both his own, and after 
 making one or two unsuccessful efforts to speak, he ut- 
 tered, " Thank you, thank you ! may Heaven bless you," 
 and burst into tears. This stopped the laugh, and 'John 
 followed the steward from the room, while his master ex- 
 claimed, wiping his eyes, " Kind and condescending ; just 
 such another as my old friend, the Earl of Gosford." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 AT the appointed hour, the carriage of Mrs. Wilson was 
 ready to convey herself and niece to the cottage of Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald. John was left behind, under the pretence of 
 keeping Denbigh company in his morning avocations, but 
 really because Mrs. Wilson doubted the propriety of his 
 
PRECA UTION. 143 
 
 becoming a visiting acquaintance at the house, tenanted as 
 the cottage was represented to be. John was too fond of 
 his friend to make any serious objections, and was satis- 
 fied for the present by sending his compliments, and 
 requesting his sister to ask permission for him to call in 
 one of his morning excursions, in order to pay his personal 
 respects. 
 
 They found the cottage a beautiful and genteel, though 
 a very small and retired dwelling, almost hid by the trees 
 and shrubs which surrounded it, and its mistress in its little 
 veranda, expecting the arrival of Emily. Mrs. Fitzgerald 
 was a Spaniard, under twenty, of a melancholy, yet highly 
 interesting countenance ; her manners were soft and re- 
 tiring, but evidently bore the impression of good company, 
 if not of high life. She was extremely pleased with this 
 renewal of attention on the part of Emily, and expressed 
 her gratitude to both ladies for their kindness in seeking 
 her out in her solitude. She presented her more matronly 
 companion to them, by the name of Donna Lorenza ; and 
 as nothing but good feeling prevailed, and useless cere- 
 mony was banished, the little party were soon on terms of 
 friendly intercourse. The young widow (for such her 
 dress indicated her to be) did the honors of her house 
 with graceful ease, and conducted her visitors into her 
 little grounds, which, together with the cottage, gave evi- 
 dent proofs of the taste and elegance of its occupant. The 
 establishment she supported she represented as very small ; 
 two women and an aged man servant, with occasionally a 
 laborer for the garden and shrubbery. They never visited ; 
 it was a resolution she had made on fixing her residence 
 here, but if Mrs. Wilson and Miss Moseley would forgive 
 the rudeness of not returning their call, nothing would 
 give her more satisfaction than a frequent renewal of their 
 visits. Mrs. Wilson took so deep an interest in the mis- 
 fortunes of this young female, and was so much pleased 
 with the modest resignation of her manner, that it required 
 little persuasion on the part of the recluse to obtain a prom- 
 ise of soon repeating her visit. Emily mentioned the re- 
 quest of John, and Mrs. Fitzgerald received it with a 
 mournful smile, as she replied that Mr. Moseley had laid 
 her under such an obligation in their first interview, she 
 could not deny herself the pleasure of again thanking him 
 for it ; but she must be excused if she desired they would 
 limit their attendants to him, as there was but one gentle- 
 man in England whose visits she admitted, and it was sel* 
 
144 PRECA UTION-. 
 
 dom indeed he called ; he had seen her but once since she 
 had resided in Norfolk. 
 
 After giving a promise not to suffer any one else to ac- 
 company them, and promising an early call again, our 
 ladies returned to Benfield Lodge in season to dress for 
 dinner. On entering the drawing-room they found the 
 elegant person of Colonel Egerton leaning on the back 
 of Jane's chair. He had arrived during their absence, 
 and immediately sought the baronet's family. His recep- 
 tion, if not as warm as that given to Denbigh, was cordial 
 from all but the master of the house ; and even he was in 
 such spirits by the company around him, and the pros- 
 pects of Emily's marriage (which he considered as set- 
 tled), that he forced hiinself to an appearance of good- 
 will he did not feel. Colonel Egerton was either deceived 
 by his manner, or too much a man of the world to discov- 
 er his suspicion, and everything in consequence was very 
 harmoniously, if not sincerely, conducted between them. 
 
 Lady Moseley was completely happy. If she had the 
 least doubts before, as to the intentions of Egerton, they 
 were now removed. His journey to that unfashionable 
 watering-place was owing to his passion ; and however 
 she might at times have doubted as to Sir Edgar's heir, 
 Denbigh she thought a man of too little consequence in 
 the world, to make it possible he would neglect to profit 
 by his situation in the family of Sir Edward Moseley. 
 She was satisfied with both connections. Mr. Benfield 
 had told her General Sir Frederick Denbigh was nearly 
 allied to the Duke of Derwent, and Denbigh had said the 
 general was his grandfather. Wealth she knew Emily 
 would possess from both her uncle and aunt ; and the 
 services of the gentleman had their due weight upon the 
 feelings of the affectionate mother. The greatest of her 
 maternal anxieties was removed, and she looked forward 
 to the peaceful enjoyment of the remnant of her days in 
 the bosom of her descendants. John, the heir of a baron- 
 etcy and 15,000 pounds a year, might suit himself ; and 
 Grace Chatterton, she thought, would be likely to prove 
 the future Lady Moseley. Sir Edward, without entering 
 so deeply into anticipations of the future as his wife, ex- 
 perienced an equal degree of contentment ; and it would 
 have been a difficult task to discover in the island a roof, 
 under which there resided at the moment more happy 
 countenances than at Benfield Lodge ; for as its master 
 had insisted on Denbigh becoming an inmate, he was 
 
PR EC A UTION. 145 
 
 obliged to extend his hospitality in an equal degree tu 
 Colonel Egerton : indeed, the*subject had been fully can- 
 vassed between him and Peter the morning of his arrival, 
 and was near being decided against his admission, when 
 the steward, who had picked up all the incidents of the 
 arbor scene from the servants (and of course with many 
 exaggerations), mentioned to his master that the colonel 
 was very active, and that he even contrived to bring water 
 to revive Miss Emmy a great distance, in the hat of Cap- 
 tain Jarvis, which was full of holes, Mr. John having 
 blown it off the head of the captain without hurting a 
 hair, in firing at a woodcock. This mollified the master a 
 little, and he agreed to suspend his decision for further 
 observation. At dinner, the colonel happening to admire 
 the really handsome face of Lord Gosford, as delineated 
 by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which graced the dining-room of 
 Benfield Lodge, its master, in a moment of unusual kind- 
 ness, gave the invitation ; it was politely accepted, and 
 the colonel at once domesticated. 
 
 The face of John Moseley alone, at times, exhibited evi- 
 dences of care and thought, and at such moments it might 
 be a subject of doubt whether he thought the most of Grace 
 Chatterton or her mother : if the latter, the former was 
 sure to lose ground in his estimation ; a serious misfortune 
 to John, not to be able to love Grace without alloy. His 
 letters from her brother mentioned his being still at Den- 
 bigh Castle, in Westmoreland, the seat of his friend the 
 Duke of Derwent ; and John thought one or two of his 
 encomiums on Lady Harriet Denbigh, the sister of his 
 grace, augured that the unkindness of Emily might in 
 time be forgotten. The dowager and her daughters were 
 at the seat of a maiden aunt in Yorkshire, where, as John 
 knew no male animal was allowed admittance, he was tol- 
 erably easy at the disposition of things. Nothing but leg- 
 acy-hunting he knew would induce the dowager to submit 
 to such a banishment from the other sex ; but that was 
 so preferable to husband-hunting he was satisfied. " I 
 wish," said John, mentally, as he finished the perusal of 
 his letter, " mother Chatterton would get married herself, 
 and she might let Kate and Grace manage for themselves. 
 Kate would do very well, I dare say, and how would Grace 
 make out ! " John sighed, and whistled for Dido and 
 Rover. 
 
 In the manners of Colonel Egerton there was the same 
 general disposition to please, and the same unremitted at- 
 10 
 
I 4 6 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 tention to the wishes and amusements of Jane. They haa 
 renewed their poetical investigations, and Jane eagerly en- 
 couraged a taste whicli afforded her delicacy some little 
 coloring for the indulgence of an association different from 
 the real truth, and which, in her estimation, was necessary 
 to her happiness. Mrs. Wilson thought the distance be- 
 tween the two suitors for the favor of her nieces was, if 
 anything, increased by their short separation, and particu- 
 larly noticed on the part of the colonel an aversion to 
 Denbigh that at times painfully alarmed, by exciting ap- 
 prehensions for the future happiness of the precious treas- 
 ure she had prepared herself to yield to his solicitations, 
 whenever properly proffered. In the intercourse between 
 Emily and her preserver, as there was nothing to condemn, 
 so there was much to admire. The attentions of Denbigh 
 were pointed, although less exclusive than those of the 
 colonel : and the aunt was pleased to observe that if the 
 manners of Egerton had more of the gloss of life, those of 
 Denbigh were certainly distinguished by a more finished 
 delicacy and propriety. The one appeared the influence 
 of custom and association, with a tincture of artifice ; the 
 other, benevolence, with a just perception of what was due 
 to others, and with an air of sincerity, when speaking of 
 sentiments and principles, that was particularly pleasing 
 to the watchful widow. At times, however, she could not 
 but observe an air of restraint, if not of awkwardness, about 
 him that was a little surprising. It was most observable in 
 mixed society, and once or twice her imagination pictured 
 his sensations into something like alarm. These unpleas- 
 ant interruptions to her admiration were soon forgotten in 
 her just appreciation of the more solid parts of his charac- 
 ter, which appeared literally to be unexceptionable ; and 
 when momentary uneasiness would steal over her, the re- 
 membrance of the opinion of Dr. Ives, his behavior with 
 Jarvis, his charity, and chiefly his devotion to her niece, 
 would not fail to drive the disagreeable thoughts from her 
 mind. Emily herself moved about, the image of joy and 
 innocence. If Denbigh were near her, she was happy ; if 
 absent, she suffered no uneasiness. Her feelings were so 
 ardent, and yet so pure, that jealousy had no admission. 
 Perhaps no circumstances existed to excite this usual at- 
 tendant of the passion ; but as the heart of Emily was 
 more enchained than her imagination, her affections were 
 not of the restless nature of ordinary attachments, though 
 more dangerous to her peace of mind in the event of an 
 
PRECA UTION. 147 
 
 unfortunate issue. With Denbigh she never walked or 
 rode alone. He had never made the request, and her del- 
 icacy would have shrunk from such an open manifestation 
 of her preference ; hut he read to her and her aunt ; he 
 accompanied them in their little excursions ; and once or 
 twice John noticed that she took the offered hand of Den- 
 bigh to assist her over any little impediment in their course, 
 instead of her usual unobtrusive custom of taking his arm 
 on such occasions. "Well, Miss Emily," thought John, 
 " you appear to have chosen another favorite," on her do- 
 ing this three times in succession in one of their walks. 
 " How strange it is women will quit their natural friends 
 for a face they have hardly seen." John forgot his own 
 " There is no danger, dear Grace," when his sister was 
 almost dead with apprehension. But John loved Emily 
 too well to witness her preference of another with satisfac- 
 tion, even though Denbigh was the favorite ; a feeling 
 which soon wore away, however, by dint of custom and 
 reflection. Mr. Benfield had taken it into his head that if 
 the wedding of Emily could be solemnized while the fam- 
 ily was at the lodge, it would render him the happiest of 
 men ; and how to compass this object, was the occupation 
 of a whole morning's contemplation. Happily for Emily's 
 blushes, the old gentleman harbored the most fastidious 
 notions of female delicacy, and never in conversation 
 made the most distant allusion to the expected connection. 
 He, therefore, in conformity with these feelings, could do 
 nothing openly ; all must be the effect of management ; 
 and as he thought Peter one of the best contrivers in the 
 world, to his ingenuity he determined to refer the arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 The bell rang " Send Johnson to me, David." 
 
 In a few minutes, the drab coat and blue yarn stockings 
 entered his dressing-room with the body of Mr. Peter 
 Johnson snugly cased within them. 
 
 " Peter," commenced Mr. Benfield, pointing kindly to a 
 chair, which the steward respectfully declined, " I suppose 
 you know that Mr. Denbigh, the grandson of General 
 Denbigh, who was in Parliament with me, is about to 
 marry my little Emmy?" 
 
 Peter smiled, as he bowed an assent. 
 
 " Now, Peter, a wedding would, of all things, make me 
 most happy ; that is, to have it here in the lodge. It would 
 remind me so much of the marriage of Lord Gosford, and 
 the bridesmaids. I wish your opinion how to bring it about 
 
148 PRECAUTION. 
 
 before they leave us. Sir Edward and Anne decline inter- 
 fering, and Mrs. Wilson I am afraid to speak to on the 
 subject." 
 
 Peter was not a little alarmed by this sudden requisition 
 on his inventive faculties, especially as a lady was in the 
 case ; but, as he prided himself on serving his master, and 
 loved the hilarity of a wedding in his heart, he cogitated 
 for some time in silence, when, having thought a pre- 
 liminary question or two necessary, he broke it with say- 
 ing 
 
 " Everything, I suppose, master, is settled between the 
 young people ?" 
 
 " Everything, I take it, Peter." 
 
 " And Sir Edward and my lady ? " 
 
 " Willing ; perfectly willing." 
 
 "And Madam Wilson, sir?" 
 
 "Willing, Peter, willing." 
 
 " And Mr. John and Miss Jane?" 
 
 " All willing ; the whole family is willing, to the best of 
 my belief." 
 
 " There is the Rev. Mr. Ives and Mrs. Ives, master ? " 
 
 " They wish it, I know. Don't you think they wish 
 others as happy as themselves, Peter ?" 
 
 " No doubt they do, master. Well, then, as everybody 
 is willing, and the young people agreeable, the only thing 
 to be done, sir, is "- 
 
 " Is what, Peter ? " exclaimed his impatient master, ob- 
 serving him to hesitate. 
 
 " Why, sir, to send for the priest, I take it." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Peter Johnson, I know that myself," replied 
 the dissatisfied old man. " Cannot you help me to a better 
 plan?" 
 
 "Why, master," said Peter, " I would have done as well 
 for Miss Emmy and your honor as I would have done for 
 myself. Now, sir, when I courted Patty Steele, your honor, 
 in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and 
 sixty-five, I should have been married but for one diffi- 
 culty, which your honor says is removed in the case of Miss 
 Emmy." 
 
 "What was that, Peter ?" asked his master, in a tender 
 tone. 
 
 *' She wasn't willing, sir." 
 
 "Very well, poor Peter," replied Mr. Benfield, mildly, 
 "you may go." And the steward, bowing low, withdrew. 
 
 The similarity of their fortunes in love was a strong link 
 
PRECA UTION, 149 
 
 in the sympathies which bound the master and man to- 
 gether, and the former never failed to be softened by an 
 allusion to Patty. The want of tact in the man, on the 
 present occasion, after much reflection, was attributed by 
 his master to the fact that Peter had never sat in Parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MRS. WILSON and Emily, in the fortnight they had been 
 at Benfield Lodge, paid frequent and long visits to the cot- 
 tage ; and each succeeding interview left a more favorable 
 impression of the character of its mistress, and a greater 
 certainty that she was unfortunate. The latter, however, 
 alluded very slightly to her situation or former life ; she 
 was a Protestant, to the great surprise of Mrs. Wilson ; 
 and one that misery had made nearly acquainted with the 
 religion she professed. Their conversations chiefly turned 
 on the customs of her own, as contrasted with those of her 
 adopted country, or in a pleasant exchange of opinions, 
 which the ladies possessed in complete unison. One morn- 
 ing John had accompanied them and been admitted ; Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald receiving him with the frankness of an old ac- 
 quaintance, though with the reserve of a Spanish lady. 
 His v?sits were permitted under the direction of his aunt, 
 but no others of the gentlemen were included among her 
 guests. Mrs. Wilson had casually mentioned, in the ab- 
 sence of her niece, the interposition of Denbigh between 
 her and death ; and Mrs. Fitzgerald was so much pleased 
 at the noble conduct of the gentleman as to express a de- 
 sire to see him ; but the impressions of the moment ap- 
 peared to have died away, as nothing more was said by 
 either lady on the subject, and it was apparently forgotten. 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald was found one morning weeping over a 
 letter she held in her hand, and the Donna Lorenza was 
 endeavoring to console her. The situation of this latter 
 lady was somewhat doubtful ; she appeared neither wholly 
 a friend nor a menial. In the manners of the two there 
 was a striking difference ; although the Donna was not vul- 
 gar, she was far from possessing the polish of her more 
 juvenile friend, and Mrs. Wilson considered her to be in a 
 station between that of a housekeeper and that of a com- 
 panion. After hoping that no unpleasant intelligence 
 occasioned the distress they witnessed, the ladies were del- 
 
150 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 icately about to take their leave, when Mrs. Fitzgerald 
 entreated them to remain. 
 
 " Your kind attention to me, dear madam, and the good- 
 ness of Miss Moseley, give you a claim to know more of 
 the unfortunate being your sympathy has so greatly as- 
 sisted to attain her peace of mind. This letter is from the 
 gentleman of whom you have heard me speak, as once 
 visiting me, and though it has struck me with unusual 
 force, it contains no more than I expected to hear, perhaps 
 no more than I deserve to hear." 
 
 " T hope your friend has not been unnecessarily harsh : 
 severity is not the best way, always, of effecting repentance, 
 and I feel certain that you, my young friend, can have been 
 guilty of no offence that does not rather require gentle 
 than stern reproof," said Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " I thank you, dear madam, for your indulgent opinion 
 of me, but although I have suffered much, I am willing to 
 confess it is a merited punishment ; you are, however, mis- 
 taken as to the source of my present sorrow. Lord Pen- 
 dennyss is the cause of grief, I believe, to no one, much 
 less to me." 
 
 '* Lord Pendennyss ! " exclaimed Emily, in surprise, un- 
 consciously looking at her aunt. 
 
 " Pendennyss ! " reiterated Mrs. Wilson, with animation ; 
 " and is he your friend, too ? " 
 
 "Yes, madam ; to his lordship I owe everything honor 
 comfort religion and even life itself." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson's cheek glowed with an unusual color at 
 this discovery of another act of benevolence and virtue, in 
 a young nobleman whose character she had so long ad- 
 mired, and whose person she had in vain wished to meet. 
 
 "You know the earl, then ?" inquired Mrs. Fitzgerald. 
 
 " By reputation, only, my dear," said Mrs. Wilson ; " but 
 that is enough to convince me a friend of his must be a 
 worthy character, if anything were wanting to make us 
 your friends." 
 
 The conversation was continued for some time, Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald saying she did not feel equal just then to the 
 undertaking, but the next day, if they would honor her 
 with another call, she would make them acquainted with 
 the incidents of her fife, and the reasons she had for speak- 
 ing in such terms of Lord Pendennyss. The promise to 
 see her was cheerfully made by Mrs. Wilson, and her con- 
 fidence accepted ; not from a desire to gratify an idle curi- 
 osity, but a belief that it was necessary to probe a 
 
PRECAUTION. 151 
 
 to cure it ; and a correct opinion, that she would be a bet- 
 ter adviser for a young and lovely woman than even Pen- 
 dennyss ; for the Donna Lorenza she could hardly consider 
 in a capacity to offer advice, much less dictation. They 
 then took their leave, and Emily, during their ride, broke 
 the silence with exclaiming 
 
 "Wherever we hear of Lord Pendennyss, aunt, we hear 
 of him favorably." 
 
 " A certain sign, my dear, he is deserving of it. There 
 is hardly any man who has not his enemies, and those are 
 seldom just ; but w r e have met with none of the earl's yet." 
 
 " Fifty thousand a year will make many friends," ob- 
 served Emily, shaking her head. 
 
 " Doubtless, my love, or as many enemies ; but honor, 
 life, and religion, rny child, are debts not owing to money 
 in this country, at least." 
 
 To this remark Emily assented ; and after expressing 
 her own admiration of the character of the young noble- 
 man, she dropped into a reverie. How many of his virtues 
 she identified with the person of Mr. Denbigh, it is not, 
 just now, our task to enumerate ; but judges of human 
 nature may easily determine, and that too without having 
 sat in the Parliament of this realm. 
 
 The morning this conversation occurred at the cottage, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis, with their daughters, made their un- 
 expected appearance at L . The arrival of a post-chaise 
 
 and four, with a gig, was an event soon circulated through 
 the little village, and the names of its owners reached the 
 lodge just as Jane had allowed herself to be persuaded by 
 the colonel to take her first walk with him unaccompanied 
 by a third person. Walking is much more propitious to 
 declarations than riding ; and whether it was premeditated 
 on the part of the colonel or not, or whether he was afraid 
 that Mrs. Jarvis or some one else would interfere, he availed 
 himself of this opportunity, and had hardly got out of 
 hearing of her brother and Denbigh, before he made Jane 
 an explicit offer of his hand. The surprise was so great 
 that some time elapsed before the distressed girl could re- 
 ply. This she, however, at length did, but incoherently ; 
 she referred him to her parents, as the arbiters of her fate, 
 well knowing that her wishes had long been those of her 
 father and mother. With this the colonel was obliged to 
 be satisfied for the present. But their walk had not ended, 
 before he gradually drew from the confiding girl an ac- 
 knowledgment that, should her parents decline his offer, 
 
152 PRECAUTION. 
 
 she would be very little less miserable than himself ; in- 
 deed, the most tenacious lover might have been content 
 with the proofs of regard that Jane, unused to control her 
 feelings, allowed herself to manifest on this occasion. 
 Egerton was in raptures ; a life devoted to her would never 
 half repay her condescension ; and as their confidence in 
 creased with their walk, Jane re-entered the lodge with 
 degree of happiness in her heart she had never before ex- 
 perienced. The much dreaded declaration her own dis- 
 tres^sing acknowledgments, were made, and nothing further 
 remained but to live and be happy. She flew into the 
 arms of her mother, and, hiding her blushes in her bosom, 
 acquainted her with the colonel's offer and her own wishes. 
 Lady Moseley, who was prepared for such a communica- 
 tion, and had rather wondered at its tardiness, kissed her 
 daughter affectionately, as she promised to speak to her 
 father, and to obtain his approbation. 
 
 " But," she added, with a degree of formality and cau- 
 tion which had better preceded than have followed the 
 courtship, "we must make the usual inquiries, my child, 
 into the fitness of Colonel Egerton as a husband for our 
 daughter. Once assured of that, you have nothing to 
 fear." 
 
 The baronet was requested to grant an audience to 
 Colonel Egerton, who now appeared as determined to ex- 
 pedite things, as he had been dilatory before. On meet- 
 ing Sir Edward, he made known his pretensions and 
 hopes. The father, who had been previously notified by 
 his wife of what was forthcoming, gave a general answer, 
 similar to the speech of the mother, and the colonel bowed 
 in acquiescence. 
 
 In the evening, the Jarvis family favored the inhabitants 
 of the lodge with a visit, and Mrs. Wilson was struck with 
 the singularity of their reception of the colonel. Miss 
 Jarvis, especially, was rude to both him and Jane, and it 
 struck all who witnessed it as a burst of jealous feeling for 
 disappointed hopes ; but to no one, excepting Mrs. Wil- 
 son, did it occur that the conduct of the gentleman could 
 be at all implicated in the transaction. Mr. Benfield was 
 happy to see under his roof again the best of the trio ol 
 Jarvises he had known, and something like sociability 
 prevailed. There was to be a ball, Miss Jarvis remarked, 
 at L , the following day, which would help to en- 
 liven the scene a little, especially as there were a couple 
 of frigates at anchor, a few miles off, and the cfBrsrs were 
 
PRECA UTION'. 153 
 
 expected to join the party. This intelligence had but 
 little effect on the ladies of the Moseley family ; yet, as 
 their uncle desired that, out of respect to his neighbors, if 
 invited, they would go, they cheerfully assented. During 
 the evening, Mrs. Wilson observed Egerton in familiar 
 conversation with Miss Jarvis ; and as she had been no- 
 tified of his situation with respect to Jane, she determined 
 to watch narrowly into the causes of so singular a change 
 of deportment in the young lady. Mrs. Jarvis retained 
 her respect for the colonel in full force, and called out to 
 him across the room, a few minutes before she departed 
 
 " Well, colonel, I am happy to tell you I have heard 
 very lately from your uncle, Sir Edgar." 
 
 " Indeed, madam ! " replied the colonel, starting. " He 
 was well, I hope ? " 
 
 " Very well, the day before yesterday. His neighbor, 
 old Mr. Holt, is a lodger in the same house with us at 
 
 L ; and as I thought you would like to hear, I made 
 
 particular inquiries about the baronet." The word baronet 
 was pronounced with emphasis and a look of triumph, as 
 if it would say, you see we have baronets as well as you. 
 As no answer was made by Egerton, excepting an ac- 
 knowledging bow, the merchant and his family departed. 
 
 " Well, John," cried Emily, with a smile, "we have heard 
 more good to-day of our trusty and well-beloved cousin, 
 the Earl of Pendennyss." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed her brother. " You must keep 
 Emily for his lordship, positively, aunt : she is almost as 
 great an admirer of him as yourself." 
 
 11 1 apprehend it is necessary she should be quite as much 
 so, to become his wife," said Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " Really," said Emily, more gravely, " if all one hears 
 of him be true, or even half, it would be no difficult task 
 to admire him." 
 
 Denbigh was standing leaning on the back of a chair, in 
 a situation where he could view the animated countenance 
 of Emily as she spoke, and Mrs. Wilson noticed an un- 
 easiness and a changing of color in him that appeared 
 uncommon from so trifling a cause. Is it possible, she 
 thought, Denbigh can harbor so mean a passion as envy ? 
 He walked away, as if unwilling to hear more, and ap- 
 peared much engrossed with his own reflections for the 
 remainder of the evening. There were moments of doubt 
 ing which crossed the mind of Mrs. Wilson with a keen- 
 ness of apprehension proportionate to her deep interest in 
 
I S 4 PRECAUTION. 
 
 Emily, with respect to certain traits in the character of 
 Denbigh ; and this, what she thought a display of un- 
 worthy feeling, was one of them. In the course of the 
 evening, the cards for the expected ball arrived, and were 
 accepted. As this new arrangement for the morrow inter- 
 fered with the intended visit to Mrs. Fitzgerald, a servant 
 was sent with a note of explanation in the morning, and a 
 request that on the following day the promised communi- 
 cation might be made. To this arrangement the recluse 
 assented, and Emily prepared for the ball with a melan- 
 choly recollection of the consequences which grew out of 
 the last she had attended melancholy at the fate of 
 Digby, and pleasure at the principles manifested by Den- 
 bigh, on the occasion. The latter, however, with a smile, 
 excused himself from being of the party, telling Emily 
 he was so awkward that he feared some unpleasant conse- 
 quences to himself or his friends would arise from his in- 
 advertencies, did he venture again with her into such an 
 assembly. 
 
 Emily sighed gently, as she entered the carriage of her 
 aunt early in the afternoon, leaving Denbigh in the door 
 of the lodge, and Egerton absent on the execution of some 
 business ; the former to amuse himself as he could until 
 the following morning, and the latter to join them in the 
 dance in the evening. 
 
 The arrangement included an excursion on the water, 
 attended by the bands from the frigates, a collation, and 
 in the evening a ball. One of the vessels was commanded 
 by a Lord Henry Stapleton, a fine young man, who, struck 
 with the beauty and appearance of the sisters, sought an 
 introduction to the baronet's family, and engaged the hand 
 of Emily for the first dance. His frank and gentlemanlike 
 deportment was pleasing to his new acquaintances ; the 
 more so, as it was peculiarly suited to their situation, at 
 the moment. Mrs. Wilson was in unusual spirits, and 
 maintained an animated conversation with the young 
 sailor, in the course of which he spoke of his cruising on 
 the coast of Spain, and by accident he mentioned his hav- 
 ing carried out to that country, upon one occasion, Lord 
 Pendennyss. This was common ground between them, 
 and Lord Henry was as enthusiastic in his praises of the 
 earl as Mrs. Wilson's partiality could desire. He also 
 knew Colonel Egerton slightly,' and expressed his pleas- 
 ure, in polite terms, when they met in the evening in the 
 ball-room, at being able to renew his acquaintance. Th* 
 
PRECA UTIOK. 155 
 
 evening passed off as such evenings generally do in 
 gayety, listlessness, dancing, gaping, and heart-burnings, 
 according to the dispositions and good or ill fortune of the 
 several individuals who compose the assembly. Mrs. Wil- 
 son, while her nieces were dancing, moved her seat to be 
 near a windofor, and found herself in the vicinity of two 
 elderly gentlemen, who were commenting on the company. 
 After making several common-place remarks, one of them 
 inquired of the other, "Who is that military gentleman 
 among the naval beaux, Holt ? " 
 
 " That is the hopeful nephew of my friend and neighbor, 
 Sir Edgar Egerton ; he is here dancing and misspending 
 his time and money, when I know Sir Edgar gave him a 
 thousand pounds six months ago, on express condition he 
 should not leave the regiment or take a card in his hand 
 for a twelvemonth." 
 
 "He plays, then?" 
 
 "Sadly ; he is, on the whole, a very bad young man." 
 
 As they changed their topic, Mrs. Wilson joined her 
 sister, dreadfully shocked at this intimation of the vices 
 of a man so near an alliance with her brother's child. She 
 was thankful it was not too late to avert part of the evil, 
 and determined to acquaint Sir Edward, at once, with 
 what she had heard, in order that an investigation might 
 establish the colonel's innocence or guilt. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THEY returned to the lodge at an early hour, and Mrs. 
 Wilson, after meditating upon the course she ought to take, 
 resolved to have a conversation with her brother that even- 
 ing after supper. Accordingly, as they were among the 
 last to retire, she mentioned her wish to detain him, and 
 when left by themselves, the baronet taking his seat by 
 her on a sofa, she commenced as follows, willing to avoid 
 her unpleasant information until the last moment, 
 
 " I wished to say something to you, brother, relating to 
 my charge : you have, no doubt, observed the attentions 
 of'Mr. Denbigh* to Emily?" 
 
 "Certainly, sister, and with great pleasure; you must 
 not suppose 1 wish to interfere with the authority I have 
 so freely relinquished to you, Charlotte, when I inquire if 
 Emily favors his views or not ? " 
 
156 PRECAUTION. 
 
 '-Neither Emily nor I, my dear brother, wish ever to 
 question your right, not only to inquire into, but to con- 
 trol the conduct of your child ; she is yours, Edward, by 
 a tie nothing can break, and we both love you too much 
 to wish it. There is nothing you may be more certain of, 
 than that, without the approbation of her parents, Emily 
 would accept of no offer, however splendid or agreeable 
 to her own wishes." 
 
 " Nay, sister, I would not wish unduly to influence my 
 child in an affair of so much importance to herself ; but 
 my interest in Denbigh is little short of that * feel for my 
 daughter." 
 
 " I trust," continued Mrs. Wilson, " Emily is too deeply 
 impressed with her duty to forget the impressive mandate, 
 'to honor her father and mother' : yes, Sir Ed.ward, I am 
 mistaken if she would not relinquish the dearest object of 
 her affections, at your request ; and at the same time, I am 
 persuaded she would, under no circumstances, approach 
 the altar with a man she did not both love and esteem." 
 
 The baronet did not appear exactly to understand his 
 sister's distinction, as he observed, " I am not sure I right- 
 ly comprehend the difference you make, Charlotte." 
 
 "Only, brother, that she would feel a promise made at 
 the altar to love a man she felt averse to, or honor one she 
 could not esteem, as a breach of a duty paramount to all 
 earthly considerations," replied his sister : " but to answer 
 your question Denbigh has never offered, and when he 
 does, I do not think he will be refused." 
 
 " Refused !" cried the baronet, "I sincerely hope not; 
 I wish, with all my heart, they were married already." 
 
 " Emily is very young," said Mrs. Wilson, " and need not 
 hurry ; I was in hopes she would remain single a few years 
 longer." 
 
 "Well," said the baronet, "you and Lady Moseley, sis- 
 ter, have different notions on the subject of marrying the 
 girls." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson replied, with a good-humored smile, " You 
 have made Anne so good a husband, Ned, that she forgets 
 there are any bad ones in the world ; my greatest anxiety 
 is that the husband of my niece may be a Christian ; in- 
 deed, I know not how I can reconcile it to my conscience, 
 as a Christian myself, to omit this important qualification." 
 
 " I am sure, Charlotte, both Denbigh and Egerton ap- 
 pear to have a great respect for religion ; they are punct- 
 ual at church, and very attentive to the service /' Mrs 
 
PRECA UTION; 157 
 
 Wilson smiled as he proceeded, " but religion may come 
 after marriage, you know." 
 
 " Yes, brother, and I know it may not come at all ; no 
 really pious woman can be happy without her husband is 
 in what she deems the road to future happiness himself; 
 and it is idle it is worse it is almost impious to marry 
 with a view to reform a husband ; indeed, she greatly en- 
 dangers her own safety thereby ; for few of us, I believe, 
 but find the temptation to err as much as we can contend 
 with, without calling in the aid of example against us, in 
 an object we love ; indeed, it appears to me the life of such 
 a woman must be a struggle between conflicting duties." 
 
 " Why," said the baronet, " if your plan were generally 
 adopted, I am afraid it would give a deadly blow to mat- 
 rimony." 
 
 " I have nothing to do with generals, brother ; I arn act- 
 ing for individual happiness, and discharging individual du- 
 ties ; at the same time, I cannot agree with you in its 
 effects on the community. I think no man who dispassion- 
 ately examines the subject, will be other than a Christian ; 
 and, rather than remain bachelors, they would take even 
 that trouble ; if the strife in our sex were less for a hus- 
 band, wives would increase in value." 
 
 " But how is it, Charlotte," said the baronet, pleasantly, 
 "your sex do not use your power, and reform the age ?" 
 
 "The work of reformation, Sir Edward," replied his sis- 
 ter, gravely, "is an arduous one, indeed, and I despair of 
 seeing it general in my day ; but much, very much, might 
 be done toward it, if those who have the guidance of youth 
 would take that trouble with their pupils that good faith 
 requires of them, to discharge the minor duties of life." 
 
 "Women ought to marry, "observed the baronet, musing. 
 
 " Marriage is certainly the natural and most desirable 
 state for a woman, but how few are there who, having en- 
 tered it, know how to discharge its duties ; more particu- 
 larly those of a mother ! On the subject of marrying our 
 daughters, for instance, instead of qualifying them to make 
 a proper choice, they are generally left to pick up such 
 principles and opinions as they may come at, as it were by 
 chance. It is true, if the parent be a Christian in name, 
 certain of the externals of religion are observed ; but what 
 are these, if not enforced by a consistent example in the 
 instructor." 
 
 " Useful precepts are seldom lost, I believe, sister," said 
 Sir Edward, with confidence. 
 
158 PRECA UT10N-. 
 
 "Always useful, my dear brother ; but young people are 
 more observant than we are apt to imagine, and are won- 
 derfully ingenious in devising excuses to themselves for 
 their conduct. I have often heard it offered as an apology, 
 that father or mother knew it, or perhaps did it, and there- 
 fore it could not be wrong : association is all-important to 
 a child." 
 
 " I believe no family of consequence admits of improper 
 associates within my knowledge," said the baronet. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson smiled as she answered, " I am sure I hope 
 not, Edward ; but are the qualifications we require in com- 
 panions for our daughters, always such as are most recon- 
 cilable with our good sense or our consciences ? A single 
 communication with an objectionable character is a prece- 
 dent, if known and unobserved, which will be offered to 
 excuse acquaintances with worse persons : with the other 
 sex, especially, their acquaintance should be very guarded 
 and select." 
 
 " You would make many old maids, sister." 
 
 " I doubt it greatly, brother ; it would rather bring 
 female society in demand. I often regret that selfishness, 
 cupidity, and the kind of strife which prevails in our sex, 
 on the road to matrimony, have brought celibacy into dis- 
 repute. For my part, I never see an old maid, but I am 
 willing to think she is so from choice or principle, and, al- 
 though not in her proper place, yet serviceable, by keeping 
 alive feelings necessary to exist, that marriages may not 
 become curses instead of blessings." 
 
 "A kind of Eddystone, to prevent matrimonial ship- 
 wrecks," said the brother, gayly. 
 
 "Their lot may be solitary, baronet, and in some measure 
 cheerless, but infinitely preferable to a mariage that may 
 lead them astray from their duties, or give birth to a family 
 which are to be turned on the world without any religion 
 but form without any morals but truisms or without 
 even a conscience which has not been seared by indul- 
 gence. I hope that Anne in the performance of her 
 system, will have no causf to regret its failure." 
 
 " Clara chose for herself, and has done well, Charlotte ; 
 and so, I doubt not, will Jane and Emily ; and I confess I 
 think their mother is right." 
 
 " It is true," said Mrs. Wilson, " Clara has done well, 
 though under circumstances of but little risk ; she might 
 have jumped into your fish-pond, and escaped with life, 
 but the chances are she would drown : nor dp I dispute 
 
PR EC A UT1ON. I5f 
 
 -.he light of the girls to choose for themse.ves ; but I say 
 the rights extend to requiring us to qualify them to make 
 their choice. I am sorry, Edward, to be the instigator 
 of doubts in your breast of the worth of any one, especial- 
 ly as it may give you pain." Here Mrs. Wilson took her 
 brother affectionately by the hand, and communicated 
 what she had overheard that evening. Although the im- 
 pressions of the baronet were not as vivid or as deep as 
 those of his sister, his parental love was too great not to 
 make him extremely uneasy under the intelligence ; and 
 after thanking her for her attention to his children's 
 welfare, he kissed her and withdrew. In passing to 
 his own room, he met Egerton, that moment returned 
 from escorting the Jarvis ladies to their lodgings ; a 
 task he had undertaken at the request of Jane, as they 
 were without any male attendant. Sir Edward's heart was 
 too full not to seek immediate relief, and as he had strong 
 hopes of the innocence of the colonel, though he could 
 give no reason for his expectation, he returned with him 
 to the parlor, and in a few words acquainted him with the 
 slanders which had been circulated at his expense ; beg- 
 ging him by all means to disprove them as soon as possible. 
 The colonel was struck with the circumstance at first, but 
 assured Sir Edward it was entirely untrue. He never 
 played, as he might have noticed, and that Mr. Holt was 
 an ancient enemy of his. He would in the morning take 
 measures to convince Sir Edward that he stood higher in 
 the estimation of his uncle than Mr. Holt had thought 
 proper to. state. Much relieved by this explanation, the 
 baronet, forgetting that this heavy charge removed, he 
 only stood where he did before he took time for his inqui- 
 ries, assured him, that if he could convince him, or rather 
 his sister, he did not gamble, he would receive him as a 
 son-in law with pleasure. The gentlemen shook hands 
 and parted. 
 
 Denbigh had retired to his room early, telling Mr. Ben- 
 field he did not feel well, and thus missed the party at 
 supper ; and by twelve, silence prevailed in the house. 
 
 As usual after a previous day of pleasure, the party were 
 late in assembling on the following, yet Denbigh was the 
 last who made his appearance. Mrs. Wilson thought he 
 threw a look round the room as he entered, which pre* 
 vented his making his salutations in his usual easy and 
 polished manner. In a few minutes, however, his awk- 
 wardness was removed, and they took their seats at the 
 
160 PRECA UTION. 
 
 table. At that moment the door of the room was throw* 
 hastily open, and Mr. Jarvis entered abruptly, and with 
 a look bordering on wildness in his eye " Is she not 
 here?" exclaimed the merchant, scanning the company 
 closely. 
 
 "Who ?" inquired all in a breath. 
 
 " Polly my daughter my child," said the merchant, 
 endeavoring to control his feelings ; " did she not come 
 here this morning with Colonel Egerton ?" 
 
 He was answered in the negative, and he briefly explained 
 the cause of his anxiety. The colonel had called very 
 early, and sent her maid up to his daughter who rose im- 
 mediately. They had quitted the house together, leaving 
 word the Miss Moseleys had sent for the young lady to 
 breakfast, for some particular reason. Such was the lati- 
 tude allowed by his wife, that nothing was suspected until 
 one of the servants of the house said he had seen Colonel 
 Egerton and a lady drive out of the village that morning 
 in a post-chaise and four. 
 
 Then the old gentleman first took the alarm, and he 
 proceeded instantly to the lodge in quest of his daughter. 
 Of the elopement there now remained no doubt, and an 
 examination into the state of the colonel's room, who, it 
 had been thought, was not yet risen, gave assurance of it. 
 Here was at once sad confirmation that the opinion of Mr. 
 Holt was a just one. Although every heart felt for Jane 
 during this dreadful explanation, no eye was turned on 
 her excepting the stolen and anxious glances of her sister ; 
 but when all was confirmed, and nothing remained but to 
 reflect or act upon the circumstances, she naturally en- 
 grossed the whole attention of her fond parents. Jane 
 had listened in indignation to the commencement of the 
 narrative of Mr. Jarvis, and so firmly was Egerton en- 
 shrined in purity within her imagination, that not until it 
 was ascertained that both his servant and clothes were 
 missing, would she admit a thought injurious to his truth. 
 Then indeed the feelings of Mr. Jarvis, his plain statement 
 corroborated by this testimony, struck her at once as true ; 
 and as she rose to leave the room, she fell senseless into 
 the arms of Emily, who, observing her movement and loss 
 of color, had flown to her assistance. Denbigh had drawn 
 the merchant out in vain efforts to appease him, and hap- 
 pily no one witnessed this effect of Jane's passion but her 
 nearest relatives. She was immediately removed to her 
 own room, and in a short time was in bed with a burning 
 
PRECAUTION'. 161 
 
 fever. The bursts of her grief were uncontrolled and vio- 
 lent. At times she reproached herself her friends Eg 
 erton ; in short, she was guilty of all the inconsistent sen- 
 sations that disappointed hopes, accompanied by the 
 consciousness of weakness on our part, seldom fail to give 
 rise to ; the presence of her friends was irksome to her, 
 and it was only to the soft and insinuating blandishments 
 of Emily's love that she would at all yield. Perseverance 
 and aifection at length prevailed, and as Emily took the 
 opportunity of some refreshments to infuse a strong sopo- 
 rific, Jane lost her consciousness of misery in a temporary 
 repose. In the meantime a more searching inquiry had 
 been able to trace out the manner and direction of the 
 journey of the fugitives. 
 
 It appeared the colonel left the lodge immediately after 
 his conversation with Sir Edward; he slept at a tavern, 
 and caused his servant to remove his baggage at daylight ; 
 here he had ordered a chaise and horses, and then pro- 
 ceeded, as mentioned, to the lodgings of Mr. Jarvis. What 
 arguments he used with Miss Jarvis to urge her to so sud- 
 den a flight, remained a secret ; but from the remarks of 
 Mrs. Jarvis and Miss Sarah, there was reason to believe 
 that he had induced them to think, from the commence- 
 ment, that his intentions were single, and Mary Jarvis 
 their object. How he contrived to gloss over his atten- 
 tions to Jane in such a manner as to deceive those ladies, 
 caused no little surprise ; but it was obvious it had been 
 done, and the Moseleys were not without hopes, his situa- 
 tion with Jane would not make the noise in the world 
 such occurrences seldom fail to excite. In the afternoon 
 a letter was handed to Mr. Jarvis, and by him immediately 
 communicated to the baronet and Denbigh, both of whom 
 he considered as among his best friends. It was from 
 Egerton, and written in a respectful manner ; he apologized 
 for his elopement, and excused it on the ground of a wish 
 to avoid the delay of a license or the publishing of bans, 
 as he was in hourly expectation of a summons to his regi- 
 ment, and contained many promises of making an atten- 
 tive husband, and an affectionate son. The fugitives were 
 on the road to Scotland, whence they intended immediately 
 to return to London and to wait the commands of their 
 parents. The baronet, in a voice trembling with emotion 
 at the sufferings of his own child, congratulated the mer- 
 chant that things were no worse ; while Denbigh curled 
 his lips as he read the epistle, and thought settlements 
 ii 
 
1 62 PR EC A UT10N. 
 
 were a greater inconvenience than the bans for it was a 
 well-known fact, that a maiden aunt had left the Jarvises 
 twenty thousand pounds between them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the affections of Jane had sustained a heavy 
 blow, her pride had received a greater, and no persuasions 
 of her mother or sister could induce her to leave her room. 
 She talked little, but once or twice she yielded to the af- 
 fectionate attentions of Emily, and poured out her sor- 
 rows into the bosom of her sister. At such moments she 
 would declare her intention of never appearing in the 
 world again. One of these paroxysms of sorrow was 
 witnessed by her mother, and, for the first time, self-re- 
 proach mingled in the grief of the matron. Had she 
 trusted less to appearances and to the opinions of indif- 
 ferent and ill-judging acquaintances, her daughter might 
 have been apprised in season of the character of the man 
 who had stolen her affections. To a direct exhibition of 
 misery. Lady Moseley was always sensible, and, for the mo- 
 ment, she became alive to its causes and consequences ; 
 but a timely and judicious safeguard against future moral 
 evils was a forecast neither her inactivity of mind nor 
 abilities were equal to. 
 
 We shall leave Jane to brood over her lover's miscon- 
 duct, while we regret she is without the consolation alone 
 able to bear her up against the misfortunes of life, and re- 
 turn to the other personages of our history. 
 
 The visit to Mrs. Fitzgerald had been postponed in con- 
 sequence of Jane's indisposition ; but a week after the 
 colonel's departure, Mrs. Wilson thought, as Jane had con- 
 sented to leave her room, and Emily really began to look 
 pale from her confinement by the side of a sick bed, she 
 would redeem the pledge she had given the recluse on the 
 following morning. They found the ladies at the cottage 
 happy to see them, and anxious to hear of the health of 
 Jane, of whose illness they had been informed by note. 
 After offering her guests some refreshments, Mrs. Fitz- 
 gerald, who appeared laboring under a greater melancholy 
 than usual, proceeded to make them acquainted with the 
 incidents of her life. 
 
 The daughter of an English merchant at Lisbon had fled 
 
PRECA UTION. 163 
 
 from the house of her father to the protection of an Irish 
 officer in the service of his Catholic Majesty ; they were 
 united, and the colonel immediately took his bride to Mad- 
 rid. The offspring of this union were a son and daughter. 
 The former, at an early age, had entered into the service 
 of his king, and had, as usual, been bred in the faith of 
 his ancestors ; but the Sefiora McCarthy had been educated, 
 and yet remained a Protestant, and, contrary to her faith 
 to her husband, secretly instructed her daughter in the 
 same belief. At the age of seventeen, a principal grandee 
 of the court of Charles sought the hand of the general's 
 child. The Conde d'Alzada was a match not to be re- 
 fused, and they were united in the heartless and formal 
 manner in which marriages are too often entered into, in 
 countries where the customs of society prevent an inter- 
 course between the sexes. The conde never possessed the 
 affections of his wife. Of a stern and unyielding disposi- 
 tion, his harshness repelled her love ; and as she naturally 
 turned her eyes to the home of her childhood, she cherished 
 all those peculiar sentiments she had imbibed from her 
 mother. Thus, although she appeared to the world a 
 Catholic, she lived in secret a Protestant. Her parents' 
 had always used the English language in their family, and 
 she spoke it as fluently as the Spanish. To encourage her 
 recollections of this strong feature, which distinguished 
 the house of her father from the others she entered, she 
 perused closely and constantly those books which the 
 death of her mother placed at her disposal. These were 
 principally Protestant works on religious subjects, and the 
 countess became a strong sectarian, without becoming a 
 Christian. As she was compelled to use the same books 
 in teaching her only child, the Donna Julia, English, the 
 consequences of the original false step of her grandmother 
 were perpetuated in the person of this young lady. In 
 learning English, she also learned to secede from the faith 
 of her father, and entailed upon herself a life of either 
 persecution or hypocrisy. The countess was guilty of the 
 unpardonable error of complaining to their child of the 
 treatment she received from her husband ; and as these 
 conversations were held in English, and were consecrated 
 by the tears of the mother, they made an indelible im- 
 pression on the youthful mind of Julia, who grew up with 
 the conviction that next to being a Catholic herself, the 
 greatest evil of life was to be the wife of one. 
 
 On her attaining her fifteenth year, she had the mis. 
 
1 64 PRECA UTION. 
 
 fortune (if it could be termed one) to lose her mother, and 
 within the year her father presented to her a nobleman of 
 the vicinity as her future husband.. How long the re- 
 ligious faith of Julia would have endured, unsupported by 
 example in others, and assailed by the passions soliciting 
 in behalf of a young and handsome cavalier, it might be 
 difficult to pronounce ; but as her suitor was neither very 
 young, and the reverse of very handsome, it is certain the 
 more he wooed, the more confirmed she became in her 
 heresy, until, in a moment of desperation, and as an only 
 refuge against his solicitations, she candidly avowed her 
 creed. The anger of her father was violent and lasting ; 
 she was doomed to a convent, as both a penance for her 
 sins and a means of reformation. Physical resistance was 
 not in her power, but mentally she determined never to 
 yield. Her body was immured, but her mind continued 
 unshaken and rather more settled in her belief, by the aid 
 of those passions which had been excited by injudicious 
 harshness. For two years she continued in her novitiate, 
 obstinately refusing to take the vows of the order, and at 
 the end of that period the situation of her country had 
 called her father and uncle to the field as defenders of the 
 rights of their lawful prince. Perhaps to this it was owing 
 that harsher measures were not adopted in her case. 
 
 The war now raged around them in its greatest horrors, 
 until at length a general battle was fought in the neigh- 
 borhood, and the dormitories of the peaceful nuns were 
 crowded with wounded British officers. Among others of 
 his nation was a Major Fitzgerald, a young man of strik- 
 ingly handsome countenance and pleasant manners. 
 Chance threw him under the more immediate charge of 
 Julia ; his recovery was slow, and for a time doubtful, and 
 as much owing to good nursing as science. The major 
 was grateful, and Julia unhappy as she was beautiful. That 
 love should be the offspring of this association, will excite 
 no surprise. A brigade of British encamping in the vicinity 
 of the convent, the young couple sought its protection 
 from Spanish vengeance and Romish cruelty. They were 
 married by the chaplain of the brigade, and for a month 
 they were happy. 
 
 As Napoleon was daily expected in person at the seat of 
 war, his generals were alive to their own interests, if not to 
 that of their master. The body of troops in which Fitz- 
 gerald had sought a refuge, being an advanced party of the 
 main army, were surprised and defeated with Joss, Aftei 
 
PR EC A UTION. 165 
 
 doing his duty as a soldier at his post, the major, in en- 
 deavoring to secure the retreat of Julia, was intercepted, 
 and they both fell into the hands of the enemy. They 
 were kindly treated, and allowed every indulgence their 
 situation admitted, until a small escort of prisoners was 
 sent to the frontiers ; in this they were included, and had 
 proceeded to the neighborhood of the Pyrenees, when, in 
 their turn, the French were assailed suddenly, and entirely 
 routed ; and the captive Spaniards, of which the party, 
 with the exception of our young couple, consisted, re- 
 leased. As the French guard made a resistance until over- 
 powered by numbers, an unfortunate ball struck Major 
 Fitzgerald to the earth he survived but an hour, and died 
 where he fell, on the open field. An English officer, the 
 last of his retiring countrymen, was attracted by the sight 
 of a woman weeping over the body of a fallen man, and 
 approached them. In a few words Fitzgerald explained 
 his situation to this gentleman, and exacted a pledge from 
 him to guard his Julia, in safety, to his mother in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 The stranger promised everything the dying husband re- 
 quired, and by the time death had closed the eyes of Fitz- 
 gerald, he had procured from some peasants a rude con- 
 veyance, into which the body, with its almost equally 
 lifeless widow, was placed. The party which intercepted 
 the convoy of prisoners, had been out from the British 
 camp on other duty, but its commander hearing of the 
 escort, had pushed rapidly into a country covered by the 
 enemy to effect their rescue ; and his service done, he was 
 compelled to make a hasty retreat to insure his own secu- 
 rity. To this was owing the indifference which left the 
 major to the care of the Spanish peasantry who had gath- 
 ered to the spot, and the retreating troops had got several 
 miles on their return, before the widow and her protector 
 commenced their journey. It was impossible to overtake 
 them, and the inhabitants acquainting the gentleman that 
 a body of French dragoons were already harassing their 
 rear, he was compelled to seek another route to the camp. 
 This, with some trouble and no little danger, he at last 
 effected ; and the day following the skirmishT^Juli^ found 
 herself lodged in a retired Spanish dwelling, several miles 
 within the advanced posts of the British army. The body 
 of her husband was respectfully interred, and Julia was 
 left to mourn her irretrievable loss, uninterrupted by any- 
 thing but by the hasty visits of the officer in whose care 
 
i66 PRECAUTION. 
 
 she had been left visits which he stole from his more im- 
 portant duties as a soldier. 
 
 A month glided by in this melancholy manner, leaving 
 to Mrs. Fitzgerald the only consolation she would receive 
 her incessant visits to the grave of her husband. The 
 calls of her protector, however, became more frequent ; 
 and at length he announced his intended departure for Lis- 
 bon, on his way to England. A small covered vehicle, 
 drawn by one horse, was to convey them to the city, at 
 which place he promised to procure her a female attend- 
 ant, and necessaries for the voyage home. It was no time 
 or place for delicate punctilio ; and Julia quietly, but with 
 a heart nearly broken, prepared to submit to the wishes of 
 her late husband. After leaving the dwelling, the manners 
 of her guide sensibly altered ; he became complimentary 
 and assiduous to please, but in a way rather to offend than 
 conciliate ; until his attentions became so irksome that 
 Julia actually meditated stopping at some of the villages 
 through which they passed, and abandoning the attempt 
 of visiting England entirely. But the desire to comply 
 with Fitzgerald's wish, that she would console his mother 
 for the loss of an only child, and the dread of the anger of 
 her relatives, determined her to persevere until they reached 
 Lisbon, where she was resolved to separate forever from 
 the disagreeable and unknown guardian into whose keep- 
 ing she had been thrown by chance. 
 
 The last day of their weary ride, while passing a wood, 
 the officer so far forgot his own character and Julia's mis- 
 fortunes, as to offer personal indignities. Grown desperate 
 from her situation, Mrs. Fitzgerald sprang from the 
 vehicle, and by her cries attracted the notice of an officer 
 who was riding express on the same road with themselves. 
 He advanced to her assistance at speed, but as he arrived 
 near them, a pistol fired from the carriage brought his horse 
 down, and the treacherous friend was enabled to escape 
 undetected. Julia endeavored to explain her situation to 
 her rescuer ; and by her distress and appearance satisfied 
 him at once of its truth. Within a short time, a strong es- 
 cort of light dragoons came up, and the officer dispatched 
 some for a conveyance, and others in pursuit of that dis- 
 grace to the army, the villanous guide : the former w r as 
 soon obtained, but no tidings could be had of the latter. The 
 carriage was found at a short distance, without the horse 
 and with the baggage of Julia, but with no vestige of its 
 owner. She never knew his name, and either accident or 
 
PRECA UTION. 167 
 
 art had so completely enveloped him in mystery, that all 
 efforts to unfold it then were fruitless, and had continued 
 so ever since. 
 
 On their arrival in Lisbon, every attention was shown 
 to the disconsolate widow the most refined delicacy could 
 dictate, and every comfort and respect were procured for 
 her which the princely fortune, high rank, and higher 
 character of the Earl of Pendennyss could command. It 
 was this nobleman who, on his way from head-quarters 
 with dispatches for England, had been the means of pre- 
 serving Julia from a fate worse than death. A packet was 
 in waiting for the earl, and they proceeded in her for 
 home. The Donna Lorenza was the widow of a subaltern 
 Spanish officer, who had fallen under the orders and near 
 Pendennyss, and the interest he took in her brave husband 
 had induced him to offer her, on the destruction of her lit- 
 tle fortune by the enemy, his protection : for near two 
 years he had maintained her at Lisbon, and now, judging 
 her a proper person, had persuaded her to accompany 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald to England. 
 
 On the passage, which was very tedious, the earl became 
 more intimately acquainted with the history and character 
 of his young friend, and by a course of gentle yet power- 
 ful expedients had drawn her mind gradually from its 
 gloomy contemplation of futurity, to a juster sense of good 
 and evil. The peculiarity of her religious persuasion af- 
 forded an introduction to frequent discussions of the real 
 opinions of that church to which Julia had hitherto be- 
 longed, although ignorant of all its essential and vital 
 truths. These conversations, which were renewed repeat- 
 edly in their intercourse while under the protection of his 
 sister in London, laid the foundations of a faith which left 
 her nothing to hope for but the happy termination of her 
 earthly probation. 
 
 The mother of Fitzgerald was dead, and as he had no 
 near relative left, Julia found herself alone in the world. 
 Her husband had taken the precaution to make a will in 
 season ; it was properly authenticated, and his widow, by 
 the powerful assistance of Pendennyss, was put in quiet 
 possession of a little independency. It was while waiting 
 the decision of this affair that Mrs. Fitzgerald resided for 
 a short time near Bath. As soon as it was terminated, the 
 earl and his sister had seen her settled in her present 
 abode, and once more since had they visited her ; but del- 
 icacy had kept him away from the cottage, although his 
 
<68 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 ^tempts to serve her had been constant, though not always 
 successful. He had, on his return to Spain, seen her fath- 
 er, ^nd interceded with him on her behalf, but in vain. 
 The ^nger of the Spaniard remained unappeased, and for 
 a season he did not renew his efforts ; but having heard 
 that her father was indisposed, Julia had employed the 
 earl ono^ more to make her peace with him, without pre- 
 vailing. The letter the ladies had found her weeping over 
 was from Pendennyss, informing her of his waiTt of suc- 
 cess on that occasion. 
 
 The substance of the foregoing narrative was related by 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald io Mrs. Wilson, who repeated it to Emily 
 in their ride home. The compassion of both ladies was 
 strongly moved in behalf of the young widow ; yet Mrs. 
 Wilson did not fail to point out to her niece the conse- 
 quences of deception, and chiefly the misery which had 
 followed from an abandonment of some of the primary 
 duties of life obedience and respect to her parent. Emily, 
 though keenly alive to all the principles inculcated by her 
 aunt, found so much to be pitied in the fate of her friend, 
 that her failings lost their proper appearance in her eyes, 
 and for a while she could think of nothing but Julia and 
 her misfortunes. Previously to their leaving the cottage, 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald, with glowing cheeks and some hesitation, 
 informed Mrs. Wilson she had yet another important com- 
 munication to make, but would postpone it until her next 
 visit, which Mrs, Wilson promised should be on the suc- 
 ceeding day. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 EMILY threw a look of pleasure on Denbigh as he handed 
 her from the carriage, which would have said, if looks 
 could talk, "In the principles you have displayed on more 
 than one occasion, I have a pledge of your worth." As be 
 led her into the house, he laughingly informed her that 
 he had that morning received a letter which would make 
 
 his absence from L necessary for a short time, and 
 
 that he must remonstrate against these long and repeated 
 visits to a cottage where all attendants of the male sex 
 were excluded, as they encroached greatly on his pleasures 
 and improvements, bowing, as he spoke, to Mrs. Wilson. 
 To this Emily replied, gayly, that possibly, if he conducted 
 himself to their satisfaction, they would intercede for his 
 
PRECA UTION. ifej 
 
 admission. Expressing his pleasure at this promise, as 
 Mrs. Wilson thought, rather awkwardly, Denbigh changed 
 the conversation. At dinner he repeated to the family 
 what he had mentioned to Emily of his departure, and also 
 his expectation of meeting with Lord Chatterton during 
 his journey. 
 
 "Have you heard from Chatterton lately, John?" in- 
 quired Sir Edward Moseley. 
 
 "Yes, sir, to-day; he had left Denbigh Castle a fort- 
 night since, and writes he is to meet his friend, the duke, 
 at Bath." 
 
 " Are you connected with his grace, Mr. Denbigh ? " 
 asked Lady Moseley. 
 
 A smile of indefinite meaning played on the expressive 
 face of Denbigh, as he answered slightly 
 
 " On the side of my father, madam." 
 
 " He has a sister," continued Lady Moseley, willing to 
 know more of Chattertori's friends and Denbigh's relatives. 
 
 " He has," was the brief reply. 
 
 " Her name is Harriet," observed Mrs. Wilson. Denbigh 
 bowed his assent in silence, and Emily timidly added 
 
 " Lady Harriet Denbigh ? " 
 
 " Lady Harriet Denbigh will you do me the favor to 
 take wine ? " 
 
 The manner of the gentleman during this dialogue had 
 not been in the least unpleasant, but it was peculiar ; it 
 prohibited anything further on the subject ; and Emily 
 was obliged to be content without knowing who Marian 
 was, or whether her name was to be found in the Denbigh 
 family or not. Emily was not in the least jealous, but she 
 wished to know all to whom her lover was dear. 
 
 " Do the dowager and the young ladies accompany 
 Chatterton?" asked Sir Edward as he turned to John, 
 who was eating his fruit in silence. 
 
 "Yes, sir I hope that is, I believe she will," was the 
 answer. 
 
 " She ! Who is she, my son ? " 
 
 "Grace Chatterton," said John, starting from his medita- 
 tions. " Did you not ask me about Grace, Sir Edward ? " 
 
 " Not particularly, I believe," said the baronet, dryly. 
 
 Denbigh again smiled : it was a smile different from 
 any Mrs. Wilson had ever seen on his countenance, and 
 gave an entirely novel expression to his face ; it was full 
 of meaning, it was knowing spoke more of the man of 
 the world than anything she had before noticed in him, 
 
/;o PR EC A UTION. 
 
 and left on her mind one of those vague impressions 
 she was often troubled with, that there was something 
 about Denbigh in character or condition, or both, that was 
 mysterious. 
 
 The spirit of Jane was too great to leave her a pining or 
 pensive maiden ; yet her feelings had sustained a shock 
 that time alone could cure. She appeared again among 
 her friends ; but the consciousness of her expectations 
 with respect to the Colonel being known to them, threw 
 around her a hauteur and distance foreign to her natural 
 manner. Emily alone, whose every movement sprang 
 from the spontaneous feelings of her heart, and whose 
 words and actions were influenced by the finest and most 
 affectionate delicacy, such as she was not conscious of 
 possessing herself, won upon the better feelings of her 
 sister so far as to restore between them the usual ex- 
 change of kindness and sympathy. But Jane admitted 
 no confidence ; she found nothing consoling, nothing 
 solid, to justify her attachment to Egerton ; nothing, in- 
 deed, excepting such external advantages as she was now 
 ashamed to admit had ever the power over her they in 
 reality had possessed. The marriage of the fugitives in 
 Scotland had been announced ; and as the impression that 
 Egerton was to be connected with the Moseleys was de- 
 stroyed, of course their every-day acquaintances, feeling 
 the restraints removed that such an opinion had once im- 
 posed, were free in their comments on his character. Sir 
 Edward and Lady Moseley were astonished to find how 
 many things to his disadvantage were generally known ; 
 that he gambled, intrigued, and was in debt, were no se- 
 crets, apparently to anybody but to those who were most 
 interested in knowing the truth ; while Mrs. Wilson saw in 
 these facts additional reasons for examining and judging 
 for ourselves ; the world uniformly concealing from the 
 party and his friends their honest opinions of his charac- 
 ter. Some of these insinuations reached the ears of Jane : 
 her aunt having rightly judged, that the surest way to 
 destroy Egerton's power over the imagination of her niece 
 was to strip him of his fictitious qualities, suggested this 
 expedient to Lady Moseley ; and some of their visitors 
 had thought, as the Colonel had certainly been attentive 
 to Miss Moseley, it would give her pleasure to know that 
 her rival had not made the most eligible match in the 
 kingdom. The project of Mrs. Wilson succeeded in a 
 great measure : but although Egerton felj Jane did not 
 
PRECAUTION. 171 
 
 find she rose in her own estimation ; and her friends wisely 
 concluded that time was the only remedy that could re- 
 store her former serenity. 
 
 In the morning, Mrs. Wilson, unwilling to have Emily 
 present at a conversation she intended to hold with Den- 
 bigh, with a view to satisfy her annoying doubts as to 
 some minor points in his character, after excusing herself 
 to her niece, invited that gentleman to a morning drive. 
 He accepted her invitation cheerfully ; and Mrs. Wilson 
 saw, it was only as they drove from the door without 
 Emily, that he betrayed the faintest reluctance to the jaunt. 
 When they had got a short distance from the lodge she ac- 
 quainted him with her intention of presenting him to Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald, whither she had ordered the coachman to pro- 
 ceed. Denbigh started as she mentioned the name, and 
 after a few moment's silence, desired Mrs. Wilson to allow 
 him to stop the carriage ; he was not very well was sorry 
 to be so rude but with her permission, he would alight 
 and return to the house. As he requested in an earnest 
 manner that she would proceed without him, and by no 
 means disappoint her friend, Mrs. Wilson complied ; yet, 
 somewhat at a loss to account for his sudden illness, she 
 turned her head to see how the sick man fared, a short 
 time after he had left her, and was not a little surprised to 
 see him talking very composedly with John, who had met 
 him on his way to the fields with his gun. Lovesick, 
 thought Mrs. Wilson, with a smile ; and as she rode on she 
 came to the conclusion that, as Denbigh was to leave them 
 soon, Emily would have an important communication to 
 make on her return. 
 
 "Well," thought Mrs. Wilson with a sigh, "if it is to 
 happen, it may as well be done at once." 
 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald was expecting her, and appeared rather 
 pleased than otherwise that she had come alone. After 
 some introductory conversation, the ladies withdrew by 
 themselves, and Julia acquainted Mrs. Wilson with a new- 
 source of uneasiness. The day the ladies had promised to 
 visit her, but had been prevented by the arrangements for 
 the ball, the Donna Lorenza had driven to the village to 
 make some purchases, attended as usual by their onl} 
 man-servant, and Mrs. Fitzgerald was sitting in the little 
 parlor, in momentary expectation of her friends, by her- 
 self. The sound of footsteps drew her to the door, which 
 she opened for the admission of the wretch whose treach- 
 ery to her dying husband's requests had given her so much 
 
72 PRECA UTION. 
 
 uneasiness. Horror fear surprise altogether, prevent- 
 ed her from making any alarm at the moment, and she 
 sank into a chair. He stood between her and the door, as 
 he endeavored to draw her into a conversation ; he assured 
 her she had nothing to fear ; that he loved her, and her 
 -alone ; that he was about to be married to a daughter of 
 Sir Edward Moseley, but would give her up, fortune, 
 everything, if she would consent to become his wife that 
 the views of her protector, he doubted not, were dishonor- 
 able that he himself was willing to atone for his former 
 excess of passion, by a life devoted to her. 
 
 How mlich longer he would have gone on, and what 
 further he would have offered, is unknown ; for Mrs. Fitz- 
 gerald, having recovered herself a little, darted to the bell 
 on the other side of the room. He tried to prevent her 
 ringing it, but was too late ; a short struggle followed, 
 when the sound of the footsteps of the maid compelled him 
 to retreat precipitately. Mrs. Fitzgerald added, that his 
 assertion concerning Miss Moseley had given her incred- 
 ible uneasiness, and prevented her making the communi- 
 cation yesterday ; but she understood this morning 
 through her maid, that a Colonel Egerton, who had been 
 supposed to be engaged to one of Sir Edward's daughters, 
 had eloped with another lady. That Egerton was her per- 
 secutor, she did not now entertain a doubt ; but that it 
 was in the power of Mrs. Wilson probably to make the dis- 
 covery, as in the struggle between them for the bell, a 
 pocket-book had fallen from the breast-pocket of his coat, 
 and his retreat was too sudden to recover it. 
 
 As she put the book into the hands of Mrs. Wilson, she 
 desired she would take means to return it to its owner ; its 
 contents might be of value, though she had not thought it 
 correct to examine it. Mrs. Wilson took the book, and as 
 she dropped it into her work-bag, smiled at the Spanish 
 punctilio of her friend in not looking into her prize under 
 the peculiar circumstances. 
 
 A few questions as to the place and year of his first 
 attempts, soon convinced her it was Egerton whose un- 
 licensed passions had given so much trouble to Mrs. Fitz- 
 gerald. He had served but one campaign in Spain, and in 
 that year, and that division of the army ; and surely hh 
 principles were no restraint upon his conduct. Mrs. Fitz- 
 gerald begged the advice of her more experienced friend 
 as to the steps she ought to take ; to which the former 
 asked if she had made Lord Pendennyss acquainted with 
 
PR EC A UTIOtf. 173 
 
 the occurrence. The young widow's cheek glowed as she 
 answered, that, at the same time she felt assured the base 
 insinuation of Egerton was unfounded, it had created a 
 repugnance in her to troubling the earl any more than was 
 necessary in her affairs ; and as she kissed the hand of Mrs. 
 Wilson, she added "besides, your goodness, my dear 
 madam, renders any other adviser unnecessary now." Mrs. 
 Wilson pressed her hand affectionately, and assured her of 
 her good wishes and unaltered esteem. She commended 
 her delicacy, and plainly told the young widow, that how- 
 ever unexceptionable the character of Pendennyss might 
 be, a female friend was the only one a woman in her situa- 
 tion could repose confidence in, without justly incurring 
 the sarcasms of the world. 
 
 As Egerton was now married, and would not probably 
 offer, for the present at least, any further molestation to 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald, it was concluded to be unnecessary to take 
 any immediate measures of precaution ; and Mrs. Wilson 
 thought the purse of Mr. Jarvis might be made the means 
 of keeping him within proper bounds in future. The 
 merchant was prompt, and not easily intimidated ; and the 
 slightest intimation of the truth would, she knew, be suf- 
 ficient to engage him on their side, heart and hand. 
 
 The ladies parted, with a promise of meeting soon again, 
 and an additional interest in each other by the communi- 
 cations of that and the preceding day. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had ridden half the distance between the 
 cottage and the lodge, before it occurred to her they had 
 not absolutely ascertained, by the best means in their pos- 
 session, the identity of Colonel Egerton with Julia's perse- 
 cutor. She accordingly took the pocket-book from her 
 bag, and opened it for examination ; a couple of letters 
 fell from it into her lap, and conceiving their direction 
 would establish all she wished to know, as they had been 
 read, she turned to the superscription of one of them, and 
 saw " George Denbigh, Esq.," in the well-known hand- 
 writing of Dr. Ives. Mrs. Wilson felt herself overcome to 
 a degree that compelled her to lower a glass of the carriage 
 for air. She sat gazing on the letters until the characters 
 swam before her eyes in undistinguished confusion ; and 
 with difficulty she rallied her thoughts to the point nec- 
 essary for investigation. As soon as she found herself 
 equal to the task, she examined the letters with the closest 
 scrutiny, and opened them both to be sure there was no 
 mistake. She saw the dates, the " dear George " at the 
 
174 PRECA UTION-. 
 
 commencements, and the doctor's name subscribed, before 
 she would believe they were real ; it was then the truth 
 appeared to break upon her in a flood of light. The aver- 
 sion of Denbigh to speak of Spain, or of his services in 
 that country his avoiding Sir Herbert Nicholson, and 
 that gentleman's observations respecting him Colonel 
 Egerton's and his own manners his absence from the ball,, 
 and startling looks on the following morning, and at differ- 
 ent times before and since his displeasure at the name of 
 Pendennyss on various occasions and his cheerful accept- 
 ance of her invitation to ride until he knew her destination, 
 and singular manner of leaving her were all accounted 
 for by this dreadful discovery, and Mrs. Wilson found the 
 solution of her doubts rushing on her mind with a force 
 and rapidity that sickened her. 
 
 The misfortunes of Mrs. Fitzgerald, the unfortunate 
 issue to the passion of Jane, were trifles in the estimation 
 of Mrs. Wilson, compared to the discovery of Denbigh's 
 unworthiness. She revolved in her mind his conduct on 
 various occasions, and wondered how one who could be- 
 have so well in common, could thus yield to temptation on 
 a particular occasion. His recent attempts, his hypocrisy, 
 however, proved that his villany was systematic, and she 
 was not weak enough to hide from herself the evidence of 
 his guilt, or of its enormity. His interposition between 
 Emily and death, she attributed now to natural courage, 
 and perhaps in some measure to chance ; but his profound 
 and unvarying reverence for holy things, his consistent 
 charity, his refusing to fight, to what were they owing? 
 And Mrs. Wilson mourned the weakness of human nature, 
 while she acknowledged to herself, there might be men, 
 qualified by nature, and even disposed by reason and 
 grace, to prove ornaments to religion and the world, who 
 fell beneath the maddening influence cf their besetting 
 sins. The superficial and interested vice? of Egerton van- 
 ished before these awful and deeply seated offences of 
 Denbigh, and the correct widow saw at a glance that he 
 was the last man to be intrusted with the happiness of her 
 niece ; but how to break this heart-rending discovery to 
 Emily was a new source of uneasiness to her, and the car- 
 riage stopped at the door of the lodge ere she had deter- 
 mined on the first step required of her by duty. 
 
 Her brother handed her out, and, filled with the dread 
 that Denbigh had availed himself of the opportunity of her 
 absence to press his suit with Emily, she eagerly inquired 
 
PRECAUTION. 175 
 
 after him. She was rejoiced to hear he had returned with 
 John for a fowling-piece, and together they had gone in 
 pursuit of game, although she saw in it a convincing proof 
 that a desire to avoid Mrs. Fitzgerald, and not indisposi- 
 tion, had induced him to leave her. As a last alternative, 
 she resolved to have the pocket-book returned to him in 
 her presence, in order to see if he acknowledged it to be his 
 property ; and, accordingly, she instructed her own man 
 to hand it to him while at dinner, simply saying he had 
 lost it. 
 
 The open and unsuspecting air with which her niece met 
 Denbigh on his return, gave Mrs. W.lson an additional 
 shock, and she could hardly commr :d herself sufficiently 
 to extend the common courtesies of good breeding to Mr. 
 Benfield's guest. 
 
 While sitting at the dessert, her servant handed the 
 pocket-book as directed by his mistress, to its owner, say- 
 ing, "Your pocket-book, I believe, Mr. Denbigh." Den- 
 bigh took the book, and held it in his hand for a moment 
 in surprise, and then fixed his eye keenly on the man, as 
 he inquired where he found it, and how he knew it was 
 his. These were interrogatories Francis was not prepared 
 to answer, and in his confusion he naturally turned his 
 eyes on his mistress. Denbigh followed their direction 
 with his own, and in encountering the looks of the lady, 
 he asked in a stammering manner, and with a face of scar- 
 let 
 
 "Am I indebted to you, madam, for my property?" 
 
 " No, sir ; it was given to me by one who found it, to 
 restore it to you," said Mrs. Wilson, gravely, and the 
 subject was dropped, both appearing willing to say no 
 more. Yet Denbigh was abstracted and absent during the 
 remainder of the repast, and Emily spoke to him once or 
 twice without obtaining an answer. Mrs. Wilson caught his 
 eye several times fixed on her with an inquiring and doubt- 
 ful expression, that convinced her he was alarmed. If any 
 confirmation of his guilt had been wanting, the conscious- 
 ness he betrayed during this scene afforded it ; and she set 
 seriously about considering the shortest and best method 
 of interrupting his intercourse with Emily, before he had 
 drawn from her an acknowledgment of her love. 
 
176 PRECA UTION. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ON withdrawing to her dressing-room after dinner, Mrs. 
 Wilson commenced the disagreeable duty of removing the 
 veil from the eyes of her niece, by recounting to her the 
 substance of Mrs. Fitzgerald's last communication. To 
 the innocence of Emily such persecution could excite no 
 other sensations than surprise and horror ; and as her aunt 
 omitted the part concerning the daughter of Sir Edward 
 Moseley, she naturally expressed her wonder as to who 
 the wretch could be. 
 
 " Possibly, aunt," she said, with an involuntary shudder, 
 " some of the many gentlemen we have lately seen, and 
 one who has had art enough to conceal his real character 
 from the world." 
 
 "Concealment, my love," replied Mrs. Wilson, " would 
 be hardly necessary. Such is the fashionable laxity of 
 morals, that I doubt not many of his associates would laugh 
 at his misconduct, and that he would still continue to pass 
 with the world as an honorable man." 
 
 "And ready," cried her niece, "to sacrifice human life, 
 in the defence of any ridiculous punctilio." 
 
 "Or," added Mrs. Wilson, striving to draw nearer to 
 her subject, " with a closer veil of hypocrisy, wear even 
 an affectation of principle and moral feeling that would 
 seem to forbid such a departure from duty in favor of 
 custom." 
 
 " Oh ! no, dear aunt," exclaimed Emily, with glowing 
 cheeks and eyes dancing with pleasure, " he woul'd hardly 
 dare to be so very base. It would be profanity." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson sighed heavily as she witnessed that con- 
 fiding esteem which would not permit her niece even to 
 suspect that an act which in Denbigh had been so warmly 
 applauded, could, even in another, proceed from unworthy 
 motives ; and she found it would be necessary to speak in 
 the plainest terms, to awaken her suspicions. Willing, 
 however, to come gradually to the distressing truth, she re- 
 plied 
 
 "And yet, my dear, men who pride themselves greatly 
 on their morals, nay, even some who wear the mask of re- 
 ligion, and perhaps deceive themselves, admit and practise 
 this very appeal to arms. Such inconsistencies are by no 
 means uncommon. And why then might there not, with 
 
PRECAUTION'. 177 
 
 equal probability, be others who would revolt at murder, 
 and yet not hesitate being guilty of lesser enormities? 
 This is, in some measure, the case of every man ; and it is 
 only to consider killing in unlawful encounters as murder, 
 to make it one in point." 
 
 " Hypocrisy is so mean a vice, I should not think a brave 
 man could stoop to it," said Emily, "and Julia admits he 
 was brave." 
 
 " And would not a brave man revolt at the cowardice of 
 insulting an unprotected woman ? And your hero did that 
 too," replied Mrs. Wilson, bitterly, losing her self-com- 
 mand in indignation. 
 
 " Oh ! do not call him my hero, I beg of you, dear aunt," 
 said Emily, starting, excited by so extraordinary an illu- 
 sion, but instantly losing the unpleasant sensation in the 
 delightful consciousness of the superiority of the man on 
 whom she had bestowed her own admiration. 
 
 " In fact, my child," continued her aunt, "our natures are 
 guilty of the grossest inconsistencies. The vilest wretch 
 has generally some property on which he values himself, 
 and the most perfect are too often frail on some tender 
 point. Long and tried friendships are those only which 
 can be trusted, and these oftentimes fail." 
 
 Emily looked at her aunt in surprise at hearing her 
 utter such unusual sentiments ; for Mrs. Wilson, at the same 
 time she had, by divine assistance, deeply impressed her 
 niece with the frailty of her nature, had withheld the dis- 
 gusting representation of human vices from her view, as un- 
 necessary to her situation and dangerous to her humility. 
 
 After a short pause, Mrs. Wilson continued, " Marriage 
 is a fearful step in a woman, and one she is compelled, in 
 some measure, to adventure her happiness on, without fit- 
 ting opportunities of judging of the merit of the man she 
 confides in. Jane is an instance in point, but I devoutly 
 hope you are not to be another." 
 
 While speaking, Mrs. Wilson had taken the hand of 
 Emily, and by her looks and solemn manner she had suc- 
 ceeded in alarming her niece, although Denbigh was yet 
 furthest from the thoughts of Emily. The aunt reached 
 her a glass of water, and willing to get rid of the hateful 
 subject, she continued, hurriedly, " Did you not notice the 
 pocket-book Francis gave to Mr. Denbigh ? " .Emily fixed 
 her inquiring eyes on her aunt, as the other added, " It 
 was the one Mrs. Fitzgerald gave me to-day." Something 
 like an indefinite glimpse of the facts crossed the mind of 
 
r 7 S PRECAUTION. 
 
 Emily ; and as it most obviously involved a separation frdm 
 Denbigh, she sank lifeless into the extended arms of her 
 aunt This had been anticipated by Mrs. Wilson, and a 
 timely application of restoratives soon brought her back 
 to a consciousness of misery. Mrs. Wilson, unwilling any 
 one but herself should witness this first burst of grief, suc- 
 ceeded in getting her niece to her own room and in bed. 
 Emily made no lamentations shed no tears asked no 
 questions her eye was fixed, and every faculty appeared 
 oppressed with the load on her heart. Mrs. Wilson knew 
 her situation too well to intrude with unseasonable conso- 
 lation or useless reflections, but sat patiently by her side, 
 waiting anxiously for the moment she could be of service. 
 At fength the uplifted eyes and clasped hands of Emily 
 assured her she had not forgotten herself or her duty, and 
 she was rewarded for her labor and forbearance by a flood 
 of tears. Emily was now able to listen to a more full 
 statement of the reasons her aunt had for believing in the 
 guilt of Denbigh, and she felt as if her heart was frozen 
 up forever, as the proofs followed each other until they 
 amounted to demonstration. As there was some indica- 
 tion of fever from her agitated state of mind, her aunt re- 
 quired she should remain in her room until morning ; and 
 Emily, feeling every way unequal to a meeting with Den- 
 bigh, gladly assented. After ringing for her maid to sit 
 in the adjoining room, Mrs. Wilson went below, and an- 
 nounced to the family the indisposition of her charge and 
 her desire to obtain a little sleep. Denbigh looked anxious 
 to inquire after the health of Emily, but there was a re- 
 straint on all his actions since the return of his book that 
 persuaded Mrs. Wilson he apprehended that a detection 
 of his conduct had taken place. He did venture to ask 
 when they were to have the pleasure of seeing Miss Mose- 
 ley again, hoping it would be that evening, as he had fixed 
 the morning for his departure ; and when he learned that 
 Emily had retired for the night, his anxiety was sensibly 
 increased, and he instantly withdrew. Mrs. Wilson was 
 alone in the drawing-room, and about to join her niece, as 
 Denbigh entered it with a letter in his hand : he approached 
 her with a diffident and constrained manner, and com- 
 menced the following dialogue : 
 
 " My anxiety arid situation will plead my apology for 
 troubling Miss Moseley at this time may I ask you, 
 madam, to deliver this letter I hardly dare ask you for 
 your good offices." 
 
PRECAUTION. 179 
 
 Mrs. Wilson took the letter, and coldly replied, 
 
 "Certainly, sir ; and I sincerely wish I could be of any 
 real service to you." 
 
 " I perceive, madam," said Denbigh, like one that was 
 choking, " I have forfeited your good opinion that pocket- 
 book "- 
 
 " Has made a dreadful discovery," said Mrs. Wilson, 
 shuddering. 
 
 " Will riot one offence be pardoned, dear madam ? " cried 
 Denbigh, with warmth; "if you knew my circumstances 
 the cruel reasons why why did I neglect the paternal 
 advice of Dr. Ives?" 
 
 " It is not yet too late, sir," said Mrs. Wilson, more 
 mildly, " for your own good ; as for us, your decep- 
 tion "- 
 
 " Is unpardonable I see it I feel it," cried he, in the 
 accent of despair; "yet Emily Emily may relent you 
 will at least give her my letter anything is better than 
 this suspense." 
 
 " You shall have an answer from Emily this evening, 
 and one entirely unbiassed by me," said Mrs. Wilson. As 
 she closed the door, she observed Denbigh gazing on her 
 retiring figure with a countenance of despair, that caused 
 a feeling of pity to mingle with her detestation of his vices. 
 
 On opening the door of Emily's room, Mrs. Wilson found 
 her niece in tears, and her anxiety for her health was alle- 
 viated. She knew or hoped, that if she could once call in 
 the assistance of her judgment and piety to lessen her sor- 
 rows, Emily, however she might mourn, would become re- 
 signed to her situation ; and the first step to attain this was 
 the exercise of those faculties which had been, as it were, 
 momentarily annihilated. Mrs. Wilson kissed her niece 
 with tenderness, as she placed the letter in her hand, and 
 told her she would call for her answer within an hour. 
 Employment, and the necessity of acting, would, she 
 thought, be the surest means of reviving her energies ; nor 
 was she disappointed. When the aunt returned for the ex- 
 pected answer, she was informed by the maid in the ante- 
 chamber, that Miss Moseley was up, and had been writing. 
 On entering, Mrs. Wilson stood a moment in admiration 
 of the picture before her. Emily was on her knees, and, 
 by her side, on the carpet, lay the letter and its answer ; 
 her face was hid by her hair, and her hands were closed in 
 the fervent grasp of petition. In a minute she rose, and 
 approaching her aunt with an air of profound resignation, 
 
iSo PRECA UTION. 
 
 but great steadiness, she handed her the letters, her own 
 unsealed : 
 
 " Read them, madam, and if you approve of mine, I will 
 thank you to deliver it." 
 
 Her aunt folded her in her arms, until Emily, finding 
 herself yielding under the effects of sympathy, begged to 
 be left alone. On withdrawing to her own room, Mrs. 
 Wilson read the contents of the two letters. 
 
 " I rely greatly on the goodness of Miss Moseley to par- 
 don the liberty I am taking, at a moment she is so unfit foi 
 such a subject ; but my departure my feelings must 
 plead my apology. From the moment of my first acquaint- 
 ance with you, I have been a cheerful subject to your 
 loveliness and innocence. I feel I know I am not de- 
 serving of such a blessing ; but since knowing you, as I 
 do, it is impossible not to strive to win you. You have 
 often thanked me as the preserver of your life, but you 
 little knew the deep interest I had in its safety. Without 
 it, my own would be valueless. By accepting my offered 
 hand, you will place me among the happiest, or, by reject- 
 ing it, the most wretched of men." 
 
 To this note which was unsigned, and evidently written 
 under great agitation of mind, Emily had penned the fol- 
 lowing reply : 
 
 " Sir It is with much regret that I find myself reduced 
 to the possibility of giving uneasiness to one to whom I 
 am under such heavy obligations. It will never be in my 
 power to accept the honor you have offered me ; and I beg 
 you to receive my thanks for the compliment conveyed in 
 your request, as well as my good wishes for your happi- 
 ness in future, and fervent prayers that you may be ever 
 tound worthy of it. Your humble servant, 
 
 " EMILY MOSELEY." 
 
 Perfectly satisfied with this answer, Mrs. Wilson went 
 below in order to deliver it at once. She thought it prob- 
 able, as Denbigh had already sent his baggage to a tavern, 
 preparatory to his intended journey, they would not meet 
 again ; and as she felt a strong wish, both on account of 
 Dr. Ives, and out of respect to the services of the young 
 man himself, to conceal his conduct from the world en- 
 tirely, she was in hopes that his absence might make any 
 
PRECA C/TJOW. 181 
 
 disclosure unnecessary. He took the letter from her with 
 a trembling hand, and casting one of his very expressive 
 looks at her, as if to read her thoughts, he withdrew. 
 
 Emily had fallen asleep free from fever, and Mrs. Wilson 
 had descended to the supper-room, when Mr. Benfield was 
 first struck with the absence of his favorite. An inquiry 
 after Denbigh was instituted, and, while they were waiting 
 his appearance, a servant handed the old, man a note. 
 
 " From whom ?" cried Mr. Benfield, in surprise. 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh, sir." said the servant. 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh ? " exclaimed Mr. Benfield : " no acci- 
 dent, I hope I remember when Lord Gosford here, 
 Peter, your eyes are young ; read it for me, read it aloud." 
 
 As all but Mrs. Wilson were anxiously waiting to know 
 the meaning of this message, and Peter had many prepara- 
 tions to go through before his youthful eyes could make 
 out the contents, John hastily caught the letter out of his 
 hand, saying he would save him the trouble, and, in obe- 
 dience to his uncle's wishes, he read aloud : 
 
 "Mr. Denbigh, being under the necessity of leaving 
 L immediately, and, unable to endure the pain of tak- 
 ing leave, avails himself of this means of tendering his 
 warmest thanks to Mr. Benfield, for his hospitality, and to 
 his amiable guests for their many kindnesses. As he con- 
 templates leaving England, he desires to wish them all a 
 long and an affectionate farewell." 
 
 " Farewell ! " cried Mr. Benfield ; " farewell does he say 
 farewell, John ? Here Peter, run no, you are too old 
 John, run bring my hat ; I'll go myself to the village 
 some love-quarrel Emmy sick and Denbigh going away 
 yes yes, I did so myself Lady Juliana, poor dear soul, 
 she was a long time before she could forget it but Peter " 
 Peter had disappeared the instant the letter was finished, 
 and he was quickly followed by John. Sir Edward and 
 Lady Moseley were lost in amazement at this sudden and 
 unexpected movement of Denbigh, and the breast of each 
 of the affectionate parents was filled with a vague appre- 
 hension that the peace of mind of another child was at 
 stake. Jane felt a renewal of her woes, in the anticipation 
 of something similar for her sister for the fancy of Jane 
 was yet active, and she did not cease to consider the defec- 
 tion of Egerton a kind of unmerited misfortune and fatal- 
 ity, instead of a probable consequence of want of principle. 
 
182 PRECA UT1ON. 
 
 Like Mr. Benfield, she was in danger of raising an ideal 
 idol, and of spending the remainder of her days in devo- 
 tion to qualities, rarely if ever found identified with a per- 
 son that never had existed. The old gentleman was en- 
 tirely engrossed by a different object ; and, having in his 
 own opinion decided there must have been one of those 
 misunderstandings which sometimes had occurred to him- 
 self and Lady Juliana, he quietly composed himself to eat 
 his salad at the supper-table : on turning his head, how- 
 ever, in quest of his first glass of wine, he observed Peter 
 standing quietly by the sideboard with the favorite goggles 
 over his eyes. Now Peter was troubled with two kinds of 
 debility about his organs of vision ; one was age and natu- 
 ral weakness, while the other proceeded more directly from 
 the heart. His master knew of these facts, and he took 
 the alarm. Again the wine-glass dropped from his nerve- 
 less hand, as he said in a trembling tone : 
 
 " Peter, I thought you went "- 
 
 "Yes, master," said Peter, laconically. 
 
 "You saw him, Peter will he return ?" 
 
 Peter was busily occupied at his glasses, although no 
 one was dry. 
 
 "Peter," repeated Mr. Benfield, rising from his seat, "is 
 he coming in time for supper ? " 
 
 Peter was obliged to reply, and deliberately uncasing 
 his eyes and blowing his nose, he was on the point of 
 opening his mouth as John came into the room, and threw 
 himself into a chair with an air of great vexation. Peter 
 pointed to the young gentleman in silence, and retired. 
 
 "John," cried Sir Edward, "where is Denbigh ?" 
 
 ''Gone, sir." 
 
 "Gone?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear father," said John, "gone without saying 
 good-by to one of us without telling us whither, or when 
 to return. It was cruel in him unkind I'll never forgive 
 him " and John, whose feelings were strong, and unusu- 
 ally excited, hid his face between his hands on the table. 
 As he raised his head to reply to a question of Mr. Benfield 
 of " how he knew he had gone, for the coach did not go 
 until daylight ? " Mrs. Wilson saw evident marks of tears. 
 Such proofs of emotion in one like John Moseley gave her 
 the satisfaction of knowing that if she had been deceived, 
 it was by a concurrence of circumstances and a depth of 
 hypocrisy almost exceeding belief : self-reproach added less 
 than common, therefore, to the uneasiness of the moment. 
 
PRECA UTION. 183 
 
 "I saw the innkeeper, uncle," said John, "who told me 
 that Denbigh left there at eight o'clock in a post-chaise 
 and four ; but I will go to London in the morning myself." 
 This was no sooner said than it was corroborated by acts, 
 for the young man immediately commenced his prepara- 
 tions for the journey. The family separated that evening 
 with melancholy hearts ; and the host and his privy coun- 
 sellor were closeted for half an hour ere they retired to 
 their night's repose. John took his leave of them, and 
 left the lodge for the inn, with his man, in order to be 
 ready for the mail. Mrs. Wilson looked in upon Emily 
 before she withdrew herself, and found her awake, but 
 perfectly calm and composed : she said but little, appear- 
 ing desirous of avoiding all allusions to Denbigh ; and 
 after her aunt had simply acquainted her with his depart- 
 ure, and her resolution to conceal the cause, the subject 
 was dropped. Mrs. Wilson, on entering her own room, 
 thought deeply on the discoveries of the day ; they had in- 
 terfered with her favorite system of morals, baffled her 
 ablest calculations upon causes and effects, but in no de- 
 gree had impaired her faith or reliance on Providence. 
 She knew one exception did not destroy a rule : she was 
 certain without principles there was no security for good 
 conduct, and the case of Denbigh proved it. To discover 
 these principles, might be difficult ; but was a task imperi- 
 ously required at her hands, as she believed, ere she yielded 
 the present and future happiness of her pupil to the power 
 of any man. 
 
 i CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE day had not yet dawned, when John Moseley was 
 summoned to take his seat in the mail for London. Three 
 of the places were already occupied, and John was com- 
 pelled to get a seat for his man on the outside. An inter- 
 course with strangers is particularly irksome to an Eng- 
 lishman, and none appeared disposed, for a long time, to 
 break the silence. The coach had left the little village of 
 L - far behind it, before any of the rational beings it 
 contained thought it prudent or becoming to bend in the 
 least to the charities of our nature, in a communication 
 with a fellow-creature of whose name or condition he hap- 
 pened to be ignorant. This reserve is unquestionably" 
 characteristic of the nation ; to what is it owing modesty ? 
 
1 54 PRECA UTION-. 
 
 Did not national and deep personal vanity appear at once 
 to refute the assertion, we might enter into an investiga- 
 tion of it. The good opinion of himself in an Englishman 
 is more deeply seated, though less buoyant, than that of 
 his neighbors ; in them it is more of manner, in us more of 
 feeling ; and the wound inflicted on the self-love of the 
 two is very different. The Frenchman wonders at its rude- 
 ness, but soon forgets the charge ; while an Englishman 
 broods over it in silence and mortification. It is said this 
 distinction in character is owing to the different estimation 
 of principles and morals in the two nations. The solidity 
 and purity of our ethics and religious creeds may have 
 given a superior tone to our moral feeling ; but has that 
 man a tenable ground to value himself on either, whose 
 respect to sacred things grows out of a respect to himself : 
 on the other hand, is not humility the very foundation of 
 the real Christian ? For our part, we should be glad to 
 see this national reserve lessened, if not done entirely 
 away ; we believe it is founded in pride and uncharitable- 
 ness, and could wish to see men thrown accidentally to- 
 gether on the roads of the country, mindful that they are 
 also travelling in company the highway of life, and that 
 the goal of their destination is equally attainable by all. 
 
 John Moseley was occupied with thoughts very different 
 from those of any of his fellow-travellers, as they proceeded 
 rapidly on their route ; and it was only when roused from 
 his meditations by accidentally coming in contact with 
 the hilt of a sword, that he looked up, and in the glimmev 
 ings of the morning's light recognized the person of 
 Lord Henry Stapleton : their eyes met, and " My Lord," 
 " Mr. Moseley," were repeated in mutual surprise. 
 John was eminently a social being, and he was happy to 
 find recourse against his gloomy thoughts in the conversa- 
 tion of the dashing young sailor. The frigate of the other 
 had entered the bay the night before, and he was going to 
 town to the wedding of his sister ; the coach of his brother 
 the marquis was to meet him about twenty miles from 
 town, and the ship was ordered round to Yarmouth, where 
 he was to rejoin her. 
 
 " But how are your lovely sisters, Moseley ? " cried the 
 young sailor, in a frank and careless manner. " I should 
 have been half in love with one of them if I had time 
 and money ; both are necessary to marriage nowadays, 
 you know." 
 
 " As to time/' said John, with a laugh, " I believe that 
 
PRECA UTION". i$5 
 
 may be dispensed with, though money is certainly a differ- 
 ent thing." 
 
 "Oh, time, too," replied his lordship. "I have never 
 time enough to do anything as it ought to be done always 
 hurried I wish you could recommend to me a lady who 
 would take the trouble off my hands." 
 
 "It might be done," said John, with a smile, and the 
 image of Kate Chatterton crossed his brain, but it was 
 soon succeeded by that of her more lovely sister. " But 
 how do you manage on board your ship hurried there, 
 too ?" 
 
 " Oh ! never there," replied the captain, gravely ; " that's 
 duty, you know, and everything must be regular, of 
 course ; on shore it is a different thing there I am only 
 
 a passenger. L has a charming society, Mr. Mose- 
 
 ley a week or ten days ago I was shooting, and came to 
 a beautiful cottage about five miles from the village, that 
 was the abode of a much more beautiful woman, a Span- 
 iard, a Mrs. Fitzgerald I am positively in love with her ; 
 so soft, so polished, so modest "- 
 
 " How came you acquainted with her ?" inquired Mose- 
 ley, interrupting him in a little surprise. 
 
 " Chance, my dear fellow, chance. I was thirsty and 
 approached for a drink of water ; she was sitting in the 
 veranda, and being hurried for time, you know, it saved 
 the trouble of introduction. I fancy she is troubled with 
 the same complaint, for she managed to get rid of me in 
 no time, and with a great deal of politeness. I found out 
 her name, however, at the next house." 
 
 During this rattling talk, John had fixed his eyes on the 
 face of one of the passengers who sat opposite to him. 
 The stranger appeared to be about fifty years of age, 
 strongly pock-marked, with a stiff military air, and had 
 the dress and exterior of a gentleman. His face was much 
 sunburnt, though naturally very fair ; and his dark keen 
 eye was intently fixed on the sailor as he continued his 
 remarks. 
 
 '" Do you know such a lady, Moseley ?" 
 
 "Yes," said John, "though very slightly ; she is visited 
 by one of my sisters, and "- 
 
 "Yourself," cried Lord Henry, with a laugh. 
 
 " Myself, once or twice, my lord, certainly," answered 
 John, gravely ; " but a lady visited by Emily Moseley and 
 Mrs. Wilson is a proper companion for any one. Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald is very retired in her manner of living, and 
 
,36 PRECA UTION. 
 
 cnance made us acquainted ; but not being, like your lord- 
 ship, in want of time, we have endeavored to cultivate her 
 society, as we have found it very agreeable." 
 
 The countenance of the stranger underwent several 
 changes during this speech of John's, and at its close his 
 eyes rested on him with a softer expression than generally 
 marked its rigid and compressed muscles. Willing to 
 change a discourse that was growing too particular for a 
 mail coach, John addressed himself to the opposite passen- 
 gers, while his eye yet dwelt on the face of the military 
 stranger. 
 
 "We are likely to have a fine day, gentlemen." The 
 soldier bowed stiffly as he smiled his assent, and the other 
 passenger humbly answered, "Very, Mr. John," in the 
 well-known tones of honest Peter Johnson. Moseley 
 started, as he turned his face for the first time on the lank 
 figure which was modestly compressed into the smallest 
 possible compass in the corner of the coach, in a way not 
 to come in contact with any of his neighbors. 
 
 "Johnson," exclaimed John, in astonishment, "you 
 here ! Where are you going to London ? " 
 
 "To London, Mr. John," replied Peter, with a look of 
 much importance ; and then, by way of silencing further 
 interrogatories, he added, " On my master's business, sir." 
 
 Both Moseley and Lord Henry examined him closely ; 
 the former wondering what could take the steward, at the 
 age of seventy, for the first time in his life, into the vortex 
 of the capital ; and the latter in admiration at the figure 
 and equipments of the old man. Peter was in full cos- 
 tume, with the exception of the goggles, and was in reality 
 a subject to be gazed at ; but nothing relaxed the muscles 
 or attracted the particular notice of the soldier, who, hav- 
 ing regained his set form of countenance, appeared drawn 
 up in himself, waiting patiently for the moment he was 
 expected to act. Nor did he utter more than as many 
 words in the course of the first fifty miles of their journey. 
 His dialect was singular, and such as put his hearers at a 
 loss to determine his country. Lord Henry stared at him 
 every time he spoke, as if to say, what countryman are 
 you ? until at length he suggested to John he was some 
 officer whom the downfall of Bonaparte had driven into 
 retirement. 
 
 " Indeed, Moseley," he added, as they were about to re- 
 sume their carriage after a change^of horses, "we must draw 
 him out and see what he thinks of his master now deli 
 
PRECA UTION: 187 
 
 cately, you know." The soldier was, however, impervious 
 to his lordship's attacks, until the project was finally aban- 
 doned in despair. As Peter was much too modest to talk 
 in the presence of Mr. John Moseley and a lord, the young 
 men had most of the discourse to themselves. At a vil- 
 lage fifteen miles from London, a fashionable carriage and 
 four, with the coronet of a marquis, was in waiting for 
 Lord Henry. John refused his invitation to take a seat 
 with him to town ; for he had traced Denbigh from stage 
 to stage, and was fearful of losing sight of him. unless he 
 persevered in the manner he had commenced. Peter and 
 he accordingly were put down safely at an inn in the 
 Strand, and Moseley hastened to make his inquiries after 
 the object of his pursuit. Such a chaise had arrived an 
 hour before, and the gentleman had ordered his trunk to 
 a neighboring hotel. After obtaining the address and or- 
 dering a hackney coach, he hastened to the house ; but 
 inquiring for Mr. Denbigh, to his great mortification was 
 told they knew of no such gentleman. John turned away 
 from the person he was speaking to in visible disappoint- 
 ment, when a servant respectfully inquired if the gentle- 
 man had not come from L , in Norfolk, that day. " He 
 
 had," was the reply. " Then follow me, sir, if you please." 
 They knocked at a door of one of the parlors, and the 
 servant entered : he returned, and John was shown into a 
 room, where Denbigh was sitting with his head resting 
 on his hand, and apparently musing. On seeing who 
 required admittance, he sprang from his seat and ex- 
 claimed 
 
 "Mr. Moseley ! Do I see aright ?" 
 
 " Denbigh," cried John, stretching out his hand to him, 
 " was this kind was it like yourself to leave us so unex- 
 pectedly, and for so long a time, too, as your note men- 
 tioned?" 
 
 Denbigh waved his hand to the servant to retire, and 
 handed a chair to his friend. 
 
 " Mr. Moseley," said he, struggling with his feelings, 
 "you appear ignorant of my proposals to your sister." 
 
 " Perfectly," answered the amazed John. 
 
 "And her rejection of them." 
 
 " Is it possible ? " cried the brother, pacing up and 
 down the room. " I acknowledge I did expect you to 
 offer, but not to be refused." 
 
 Denbigh placed in the other's hand the letter of Emily, 
 which, -having read, John returned with a sigh. "This, 
 
i88 PRECA UTION". 
 
 then, is the reason you left us," he continued. " Emily it 
 not capricious it cannot be a sudden pique she means 
 as she says." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Moseley," said Denbigh, mournfully ; "your 
 sister is faultless but I am not worthy of her my de- 
 ception " here the door again opened to the admission 
 of Peter Johnson. Both the gentlemen rose at this sud- 
 den interruption, and the steward advancing to the table, 
 once more produced the formidable pocket-book, the 
 spectacles, and a letter. He ran over its direction "For 
 George Denbigh, Esquire, London, by the hands of Peter 
 Johnson, with care and speed." After the observance of 
 these preliminaries, he delivered the missive to its lawful 
 owner, who opened it, and rapidly perused its contents. 
 Denbigh was much affected with whatever the latter 
 might be, and kindly took the steward by the hand, as he 
 thanked him for this renewed instance of the interest he 
 took in him. If he would tell him where a letter would 
 find him in the morning, he would send a reply to the one 
 he had received. Peter gave his address, but appeared 
 unwilling to go, until assured again and again that the 
 answer would be infallibly sent. Taking a small account- 
 book out of his pocket, and referring to its contents, the 
 steward said, " Master has with Coutts & Co. ^7,000 ; in 
 the bank ^5,000. It can be easily done, sir, and never 
 felt by us." Denbigh smiled in reply, as he assured the 
 steward he would take proper notice of his master's offers 
 in his own answer. The door again opened, and the mili- 
 tary stranger was admitted to their presence. He bowed, 
 appeared not a little surprised to find two of his mail- 
 coach companions there, and handed Denbigh a letter, in 
 quite as formal although in a more silent manner than 
 the steward. The soldier was invited to be seated, and 
 the letter was perused with an evident curiosity on the 
 part of Denbigh. As soon as the latter ended it, he ad- 
 dressed the stranger in a language which John rightly 
 judged to be Spanish, and Peter took it to be Greek. For 
 a few minutes the conversation was maintained between 
 them with great earnestness, his fellow-travellers marvel- 
 ling much at the garrulity of the soldier ; however, the 
 stranger soon rose to retire, when the door was thrown 
 open for the fourth time, and a voice cried out, 
 
 " Here I am, George, safe and sound ready to kiss the 
 bridesmaids, if they will let me and I can find time bless 
 me, Moseley ! old marling-spike ! general ! whew, where 
 
PRECAUTION. 183 
 
 is the coachman and guard ? " It was Lord Henry Staple- 
 ton. The Spaniard bowed again in silence, and withdrew, 
 while Denbigh threw open the door of an adjoining room 
 and excused himself, as he desired Lord Henry to walk in 
 there for a few minutes. 
 
 " Upon my word," cried the heedless sailor, as he com- 
 plied, "we might as well have stuck together, Moseley; 
 we were bound to one port, it seems." 
 
 " You know Lord Henry ? " said John, as he withdrew. 
 
 " Yes," said Denbigh, and he again required his address 
 of Peter, which having been given, the steward departed. 
 The conversation between the two friends did not return 
 to the course it was taking when they were interrupted, as 
 Moseley felt a delicacy in making any allusion to the 
 probable cause of his sister's refusal. He had, however, 
 begun to hope it was not irremovable, and with the deter- 
 mination of renewing his visit in the morning, he took his 
 leave, to allow Denbigh to attend to his other guest, Lord 
 Henry Stapleton. 
 
 About twelve on the following morning, John and the 
 steward met at the door of the hotel where Denbigh lodged, 
 in quest of the same person. The latter held in his hand 
 the answer to his master's letter, but wished particularly 
 to see its writer. On inquiring, to their mutual surprise 
 they were told that the gentleman had left there early in 
 the morning, having discharged his lodgings, and that they 
 were unable to say whither he had gone. To hunt for a 
 man without a clew, in the city of London, is usually time 
 misspent. Of this Moseley was perfectly sensible, and 
 disregarding a proposition of Peter's, he returned to his 
 own lodgings. The proposal of the steward, if it did not 
 do much credit to his sagacity, was much in favor of his 
 perseverance and enterprise. It was no other than that 
 John should take one side of the street and he the other, 
 in order to inquire at every house in the place, until the 
 fugitive was discovered. " Sir," said Peter, with great 
 simplicity, " when our neighbor White lost his little girl, 
 this was the way we found her, although we went nearly 
 
 through L before we succeeded, Mr. John." Peter 
 
 was obliged to abandon this expedient for want of an 
 associate, and as no message was left at the lodgings of 
 Moseley, he started with a heavy heart on his return to 
 Benfield Lodge. But Moseley's zeal was too warm in the 
 cause of his friend, notwithstanding his unmerited deser- 
 tion, to discontinue the search for hjrn. He sought out 
 
i go PR EC A UTION. 
 
 the town residence of the Marquis of Eltririgham, trie 
 brother of Lord Henry, and was told that both the marquis 
 and his brother had left town early that morning for his 
 seat in Devonshire, to attend the wedding of their sister. 
 
 " Did they go alone ? " asked John, musing. 
 
 " There were two chaises, the marquis's and his grace's.' 1 
 
 " Who was his grace ?" inquired John. 
 
 "Why the Duke of Derwent, to be sure." 
 
 " And the duke was he alone ? " 
 
 " There was a gentleman with his grace, but they did not 
 know his name." 
 
 As nothing further could be learned, John withdrew. 
 A good deal of irritation mixed with the vexation of Mose- 
 ley at his disappointment ; for Denbigh, he thought, too 
 evidently wished to avoid him. That he was the com- 
 panion of his kinsman, the Duke of Derwent, he had now 
 no doubt, and he entirely relinquished all expectations of 
 finding him in London or its environs. While retracing 
 his steps, in no enviable state of mind, to his lodgings, 
 
 with a resolution of returning immediately to L , his 
 
 arm was suddenly taken by his friend Chatterton. If any 
 man could have consoled John at that moment, it was the 
 baron. Questions and answers were rapidly exchanged 
 between them ; and with increased satisfaction, John 
 learned that in the next square he could have the pleasure 
 of paying his respects to his kinswoman, the Dowager 
 Lady Chatterton, and her two daughters. Chatterton 
 inquired warmly after Emily, and in a particularly kind 
 manner concerning Mr. Denbigh, hearing with undisguised 
 astonishment the absence of the latter from the Moseley 
 family. 
 
 Lady Chatterton had disciplined her feelings upon the 
 subject of Grace and John into such a state of subordina- 
 tion, that the fastidious jealousy of the young man now 
 found no ground of alarm in anything she said or did. It 
 cannot be denied the dowager was delighted to see him 
 again ; and, if it were fair to draw any conclusions from 
 colorings, palpitations, and other such little accompani- 
 ments of female feeling, Grace was not excessively sorry. 
 It is true, it was the best possible opportunity to ascertain 
 all about her friend Emily and the rest of the family ; and 
 Grace was extremely happy to have intelligence of their 
 general welfare so direct as was afforded by this visit of 
 Mr. Moseley. Grace looked all she expressed, and possibly 
 a little more ; and John thought she looked very beautiful. 
 
PRECA UTION. 191 
 
 There was present an elderly gentleman, of apparently 
 indifferent health, although his manners were extremely 
 lively, and his dress particularly studied. A few minutes' 
 observation convinced Moseley this gentleman was a can- 
 didate for the favor of Kate ; and a game of chess being 
 soon introduced, he also saw he was one thought worthy 
 of peculiar care and attention. He had been introduced 
 to him as Lord Herriefield, arid soon discovered by his 
 conversation that he was a peer who promised little toward 
 rendering the house of incurables more convalescent than 
 it was before his admission. Chatterton mentioned him as 
 a distant connection of his mother ; a gentleman who had 
 lately returned from filling an official situation in the East 
 Indies, to take his seat among the lords by the death of 
 his brother. He was a bachelor, and reputed rich, much 
 of his wealth being personal property, acquired by himself 
 abroad. The dutiful son might have added, if respect and 
 feeling had not kept him silent, that his offers of settling 
 a large jointure upon his elder sister had been accepted, 
 and that the following week was to make her the bride of 
 the emaciated debauchee who now sat by her side. He 
 might also have said that when the proposition was made 
 to himself and Grace, both had shrunk from the alliance 
 with disgust ; and that both had united in humble though 
 vain remonstrances to their mother against the sacrifice, 
 and in petitions to their sister that she would not be acces- 
 sory to her own misery. There was no pecuniary sacrifice 
 they would not make to her, to avert such a connection ; 
 but all was fruitless Kate was resolved to be a viscount- 
 ess, and her mother was equally determined that she should 
 be rich. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A DAY elapsed between the departure of Denbigh and 
 the reappearance of Emily among her friends. An indif- 
 ferent observer would have thought her much graver and 
 less animated than usual. A loss of the rich color which 
 ordinarily glowed on her healthful cheek, might be no- 
 ticed ; but the placid sweetness and graceful composure 
 which regulated her former conduct pervaded all she did 
 or uttered. Not so with Jane ; her pride had suffered 
 more than her feelings her imagination had been more 
 deceived than her judgment and although too well bred 
 
192 PR EC A f/TfOJV. 
 
 and soft by nature to become rude or captious, she was 
 changed from a communicative to a reserved, from a con- 
 fiding to a suspicious companion. Her 'parents noticed 
 this alteration with an uneasiness that was somewhat em- 
 bittered by the consciousness of a neglect of some of those 
 duties that experience now seemed to indicate, could never 
 be forgotten with impunity. 
 
 Francis and Clara had ^arrived from their northern tour, 
 so happy in each other, and so contented with their lot, 
 that it required some little exercise of fortitude in both 
 Lady Moseley and her daughters, to expel unpleasant rec- 
 ollections while they contemplated it. Their relation of 
 the little incidents of their tour had, however, an effect to 
 withdraw the attention of their friends in some degree from 
 late occurrences ; and a melancholy and sympathizing 
 kind of association had taken place of the unbounded con- 
 fidence and gayety, which so lately prevailed at Benfield 
 Lodge. Mr. Benfield mingled with his solemnity an air of 
 mystery, and he was frequently noticed by his relatives 
 looking over old papers, and was apparently employed in 
 preparations that indicated movements of more than usual 
 importance. 
 
 The family were collected in one of the parlors on an 
 extremely unpleasant day, the fourth after the departure 
 of John, when the thin person of Johnson stalked in among 
 them. All eyes were fixed on him in expectation of what 
 he had to communicate, and all apparently dreading to 
 break the silence, from an apprehension that his commu- 
 nication would be unpleasant. In the meantime Peter, 
 who had respectfully left his hat at the door, proceeded to 
 uncase his body from the multiplied defences he had taken 
 against the inclemency of the weather. His master stood 
 erect with an outstretched hand, ready to receive the reply 
 to his epistle ; and Johnson having liberated his body from 
 thraldom, produced the black leathern pocket-book, and 
 from its contents a letter, when he read aloud Roderic 
 Benfield, Esq., Benfield Lodge, Norfolk ; favored by Mr. 
 Here Peter's modesty got the better of his method. 
 He had never been called Mr. Johnson by anybody, old or 
 young ; all knew him in that neighborhood as Peter John- 
 son and he had very nearly been guilty of the temerity of 
 arrogating to himself another title, in the presence of those 
 he most respected ; a degree of self-elevation from which 
 he escaped with the loss of a small piece of his tongue. 
 Mr. Benfield took the letter with an eagerness that plainly 
 
PRECA UTION. 193 
 
 indicated the deep interest he took in its contents, while 
 Emily, with a tremulous voice and flushed cheek, ap- 
 proached the steward with a glass of wine. 
 
 " Peter," she said, "take this ; it will do you good." 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Emma," said Peter, casting his eyes 
 from her to his master, as the latter, having finished his 
 letter, exclaimed, with a strange mixture of consideration 
 and disappointment 
 
 " Johnson, you must change your clothes immediately, 
 or you will take cold : you look now like old Moses, the 
 Jew beggar." 
 
 Peter sighed heavily at this comparison, and saw in it a 
 confirmation of his fears ; for he well knew, that to his 
 being the bearer of unpleasant tidings was he indebted for 
 a resemblance to anything unpleasant to his master, and 
 Moses was the old gentleman's aversion. 
 
 The baronet now followed his uncle from the room to 
 his library, entering it at the same moment with the stew- 
 ard, who had been summoned by his master to an audi- 
 ence. 
 
 Pointing to a chair for his nephew, Mr. Benfield com- 
 menced the discourse with saying, 
 
 " Peter, you saw Mr. Denbigh ; how did he look ?" 
 
 " As usual, master," said Peter, laconically, still piqued 
 at being likened to old Moses. 
 
 " And what did he say to the offer ? Did he not make 
 any comments on it ? He was not offended at it, I hope ?" 
 demanded Mr. Benfield. 
 
 " He said nothing but what he has written to your 
 honor," replied the steward, losing a little of his con- 
 strained manner in real good feeling to his master. 
 
 " May I ask what the offer was ? " inquired Sir Edward. 
 
 Mr. Benfield regarding him a moment in silence, said, 
 " Certainly, yo 1 * ire nearly concerned in his welfare ; your 
 daughter" the old man stopped, turned to his letter- 
 book, and handed the baronet a copy of the epistle he 
 had sent to Denbigh. It read as follows : 
 
 " DEAR FRIEND, MR. DENBIGH, 
 
 " I have thought a great deal on the reason of your sud- 
 den departure from a house I had begun to hope you 
 thought your own ; and by calling to mind my own feel- 
 ings when Lady Juliana became the heiress to her nephew's 
 estate, take it for granted you have been governed by the 
 same sentiments ; which I know both by my own experi- 
 
I 9 4 PRECA UTION. 
 
 ence and that of the bearer, Peter Johnson, is a never- 
 failing accompaniment of pure affection. Yes, my dear 
 Denbigh, I honor your delicacy in not wishing to become 
 indebted to a stranger, as it were, for the money on which 
 you subsist, and that stranger your wife who ought in 
 reason to look up to you, instead of you looking up to 
 her ; which was the true cause Lord Gosford would not 
 marry the countess on account of her great wealth, as he 
 assured me himself ; notwithstanding envious people said 
 it was because her ladyship loved Mr. Chaworth better : 
 so in order to remove these impediments of delicacy, 
 I have to make three propositions, namely, that I bring 
 you into Parliament the next election for my own bor- 
 ough that you take possession of the lodge the day you 
 marry Emmy, while I will live, for the little time I have to 
 stay here, in the large cottage built by my uncle and that 
 I give you your legacy of ten thousand pounds down, to 
 prevent trouble hereafter. 
 
 " As I know nothing but delicacy has driven you away 
 from us, I make no doubt you will now find all objections 
 removed, and that Peter will bring back the joyful intelli- 
 gence of your return to us, as soon as the business you left 
 us on is completed. 
 
 " Your uncle, that is to be, 
 
 " RODERIC BENFIELD." 
 
 " N. B. As Johnson is a stranger to the ways of the 
 town, I wish you to advise his inexperience, particularly 
 against the arts of designing women, Peter being a man of 
 considerable estate, and great modesty." 
 
 "There, nephew," cried Mr. Benfield, as the baronet 
 finished reading the letter aloud, " is it not unreasonable 
 to refuse my offers ? Now read his answer." 
 
 "Words are wanting to express the sensations which 
 Kave been excited by Mr. Benfield's letter ; but it would 
 be impossible for any man to be so base as to avail himself 
 of such liberality : the recollection of it, together with that 
 of his many virtues, will long continue deeply impressed 
 on the heart of him whom Mr. Benfield would, if within 
 the power of man, render the happiest among human 
 beings." 
 
 The steward listened eagerly to this answer, but after it 
 
PRECA UTION. 19$ 
 
 was done he was as much at a loss to know its contents as 
 before its perusal. He knew it was unfavorable to their 
 wishes, but could not comprehend its meaning or expres- 
 sions, and immediately attributed their ambiguity to the 
 strange conference he had witnessed between Denbigh and 
 the military stranger. 
 
 " Master," exclaimed Peter, with something of the elation 
 of a discoverer, " I know the cause, it shows itself in the 
 letter : there was a man talking Greek to him while he 
 was reading your letter." 
 
 '" Greek !" exclaimed Sir Edward in astonishment. 
 
 " Greek ! " said the uncle. " Lord Gosford read Greek ; 
 but I believe never conversed in that language." 
 
 " Yes, Sir Edward yes, your honor pure wild Greek ; 
 it must have been something of that kind," added Peter, 
 with positiveness, " that would make a man refuse such 
 offers Miss Emmy the lodge ^10,000!" and the 
 steward shook his head with much satisfaction at having 
 discovered the cause. 
 
 Sir Edward smiled at the simplicity of Johnson, but dis- 
 liking the idea attached to the refusal of his daughter, 
 said, 
 
 " Perhaps, after all, uncle, there has been some misun- 
 derstanding between Emily and Denbigh, which may have 
 driven him from us so suddenly." 
 
 Mr. Benfield and his steward exchanged looks, and a 
 new idea broke upon them at the instant. They had both 
 suffered in that way ; and after all it might prove that 
 Emily was the one whose taste or feelings had subverted 
 their schemes. The impression, once made, soon became 
 strong, and the party separated ; the master thinking al- 
 ternately on Lady Juliana and his niece, while the man, 
 after heaving one heavy sigh to the memory of Patty Steele, 
 proceeded to the usual occupations of his office. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson thinking a ride would be of service to Emily, 
 and having the fullest confidence in her self-command and 
 resignation, availed herself of a fine day to pay a visit to 
 their friend in the cottage. Mrs. Fitzgerald received them 
 in her usual manner, but a single glance of her eye suf- 
 ficed to show the aunt that she noticed the altered appear- 
 ance of Emily and her manners, although without knowing 
 its true reason, which she did not deem it prudent to ex- 
 plain. Julia handed her friend a note which she said she 
 had received the day before, and desired their counsel how 
 to proceed in the present emergency. As Emily was to be 
 
196 PRECAUTION". 
 
 made acquainted with its contents, her aunt read it aloud 
 as follows : 
 
 "Mv DEAR NIECE, 
 
 " Your father and myself had been induced to think you 
 were leading a disgraceful life, with the officer your hus- 
 band had consigned you to the care of ; for hearing of 
 your captivity, I had arrived with a band of Guerillas, on 
 the spot where you were rescued, early the next morning, 
 and there learned of the peasants your misfortunes and re- 
 treat. The enemy pressed us too much to allow us to de- 
 viate from our route at the time ; but natural affection and 
 the wishes of your father have led me to make a journey 
 to England, in order to satisfy our doubts as regards your 
 conduct. I have seen you, heard your character in the 
 neighborhood, and after much and long search have found 
 out the officer, and am satisfied, that so far as concerns 
 your deportment, you are an injured woman. I have 
 therefore to propose to you, on my own behalf, and that 
 of the conde, that you adopt the faith of your country, and 
 return with me to the arms of your parent, whose heiress 
 you will be, and whose life you may be the means of pro- 
 longing. Direct your answer to me, to the care of our 
 ambassador ; and as you decide, I am your mother's 
 brother, Louis M'CARTHY y HARRISON." 
 
 " On what point do you wish my advice," said Mrs. Wil- 
 son, kindly, after she had finished reading the letter, "and 
 when do you expect to see your uncle ? " 
 
 "Would you have me accept the offer of my father, dear 
 madam, or am I to remain separated from him for the 
 short residue of his life ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald was affected to tears, as she asked this 
 question, and waited her answer, in silent dread of its 
 nature. 
 
 " Is the condition of a change of religion an immovable 
 one ?" inquired Mrs. Wilson, in a thoughtful manner. 
 
 " O ! doubtless," replied Julia, shuddering ; " but I am 
 deservedly punished for my early disobedience, and bow 
 in submission to the will of Providence. I feel now all 
 that horror of a change of my religion, I once only 
 affected ; I must live and die a Protestant, madam." 
 
 "Certainly, I hope so, my dear," said Mrs. Wilson ; " I 
 am not a bigot, and think it unfortunate you were not, in 
 your circumstances, bred a pious Catholic. It would have 
 
PRECA UTION. 197 
 
 saved you much misery, and might have rendered the close 
 of your father's life more happy ; but as your present 
 creed embraces doctrines too much at variance with the 
 Romish church to renounce the one or to adopt the other, 
 with your views, it will be impossible to change your 
 church without committing a heavy offence against the 
 opinions and practices of every denomination of Chris- 
 tians. I should hope a proper representation of this to 
 your uncle would have its weight, or they might be satisfied 
 with your being a Christian, without becoming a Catholic," 
 
 "Ah! my dear madam," answered Mrs. Fitzgerald, de- 
 spairingly, "you little know the opinions of my country- 
 men on this subject." 
 
 "Surely, surely," cried Mrs. Wilson, "parental affection 
 is a stronger feeling than bigotry." 
 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald shook her head in a manner which be- 
 spoke both her apprehensions and her filial regard. 
 
 "Julia ought not, must not desert her father, dear 
 aunt," said Emily, her face glowing with the ardency of 
 her feelings. 
 
 "And ought she to desert her heavenly Father, my 
 child?" asked the aunt, mildly. 
 
 "Are the duties conflicting, dearest aunt?" 
 
 "The conde makes them so. Julia is, I trust, in sin- 
 cerity a Christian, and with what face can she offer up her 
 daily petitions to her Creator, while she wears a mask to 
 her earthly father ; or how can she profess to honor doc- 
 trines that she herself believes to be false, or practise cus- 
 toms she thinks improper ?" 
 
 " Never, never," exclaimed Julia, with fervor ; " the 
 struggle is dreadful, but I submit to the greater duty." 
 
 "And you decide rightly, my friend," said Mrs. Wilson, 
 soothingly ; " but you need relax no efforts to convince 
 the conde of your wishes : truth and nature will finally 
 conquer." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Mrs. Fitzgerald, " the sad consequences of 
 one false step in early life ! " 
 
 " Rather," added Mrs. Wilson, " the sad consequences of 
 one false step in generations gone by. Had your grand- 
 mother listened to the voice of prudence and duty, she 
 never would have deserted her parents for a comparative 
 stranger, and entailed upon her descendants a train of evils 
 which yet exist in your person." 
 
 " It will be a sad blow to my poor uncle, too," said Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald, " he who once loved me so much." 
 
198 PRECA UTION. 
 
 " When do you expect to see him ?" inquired Emily. 
 
 Julia informed them she expected him hourly ; as, fear, 
 ful a written statement of her views would drive him 
 from the country without paying her a visit before he de- 
 parted, she had earnestly entreated him to see her without 
 delay. 
 
 On taking their leave, the ladies promised to obey her 
 summons whenever called to meet the general, as 'Mrs. 
 Wilson thought she might be better able to give advice 
 to a friend, by knowing more of the character of her rela- 
 tives, than she could do with her present information. 
 
 One day intervened, and it was spent in the united 
 society of Lady Moseley and her daughters, while Sir Ed- 
 ward and Francis rode to a neighboring town on business ; 
 and on the succeeding, Mrs. Fitzgerald apprised them of 
 the arrival of General M'Carthy. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast Mrs. Wilson and Emily 
 drove to the cottage, the aunt both wishing the latter as a 
 companion in her ride, and believing the excitement would 
 have a tendency to prevent her niece from indulging in re- 
 flections, alike dangerous to her peace of mind and at 
 variance with her duties. 
 
 Our readers have probably anticipated, that the stage 
 companion of John Moseley was the Spanish general, who 
 had just been making those inquiries into the manner of 
 his niece's living which terminated so happily in her ac- 
 quittal. With that part of his history which relates to the 
 injurious attempts on her before she arrived at Lisbon, he 
 appears to have been ignorant, or his interview with Den- 
 bigh might have terminated very differently from the man- 
 ner already related. 
 
 A description of the appearance of the gentleman pre- 
 sented to Mrs. Wilson is unnecessary, as it has been given 
 already ; and the discerning matron thought she read 
 through the rigid and set features of the soldier a shade 
 of kinder feelings which might be wrought into an advan* 
 tageous intercession on behalf of Julia. The general was 
 evidently endeavoring to keep his feelings within due 
 bounds, before the decision of his niece might render it 
 proper for him to indulge in that affection for her, which 
 his eye plainly showed existed under the cover of his as- 
 sumed manner. 
 
 It was an effort of great fortitude on the part of Julia to 
 acquaint her uncle with her resolution ; but as it must be 
 done, she seized a moment after Mrs. Wilson had at some 
 
PRECAUTION'. 199 
 
 length defended her adhering to her present faith, until 
 religiously impressed with its errors, to inform him such 
 was her unalterable resolution. He heard her patiently, 
 and. without anger, but in visible surprise. He had con- 
 strued her summons to her house into a measure prepara- 
 tory to accepting his conditions ; yet he betrayed no emo- 
 tion, after the first expression of his wonder : he told her 
 distinctly, a renunciation of her heresy was the only con- 
 dition on which her father would own her either as his heir- 
 ess or his child. Julia deeply regretted the decision, but 
 was firm ; and her friends left her to enjoy uninterruptedly 
 for one day, the society of so near a relative. During this 
 day every doubt as to the propriety of her conduct, if any 
 yet remained, was removed by a relation of her little story 
 to her uncle ; and after it was completed, he expressed 
 great uneasiness to get to London again, in order to meet 
 a gentleman he had seen there, under a different impres- 
 sion as to his merits, than what now appeared to be just. 
 Who the gentleman was, or what these impressions were, 
 Julia was left to conjecture, taciturnity being t a favorite 
 property in the general. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE sun had just risen on one of the loveliest vales of 
 Caernarvonshire, as a travelling chaise and six swept up 
 to the door of a princely mansion, so situated as to com- 
 mand a prospect of the fertile and extensive domains, the 
 rental of which filled the coffers of its rich owner, having 
 a beautiful view of the Irish Channel in the distance. 
 
 Everything around this stately edifice bespoke the mag- 
 nificence of its ancient possessors and the taste of its 
 present master. It was irregular, but built of the best 
 materials, and in the tastes of the different ages in which 
 its various parts had been erected ; and now in the nine- 
 teenth century it preserved the baronial grandeur of the 
 thirteenth, mingled with the comforts of this later period. 
 
 The lofty turrets of its towers were tipped with the 
 golden light of the sun, and the neighboring peasantry 
 had commenced their daily labors, as the different attend- 
 ants of the equipage we have mentioned collected around 
 it at the great entrance to the building. The beautiful 
 black horses, with coats as shining as the polished leather 
 
200 PR EC A UTiON. 
 
 with which they were caparisoned, the elegant and fashion- 
 able finish of the vehicle, with its numerous grooms, pos- 
 tilions, and footmen, all wearing the livery of one master, 
 gave evidence of wealth and rank. 
 
 In attendance there were four outriders, walking leisure!} 
 about, awaiting the appearance of those for whose com 
 forts and pleasures they were kept, to contribute ; while n 
 fifth, who, like the others, was equipped with a horse, 
 appeared to bear a doubtful station. The form of the 
 latter was athletic,^ and apparently drilled into a severer 
 submission than could be seen in the movements of the 
 liveried attendants : his dress was peculiar, being neither 
 quite menial nor quite military, but partaking of both 
 characters. His horse was heavier and better managed 
 than those of the others, and by its side was a charger, 
 that \vas prepared for the use of no common equestrian. 
 Both were coal-black, as were all the others of the caval- 
 cade ; but the pistols of the two latter, and housings of 
 their saddles, bore the aspect of use and elegance united. 
 
 The postilions were mounted, listlessly waiting the pleas- 
 ure of their superiors ; when the laughs and jokes of the 
 menials were instantly succeeded by a respectful and pro- 
 found silence, as a gentleman and lady appeared on the 
 portico of the building. The former was a young man of 
 commanding stature and genteel appearance ; and his air, 
 although that of one used to command, was softened by a 
 character of benevolence and gentleness, that might be 
 rightly supposed to give birth to the willing alacrity with 
 which all his requests or orders were attended to. 
 
 The lady was also young, and resembled her companion 
 both in features and expression, for both were noble, both 
 were handsome. The former was attired for the road ; the 
 latter had thrown a shawl around her elegant form, and 
 by her morning dress showed that a separation of the two 
 was about to happen. Taking the hand of the gentleman 
 with both of her own, as she pressed it with fingers inter- 
 locked, the lady said, in a voice of music, and with great 
 affection, 
 
 " Then, my dear brother, I shall certainly hear from you 
 within the week, and see you next ?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied the gentleman, as he tenderly paid 
 his adieus ; then throwing himself into the chaise, it dashed 
 from the door, like the passage of a meteor. The horsemen 
 followed ; the unridden charger, obedient to the orders of 
 his keeper, wheeled gracefully into his station ; and in an 
 
PR EC A UTION. 201 
 
 instant they were all lost amidst the wood, through which 
 the road to the park gates conducted. 
 
 After lingering without until the last of her brother's 
 followers had receded from her sight, the lady retired 
 through ranks of liveried footmen and maids, whom curi- 
 osity or respect had collected. 
 
 The young traveller wore a gloom on his expressive 
 features, amidst the pageantry that surrounded him, which 
 showed the insufficiency of wealth and honors to fill the 
 sum of human happiness. As his carriage rolled proudly 
 up an eminence ere he had reached the confines of his ex- 
 tensive park, his eyes rested, for a moment, on a scene in 
 which meadows, forests, fields waving with golden corn, 
 comfortable farm-houses surrounded with innumerable 
 cottages, were seen in almost endless variety. All these 
 owned him for their lord, and one quiet smile of satisfac- 
 tion beamed on his face as he gazed on the unlimited 
 view. Could the heart of that youth have been read, it 
 would at that moment have told a story very different from 
 the feelings such a scene is apt to excite ; it would have 
 spoken the consciousness of well applied wealth, the grati- 
 fication of contemplating meritorious deeds, and a heart- 
 felt gratitude to the Being which had enabled him to be- 
 come the dispenser of happiness to so many of his fellow- 
 creatures. 
 
 "Which way, my lord, so early ?" cried a gentleman in 
 a phaeton, as he drew up, on his way to a wntering-place, 
 to pay his own parting compliments. 
 
 "To Eltringham, Sir Owen, to attend the marriage of 
 my kinsman, Mr. Denbigh, to one of the sisters of the 
 marquis." 
 
 A few more questions and answers, and the gentlemen, 
 exchanging friendly adieus, pursued each his own course ; 
 Sir Owen Ap Rice pushing forward for Cheltenham, and 
 the Earl of Pendennyss proceeding to act as groomsman 
 to his cousin. 
 
 The gates of Eltringham were open to the admission of 
 many an equipage on the following day, and the heart of 
 the Lady Laura beat quick, as the sound of wheels, at dif- 
 ferent times, reached her ears. At last an unusual move- 
 ment in the house drew her to a window of her dressing- 
 room, and the blood rushed to her heart as she beheld the 
 equipages which were rapidly approaching, and through 
 the mist which stole over her eyes she saw alight from the 
 first, the Duke of Derwent and the bridegroom, The next 
 
202 PRECA UTION. 
 
 contained Lord Pendennyss, and the last the Bishop 
 
 of . Lady Laura waited to see no more, but with a 
 
 heart filled with terror, hope, joy, and uneasiness, she 
 threw herself into the arms of one of her sisters. 
 
 "Ah ! " exclaimed Lord Henry Stapleton, about a week 
 after the wedding of his sister, seizing John suddenly by 
 the arm, while the latter was taking his morning walk to 
 the residence of the Dowager Lady Chatterton, " Mose- 
 ley, you dissipated youth, in town yet ! you told me you 
 should stay but a day, and here I find you at the end of 
 a fortnight." 
 
 John blushed a little at the consciousness of his reason 
 for sending a written, instead of carrying a verbal report, 
 of the result of his journey, but replied, 
 
 "Yes, my friend Chatterton unexpectedly arrived, and 
 so and so " 
 
 "And so you did not go, I presume you mean," cried 
 Lord Henry, with a laugh. 
 
 "Yes," said John, " and so I staid but where is Den- 
 bigh?" 
 
 " Where? why with his wife, where every well-be- 
 haved man should be, especially for the first month," re- 
 joined the sailor, gayly. 
 
 "Wife !" echoed John, as soon as he felt able to give 
 utterance to his words "wife ! is he married?" 
 
 " Married," cried Lord Henry, imitating his manner, 
 " are you yet to learn that ? Why did you ask for him ? " 
 
 Ask for him ?" said Moseley, yet lost in astonishment ; 
 "but when how where did he marry my lord ?" 
 
 Lord Henry looked at him for a moment with a surprise 
 little short of his own, as he answered more gravely : 
 
 "When? last Tuesday ; how? by special license, and 
 
 the Bishop of ; where ? at Eltringham. Yes, my 
 
 dear fellow," continued he, with his former gayety, 
 " George is my brother now and a fine fellow he is." 
 
 " I really wish your lordship much joy," said John, strug- 
 gling to command his feelings. 
 
 " Thank you thank you," replied the sailor; "a jolly 
 time we had of it, Moseley. I wish, with all my heart, you 
 had been there ; no bolting or running away as soon as 
 spliced, but a regularly-constructed, old-fashioned wed- 
 ding ; all my doings. I wrote Laura that time was scarce, 
 and I had none to throw away on fooleries ; so, dear, good 
 soul, she consented to let me have everything my own way. 
 We had Derwent and Pendennyss, the marquis, Lord Wil 
 
PRECA UTION. 203 
 
 liam, and myself, for groomsmen, and my three sisters 
 ah, that was bad, but there was no helping it Lady Har- 
 riet Denbigh, and an old maid, a cousin of ours, for brides- 
 maids ; could not help the old maid, either, upon my honor, 
 or be quite certain I would." 
 
 How much of what he said Moseley heard, we cannot 
 say ; for had he talked an hour longer he would have been 
 uninterrupted. Lord Henry was too much engaged with 
 his description to notice his companion's taciturnity or sur- 
 prise, and after walking a square or two together they 
 parted ; the sailor being on the wing for his frigate at 
 Yarmouth. 
 
 John continued his course, musing on the intelligence 
 he had just heard. That Denbigh could forget Emily so 
 soon, he would not believe, and he greatly feared he had 
 been driven into a step, from despair, that he might here- 
 after repent of. The avoiding of himself was now fully 
 explained ; but would Lady Laura Stapleton accept a man 
 for a husband at so short a notice ? and for the first time a 
 suspicion that something in the character of Denbigh was 
 wrong, mingled in his reflections on his sister's refusal of 
 his offers. 
 
 Lord and Lady Herriefield were on the eve of their de- 
 parture for the continent (for Catherine had been led to 
 the altar the preceding week), a southern climate having 
 been prescribed as necessary to the bridegroom's constitu- 
 tion ; and the dowager and Grace were about to proceed 
 to a seat of the baron's within a couple of miles of Bath. 
 Chatterton himself had his own engagements, but he 
 promised to be there in company with his friend Derwent 
 within a fortnight ; the former visit having been post- 
 poned by the marriages in their respective families. 
 
 John had been assiduous in his attentions during the 
 season of forced ga}^ety which followed the nuptials of 
 Kate ; and as the dowager's time was monopolized with 
 the ceremonials of that event, Grace had risen greatly in 
 his estimation. If Grace Chatterton was not more misera- 
 ble than usual, at what she thought was the destruction of 
 her sister's happiness, it was owing to the presence and 
 unconcealed affection of John Moseley. 
 
 The carriage of Lord Herriefield was in waiting when 
 John rang for admittance. On opening the door and en- 
 tering the drawing-room, he saw the bride and bridegroom, 
 with their mother and sister, accoutred for an excursion 
 among the shops of Bund Street ; for Kate was dying to 
 
204 PRECA UT1ON. 
 
 find a vent for some of her surplus pin-money her hus- 
 band to show his handsome wife in the face of the world 
 the mother to display the triumph of her matrimonial 
 schemes. And Grace was forced to obey her mother's 
 commands, in accompanying her sister as an attendant, 
 not to be dispensed with at all in her circumstances. 
 
 The entrance of John at that instant, though nothing 
 more than what occurred every day at that hour, deranged 
 the whole plan ; the dowager, for a moment, forgot her 
 resolution, and forgot the necessity of Grace's appearance, 
 exclaiming with evident satisfaction, 
 
 " Here is Mr. Moseley come to keep you company, 
 Grace ; so, after all, you must consult your headache and 
 stay at home. Indeed, my love, I never can consent you 
 should go out. I not only wish, but insist you remain 
 within this morning." 
 
 Lord Herriefield looked at his mother-in-law in some 
 surprise, and threw a suspicious glance on his own rib at 
 the moment, which spoke as plainly as looks can speak, 
 
 " Is it possible I have been taken in, after all ? " 
 
 Grace was unused to resist her mother's commands, and 
 throwing off her hat and shawl, reseated herself with more 
 composure than she would probably have done, had not 
 the attentions of Moseley been more delicate and pointed 
 of late than formerly. 
 
 As they passed the porter, Lady Chatterton observed to 
 him significantly " Nobody at home, Willis." "Yes, my 
 lady," was the laconic reply, and Lord Herriefield, as he 
 took his seat by the side of his wife in the carriage, thought 
 she was not as handsome as usual. 
 
 Lady Chatterton that morning unguardedly laid the 
 foundation of years of misery for her eldest daughter : or 
 rather the foundations were already laid in the ill-assorted 
 and heartless unprincipled union she had labored with suc- 
 cess to effect. But she had that morning stripped the 
 mask from her own character prematurely, and excited 
 suspicions in the breast of her son-in-law, which time only 
 served to confirm, and memory to brood over. 
 
 Lord Herriefield had been too long in the world not to 
 understand all the ordinary arts of match-makers and 
 match-hunters. Like most of his own sex who have asso- 
 ciated freely with the worst part of the other, his opinions 
 of female excellences were by no means extravagant or 
 romantic. Kate had pleased his eye ; she was of a noble 
 family ; young, and at that moment interestingly quiet, 
 
PRECA UTION. 205 
 
 having nothing particularly in view. She had a taste of 
 her own, and Lord Herriefield was by no means in con- 
 formity with it ; consequently, she expended none of those 
 pretty little arts upon him which she occasionally prac- 
 tised, and which his experience would immediately have 
 detected. Her disgust he had attributed to disinterested- 
 ness ; and as Kate had fixed her eye on a young officer 
 lately returned from France, and her mother on a duke 
 who was mourning the death of a third wife, devising 
 means to console him with a fourth the viscount had got 
 a good deal enamored with the lady, before either she or 
 her mother took any particular notice that there was such 
 a being in existence. His title was not the most elevated, 
 but it was ancient. His paternal acres were not numer- 
 ous, but his East India shares were. He was not very 
 young, but he was not very old ; and as the duke died of a 
 fit of the gout in his stomach, and the officer ran away 
 with a girl in her teens from a boarding school, the dow- 
 ager and her daughter, after thoroughly scanning the 
 fashionable world, determined, for want of a better, that 
 he would do. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that the mother and child held 
 any open communication with each other to this effect. 
 The delicacy and pride of both would have been greatly 
 injured by such a suspicion ; yet they arrived simultane- 
 ously at the same conclusion, as well as at another of equal 
 importance to the completion of their schemes on the vis- 
 count. It was simply to adhere to the same conduct which 
 had made him a captive, as most likely to insure the victory. 
 
 There was such a general understanding between the 
 two it can excite no surprise that they co-operated har- 
 moniously as it were by signal. 
 
 For two people, correctly impressed with their duties 
 and responsibilities, to arrive at the same conclusion in the 
 government of their conduct, would be merely a matter of 
 course ; and so with those who are more or less under the 
 dominion of the world. They will pursue their plans with 
 a degree of concurrence amounting nearly to sympathy ; 
 and thus had Kate and her mother, until this morning, 
 kept up the masquerade so well that the viscount was as 
 confiding as a country Corydon. When he first witnessed 
 the dowager's management with Grace and John, however, 
 and his wife's careless disregard of a thing which appeared 
 too much a matter of course to be quite agreeable, his 
 newly awakened distrust approached conviction. 
 
206 PRECA UTION. 
 
 Grace Chatterton both sang and played exquisitely ; it 
 was, however, seldom she could sufficiently overcome her 
 desire, when John was an auditor, to appear to advantage. 
 
 As the party went down stairs, and Moseley had gone 
 with them part of the way, she threw herself unconsciously 
 on a seat, and began a beautiful song that was fashionable 
 at the time. Her feelings were in consonance with the 
 words, and Grace was very happy both in execution and 
 voice. 
 
 John had reached the back of her seat before she was at 
 all sensible of his return, and Grace lost her self-command 
 immediately. She rose and took a seat on a sofa, and the 
 young man was immediately at her side. 
 
 "Ah, Grace," said John, the lady's heart beating high, 
 "you certainly do sing as you do everything, admirably." 
 
 " I am happy you think so, Mr. Moseley," returned 
 Grace, looking everywhere but in his face. 
 
 John's eyes ran over her beauties, as with palpitating 
 bosom and varying color she sat confused at the unusual 
 warmth of his language and manner. 
 
 Fortunately a remarkably striking likeness of the dow- 
 ager hung directly over their heads, and John taking her 
 unresisting hand, continued, 
 
 " Dear Grace, you resemble your mother very much in 
 features, and what is better still, in character." 
 
 " I could wish," said Grace, venturing to look up, "to 
 resemble your sister Emily in the latter." 
 
 "And why not to be her sister, dear Grace ?" said he 
 with ardor. " You are worthy to become her sister. Tell 
 me, Grace, dear Miss Chatterton can you^ will you make 
 me the happiest of men ? May I present another inestima- 
 ble daughter to my parents ? " 
 
 As John paused for an answer Grace looked up, and he 
 waited her reply in evident anxiety ; but she continued 
 silent, now pale as death, and now of the color of the rose, 
 and he added : 
 
 " I hope I have not offended you, dearest Grace : you 
 are all that is desirable to me ; my hopes, my happiness, 
 are centred in you. Unless you consent to become my 
 wife, I must be very wretched." 
 
 Grace burst into a flood of tears as her lover, interested 
 deeply in their cause, gently drew her toward him. Her 
 head sank on his shoulder, as she fairly whispered some- 
 thing that was inaudible, but which he. did not fail to in- 
 terpret into everything he most wished to hear. John 
 
PRECA UTION. 207 
 
 was in ecstasies. Every unpleasant feeling of suspicion 
 had left him. Of Grace's innocence of manoeuvring he 
 never doubted, but John did not relish the idea of being 
 entrapped into anything, even a step which he desired. An 
 uninterrupted communication followed ; it was as confid- 
 ing as their affections ; and the return of the dowager and 
 her children first recalled them to the recollection of other 
 people. 
 
 One glance at the eye was enough for Lady Chatterton. 
 She saw the traces of tears on the cheeks and in the eyes 
 of Grace, and the dowager was satisfied ; she knew his 
 friends would not object ; and as Grace attended her to 
 her dressing-room, she cried on entering it, "Well, child, 
 when is the wedding to be ? You will wear me out with 
 so much gayety." 
 
 Grace was shocked, but did not, as formerly, weep over 
 her mother's interference in agony and dread. John had 
 opened his whole soul to her, observing the greatest deli- 
 cacy toward her mother, and she now felt her happiness 
 placed in the keeping of a man whose honor she believed 
 much exceeded that of any other human being. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE seniors of the party at Benfield Lodge were all as- 
 sembled one morning in a parlor, when its master and 
 the baronet were occupied in the perusal of the London 
 papers. Clara had persuaded her sisters to accompany 
 her and Francis in an excursion as far as the village. 
 
 Jane yet continued reserved and distant to most of her 
 friends ; while Emily's conduct would have escaped un- 
 noticed, did not her blanched cheek and wandering looks 
 at times speak a language not to be misunderstood. With 
 all her relatives she maintained the affectionate inter- 
 course she had always supported ; though not even to 
 her aunt did the name of Denbigh pass her lips. But in 
 her most private and humble petitions to God she never 
 forgot to mingle with her requests for spiritual blessings 
 on herself fervent prayers for the conversion of the pre- 
 server of her life. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson, as she sat by the side of her sister at their 
 needles, first discovered an unusual uneasiness in their 
 venerable host, while he turned his paper over and over, 
 
208 PRECA U 
 
 as if unwilling or unable to comprehend some part of its 
 contents, until he rang the bell violently, and bid the ser 
 vant to send Johnson to him without a moment's delay. 
 
 " Peter," said Mr. Benfield, doubtingly, "read that your 
 eyes are young, Peter ; read that." 
 
 Peter took the paper, and after having adjusted his 
 spectacles to h ; s satisfaction, he proceeded to obey his 
 master's injunctions ; but the same defect of vision as sud- 
 denly seized the steward as it had affected his master. He 
 turned the paper sideways, and appeared to be spelling 
 the matter of the paragraph to himself. Peter would have 
 given his three hundred a year to have had the impatient 
 John Moseley at hand, to relieve him from his task ; but 
 the anxiety of Mr. Benfield overcoming his fear of the 
 worst, he inquired in a tremulous tone 
 
 " Peter ? hem ! Peter, what do you think ?" 
 
 "Why, your honor," replied the steward, stealing a look 
 at his master, " it does seem so, indeed." 
 
 "I remember," said the master, "when Lord Gosford 
 saw the marriage of the countess anounced he " 
 
 Here the old gentleman was obliged to stop, and rising 
 with dignity, and leaning on the arm of his faithful ser- 
 vant, he left the room. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson immediately took up the paper, and her 
 eye catching the paragraph at a glance, she read aloud as 
 follows to her expecting friends : 
 
 " Married, by special license, at the seat of the Most 
 Noble the Marquis of Eltringham, in Devonshire, by the 
 
 Right Rev. Lord Bishop of , George Denbigh, Esq., 
 
 Lieutenant Colonel of his Majesty's - - regiment of 
 dragoons, to the Right Honorable Lady Laura Stapleton, 
 eldest sister of the Marquis. Eltringham was honored on 
 the present happy occasion with the presence of his grace 
 of Derwent, and th& gallant Lord Pendennyss, kinsman of 
 the bridegroom, and Captain Lord Henry Stapleton, of 
 the Royal Navy. We understand that the happy couple 
 proceed to Denbigh Castle immediately after the honey- 
 moon." 
 
 Although Mrs. Wilson had given up the expectation of 
 ever seeing her niece the wife of Denbigh, she felt an inde- 
 scribable shock as she read this paragraph. The strongest 
 feeling was horror at the danger Emily had been in of 
 contracting an alliance with such a man. His avoiding 
 the ball, at which he knew Lord Henry was expected, was 
 e^nlained to her by this marriage ; for with John, she 
 
PR EC A UTION. 209 
 
 could not believe a woman like Lady Laura Stapleton 
 was to be won in the short space of one fortnight, or 
 indeed less. There was too evidently a mystery yet to be 
 developed, and, she felt certain, one that would not ele- 
 vate his character in her opinion. 
 
 Neither Sir Edward nor Lady Moseley had given up the 
 expectation of seeing Denbigh again, as a suitor for Emily's 
 hand, and to both of them this certainty of his loss was a 
 heavy blow. The baronet took up the paper, and after 
 perusing the article, he muttered in a low tone, as he wiped 
 the tears from his eyes, " Heaven bless him ; I sincerely 
 hope she is worthy of him." Worthy of him, thought Mrs. 
 Wilson, with a feeling of indignation, as, taking up the 
 paper, she retired to her own room, whither Emily, at that 
 moment returned from her walk, had proceeded. As her 
 niece must hear this news, she thought the sooner the bet- 
 ter. The exercise, and the unreserved conversation of 
 Francis and Clara, had restored in some degree the bloom 
 to the cheek of Emily ; and Mrs. Wilson felt it necessary 
 to struggle with herself before she could summon sufficient 
 resolution to invade the returning peace of her charge. 
 However, having already decided on her course, she pro- 
 ceeded to the discharge of what she thought to be a duty. 
 
 tl Emily, my child," she whispered, pressing her affec- 
 tionately to her bosom, "you have been all I could wish, 
 and more than I expected, under your arduous struggles. 
 But one more pang, and I trust your recollections on this 
 painful subject will be done away." 
 
 Emily looked at her aunt in anxious expectation of what 
 was coming, and quietly taking the paper, followed the di- 
 rection of Mrs. Wilson's finger to the article on the mar- 
 riage of Denbigh. 
 
 There was a momentary struggle in Emily for self-com- 
 mand. She was obliged to find support in a chair. The 
 returning richness of color, excited by her walk, vanished ; 
 but, recovering herself, she pressed the hand of her anxious 
 guardian, and, gently waving her back, proceeded to her 
 own room. 
 
 On her return to the company the same control of her 1 
 feelings which had distinguished her conduct of late was 
 again visible ; and, although her aunt most narrowly 
 watched her movements, looks, and speeches, she could 
 discern no visible alteration by this confirmation of mis- 
 conduct. The truth was, that in Emily Moseley the obliga- 
 tions of duty were so imperative, her sense of her depend- 
 
 14 
 
210 PRECAUTION. 
 
 ence on Providence so humbling and yet so confiding, that 
 us soon as she was taught to believe her lover unworthy of 
 her esteem, that moment an insuperable barrier separated 
 them. His marriage could add nothing to the distance be- 
 tween them. It was impossible they could be united ; and 
 although a secret lingering of the affections over his fallen 
 character might and did exist, it existed without any roman- 
 tic expectations of miracles in his favor, or vain wishes of 
 reformation, in which self was the prominent feeling. She 
 might be said to be keenly alive to all that concerned his 
 welfare or movements, if she did not harbor the passion of 
 love ; but it showed itself in prayers for his amendment of 
 life, and the most ardent petitions for his future and eter- 
 nal happiness. She had set about, seriously and with 
 much energy, the task of erasing from her heart sentiments 
 which, however delightful she had found it to entertain in 
 times past, were now in direct variance with her duty. 
 She knew that a weak indulgence of such passions would 
 tend to draw her mind from, and disqualify her to dis- 
 charge, those various calls on her time and her exertions 
 which could alone enable her to assist others, or effect in 
 her own person the great purposes of her creation. It was 
 never lost sight of by Emily Moseley that her existence 
 here was preparatory to an immensely more important 
 state hereafter. She was consequently in charity with all 
 mankind ; and if grown a little more distrustful of the in- 
 tentions of her fellow-creatures, it was a mistrust bottomed 
 in a clear view of the frailties of our nature ; and self- 
 examination was among the not unfrequent speculations 
 she made on this hasty marriage of her former lover. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson saw all this, and was soon made acquainted 
 by her niece in terms with her views of herown condition ; 
 and although she had to, and did deeply regret, that all 
 her caution had not been able to guard against deception, 
 where it was most important for her to guide aright, yet 
 she was cheered with the reflection that her previous care, 
 with the blessings of Providence, had admirably fitted her 
 charge to combat and overcome the consequences of their 
 mistaken confidence. 
 
 The gloom which this little paragraph excited extended 
 to every individual in the family, for all had placed Den- 
 bigh by the side of John in their affections, ever since his 
 weighty services to Emily. 
 
 A letter from John announcing his intention of meeting 
 them at Bath, as well as his new relation with Grace, re- 
 
PRECAUTION. 21 i 
 
 Heved in some measure this general depression uf spirits. 
 Mr. Benfield alone found no consolation in the approach- 
 ing nuptials. John he regarded as his nephew, and Grace 
 he thought a very good sort of young woman ; but nei- 
 ther of them were beings of the same genus with Emily 
 and Denbigh. 
 
 " Peter," said he one day, after they had both been ex- 
 pending their ingenuity in vain efforts to discover the 
 cause of this so-much-desired marriage being so unex- 
 pectedly frustrated, "have I not often told you, that fate 
 governed these things, in order that men might be hum- 
 ble in this life ? Now, Peter, had the Lady Juliana wed- 
 ded with a mind congenial to her own, she might have been 
 mistress of Benfield Lodge to this very hour." 
 
 <; Yes, your honor but there's Miss Emmy's legacy." 
 
 And Peter withdrew, thinking what would have been 
 the consequences had Patty Steele been more willing, 
 when he wished to make her Mrs. Peter Johnson an as- 
 sociation by no means uncommon in the mind of the stew- 
 ard ; for if Patty had ever a rival in his affections, it was 
 in the person of Emily Moseley, though, indeed, with very 
 different degrees and coloring of esteem. 
 
 The excursions to the cottage had been continued by 
 Mrs. Wilson and Emily, and, as no gentleman was now in 
 the family to interfere with their communications, a gen- 
 eral visit to the young widow had been made by the Mose- 
 leys, including Sir Edward and Mr. Ives. 
 
 The Jarvises had gone to London to receive their chil- 
 dren, now penitent in more senses than one ; and Sir Ed- 
 ward learned with pleasure that Egerton and his wife had 
 been admitted into the fanfily of the merchant. 
 
 Sir Edgar had died suddenly, and the entailed estates 
 had fallen to his successor, the colonel, now Sir Harry; 
 but the bulk of his wealth, being in convertible property, 
 he had given by will to his other nephew, a young clergy- 
 man, and a son of a younger brother. Mary, as well as 
 her mother, was greatly disappointed by this deprivation 
 of what they considered their lawful splendor ; but they 
 found great consolation in the new dignity of Lady Eger- 
 ton, whose greatest wish now was to meet the Moseleys, 
 in order that she might precede them in or out of some 
 place where such ceremonials are observed. The sound 
 of " Lady Egerton's carriage stops the way," was delight- 
 ful, and it never failed to be used on all occasions, al- 
 though her ladyship was mistress of only a hired vehicle. 
 
212 PRECA UTIOtf. 
 
 A slight insight into the situation of things among them 
 may be found in the following narrative of their views, as 
 revealed in a discussion which took place about a fort- 
 night after the reunion of the family under one roof. 
 
 Mrs. Jarvis was mistress of a very handsome coach, the 
 gift of her husband for her own private use. After hav- 
 ing satisfied herself the baronet (a dignity he Had enjoyed 
 just twenty-four hours) did not possess the ability to furnish 
 his lady, as she termed her daughter, with such a luxury, 
 she magnanimously determined to relinquish her own, in 
 support of the new-found elevation of her daughter. Ac- 
 cordingly, a consultation on the alterations which were 
 necessary took place between the ladies "The arms must 
 be altered, of course," Lady Egerton observed, " and Sir 
 Harry's, with the bloody hand and six quarterings, put in 
 their place ; then the liveries, they must be changed." 
 
 " Oh, mercy ! my lady, if the arms are altered, Mr. Jarvis 
 will be sure to notice it, and he would never forgive me ; 
 and perhaps "- 
 
 " Perhaps what ? " exclaimed the new-made lady, with a 
 disdainful toss of her head. 
 
 "Why," replied the mother, warmly, "not give me the 
 hundred pounds he promised, to have it new lined and 
 painted ? " 
 
 " Fiddlesticks with the painting, Mrs. Jarvis," cried the 
 lady, with dignity : " no carriage shall be called mine that 
 does not bear my arms and the bloody hand." 
 
 " Why, your ladyship is unreasonable indeed you are," 
 said Mrs. Jarvis, coaxingly ; and then, after a moment's 
 thought, she continued, " is it the arms or the baronetcy 
 you want, my dear ? " 
 
 " Oh, I care nothing for the arms, but I am determined, 
 now I am a baronet's lady, Mrs. Jarvis, to have the proper 
 emblem of my rank." 
 
 " Certainly, my lady, that's true dignity. Well, then, we 
 will put the bloody hand on your father's arms, and he will 
 never notice it, for he never sees siich things." 
 
 The arrangement was happily completed, and for a few 
 days the coach of Mr. Jarvis bore about the titled dame, 
 until one unlucky day the merchant, who still went on 
 'Change when any great bargain in the stocks was to be 
 made, arrived at his own door suddenly, to procure a cal- 
 culation he had made on the leaf of his prayer-book the 
 last Sunday during sermon. This he obtained after some 
 search. In his haste, he drove to his broker's in the car- 
 
PRECAUTION-. 213 
 
 riage of his wife, to save time, it happening to be in wait- 
 ing at the moment, and the distance not great. Mr. Jarvis 
 forgot to order the man to return, and for an hour the 
 vehicle stood in one of the most public places in the city. 
 The consequence was, that when Mr. Jarvis undertook to 
 examine into his gains, with the account rendered of the 
 transaction by his broker, he was astonished to read, " Sir 
 Timothy Jarvis, Bart, in account with John Smith, Dr." 
 Sir Timothy examined the account in as many different, 
 ways as Mr. Benfield had examined the marriage of Den- 
 bigh, before he would believe his eyes ; and, when assured 
 of the fact, he immediately caught up his hat, and went to 
 find the man who had dared to insult him, as it were, in de- 
 fiance of the formality of business. Fie had not proceeded 
 one square in the city before he met a friend, who spoke 
 to him by the title ; an explanation of the mistake fol- 
 lowed, and the quasi-baronet proceeded to his stables. 
 Here by actual examination he detected the fraud. An 
 explanation with his consort followed ; and the painter's 
 brush soon effaced the emblem of dignity from the panels 
 of the coach. All this was easy, but with his waggish 
 companions on 'Change and in the city (where, notwith- 
 standing his wife's fashionable propensities, he loved to 
 resort) he was Sir Timothy still. 
 
 Mr. Jarvis, though a man of much modesty, was one of 
 great decision, and he determined to have the laugh on his 
 side. A newly purchased borough of his sent up an ad- 
 dress flaming with patriotism, and it was presented by his 
 own hands. The merchant seldom kneeled to his Creator, 
 but on this occasion he humbled himself dutifully before 
 his prince, and left the presence with a legal right to the 
 appellation which his old companions had affixed to him 
 sarcastically. 
 
 The rapture of Lady Jarvis may be more easily imagined 
 than faithfully described, the Christian name of her hus- 
 band alone throwing any alloy into the enjoyment of her 
 elevation ; but by a license of speech she ordered, and ad- 
 dressed in her own practice, the softer and more familiar 
 appellation of Sir Timo. Two servants were discharged 
 the first week, because, unused to titles, they had addressed 
 her as mistress ; and her son, the captain, then at a water- 
 ing-place, was made acquainted by express with the joyful 
 intelligence. 
 
 All this time Sir Henry Egerton was but little seen 
 among his new relatives. He had his own engagements 
 
2t4 PRECA UTIOtf. 
 
 and haunts, and spent most of his time at a fashionable 
 gaming house in the West End. As, however, the xovvu 
 was deserted, Lady Jarvis, with her daughters, having con- 
 descended to pay a round of city visits, to show oft ner airs 
 and dignity to her old friends, persuaded Sir Timo ami 
 the hour for their visit to Bath had arrived, and they vvcrfe 
 soon comfortably settled in that city. 
 
 Lady Chatterton and her youngest daughter had arrived 
 at the seat of her son, and John Moseley, as happy as tin 
 certainty of love returned, and the approbation of \\\\ 
 friends, could make him, was in lodgings in the town. Sir 
 Edward notified his son of his approaching visit to Bath, 
 and John took proper accommodations for the family, 
 which he occupied for a few days by himself as locum tcncns. 
 
 Lord and Lady Herriefield had departed for the south 
 of France ; and Kate, removed from the scenes of her 
 earliest enjoyments and the bosom of her own family, and 
 under the protection of a man she neither loved nor re- 
 spected, began to feel the insufficiency of a name or of a 
 fortune to constitute felicity. Lord Herriefield was of a 
 suspicious and harsh temper, the first propensity being 
 greatly increased by his former associations, and the latter 
 not being removed by the humility of his eastern depend- 
 ents. But the situation of her child gave no uneasiness to 
 the managing mother, who thought her in the high-road 
 to happiness, and was gratified at the result of her labors. 
 Once or twice, indeed, her habits had overcome her cau- 
 tion so much as to endeavor to promote, a day or two 
 sooner than had been arranged, the wedding of Grace ; but 
 her imprudence was checked instantly by the recoiling of 
 Moseley from her insinuations in disgust ; and the absence 
 of the young man for twenty-four hours gave her timely 
 warning of the danger of such an interference with one of 
 such fastidious feelings. John punished himself as much 
 as the dowager on these occasions ; but the smiling face of 
 Grace, with her hand frankly .placed in his own at his re- 
 turn, never failed to do away the unpleasant sensations 
 created by her mother's care. 
 
 The Chatterton and Jarvis families met in the rooms, 
 soon after the arrival of the latter, when the lady of the 
 knight, followed by both her daughters, approached the 
 dowager with a most friendly salute of recognition. Lady 
 
 Chatterton, really forgetful of the persons of her B 
 
 acquaintance, and disliking the vulgarity of her air, drew 
 up into an appearance of great dignity, as she hoped the 
 
PRECA UTION*. 215 
 
 lady was well. The merchant's wife felt the.* consciousness 
 of rank too much to be repulsed in this manner, and be- 
 lieving that the dowager had merely forgotten her face, 
 she added, with a simpering smile, in imitation of what she 
 had seen better bred people practise with success : 
 
 "Lady Jarvis my lady your ladyship don't remember 
 me Lady Jarvis of the Deanery, B , Northampton- 
 shire, and my daughters, Lady Egertori and Miss Jarvis." 
 Lady Egerton bowed stiffly to the recognizing smile the 
 dowager now condescended to bestow ; but Sarah, remem- 
 bering a certain handsome lord in the family, was more 
 urbane, determining at the moment to make the promo- 
 tion of her mother and sister stepping-stones to greater 
 elevation for herself. 
 
 " I hope my lord is well," continued the city lady. " I 
 regret that Sir Timo, and Sir Harry, and Captain Jarvis, 
 are not here this morning to pay their respects to your 
 ladyship ; but as we shall see naturally a good deal of each 
 other, it must be deferred to a more fitting opportunity." 
 
 " Certainly, madam," replied the do\vager, as, passing 
 her compliments with those of Grace, she drew back from 
 so open a conversation with creatures of such doubtful 
 standing in the fashionable world. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 ON taking leave of Mrs. Fitzgerald, Emily and her aunt 
 settled a plan of correspondence ; the deserted situation 
 of this young woman having created great interest in the 
 breasts of her new friends. General M'Carthy had returned 
 to Spain without receding from his original proposal, and 
 his niece was left to mourn her early departure from one 
 of the most solemn duties of life. 
 
 Mr. Benfield, thwarted -in one of his most favorite 
 schemes of happiness for the residue of his life, obstinate- 
 ly refused to make one of the party at Bath ; and Ives and 
 Clara having returned to Bolton, the remainder of the 
 Moseleys arrived at the lodgings of John a very few days 
 after the interview of the preceding chapter, with hearts 
 ill qualified to enter into the gayeties of the place, though, 
 in obedience to the wishes of Lady Moseley, to see and 
 to be seen once more on that great theatre of fashionable 
 amusement. 
 
216 PRECAUTION, 
 
 The friends of the family who had known them in times 
 past were numerous, and were glad to renew their acquaint- 
 ance with those they had always esteemed ; so that they 
 found themselves immediately surrounded by a circle of 
 smiling faces and dashing equipages. 
 
 Sir William Harris, the proprietor of the deanery and a 
 former neighbor, with his showy daughter, were among the 
 first to visit them. Sir William was a man of handsome 
 estate and unexceptionable character, but entirely gov- 
 erned by the whims and desires of his only child. Caro- 
 line Harris wanted neither sense nor beauty, but, expecting 
 a fortune, she had placed her views too high. She at first 
 aimed at the peerage, and, while she felt herself entitled to 
 suit her tastes as well as her ambition, had failed of her 
 object by ill-concealed efforts to attain it. She had justly 
 acquired the reputation of the reverse of a coquette, or yet 
 of a prude ; still she had never yet received an offer, and 
 at the age of twenty-six had now begun to lower her 
 thoughts to the commonalty. Her fortune would have 
 easily obtained her a husband here, but she was deter- 
 mined to pick among the lower supporters of the aris- 
 tocracy of the nation. With the Moseleys she had been 
 early acquainted, though some years their senior ; a cir- 
 cumstance, however, to which she took care never to al- 
 lude unnecessarily. 
 
 The meeting between Grace and the Moseleys was ten- 
 der and sincere. John's countenance glowed with delight, 
 as he saw his future wife folded successively in the arms 
 of those he loved, and Grace's tears and blushes added 
 twofold charms to her native beauty. Jane relaxed from 
 her reserve to receive her future sister, and determined 
 with herself to appear in the world, in order to show Sir 
 Henry Egerton that she did not feel the blow he had in- 
 flicted as severely as the truth might have proved. 
 
 The dowager found some little occupation, for a few 
 days, in settling with Lady Moseley the preliminaries of 
 the wedding ; but the latter had suffered too much through 
 her youngest daughters to enter into these formalities 
 with her ancient spirit. All things were, however, happily 
 settled ; and Ives making a journey for the express pur- 
 pose, John and Grace were united privately at the altar of 
 one of the principal churches at Bath. Chatterton had 
 been summoned on the occasion ; and the same paper 
 which announced the nuptials, contained amongst the 
 fashionable arrivals, the names of the Duke of Derwent 
 
PRECAUTION. 21? 
 
 and his sister, the Marquis of Eltringham and sisters, 
 among whom was to be found Lady Laura Denbigh. 
 Lady Chatterton carelessly remarked, in presence of her 
 friends, the husband of the latter was summoned to the 
 death-bed of a relative, from whom he had great expecta- 
 tions. Emily's color did certainly change as she listened 
 to this news, but not allowing her thoughts to dwell on 
 the subject, she was soon enabled to recall her serenity of 
 appearance. 
 
 But Jane and Emily were delicately placed. The lover 
 of the former, and the wives of the lovers of both, were in 
 the way of daily, if not hourly rencounters ; and it re- 
 quired all the energies of the young women to appear with 
 composure before them. The elder was supported by 
 pride, the younger by principle. The first was restless, 
 haughty, distant, and repulsive. The last mild, humble, re- 
 served, but eminently attractive. The one was suspected 
 by all around her ; the other was unnoticed by any but her 
 nearest and dearest friends. 
 
 The first rencounter with these dreaded guests occurred 
 at the rooms one evening, where the elder ladies had in- 
 sisted on the bride's making her appearance. The Jar- 
 vises were there before them, and at their entrance caught 
 the eyes of the group. Lady Jarvis approached immedi- 
 ately, filled with exultation her husband with respect. 
 The latter was received with cordiality the former po- 
 litely, but with distance. The young ladies and Sir Henry 
 bowed distantly, and the gentlemen soon drew off into an- 
 other part of the room ; his absence alone kept Jane from 
 fainting. The handsome figure of Egerton standing by 
 the side of Mary Jarvis, as her acknowledged husband, was 
 near proving too much for her pride, notwithstanding all 
 her efforts ; and he looked so like the imaginary being 
 she had set up as the object of her worship, that her 
 heart was also in danger of rebellings. 
 
 " Positively, Sir Edward and my lady, both Sir Timo 
 and myself, and, I dare say, Sir Harry and Lady Egerton 
 too, are delighted to see you comfortably at Bath among 
 us. Mrs. Moseley, I wish you much happiness ; Lady 
 Chatterton too. I suppose your ladyship recollects me 
 now ; I am Lady Jarvis. Mr. Moseley, I regret, for your 
 sake, that my son, Captain Jarvis, is not here ; you were 
 so fond of each other, and both so loved your guns." 
 
 "Positively, my Lady Jarvis, "said Moseley, dryly, "my 
 feelings on the occasion are as strong as your own ; but I 
 
2i8 PRECA UTION: 
 
 presume the captain is much too good a shot for me b} 
 this time." 
 
 " Why, yes ; he improves greatly in most things he un- 
 dertakes," rejoined the smiling dame, " and I hope he will 
 soon learn, like you, to shoot with the Narrows of Cupid. 
 I hope the Honorable Mrs. Moseley is well ? " 
 
 Grace bowed mildly, as she answered to the interroga- 
 tory, and smiled at the thought of Jarvis put in competition 
 with her husband in this species of archery, when a voice 
 immediately behind where they sat caught the ears of the 
 whole party ; all it said was : 
 
 " Harriet, you forgot to show me Marian's letter." 
 
 "Yes, but I will to-morrow," was the reply. 
 
 It was the tone of Denbigh. Emily almost fell from her 
 seat as it first reached her, and the eyes of all but herself 
 were immediately turned in quest of the speaker. He had 
 approached within a few feet of them, supporting a lady 
 on each arm. A second look convinced the Moseleys that 
 they were mistaken. It was not Denbigh, but a young 
 man whose figure, face, and air resembled him strongly, 
 and whose voice possessed the same soft, melodious tones 
 which had distinguished that of Denbigh. This party seated 
 themselves within a very short distance of the Moseleys, 
 and they continued their conversation. 
 
 " You heard from the colonel to-day, too, I believe," 
 continued the gentleman, turning to the lady who sat next 
 to Emily. 
 
 " Yes, he is a very punctual correspondent ; I hear every 
 other day." 
 
 " How is his uncle, Laura ? " inquired her female com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Rather better ; but I will thank your grace to find the 
 marquis and Miss Howard." 
 
 " Bring them to us," rejoined the other. 
 
 " Yes," said the former lady, with a laugh, " and Eltring- 
 ham will thank you too, I dare say." 
 
 In an instant the duke returned, accompanied by a 
 gentleman of thirty and an elderly lady, who might have 
 been safely taken for fifty without offence to anybody but 
 herself. 
 
 During these speeches their auditors had listened with 
 almost breathless interest. Emily had stolen a glance 
 which satisfied her it was not Denbigh himself, and it 
 greatly relieved her ; but was startled at discovering that 
 she was actually seated by the side of his young and lovely 
 
PR EC A UTION> 219 
 
 wife. When an opportunity offered, she dwelt on the 
 amiable, frank countenance of her rival with melancholy 
 satisfaction ; at least, she thought, he may yet be happy, 
 and I hope penitent. 
 
 It was a mixture of love and gratitude which prompted 
 this wish, both sentiments not easily got rid of when once 
 ingrafted into our better feelings. John eyed the stran- 
 gers with a displeasure for which he could not account at 
 once, and saw, in the ancient lady, the bridesmaid Lord 
 Henry had so unwillingly admitted to that distinction. 
 
 Lady Jarvis was astounded with her vicinity to so much 
 nobility, and she drew back to her family to study its 
 movements to advantage ; while Lady Chatterton sighed 
 heavily, as she contemplated the fine figures of an unmar- 
 ried duke and marquis, and she without a single child to 
 dispose of. The remainder of the party continued to view 
 them with curiosity, and listened with interest to what 
 they said. 
 
 Two or three young ladies had now joined the strangers, 
 attended by a couple of gentlemen, and the conversation 
 became general. The ladies declined dancing entirely, 
 but appeared willing to throw away an hour in comments 
 on their neighbors. 
 
 "William," said one of the young ladies, " there is your 
 old messmate, Colonel Egerton." 
 
 "Yes, I observe him," replied her brother ; " I see him ; " 
 but, smiling significantly, he continued, " we are mess- 
 mates no longer." 
 
 " He is a sad character," said the marquis, with a shrug. 
 
 " William, I would advise you to be cautious of his 
 acquaintance." 
 
 "I thank you," replied Lord William, "but I believe I 
 understand him thoroughly." 
 
 Jane manifested strong emotion during these remarks^ 
 while Sir Edward and his wife averted their faces from a 
 simultaneous feeling of self-reproach. Their eyes met, 
 and mutual concessions were contained in the glance ; yet 
 their feelings were unnoticed by their companions, for 
 over the fulfilment of her often-repeated forewarnings of 
 neglect and duty to our children, Mrs. Wilson had mourned 
 in sincerity, but she had forgotten to triumph. 
 
 " When are we to see Pendennyss ? " inquired the mar- 
 quis ; " I hope he will be here with George I have a 
 mind to beat up his quarters in Wales this season what 
 say you, Derwent ? " 
 
220 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 " I intend it, if I can persuade Lady Harriet to quit the 
 gayeties of Bath so soon what sayjjw/, sister will you be 
 in readiness to attend me so early ? " 
 
 This question was asked in an arch tone, and drew the 
 eyes of her friends on the person to whom it was addressed. 
 
 " I am ready now, Frederick, if you wish it," answered 
 the sister hastily, and coloring excessively as she spoke. 
 
 " But where is Chatterton ? I thought he was here he 
 had a sister married here last week," inquired Lord Wil- 
 liam Stapleton, addressing no one in particular. 
 
 A slight movement in their neighbors attracted the at- 
 tention of the party. 
 
 " What a lovely young woman," whispered the duke to 
 Lady Laura, " your neighbor is ! " 
 
 The lady smiled her assent, and as Emily overheard it, 
 she rose with glowing cheeks, and proposed a walk round 
 the room. 
 
 Chatterton soon after entered. The young peer had 
 acknowledged to Emily, that, deprived of hope as he had 
 been by her firm refusal of his hand, his efforts had been 
 directed to the suppression of a passion which could never 
 be successful ; but his esteem, his respect, remained in full 
 force. He did not touch at all on the subject of Denbigh, 
 and she supposed that he thought his marriage was a step 
 that required justification. 
 
 The Moseleys had commenced their promenade round 
 the room as Chatterton came in. He paid his compli- 
 ments to them as soon as he entered, and walked with 
 their party. The noble visitors followed their example, 
 and the two parties met. Chatterton was delighted to see 
 them, the duke was particularly fond of him ; and, had 
 one been present of sufficient observation, the agitation of 
 his sister, Lady Harriet Denbigh, would have accounted 
 for the doubts of her brother as respects her willingness to 
 leave Bath. 
 
 A few words of explanation passed ; the duke and his 
 friends appeared to urge something on Chatterton, who 
 acted as their ambassador, and the consequence was an 
 introduction of the two parties to each other. This was 
 conducted with the ease of the present fashion it was 
 general, and occurred, as it were, incidentally, in the course 
 of the evening. 
 
 Both Lady Harriet and Lady Laura Denbigh were par- 
 ticularly attentive to Emily. They took their seats by 
 her, and manifested a preference for her conversation that 
 
PRECAUTION. 221 
 
 struck Mrs. Wilson as remarkable. Could it be that the 
 really attractive manners and beauty of her niece had 
 caught the fancy of these ladies, or was there a deeper 
 seated cause for the desire to draw Emily out, that both 
 of them evinced ? Mrs. Wilson had heard a rumor that 
 Chatterton was thought attentive to Lady Harriet, and the 
 other was the wife of Denbigh ; was it possible the quon- 
 dam suitors of her niece had related to their present favor- 
 ites the situation they had stood in as regarded Emily ? It 
 was odd, to say no more ; and the widow dwelt on the in- 
 nocent countenance of the bride with pity and admiration. 
 Emily herself was not a little abashed at the notice of her 
 new acquaintances, especially Lady Laura's ; but as their 
 admiration appeared sincere, as well as their desire to be 
 on terms of intimacy with the Moseleys, they parted, on 
 the whole, mutually pleased. 
 
 The conversation several times was embarrassing to the 
 baronet's family, and at moments distressingly so to their 
 daughters. 
 
 At the close of the evening they all formed one group 
 at a little distance from the rest of the company, and in a 
 situation to command a view of it. 
 
 "Who is that vulgar-looking woman," said Lady Sarah 
 Stapleton, " seated next, to Sir Henry Egerton, brother ? " 
 
 "No less a personage than my Lady Jarvis," replied the 
 marquis, gravely, "and the mother-in-law of Sir Harry, 
 and the wife to Sir Timo ; " this was said with a look of 
 drollery that showed the marquis was a bit of a quiz. 
 
 " Married ! " cried Lord William, " mercy on the woman 
 who is Egerton's wife. He is the greatest latitudinarian 
 among the ladies of any man in England nothing no, 
 nothing would tempt me to let such a man marry a sister 
 of mine ! " 
 
 Ah, thought Mrs. Wilson, how we may be deceived in 
 character, with the best intentions, after all ! In what are 
 the open vices of Egerton worse than the more hidden 
 ones of Denbigh? 
 
 These freely expressed opinions on the character of Sir 
 Henry were excessively awkward to some of the listeners, 
 to whom they were connected with unpleasant recollections 
 of duties neglected and affections thrown away. 
 
 Sir Edward Moseley was not disposed to judge his 
 fellow-creatures harshly ; and it was as much owing to his 
 philanthropy as to his indolence, that he had been so re- 
 miss in his attention to the associates of his daughters. 
 
222 PRECA UTION. 
 
 But the veil once removed, and the consequences brought 
 home to him through his child, no man was more alive to 
 the necessity of caution on this important particular ; and 
 Sir Edward formed many salutary resolutions for the gov- 
 ernment of his future conduct, in relation to those whom 
 an experience nearly fatal in its results had now greatly 
 qualified to take care of themselves. But to resume our 
 narrative Lady Laura had maintained with Emily a con- 
 versation, which was enlivened by occasional remarks from 
 the rest of the party, in the course of which the nerves as 
 well as the principles of Emily were put to a severe trial. 
 
 " My brother Henry," said Lady Laura, "who is a cap- 
 tain in the navy, once had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss 
 Moseley, and in some measure made me acquainted with 
 you before we met." 
 
 " I dined with Lord Henry at L , and was much in- 
 debted to his polite attentions in an excursion on the 
 water," replied Emily, simply. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure his attentions were exclusive," cried the 
 sister ; " indeed, he told us that nothing but want of time 
 prevented his being deeply in love he had even the 
 audacity to tell Denbigh it was fortunate for me he had 
 never seen you, or I should have been left to lead apes." 
 
 "And I suppose you believe him now," cried Lord Wil- 
 liam, laughing, as he bowed to Emily. 
 
 His sister laughed in her turn, but shook her head, in 
 the confidence of conjugal affection. 
 
 " It is all conjecture, for the colonel said he had never 
 enjoyed the pleasure of meeting Miss Moseley, so I will 
 not boast of what my powers might have done ; Miss 
 Moseley," continued Lady Laura, blushing slightly at her 
 inclination to talk of an absent husband, so lately her 
 lover, " I hope to have the pleasure of presenting Colonel 
 Denbigh to you soon." 
 
 " I think," said Emily, with a strong horror of deception, 
 and a mighty struggle to suppress her feelings, " Colonel 
 Denbigh was mistaken in saying that we had never met ; 
 he was of material service to me once, and I owe him a 
 debt of gratitude that I only wish I could properly repay." 
 
 Lady Laura listened in surprise ; but as Emily paused 
 she could not' delicately, as his wife, remind her further of 
 the obligation by asking what the service was, and hesi- 
 tating a moment, continued 
 
 " Henry quite made you the subject of conversation 
 among us Lord Chatterton too, who visited us for a day 
 
PR EC A U7VOM 22$ 
 
 was equally warm in his eulogiums. I really thought 
 they created a curiosity in the duke and Pendennyss to 
 behold their idol." 
 
 "A curiosity that would be ill rewarded in its indul- 
 gence," said Emily, abashed by the personality of the 
 discourse. 
 
 " So says the modesty of Miss Moseley," said the Duke 
 of Derwent, in the peculiar tone which distinguished the 
 softer keys of Denbigh's voice. 
 
 Emily's heart beat quick as she heard them, and she 
 was afterward vexed to remember with how much pleasure 
 she had listened to this opinion of the duke. Was it the 
 sentiment, or was it the voice ? She, however, gathered 
 strength to answer, with a dignity that repressed further 
 praises : 
 
 " Your grace is willing to divest me of what little I 
 possess." 
 
 "Pendennyss is a man of a thousand," continued Lady 
 Laura, with the privilege of a married woman. " I do 
 wish he would join us at Bath is there no hope, duke ?" 
 
 " I am afraid not," replied his grace: "he keeps him- 
 self immured in Wales with his sister, who is as much of a 
 hermit as he is himself." 
 
 " There was a story of an inamorata in private some- 
 where," cried the marquis ; " why, at one time it was even 
 said he was privately married to her." 
 
 " Scandal, my lord," said the duke, gravely : " Penden- 
 nyss is of unexceptionable morals, and the lady you mean 
 is the widow of Major Fitzgerald, whom you knew. Pen- 
 dennyss never sees her, though by accident he was once 
 of very great service to her." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson breathed freely again, as she heard this ex- 
 planation, and thought if the marquis knew all how differ- 
 ently would he judge Pendennyss, as well as others. 
 
 " Oh ! I have the highest opinion of Lord Pendennyss," 
 cried the marquis. 
 
 The Moseleys were not sorry that the usual hour of re- 
 tiring put an end to the conversation and their embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
PRECA UTION. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 DURING the succeeding fortnight, the intercourse between 
 the Moseleys and their new acquaintances increased daily. 
 It was rather awkward at first on the part of Emily, and 
 her beating pulse and changing color too often showed the 
 alarm of feelings not yet overcome, when any allusions 
 were made to the absent husband of one of the ladies. 
 Still, as her parents encouraged the acquaintance, and her 
 aunt thought the best way to get rid of the remaining 
 weakness with respect to Denbigh was not to shrink from 
 even an interview with the gentleman himself, Emily suc- 
 ceeded in conquering her reluctance ; and as the high 
 opinion entertained by Lady Laura of her husband was 
 expressed in a thousand artless ways, an interest was 
 created in her that promised in time to weaken if not 
 destroy the impression that had been made by Denbigh 
 himself. 
 
 On the other hand, Egerton carefully avoided all colli- 
 sion with the Moseleys. Once, indeed, he endeavored to 
 renew his acquaintance with John, but a haughty repulse 
 almost produced a quarrel. 
 
 What representations Egerton had thought proper to 
 make to his wife, we are unable to say, but she appeared 
 to resent something, as she never approached the dwelling 
 or persons of her quondam associates, although in her 
 heart she was dying to be on terms of intimacy with their 
 titled friends. Her incorrigible mother was restrained by 
 no such or any other consideration, and contrived to fasten 
 on the dowager and Lady Harriet a kind of bowing ac- 
 quaintance, which she made great use of at the rooms. 
 
 The duke sought out the society of Emily wherever he 
 could obtain it ; and Mrs. Wilson thought her niece ad- 
 mitted his approaches with less reluctance than that of 
 any other of the gentlemen around her. At first she was 
 surprised, but a closer observation betrayed to her the 
 latent cause. 
 
 Derwent resembled Denbigh greatly in person and voice, 
 although there were distinctions easily to be made on an 
 acquaintance. The duke had an air of command and 
 hauteur that was never to be seen in his cousin. But his 
 admiration of Emily he did not attempt to conceal ; and, 
 as he ever addressed her in the respectful language and 
 
PRECAUTION. 22$ 
 
 identical voice of Denbigh, the observant widow easily per- 
 ceived that it was the remains of her attachment to the 
 one that induced her niece to listen, with such evident 
 pleasure, to the conversation of the other. 
 
 The Duke of Derwent wanted many of the indispensable 
 requisites of a husband, in the eyes of Mrs. Wilson ; yet, 
 as she thought Emily out of all danger at the present of 
 any new attachment, she admitted the association under 
 no other restraint than the uniform propriety of all that 
 Emily said or did. 
 
 " Your niece will one day be a duchess, Mrs. Wilson," 
 whispered Lady Laura, as Derwent and Emily were run- 
 ning over a new poem one morning, in the lodgings of 
 Sir Edward ; the former reading a fine extract aloud so 
 strikingly in the air and voice of Denbigh, as to call all 
 the animation of the unconscious Emily into her expres- 
 sive face. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson sighed as she reflected on the strength of 
 those feelings which even principles and testimony had 
 not been able wholly to subdue, as she answered 
 
 " Not of Derwent, I believe. But how wonderfully the 
 duke resembles your husband at times," she added, entirely 
 thrown off her guard. 
 
 Lady Laura was evidently surprised. 
 
 " Yes, at times he does ; they are brothers' children, you 
 know: the voice in all that connection is remarkable. 
 Pendennyss, though a degree further off in blood, possesses 
 it ; and Lady Harriet, you perceive, has the same charac- 
 teristic. There has been some syren in the family, in days 
 past." 
 
 Sir Edward and Lady Moseley saw the attention of the 
 duke with the greatest pleasure. Though not slaves to 
 the ambition of wealth and rank, they were certainly no 
 objection in their eyes ; and a proper suitor Lady Moseley 
 thought the most probable means of driving the recollec- 
 tion of Denbigh from the mind of her daughter. The 
 latter consideration had great weight in inducing her to 
 cultivate an acquaintance so embarrassing on many ac- 
 counts. 
 
 The colonel, however, wrote to his wife the impossibility 
 of his quitting his uncle while he continued so unwell, and 
 it was settled that the bride should join him, under the es- 
 cort of Lord William. 
 
 The same tenderness distinguished Denbigh on this 
 occasion that had appeared so lovely when exercised to 
 
226 PRRCA UT1ON. 
 
 his dying father. Yet, thought Mrs. Wilson, how insuffi- 
 cient are good feelings to effect what can only be the re- 
 sult of good principles. 
 
 Caroline Harris was frequently of the parties of pleas- 
 ure, walks, rides, and dinners, which the Moseleys were 
 compelled to join in ; and as the Marquis of Eltringham 
 had given her one day some little encouragement, she de- 
 termined to make an expiring effort at the peerage before 
 she condescended to enter into an examination of the 
 qualities of Captain Jarvis, who, his mother had persuaded 
 her, was an Apollo, that had great hopes of being one day 
 a lord, as both the captain and herself had commenced 
 laying up a certain sum quarterly, for the purpose of buy- 
 ing a title hereafter an ingenious expedient of Jarvis's 
 to get into his hands a portion of the allowance of his 
 mother. 
 
 Eltringham was strongly addicted to the ridiculous, and 
 without committing himself in the least, drew the lady out 
 on divers occasions, for the amusememt of himself and 
 the duke who enjoyed, without practising, that species 
 of joke. 
 
 The collisions bet\veen ill-concealed art and as ill-con- 
 cealed irony had been practised with impunity by the Mar- 
 quis for a fortnight, and the lady's imagination began to 
 revel in the delights of a triumph, when a really respect- 
 able offer was made to Miss Harris by a neighbor of her 
 father's in the country one she would rejoice to have 
 received a few days before, but which, in consequence of 
 hopes created by the following occurrence, she haughtily 
 rejected. 
 
 It was at the lodgings of the baronet that Lady Laura 
 exclaimed one day, 
 
 " Marriage is a lottery, certainly, and neither Sir Henry 
 nor Lady Egerton appears to have drawn a prize." 
 
 Here Jane stole from the room. 
 
 "Never, sister," cried the marquis. " I will deny that. 
 Any man can select a prize from your sex, if he only knows 
 his own taste." 
 
 " Taste is a poor criterion, I am afraid," said Mrs. Wil- 
 son, gravely, " on which to found matrimonial felicity." 
 
 " To what would you refer the decision, my dear 
 madam ?" inquired the Lady Laura. 
 
 "Judgment." 
 
 Lady Laura shook her head doubtingly. 
 
 " You remind me so much of Lord Pendennyss ! Every- 
 
PRECA UTIOtf. 227 
 
 thing he wishes to bring under the subject of judgment 
 and principles." 
 
 "And is he wrong, Lady Laura?" asked Mrs. Wilson, 
 pleased to find such correct views existed in one of whom 
 she thought so highly. 
 
 " Not wrong, my dear madam, only impracticable. 
 What do you think, marquis, of choosing a wife in con- 
 formity to your principles, and without consulting your 
 tastes ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wilson shook her head with a laugh, and disclaimed 
 any such statement of the case : but the marquis, who dis- 
 liked one of John's didactic conversations very much, gay- 
 ly interrupted her by saying 
 
 "Oh ! taste is everything with me.' The woman of my 
 heart against the world, if she suits my fancy, and satisfies 
 my judgment." 
 
 "And what may this fancy of your lordship be ?" said 
 Mrs. Wilson, willing to gratify the trifling. "What kind 
 of a woman do you mean to choose ? How tall, for in- 
 stance ?" 
 
 "Why, madam," cried the marquis, rather unprepared 
 for such a catechism, and looking around him until the 
 outstretched neck and eager attention of Caroline Harris 
 caught his eye, when he added with an air of great sim- 
 plicity " about the height of Miss Harris." 
 
 "How old?" asked Mrs. Wilson, with a smile. 
 
 "Not too young, madam, certainly. I am thirty-two 
 my wife must be five or six and twenty. Am I old enough, 
 do you think, Derwent ? " he added in a whisper to the duke. 
 
 "Within ten years," was the reply. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson continued 
 
 " She must read and write, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Why, faith," said the marquis, " I am not fond of a 
 bookish sort of woman, and least of all a scholar." 
 
 "You had better take Miss Howard," whispered his 
 brother. "She is old enough never reads and is just 
 the height." 
 
 "No, no, Will," rejoined the brother; "rather too old 
 that. Now I admire a woman who has confidence in 
 herself. One that understands the proprieties of life, and 
 has, if possible, been at the head of an establishment be- 
 fore she is to -take charge of mine." 
 
 The delighted Caroline wriggled about in her chair, and, 
 unable to contain herself longer, inquired : 
 
 "Noble blood, of course, you would require my lord?" 
 
228 PRECAUTION-. 
 
 " Why, no ! I rather think the best wives are to be found 
 in a medium. I would wish to elevate my wife myself. A 
 baronet's daughter, for instance." 
 
 Here Lady Jarvis, who had entered during the dialogue 
 and caught a clew to the topic they were engaged in, drew 
 near, and ventured to ask if he thought a simple knight 
 too low. 
 
 The marquis, who did not expect such an attack, was a 
 little at a loss for an answer ; but recovering himself, an- 
 swered gravely, under the apprehension of another design 
 on his person, that " he did think that would be forgetting 
 his duty to his descendants." 
 
 Lady Jarvis sighed, and fell back in disappointment ; 
 while Miss Harris turning to the nobleman, in a soft voice 
 desired him to ring for her carriage. As he handed her 
 down she ventured to inquire if his lordship had ever met 
 with such a woman as he described. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Harris," he whispered, as he handed her into 
 the coach, " how can you ask me such a question ? You are 
 very cruel. Drive on, coachman." 
 
 "How, cruel, my lord?" said Miss Harris, eagerly. 
 " Stop, John. How, cruel, my lord ? " and she stretched 
 her neck out of the window as the marquis, kissing his 
 hand to her, ordered the man to proceed. 
 
 " Don't you hear your lady, sir?" 
 
 Lady Jarvis had followed them down, also with a view 
 to catch anything which might be said, having apologized 
 for her hasty visit ; and as the marquis handed her politely 
 into her carriage, she also begged " he would favor Sir 
 Timo and Sir Henry with a call ;" which being promised, 
 Eltringham returned to the room. 
 
 "When am I to salute a Marchioness of Eltringham?" 
 cried Lady Laura to her brother ; "one on the new stand- 
 ard set up by your lordship ?" 
 
 "Whenever Miss Harris can make up her mind to the 
 sacrifice," replied the brother very gravely. " Ah me ! how 
 very considerate some of your sex are, for the modesty of 
 ours." 
 
 " I wish you joy with all my heart, my lord marquis," 
 exclaimed John Moseley. " I was once favored with the 
 notice of that same lady for a week or two, but a viscount 
 saved me from capture." 
 
 " I really think, Moseley," said the duke, innocently, but 
 speaking with animation, " an intriguing daughter worse 
 than a managing mother." 
 
PR EC A UriON-. 229 
 
 John's gravity for a moment vanished, as he replied in 
 a lowered key. 
 
 "Oh, much worse." 
 
 Grace's heart was in her throat until, by stealing a glance 
 at her husband, she saw the cloud passing over his fine 
 brow ; and happening to catch her affectionate smile, his 
 face was at once lighted into a look of pleasantry. 
 
 " I would advise caution, my lord. Caroline Harris has 
 the advantage of experience in her trade, and was expert 
 from the first." 
 
 "John John," said Sir Edward with warmth, "Sir 
 William is my friend, and his daughter must be re- 
 spected." 
 
 " Then, baronet," cried the marquis, " she has one rec- 
 ommendation I was ignorant of, and as such I am silent ; 
 but ought not Sir William to teach his daughter to re- 
 spect herself ? I view these husband-hunting ladies as 
 pirates on the ocean of love, and lawful objects for any 
 roving cruiser like myself to fire at. At one time I was 
 simple enough to retire as they advanced, but you know, 
 madam," turning to Mrs. Wilson with a droll look, "flight 
 only encourages pursuit, so I now give battle in self-de- 
 fence." 
 
 "And I hope successfully, my lord," observed the lady. 
 " Miss Harris, brother, does appear to have grown desper- 
 ate in her attacks, which were formerly much more masked 
 than at present. I believe it is generally the case, when a 
 young woman throws aside the delicacy and feelings which 
 ought to be the characteristics of her sex, and which 
 teach her studiously to conceal her admiration, that she 
 either becomes in time cynical and disagreeable to all 
 around her from disappointment, or persevering in her 
 efforts, as it were, runs a muck for a husband. Now in 
 justice to the gentlemen I must say, baronet, there are 
 strong symptoms of the Malay about Caroline Harris." 
 
 "A muck, a muck," cried the marquis, as, in obedience 
 to the signal of his sister, he rose to withdraw. 
 
 Jane had retired to her own room in a mortification of 
 spirit she could ill conceal during this conversation, and 
 she felt a degree of humiliation which almost drove her to 
 the desperate resolution of hiding herself forever from the 
 world. The man she had so fondly enshrined in her heart 
 proving to be so notoriously unworthy as to be the sub- 
 ject of unreserved censure in general company, was a re- 
 proach to her delicacy, her observation, her judgment, that 
 
230 rRECA UT10N-. 
 
 was the more severe from being true ; and she wept in 
 bitterness over her fallen happiness. 
 
 Emily had noticed the movement of Jane, and waited 
 anxiously for the departure of the visitors to hasten to her 
 room. She knocked two or three times before her sister 
 replied to her request for admittance. 
 
 "Jane, my dear Jane," said Emily, soothingly, " will you 
 not admit me ? " 
 
 Jane could not resist any longer the affection of her sis- 
 ter, and the door was opened ; but as Emily endeavored 
 to take her hand she drew back coldly, and cried 
 
 " I wonder you, who are so happy, will leave the gay 
 scene below for the society of an humbled wretch like 
 me ; " and overcome with the violence of her emotion, she 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Happy ! " repeated Emily, in a tone of anguish, 
 " happy, did you say, Jane ? Oh, little do you know my 
 sufferings, or you would never speak so cruelly ! " 
 
 Jane, in her turn, surprised at the strength of Emily's 
 language, considered her weeping sister with commisera- 
 tion ; and then, her thoughts recurring to her own case, 
 she continued with energy 
 
 " Yes, Emily, happy ; for whatever may have been the 
 reason of Denbigh's conduct, he is respected ; and if you 
 do or did love him, he was worthy of it. But I," said Jane, 
 wildly, "threw away my affections on a wretch a mere im- 
 postor and I am miserable forever." 
 
 "No, dear Jane," rejoined Emily, having recovered her 
 self-possession, " not miserable nor forever. You have 
 many, very many sources of happiness yet within your 
 reach, even in this world. I I do think, even our strong- 
 est attachments may be overcome by energy and a sense 
 of duty. And oh ! how I wishI could see you make the 
 effort." 
 
 For a moment the voice of the youthful moralist had 
 failed her ; but anxiety in behalf of her sister overcame 
 her feelings, and she ended the sentence with earnestness. 
 
 " Emily," said Jane, with obstinacy, and yet in tears, 
 " you don't know what blighted affections are. To endure 
 the scorn of the world, and see the man you once thought 
 near being your husband married to another, who is show- 
 ing herself in triumph before you wherever you go ! " 
 
 " Hear me, Jane, before you reproach me further, and 
 then judge between us." Emily paused a moment to ac- 
 quire nerve to proceed, and then related to her astonished 
 
.PRECAUTION. 231 
 
 sister the little history of her own disappointments. She 
 did not affect to conceal her attachment for Denbigh. With 
 glowing cheeks she acknowledged that she found a neces- 
 sity for all her efforts to keep her rebellious feelings yet in 
 subjection ; and as she recounted generally his conduct to 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald, she concluded by saying, " But, Jane, I 
 can see enough to call forth my gratitude ; and although 
 with yourself, I feel at this moment as if my affections 
 were sealed for ever, I wish to make no hasty resolutions, 
 nor act in any manner as if I were unworthy of the lot 
 Providence has assigned me." 
 
 " Unworthy ? no ! you have no reasons for self-re- 
 proach. If Mr. Denbigh has had the art to conceal his 
 crimes from you, he did it to the rest of the world also, 
 and has married a woman of rank and character. But 
 how differently are we situated ! Emily I I have no 
 such consolation." 
 
 " You have the consolation, my sister, of knowing there 
 is an interest made for you where we all require it most, 
 and it is there I endeavor to seek my support," said Emily, 
 in a low and humble tone. " A review of our own errors 
 takes away the keenness of our perception of the wrongs 
 done us, and by placing us in charity with the rest of the 
 world, disposes us to enjoy calmly the blessings within our 
 reach. Besides, Jane, we have parents whose happiness 
 is locked up in that of their children, and we should we 
 must overcome the feelings which disqualify us for our 
 common duties, on their account." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Jane, " how can I move about in the world, 
 while I know the eyes of all are on me, in curiosity to dis- 
 cover how I bear my disappointments. But you, Emily, 
 are unsuspected. It is easy for you to affect a gayety you 
 do not feel." 
 
 " I neither affect nor feel any gayety," said her sister, 
 mildly. " But are there not the eyes of One on us, of in- 
 finitely more power to punish or reward than what may be 
 found in the opinions of the world ? Have we no duties ? 
 For what is our wealth, our knowledge, our time given 
 us, but to improve for our own and for the eternal welfare 
 of those around us ? Come then, my sister, we have both 
 been deceived let us endeavor not to be culpable." 
 
 " I wish, from my soul, we could leave Bath," cried 
 Jane. " The place, the people are hateful to me !" 
 
 " Jane," said Emily, " rather say you hate their vices, 
 and wish for their amendment ; but do not indiscriminately 
 
232 PRECA UTION. 
 
 condemn a whole community for the wrongs you have 
 sustained from one of its members." 
 
 Jane allowed herself to be consoled, though by no means 
 convinced, by this effort of her sister ; and they both found 
 a relief by thus unburdening their hearts to each other, 
 that in future brought them more nearly together, and was 
 of mutual assistance in supporting them in the promiscuous 
 circles in which they were obliged to mix. 
 
 With all her fortitude and principle, one of the last 
 things Emily would have desired was an interview with 
 Denbigh ; and she was happily relieved from the present 
 danger of it by the departure of Lady Laura and her 
 brother, to go to the residence of the colonel's sick 
 uncle. 
 
 Both Mrs. Wilson and Emily suspected that a dread of 
 meeting them had detained him from his intended journey 
 to Bath ; and neither was sorry to perceive what they con- 
 sidered as latent signs of grace a grace which Egerton 
 appeared entirely to be without. 
 
 " He may yet see his errors, and make a kind and affec- 
 tionate husband," thought Emily ; and then, as the image 
 of Denbigh rose in her imagination, surrounded with tlie 
 domestic virtues, she roused herself from the dangerous 
 reflection to the exercise of the duties in which she found 
 a refuge from unpardonable wishes. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 NOTHING material occurred for a fortnight after the de- 
 parture of Lady Laura, the Moseleys entering soberly into 
 the amusements of the place, and Derwent and Chatterton 
 becoming more pointed every day in their attentions the 
 one to Emily, and the other to Lady Harriet ; when the 
 dowager received a pressing entreaty from Catherine to 
 hasten to her at Lisbon, where her husband had taken up 
 his abode for a time, after much doubt and indecision as 
 to his place of residence. Lady Herriefield stated gener- 
 ally in her letter, that she was miserable, and that without 
 the support of her mother she could not exist under the 
 present grievances ; but what was the cause of those griev- 
 ances, or what grounds she had for her misery, she left 
 unexplained. 
 
 Lady Chatterton was not wanting in maternal regard f 
 
PRECA UTION. 233 
 
 and she promptly determined to proceed to Portugal in the 
 next packet. John felt inclined for a little excursion with 
 his bride ; and out of compassion to the baron, who was in 
 a dilemma between his duty and his love (for Lady Harriet 
 about that time was particularly attractive), he offered his 
 services. 
 
 Chatterton allowed himself to be persuaded by the goocU 
 natured John, that his mother could safely cross the ocean 
 under the protection of the latter. Accordingly, at the 
 end of the before mentioned fortnight, the dow r ager, John, 
 Grace, and Jane, commenced their journey to Falmouth. 
 
 Jane had offered to accompany Grace, as a companion 
 in her return (it being expected Lady Chatterton would 
 remain in the country with her daughter), and her parents 
 appreciating her motives, permitted the excursion, with a 
 hope it would draw her thoughts from past events. 
 
 Although Grace shed a few tears at parting with Emily 
 and her friends, it was impossible for Mrs. Moseley to be 
 long unhappy, with the face of John smiling by her side ; 
 and they pursued their route uninterruptedly. In due 
 season they reached the port of embarkation. 
 
 The following morning the packet got under weigh, and 
 a favorable breeze soon wafted them out of sight of their 
 native shores. The ladies were too much indisposed the 
 first day to appear on the deck ; but the weather becom- 
 ing calm and the sea smooth, Grace and Jane ventured 
 out of the confinement of their state-rooms, to respire the 
 fresh air above. 
 
 There were but few passengers, and those chiefly ladies 
 the wives of officers on foreign stations, on their way to 
 join their husbands. As these had been accustomed to 
 moving in the world, their disposition to accommodate 
 soon removed the awkwardness of a first meeting, and our 
 travellers began to be at home in their novel situation. 
 
 While Grace stood leaning on the arm of her husband, 
 and clinging to his support, both from affection and a 
 dread of the motion of the vessel, Jane ventured with one of 
 the ladies to attempt to walk round the deck of the ship. 
 Unaccustomed to such an uncertain foothold, the walkers 
 were prevented falling by the kind interposition of a 
 gentleman, who for the first time had shown himself 
 among them at that moment. The accident, and their 
 situation, led to a conversation which was renewed at dif- 
 ferent times during their passage, and in some measure 
 created an intimacy between our party and the stranger. 
 
234 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 He was addressed by the commander of the vessel as Mr 
 Harland ; and Lady Chatterton exercised her ingenuity in 
 the investigation of his history, by which she made the 
 following discovery : 
 
 The Rev. and Hon. Mr. Harland was the younger son 
 of an Irish earl, who had early embraced his sacred pro- 
 fession in that church, in which he held a valuable living 
 in the gift of his father's family. His father was yet alive, 
 and then at Lisbon with his mother and sister, in attend- 
 ance on his elder brother who had been sent there in a 
 deep decline a couple of months before. It had been the 
 wish of his parents to have taken all their children with 
 them ; but a sense of duty had kept the young clergyman 
 in the exercise of his holy office, until a request of his 
 dying brother, and the directions of his father, caused him 
 to hasten abroad to witness the decease of the one, and to 
 afford all the solace within his power to the others. 
 
 It may be easily imagined that the discovery of the rank 
 of their accidental acquaintance, with the almost cer- 
 tainty that existed of his being the heir of his father's 
 honors, in no degree impaired his consequence in the eyes 
 of the dowager ; and it is certain, his visible anxiety and 
 depressed spirits, his unaffected piety, and disinterested 
 hopes for his brother's recovery, no less elevated him in 
 the opinions of her companions. 
 
 There was at the moment, a kind of sympathy between 
 Harland and Jane, notwithstanding the melancholy which 
 gave rise to it proceeding from such very different causes; 
 and as the lady, although with diminished bloom, retained 
 all her personal charms, rather heightened than otherwise 
 by the softness of low spirits, the young clergyman some- 
 times relieved his apprehensions of his brother's death 
 by admitting the image of Jane among his more melan- 
 choly reflections. 
 
 The voyage was tedious, and some time before it w r as 
 ended the dowager had given Grace an intimation of the 
 probability there was of Jane's becoming, at some future 
 day, a countess. Grace sincerely hoped that whatever she 
 became she would be as happy as she thought all allied to 
 John deserved to be. 
 
 They entered the bay of Lisbon early in the morning ; 
 and as the ship had been expected for some days, a boat 
 came alongside with a note for Mr. Harland, before they 
 had anchored. It apprised him of the death of his brother. 
 The young man threw himself precipitately into it, and 
 

 PRECA UTION. 235 
 
 was soon employed in one of the loveliest offices of his vo- 
 cation, that of healing the wounds of the afflicted. 
 
 Lady Herriefield received her mother in a sort of sullen 
 satisfaction, and her companions with an awkwardness she 
 could ill conceal. It required no great observation in the 
 travellers to discover, that their arrival was entirely unex- 
 pected by the viscount, if it were not equally disagreeable; 
 indeed, one day's residence under his roof assured them all 
 that no great degree of domestic felicity was an inmate 
 of the dwelling. 
 
 From the moment Lord Herriefield became suspicious 
 that he had been the dupe of the management of Kate and 
 her mother, he viewed every act of his wife with a preju- 
 diced eye. It was easy, with his knowledge of human nat- 
 ure, to detect her selfishness and worldly-mindedness ; for 
 as these were faults she was unconscious of possessing, so 
 she was unguarded in her exposure of them. But her de- 
 signs, in a matrimonial point of view, having ended with 
 her marriage, had the viscount treated her with any of the 
 courtesies due her sex and station, she might, with her dis- 
 position, have been contented in the enjoyment of rank 
 and in the possession of wealth ; but their more private 
 hours were invariably rendered unpleasant, by the over- 
 flowings of her husband's resentment at having been de- 
 ceived in his judgment of the female sex. 
 
 There is no point upon which men are more tender than 
 their privilege of suiting themselves in a partner for life, 
 although many of both sexes are influenced in this impor- 
 tant selection more by the wishes and whims of others 
 than is usually suspected ; yetr, as all imagine what is the 
 result of contrivance and management is the election of 
 free will and taste, so long as they are ignorant, they are 
 contented. Lord Herriefield wanted this bliss of igno- 
 rance ; and, with contempt for his wife, was mingled anger 
 at his own want of foresight. 
 
 Very few people can tamely submit to self-reproach ; 
 and as the cause of this irritated state of mind was both 
 not only constantly present, but completely within his 
 power, the viscount seemed determined to give her as little 
 reason to exult in the success of her plans as possible. 
 Jealous he was, from temperament, from bad associations, 
 and a want of confidence in the principles of his wife, the 
 freedom of foreign manners having an additional tenden- 
 cy to excite this baneful passion to an unusual degree. 
 Abridged in her pleasures, reproached with motives she 
 
236 PRECA UTION'. 
 
 was incapable of harboring, and disappointed in all those 
 enjoyments her mother had ever led her to believe the in- 
 variable accompaniments of married life, where proper at- 
 tention had been paid to the necessary qualifications oi 
 riches and rank, Kate had written to the dowager with the 
 hope her presence might restrain, or her advice teach her, 
 successfully to oppose the unfeeling conduct of the vis- 
 count. 
 
 Lady Chatterton never having implanted any of her 
 favorite systems in her daughter, so much by precept as 
 by the force of example in her own person, as well as by 
 indirect eulogiums on certain people who were endowed 
 with those qualities and blessings she most admired, on the 
 present occasion Catherine did not burden herself in terms 
 to her mother ; but by a regular gradation of complaints, 
 aimed more at the world than at her husband, she soon let 
 the knowing dowager see their application, and in the end 
 completely removed the veil from her domestic grievances. 
 
 The example of John and Grace for a short time awed 
 the peer into dissembling his disgust for his spouse ; but 
 the ice once broken, their presence soon ceased to affect 
 either the frequency or the severity of his remarks, \vhen 
 under its influence. 
 
 From such exhibitions of matrimonial discord, Grace 
 shrank timidly into the retirement of her room, and Jane, 
 with dignity, would follow her example ; while John at 
 times became a listener with a spirit barely curbed within 
 the bounds of prudence, and at others he sought in the 
 company of hi-s wife and sister relief from the violence of 
 his feelings. 
 
 John never admired nor respected Catherine, for she 
 wanted those very qualities he chiefly loved in her sister ; 
 yet, as she w r as a woman, and one nearly connected with 
 him, he found it impossible to remain a quiet spectator of 
 the unmanly treatment she often received from her hus- 
 band ; he therefore made preparations for his return to 
 England by the first packet, abridging his intended resi- 
 dence in Lisbon more than a month. 
 
 Lady Chatterton endeavored all within her power to 
 heal the breach between Kate and her husband, but it 
 greatly exceeded her abilities. It was too late to implant 
 such principles in her daughter as, by a long course of 
 self-denial and submission, might have won the love of the 
 viscount, had the mother been acquainted with them her- 
 self ; so that, having induced her child to marry with 4 
 
PRECA UTIOtf. 337 
 
 view to obtaining precedence and a jointure, she once 
 more set to work to undo part of her. former labors, by 
 bringing about a decent separation between the husband 
 and wife, in such a manner as to secure to her child the 
 possession of her wealth and the esteem of the world. 
 The latter, though certainly a somewhat difficult under- 
 taking, was greatly lessened by the assistance of the 
 former. 
 
 John and his wife determined to seize the opportunity 
 to examine the environs of the ^ity. In one of these 
 daily rides they met their fellow traveller, Mr., now 
 Lord Harland. He was rejoiced to see them again, and 
 hearing of their intended departure, informed them of his 
 being about to return to England in the same vessel his 
 parents and sister contemplating ending the winter in 
 Portugal. 
 
 The intercourse between the two families was kept up 
 with a show of civilities between the noblemen, and much 
 real good-will on the part of the juniors of the circle, un- 
 til the day arrived for the sailing of the packet. 
 
 Lady Chatterton was left behind with Catherine, as yet 
 unable to circumvent her schemes with prudence ; it 
 being deemed by the world a worse offence to separate, 
 than to join together one's children in the bands of wed- 
 lock. 
 
 The confinement of a vessel is very propitious to those 
 intimacies which lead to attachments. The necessity of 
 being agreeable is a check upon the captious, and the de- 
 sire to lessen the dulness of the scene a stimulus to the 
 lively ; and though the noble divine and Jane could not 
 possibly be ranked in either class the effect was the same. 
 The nobleman was much enamored, and Jane unconscious- 
 ly gratified. It is true, love had never entered her thoughts 
 in its direct and unequivocal form ; but admiration is so 
 consoling to those laboring under self-condemnation, and 
 flattery of a certain kind so very soothing to all, it is not 
 .to be wondered that she listened with increasing pleasure 
 to the interesting conversation of Harland on all occasions, 
 and more particularly, as often happened, when exclusive- 
 ly addressed to herself. 
 
 Grace had of late reflected more seriously on the sub- 
 ject of her eternal welfare than she had been accustomed 
 to do in the house of her mother ; and the example of 
 Emily, with the precepts of Mrs. Wilson, had not been 
 thrown away upon her. It is a singular fact that more 
 
238 PRECA UTIO.Y. 
 
 women feel a disposition to religion soon after marriage, 
 than at any other period of life ; and whether it is that, 
 having attained the most important station this life affords 
 the sex, they are more willing to turn their thoughts to a 
 provision for the next, or whether it be owing to any other 
 cause, Mrs. Moseley was included in the number. She 
 became sensibly touched with her situation, and as Har- 
 land was both devout and able as well as anxious to in- 
 struct, one of the party, at least, had cause to rejoice in 
 the journey for the reniainder of her days. But precisely 
 as Grace increased in her own faith, so did her anxiety 
 after the welfare of her husband receive new excitement ; 
 and John, for the first time, became the cause of sorrow to 
 his affectionate companion. 
 
 The deep interest Harland took in the opening convic- 
 tion of Mrs. Moseley, did not so entirely engross his 
 thoughts as to prevent the too frequent contemplation of 
 the charms of her friend for his own peace of mind ; and 
 by the time the vessel reached Falmouth, he had deter- 
 mined to make a tender of his hand and title to the accept- 
 ance of Miss Moseley. Jane did not love Egerton ; on 
 the contrary, she despised him ; but the time had been 
 when all her romantic feelings, every thought of her bril- 
 liant imagination, had been filled with his image, and Jane 
 felt it a species of indelicacy to admit the impression of 
 another so soon, or even at all. These objections would, 
 in time, have been overcome, as her affections became 
 more and more enlisted on behalf of Harland, had she 
 admitted his addresses ; but there was an impediment that 
 Jane considered insurmountable to a union with any man. 
 
 She had once communicated her passion to its object. 
 There had been the confidence of approved love ; and she 
 had now no heart for Harland, but one that had avowedly 
 been a slave to another. To conceal this from him would 
 be unjust and not reconcilable to good faith ; to confess it, 
 humiliating, and without the pale of probability. It was 
 the misfortune of Jane to keep the world too constantly 
 before her, and to lose sight too much of her really de- 
 praved nature, to relish the idea of humbling herself so low 
 in the opinion of a fellow-creature. The refusal of Har- 
 land's offer was the consequence, although she had begun 
 to feel an esteem for him that would, no doubt, have given 
 rise to an attachment in time, far stronger and more deeply 
 seated than her passing fancy for Colonel Egerton had 
 been. 
 
PR EC A UT10K, 239 
 
 If the horror of imposing on the credulity of Harland 
 a wounded heart was creditable to Jane, and showed an 
 elevation of character that, under proper guidance, would 
 have placed her in the first ranks of her sex, the pride 
 which condemned her to a station nature did not design 
 her for, was irreconcilable with the humility a just view of 
 her condition could not fail to produce ; and the second 
 sad consequence of the indulgent weakness of her parents, 
 was confirming their child in passions directly at variance 
 with the first duties of a Christian. 
 
 We have so little right to value ourselves on anything, 
 that pride is a sentiment of very doubtful service, and one 
 certainly that is unable to effect any useful results, which 
 will not equally flow from good principles. 
 
 Harland was disappointed and grieved, but prudently 
 judging that occupation and absence would remove recol- 
 lections which could not be very deep, they parted at Fal- 
 mouth, and our travellers proceeded on their journey for 
 
 B , whither, during their absence, Sir Edward's family 
 
 had returned to spend a month, before they removed to 
 town for the residue of the winter. 
 
 The meeting of the two parties was warm and tender, 
 and as Jane had many things to recount, and John as many 
 to laugh at, their arrival threw a gayety around Moseley 
 Hall to which it had for months been a stranger. 
 
 One of the first acts of Grace, after her return, was to 
 enter strictly into the exercise of all those duties and ordi- 
 nances required by her church and the present state of her 
 mind, and from the hands of Dr. Ives she received her first 
 communion at the altar. 
 
 As the season had now become far advanced, and the 
 fashionable world had been some time assembled in the 
 metropolis, the baronet commenced his arrangements to 
 take possession of his town-house, after an interval of nine- 
 teen years. John proceeded to the capital first ; and the 
 necessary domestics procured, furniture supplied, and other 
 arrangements usual to the appearance of a wealthy family 
 in the world having been completed, he returned with the 
 information that all was ready for their triumphal en- 
 trance. 
 
 Sir Edward, feeling that a separation for so long a time 
 and at such an unusual distance, in the very advanced age 
 of Mr. Benfield, would be improper, paid him a visit with 
 the intention of persuading him to make one of his family 
 for the next four months. Emily was his companion, and 
 
240 PRECA UT1ON. 
 
 their solicitations were happily crowned with a success 
 they had not anticipated. Averse to being deprived of 
 Peter's society, the honest steward was included in the 
 party. 
 
 " Nephew," said Mr. Benfield, beginning to waver in his 
 objections to the undertaking, as the arguments pro and 
 con were produced, " there are instances of gentlemen not 
 in parliament going to town in the winter, I know. You 
 are one yourself ; and old Sir John Cowel, who never 
 could get in, although he ran for every city in the king- 
 dom, never missed his winter in Soho. Yes, yes the 
 thing is admissible but had I known your wishes before, 
 I would certainly have kept my borough if it were only 
 for the appearance of the thing besides," continued the 
 old man, shaking his head, "his Majesty's ministers require 
 the aid of some more experienced members in these critical 
 times'; for what should an old man like me do in West- 
 minster, unless it were to aid his country with his advice ?" 
 
 " Make his friends happy with his company, dear uncle," 
 said Emily, taking his hand between both her own, and 
 smiling affectionately on the old gentleman as she spoke. 
 
 " Ah ! Emmy dear ! " cried Mr. Benfield, looking on her 
 with melancholy pleasure, " you are not to be resisted 
 just such another as the sister of my old friend, Lord Gos- 
 ford ; she could always coax me out of anything. I re- 
 member now, I heard the earl tell her once he could not 
 afford to buy a pair of diamond ear-rings ; and she looked 
 only looked, did not speak ! Emmy ! that I bought 
 them with intent to present them to her myself." 
 
 "And did she take them, uncle ?" asked his niece, in a 
 little surprise. 
 
 " Oh, yes! When I told her if she did not I would 
 throw them into the river, as no one else should wear 
 what had been intended for her ; poor soul ! how delicate 
 and unwilling she was. I had to convince her they cost 
 three hundred pounds, before she would listen to it ; and 
 then she thought it such a pity to throw away a thing of 
 so much value. It would have been wicked, you know, 
 Emmy dear ; and she was much opposed to wickedness 
 and sin in any shape." 
 
 " She must have been a very unexceptionable character, 
 indeed," cried the baronet, with a smile, as he proceeded 
 to make the necessary orders for their journey. 
 
 But we must return to the party left at Bath. 
 
PR EC A UTION. 241 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE letters of Lady Laura informed her friends that she 
 and Colonel Denbigh had decided to remain with his 
 uncle until the recovery of the latter was complete, and 
 then to proceed to Denbigh Castle, to meet the duke and 
 his sister during the approaching holidays. 
 
 Emily was much relieved by this postponement of an 
 interview which she would gladly have avoided forever ; 
 and her aunt sincerely rejoiced that her niece was allowed 
 more time to eradicate impressions which, she saw with 
 pain, her charge had yet a struggle to overcome. 
 
 There were so many points to admire in the character 
 of Denbigh his friends spoke of him with such decided 
 partiality, Dr. Ives, in his frequent letters, alluded to him 
 with so much affection that Emily frequently detected 
 herself in weighing the testimony of his guilt, and indulg- 
 ing the expectation that circumstances had deceived them 
 all in their judgment of his conduct. Then his marriage 
 would cross her mind ; and with the conviction of the im- 
 propriety of admitting him to her thoughts at all, would 
 come the mass of circumstantial testimony which had ac- 
 cumulated against him. 
 
 Derwent served greatly to keep alive the recollections 
 of his person, however ; and as Lady Harriet seemed to 
 live only in the society of the Moseleys, not a day passed 
 without giving the duke some opportunity of indirectly 
 preferring his suit. 
 
 Emily not only appeared, but in fact was, unconscious 
 of his admiration, and entered into their amusements with 
 a satisfaction that was increased by the belief that the 
 unfortunate attachment her cousin Chatterton had once 
 professed for herself, was forgotten in the more certain 
 enjoyments of a successful love. 
 
 Lady Harriet was a woman of manners and character 
 very different from Emily Moseley, yet had she, in a great 
 measure, erased the impressions made by the beauty of his 
 kinswoman from the bosom of the baron. 
 
 Chatterton, under the depression of his first disappoint 
 ment, it will be remembered, had left B - in company 
 with Mr. Denbigh. The interest of the duke had been un- 
 accountably exerted to procure him the place he had so 
 long solicited in vain, and gratitude required his early 
 
242 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 acknowledgments for the favor. His manner, so very dif- 
 ferent from a successful applicant for a valuable office, had 
 struck both Derwent and his sister as singular. Before, 
 however, a week's intercourse had passed between them, 
 his own frankness had made them acquainted with the 
 cause ; and a double wish prevailed in the bosom of Lady 
 Harriet, to know the woman who could resist the beauty 
 of Chatterton, and to relieve him from the weight imposed 
 on his spirits by disappointed affection. 
 
 The manners of Lady Harriet Denbigh were not in the 
 least forward or masculine ; but they had the freedom of 
 high rank, mingled with a good deal of the ease of fashion- 
 able life. Mrs. Wilson noticed, moreover, in her conduct 
 to Chatterton, a something exceeding the interest of ordi- 
 nary communications in their situation, w r hich might pos- 
 sibly have been attributed more to feeling than to manner. 
 It is -certain one of the surest methods to drive Emily from 
 his thoughts, was to dwell on the perfections of some other 
 lady ; and Lady Harriet was so constantly before him in 
 his visit into Westmoreland, so soothing, so evidently 
 pleased with his presence, that the baron made rapid ad- 
 vances in attaining his object. 
 
 He had alluded, in his letter to Emily, to the obligation 
 he was under to the services of Denbigh in erasing his un- 
 fortunate partiality for her ; but what those services were 
 we are unable to say, unless they were the usual arguments 
 of the plainest good sense, enforced in the singularly in- 
 sinuating and kind manner which distinguished that gen- 
 tleman. In fact, Lord Chatterton was not formed by nature 
 to love long, deprived of hope, or to resist long the flattery 
 of a preference from such a woman as Harriet Denbigh. 
 
 On the other hand, Derwent was warm in his encomiums 
 on Emily to all but herself ; and Mrs. Wilson again thought 
 it prudent to examine into the state of her feelings, in or- 
 der to discover if there was any danger of his unremitted 
 efforts drawing Emily into a connection that neither her 
 religion nor prudence could wholly approve. 
 
 Derwent was a man of the w r orld a Christian only in 
 name ; and the cautious widow determined to withdraw in 
 season, should she find grounds for her apprehensions. 
 
 About ten days after the departure of the dowager and 
 her companions, Lady Harriet exclaimed, in' one of her 
 morning visits 
 
 "Lady Moseley ! I have now hopes of presenting to you 
 soon the most polished man in the United Kingdom ! " 
 
PR EC A UT10N. 243 
 
 ''As a husband! Lady Harriet?" inquired the other 
 with a smile. 
 
 u Oh, no ! only as a cousin, a second cousin ! madam ! " 
 replied Lady Harriet, blushing a little, and looking in the 
 opposite direction to the one in which Chatterton was 
 placed. 
 
 " But his name ? You forget our curiosity ! What is 
 his name ? " cried Mrs. Wilson, entering into the trifling 
 for the moment. 
 
 " Pendennyss, to be sure, my dear madam : whom else 
 can I mean ? " 
 
 " And you expect the earl at Bath ? " Mrs. Wilson eagerly 
 inquired. 
 
 " He has given us such hopes, and Derwent has written 
 him to-day, pressing the journey." 
 
 " You will be disappointed, I am afraid, sister," said the 
 duke. " Pendennyss has become so fond of Wales of late, 
 that it is difficult to get him out of it." 
 
 " But," said Mrs. Wilson, " he will take his seat in par- 
 liament during the winter, my lord ? " 
 
 " I hope he will, madam ; though Lord Eltringham 
 holds his proxies, in my absence, in all important ques- 
 tions before the house." 
 
 "Your grace will attend, I trust," said Sir Edward. 
 "The pleasure of your company is among my expected 
 enjoyments in the town." 
 
 "You are very good, Sir Edward," replied the duke, 
 looking at Emily. " It will somewhat depend on circum- 
 stances, I believe." 
 
 Lady Harriet smiled, and the speech seemed under- 
 stood by all but the lady most concerned in it. 
 
 " Lord Pendennyss is a universal favorite, and deserv- 
 edly so," cried the duke. " He has set an example to the 
 nobility, which few are equal to imitate. An only son, 
 with an immense estate, he has devoted himself to the pro- 
 fession of a soldier, and gained great reputation by it in 
 the world ; nor has he neglected any of his private duties 
 as a man"- 
 
 " Or a Christian, I hope," said Mrs. Wilson, delighted 
 with the praises of the earl. 
 
 "Nor of a Christian, I believe," continued the duke; 
 "he 'appears consistent, humble, and sincere three req- 
 uisites, I believe, for that character." 
 
 " Does not your grace know ? " said Emily, with a be- 
 nevolent smile. 
 
244 PRECAUTION. 
 
 Derwent colored slightly as he answered 
 
 " Not as well as I ought ; but " lowering his voice for 
 her alone, he added, " under proper instruction I think I 
 might learn." 
 
 " Then I would recommend that book to you, my lord," 
 rejoined Emily, with a blush, pointing to a pocket Biblet 
 which lay near her, though still ignorant of the allusion 
 he meant to convey. 
 
 " May I ask the honor of an audience of Miss Moseley," 
 said Derwerit, in the same low tone, " whenever her leisure 
 will admit of her granting the favor ?" 
 
 Emily was surprised ; but from the previous conversa- 
 tion and the current of her thoughts at the moment, sup- 
 posing his communication had some reference to the 
 subject before them, she rose from the chair, and unobtru- 
 sively, but certainly with an air of perfect innocence and 
 composure, she went into the adjoining room, the door of 
 which was open very near them. 
 
 Caroline Harris had abandoned all *deas of a coronet 
 with the departure of the Marquis of fcltringham and his 
 sisters for their own seat ; and as a final effort of her fad- 
 ing charms, had begun to calculate the capabilities of 
 Captain Jarvis, who had at this time honored Bath with 
 his company. 
 
 It is true, the lady would hav<y greatly preferred her 
 father's neighbor, but that was ah irretrievable step. He 
 had retired, disgusted with her haughty dismissal of his 
 hopes, and was a man who, Although he greatly ad- 
 mired her fortune, was not to be recalled by any beck or 
 smile which might grow out of caprice. 
 
 Lady Jarvis had, indeed, rather magnified the personal 
 qualifications of her son ; but the disposition they had 
 manifested to devote some of their surplus wealth to pur- 
 chasing a title, had great weight, for Miss Harris would 
 cheerfully, at any time, have sacrificed one-half her own 
 fortune to be called my lady. Jarvis would make but a 
 shabby-looking lord, 'tis true ; but then what a lord's wife 
 would she not make herself ! His father was a merchant, 
 to be sure, but then merchants were always immensely 
 rich, and a few thousand pounds, properly applied, might 
 make the merchant's son a baron. She therefore resolved 
 to inquire, the first opportunity, into the condition of the 
 sinking fund of his plebeianism, and had serious thoughts 
 of contributing her mite toward the advancement of the 
 
PRECA UTION. 245 
 
 desired object, did she find it within the bounds of proba- 
 ble success. 
 
 An occasion soon offered, by the invitation of the cap- 
 tain to accompany him in an excursion in the tilbury of 
 his brother-in-law. 
 
 In this ride they passed the equipages of Lady Harriet 
 and Mrs. Wilson, with their respective mistresses, taking 
 an airing. In passing the latter, Jarvis bowed (for he had 
 renewed his acquaintance at the rooms, without daring to 
 visit at the lodgings of Sir Edward), and Miss Harris saw 
 both parties as they dashed by them. 
 
 "You know the Moseleys, Caroline?" said Jarvis, with 
 the freedom her manners had established between them. 
 
 "Yes," replied the lady, drawing her head back from a 
 view of the carriages ; "what fine arms those of the duke's 
 are and the coronet, it is so noble so rich I am sure if 
 I were a man," laying great emphasis on the word " I 
 would be a lord." 
 
 "If you could, you mean," cried the captain. 
 
 " Could why money will buy a title, you know only 
 most people are fonder of their cash than of honor." 
 
 "That's right," said the unreflecting captain ; "money is 
 the thing after all. Now what do you suppose our last 
 mess-bill came to? " 
 
 "Oh, don't talk of eating and drinking," cried Miss Har- 
 ris, in affected aversion ; " it is beneath the consideration 
 of nobility." 
 
 " Then any one may be a lord for me," said Jarvis, dryly, 
 " if they are not to eat and drink ; why, what do they live 
 for, but such sort of things ! " 
 
 " A soldier lives to fight and gain honor and distinction " 
 for his wife Miss Harris would have added, had she 
 spoken all she thought. 
 
 "A poor way that of spending a man's time," said the 
 captain. " Now there is Captain Jones in our regiment ; 
 they say he loves fighting as much as eating : if he do, he 
 is a bloodthirsty fellow." 
 
 " You know how intimate I am with your dear mother," 
 continued the lady, bent on the principal object ; " she has 
 made me acquainted with her greatest wish." 
 
 " Her greatest wish !" cried the captain in astonishment ; 
 " why, what can that be ? a new coach and horses ?" 
 
 " No, I mean one much dearer to us I should say to 
 her, than any such trifles ; she has told me of the //#;/." 
 
 " Plan !" said Jarvis, still in wonder ; " what plan ?" 
 
246 PRECAUTION'. 
 
 " About the fund for the peerage, you know. Of course, 
 the thing is sacred with me, as, indeed, I am equally inter* 
 ested with you all in its success." 
 
 Jarvis eyed her with a knowing look, and as she con- 
 cluded, rolling his eyes in an expression of significance, he 
 said 
 
 " What, serve Sir William some such way, eh ? " 
 
 " I will assist a little, if it be necessary, Henry," said the 
 lady, tenderly, " although my mite cannot amount to a 
 great deal." 
 
 During this speech, the captain was wondering what she 
 could mean ; but, having had a suspicion, from something 
 that had fallen from his mother, that the lady was intended 
 for him as a wife, and that she might be as great a dupe as 
 Lady Jarvis herself, he was resolved to know the whole, 
 and to act accordingly. 
 
 " I think it might be made to do," he replied, evasively, 
 in order to discover the extent of his companion's infor- 
 mation. 
 
 " Do ! " cried Miss Harris, with fervor, " it cannot fail ! 
 How much do you suppose will be wanting to buy a bar- 
 ony, for instance ? " 
 
 " Hem ! " said Jarvis ; " you mean more than we have 
 already ? " 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " Why, about a thousand pounds, I think, will do it, with 
 what we have," said Jarvis, affecting to calculate. 
 
 "Is that all?" cried the delighted Caroline; and the 
 captain grew in an instant, in her estimation, three inches 
 higher ; quite noble in his air, and, in short, very tolerably 
 handsome. 
 
 From that moment, Miss Harris, in her own mind, had 
 fixed the fate of Captain Jarvis, and had determined to be 
 his wife, whenever she could persuade him to offer himself; 
 a thing she had no doubt of accomplishing with compar- 
 ative ease. Not so the captain. Like all weak men, there 
 was nothing of which he stood more in terror than of ridi- 
 cule. He had heard the manoeuvres of Miss Harris 
 laughed at by many of the young men in Bath, and was 
 by no means disposed to add himself to the food for mirth 
 of these wags ; and, indeed, had cultivated her acquaint- 
 ance with a kind of bravado to some of his bottle com- 
 panions, in order to show his ability to oppose all her arts, 
 when most exposed to them ; for it is one of the greatest 
 difficulties to the success of this description of ladies, that 
 
PRECAUTION-. 2tf 
 
 their characters soon become suspected, and do them in- 
 finitely more injury than all their skill in their vocation. 
 
 With these views in the respective champions the cam- 
 paign opened, and the lady, on her return, acquainted his 
 mother with the situation of the privy purse, that was to 
 promote her darling child to the enviable distinction of the 
 peerage. Lady Jarvis was for purchasing a baronetcy on 
 the spot, with what they had, under the impression that 
 when ready for another promotion they would only have 
 to pay the difference, as they did in the army when he re- 
 ceived his captaincy. As, however, the son was opposed 
 to any arrangement that might make the producing the 
 few hundred pounds he had obtained from his mother's 
 folly necessary, she was obliged to postpone the wished- 
 for day until their united efforts could compass the means 
 of effecting the main point. As an earnest, however, of 
 her spirit in the cause, she gave him a fifty pound note, 
 that morning obtained from her husband, and which the 
 captain lost at one throw of the dice to his brother-in-law 
 the same evening. 
 
 During the preceding events Egerton had either studi- 
 ously avoided all collision with the Moseleys, or his en- 
 gagements had confined him to such very different scenes 
 that they never met. 
 
 The baronet had felt his presence a reproach, and Lady 
 Moseley rejoiced that Egerton yet possessed sufficient 
 shame to keep him from insulting her with his company. 
 
 It was a month after the departure of Lady Chatterton 
 that Sir Edward returned to B , as related in the pre- 
 ceding chapter, and that the arrangements for the London 
 winter were commenced. 
 
 The day preceding their leaving Bath, the engagement 
 of Chatterton with Lady Harriet was made public among 
 their mutual friends, and an intimation was given that their 
 nuptials would be celebrated before the family of the duke 
 left his seat for the capital. 
 
 Something of the pleasure that she had for a long time 
 been a stranger to, was felt by Emily Moseley as the well 
 
 remembered tower of the village church of B struck 
 
 her sight on their return from their protracted excursion. 
 More than four months had elapsed since they had com- 
 menced their travels, and in that period what changes of 
 sentiments had she not witnessed in others ; of opinions of 
 mankind in general, and of one individual in particular, 
 had she not experienced in her own person. The benevo- 
 
248 PRECAUTION'. 
 
 /ent smiles, the respectful salutations they received, in 
 passing the little group of houses which, clustered round 
 the church, had obtained the name of " the village," con- 
 veyed a sensation of delight that can only be felt by the 
 deserving and virtuous ; and the smiling faces, in several 
 instances glistening with tears, which met them at the hall, 
 gave ample testimony to the worth of both the master and 
 his servants. 
 
 Francis and Clara were in waiting to receive them, and 
 a very few minutes elapsed before the rector and Mrs. 
 Ives, having heard they had passed, drove in also. In sa- 
 luting the different members of the family, Mrs. Wilson 
 noticed the startled look of the doctor, as the change in 
 Emily's appearance first met his eyes. Her bloom, if not 
 gone, was greatly diminished ; and it was only when under 
 the excitement of strong emotions that her face possessed 
 that radiance which had so eminently distinguished it be- 
 fore her late journey. 
 
 " Where did you last see my friend George ? " said the 
 doctor to Mrs. Wilson, in the course of the first afternoon, 
 as he took a seat by her side, apart from the rest of the 
 family. 
 
 "At L ," said Mrs. Wilson, gravely. 
 
 "L !" cried the doctor, in evident amazement. 
 
 "Was he not at Bath then during your stay there ?" 
 
 "No ; I understood he was in attendance on some sick 
 relative, which detained him from his friends," said Mrs. 
 Wilson, wondering why the doctor chose to introduce so 
 delicate a topic. Of his guilt in relation to Mrs. Fitzger- 
 ald he was doubtless ignorant, but surely not of his mar- 
 riage. 
 
 " It is now sometime since I heard from him," continued 
 the doctor, regarding Mrs. Wilson expressively, but to 
 which the lady only replied with a gentle inclination of 
 the body ; and the rector, after pausing a moment, con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " You will not think me impertinent if I am bold enough 
 to ask, has George ever expressed a wish to become con- 
 nected with your niece by other ties than those of friend- 
 ship?" 
 
 " He did, " answered the widow, after a little hesitation. 
 
 " He did, and "- 
 
 "Was refused," continued Mrs. Wilson, with a sL'ght 
 feeling for the dignity of her sex, which for a moment 
 caused her to lose sight of justice to Denbigh. 
 
PRECAUTION. 249 
 
 Dr. Ives was silent ; but manifested by his dejected 
 countenance the interest he had taken in this anticipated 
 connection, and as Mrs. Wilson had spoken with ill-con- 
 cealed reluctance on the subject at all, the rector did not 
 attempt a renewal of the disagreeable topic ; though she 
 saw, for sometime afterward, whenever the baronet or his 
 wife mentioned the name of Denbigh, that the eyes of the 
 rector were turned on them in intense interest. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 "STEVENSON has returned, and I certainly must hear 
 from Harriet," exclaimed the sister of Pendennyss, as she 
 stood at a window watching the return of a servant from 
 the neighboring post-office. 
 
 11 1 am afraid," rejoined the earl, who was seated by the 
 breakfast-table, waiting the leisure of the lady to give him 
 his cup of tea "you find Wales very dull, sister. I sin- 
 cerely hope both Derwent and Harriet will not forget their 
 promise of visiting us this month." 
 
 The lady slowly took her seat at the table, engrossed in 
 her own reflections, when the man entered with his budget 
 of news ; and having deposited sundry papers and letters 
 he respectfully withdrew. The earl glanced his eyes over 
 the directions of the epistles, and turning to his servants 
 said, "Answer the bell when called." Three or four liver- 
 ied footmen deposited their silver salvers and different im- 
 plements of servitude, and the peer and his sister were left 
 to themselves. 
 
 " Here is one from the duke to me, and one for you from 
 his sister," said the brother ; " J propose they be read aloud 
 for our mutual advantage." To this proposal the lady, 
 whose curiosity to hear the contents of Dervvent's letter 
 greatly exceeded her interest in that of his sister, cheer- 
 fully acquiesced, and her brother first broke the seal of his 
 own epistle, and read its contents as follow : 
 
 "Notwithstanding my promise of seeing you this month 
 in Caernarvonshire, I remain here yet, my dear Pendennyss, 
 unable to tear myself from the attractions I have found 
 in this city, although the pleasure of their contemplation 
 has been purchased at the expense of mortified feelings and 
 unrequited affections. It is a truth (though possibly dif- 
 
250 PRECA UTION. 
 
 ficult to be believed), that this mercenary age has produced 
 a female disengaged, young, and by no means very rich, 
 who has refused a jointure of six thousand a year, with 
 the privilege of walking at a coronation within a dozen of 
 royalty itself." 
 
 Here the accidental falling of a cup from the hands of 
 the fair listener caused some little interruption to the read- 
 ing of the brother ; but as the lady, with a good deal of 
 trepidation and many blushes, apologized hastily for the 
 confusion her awkwardness had made, the earl continued 
 to read. 
 
 " I could almost worship her independence : for I know 
 the wishes of both her parents were for my success. I 
 confess to you freely, that my vanity has been a good deal 
 hurt, as I really thought myself agreeable to her. She 
 certainly listened to my conversation, and admitted my 
 approaches, with more satisfaction than those of any other 
 of the men around her ; and when I ventured to hint to 
 her this circumstance, as some justification for my pre- 
 sumption, she frankly acknowledged the truth of my im- 
 pression, and without explaining the reasons for her con- 
 duct, deeply regretted the construction I had been led to 
 place upon the circumstance. Yes, my lord, I felt it 
 necessary to apologize to Emily Moseley for presuming to 
 aspire to the honor of possessing so much loveliness and 
 virtue. The accidental advantages of rank and wealth 
 lose all their importance, when opposed to her delicacy, 
 ingenuousness, and unaffected principles. 
 
 " I have heard it intimated lately, that George Denbigh 
 was in some way or other instrumental in saving her life 
 once ; and that to her gratitude, and to my resemblance 
 to the colonel, am I indebted to a consideration with Miss 
 Moseley, which, although it has been the means of buoy- 
 ing me up with false hopes, I can never regret, from the 
 pleasure her society has afforded me. I have remarked, 
 on my mentioning his name to her, that she showed un- 
 usual emotion ; and as Denbigh is already a husband, and 
 myself rejected, the field is now fairly open to you. You 
 will enter on your enterprise with great advantage, as you 
 have the same flattering resemblance, and, if anything, the 
 voice, which, I am told, is our greatest recommendation 
 with the ladies, in higher perfection than either George 
 or your humble servant." 
 
 Here the reader stopped of his own accord, and was so 
 intently absorbed in his meditations, that .the almost 
 
PRECAUTION: 251 
 
 breathless curiosity of his sister was obliged to find relief 
 by desiring him to proceed. Roused by the sound of her 
 voice, the earl changed color sensibly, and continued : 
 
 " But to be serious on a subject of great importance to 
 my future life (for I sometimes think her negative will 
 make Denbigh a duke), the lovely girl did not appear 
 happy at the time of our interview, nor do I think she en- 
 joys at anytime the spirits nature has evidently given her. 
 Harriet is nearly as great an admirer of Miss Moseley, and 
 takes her refusal to heart as much as myself ; she even 
 attempted to intercede with her in my behalf. But the 
 charming girl, though mild, grateful, and delicate, was 
 firm and unequivocal, and left no grounds for the remotest 
 expectation of success from perseverance on my part. 
 
 " As Harriet had received an intimation that both Miss 
 Moseley and her aunt entertained extremely rigid notions 
 on the score of religion, she took occasion to introduce 
 the subject in her conference with the former, and was 
 told in reply, 'that other considerations would have de- 
 termined her to decline the honor I intended her ; but 
 that, under any circumstances, a more intimate knowledge 
 of my principles would be necessary before she could en- 
 tertain a thought of accepting my hand, or, indeed, that 
 of any other man.' Think of that, Pendennyss ! The 
 principles of a duke ! now a dukedom and forty thousand 
 a year would furnish a character, with most people, for a 
 Nero. 
 
 " I trust the important object I have had in view here is 
 a sufficient excuse for my breach of promise to you ; and I 
 am serious when I wish you (unless the pretty Spaniard 
 has, as I sometimes suspect, made you a captive) to see, 
 and endeavor to bring me in some degree connected with, 
 the charming family of Sir Edward Moseley. 
 
 "The aunt, Mrs. Wilson, often speaks of you with the 
 greatest interest, and, from some cause or other, is strong- 
 ly enlisted in your favor, and Miss Moseley hears your 
 name mentioned with evident pleasure. Your religion or 
 principles cannot be doubted. You can offer larger settle- 
 ments, as honorable if not as elevated a title, a far more 
 illustrious name, purchased by your own services and per- 
 sonal merit greatly exceeding the pretensions of your 
 assured friend and relative, DERWENT." 
 
 Both brother and sister were occupied with their own 
 reflections for several minutes after the letter was ended 
 
252 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 and the silence was broken first, by the latter saying with 
 a low tone to her brother 
 
 " You must endeavor to become acquainted with Mrs. 
 Wilson ; she is, I know, very anxious to see you, and your 
 friendship for the general requires it of you." 
 
 " I owe General Wilson much," replied the Brother, in a 
 melancholy voice ; "and when we go to Annerdale House, 
 I wish you to make the acquaintance of the ladies of 
 the Moseley family, should they be in town this winter ; 
 but you have yet the letter of Harriet to read." 
 
 After first hastily running over its contents, the lady 
 commenced the fulfilment of her part of the engagement. 
 
 " Frederick has been so much engrossed of late with his 
 own aifairs, that he has forgotten there is such a creature 
 in existence as his sister, or, indeed, any one else but a 
 Miss Emily Moseley, and consequently I have been un- 
 able to fulfil my promise of making you a visit, for want of 
 a proper escort, and and perhaps some other considera- 
 tions, not worth mentioning in a letter I know you wil 1 
 read to the earl. 
 
 " Yes, my dear cousin, Frederick Denbigh has suppli- 
 cated the daughter of a country baronet to become a duch- 
 ess ; and, hear it, ye marriage-seekingnymphsand marriage- 
 making dames ! has supplicated in vain ! 
 
 " I confess to you, when the thing was first in agitation, 
 my aristocratic blood roused itself a little at the anticipated 
 connection : but finding on examination that Sir Edward 
 was of no doubtful lineage, and that the blood of the Chat- 
 tertons runs in his veins, and finding the young lady every- 
 thing I could wish in a sister, my scruples soon disappeared, 
 with the folly that engendered them. 
 
 " There was no necessity for any alarm, for the lady very 
 decidedly refused the honor offered her by Derwent, and 
 what makes the matter worse, refused the solicitations of 
 his sister also. 
 
 " I have fifty times been surprised by my own condescen- 
 sion, and to this moment am at a loss to know whether it 
 was to the lady's worth, my brother's happiness, or the Chat- 
 terton blood, that I finally yielded. Heigho ! this Chatter- 
 ton is certainly much too handsome for a man ; but I forget 
 you have never seen him." 
 
 (Here an arch smile stole over the features of the listener, 
 as his sister continued) u To return to my narration, I 
 had half a mind to send for a Miss Harris there is here, ro 
 
PR EC A UTION; 253 
 
 learn the most approved fashion of a lady preferring a suit, 
 but as fame said she was just now practising on a certain 
 hero ycleped Captain Jarvis, heir to Sir Timo of that name, 
 it struck me her system might be rather too abrupt, so I 
 was fain to adopt the best plan that of trusting to nature 
 and my own feelings for words. 
 
 " Nobility is certainly a very pretty thing (for those who 
 
 have it), but I would defy the old Margravine of to 
 
 keep up the semblance of superiority with Emily Moseley. 
 She is so very natural, so very beautiful, and withal at times 
 a little arch, that one is afraid to set up any other distinc- 
 tions than such as can be fairly supported. 
 
 " I commenced with hoping her determination to reject 
 the hand of Frederick was hot an unalterable one. (Yes, 
 I called him Frederick, what I never did out of my own 
 family before in my life.) There was a considerable tremor 
 in the voice of Miss Moseley, as she replied, ' I now per- 
 ceive, when too late, that my indiscretion has given reason 
 to my friends to think that I have entertained intentions 
 toward his grace, of which I entreat you to believe me, 
 Lady Harriet, I am innocent. Indeed indeed, as anything 
 more than an agreeable acquaintance I have never al- 
 lowed myself to think of your brother ; ' and from my soul 
 I believe her. We continued our conversation for half an 
 hour longer, and such was the ingenuousness, delicacy, 
 and high religious feeling displayed by the charming girl, 
 that if I entered the room with a spark of regret that I 
 was compelled to solicit another to favor my brother's love, 
 I left it with a feeling that my efforts had been unsuccess- 
 ful ! Yes ! thou peerless sister of the more peerless Pen- 
 dennyss ! I once thought of your ladyship as a wife for 
 Derwent " 
 
 A glass of water was necessary to enable the reader to 
 clear her voice, which grew husky from speaking so 
 long. 
 
 " But I now openly avow, neither your birth, your hun- 
 dred thousand pounds, nor your merit, would put you on 
 a footing, in my estimation, with my Emily. You may 
 form some idea of her power to captivate, and of her in- 
 difference to her conquests, when I mention that she once 
 refused but I forget, you don't know him, and therefore 
 cannot be a judge. The thing is finally decided, and we 
 shortly go into Westmoreland, and next week, the Mose- 
 leys return to Northamptonshire. I don't know when I 
 shall be able to visit you, and think I may now safely invite 
 
254 PRECAUTION. 
 
 you to Denbigh Castle, although a month ago I might 
 have hesitated. Love to the earl, and kind assurance to 
 yourself of unalterable regard. 
 
 " HARRIET DENBIGH." 
 
 " P. S. I believe I forgot to mention that Mrs. Moseley, a 
 sister of Lord Chatterton, has gone to Portugal, and that 
 the peer himself is to go into the country with us ; there 
 is, I suppose, a fellow-feeling between them just now, 
 though I do not think Chatterton looks so very miserable 
 as he might. Adieu." 
 
 On ending this second epistle the same silence which had 
 succeeded the reading of the first prevailed, until the lady, 
 with an arch- expression, interrupted it by saying, 
 
 " Harriet will, I think, soon grace the peerage." 
 
 "And happily, I trust," replied the brother. 
 
 " Do you know Lord Chatterton ?" 
 
 " I do ; he is very amiable, and admirably calculated to 
 contrast with the lively gayety of Harriet Denbigh." 
 
 "You believe in loving our opposites, I see," rejoined 
 the lady ; and then affectionately stretching out her hand 
 to him, she added, "but, Pendennyss, you must give me 
 for a sister one as nearly like yourself as possible." 
 
 " That might please your affections," answered the earl 
 with a smile, " but how would it comport with my tastes ? 
 Will you suffer me to describe the kind of man you are to 
 select for your future lord, unless, indeed, you have de- 
 cided the point already ?" 
 
 The lady colored violently, and appearing anxious to 
 change the subject, she tumbled over two or three un- 
 opened letters, as she cried eagerly 
 
 " Here is one from the Donna Julia." The earl instantly 
 broke the seal and read aloud ; no secrets existing between 
 them in relation to their mutual friend. 
 
 c MY LORD, 
 
 " I hasten to write to you what I know it will give you 
 pleasure to hear, concerning my future prospects in life. 
 My uncle, General M'Carthy, has written me the cheerful 
 tidings, that my father has consented to receive his only 
 child without any other sacrifice than a condition of at- 
 tending the service of the Catholic Church without any 
 professions on my side, or even an understanding that I am 
 conforming to its peculiar tenets. This may be, in some 
 
PRECA UTION: 255 
 
 measure, irksome at times, and possibly distressing ; but 
 the worship of God, with a proper humiliation of spirit, I 
 have learnt to consider as a privilege to us here, and I owe 
 a duty to my earthly father of penitence and care in his 
 later years that will justify the measure in the eyes of my 
 heavenly One. I have, therefore, acquainted my uncle in 
 reply, that I am willing to attend the conde's summons at 
 any moment he will choose to make them ; and I thought 
 it a debt due your care and friendship to apprise your lord- 
 ship of my approaching departure from this country ; in- 
 deed, I have great reason for believing that your kind and 
 unremitted efforts to attain this object have already pre- 
 pared you to expect this result. 
 
 " I feel it will be impossible to quit England without 
 seeing you and your sister, to thank you for the many, 
 very many favors, of both a temporal and eternal nature, 
 you have been the agents of conferring on me. The cruel 
 suggestions which I dreaded, and which it appears had 
 reached the ears of my friends in Spain, have prevented 
 my troubling your lordship of late unnecessarily with my 
 concerns. The consideration of a friend to your charac- 
 ter (Mrs. Wilson) has removed the necessity of applying 
 for your advice ; she and her charming niece, Miss Emily 
 Moseley, have been, next to yourselves, the greatest solace 
 I have had in my exile, and united you will be remembered 
 in my prayers. I will merely mention here, deferring the 
 explanation until I see you in London, that I have been 
 visited by the wretch from w T hom you delivered me in 
 Portugal, and that the means of ascertaining his name 
 have fallen into my hands. You will be the best judge of 
 the proper steps to be taken ; but I wish, by all means, 
 something may be done to prevent his attempting to see 
 me in Spain. Should it be discovered to my relations 
 there that he has any such intentions it would certainly 
 terminate in his death, and possibly in my disgrace. Wish- 
 ing you and your kind sister all possible happiness, I 
 remain, 
 
 " Your lordship's obliged friend, 
 
 " JULIA FITZGERALD." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the sister as she concluded the letter, " we 
 must certainly see her before she goes. What a wretch 
 that persecutor of hers must be ! how persevering in his 
 villany ! " 
 
 " He does exceed my ideas of effrontery," said the earl, 
 
256 PR EC A UTIOX. 
 
 in great warmth " but he may offend too far ; the laws 
 shall interpose their power to defeat his schemes, should 
 he ever repeat them." 
 
 "He attempted to take your life, brother," said the lady, 
 shuddering, " if I remember the tale aright." 
 
 " Why, I have endeavored to free him from that impu- 
 tation," rejoined the brother, musing: "he certainly fired 
 a pistol, but the latter hit my horse at such a distance from 
 myself, that I believe his object was to disable me and not 
 murder. His escape has astonished me ; he must have 
 fled by himself into the woods, as Harmer was but a short 
 distance behind me, admirably mounted, and the escort 
 was up and in full pursuit within ten minutes. After all 
 it may be for the best he was not taken ; for I am persuaded 
 the dragoons \vould have sabred him on the spot, and he 
 may have parents of respectability, or a wife to kill by the 
 knowledge of his misconduct." 
 
 "This Emily Moseley must be a faultless being," cried 
 the sister, as she ran over the contents of Julia's letter. 
 "Three different letters, and each containing her praises !" 
 
 The earl made no reply, but opening the duke's letter 
 again, he appeared to be studying its contents. His color 
 slightly changed as he dwelt on its passages, and turning 
 to his sister he inquired if she had a mind to try the air 
 of Westmoreland for a couple of weeks or a month. 
 
 " As you say, my lord," replied the lady, with cheeks of 
 scarlet. 
 
 " Then I say we will go. I wish much to see Derwent, 
 and I think there will be a wedding during our visit." 
 
 He rang the bell, and the almost untasted breakfast was 
 removed in a few minutes. A servant announced that his 
 horse was in readiness. The earl wished his sister a friendly 
 good morning, and proceeded to the door, where was 
 standing one of the noble black horses before mentioned, 
 held by a groom, and the military-looking attendant ready 
 mounted on another. 
 
 Throwing himself into the saddle, the young peer rode 
 gracefully from the door, followed by his attendant horse- 
 man. During this ride, the master suffered his steed to 
 take whatever course most pleased himself, and his follower 
 looked up in surprise more than once, to see the careless 
 manner in which the Earl of Pendennyss, confessedly one 
 of the best horsemen in England, managed the noble ani- 
 mal. Having, however, got without the gates of his own 
 park, and into the vicinity of numberless cottage? and 
 
PRECA UTION: 257 
 
 farm-houses, the master recovered his recollection, and the 
 man ceased to wonder. 
 
 For three hours the equestrians pursued their course 
 through the beautiful vale which opened gracefully oppo- 
 site one of the fronts of the castle ; and if faces of smiling 
 welcome, inquiries after his own and his sister's welfare, 
 which evidently sprang from the heart, or the most familiar 
 but respectful representations of their own prosperity or 
 misfortunes, gave any testimony of the feelings entertained 
 by the tenantry of this noble estate for their landlord, the 
 situation of the young nobleman might be justly considered 
 envied. 
 
 As the hour for dinner approached, they turned the 
 heads of their horses toward home ; and on entering the 
 park, removed from the scene of industry and activity 
 without, the earl relapsed into his fit of musing. A short 
 distance from the house he suddenly called, " Harmer." 
 The man drove his spurs into the loins of his horse, and in 
 an instant was by the side of his master, which he signified 
 by raising his hand to his cap with the palm opening out- 
 ward. 
 
 " You must prepare to go to Spain when required, in 
 attendance on Mrs. Fitzgerald." 
 
 The man received his order with the indifference of one 
 used to adventures and movements, and having laconically 
 signified his assent, he drew his horse back again into his 
 station in the rear. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE day succeeding the arrival of the Moseleys at the 
 seat of their ancestors, Mrs. Wilson observed Emily silently 
 putting on her pelisse, and walking out unattended by 
 either of the domestics or any of the family. There was a 
 peculiar melancholy in her air and manner, which inclined 
 the cautious aunt to suspect that her charge was bent on 
 the indulgence of some ill-judged weakness ; more par- 
 ticularly as the direction she took led to the arbor, a 
 theatre in which Denbigh had been so conspicuous an 
 actor. Hastily throwing a cloak over her own shoulders, 
 Mrs. Wilson followed Emily with the double purpose of 
 ascertaining her views, and, if necessary, of interposing her 
 own authority against the repetition of similar excursions: 
 
 17 
 
258 PR EC A UT1ON-. 
 
 As Emily approached the arbor, whither in truth she 
 had directed her steps, its faded vegetation and chilling 
 aspect, so different from its verdure and luxuriance when 
 she last saw it, came over her heart as a symbol of her own 
 blighted prospects, and deadened affections. The recol- 
 lection of Denbigh's conduct on that spot, of his general 
 benevolence and assuidity to please, being forcibly recalled 
 to her mind at the instant, forgetful of her object in visit- 
 ing the arbor, Emily yielded to her sensibilities, and sank 
 on the seat weeping as if her heart would break. 
 
 She had not time to dry her eyes and to collect her scat- 
 tered thoughts, before Mrs. Wilson entered the arbor. 
 Eyeing her niece for a moment with a sternness unusual 
 for the one to adopt or the other to receive, she said 
 
 " It is a solemn obligation we owe our religion and our- 
 selves, to endeavor to suppress such passions as are in- 
 compatible with our duties ; and there is no weakness 
 greater than blindly adhering to the wrong, when we are 
 convinced of our error. It is as fatal to good morals as it 
 is unjust to ourselves to persevere, from selfish motives, in 
 believing those innocent whom evidence has convicted as 
 guilty. Many a weak woman has sealed her .own misery 
 by such wilful obstinacy, aided by the unpardonable vanity 
 of believing herself able to control a man that the laws of 
 God could not restrain." 
 
 "Oh, dear madam, speak not so unkindly to me," sobbed 
 the weeping girl ; " I I am guilty of no such weakness, I 
 assure you ; " and looking up with an air of profound resig- 
 nation and piety, she continued : " Here on this spot where 
 he saved my life, I was about to offer up my prayers for 
 his conviction of the error of his ways, and for the pardon 
 of his too too heavy transgressions." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson, softened almost to tears herself, viewed hei 
 for a moment with a mixture of delight, and continued itf 
 a milder tone : 
 
 " I believe you, my dear. I am certain, although you 
 may have loved Denbigh much, that you love your Maker 
 and his ordinances more ; and I have no apprehensions 
 that, were he a disengaged man, and you alone in the 
 world unsupported by anything but your sense of duty 
 you would ever so far forget yourself as to become his 
 wife. But does not your religion, does not your own use- 
 fulness in society, require you wholly to free your heart 
 from the power of a man who has so unworthily usurped 
 a, dominion over it ? " 
 
PRECA UT1ON. 259 
 
 To this Emily replied, in a hardly audible voice, " Cer- 
 tainly and I pray constantly for it." 
 
 "It is well, my love," said the aunt, soothingly; "you 
 carmot fail with such means, and your own exertions, 
 finally to prevail over your own worst enemies, your pas- 
 sions. The task our sex has to sustain is, at the best, an 
 arduous one ; but so much the greater is our credit if we 
 do it well." 
 
 " Oh ! how is an unguided girl ever to judge aright, if, 
 " cried Emily, clasping her hands and speaking with 
 great energy, and she would have said, "one like Denbigh 
 in appearance, be so vile ! " Shame, however, kept her 
 silent. 
 
 " Few men can support such a veil of hypocrisy as that 
 with which I sometimes think Denbigh must deceive even 
 himself. His case is an extraordinary exception to a very 
 sacred rule 'that the tree is known by its fruits,' " replied 
 her aunt. " There is no safer way of judging of character 
 that one's opportunities will not admit of more closely in- 
 vestigating, than by examining into and duly appreciating 
 early impressions. The man or woman who has constantly 
 seen the practice of piety before them, from infancy to the 
 noon of life, will seldom so far abandon the recollection of 
 virtue as to be guilty of great enormities. Even divine 
 truth has promised that His blessings or His curses shall 
 extend to many generations. It is true, that with our most 
 guarded prudence we may be deceived." Mrs. Wilson 
 paused and sighed heavily, as her own case, connected 
 with the loves of Denbigh and her niece, occurred strongly 
 to her mind. 
 
 " Yet," she continued, "we may lessen the danger much 
 by guarding against it ; and it seems to me no more than 
 what self-preservation requires in a young woman. But 
 for a religious parent to neglect it, is a wilful abandonment 
 of a most solemn duty." 
 
 As Mrs. Wilson concluded, her niece, who had recovered 
 the command of her feelings, pressed her hand in silence 
 to her lips, and showed a disposition to retire from a spot 
 which she found recalled too many recollections of a man 
 whose image it was her imperious duty to banish, on every 
 consideration of propriety and religion. 
 
 Their walk into the house was silent, and their thoughts 
 were drawn from the unpleasant topic by finding a letter 
 from Julia, announcing her intended departure from this 
 country, and her wish to take leave of them in London be- 
 
260 PR EC A UTION: 
 
 fore she sailed. As she had mentioned the probable day 
 for that event, both the ladies were delighted to find it was 
 posterior to the time fixed by Sir Edward for their own 
 visit to the capital. 
 
 Had Jane, instead of Emily, been the one that suffered 
 through the agency of Mrs. Fitzgerald, however innocently 
 on the part of the lady, her violent and uncontrolled pas- 
 sions would have either blindly united the innocent with 
 the guilty in her resentments ; or, if a sense of justice had 
 vindicated the lady in her judgment, yet her pride and 
 ill-guided delicacy would have felt her name a reproach, 
 that would have forbidden any intercourse with her or 
 any belonging to her. 
 
 Not so with her sister. The sufferings of Mrs. Fitzgerald 
 had taken a strong hold on her youthful feelings, and a 
 similarity of opinions and practices on the great object of 
 their lives, had brought them together in a manner no mis- 
 conduct in a third person could weaken. It is true, the 
 recollection of Denbigh was intimately blended with the 
 fate of Mrs. Fitzgerald. But Emily sought support against 
 her feelings from a quarter that rather required an investi- 
 gation of them then a desire to drown care with thought. 
 
 She never indulged in romantic reflections in which the 
 image of Denbigh was associated. This she had hardly 
 done in her happiest moments ; and his marriage, if nothing 
 else had interfered, now absolutely put it out of the ques- 
 tion. But, although a Christian, and an humble and devout 
 one, Emily Moseley was a woman, and had loved ardently, 
 confidingly, and gratefully. Marriage is the business of 
 life with her sex, with all, next to a preparation for a 
 better world, and it cannot be supposed that a first pas- 
 sion in a bosom like that of our heroine was to be suddenly 
 erased, and to leave no vestiges of its existence. 
 
 Her partiality for the society of Derwent, her medita- 
 tions in which she sometimes detected herself drawing a 
 picture of what Denbigh might have been, if early care 
 had been taken to impress him with his situation in this 
 world, and from which she generally retired to her closet 
 and her knees, were the remains of feelings too strong and 
 too pure to be torn from her in a moment. 
 
 The arrival of John, with Grace and Jane, enlivened 
 not only the family but the neighborhood. Mr. Haughton 
 and his numerous friends poured in on the young couple 
 with their congratulations, and a few weeks stole by in- 
 sensibly, previous!/ to the commencement of the journeys 
 
PRECA UT10N. 261 
 
 of Sir Edward and his son, the one to Benfield Lodge and 
 the other to St. James's Square. 
 
 On the return of the travellers, a few days before they 
 commenced their journey to the capital, John laughingly 
 told his uncle that, although he himself greatly admired 
 the taste of Mr. Peter Johnson in dress, yet he doubted 
 whether the present style of fashions in the metropolis 
 would not be scandalized by the appearance of the honest 
 steward. 
 
 John had in fact noticed, in their former visit to London, 
 a mob of mischievous boys eyeing Peter with indications 
 of rebellious movements which threatened the old man, 
 and from which he had retreated by taking a coach, and 
 he now made the suggestion from pure good-nature, to save 
 him any future trouble from a similar cause. 
 
 They were at dinner when Moseley made the remark, 
 and the steward was in his place at the sideboard for 
 his master was at home. Drawing near at the mention 
 of his name first, and casting an eye over his figure to see 
 if all was decent, Peter respectfully broke silence, deter- 
 mined to defend his own cause. 
 
 "Why ! Mr. John Mr. John Moseley ! if I might judge, 
 for an elderly man, and a serving man," said the steward, 
 bowing humbly, " I am no disparagement to my friends, or 
 even to my honored master." 
 
 Johnson's vindication of his wardrobe drew the eyes of 
 the family upon him, and an involuntary smile passed from 
 one to the other, as they admired his starched figure and 
 drab frock, or rather doublet with sleeves and skirts. Sir 
 Edward being of the same opinion with his son, ob- 
 served 
 
 " I do think, Uncle Benfield, there might be an improve- 
 ment in the dress of your steward without much trouble 
 to the ingenuity of his tailor." 
 
 "Sir Edward Moseley honorable sir," said the steward, 
 beginning to grow alarmed, " if I may be so bold, you 
 young gentlemen may like gay clothes ; but as for me and 
 his honor, we are used to such as we wear, and what we 
 are used to we love." 
 
 The old man spoke with earnestness, and drew the par- 
 ticular attention of his master to a review of his attire. 
 After reflecting that no gentleman in the house had been 
 attended by any servitor in such a garb, Mr. Benfield 
 thought it time to give his sentiments on the subject. 
 
 " Why, I remember that my Lord Gosford's gentleman 
 
262 PR EC A UTIOW. 
 
 never wore a livery, nor can I say that he dressed exactly 
 after the manner of Johnson. Every member had his body 
 servant, and they were not unfrequently taken for their 
 masters. Lady Juliana, too, after the death of her nephew, 
 had one or two attendants out of livery, and in a different 
 fashion from your attire. Peter, I think with John Mose- 
 ley there, we must alter you a little for the sake of appear- 
 ance." 
 
 "Your honor! " stammered out Peter, in increased ter- 
 ror ; " for Mr. John Moseley and Sir Edward, and young- 
 erly gentlemen like, dress may do. Now, your honor, 
 if " and Peter, turning to Grace, bowed nearly to the 
 floor " I had such a sweet, most beautiful young lady to 
 smile on me, I might wish to change ; but, sir, my day has 
 gone by." Peter sighed as the recollection of Patty Steele 
 and his youthful love floated across his brain. Grace 
 blushed and thanked him for the compliment, and gave 
 her opinion that his gallantry merited a better costume. 
 
 " Peter," said his master, decidedly, " I think Mrs. 
 Moseley is right. If I should call on the viscountess (the 
 Lady Juliana, who yet survived, an ancient dowager of 
 seventy), I shall want your attendance, and in your pres- 
 ent garb you cannot fail to shock her delicate feelings. 
 You remind me now I think, every time I look at you, of 
 old Harry, the earl's gamekeeper, one of the most cruel 
 men I ever knew." 
 
 This decided the matter. Peter well knew that his mas- 
 ter's antipathy to old Harry arose from his having pur- 
 sued a poacher one day, in place of helping the Lady 
 Juliana over a stile, in her flight from a bull that was 
 playing his gambols in the same field ; and not for the 
 world would the faithful steward retain even a feature, if 
 it brought unpleasant recollections to his kind master. He 
 at one time thought of closing his innovations on his ward- 
 robe, however, with a change of his nether garment ; as, 
 after a great deal of study, he could only make out the re- 
 semblance between himself and the obnoxious gamekeeper 
 to consist in the leathern breeches. But fearful of some 
 points escaping his memory in forty years, he tamely ac- 
 quiesced in all John's alterations, and appeared at his 
 station three days afterward newly decked from head to 
 foot in a more modern suit of snuff-color. 
 
 The change once made,. Peter greatly admired himself 
 in a glass, and thought, could he have had the taste of Mr. 
 John Mosciey in his youth to direct his toilet, that the 
 
PRECA UTION-. 263 
 
 hard heart of Patty Steele would not always have con- 
 tinued so obdurate. 
 
 Sir Edward wished to collect his neighbors round him 
 once more before he left them for another four months : 
 and accordingly the rector and his wife, Francis and 
 Clara, the Haughtons, with a few others, dined at the Hall 
 by invitation, the last day of their stay in Northampton- 
 shire. The company had left the table to join the ladies, 
 when Grace came into the drawing-room with a face cov- 
 ered with smiles and beaming with pleasure. 
 
 "You look like the bearer of good news, Mrs. Moseley," 
 cried the rector, catching a glimpse of her countenance as 
 she passed. 
 
 " Good ! I sincerely hope and believe," replied Grace. 
 " My letters from my brother announce that his marriage 
 took place last week, and give us hopes of seeing them all 
 in town within the month." 
 
 " Married ! " exclaimed Mr. Haughton, casting his eyes 
 unconsciously on Emily, " my Lord Chatterton married ! 
 May I ask the name of the bride, my dear Mrs. Moseley ? " 
 
 " To Lady Harriet Denbigh and at Denbigh Castle in 
 Westmoreland ; but very privately, as you may suppose 
 from seeing Moseley and myself here," answered Grace, 
 her cheeks yet glowing with surprise and pleasure at the 
 intelligence. 
 
 " Lady Harriet Denbigh? " echoed Mr. Haughton ; " what ! 
 a kinswoman of our old friend ? your friend, Miss Emily ? " 
 the recollection of the service he had performed at the 
 arbor still fresh in his memory. 
 
 Emily commanded herself sufficiently to reply, " Broth- 
 ers' children, I believe, sir." 
 
 ''But a lady how came she my lady ?" continued the 
 good man, anxious to know the whole, and ignorant of 
 any reasons for delicacy where so great a favorite as Den- 
 bigh was in the question. 
 
 " She is the daughter of the late Duke of Derwent," 
 said Mrs. Moseley, as willing as himself to talk of her new 
 sister. 
 
 " How happens it that the death of old Mr. Denbigh 
 was announced as plain George Denbigh, Esq., if he was 
 a brother of a duke ? " said Jane, forgetting, for a moment, 
 the presence of Dr. and Mrs. Ives, in her surviving passion 
 for genealogy ; " should he not have been called Lord 
 George, or honorable ? " 
 
 This was the first time any allusion had been made to 
 
264 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 the sudden death in the church by any of the Moseleys in 
 the hearing of the rector's family ; and the speaker sat in 
 breathless terror at her own inadvertancy. But Dr. Ives, 
 observing that a profound silence prevailed as soon as 
 Jane ended, answered mildly, though in a way to prevent 
 any further comment 
 
 "The late duke's succeeding a cousin-german in the 
 title, was the reason, I presume. Emily, I am to hear 
 from you by letter, I hope, after you enter into the gaye- 
 ties of the metropolis ? " 
 
 This Emily cheerfully promised, and the conversation 
 took another turn. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had carefully avoided all communications 
 with the rector concerning his youthful friend, and the 
 doctor appeared unwilling to commence anything which 
 might lead to his name being mentioned. " He is disap- 
 pointed in him as well as ourselves," thought the widow, 
 " and it must be unpleasant to have his image recalled. 
 He saw his attentions to Emily, and he knows of his mar- 
 riage to Lady Laura, of course, and he loves us all, 
 and Emily in particular, too well not to feel hurt by his 
 conduct." 
 
 " Sir Edward ! " cried Mr. Haughton, with a laugh, 
 "baronets are likely to be plenty. Have you heard how 
 near we were to have another in the neighborhood lately ? " 
 
 Sir Edward answered in the negative, and his neighbor 
 continued 
 
 " Why, no less a man than Captain Jarvis, promoted to 
 the bloody hand." 
 
 " Captain Jarvis ! " exclaimed five or six at once ; " ex- 
 plain yourself, Mr. Haughton." 
 
 "My near neighbor, young Walker, has been to Bath on 
 an unusual business his health and for the benefit of the 
 country he has brought back a pretty piece of scandal. 
 It seems that Lady Jarvis, as I am told she is since she 
 left here, wished to have her hopeful heir made a lord, 
 and that the two united for some six months in forming a 
 kind of savings bank between themselves, to enable them 
 at some future day to bribe the minister to honor the 
 peerage with such a prodigy. After a while the daughter 
 of our late acquaintance, Sir William Harris, became an 
 accessory to the plot, and a contributor, too, to the tune 
 of a couple of hundred pounds. Some circumstances, 
 however, at length made this latter lady suspicious, and 
 she wished to audit the books. The captain prevaricated 
 
PRECA UTION. 265 
 
 the lady remonstrated, until the gentleman, with more 
 truth than manners, told her that she was a fool the 
 money he had expended or lost at dice ; and that he did 
 not think the ministers quite so siily as to make him a 
 lord, or that he himself was such a fool as to make her his 
 wife : so the whole thing exploded." 
 
 John listened with a delight but little short of what he 
 had felt when Grace owned her love, and anxious to know 
 all, eagerly inquired 
 
 " But is it true ? How was it found out ?" 
 
 " Oh, the lady complained of part, and the captain tells 
 all to get the laugh on his side ; so that Walker says the 
 former is the derision, and the latter the contempt of all 
 Bath." 
 
 " Poor Sir William," said the baronet, with feeling ; 
 "he is much to be pitied." 
 
 " I am afraid he has nothing to blame but his own in- 
 dulgence," remarked the rector. 
 
 "You don't know the worst of it," replied Mr. Haugh- 
 ton. " We poor people are made to suffer Lady Jarvis 
 wept and fretted Sir Timo out of his lease, which has been 
 given up, and a new house is to be taken in another part 
 of the kingdom, where neither Miss Harris nor the story 
 is known." 
 
 " Then Sir William has to procure a new tenant," said 
 Lady Moseley, not in the least regretting the loss of the 
 old one. 
 
 , "No! my lady!" continued Mr. Haughton, with a 
 smile. "Walker is, you know, an attorney, and does some 
 business occasionally for Sir William. When Jarvis gave 
 up the lease, the baronet, who finds himself a little short 
 of money, offered the deanery for sale, it being a useless 
 place to him ; and the very next day, while Walker was 
 with Sir William, a gentleman called, and without hig- 
 gling agreed to pay down at once his thirty thousand 
 pounds for it." 
 
 "And who is the purchaser?" inquired Lady Moseley, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "The Earl of Pendennyss." 
 
 " Lord Pendennyss ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, in rapture. 
 
 " Pendennyss ! " cried the rector, eyeing the aunt and 
 Emily with a smile. 
 
 " Pendennyss ! " echoed all in the room in amazement. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Haughton, "it is now the property of 
 the earl, who says he has bought it for his sister." 
 
266 PRE CA UT1 ON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 MRS. WILSON found time the ensuing day to ascertain, 
 before they left the hall, the truth of the tale related by 
 Mr. Haughton. The deanery had certainly changed its 
 master, and a new steward had already arrived to take 
 possession in the name of his lord. What induced Pen- 
 dennyss to make this purchase she was at loss to conceive 
 most probably some arrangement between himself and 
 Lord Bolton. But whatever might be his motive, it in 
 some measure insured his becoming for a season their 
 neighbor ; and Mrs. Wilson felt a degree of pleasure at 
 the circumstance that she had been a stranger to for a long 
 time a pleasure which was greatly heightened as she 
 dwelt on the lovely face of the companion who occupied 
 the other seat in her travelling chaise. 
 
 The road to London led by the gates of the deanery, 
 and near them they passed a servant in the livery of those 
 they had once seen following the equipage of the earl. 
 Anxious to know anything which might hasten her ac- 
 quaintance with this admired nobleman, Mrs. Wilson 
 stopped her carriage to inquire. 
 
 " Pray, sir, whom do you serve ? " 
 
 " My Lord Pendennyss, ma'am," replied the man, re- 
 spectfully taking off his hat. 
 
 "The earl is not here?" asked Mrs. Wilson, with in- 
 terest. 
 
 " Oh no, madam ; I am here in waiting on his steward. 
 My lord is in Westmoreland, with his grace and Colonel 
 Denbigh, and the ladies." 
 
 " Does he remain there long ? " continued the anxious 
 widow, desirous of knowing all she could learn. 
 
 " I believe not, madam ; most of our people have gone 
 to Annerdale House, and my lord is expected in town with 
 the duke and the colonel." 
 
 As the servant was an elderly man, and appeared to un- 
 derstand the movements of his master so well, Mrs. Wilson 
 was put in unusual spirits by this prospect of a speedy ter- 
 mination to her anxiety to meet Pendennyss. 
 
 " Annerdale House is the earl's town residence ? " quietly 
 inquired Emily. 
 
 " Yes ; he got the fortune of the last duke of that title, 
 but how I do not exactly know. I believe, however, 
 
PRECA UTION; 267 
 
 through his mother. General Wilson did not know his 
 family ; indeed, Pendennyss bore a second title during his 
 lifetime. But did you observe how very civil his servant 
 was, as well as the one John spoke to before, a sure sign 
 their master is a gentleman ! " 
 
 Emily smiled at the strong partialities of her aunt, and 
 replied, " Your handsome chaise and attendants will draw 
 respect from most men in his situation, dear aunt, be their 
 masters who they may." 
 
 The expected pleasure of meeting the earl was a topic 
 frequently touched upon between her aunt and Emily 
 during their journey ; the former beginning to entertain 
 hopes she would have laughed at herself for, could they 
 have been fairly laid before her ; and the later entertaining 
 a profound respect for his character, but chiefly governed 
 by a wish to gratify her companion. 
 
 The third day they reached the baronet's handsome 
 house in St. James's Square, and found that the forethought 
 of John had provided everything in the best and most 
 comfortable manner. 
 
 It was the first visit of both Jane and Emily to the me- 
 tropolis ; and under the protection of their almost equally 
 curious mother, and escorted by John, they wisely deter- 
 mined to visit the curiosities, while their leisure yet ad- 
 mitted of the opportunity. For the first two weeks their 
 time was chiefly employed in the indulgence of this un- 
 fashionable and vulgar propensity, which if it had no 
 other tendency, served greatly to draw the thoughts of 
 both the young women from the recollections of the last 
 few months. 
 
 While her sister and nieces were thus employed, Mrs. 
 Wilson, assisted by Grace, was occupied in getting things 
 in preparation to do credit to the baronet's hospitality. 
 
 The second week after their arrival, Mrs. Moseley was 
 delighted by seeing advance upon her unexpectedly 
 through the door of the breakfast parlor, her brother, 
 with his bride leaning on his arm. After the most sincere 
 greetings and congratulations, Lady Chatterton cried out 
 gayly : 
 
 " You see, my dear Lady Moseley, I am determined to 
 banish ceremony between us, and so, instead of sending 
 you my card, have come myself to notify you of my arrival. 
 Chatterton would not suffer me even to swallow my break- 
 fast, he was so impatient to show me off." 
 
 " You are placing things exactly on the footing I wish 
 
268 PRECA UTION. 
 
 to see ourselves with all our connections," replied Lady 
 Moseley, kindly ; " but what have you done with the 
 duke ? is he not in your train ? " 
 
 " Oh ! he is gone to Canterbury with George Denbigh, 
 madam," cried the lady, shaking her head reproachfully 
 though affectionately at Emily ; " his grace dislikes Lon- 
 don just now excessively, he says, and the colonel being 
 obliged to leave his wife on regimental business, Derwent 
 was good enough to keep him company during his exile." 
 
 "And Lady Laura, do we see her?" inquired Lady 
 Moseley. 
 
 " She came with us. Pendennyss and his sister follow 
 immediately ; so, my dear madam, the dramatis personae 
 will all be on the stage soon." 
 
 Cards and visits now began to accumulate on the Mose- 
 leys, and their time no longer admitted of that unfettered 
 leisure which they had enjoyed at their entrance on the 
 scene. Mrs. Wilson, for herself and charge, adopted a 
 rule for the government of her manner of living, which 
 was consistent with her duties. They mixed in general 
 society sparingly ; and, above all, they rigidly adhered to 
 the obedience to the injunction which commanded them 
 to keep the Sabbath day holy ; a duty of no trifling diffi- 
 culty to perform in fashionable society in the city of Lon- 
 don, or, indeed, in any other place, where the influence of 
 fashion has supplanted the laws of God. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson was not a bigot ; but she knew and per- 
 formed her duty rigidly. It was a pleasure to her to do so. 
 It would have been misery to do otherwise. In the single- 
 ness of heart and deep piety of her niece, she had a willing 
 pupil to her system of morals and a rigid follower of her 
 religious practices. As they both knew that the tempta- 
 tions to go astray were greater in town than in country, 
 they kept a strict guard over the tendency to err, and in 
 watchfulness found their greatest security. 
 
 John Moseley, next to his friends, loved his bays : in- 
 deed, if the aggregate of his affections for these and Lady 
 Herrieiield had been put in opposite scales, we strongly 
 suspect the side of the horses would predominate. 
 
 One Sunday, soon after being domesticated, John, who 
 had soberly attended morning service with the ladies, came 
 into a little room where the more reflecting part of the 
 family were assembled, in search of his wife. 
 
 Grace, we have before mentioned, had become a real 
 member of that church in which she had been educated, 
 
PRECA UTION. 269 
 
 and had entered, under the direction of Dr. Ives and Mrs. 
 Wilson, into an observance of its wholesome ordinances. 
 Grace was certainly piously inclined, if not devout. Her 
 feelings on the subject of religion had been sensibly 
 awakened during their voyage to Lisbon ; and at the period 
 of which we write, Mrs. Moseley was as sincerely disposed 
 to perform her duty as her powers admitted. To the re- 
 quest of her husband, that she would take a seat in his 
 phaeton while he drove her round the park once or twice, 
 Grace gave a mild refusal, by saying, 
 
 " It is Sunday, my dear Moseley." 
 
 " Do you think I don't know that ? " cried John, gayly. 
 " There will be everybody there, and the better day, the 
 better deed." 
 
 Now, Moseley, if he had been asked to apply this speech 
 to the case before them, would have frankly owned his in- 
 ability ; but his wife did not make the trial : she was con- 
 tented with saying, as she laid down her book to look on 
 a face she so tenderly loved, 
 
 " Ah ! Moseley, you should set a better example to those 
 below you in life." 
 
 " I wish to set an example," returned her husband, with 
 an affectionate smile, " to all above as well as below me, in 
 order that they may find out the path to happiness, by ex- 
 hibiting to the world a model of a wife in yourself, dear 
 Grace." 
 
 As this was uttered with a sincerity which distinguished 
 the manner of Moseley, his wife was more pleased with 
 the compliment than she would have been willing to make 
 known ; and John spoke no more than he thought ; for a 
 desire to show his handsome wife was the ruling passion 
 for a moment. 
 
 The husband was too pressing and the wife too fond not 
 to yield the point ; and Grace took her seat in the carriage 
 with a kind of half-formed resolution to improve the op- 
 portunity by a discourse on serious subjects a resolution 
 which terminated as all others do, that postpone one 
 duty to discharge another of less magnitude ; it was for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had listened with interest to the efforts of 
 John to prevail on his wife to take the ride, and on her 
 leaving the room to comply she observed to Emily, with 
 whom she now remained alone 
 
 " Here is a consequence of a difference in religious 
 views between man and wife, my child : John, in place of 
 
270 PRECA UTION-. 
 
 supporting Grace in the discharge of her duties, has been 
 the actual cause of her going astray." 
 
 Emily felt the force of her aunt's remark, and saw its 
 justice ; yet her love for the offender induced her to say 
 
 "John will not lead her openly astray, for he has a sin- 
 cere respect for religion, and this offence is not unpardon- 
 able, dear aunt." 
 
 " The offence is assuredly not unpardonable," replied 
 Mrs. Wilson, " and to infinite mercy it is hard to say what 
 is ; but it is an offence, and directly in the face of an ex- 
 press ordinance of the Lord ; it is even throwing off the ap- 
 fiearanceoi keepingthe Sabbath day holy, much less observ- 
 ing the substance of the commandment ; and as to John's 
 respect for holy things in this instance, it was injurious to 
 his wife. Had he been an open deist she would have 
 shrunk from the act in suspicion of its sinfulness. Either 
 John must become a Christian, or I am afraid Grace will 
 fall from her undertaking." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson shook her head mournfully, while Emily 
 offered up a silent petition that the first might speedily be 
 the case. 
 
 Lady Laura had been early in her visit to the Moseleys ; 
 and as Denbigh had both a town residence and a seat in 
 parliament, it appeared next to impossible to avoid meet- 
 ing him or to requite the pressing civilities of his wife by 
 harsh refusals, that might prove in the end injurious to 
 themselves by creating a suspicion that resentment at his 
 not choosing a partner from among them, governed the 
 conduct of the Moseleys toward a man to whom they were 
 under such a heavy obligation. 
 
 Had Sir Edward known as much as his sister and daugh- 
 ters, he would probably have discountenanced the ac- 
 quaintance altogether ; but owing to the ignorance of the 
 rest of her friends of what had passed, Mrs. Wilson and 
 Emily had not only the assiduities of Lady Laura, but the 
 wishes of their own family to contend with, and conse- 
 quently she submitted to the association with a reluctance 
 that was, in some measure, counteracted by their regard 
 for Lady Laura, and by compassion for her abused confi- 
 dence. 
 
 A distant connection of Lady Moseley's had managed to 
 collect in her house a few hundred of her nominal friends, 
 and as she had been particularly attentive in calling in 
 person on her venerable relative, Mr. Benfield, soon after 
 his arrival in town, out of respect to her father's cousin, 
 
PRECA UTION. 271 
 
 or perhaps mindful of his approaching end, and remem- 
 bering there were such things as codicils to wills, the old 
 man, flattered by her notice, and yet too gallant to reject 
 the favor of a lady, consented to accompany the remainder 
 of the family on the occasion. 
 
 Most of their acquaintances were there, and Lady Mose- 
 ley soon found herself engaged in a party at quadrille, 
 while the young people were occupied by the usual amuse- 
 ments of their age in such scenes. Emily alone, feeling 
 but little desire to enter into the gayety of general conver- 
 sation with a host of gentlemen who had collected round 
 her aunt and sisters, offered her arm to Mr. Benfield, on 
 seeing him manifest a disposition to take a closer view of 
 the company, and walked away with him. 
 
 They wandered from room to room, unconscious of the 
 observation attracted by the sight of a man in the costume 
 of Mr. Benfield, leaning on the arm of so young and lovely 
 a woman as his niece ; and many an exclamation of sur- 
 prise, ridicule, admiration, and wonder had been made, 
 unnoticed by the pair, until finding the crowd rather incon- 
 venient to her companion, Emily gently drew him into one 
 of the apartments where the card-tables and the general 
 absence of beauty made room less difficult to be found. 
 
 "Ah ! Emmy dear," said the old gentleman, wiping his 
 face, "times are much changed, I see, since my youth. 
 Then you would see no such throngs assembled in so small 
 a space ; gentlemen shoving ladies, and yes, Emmy," con- 
 tinued her uncle in a lower tone, as if afraid of uttering 
 something dangerous, " the ladies themselves shouldering 
 the men. I remember at a drum given by Lady Gosford, 
 that although I may, without vanity, say I was one of the 
 gallantest men in the room, I came in contact with but one 
 of the ladies during the whole evening, with the exception 
 of handing the Lady Juliana to a chair, and that," said her 
 uncle, stopping short and lowering his voice to a whisper, 
 "was occasioned by a mischance in the old duchess in ris- 
 ing from her seat when she had taken too much strong 
 waters, as she was at times a little troubled with a pain in 
 the chest." 
 
 Emily smiled at the casualty of her grace, and they pro- 
 ceeded slowly through the tables until their passage was 
 stopped by a party at the game of whist, which, by its in- 
 congruous mixture of ages and character, forcibly drew 
 her attention. 
 
 The party was composed of a young man of five or six 
 
272 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 and twenty, who threw down his cards in careless indif- 
 ference, and heedlessly played with the guineas which 
 were laid on the side of the table as markers, or the fruits 
 of a former victory ; or by stealing hasty and repeated 
 glances through the vista of the tables into the gayer 
 scenes of the adjoining rooms, proved he was in duresse, 
 and waited for an opportunity to make his escape from the 
 tedium of cards and ugliness to the life of conversation 
 and beauty. 
 
 His partner was a woman of doubtful age, and one 
 whose countenance rather indicated that the uncertainty 
 was likely to continue until the record of the tomb-stone 
 divulged the so often contested circumstance to the world. 
 Her eyes also wandered to the gayer scenes, but with an 
 expression of censoriousness mingled with longings ; nor 
 did she neglect the progress of the game as frequently as 
 her more heedless partner. A glance thrown on the 
 golden pair which was placed between her and her neigh- 
 bor on her right, marked the importance of the corner, and 
 she shuffled the cards with a nervousness which plainly 
 denoted her appprehension of the consequences of her 
 partner's abstraction. 
 
 Her neighbor on the right was a man of sixty, and his 
 vestments announced him a servant of the sanctuary. His 
 intentness on the game proceeded, no doubt, from his 
 habits of reflection ; his smile at success quite possibly 
 from charity to his neighbors ; his frown in adversity from 
 displeasure at the triumphs of the wicked, for such in his 
 heart he had set down Miss Wigram to be ; and his uncon- 
 querable gravity in the employment from a profound re- 
 gard to the dignity of his holy office. 
 
 The fourth performer in this trial of memories was an 
 ancient lady, gayly dressed, and intently eager on the 
 game. Between her and the young man was a large pile 
 of guineas, which appeared to be her exclusive property, 
 from which she repeatedly, during the play, tendered one 
 to his acceptance on the event of a hand or a trick, and to 
 which she seldom failed from inadvertence to add his mite, 
 contributing to accumulate the pile. 
 
 " Two double and the rub, my dear doctor," exclaimed 
 the senior lady, in triumph. " Sir William, you owe me 
 ten." 
 
 The money was paid as easily as it had been won, and 
 the dowager proceeded to settle some bets with her female, 
 antagonist 
 
PRECA UTION. 273 
 
 " Two more, I fancy, ma'am," said she, closely scanning 
 the contributions of the maiden. 
 
 " I believe it is right, my lady," was the answer, with a 
 look that said pretty plainly, that or nothing. 
 
 u I beg pardon, my dear, here are but four ; and you 
 remember two on the corner, and four on the points. 
 Doctor, I will trouble you for a couple of guineas from 
 Miss Wigram's store ; I am in haste to get to the countess's 
 route." 
 
 The doctor was coolly helping himself from the said 
 Store, under the watchful eyes of its owner, and secretly 
 exulting in his own judgment in requiring the stakes, 
 when the maiden replied in great warmth : 
 
 " Your ladyship forgets the two you lost to me at Mrs. 
 Howard's." 
 
 " It must be a mistake, my dear, I always pay as I lose," 
 cried the dowager, with great spirit, stretching over the 
 table and helping herself to the disputed money. 
 
 Mr. Benfield and Emily had stood silent spectators of 
 the whole scene, the latter in astonishment to meet such 
 manners in such society, and the former under feelings it 
 would have been difficult to describe ; for in the face of 
 the dowager, which was inflamed partly from passion and 
 more from high living, he recognized' the remains of his 
 Lady Juliana, now the Dowager Viscountess Haverford. 
 
 " Emmy, dear," said the old man, with a heavy-drawn 
 sigh, as if awaking from a long and troubled dream, " we 
 will go." 
 
 The phantom of forty years had vanished before the 
 truth ; and the fancies of retirement, simplicity, and a dis- 
 eased imagination yielded to the influence of life and com- 
 mon sense. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 WITH Harriet, now closely connected with them by mar- 
 riage as well as attachment, the baronet's family main- 
 tained a most friendly intercourse ; and Mrs. Wilson, and 
 Emily, a prodigious favorite with her new cousin, con- 
 sented to pass a day soberly with her during an excursion 
 of her husband to Windsor on business connected with his 
 station. They had, accordingly, driven round to an early 
 breakfast ; and Chatterton, after politely regretting his loss, 
 18 
 
274 PRECAUTION. 
 
 and thanking t'aem for their consideration for his wife, 
 made his bow. 
 
 Lady Harriet Denbigh had brought the baron a very sub- 
 stantial addition to his fortune ; and as his sisters were both 
 provided for by ample settlements, the pecuniary distresses 
 which had existed a twelvemonth before had been entirely 
 removed. Chatterton's income was now large, his de- 
 mands upon it small, and he kept up an establishment in 
 proportion to the rank of both husband and wife. 
 
 " Mrs. Wilson," cried the hostess, twirling her cup as 
 she followed with her eyes the retreating figure of her 
 husband at the door, " I am about to take up the trade of 
 Miss Harris, and become a match-maker." 
 
 "Not on your own behalf so soon, surely," rejoined the 
 widow. 
 
 " Oh, no, my fortune is made for life, or not at all," con- 
 tinued the other, gayly ; "but in behalf of our little friend^ 
 Emily, here." 
 
 " Me ! " cried Emily, starting from a reverie, in which 
 the prospect of happiness to Lady Laura was the subject ; 
 " you are very good, Harriet ; for whom do you intend 
 me ?" 
 
 " Whom ! Who is good enough for you, but my cousin 
 Pendennyss ? Ah ! " she cried, laughing, as she caught 
 Emily by the hand, " Derwent and myself both settled the 
 matter long since, and I know you will yield when you 
 come to know him." 
 
 " The duke ! " cried the other, with a surprise and inno- 
 cence that immediately brought a blush of the brightest 
 vermilion into her face. 
 
 "Yes, the duke," said Lady Chatterton. "You may 
 think it odd for a discarded lover to dispose of his mistress 
 so soon, but both our hearts are set upon it. The earl ar- 
 rived last night, and this day he and his sister dine with 
 us in a sober way : now, my dear madam," turning to Mrs. 
 Wilson, " have I not prepared an agreeable surprise for 
 
 " Surprise indeed," said the widow, excessively gratified 
 at the probable termination to her anxieties for this meet- 
 ing ; " but where are they from ? " 
 
 " From Northamptonshire, where the earl has already 
 purchased a residence, I understand, and in your neigh- 
 borhood too ;'so, you perceive, he at least begins to think 
 of the thing." 
 
 "A certain evidence, truly," cried Emily, " his having 
 
PRECA UTION*. 275 
 
 purchased the house. But was he without a residence that 
 he bought the deanery ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! he has a palace in town, and three seats in the 
 country ; but none in Northamptonshire but this," said the 
 lady, with a laugh. " To own the truth, he did offer to let 
 George Denbigh have it for the next summer, but the 
 colonel chose to be nearer Eltringham ; and I take it, it 
 was only a ruse in the earl to cloak his own designs. You 
 may depend upon it, we trumpeted your praises to him in- 
 cessantly in Westmoreland." 
 
 " And is Colonel Denbigh in town ? " said Mrs. Wilson, 
 stealing an anxious glance toward her niece, who, in spite 
 of all her efforts, sensibly changed color. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! and Laura is as happy as happy as my- 
 self," said Lady Chatterton, with a glow on her cheeks, as 
 she attended to the request of her housekeeper, and left 
 the room. 
 
 Her guests sat in silence, occupied with their own re- 
 flections, while they heard a summons at the door of the 
 house. It was opened, and footsteps approached the door 
 of their own room. It was pushed partly open, as a voice 
 on the other side said, speaking to a servant without, 
 
 " Very well. Do not disturb your lady ; I am in no 
 haste." 
 
 At the sound of its well-known tones, both the ladies al- 
 most sprang from their seats. Here could be no resem- 
 blance, and a moment removed their doubts. The speaker 
 entered it w r as Denbigh. 
 
 He stood for a moment fixed as a statue. It was evident 
 the surprise was mutual. His face w r as pale as death, and 
 then instantly was succeeded by a glow of fire. Approach- 
 ing them, he paid his compliments with great earnestness, 
 and in a voice in which his softest tones preponderated. 
 
 " I am happy, very happy, to be so fortunate in again 
 meeting with such friends, and so unexpectedly." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson bowed in silence to his compliment, and 
 Emily, pale as himself, sat with her eyes fastened on the 
 carpet, without daring to trust her voice with an attempt 
 to speak. 
 
 After struggling with his mortified feelings for a mo- 
 ment, Denbigh rose from the chair he had taken, and 
 drawing near the sofa on which the ladies were placed, 
 exclaimed with fervor, 
 
 "Tell me, dear madam, lovely, too lovely Miss Moseley, 
 has one act of folly, of wickedness if you please, lost me 
 
276 PRECA UTION". 
 
 your good opinion for ever ? Derwent had given me hopes 
 that you yet retained some esteem for my character, lowered, 
 as I acknowledge it to be, in my own estimation ? " 
 
 " The duke of Derwent ? Mr. Denbigh ! " 
 
 " Do not, do not use a name, dear madam, almost hateful 
 to me," cried he, in a tone of despair. 
 
 " If," said Mrs. Wilson, gravely, " you have made your 
 own name disreputable, I can only regret it, but " 
 
 "Call me by my title oh! do not remind me of my 
 folly ; I cannot bear it, and from you." 
 
 " Your title ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with a cry of won- 
 der, and Emily turned on him a face in which the flashes 
 of color and succeeding paleness were as quick, and al- 
 most as vivid, as the glow of lightning. He caught their 
 astonishment in equal surprise. 
 
 " How is this ? some dreadful mistake, of which I am 
 yet in ignorance," he cried, taking the unresisting hand of 
 Mrs. Wilson, and pressing it with warmth between both 
 his own, as he added, " do not leave me in suspense." 
 
 " For the sake of truth, for my sake, for the sake of this 
 suffering innocent, say, in sincerity, who and what you are," 
 said Mrs. Wilson in a solemn voice, gazing on him in dread 
 of his reply. 
 
 Still retaining her hand, he dropped on his knees before 
 her, as he answered, 
 
 " I am the pupil, the child of your late husband, the 
 companion of his dangers, the sharer of his joys and griefs, 
 and would I could add, the friend of his widow. I am the 
 Earl of Pendennyss." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson's head dropped on the shoulders of the 
 kneeling youth, her arms were thrown in fervor around 
 his neck, and she burst into a flood of tears. For a mo- 
 ment, both were absorbed in their own feelings ; but a cry 
 from Pendennyss aroused the aunt to the situation of her 
 niece. 
 
 Emily had fallen senseless on the sofa. 
 
 An hour elapsed before her engagements admitted of 
 the return of Lady Chatterton to the breakfast parlor, 
 where she was surprised to find the breakfast equipage 
 yet standing, and her cousin, the earl. Looking from one 
 to the other in surprise, she exclaimed, 
 
 " Very sociable, upon my word ; how long has your lord- 
 ship honored my house with your presence, and have you 
 taken the liberty to introduce yourself to Mrs. Wilson and 
 Miss Moseley ?" 
 
PRECA UT10N-. 277 
 
 " Sociability and ease are the fashion of the day. I have 
 been here an hour, my dear coz, and have taken the liberty 
 of introducing myself to Mrs. Wilson and Miss Moseley," 
 replied the earl gravely, although a smile of meaning 
 lighted his handsome features as he uttered the latter part 
 of the sentence, which was returned by Emily with a look 
 of archness and pleasure that would have graced her hap- 
 piest moments of juvenile joy. 
 
 There was such an interchange of looks, and such a vis- 
 ible alteration in the appearance of her guests, that it 
 could not but attract the notice of Lady Chatterton. After 
 listening to the conversation between them for some time 
 in silence, and wondering what could have wrought so 
 sudden a change below stairs, she broke forth with say- 
 ing, 
 
 " Upon my word, you are an incomprehensible party to 
 me. I left you ladies alone, and find a gentleman with 
 you. I left you grave, if not melancholy, and find you 
 all life and gayety. I find you with a stranger, and you 
 talk with him about walks, and rides, and scenes, and ac- 
 quaintances. Will_y<7, madam, or you, my lord, be so kind 
 as to explain these seeming inconsistencies ? " 
 
 "No," cried the earl, "to punish your curiosity, I will 
 keep you in ignorance ; but Marian is in waiting for me 
 at your neighbor's, Mrs. Wilmot, and I must hasten to her 
 you will see us both by five." Rising from his seat he 
 took the offered hand of Mrs. Wilson and pressed it to his 
 lips. To Emily he also extended his hand, and received 
 hers in return, though with a face suffused with the color 
 of the rose. Pendennyss held it to his heart for a mo- 
 ment with fervor, and kissing it, precipitately left the 
 room. Emily concealed her face with her hands, and, 
 dissolving in tears, sought the retirement of an adjoining 
 apartment. 
 
 All these unaccountable movements filled Lady Chatter- 
 ton with amazement, that would have been too painful 
 for further endurance ; and Mrs. Wilson, knowing that 
 further concealment with so near a connection would be 
 impossible, if not unnecessary, entered into a brief explan- 
 ation of the earl's masquerade (although ignorant herself 
 of its cause, or of the means of supporting it), and his 
 present relation with her niece. 
 
 "I declare it is provoking," cried Lady Chatterton, with 
 a tear in her eye, " to have such ingenious plans as Der- 
 went and I had made lost from the want of necessity in 
 
278 PRECA UTION: 
 
 putting them in force. Your demure niece has deceived 
 us all handsomely ; and my rigid cousin, too I will rate 
 him soundly for his deception." 
 
 " I believe he already repents sincerely of his having 
 practised it," said Mrs. Wilson, "and is sufficiently pun- 
 ished for his error by its consequence. A life of misery 
 for four months is a serious penalty to a lover." 
 
 " Yes," said the other ; " I am afraid his punishment was 
 not confined to himself alone ; he has made others suffer 
 from his misconduct. I will rate him famously, depend 
 upon it I will." 
 
 If anything, the interest felt by Lady Chatterton for her 
 friend was increased by the discovery of the affections 
 of Pendennyss, and a few hours were passed by the 
 three, in we will not say sober delight, for transport would 
 be a better word. Lady Chatterton frankly declared that 
 she would rather see Emily the wife of the earl than of her 
 brother, for he alone was good enough for her ; and Mrs. 
 Wilson felt an exhilaration of spirits, in the completion of 
 her most sanguine wishes, that neither her years, her phil- 
 osophy, nor even her religion, could entirely restrain. 
 The face of Emily was a continued blush, her eye sparkled 
 with the lustre of renewed hope, and her bosom was heav- 
 ing with the purest emotions of happiness. 
 
 At the appointed hour the rattling of wheels announced 
 the approach of the earl and his sister. 
 
 Pendennyss came into the room with a young woman of 
 great personal beauty and extremely feminine manners, 
 leaning on his arm. He first announced her to Mrs. Wil- 
 son as his sister, Lady Marian Denbigh, who received her 
 with a frank cordiality that made them instantly ac- 
 quainted. Emily, although confiding in the fullest manner 
 in the truth and worth of her lover, had felt an inexplica- 
 ble sensation of pleasure, as she heard the earl speak of 
 his sister by the name of Marian ; love is such an unquiet, 
 and generally such an engrossing passion, that few avoid 
 unnecessary uneasiness while under its influence, unless so 
 situated as to enjoy a mutual confidence. 
 
 As this once so formidable Marian approached to salute 
 her with an extended hand, Emily rose, with a face illu- 
 mined with pleasure, to receive her. Marian viewed her 
 for a moment intently, and folding her arms around her, 
 whispered softly, as she pressed her to her heart, 
 
 " My sister, my only sister." 
 
 Our heroine was affected to tears, and Pendennyss 
 
PRECAUTION. 279 
 
 gently separating the two he loved best in the world, they 
 soon became calm. 
 
 Lady Marian was extremely like her brother, and had a 
 family resemblance to her cousin Harriet ; but her man- 
 ners were softer and more retiring, and she had a slight 
 tinge of a settled melancholy. When her brother spoke 
 she was generally silent, not in fear, but in love. She evi- 
 dently regarded him among the first of human beings, and 
 all her love was amply returned. 
 
 Both the aunt and niece studied the manners of the 
 earl closely, and found several shades of distinction be- 
 tween what he was and what he had been. He was now 
 the perfect man of the world, without having lost the 
 frank sincerity which caused you to believe all he said. 
 Had Pendennyss once told Mrs. Wilson, with his natural 
 air and manner, " I am innocent," she would have believed 
 him, and an earlier investigation would have saved them 
 months of misery ; but the consciousness of his deception 
 had oppressed him with the curse of the wicked. 
 
 Pendennyss had lost that air of embarrassment and alarm 
 which had so often startled the aunt, even in her hours of 
 greatest confidence, and which had their original in the 
 awkwardness of disguise. But he retained his softness, 
 his respect, his modest diffidence of his opinions, although 
 somewhat corrected now by his acknowledged experience 
 and acquaintance with man. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson thought these decided trifling alterations in 
 manner were improvements ; but it required some days 
 and a few tender speeches to reconcile Emily to any change 
 in the appearance of Denbigh. 
 
 Lady Marian had ordered her carriage early, as she had 
 not anticipated the pleasure she found, and was engaged 
 to accompany her cousin. Lady Laura, to a fashionable 
 rout that evening. Unwilling to be torn from his newly- 
 found friends, the earl proposed that the three ladies should 
 accompany his sister to Annerdale House, and then accept 
 himself as an escort to their own residence. To this Har- 
 riet assented, and leaving a message for Chatterton, they 
 entered the coach of Marian, and Pendennyss, mounting 
 the dicky, drove off. 
 
 Annerdale House was among the best edifices of Lon- 
 don. It had been erected in the preceding century, and 
 Emily for a moment felt, as she went through its splendid 
 apartments, that it threw a chill around hef domestic af- 
 fections : but the figure of Pendennvss by her side recon- 
 
280 PRECA UTION. 
 
 ciled her to a magnificence she had been unused to,' which 
 looked the lord indeed ; but with so much modesty and 
 softness, and so much attention to herself, that before she 
 left the house, Emily began to think it very possible to 
 enjoy happiness even in the lap of splendor. 
 
 The names of Colonel Denbigh and Lady Laura were 
 soon announced, and this formidable gentleman made his 
 appearance. He resembled Pendennyss more than even 
 the duke, and appeared about the same age. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson soon saw that she had no grounds for pity- 
 ing Lady Laura. The colonel was a polished, elegant 
 man, of evident good sense and knowledge of the world, 
 and apparently devoted to his wife. He was called George 
 frequently by all his relatives, and he, not unfrequently, 
 used the same terni himself in speaking to the earl. 
 Something was said of a much admired bust, and the 
 doors of a large library were opened to view it. Emily 
 was running over the backs of a case of books, until her 
 eye rested on one ; and half smiling and blushing she 
 turned to Pendennyss, who watched every movement, as 
 she said, playfully, 
 
 " Pity me, my lord, and lend me this volume." 
 
 "What is it you read?" he asked, as he bowed his 
 cheerful assent. 
 
 But Emily hid the book in her handkerchief. Penden- 
 nyss noticing an unwillingness, though an extremely 
 playful one, to let him into the secret, examined the case, 
 and perceiving her motive, smiled, as he. took down an- 
 other volume and said 
 
 " I am not an Irish, but an English peer, Emily. You 
 had the wrong volume." 
 
 Emily laughed, with deeper blushes, when she found 
 her wishes detected, while the earl, opening the volume 
 he held the first of Debrett's Peerage pointed with his 
 finger to the article concerning his own family, and said 
 to Mrs. Wilson, who had joined them at the instant 
 
 " To-morrow, dear madam, I shall beg your attention to 
 a melancholy tale, and which may, in some slight degree, 
 extenuate the offence I was guilty of in assuming, or 
 rather in maintaining, an accidental disguise." 
 
 As he ended, he went to the others, to draw off their at- 
 tention, while Emily and her aunt examined the para- 
 graph. It was as follows : 
 
 "George Denbigh Earl of Pendennyss and Baron 
 Lumley, of Lumley Castle Baron Pendennyss Beau- 
 
PR EC A UTION. 281 
 
 maris, and Fitzwalter, born , of , in the year of 
 
 ; a bachelor." The list of earls and nobles occupied 
 
 several pages, but the closing article was as follows : 
 
 "George, the 2ist earl, succeeded his mother Marian, 
 late Countess of Pendennyss, in her own right, being born 
 of her marriage with George Denbigh, Esq., a cousin- 
 german to Frederick, the gth Duke of Derwent." 
 
 " Heir apparent. The titles being to heirs general, will 
 descend to his lordship's sister, Lady Marian Denbigh, 
 should the present earl die without lawful issue." 
 
 As much of the explanation of the mystery of our tale 
 is involved in the foregoing paragraphs, we may be al- 
 lowed to relate in our own language, what Pendennyss 
 made his friends acquainted with at different times, and in 
 a manner suitable to the subject and his situation. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 IT was at the close of that war which lost this country 
 the wealthiest and most populous of her American colo- 
 nies, that a fleet of ships were returning from their service 
 among the islands of the New World, to seek for their 
 worn out and battered hulks, and equally weakened crews, 
 the repairs and comforts of England and home. 
 
 The latter word, to the mariner the most endearing of 
 all sounds, had, as it were, drawn together by instinct a 
 group of sailors on the forecastle of the proudest ship of 
 the squadron, who gazed with varied emotions on the land 
 which gave them birth, but with one common feeling of 
 joy that the day of attaining it was at length arrived. 
 
 The water curled from the bows of this castle of the 
 ocean, in increasing waves and growing murmurs, that at 
 times drew the attention of the veteran tar to their quick- 
 ening progress, and having cheered his heart with the sight, 
 he cast his experienced eye in silence on the swelling sails, 
 to see if nothing more could be done to shorten the dis- 
 tance between him and his country. 
 
 Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the land of their birth, 
 and hundreds of hearts were beating in that one vessel with 
 the awakening delights of domestic love and renewed af- 
 fections ; but no tongue broke the disciplined silence of 
 the ship into sounds that overcame the propitious ripple 
 of the water. 
 
282 PRECAUTION: 
 
 On the highest summit of their towering mast floated a 
 small blue flag, the symbol of authority, and beneath it 
 paced a man to and fro the deck, which was abandoned by 
 his inferiors to his more elevated rank. His square-built 
 form and care-worn features, which had lost the brilliancy 
 of an English complexion, and hair whitened prematurely, 
 spoke of bodily vigor and arduous services which had put 
 that vigor to the severest trials. 
 
 At each turn of his walk, as he faced the land of his na- 
 tivity, a lurking smile stole over his sunburnt features, and 
 then a glance of his eye would scan the progress of the 
 far-stretched squadron which obeyed his orders, and which 
 he was now returning to his superiors, undiminished in 
 numbers, and proud with victory. 
 
 By himself stood an officer in a uniform differing from 
 all around him. His figure was small, his eye restless, 
 quick, and piercing, and bent on those shores to which he 
 was unwillingly advancing, with a look of anxiety and 
 mortification, that showed him the late commander of those 
 vessels around them, which, by displaying their double 
 flags, manifested to the eye of the seaman a recent change 
 of masters. 
 
 Occasionally the conqueror would stop, and by some 
 effort of well meant, but rather uncouth civility, endeavor 
 to soften the hours of captivity ; efforts which were re- 
 ceived with the courtesy of the most punctilious etiquette, 
 but a restraint which showed that they were unwelcome. 
 
 It was, perhaps, the most unlucky moment that had oc- 
 curred within the two months of their association, for an 
 exchange of their better feelings. The honest heart of the 
 English tar dilated with ill-concealed delight at his ap- 
 proach to the termination of labors performed with credit 
 and honor, and his smiles and good-humor, which partly 
 proceeded from the feelings of a father and a friend, were 
 daggers to the heart of his discomfited rival. 
 
 A third personage now appeared from the cabin of the 
 vessel, and approached the spot where the adverse admirals 
 at the moment were engaged in one of these constrained 
 conferences. 
 
 The appearance and dress of this gentleman differed 
 widely from the two just described. He was tall, grace- 
 ful, and dignified ; he was a soldier, and clearly of high 
 rank. His carefully dressed hair concealed the ravages of 
 time ; and on the quarter-deck of a first-rate his attire and 
 manners were suited to a field-day in the park. 
 
PRECA UTION. 283 
 
 " I really insist, monsieur," cried the admiral, good- 
 naturedly, " that you shall take part of my chaise to Lon- 
 don. You are a stranger, and it will help to keep up your 
 spirits by the way." 
 
 " You are very good, Monsieur Howell," replied the 
 Frenchman, with a polite bow and forced smile, miscon- 
 struing ill-judged benevolence into a wish for his person 
 to grace a triumph " but I have accepted the offer Mon- 
 sieur le General Denbigh was so good as to make me." 
 
 " The comte is engaged to me, Howell," said the gen- 
 eral, with a courtly smile, " and, indeed, you must leave 
 the ship to-night, or as soon as we anchor. But I shall 
 take daylight and to-morrow." 
 
 " Well well Denbigh," exclaimed the other, rubbing 
 his hands with pleasure as he viewed the increasing power 
 of the wind, " only make yourselves happy, and I am con- 
 tented." 
 
 A few hours intervened before they reached the Bay of 
 Plymouth, and round the table, after their dinner, were 
 seated the general and English admiral. The comte, under 
 the pretence of preparing his things for a removal, had re- 
 tired to his apartment to conceal his feelings ; and the 
 captain of the ship was above, superintending the approach 
 of the vessel to her anchorage. Two or three well-emptied 
 bottles of wine yet remained ; but as the healths of all the 
 branches of the House of Brunswick had been propitiated 
 from their contents, with a polite remembrance of Louis 
 XVI. and Marie Antoinette from General Denbigh, neither 
 of the superiors was much inclined for action. 
 
 " Is the Thunderer in her station ? " said the admiral 
 to the signal lieutenant, who at that moment came below 
 with a report. 
 
 " Yes, sir, and has answered." 
 
 " Very well make the signal to prepare to anchor." 
 
 "Ay, ay, sir." 
 
 " And here, Bennet," to the retiring lieutenant, "call the 
 transports all in shore of us." 
 
 " Three hundred and eighty-four, sir," said the officer, 
 looking at his signal-book. 
 
 The admiral cast his eye at the book, and nodded an 
 assent. 
 
 "And let the Mermaid Flora Weasel Bruiser, and 
 all the sloops lie well off, until we have landed the sol- 
 diers ; the pilot says the channel is full of luggers, and 
 Jonathan has grown very saucy." 
 
284 PRECA UTION. 
 
 The lieutenant made a complying bow, and was retiring 
 to execute these orders, as Admiral Howell, taking up a 
 bottle not yet entirely deserted by its former tenant, cried 
 stoutly " Here, Bennet I forgot take a glass of wine ; 
 drink success to ourselves, and defeat to the French all 
 over the world." 
 
 The general pointed significantly to the adjoining cabin 
 of the French admiral, as he pressed his hand on his lips 
 for silence. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Admiral Howell, recollecting himself, con- 
 tinuing in a whisper, " you can drink it in your heart, not- 
 withstanding." 
 
 The signal officer nodded, and drank the liquor. As he 
 smacked his lips while going on deck, he thought to him- 
 self, these nabobs drink famous good wine. 
 
 Although the feelings of General Denbigh were undef 
 much more command and disciplined obedience than those 
 of his friends, yet was he too unusually elated with his 
 return to home and expected honors. If the admiral had 
 captured a fleet, he had taken an island ; and hand in hand 
 they had co-operated in unusual harmony through the 
 difficulties of an arduous campaign. This rather singular 
 circumstance was owing to their personal friendship. From 
 their youth they had been companions, and although of 
 very different characters and habits, chance had cemented 
 their intimacy in more advanced life. While in subordi- 
 nate stations, they had been associated together in ser- 
 vice ; and the general and admiral, in command of an 
 army and fleet, had once before returned to England with 
 less renown, as a colonel and a captain of a frigate. The 
 great family influence of the soldier, with the known cir- 
 cumstance of their harmony, had procured them this later 
 command, and home, with its comforts and rewards, was 
 close before them. Pouring out a glass of Madeira, the 
 general, who always calculated what he said, exclaimed 
 
 " Peter we have been friends from boys." 
 
 " To be sure we have," said the admiral, looking up in a 
 little surprise at this unexpected commencement "and it 
 will not be my fault if we do not die such, Frederick." 
 
 Dying was a subject the general did not much delight 
 in, although of conspicuous courage in the field ; and he 
 proceeded to his more important purpose 
 
 " I could never find, although I have looked over our 
 family tree so often, that we are in any manner related; 
 Howell." 
 
PRECA UTION. 285 
 
 " I believe it is too late to mend that matter now," said 
 the admiral, musing. 
 
 " Why no hem I think not, Howell ; take a glass of 
 this Burgundy." 
 
 The admiral shook his head with a stubborn resolution 
 to taste nothing -French, but he helped himself to a boun- 
 tiful stock of Madeira, as he replied 
 
 " I should like to know how you can bring it about this 
 time of day, Denbigh ?" 
 
 " How much money will you be able to give that girl of 
 yours, Peter ? " said his friend, evading the point. 
 
 " Forty thousand down, my good fellow, and as much 
 more when I die," cried the open-hearted sailor, with a nod 
 of exultation. 
 
 " George, my youngest son, will not be rich but Francis 
 will be a duke, and have a noble estate ; yet," said the 
 general, meditating, "he is so unhappy in his disposition 
 and uncouth in his manners, I cannot think of offering him 
 to your daughter as a husband." 
 
 " Isabel shall marry a good-natured man, like myself, or 
 not at' all," said the admiral, positively, but not in the least 
 suspecting the drift of his friend, who was influenced by 
 anything but a regard for the lady's happiness. 
 
 Francis, his first born, was, in truth, as he had described ; 
 but his governing wish was to provide for his favorite 
 George. Dukes could never want wives, but unportioned 
 captains in the guards might. 
 
 " George is one of the best tempers in the world," 
 said his father, with strong feeling, " and the delight of 
 us all. I could wish he had been the heir to the family 
 honors." 
 
 " That it is certainly too late to help," cried the admiral, 
 wondering if the ingenuity of his friend could devise 9 
 a remedy for this evil too. 
 
 " Too late, indeed," said the other, with a heavy sigh, 
 "but Howell, what say you to matching Isabel with my 
 favorite George?" 
 
 " Denbigh," cried the sailor, eying him keenly, " Isabel 
 is my only child, and a dutiful, good girl ; one that will 
 obey orders if she breaks owners, as we sailors say. Now 
 I did think of marrying her to a seaman, when a proper 
 man came athwart my course ; yet your son is a soldier, 
 and that is next to being in the navy ; if so be you had 
 made him come aboard me, when I wanted you to, there 
 would have been no objection at all ; however, when oc- 
 
286 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 casion offers, I will overhaul the lad, and if I find him 
 stanch he may turn in with Bell, and welcome." 
 
 This was uttered in perfect simplicity, and with no in- 
 tention of giving offence, partaking partly of the nature 
 of a soliloquy ; so the general, greatly encouraged, was 
 about to push the point, when a gun was fired from their 
 own ship. 
 
 " There's some of them lubberly transports won't mind 
 our signals ; they have had these soldiers so long on board, 
 they get as clumsy as the red-coats themselves," muttered 
 the admiral, hastening on deck to enforce his commands. 
 
 A shot or two, sent significantly in the direction of the 
 wanderers, but so as not to hit them, restored order ; and 
 within an hour forty line-of-battle ships and a hundred 
 transports were disposed in the best manner for conven- 
 ience and safety. 
 
 On their presentation to their sovereign, both veterans 
 were embellished with the ribbon of the Bath ; and as their 
 exploits filled the mouths of the newsmongers, and the 
 columns of the public prints of the day, the new knights 
 began to think more seriously of building a monument to 
 their victories, in a union between their children. The 
 admiral, however, determined to do nothing with his eyes 
 shut, and he demanded a scrutiny. 
 
 " Where is the boy who is to be a duke ? " exclaimed he, 
 one day, when his friend had introduced the point with a 
 view to a final arrangement. " Bell has good blood in her 
 veins is a tight-built little vessel clean heel'd and trim, 
 and would make as good a duchess as the best of them ; 
 so, Denbigh, I will begin by taking a survey of the 
 senior." 
 
 To this the general had no objection, as he well knew 
 that Francis would be wide of pleasing the tastes of an 
 open-hearted, simple man, like the sailor. They met ac- 
 cordingly for what the general facetiously called the re- 
 view, and what the admiral innocently termed his survey, 
 at the house of the former, when the young gentlemen 
 were submitted to his inspection. 
 
 Francis Denbigh was about four and twenty, of a feeble 
 body, and with a face marked with the small-pox, to ap- 
 proaching deformity ; his eye was brilliant and piercing, 
 but unsettled, and at times wild his manner awkward, 
 constrained, and timid. There would be seen, it is true, 
 an intelligence and animation, which occasionally lighted 
 his countenance into gleams of sunshine, that caused you 
 
PRECA UTION. 287 
 
 to overlook the lesser accompaniments of complexion and 
 features in the expression ; but they were transient, and 
 inevitably vanished whenever his father spoke or in any 
 manner mingled in his pursuits. 
 
 An observer close as Mrs. Wilson, would have said that 
 the feelings of the father and son were not such as ought 
 to exist between parent and child. 
 
 But the admiral, who regarded model and rigging a 
 good deal, satisfied himself with muttering, as he turned 
 his eyes on the junior 
 
 " He may do for a duke but I would not have him for 
 a cockswain." 
 
 George was a year younger than Francis ; in form, stat- 
 ure, and personal grace, the counterpart of his father ; his 
 eye was less keen but more attractive than that of his 
 brother ; his air open, polished, and manly. 
 
 "Ah!" thought the sailor, as he ended a satisfactory 
 survey of the youth, "what a thousand pities Denbigh did 
 not send him to sea ! " 
 
 The thing was soon settled, and George was to be the happy 
 man. Sir Peter concluded to dine with his friend, in order 
 to settle preliminaries over the bottle by themselves ; the 
 young men and their mother being engaged to their uncle 
 the duke. 
 
 "Well, Denbigh," cried the admiral, as the last servant 
 withdrew, " when do you mean to have the young couple 
 spliced ?" 
 
 " Why," replied the wary soldier, who knew he could 
 not calculate on obedierrce to his mandate with as great a 
 certainty as his friend " the better way is to bring the 
 young people together, in order that they may become ac- 
 quainted, you know." 
 
 "Acquainted together" cried his companion, in a 
 little surprise, "what better way is there to bring them to- 
 gether, than to have them up before a priest, or to make 
 them acquainted by letting them swing in the same ham- 
 mock ? " 
 
 "It might answer the end, indeed," said the general, 
 with a smile, " but somehow or other, it is always the 
 best method to bring young folks together, to let them 
 have their own way in the affair for a time." 
 
 "Own way!" rejoined Sir Peter, bluntly, "did you 
 ever find it answer to let a woman have her own way, Sir 
 Frederick ? " 
 
 " Not common women certainly, my good friend," said 
 
288 PR EC A UTION". 
 
 the general, " but such a girl as my intended daughter is 
 an exception." 
 
 " I don't know that," cried the sailor ; " Bell is a good 
 girl, but she has her quirks and whims like all the sex." 
 
 "You have had no trouble with her as yet, I believe, 
 Howell," said Sir Frederick, cavalierly, throwing an in 1 
 quiring glance on his friend at the same time. 
 
 " No, not yet nor do I think she will ever dare to mu- 
 tiny ; but there has been one wishing to take her in tow 
 already since we got in." 
 
 "How!" said the other in alarm, "who what is he ? 
 Some officer in the navy, I suppose." 
 
 " No, he was a kind of chaplain, one Parson Ives, a good 
 sort of a youth enough, and a prodigious favorite with my 
 sister, Lady Hawker." 
 
 "Well, what did you answer, Peter?" said his com- 
 panion, in increasing uneasiness ; " did you put him off ? " 
 
 " Off ! to be sure I did do you think I wanted a bar- 
 ber's clerk for a son-in-law ? No, no, Denbigh ; a soldier 
 is bad enough, without having a preacher." 
 
 The general compressed his lips at this direct attack on 
 a profession that he thought the most honorable of any in 
 the world, in some resentment ; but remembering the 
 eighty thousand pounds, and accustomed to the ways of 
 the other, he curbed his temper, and inquired 
 
 " But Miss Howell your daughter how did she stand 
 affected to this priest ? " 
 
 " How why how ? why, I never asked her." 
 
 " Never asked her ? " 
 
 " No, never asked her : she is my daughter, you know, 
 and bound to obey my orders, and I did not choose she 
 should marry a parson. But, once for all, when is the wed- 
 ding to take place ? " 
 
 General Denbigh had indulged his younger son too 
 blindly and too fondly to expect that implicit obedience 
 the admiral calculated to a certainty on, and with every 
 prospect of not being disappointed, from his daughter. 
 Isabel Howell was pretty, mild, and timid, and unused to 
 oppose any of her father's commands ; but George Den- 
 bigh was haughty, positive, and self-willed, and unless the 
 affair could be so managed as to make him a willing assist- 
 ant in the courtship, his father knew it might be aban- 
 doned at once. He thought his son might be led, but not 
 driven ; and, relying on his own powers for managing, the 
 general saw his only safety in executing the scheme was 
 
PRECA UTION. 289 
 
 in postponing his advances for a regular siege to the lady's 
 heart. 
 
 Sir Peter chafed and swore at this circumlocution. The 
 thing could be done as well in a week as in a year ; and 
 the veterans, who, for a miracle, had agreed in their rival 
 stations, and in doubtful moments of success, were near 
 splitting on the point of marrying a girl of nineteen. 
 
 As Sir Peter both loved his friend, and had taken a pro- 
 digious fancy to the youth, he, however, was fain to sub- 
 mit to a short probation. 
 
 "You are always for going a roundabout way to do 
 a thing," said the admiral, as he yielded the point. " Now 
 when you took that battery, had you gone up in front as I 
 advised you, you would have taken it in ten minutes in- 
 stead of five hours." 
 
 " Yes," said the other, with a friendly shake of the hand 
 at parting, " and lost fifty men in place'of one by the step." 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE Honorable General Denbigh was the youngest of 
 three sons. His seniors, Francis and George, were yet 
 bachelors. The death of a cousin had made Francis a 
 duke while yet a child, and both he and his favorite broth- 
 er, George, had decided on lives of inactivity and slug- 
 gishness. 
 
 "When I die, brother," the oldest would say, "you will 
 succeed me, and Frederick can provide heirs for the name 
 hereafter." 
 
 This arrangement had been closely adhered to, and the 
 two elder brothers reached the ages of fifty-five and fifty- 
 six without altering their condition. In the meantime 
 Frederick married a young woman of rank and fortune ; 
 the fruits of their union being the two young candidates 
 for the hand of Isabel Howell. 
 
 Francis Denbigh, the eldest son of the general, was nat- 
 urally diffident, and in addition it was his misfortune to be 
 the reverse of captivating in external appearance. The 
 small-pox sealed his doom ; ignorance, and the violence of 
 the attack, left him indelibly impressed with the ravages 
 of that dreadful disorder. On the other hand his brother 
 escaped without any vestiges of the complaint ; and his 
 spotless skin and fine open countenance met the gaze of 
 
 19 
 
290 P RECAST I OX. 
 
 his mother, after the recovery of the two, in striking con- 
 trast to the deformed lineaments of his elder . brother. 
 Such an occurrence is sure to excite one of two feelings 
 in the breast of every beholder pity or disgust ; and, un- 
 happily for Francis, maternal tenderness in his case was 
 unable to counteract the latter sensation. George became 
 a favorite and Francis a neutral. The effect was easy to 
 be seen, and it was rapid as it was indelible. 
 
 The feelings of Francis were sensitive to an extreme. 
 He had more quickness, more sensibility, more real talent 
 than George ; which enabled him to perceive, and caused 
 him to feel more acutely, the partiality of his mother. 
 
 As yet, the engagements and duties of the general had 
 kept his children and their improvements out of his sight ; 
 but at the ages of eleven and twelve, the feelings of a father 
 began to take pride in the possession of his sons. 
 
 On his return from a foreign station, after an absence of 
 two years, his children were ordered from school to meet 
 him. Francis had improved in stature, but not in beauty; 
 George had flourished in both. 
 
 The natural diffidence of the former was increased, by 
 perceiving that he was no favorite, and the effect began to 
 show itself on manners at no time engaging. He met his 
 father with doubt, and he saw with anguish, that the em- 
 brace received by his brother much exceeded in warmth 
 that which had been bestowed on himself. 
 
 " Lady Margaret," said the general to his wife, as he fol- 
 lowed the boys as they retired from the dinner table, with 
 his eyes, " it is a thousand pities George had not been the 
 elder. He would have graced a dukedom or a throne. 
 Frank is only fit for a parson." 
 
 This ill-judged speech was uttered sufficiently loud to be 
 overheard by both the sons : on the younger, it made a 
 pleasurable sensation for the moment. His father his 
 dear father, had thought him fit to be a king ; and his 
 father must be a judge, whispered his native vanity ; but 
 all this time the connection between the speech and his 
 brother's rights did not present themselves to his mind. 
 George loved his brother too well, too sincerely, Jo have 
 injured him even in thought ; and so far as Francis was 
 concerned, his vanity was as blameless as it was natural. 
 
 The effect produced on the mind of Francis was different 
 both in substance and in degree. It mortified his pride, 
 alarmed his delicacy, and wounded his already morbid sen- 
 sibility to such an extent, as to make him entertain the 
 
PRECA UTION. 291 
 
 romantic notion of withdrawing from the world, and of 
 yielding a birthright to one so every way more deserving 
 of it than himself. 
 
 From this period might be dated an opinion of Francis's, 
 which never afterward left him ; he fancied he was doing 
 injustice to another, and that other, a brother whom he 
 ardently loved, by continuing to exist. Had he met with 
 fondness in his parents, or sociability in his playfellows, 
 these fancies would have left him as he grew into life. But 
 the affections of his parents were settled on his more prom- 
 ising brother ; and his manners daily increasing in their 
 repulsive traits, drove his companions to the society of 
 others, more agreeable to their own buoyancy and joy. 
 
 Had Francis Denbigh, at this age, met with a guardian 
 clear-sighted enough to fathom his real character, and 
 competent to direct his onward course, he would yet have 
 become an ornament to his name and country, and a use- 
 ful member of society. But no such guide existed. His 
 natural guardians, in his particular case, were his worst 
 enemies ; and the boys left school for college four years 
 afterward, each advanced in his respective properties of 
 attraction and repulsion. 
 
 Irreligion is hardly a worse evil in a family than favor- 
 itism. When once allowed to exist, in the breast of the 
 parent, though hid apparently from all other eyes, its sad 
 consequences begin to show themselves. Effects are pro- 
 duced, and we look in vain for the cause. The awakened 
 sympathies of reciprocal caresses and fondness are mis- 
 taken for uncommon feelings, and the forbidding aspect of 
 deadened affections is miscalled native sensibility. 
 
 In this manner the evil increases itself, until manners 
 are formed, and characters created, that must descend with 
 their possessor to the tomb. 
 
 In the peculiar formation of the mind of Francis Den- 
 bigh, the evil was doubly injurious. His feelings required 
 sympathy and softness, and they met only with coldness 
 and disgust. George alone was an exception to the rule. 
 He did love his brother ; but even his gayety and spirits 
 finally tired of the dull uniformity of the diseased habits of 
 his senior. 
 
 The only refuge Francis found in his solitude, amid the 
 hundreds of the university, was in his muse and in the 
 powers of melody. The voice of his family has been fre- 
 quently mentioned in these pages ; and if, as Lady Laura 
 has intimated, there had ever been a siren in the r^ce. it 
 
292 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 was a male one. He wrote prettily, and would sing these 
 efforts of his muse to music of his own, drawing crowds 
 around his windows, in the stillness of the night, to listen 
 to sounds as melodious as they were mournful. His poet- 
 ical efforts partook of the distinctive character of the man, 
 being melancholy, wild, and sometimes pious. 
 
 George was always among the most admiring of his 
 brother's auditors, and would feel a yearning of his heart 
 toward him, at such moments, that was painful. But 
 George was too young and too heedless to supply the place 
 of a monitor, or to draw his thoughts into a more salutary 
 train. This was the duty of his parents, and should have 
 been their task. But the world, his rising honors, and his 
 professional engagements, occupied the time of the father ; 
 and fashion, parties, and pleasure killed the time of his 
 mother. When they did think of their children, it was of 
 George ; the painful image of Francis being seldom ad- 
 mitted to disturb their serenity. 
 
 George Denbigh was open-hearted, without suspicion, 
 and a favorite. The first quality taxed his generosity, the 
 second subjected him to fraud, and the third supplied him 
 with the means. But these means sometimes failed. The 
 fortune of the general, though handsome, was not more 
 than competent to support his style of living. He expect- 
 ed to be a duke himself one day, and was anxious to main- 
 tain an appearance now that would not disgrace his future 
 elevation. A system of strict but liberal economy had 
 been adopted in the case of his sons. They had, for the 
 sake of appearances, a stated and equal allowance. 
 
 The duke had offered to educate the heir himself, and 
 under his own eye. But to this Lady Margaret had found 
 some ingenious excuse, and one that seemed to herself and 
 the world honorable to her natural feeling ; but had the 
 offer been made to George, these reasons would have 
 vanished in the desire to advance his interests, or to gratify 
 his propensities. Such decisions are by no means uncom- 
 mon ; parents having once decided on the merits and 
 abilities of their children, frequently decline the interfer- 
 ence of third persons, since the improvement of their de- 
 nounced offspring might bring their own judgment into 
 question, if it did not convey an indirect censure on their 
 justice. 
 
 The heedlessness of George brought his purse to a state 
 of emptiness. His last guinea was gone, and two months 
 were wanting to the end of the quarter., George had 
 
PRECA UTION. 293 
 
 played and been cheated. He had ventured to apply to 
 his mother for small sums, when his dress or some trifling 
 indulgence required an advance : and always with success. 
 But here were sixty guineas gone at a blow, and pride, 
 candor, forbade his concealing the manner of his loss, if he 
 made the application. This was dreadful ; his own con- 
 science reproached him, and he had so often witnessed the 
 violence of his mother's resentments against Francis, for 
 faults which appeared to him very trivial, not to stand in 
 the utmost dread of her more just displeasure in the pres- 
 ent case. 
 
 Entering the apartment of his brother, in this disturbed 
 condition, George threw himself into a chair, and with his 
 face concealed between his hands, sat brooding over his 
 forlorn situation. 
 
 " George ! " said his brother, soothingly, " you are in 
 distress ; can I relieve you in any way ? " 
 
 "Oh no no no Frank; it is entirely out of your 
 power." 
 
 " Perhaps not, my dear brother," continued the other, 
 endeavoring to draw his hand into his own. 
 
 " Entirely! entirely!" said George. Then springing 
 up in despair, he exclaimed, " But I must live I cannot 
 die." 
 
 " Live ! die ! " cried Francis, recoiling in horror. "What 
 do you mean by such language ? Tell me, George, am I 
 not your brother ? Your only brother and best friend ? " 
 
 Francis felt he had no friend if George was not that 
 friend, and his face grew pale while the tears flowed rap- 
 idly down his cheeks. 
 
 George could not resist such an appeal. He caught the 
 hand of his brother and made him acquainted with his 
 losses and his wants. 
 
 Francis mused some little time over his narration, ere 
 he broke silence. 
 
 " It was all you had ? " 
 
 "The last shilling," cried George, beating his head with 
 his hand. 
 
 " How much will you require to make out the quarter ?" 
 
 " Oh I must have at least fifty guineas, or how can I live 
 at all ? " 
 
 The ideas of life in George were connected a good deal 
 with the manner it was to be enjoyed. His brother ap- 
 peared struggling with himself, and then turning to the 
 other, continued 
 
294 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 " But surely, under present circumstances, you could 
 make less do." 
 
 " Less, never hardly that " interrupted George, vehe- 
 mently. " If Lady Margaret did not inclose me a note 
 now and then, how could we get along at all ? don't you 
 find it so yourself, brother ? " 
 
 "I don't know," said Francis, turning pale 
 
 " Don't know," cried George, catching a view of his al- 
 tered countenance "you get the money, though ? " 
 
 " I do not remember it," said the other, sighing heavily. 
 
 " Francis," cried George, comprehending the truth, 
 "you shall share every shilling I receive in future you 
 shall indeed you shall." 
 
 "Well, then," rejoined Francis with a smile, "it is a 
 bargain ; and you will receive from me a supply in your 
 necessities." 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, Francis withdrew into 
 an inner apartment, and brought out the required sum for 
 his brother's subsistence for two months. George remon- 
 strated, but Francis was positive ; he had been saving, and 
 his stock was ample for his simple habits without it. 
 
 " Besides, you forget we are partners, and in the end I 
 shall be a gainer." 
 
 George yielded to his wants and his brother's entreaties, 
 and gave him great credit for the disinterestedness of the 
 act. Several weeks past without any further allusion to 
 this disagreeable subject, which had at least the favorable 
 result of making George more guarded and a better 
 student. 
 
 The brothers, from this period, advanced gradually in 
 those distinctive qualities which were to mark the future 
 men ; George daily improving in grace and attraction, 
 Francis, in an equal ratio, receding from those very attain- 
 ments, which it was his too great desire to possess. In the 
 education of his sons, General Denbigh had preserved the 
 appearance of impartiality ; his allowance to each was the 
 same ; they were at the same college, they had been at 
 the same school ; and if Frank did not improve as much 
 as his younger brother, it was unquestionably his own 
 obstinacy and stupidity, and surely not want of oppor- 
 tunity or favor. 
 
 Such, then, were the artificial .and accidental causes, 
 which kept a noble, a proud, an acute but a diseased 
 mind, in acquirements much below another every way its 
 inferior, excepting in the happy circumstance of wanting 
 
PRECA UTION. 295 
 
 those very excellences, the excess and indiscreet manage- 
 ment of which proved the ruin instead of the blessing of 
 their possessor. 
 
 The duke would occasionally rouse himself from his 
 lethargy, and complain to the father, that the heir of his, 
 honors was far inferior to his younger brother in acquire- 
 ments, and remonstrate against the course which produced 
 such an unfortunate inequality. On these occasions a 
 superficial statement of his system from the general met 
 the objection ; they cost the same money, and he was sure 
 he not only wished but did everything an indulgent parent 
 could, to render Francis worthy of his future honors. An- 
 other evil of the admission of feelings of partiality, in the 
 favor of one child, to the prejudice of another, is that 
 the malady is contagious as well as lasting ; it exists with. 
 out our own knowledge, and it seldom fails to affect those 
 around us. The uncle soon learnt to distinguish George 
 as the hope of the family, yet Francis must be the heir of 
 its honors, and consequently of its wealth. 
 
 The duke and his brother were not much addicted to 
 action, hardly to reflection ; but if anything could rouse 
 them to either, it was the reputation of the house of Den- 
 bigh. Their ideas of reputation, it is true, were of their 
 own forming. 
 
 The hour at length drew near when George expected a 
 supply from the ill-judged generosity of his mother ; it 
 came, and with a heart beating with pleasure, the youth 
 flew to the room of Francis with a determination to force 
 the whole of his twenty, pounds on his acceptance. On 
 throwing open his door, he saw his brother evidently striv- 
 ing to conceal something behind his books. It was at the 
 hour of breakfast, and George had intended for a novelty 
 to share his brother's morning repast. They always met 
 at dinner, but the other meals were made in their own 
 rooms. George looked in vain for the usual equipage of 
 the table ; suspicion flashed upon him ; he threw aside the 
 books, and a crust of bread and a glass of water met his 
 eye ; the truth now flashed upon him in all its force. 
 
 " Francis, my brother, to what has my extravagance re- 
 duced you ! " exclaimed the contrite George with a heart 
 nearly ready to burst. Francis endeavored to explain, but a 
 sacred regard to the truth held him tongue-tied, until drop- 
 ping his head on the" shoulder of George, he sobbed out 
 
 " It is a trifle : nothing to what I would do for you, my 
 brother." 
 
96 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 George felt all the horrors of remorse, and was much 
 too generous to conceal his error any longer ; he wrote a 
 circumstantial account of the whole transaction to Lady 
 Margaret. 
 
 Francis for a few days was a new being. He had acted 
 nobly, his conscience approved of his motives, and of his 
 delicate concealment of them ; he in fact began to think 
 there were in himself the seeds of usefulness, as his brother, 
 who from this moment began to understand his character 
 better, attached himself more closely to him. 
 
 The eye of Francis met that of George with the look of 
 acknowledged affection, his mind became less moody, and 
 his face was sometimes embellished with a smile. 
 
 The reply of their mother to the communication of 
 George threw a damp on the revived hopes of the senior, 
 and drove him back into himself with tenfold humility. 
 
 " I am shocked, my child, to find that you have lowered 
 yourself, and forgot the family you belong to, so much as 
 to frequent those gambling houses, which ought not to be 
 suffered in the neighborhood of the universities : when at 
 a proper age and in proper company, your occasional in- 
 dulgence at cards I could not object to, as both your father 
 and myself sometimes resort to it as an amusement, but 
 never in low company. The consequence of mingling in 
 such society is, that you were cheated, and such will al- 
 ways be your lot unless you confine yourself to associates 
 more becoming your rank and illustrious name. 
 
 " As to Francis, I see every reason to condemn the course 
 he has taken. Being the senior by a year, he should have 
 taken the means to prevent your falling into such company ; 
 and he should have acquainted me immediately with your 
 loss, in place of wounding your pride by subjecting you to 
 the mortification of receiving a pecuniary obligation from 
 one so little older than yourself, and exposing his own 
 health by a diet on bread and water, as you wrote me, for 
 a whole month. Both the general and myself are seriously 
 displeased with him, and think of separating you, as you 
 thus connive at each other's follies." 
 
 George was too indignant to conceal this letter, and the 
 reflections of Francis were dreadful. 
 
 For a short time he actually meditated suicide, as the 
 only method of removing himself from before the advance- 
 ment of George. Had not George been more attentive 
 and affectionate than formerly, the awful expedient might 
 have been resorted to. 
 
PRECAUTION. 29* 
 
 From college the young men went, one into the army 
 and the other to the mansion of his uncle. George became 
 an elegant, gay, open-hearted, admired captain in the 
 guards ; arid Francis stalked through the halls of his an- 
 cestors, their acknowledged future lord, but a misanthrope; 
 hateful to himself and disagreeable to all around him. 
 
 This picture may be highly wrought, but the effects, in 
 the case of Francis, were increased by the peculiar tone ol 
 his diseased state of mind. The indulgence of favoritism, 
 nevertheless, always brings its own sad consequences, in a 
 greater or less degree, while it seldom fails to give sorrow 
 and penitence to the bosom of the parents. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 No little art and management had been necessary to 
 make the admiral auxiliary to the indirect plan proposed 
 by his friend to bring George and Isabel together. This, 
 however, effected, the general turned his whole strategy to 
 the impression to be made on the heart of the young gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 Sir Frederick Denbigh had the same idea of the virtue 
 of management as the Dowager Lady Chatterton, but he 
 understood human nature better. Like a prudent officer, 
 his attacks were all masked ; and, like a great officer, they 
 seldom failed of success. 
 
 The young couple were thrown in each other's way, and 
 as Isabel was extremely attractive, somewhat the opposite 
 to himself in ardor of temperament and vivacity, modest, 
 and sensible, it cannot be expected that the association was 
 maintained by the youth with perfect impunity. Within a 
 couple of months he fancied himself desperately in love 
 with Isabel Howell ; and in truth he had some reason for 
 the supposition. 
 
 The general watched every movement of his son with a 
 wary and vigilant eye occasionally adding fuel to the 
 flame by drawing his attention to projects of matrimony in 
 other quarters, until George began to think he was soon to 
 undergo a trial of his constancy, and in consequence he 
 armed himself with a double portion of admiration for his 
 Isabel, in order to enable himself to endure the persecu- 
 tion ; while the admiral several times endangered the suc- 
 cess of the whole enterprise by volunteer contributions to 
 
298 PRECA UTION-. 
 
 the hopes of the young man, which only escaped producing 
 an opposite effect to that which was intended, by being mis- 
 taken for the overflowings of good nature and friendship. 
 
 After suffering his son to get, as he thought, sufficiently 
 entangled in the snares of Cupid, Sir Frederick determined 
 to fire a volley from one of his masked batteries, which he 
 rightly judged would bring on a general engagement. They 
 were sitting at the table after dinner alone, when the gen- 
 eral took the advantage of the name of Miss Howell being 
 accidentally mentioned, to say 
 
 " By the by, George, my friend the admiral said some- 
 thing yesterday on the subject of your being so much with 
 his daughter. I wish you to be cautious, and not to give 
 the old sailor offence in any way, for he is my particular 
 friend." 
 
 . " He need be under no violent apprehensions," cried 
 George, coloring highly with shame and pride ; " I am 
 sure a Denbigh is no unworthy match for a daughter of 
 Sir Peter Howell." 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure not, boy ; we are as old a house as 
 there is in the kingdom, and as noble, too ; but the admi- 
 ral has queer notions, and perhaps he has some cub of a 
 sailor in his eye for a son-in-law. Be prudent, my boy, be 
 prudent ; that is all I ask of you." 
 
 The general, satisfied with the effect he had produced, 
 carelessly arose from his seat and joined Lady Margaret in 
 her drawing-room. 
 
 George remained for several minutes musing on his 
 father's singular request, as well as the admiral's caution, 
 when he sprang from his seat, caught up his hat and sword, 
 and in ten minutes rang at Sir Peter's door in Grosvenor 
 Square. He was admitted, and ascending to the drawing- 
 room, he met the admiral on his way out. Nothing was 
 further from the thoughts of the veteran than a finesse like 
 the general's ; and, delighted to see George on the battle- 
 ground, he pointed significantly over his shoulder toward 
 the door of the room Isabel was in, and exclaimed, with a 
 good-natured smile, 
 
 " There she is, my hearty ; lay her aside, and hang me if 
 she don't strike. I say, George, faint heart never won fair 
 lady ; remember that, my boy ; no, nor a French ship." 
 
 George would have been at some loss to have reconciled 
 this speech to his father's caution, if time had been allowed 
 him to think at all ; but the door being open he entered, 
 and found Isabel endeavoring to hide her 
 
PR EC A UTION. 299 
 
 The admiral, dissatisfied from the beginning with the 
 tardy method of despatching things, thought he might be 
 of use in breaking the ice for George, by trumpeting his 
 praises on divers occasions to his daughter. Under all cir- 
 cumstances, he thought she might be learning to love the 
 man, as he was to be her husband ; and speeches like the 
 following had been frequent of late from the parent to the 
 child : 
 
 " There's that youngster, George Denbigh ; now, Bell, 
 is he not a fine-looking lad ? Then I know he is brave. 
 His father before him was good stuff and a true English- 
 man. What a proper husband he would make for a young 
 woman, he loves his king and country so ; none of your 
 new-fangled notions about religion and government, but a 
 sober, religious churchman ; that is, as much so, girl, as 
 you can expect in the guards. No Methodist, to be sure ; 
 it's a great pity he wasn't sent to sea, don't you think so ? 
 But cheer up, girl, one of these days he may be taking a 
 liking to you yet." 
 
 Isabel, whose fears taught her the meaning of these elo- 
 quent praises of Captain Denbigh, listened to these ha- 
 rangues in silence, and often meditated on their import by 
 herself in tears. 
 
 George approached the sofa on which the lady was seated 
 before she had time to conceal the traces of her sorrow, 
 and in a voice softened by emotion, he took her hand 
 gently as he said 
 
 "What can have occasioned this distress to Miss Howell ? 
 If anything in my power to remove, or which a life devoted 
 to her service can mitigate, she has only to command me 
 to find a cheerful obedience." 
 
 " The trifling causes of sorrow in a young woman," re- 
 plied Isabel, endeavoring to smile, "will hardly require 
 such serious services to remove them." 
 
 But the lady was extremely interesting at the moment. 
 George was goaded by his father's caution, and urged on 
 by his own feelings, with great sincerity, and certainly 
 much eloquence, he therefore proffered his love and hand 
 to the acceptance of his mistress. 
 
 Isabel heard him in painful silence. She respected him 
 and dreaded his power over her father ; but, unwilling to 
 abandon hopes to which she yet clung as to her spring of 
 existence, with a violent effort she determined to throw 
 herself on the generosity of her lover. 
 
 During her father's late absence, Isabel had, as usual 
 
300 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 since the death of her mother, been left with his sister, and 
 had formed an attachment for a young clergyman, a young- 
 er son of a baronet, and the present Dr. Ives. The inclina- 
 tion had been mutual ; and as Lady Hawker knew her 
 brother to be perfectly indifferent to money, she could see 
 no possible objection to its indulgence. 
 
 On his return, Ives made his proposals, as related ; and 
 although warmly backed by the recommendation of the 
 aunt, he was refused. Out of delicacy, the wishes of Isa- 
 bel had not been mentioned by her clerical lover, and the 
 admiral supposed he had only complied with his agreement 
 with the general, without in any manner affecting the hap- 
 piness of his daughter by his answer. But the feelings 
 which prompted the request still remained in full vigor in 
 the lovers ; and Isabel now, with many blushes and some 
 hesitation of utterance, made George fully acquainted with 
 the state of her heart, giving him at the same time to 
 understand that he was the only obstacle to her happi- 
 ness. 
 
 It cannot be supposed that George heard her without 
 pain or mortification. The struggle with self-love was a 
 severe one, but his better feelings prevailed, and he assured 
 the anxious Isabel that from his importunities she had 
 nothing to apprehend in future. The grateful girl over- 
 whelmed him with thanks, and George had to fly ere he 
 repented of his own generosity. 
 
 Miss Howell intimated, in the course of her narrative, 
 that a better understanding existed between their parents 
 than the caution of the general had discovered to his un- 
 suspecting child, and George was determined to know the 
 worst at once. 
 
 At supper he mentioned, as if in remembrance of his 
 father's injunction, that he had been to take his leave of 
 Miss Howell, since he found his visits gave uneasiness to 
 her friends. "On the whole," he added, endeavoring to 
 yawn carelessly, "I believe I shall visit there no more." 
 
 "Nay, nay," returned Sir Frederick, a little displeased 
 at his son's obedience, " I meant no such thing. Neither 
 the admiral nor myself has the least objection to your visit- 
 ing in moderation ; indeed, you may marry the girl with 
 all our hearts, if you can agree." 
 
 " But we can't agree, I take it," said George, looking up 
 at the wall. 
 
 " Why not ? what hinders ?" cried his father, unguard' 
 edly. 
 
PRECA UTION. 301 
 
 "Only only I don't like her," said the son, tossing off 
 a glass of wine, which nearly strangled him. 
 
 "You don't!" cried the general with great warmth, 
 thrown entirely off his guard by this unexpected declara- 
 tion ; u and may I presume to ask the reason why you do 
 not like Miss Howell, sir?" 
 
 " Oh, you know one never pretends to give a reason for 
 this sort of feeling, my dear sir." 
 
 "Then," cried his father, with increasing heat, tl you 
 must allow me to say, my dear sir, that the sooner you get 
 rid of these sort of feelings the better. I choose you shall 
 not only like, but love Miss Howell ; and this I have prom- 
 ised her father." 
 
 "I thought that the admiral was displeased with my 
 coming to his house so much or did I not understand you 
 this morning ? " 
 
 " I know nothing of his displeasure, and care less. He 
 has agreed that Isabel shall be your wife, and I have passed 
 my word to the engagement ; and if, sir, you wish to be 
 considered as my son, you will prepare to comply." 
 
 George was expecting to discover some management on 
 the part of his father, but by no means so settled an ar- 
 rangement, and his anger was in proportion to the decep- 
 tion. 
 
 To annoy Isabel any further was out of the question ; to 
 betray her, base ; and the next morning he sought an au- 
 dience with the duke. To him he mentioned his wish for 
 actual service, but hinted that the maternal fondness of 
 Lady Margaret was averse to his seeking it. This was 
 true, and George now pressed his uncle to assist him in 
 effecting an exchange. 
 
 The boroughs of the Duke of Derwent were represented 
 by royal members of parliament, his two brothers being 
 contemporary with Mr. Benfield in that honor ; and a re- 
 quest from a man who sent six members to the Commons., 
 besides having a seat in the Lords in his own person, must 
 be listened to. 
 
 Within the week George ceased to be a captain in the 
 guards, and became lieutenant-colonel of a regiment under 
 orders for America. 
 
 Sir Frederick soon became sensible of the error his 
 warmth had led him into, and endeavored, by soothing and 
 indulgence, to gain the ground he had so unguardedly 
 lost. But terrible was his anger, and bitter his denuncia- 
 tions, when his son acquainted him with his approaching 
 
302 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 embarkation with his new regiment for America. 
 quarrelled ; and as the favorite child had never, until now, 
 been thwarted or spoken harshly to, they parted in mutual 
 disgust. With his mother George was more tender ; and 
 as Lady Margaret never thought the match such as the 
 descendant of two lines of dukes was entitled to form, she 
 almost pardoned the offence in the cause. 
 
 " What's this here ?" cried Sir Peter Howell, as he ran 
 over a morning paper at the breakfast table : " Captain 
 Denbigh, late of the guards, has been promoted to the 
 
 lieutenant-colonelcy of the Foot, and sails to-morrow 
 
 to join that regiment, now on its way to America." 
 
 " It's a lie, Bell ! it's all a lie ! not but what he ought 
 to be there, too, serving his king and country ; but he 
 never would serve you so." 
 
 " Me ?" said Isabel, with a heart throbbing with the con- 
 tending feelings of admiration for George's generosity, 
 and delight at her own deliverance. " What have I to do 
 with the movements of Mr. Denbigh? " 
 
 " What !" cried her father in astonishment; "a'n't you 
 to be his wife, a'n't it all agreed upon that is, between 
 Sir Frederick and me, which is the same thing, you 
 know " 
 
 Here he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of 
 the general himself, who had just learnt the departure of 
 his son, and hastened, with the double purpose of break- 
 ing the intelligence to his friend, and of making his own 
 peace. 
 
 " See here, Denbigh," exclaimed the admiral, pointing 
 to the paragraph, " what do you say to that ? " 
 
 "Too true too true, my dear friend," replied the gen- 
 eral, shaking his head mournfully. 
 
 " Hark ye, Sir Frederick Denbigh," cried the admiral 
 fiercely ; " did you not say that your son George was to 
 marry my daughter ? " 
 
 " I certainly did, Sir Peter, and am sorry to say that, in 
 defiance of my entreaties and commands, he has deserted 
 his home, and, in consequence, I have discarded him for 
 ever." 
 
 " Now, Denbigh," said the admiral, a good deal mollified 
 by this declaration, " have I not always told you, that in 
 the army you know nothing of discipline ? Why, sir, if he 
 was a son of mine, he should marry blindfolded, if I chose 
 to order it. I wish, now, Bell had an offer, and dared to 
 refuse it" 
 
PRECA UTION. 
 
 33 
 
 " There is the barber's clerk, you know," said the gen- 
 eral, a good deal irritated by the contemptuous manner of 
 his friend. 
 
 "And what of that, Sir Frederick?" said the sailor 
 sternly ; " if I choose her to marry a quill-driver, she shall 
 comply." 
 
 " Ah ! my good friend," said the general, willing to drop 
 the disagreeable subject, "I am afraid we shall both find 
 it more difficult to control the affections of our children 
 than we at first imagined." 
 
 " You do, General Denbigh ? " said the admiral, with a 
 curl of contempt on his lip ; and ringiv.^ the bell violently, 
 he bid the servant send his young 1 : ly to him. 
 
 On the appearance of Isabel, her father inquired with 
 an air of settled meaning where young Mr. Ives resided. 
 It was only in the next street, and a messenger was sent to 
 him, with Sir Peter Howell's compliments, and a request 
 to see him without a moment's delay. 
 
 "We'll see, we'll see, my old friend, who keeps the best 
 discipline," muttered the admiral, as he paced up and 
 down the room, in eager expectation of the return of his 
 messenger. 
 
 The wondering general gazed on his friend, to ascertain 
 if he was out of his senses. He knew he was quick to de- 
 cide, and excessively obstinate, but he did not think him 
 so crazy as to throw away his daughter in a fit of spleen. 
 It never occurred to Sir Frederick, however, that the en- 
 gagement with himself was an act of equal injustice and 
 folly, because it was done with more form and delibera- 
 tion, which, to the eye of sober reason, would rather make 
 the matter worse. Isabel sat in trembling suspense for the 
 issue of the scene, and Ives in a few minutes made his ap- 
 pearance in no little alarm. 
 
 On entering, the admiral addressed him abruptly, by 
 inquiring if he still wished to marry that girl, pointing to 
 his daughter. The reply was an eager affirmative. Sir 
 Peter beckoned to Isabel, who approached, covered with 
 blushes ; and her father having placed her hand in that of 
 her lover, with an air of great solemnity he gave them his 
 blessing. The young people withdrew to another room at 
 Sir Peter's request, when he turned to his friend, delighted 
 with his own decision and authority, and exclaimed, 
 
 "There, Fred Denbigh, that is what I call being minded." 
 
 The general had penetration enough to see that the re- 
 sult was agreeable to both the young people, a thing he 
 
304 PRECAUTION. 
 
 had long apprehended ; and being glad to get rid of the 
 affair in any way that did not involve him in a quarrel 
 with his old comrade, he gravely congratulated the admi- 
 ral on his good fortune and retired. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Sir Peter to himself, as he paced up and 
 down his room, " Denbigh is mortified enough, with his 
 joy, and felicity, and grandchildren. I never had any 
 opinion of their manner of discipline at all ; too much 
 bowing and scraping. I'm sorry, though, lie is a priest ; 
 not but what a priest may be as good a man as another, 
 but let him behave ever so well, he can only get to be a 
 bishop at the most. Heaven forbid lie should ever get to 
 be a Pope! After all, his boys may be admirals if they 
 behave themselves;" and he went to seek his daughter, 
 having in imagination manned her nursery with vice and 
 rear admirals in embryo by the half dozen. 
 
 Sir Peter Howell survived the marriage of his daughter 
 but eighteen months ; yet that was sufficient time to be- 
 come attached to his invaluable son-in-law. Mr. Ives 
 insensibly led the admiral, during his long indisposition, 
 to a more correct view of sacred things than he had been 
 wont to entertain ; and the old man breathed his last, bless- 
 ing both his children for their kindness, and with an humble 
 hope of future happiness. Some time before his death, Isa- 
 bel, whose conscience had always reproached her with the 
 deception practised on her father, and with the banishment 
 of George from his country and home, threw herself at the 
 feet of Sir Peter, and acknowledged her transgression. 
 
 The admiral heard her in astonishment, but not in anger. 
 His opinions of life had sensibly changed, and his great 
 cause of satisfaction with his new son removed all motives for 
 regret for anything but for the fate of poor George. With 
 the noble forbearance and tenderness of the young man to 
 his daughter the hardy veteran was sensibly touched ; and 
 his entreaties with Sir Frederick made his peace with a 
 father already longing for the return of his only hope. 
 
 The admiral left Colonel Denbigh his blessing, and his 
 favorite pistols, as a remembrance of his esteem ; but he 
 did not live to see the reunion with his family. 
 
 George had soon learnt, deprived of hope and in the 
 midst of novelty, to forget a passion which could no longer 
 be prosperous ; and two years from his departure returned 
 to England, glowing in health, and improved in person and 
 manners by a more extensive knowledge of the world and 
 mankind. 
 
PRECA UTION~. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 DURING the time occupied by the foregoing events, 
 Francis continued a gloomy inmate of his uncle's house. 
 The Duke and his brother George were too indolent and 
 inactive in their minds to pierce the cloud that mortifica- 
 tion and deadened affections had drawn around the real 
 character of their nephew ; and although he was tolerated 
 as the heir, he was but little loved as a man. 
 
 In losing his brother, Francis lost the only human being 
 with whom he possessed any sympathies in common ; and 
 he daily drew more and more into himself, in gloomy 
 meditation on his forlorn situation in the midst of wealth 
 and expected honors. The attentions he received were 
 paid to his rank, and Francis had penetration enough to 
 perceive it. His visits to his parents were visits of cere- 
 mony, and in time all parties came to look to their termi- 
 nation with pleasure as to the discontinuance of heartless 
 and forced civilities. 
 
 Affection, even in the young man, could not endure, re- 
 pulsed as his feelings were, forever ; and in the course of 
 three years, if his attachments were not alienated from his 
 parents, his ardor had become much abated. 
 
 It is a dreadful truth, that the bonds of natural affec- 
 tion can be broken by injustice and contumely ; and it is 
 yet more to be deplored, that when from such causes we 
 loosen the ties habit and education have drawn around us, 
 a reaction in our feelings commences ; we seldom cease to 
 love, but we begin to hate. Against such awful conse- 
 quences it is one of the most solemn duties of the parent 
 to provide in season ; and what surer safeguard is there,, 
 than to inculcate those feelings which teach the mind to 
 love God, and in so doing induce love to the whole human 
 family ? 
 
 Sir Frederick and Lady Margaret attended the church 
 regularly, repeated the responses with much decency, 
 toasted the Church next to the king, even appeared at the 
 altars of their God, and continued sinners. From such 
 sowings, no good fruit could be expected to flourish ; yet 
 Francis was not without his hours of devotion ; but his 
 religion was, like himself, reserved, superstitious, ascetic, 
 and gloomy. He never entered into social worship : if he 
 prayed, it was with an ill-concealed wish to end this life of 
 
306 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 care. Tf ke returned thanks, it was with a bitterness that 
 mocked the throne before which he was prostrate. Such 
 pictures are revolting ; but their originals have and do 
 exist ; for what enormity is there of which human frailty, 
 unchecked by divine assistance, may not be guilty ? 
 
 Francis received an invitation to visit a brother of his 
 mother's at his seat in the country, about the time of the 
 expected return of George from America ; and in compli- 
 ance with the wishes of his uncles he accepted it. The 
 house was thronged with visitors, and many of them were 
 ladies. To these, the arrival of the unmarried heir of 
 the house of Derwent was a subject of no little interest. 
 His character had, however, preceded him, and a few days 
 of his awkward and, as they conceived, sullen deportment 
 drove them back to their former beaux, with the excep- 
 tion of one; and "she was not only among the fairest of 
 the throng, but decidedly of the highest pretensions on 
 the score of birth and fortune. 
 
 Marian Lumley was the only surviving child of the last 
 Duke of Annerdale, with whom had expired the higher 
 honors of his house. But the Earldom of Pendennyss, 
 with numerous ancient baronies, were titles in fee ; and to- 
 gether with his princely estates had descended to his 
 daughter as heir-general of the family. A peeress in her 
 own right, with an income far exceeding her utmost 
 means of expenditure, the lovely Countess of Pendennyss 
 was a prize aimed at by all the young nobles of the em- 
 pire. 
 
 Educated in the midst of flatterers and dependants she 
 had become haughty, vain, and supercilious ; still she was 
 lovely, and no one knew better how to practise the most 
 winning arts of her sex, when whim or interest prompted 
 her to the trial. 
 
 Her host was her guardian and relative ; and through 
 his agency she had rejected, at the age of twenty, numer- 
 ous suitors for her hand. Her eyes were fixed on the 
 ducal coronet ; and unfortunately for Francis Denbigh, he 
 was, at the time, the only man of the proper age who could 
 elevate her to that enviable distinction in the kingdom ; 
 and an indirect measure of her own had been the means 
 of his invitation to the country. 
 
 Like the rest of her young companions, Marian was 
 greatly disappointed on the view of her intended captive, 
 and for a day or two she abandoned him to his melancholy 
 and himself. But ambition was her idol ; and to its pow- 
 
PRECA UTION. 307 
 
 erful rival, love, she was yet a stranger. After a few strug- 
 gles with her inclinations the consideration that their 
 united fortunes and family alliances would make one of 
 the wealthiest and most powerful houses in the kingdom, 
 prevailed. Such early sacrifices of the inclinations in a 
 woman of her beauty, youth, and accomplishments, may 
 excite surprise ; but where the mind is left uncultivated 
 by the hand of care, the soul untouched by the love of 
 goodness, the human heart seldom fails to set up an idol 
 of its own to worship. In the Countess of Pendennyss 
 this idol was pride. 
 
 The remainder of the ladies, from ceasing to wonder at 
 the manners of Francis, had made them the subject of 
 their mirth ; and nettled at his apparent indifference to 
 their society, which they erroneously attributed to his 
 sense of importance, they overstepped the bounds of good- 
 breeding in manifesting their displeasure. 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh," cried one of the most thoughtless and 
 pretty of the gay tribe to him one day, as Francis sat in a 
 corner abstracted from the scene around him, "when do 
 you mean to favor the world with your brilliant ideas in 
 the shape of a book ? " 
 
 "Oh! no doubt soon," said a second; "and I expect 
 they will be homilies, or another volume to the * Whole Duty 
 of Man.' " 
 
 "Rather," cried a third, with bitter irony, "another can- 
 to to the ' Rape of the Lock,' his ideas are so vivid and full 
 of imagery." 
 
 " Or, what do you think," said a fourth, speaking in a 
 voice of harmony and tones of the most soothing tender- 
 ness, " of pity and compassion for the follies of those in- 
 ferior minds who cannot enjoy the reflections of a good 
 sense and modesty peculiarly his own ?" 
 
 This also might be irony, and Francis thought it so ; but 
 the tones were so soft and conciliating, that with a face 
 pale with his emotions he ventured to look up, and met the 
 eye of Marian fixed on him, in an expression that changed 
 his death-like hue into the color of vermilion. 
 
 He thought of this speech ; he reasoned on it ; he dreamt 
 on it. But for the looks which accompanied it, like the 
 rest of the party, he would have thought it the crudest cut 
 of them all. But that look, those eyes, that voice what a 
 commentary on her language did they not afford ! 
 
 Francis was not long in suspense ; the next morning an 
 excursion was proposed, which included all but himself in 
 
308 PRECA UTIOlsr. 
 
 its arrangements. He was either too reserved or too proud 
 to offer services which were not required. 
 
 Several gentlemen had contended for the honor of driving 
 the countess in a beautiful phaeton of her own. They grew 
 earnest in their claims : one had been promised by its mis- 
 tress with an opportunity of trying the ease of the carriage; 
 another was delighted with the excellent training of her 
 horses ; in short, all had some particular claim to the dis- 
 tinction, which was urged with a warmth and pertinacity 
 proportionate to the value of the prize to be obtained. 
 Marian heard the several claimants with an ease and indif- 
 ference natural to her situation, and ended the dispute by 
 saying 
 
 " Gentlemen, as I have made so many promises from the 
 dread of giving offence, I must throw myself on the mercy 
 of Mr. Denbigh, who alone, with the best claims, does not 
 urge them. To you, then," continued she, approaching 
 him with the whip which was to be given the victor, " I ad- 
 judge the prize, if you will condescend to accept it." 
 
 This was uttered with one of her most attractive smiles, 
 and Francis received the whip with an emotion that he with 
 difficulty could control. 
 
 The gentlemen were glad to have the contest decided by 
 adjudging the prize to one so little dangerous, and the la- 
 dies sneered at her choice as they left the house. 
 
 There was something so soothing in the manners of Lady 
 Pendennyss, she listened to the little he said with such a 
 respectful attention, was so anxious to have him give his 
 opinions, that the unction of flattery, thus sweetly applied 
 and for the first time, could not fail of its wonted effects. 
 
 The communications thus commenced were continued. 
 It was so easy to be attentive by being simply polite to one 
 unused to notice of any kind, that Marian found the fate 
 of the young man in her hands almost as soon as she at- 
 tempted to control it. 
 
 A new existence opened upon Francis, as day after day 
 she insensibly led him to a display of powers he was un- 
 conscious until now of possessing himself. His self-respect 
 began to increase, his limited pleasures to multiply, and h& 
 could now look around him with a sense of participation 
 in the delights of life, as he perceived himself of conse- 
 quence to this much admired woman. 
 
 Trifling incidents, managed on her part with consummate 
 art, had led him to the daring inference that he was not en- 
 tirely indifferent to her ; and Francis returned the incipient 
 
PRECA UTION. 309 
 
 affection of his mistress with a feeling but little removed 
 from adoration. Week flew by after week, and still he 
 lingered at the residence of his kinsman, unable to tear 
 himself from the society of one so worshipped, and yet 
 afraid to take a step by making a distinct declaration which 
 might involve him in disgrace or ridicule. 
 
 The condescension of the countess increased, and she 
 had indirectly given him the most flattering assurances of 
 his success, when George, just arrived from America, hav- 
 ing first paid his greetings to his reconciled parents and 
 the happy couple of his generosity, flew to the arms of 
 his brother in Suffolk. 
 
 Francis was overjoyed to see George, and George de- 
 lighted in the visible improvement of his brother. Still 
 Francis was far, very far behind his junior in graces of 
 mind and body ; indeed, few men in England were more 
 adapted by nature and education for female society than 
 was Colonel Denbigh, at the period of which we write. 
 
 Marian witnessed all his attractions and deeply felt their 
 influence. For the first time she felt the emotions of the 
 gentle passion ; and after having sported in the gay world, 
 and trifled with the feelings of others for years, the 
 countess in her turn became an unwilling victim to its 
 power. George met her flame with a corresponding 
 ardor, and the struggle between ambition and love became 
 severe. The brothers, unconsciously, were rivals. 
 
 Had George for a moment suspected the situation of 
 the feelings of Francis, his very superiority in the contest 
 would have induced him to retreat from the unnatural 
 rivalry. Had the elder dreamt of the views of his junior, 
 he would have abandoned his dearest hopes in utter de- 
 spair. Francis had so long been accustomed to consider 
 George as his superior in everything, that a competition 
 with him would have appeared desperate. Marian con- 
 trived to keep both in hopes, undecided herself which to 
 choose, and perhaps ready to yield to the first applicant. 
 A sudden event, however, removed all doubts, and decided 
 the fate of the three. 
 
 The Duke of Derwent and his bachelor brother became 
 so dissatisfied with the character of their future heir, that 
 they as coolly set about providing themselves with wives as 
 they had performed any other ordinary transaction of life. 
 They married cousins, and on the same day the choice of 
 the ladies was assigned between them by lots ; and if his 
 grace got the prettier, his brother certainly got the richest 
 
310 PRECA (JTIOiV. 
 
 under the circumstances a very tolerable distribution of 
 fortune's favors. 
 
 These double marriages dissolved the charm of Francis, 
 and Lady Pendennyss determined to consult her wishes ; a 
 little pointed encouragement brought out the declaration 
 of George, and he was accepted. 
 
 Francis, who had never communicated his feelings to any 
 one but the lady, and that only indirectly, was crushed by the 
 blow. He continued in public until the day of their union, 
 was present, composed and silent ; but it was the silence 
 of a mountain whose volcanic contents had not reached 
 the surface. The same day he disappeared, and every in- 
 quiry after him proved fruitless ; search was baffled, and 
 for seven years it was not known what had become of the 
 general's eldest son. 
 
 George on marrying resigned his commission, at the 
 entreaties of his wife, and retired to one of her seats, to 
 the enjoyment of ease and domestic love. The countess 
 was enthusiastically attached to him ; and as motives for 
 the indulgence of coquetry were wanting, her character 
 became gradually improved by the contemplation of the 
 excellent qualities of her generous husband. 
 
 A lurking suspicion of the cause of Francis's sudden dis- 
 appearance rendered her uneasy at times ; but Marian 
 was too much beloved, too happy, in the enjoyment of too 
 many honors, and of too great wealth, to be open to the con- 
 victions of conscience. It is in our hours of pain and priva- 
 tion that we begin to feel its sting ; if we are prosperous, 
 we fancy we reap the fruits of our own merit ; but if 
 we are unfortunate, the voice of truth seldom fails to re- 
 mind us that we are deserving of our fate : a blessed pro- 
 vision of Providence that often makes the saddest hours 
 of our earthly career the morn of a day that is to endure 
 for ever. 
 
 General Denbigh and Lady Margaret both died within 
 five years of the marriage of their favorite child, although 
 both lived to see their descendant, in the person of the in- 
 fa,nt Lord Lumley. 
 
 The duke and his brother George were each blessed 
 with offspring, and in these several descendants of the dif- 
 ferent branches of the family of Denbigh may be seen the 
 different personages of our history. On the birth of her 
 youngest child, the Lady Marian, the Countess of Penden- 
 nyss sustained a shock in her health from which she never 
 wholly recovered ; she became nervous, and losj; most of 
 
her energy both of mind and body. Her husband was her 
 solace ; his tenderness remaining unextinguished, while 
 his attentions increased. 
 
 As the fortune of Ives and Isabel put the necessity of a 
 living out of the question, and no cure offering for the ac- 
 ceptance of the first, he was happy to avail himself of an 
 offer to become domestic chaplain to his now intimate 
 friend, Mr. Denbigh. For the first six years they were in- 
 mates of Pendennyss Castle. The rector of the parish was 
 infirm, and averse to a regular assistant ; but the unob- 
 trusive services of Mr. Ives were not less welcome to the 
 pastor than to his parishioners. 
 
 Employed in the duties which of right fell to the incum- 
 bent, and intrusted with the spiritual guardianship of the 
 dependants of the castle, our young clergyman had ample 
 occupation for all his time, if not a sufficient theatre for 
 his usefulness. Isabel and himself remained the year round 
 in Wales, and the first dawnings of education received by 
 Lord Lumley were those he acquired conjointly with 
 Francis from the care of the latter's father. They formed, 
 with the interval of the time spent by Mr. Denbigh and 
 Lady Pendennyss in town in winter, but one family. To 
 the gentleman, the attachment of the grateful Ives was as 
 strong as it was lasting. Mrs. Ives never ceased to con- 
 sider him as a self-devoted victim to her happiness ; and 
 although a far more brilliant lot had awaited him by the 
 change, yet her own husband could not think it a more 
 happy one. 
 
 The birth of Lady Marian had already, in its conse- 
 quences, begun to throw a gloom round the domestic com- 
 forts of Denbigh, when he was to sustain another misfor- 
 tune in a separation from his friends. 
 
 Mr., now Dr. Ives, had early announced his firm inten- 
 tion, whenever an opportunity w T as afforded him, to enter 
 into the fullest functions of his ministry, as a matter of 
 
 duty. Such an opportunity now offered at B , and the 
 
 doctor became its rector about the period Sir Edward be- 
 came possessor of his paternal estate. 
 
 Denbigh tried every inducement within his power to 
 keep the doctor in his own society. If as many thousands 
 as his living would give him hundreds could effect it, they 
 would have been at his service ; but Denbigh understood 
 the character of the divine too well to offer such an induce^ 
 ment ; he however urged the claims of friendship to the 
 utmost, but without success. 
 
3 1 2 PRECAUTION. 
 
 The doctor acknowledged the hold both himself and 
 family had gained upon his affections, but he added 
 
 " Consider, my dear Mr. Denbigh, what we would have 
 thought of one of the earlier followers of our Saviour, who 
 from motives of convenience or worldly-mindedness could 
 have deserted his sacred calling. Although the changes 
 in the times may have rendered the modes of conducting 
 them different, necessarily the duties remain the same. 
 The minister of our holy religion who has once submitted 
 to the call of his divine Master, must allow nothing but 
 ungovernable necessity to turn him from the path he has 
 entered on ; and should he so far forget himself, I greatly 
 fear he would plead, when too late to remedy the evil, his 
 worldly duties, his cares, or even his misfortunes, in vain. 
 Solemn and arduous are his obligations to labor, but when 
 faithfully he has discharged these duties, oh ! how glorious 
 must be his reward." 
 
 Before such opinions every barrier must fall, and the 
 doctor entered into the cure of his parish without further 
 opposition, though not without unceasing regret on the 
 part of his friend. Their intercourse was, however, main- 
 tained by letter, and they also frequently met at Lumley 
 Castle, a seat of the countess's, within two days' ride of the 
 doctor's parish, until her increasing indisposition rendered 
 journeying impossible ; then, indeed, the doctor extended 
 his rides into Wales, but with longer intervals between his 
 visits, though with the happiest effects to the objects of 
 his journey. 
 
 Mr. Denbigh, worn down with watching and blasted 
 hopes, under the direction of the spiritual watchfulness of 
 
 the rector of B , became an humble, sincere, and pious 
 
 Christian. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 IT has been already mentioned that the health of Lady 
 Pendennyss suffered a severe shock, in giving birth to a 
 daughter. Change of scene was prescribed as a remedy 
 for her disorder, and Denbigh and his wife were on their 
 return from afruitless excursion among the northern lakes, 
 in pursuit of amusement and relief for the latter, when 
 they were compelled to seek shelter from the fury of a 
 sudden gust in the first building that offered. It was a 
 farm-house of the better sort ; and the attendants, car- 
 
PRECA UTIOM, 313 
 
 riages, and appearance of their guests, caused no little 
 confusion to its simple inmates. A fire was lighted in the 
 best parlor, and every effort was made by the inhabitants 
 to contribute to the comforts of the travellers. 
 
 The countess and her husband were sitting in that kind 
 of listless melancholy which had been too much the com- 
 panion of their later hours, when in the interval of the 
 storm a male voice in an adjoining room commenced sing- 
 ing the following ballad ; the notes being low, monotonous, 
 but unusually sweet, and the enunciation so distinct as to 
 render every syllable intelligible : 
 
 Oh ! I have lived in endless pain, 
 And I have lived, alas ! in vain, 
 
 For none regard my woe 
 No father's care conveyed the truth, 
 No mother's fondness blessed my youth, 
 
 Ah ! joys too great to know 
 
 And Marian's love and Marian's pride, 
 Have crushed the heart that would have died 
 
 To save my Marian's tears 
 A brother's hand has struck the blow, 
 Oh ! may that brother never know 
 
 Such madly sorrowing years ! 
 
 But hush my griefs and hush my song. 
 
 I've mourned in vain I've mourned too long, 
 
 When none have come to soothe 
 And dark's the path that lies before, 
 And dark have been the days of yore, 
 
 And all was dark in youth. 
 
 The maids employed around the person of their com- 
 fortless mistress, the valet of Denbigh engaged in arrang- 
 ing a dry coat for his master all suspended their employ- 
 ments to listen in breathless silence to the mournful 
 melody of the song. 
 
 But Denbigh himself had started from his seat at the 
 first notes, and he continued until the voice ceased, gazing 
 in vacant horror in the direction of the sounds. A door 
 opened from the parlor to the room of the musician ; he 
 rushed through it, and there, in a kind of shed to the 
 building, which hardly sheltered him from the fury of the 
 tempest, clad in the garments of the extremest poverty, 
 with an eye roving in madness, and a body rocking to and 
 fro from mental inquietude, he beheld, seated on a stone, 
 the remains of his long lost brother Francis. 
 
3 H PRECAUTION. 
 
 The language of the song was too plain to be misunder- 
 stood. The truth glared around George with a violence 
 that dazzled his brain ; but he saw it all, he felt it all, and 
 rushing to the feet of his brother, he exclaimed in horror, 
 pressing his hands between his own 
 
 "Francis, my own brother do yeu not know me ?" 
 The maniac regarded him with a vacant gaze, but the 
 voice and the person recalled the compositions of his more 
 reasonable moments to his recollection ; pushing back the 
 hair of George, so as to expose his fine forehead to view, 
 he contemplated him for a few moments, and then con- 
 tinued to sing, in a voice rendered still sweeter than be- 
 fore by his faint impressions : 
 
 His raven locks, that richly curled, 
 His eye, that proud defiance hurled, 
 
 Have stol'n my Marian's love ! 
 Had I been blest by nature's grace, 
 With such a form, with such a face, 
 
 Could I so treacherous prove ? 
 
 And what is man and what is care 
 That he should let such passions tear 
 
 The bases of the soul ? 
 Oh ! you should do as I have done 
 And having pleasure's summit won, 
 
 Each bursting sob control ! 
 
 On ending the last stanza, the maniac released his 
 brother, and broke into the wildest laugh of madness. 
 
 " Francis ! Oh ! Francis, my brother ! " cried George 
 in bitterness. A piercing shriek drew his eye to the door 
 he had passed through on its threshold lay the senseless 
 body of his wife. The distracted husband forgot every- 
 thing in the situation of his Marian, and raising her in his 
 arms he exclaimed 
 
 " Marian my Marian, revive look up know me." 
 
 Francis had followed him and now stood by his side, 
 gazing intently on the lifeless body ; his looks became 
 more soft his eye glanced less wildly he, too, cried 
 
 "Marian my Marian." 
 
 There was a mighty effort ; nature could endure no 
 more, he broke a blood-vessel and fell at the feet of 
 George. They flew to his assistance, giving the countess 
 to her women : but he was dead. 
 
 For seventeen years Lady Pendennyss survived this 
 shock ; but, having reached her own abode, during that 
 long period she never left her room. 
 
PRECAUTION. 315 
 
 In the confidence of his surviving hopes, Dr. Ives and 
 his wife were made acquainted with the real cause of the 
 grief of their friend, but the truth went no further. Den- 
 bigh was the guardian of his three young cousins, the 
 duke, his sister, and young George Denbigh; these, with 
 his son, Lord Lumley, and daughter, Lady Marian, were 
 removed from the melancholy of the castle to scenes better 
 adapted to their opening prospects in life. Yet Lumley 
 was fond of the society of his father, and finding him a 
 youth endowed beyond his years, the care of his parent 
 was early turned to the most important of his duties in 
 that sacred office ; and when he yielded to his wishes to go 
 into the army, he knew he went a youth of sixteen, pos- 
 sessed of principles and self-denial that would become a 
 man of five-and-twenty. 
 
 General Wilson completed the work which the father 
 had begun ; and Lord Lumley formed a singular exception 
 to the character of most of his companions. 
 
 At the close of the Spanish war he returned home, and 
 was just in time to receive the parting breath of his mother. 
 
 A few days before her death the countess requested that 
 her children might be made acquainted with her history 
 and misconduct ; and she placed in the hands of her son a 
 letter, with directions for him to open it after her decease. 
 It was addressed to both children, and after recapitulating 
 generally the principal events of her life, continued : 
 
 "Thus, my children, you perceive the consequences of 
 indulgence and hardness of heart, which made me insensi- 
 ble to the sufferings of others, and regardless of the plain- 
 est dictates of justice. Self was my idol. The love of 
 admiration, which was natural to me, was increased by the 
 flatterers who surrounded me ; and had the customs of our 
 country suffered royalty to descend in their unions to a 
 grade in life below their own, your uncle would have es- 
 caped the fangs of my baneful coquetry. 
 
 "Oh! Marian, my child, never descend so low as to 
 practise those arts which have degraded your unhappy 
 mother. I would impress on you, as a memorial of my 
 parting affection, these simple truths that coquetry stands 
 next to the want of chastity in the scale of female vices ; 
 it is in fact a kind of mental prostitution ; it is ruinous to 
 all that delicacy of feeling which gives added lustre to fe- 
 male charms ; it is almost destructive to modesty itself. 
 A woman who has been addicted to its practice, may strive 
 
316 PRECAUTION. 
 
 long and in vain to regain that singleness of heart, which 
 can bind her up so closely in her husband and children as 
 to make her a good wife or a mother ; and if it should 
 have degenerated into habit, it may lead to the awful re- 
 sult of infidelity to her marriage vows. 
 
 " It is vain for a coquette to pretend to religion ; its 
 practice involves hypocrisy, falsehood, and deception 
 everything that is mean everything that is debasing. In 
 short, as it is bottomed on selfishness and pride, where it 
 has once possessed the mind, it will only yield to the truth- 
 displaying banners of the cross. This, and this only, can 
 remove the evil ; for without it she, whom the charms of 
 youth and beauty have enabled to act the coquette, will 
 descend into the vale of life, altered, it is true, but not 
 amended. She will find the world, with its allurements, 
 clinging around her parting years, in vain regrets for days 
 that are flown, and in mercenary views for her descendants. 
 Heaven bless you, my children, console and esteem youi 
 inestimable father while he yet remains with you ; and 
 place your reliance on that Heavenly Parent who will never 
 desert those who seek him in sincerity and love. Your 
 dying mother, M. PENDENNYSS." 
 
 This letter, evidently written under the excitement ol 
 deep remorse, made a great impression on both her chil- 
 dren. In Lady Marian it was pity, regret, and abhorrence 
 of the fault which had been the principal cause of the 
 wreck of her mother's peace of mind ; but in her brother, 
 now Earl of Pendennyss, these feelings were united with 
 a jealous dread of his own probable lot in the chances of 
 matrimony. 
 
 His uncle had been the supposed heir to a more elevated 
 title than his own, but he was now the actual possessor of 
 as honorable a name, and of much larger revenues. The 
 great wealth of his maternal grandfather, and the consider- 
 able estate of his own father, were, or would soon be, cen- 
 tred in himself ; and if a woman as amiable, as faultless, as 
 affection had taught him to believe his mother to be, could 
 yield in her situation to the lure of worldly honors, had he 
 not great reason to dread, that a hand might be bestowed 
 at some day upon himself, when the heart would point out 
 some other destination, if the real wishes of its owner were 
 consulted ? 
 
 Pendennyss was modest by nature, and humble from 
 principle, though by no means distrustful ; yet the shock 
 
PRRCA UTIOM. 317 
 
 of discovering his mother's fault, the gloom occasioned by 
 her death and his father's declining health, sometimes led 
 him into a train of reflections which, at others, he would 
 have fervently deprecated. 
 
 A short time after the decease of the countess, Mr. 
 Denbigh, finding his constitution fast giving way, under 
 the wasting of a decline he had been in for a year, resolved 
 to finish his days in the abode of his Christian friend, 
 Doctor Ives. For several years they had not met ; in- 
 creasing duties and infirmities on both sides having inter- 
 rupted their visits. 
 
 By easy stages he left the residence of his son in Wales, 
 and accompanied by both his children he reached Lumley 
 Castle much exhausted ; here he took a solemn and final 
 leave of Marian, unwilling that she should so soon witness 
 again the death of another parent, and dismissing the earl's 
 
 equipage and attendants a short day's ride from B , 
 
 they proceeded alone to the rectory. 
 
 A letter had been forwarded acquainting the doctor of 
 his approaching visit, wishing it to be perfectly private, 
 but nat alluding to its object, and naming a day, a week 
 later than the one on which he arrived. This plan was 
 altered on perceiving the torch of life more rapidly ap- 
 proaching the socket than he had at first supposed. His 
 unexpected appearance and reception are known. Den- 
 bigh's death and the departure of his son followed ; Francis 
 having been Pendennyss's companion to the tomb of his 
 ancestors in Westmoreland. 
 
 The earl had a shrinking delicacy, under the knowledge 
 of his family history, that made him anxious to draw all 
 eyes from the contemplation of his mother's conduct ; how 
 far the knowledge of it had extended in society he could 
 not know, but he wished it buried with her in the tomb. 
 The peculiar manner of his father's death would attract 
 notice, and might recall attention to the prime cause of his 
 disorder ; as yet all was veiled, and he wished the doctor's 
 family to let it remain so. It was, however, impossible 
 that the death of a man of Mr. Denbigh's rank should be 
 unnoticed in the prints, and the care of Francis dictated 
 the simple truth without comments, as it appeared. As 
 regarded the Moseleys, what was more natural than that 
 the son of Mr. Denbigh should also be Mr. Denbigh? 
 
 In the presence of the rector's family no allusions were 
 made to their friends, and the villagers and the neighbor- 
 hood spoke of them as old and young Mr. Denbigh. 
 
3 i8 PR EC A UTION*. 
 
 The name of Lord Lumley, now earl of Pendennyss, was 
 known to the whole British nation ; but the long retire- 
 ment of his father and mother had driven them almost 
 from the recollection of their friends. Even Mrs. Wilson 
 supposed her favorite hero a Lumley. Pendennyss Castle 
 had been for centuries the proud residence of that family ; 
 and the change of name in its possessor was forgotten 
 with the circumstances that had led to it. 
 
 When, therefore, Emily met the earl so unexpectedly 
 the second time at the rectory, she, of course, with all her 
 companions, spoke of him as Mr. Denbigh. On that oc- 
 casion Pendennyss had called in person, in expectation of 
 meeting his kinsman, Lord Bolton ; but finding him ab- 
 sent, he could not resist his desire to visit the rectory. 
 Accordingly, he sent his carriage and servants on to Lon- 
 don, leaving them at a convenient spot, and arrived on 
 foot at the house of Doctor Ives. From the same motives 
 which had influenced him before a wish to indulge, un- 
 disturbed by useless ceremony, his melancholy reflections, 
 he desired that his name might not be mentioned. 
 
 This was an easy task. Both Dr. and Mrs. Ives had 
 called him, when a child, George or Lumley, and were un- 
 used to his new appellation of Pendennyss ; indeed, it 
 rather recalled painful recollections to them all. 
 
 It may be remembered that circumstances removed the 
 necessity of any introduction to Mrs. Wilson and her party ; 
 and the difficulty in that instance was happily got rid of. 
 
 The earl had often heard Emily Moseley spoken of by 
 his friends, and in their letters they frequently mentioned 
 her name as connected with their pleasures and employ- 
 ments, and always with an affection, Pendennyss thought, 
 exceeding that which they manifested for their son's wife ; 
 and Mrs. Ives, the evening before, to remove unpleasant 
 thoughts, had given him a lively description of her person 
 and character. The earl's curiosity had been a little ex- 
 cited to see this paragon of female beauty and virtue ; 
 and, unlike most curiosity on such subjects, he was agree- 
 ably disappointed by the examination. He wished to 
 know more, and made interest with the doctor to assist 
 him to continue the incognito with which accident had 
 favored him. 
 
 The doctor objected on the ground of principle, and the 
 earl desisted ; but the beauty of Emily, aided by her char, 
 acter, had made an impression not to be easily shaken off, 
 and Pendennyss returned to the charge. 
 
PRECA UT1ON'. 319 
 
 His former jealousies were awakened in proportion to 
 his admiration ; and, after some time, he threw himself on 
 the mercy of the divine, by declaring his new motive, but 
 without mentioning his parents. The doctor pitied him, 
 for he scanned his feelings thoroughly, and consented to 
 keep silent, but laughingly declared it was bad enough for 
 a divine to be an accessory to, much less aiding in a de- 
 ception ; and that he knew if Emily and Mrs. Wilson learnt 
 his imposition, he would lose ground in their favor by the 
 discovery. 
 
 "Surely, George," said the doctor with a laugh, "you 
 don't mean to marry the young lady as Mr. Denbigh ? " 
 
 "Oh, no ! it is too soon to think of marrying her at all," 
 replied the earl with a smile ; " but, somehow, I should like 
 to see how my reception in the world will be as plain 
 Mr. Denbigh, unprovided for and unknown." 
 
 "No doubt, my lord," said the rector archly, "in pro. 
 portion to your merits, very unfavorably indeed ; but then 
 your humility will be finally elevated by the occasional 
 praises I have heard Mrs. Wilson lavish on your proper 
 character of late." 
 
 " I am much indebted to her partiality," continued the 
 earl mournfully ; then throwing off his gloomy thoughts 
 he added, " I wonder, my dear doctor, your goodness did 
 not set her right in the latter particular." 
 
 " Why, she has hardly given me an opportunity ; deli- 
 cacy and my own feelings have kept me very silent on the 
 subject of your family to any of that connection. They 
 think, I believe, I was a rector in Wales, instead of your 
 father's chaplain ; and somehow," continued the doctor, 
 smiling on his wife, " the association with your late parents 
 was so connected in my mind with my most romantic feel- 
 ings, that although I have delighted in it, I have seldom 
 alluded to it in conversation at all. Mrs. Wilson has 
 spoken of you but twice in my hearing, and that since she 
 has expected to meet you ; your name has doubtless re- 
 called the remembrance of her husband." 
 
 " I have many, many reasons to remember the general 
 with gratitude," cried the earl with fervor ; "but doctor, 
 do not forget my incognito : only call me George ; I ask 
 no more." 
 
 The plan of Pendennyss was put in execution. Day 
 after day he lingered in Northamptonshire, until his princi- 
 ples and character had grown upon the esteem of the 
 Moseleys in the manner we have mentioned. * 
 
320 PR EC A UTION-. 
 
 His frequent embarrassments were from the dread and 
 shame of a detection. With Sir Herbert Nicholson he had 
 a narrow escape, and Mrs. Fitzgerald and Lord Henry 
 Stapleton he of course avoided : for having gone so far, 
 he was determined to persevere to the end. Egerton he 
 thought knew him, and he disliked his character and man- 
 ners. 
 
 When Chatterton appeared most attentive to Emily, the 
 candor and good opinion of that young nobleman made 
 the earl acquainted with his wishes and his situation. Pen- 
 dennyss was too generous not to meet his rival on fair 
 grounds. His cousin and the duke were requested to use 
 their united influence secretly to obtain the desired station 
 for the baron. The result is known, . and Pendennyss 
 trusted his secret to Chatterton ; he took him to London, 
 gave him in charge to Derwent, and returned to prosecute 
 his own suit. His note from Bolton Castle was a ruse to 
 conceal his character, as he knew the departure of the 
 baronet's family to an hour, and had so timed his visit to 
 the earl as not to come in collision with the Moseleys. 
 
 "Indeed, my lord," cried the doctor to him one day, 
 " your scheme goes on swimmingly, and I am only afraid 
 when your mistress discovers the imposition, you will find 
 your rank producing a different effect from what you have 
 apprehended." 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 BUT Dr. Ives was mistaken. Had he seen the sparkling 
 eyes and glowing cheeks of Miss Moseley, the smile of 
 satisfaction and happiness which played on the usually 
 thoughtful face of Mrs. Wilson, when the earl handed them 
 into his own carriage, as they left his house on the even- 
 ing of the discovery, the doctor would have gladly ac- 
 knowledged the failure of his prognostics. In truth, there 
 was no possible event that, under the circumstances, could 
 have given both aunt and niece such heartfelt pleasure, as 
 the knowledge that Denbigh and the earl were the same 
 person. 
 
 Pendennyss stood holding the door of the carriage in 
 his hand, irresolute how to act, when Mrs. Wilson said 
 
 "Surely, my lord, you sup with us." 
 
 "A thousand thanks, my dear madam, for the privilege," 
 
PRECAUTION. 321 
 
 cried the earl, as he sprang into the coach : the door was 
 closed, and they drove off. 
 
 "After the explanations of this morning, my lord," said 
 Mrs. Wilson, willing to remove all doubts between him 
 and Emily, and perhaps anxious to satisfy her own curi- 
 osity, " it will be fastidious to conceal our desire to know 
 more of your movements. How came your pocket-book 
 in the possession of Mrs. Fitzgerald ? " 
 
 "Mrs. Fitzgerald!" cried Pendennyss, in astonishment; 
 " I lost the book in one of the rooms of the Lodge, and 
 supposed it had fallen into your hands, and betrayed my 
 disguise by Emily's rejection of me, and your own altered 
 eye. Was I mistaken then in both ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wilson now, for the first time, explained their real 
 
 f rounds for refusing his offers, which, in the morning, she 
 ad loosely mentioned as owing to a misapprehension of. 
 his just character, and recounted the manner of the book 
 falling into the hands of Mrs. Fitzgerald. 
 
 The earl listened in amazement, and, after musing with 
 himself, exclaimed 
 
 " I remember taking it from my pocket to show Colonel 
 Egerton some singular plants I had gathered, and think I 
 first missed it when returning to the place where I had 
 then laid it. In some of the side-pockets were letters 
 from Marian, addressed to me, properly ; and I naturally 
 thought they had met your eye." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson and Emily immediately thought Egerton 
 the real villain, who had caused both themselves and Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald so much uneasiness, and the former mentioned 
 her suspicions to the earl. 
 
 "Nothing more probable, dear madam," cried he, "and 
 this explains to me his startled looks when we first met, and 
 his evident dislike to my society, for he must have seen 
 my person, though the carriage hid him from my sight." 
 
 That Egerton was the wretch, and that through his 
 agency the pocket-book had been carried to the cottage, 
 they all now agreed, and turned to more pleasant subjects. 
 
 " Master ! here master ! " said Peter Johnson, as he 
 stood at the window of Mr. Benfield's room, stirring a gruel 
 for the old gentleman's supper, and stretching his neck 
 and straining his eyes to distinguish objects by the light of 
 the lamps " I do think there is Mr. Denbigh, handing 
 Miss Emmy from a coach covered with gold, and two foot- 
 men all dizzened with pride like." 
 
 The spoon fell from the hand of Mr. Benfield. He rose 
 
 21 
 
3 22 PR EC A UT1ON-. 
 
 briskly from his seat, and adjusting his dress, took the arm 
 of the steward and proceeded to the drawing-room. While 
 these several movements were in operation, which con- 
 sumed some time, the old bachelor relieved the tedium of 
 Peter's impatience by the following speech : 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh ! what, back ? I thought he never could 
 let that rascal John shoot him and forsake Emmy after 
 all "- - here the old gentleman suddenly recollected Den- 
 bigh's marriage, " but now, Peter, it can do no good either. 
 I remember that when my friend, the Earl of Gosford " 
 and again he was checked by the image of the card-table 
 and the viscountess ; " but, Peter," he said with great 
 warmth, " we can go down and see him, notwithstand- 
 ing." 
 
 " Mr. Denbigh ! " exclaimed Sir Edward, in astonish- 
 ment, when he saw the companion of his sister and child 
 enter the drawing-room, "you are welcome once more to 
 your old friends ; your sudden retreat from us gave us 
 much pain, but we suppose Lady Laura had too many at- 
 tractions to allow us to keep you any longer in Norfolk." 
 
 The good baronet sighed as he held out his hand to the 
 man whom he had once hoped to receive as a son. 
 
 " Neither Lady Laura nor any other lady, my dear Sir 
 Edward," cried the earl, as he took the baronet's hand, 
 " drove me from you, but the frowns of your own fair 
 daughter ; and here she is, ready to acknowledge her of- 
 fence, and, I hope, to atone for it." 
 
 John, who knew of the refusal of his sister, and was not 
 a little displeased with the cavalier treatment he had re- 
 ceived at Denbigh's hands, felt indignant at such improper 
 levity in a married man, and approached with 
 
 " Your servant, Mr. Denbigh I hope my Lady Laura is 
 well." 
 
 Pendennyss understood his look, and replied, very 
 gravely 
 
 " Your servant, Mr. John Moseley my Lady Laura is, 
 or certainly ought to be, very well, as she has this moment 
 gone to a rout, accompanied by her husband." 
 
 The quick eye of John glanced from the earl to his 
 aunt, to Emily ; a lurking smile was on all their features. 
 The heightened color of his sister, the flashing eyes of the 
 young nobleman, the face of his aunt, all told him that 
 something uncommon was about to be explained ; and, 
 yielding to his feelings, he caught the hand which Penden- 
 nyss extended to him, and cried 
 
PRECA UffOtf. 323 
 
 "Denbigh, I see I feel there is some unaccountable 
 mistake we are " 
 
 " Brothers ! " said the earl, emphatically. " Sir Edward 
 dear Lady Moseley, I throw myself on your mercy. I 
 am an impostor. When your hospitality received me into 
 your house, it is true you admitted George Denbigh ; but 
 he is better known as the Earl of Pendennyss." 
 
 " The Earl of Pendennyss ! " exclaimed Lady Moseley, 
 in a glow of delight, as she saw at once through some 
 juvenile folly a deception which promised both happiness 
 and rank to one of her children. " Is it possible, my dear 
 Charlotte, that this is your unknown friend ? " 
 
 "The very same, Anne," replied the smiling widow, 
 "and guilty of a folly that, at all events, removes the dis- 
 tance between us a little, by showing that he is subject to 
 the failings of mortality. But the masquerade is ended, 
 and I hope you and Edward will not only treat him as an 
 earl, but receive him as a son." 
 
 " Most willingly most willingly," cried the baronet, 
 with great energy ; " be he prince, peer, or beggar, he is the 
 preserver of my child, and as such he is always welcome." 
 
 The door now slowly opened, and the venerable bachelor 
 appeared on its threshold. 
 
 Pendennyss, who had never forgotten the good wil Imani- 
 fested to him by Mr. Benfield, met him with a look of 
 pleasure, as he expressed his happiness at seeing him 
 again in London. 
 
 " I never have forgotten your goodness in sending honest 
 Peter such a distance from home, on the object of his visit. 
 I now regret that a feeling of shame occasioned my an- 
 swering your kindness so laconically." Turning to Mrs. 
 Wilson, he added, "for a time I knew not how to write a 
 letter even, being afraid to sign my proper appellation, 
 and ashamed to use my adopted." 
 
 "Mr. Denbigh, I am happy to see you. I did send 
 Peter, it is true, to London, on a message to you but it is 
 all over now," the old man sighed " Peter, however, es- 
 caped the snares of this wicked place ; and if you are 
 happy, I am content. I remember when the Earl of " 
 
 " Pendennyss ! " exclaimed the other, " imposed on the 
 hospitality of a worthy man under an assumed appellation, 
 in order to pry into the character of a lovely female, who 
 was only too good for him, and who is now willing to for- 
 get his follies, and make him not only the happiest of men? 
 but the nephew of Mr. Benfield." 
 
324 PRECA UTION. 
 
 During this speech the countenance of Mr. Benfield had 
 manifested evident emotion. He looked from one to 
 another, until he saw Mrs. Wilson smiling near him. Point- 
 ing to the earl with his finger, he stood unable to speak, as 
 she answered simply 
 
 " Lord Pendennyss." 
 
 "And Ernmy dear will you will you marry him?" 
 cried Mr. Benfield, suppressing his feelings to give utter- 
 ance to his question. 
 
 Emily felt for her uncle, and, blushing deeply, with great 
 frankness she put her hand in that of the earl, who pressed 
 it with rapture again and again to his lips. 
 
 Mr. Benfield sank into a chair, and with a heart softened 
 by emotion, burst into tears. 
 
 " Peter," he cried, struggling with his feelings, " I am 
 now ready to depart in peace I shall see my darling 
 Emmy happy, and to her care I shall commit you." 
 
 Emily, deeply affected with his love, threw herself into 
 his arms in a torrent of tears, and was removed from them 
 by Pendennyss, in consideration for the feelings of both. 
 
 Jane felt no emotions of envy for her sister's happiness ; 
 on the contrary, she rejoiced in common with the rest of 
 their friends in her brightening prospects, and they all 
 took their seats at the supper-table, as happy a group as 
 was contained in the wide circle of the metropolis. A few 
 more particulars served to explain the mystery sufficiently, 
 until a more fitting opportunity made them acquainted 
 with the whole of the earl's proceedings. 
 
 "My Lord Pendennyss," said Sir Edward, pouring out 
 a glass of wine, and passing the bottle to his neighbor : 
 " I drink your health and happiness to yourself and my 
 darling child." 
 
 The toast was drunk by all the family, and the earl 
 replied to the compliments with his thanks and smiles, 
 while Emily could only notice them with her blushes and 
 tears. 
 
 But this was an opportunity not to be lost by the honest 
 steward, who, from affection and long services, had been 
 indulging in familiarities exceeding any other of his mas- 
 ter's establishment. He very deliberately helped himself 
 to a glass of wine, and drawing near the seat of the bride- 
 elect, with an humble reverence, commenced his speech as 
 follows : 
 
 "My dear Miss Emmy : Here's hoping you'll live to be 
 a comfort to your honored father, and your honored 
 
PRECA UTIOK. 325 
 
 mother, and my dear honored master, and yourself, and 
 Madam Wilson." The steward paused to clear his voice, 
 and profited by the delay to cast his eye round the table to 
 collect the names; "and Mr. John Moseley, and sweet 
 Mrs. Moseley, and pretty Miss Jane " (Peter had lived too 
 long in the world to compliment one handsome woman in 
 the presence of another, without the qualifying his speech 
 a little) ; "and Mr. Lord Denbigh earl-like, as they say 
 he now is, and " Peter stopped a moment to deliberate, 
 and then making another reverence, he put the glass to his 
 lips ; but before he had got half through its contents recol- 
 lected himself, and replenishing it to the brim, with a smile 
 acknowledging his forgetfulness, continued, "and the Rev. 
 Mr. Francis Ives, and the Rev. Mrs. Francis Ives." 
 
 Here the unrestrained laugh of John interrupted him ; 
 and considering with himself that he had included the 
 whole family, he finished his bumper. Whether it was 
 pleasure at his own eloquence in venturing on so long a 
 speech, or the unusual allowance, that affected the stew- 
 ard, he was evidently much satisfied with himself, and 
 stepped back behind his master's chair, in great good 
 humor. 
 
 Emily, as she thanked him, noticed a tear in the eye of 
 the old man, as he concluded his oration, that w r ould have 
 excused a thousand breaches of fastidious ceremony. But 
 Pendennyss rose from his seat, and took him kindly by 
 the hand, and returned his own thanks for his good wishes. 
 
 " I owe you much good will, Mr. Johnson, for your two 
 journeys in my behalf, and trust I never shall forget the 
 manner in which you executed your last mission in par- 
 ticular. We are friends, I trust, for life." 
 
 "Thank you thank your honor's lordship," said the 
 steward, almost unable to utter ; " I hope you may live 
 long, to make dear little Miss Emmy as happy as I know 
 she ought to be." 
 
 "But really, my lord," cried John, observing that the 
 steward's affection for his sister had affected her to tears, 
 "it was a singular circumstance, the meeting of the four 
 passengers of the stage so soon at your hotel." 
 
 Moseley explained his meaning to the rest of the com- 
 pany. 
 
 " Not so much so as you imagine," said the earl in reply ; 
 "yourself and Johnson were in quest of me. Lord Henry 
 Stapleton was under an engagement to meet me that even- 
 ing at the hotel, as we were both going to his sister's wed- 
 
326 PRECA UTION. 
 
 ding I having arranged the thing with him by letter pre 
 viously ; and General M'Carthy was also in search of me, 
 on business relating to his niece, the Donna Julia. He 
 had been to Annerdale House, and, through my servants, 
 heard I was at a hotel. It was the first interview between 
 us, and not quite as amicable a one as has since been had 
 in Wales. During my service in Spain, I saw the conde, 
 but not the general. The letter he gave me was from the 
 Spanish ambassador, claiming a right to require Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald from our government, and deprecating my 
 using an influence to counteract his exertions " 
 
 "Which you refused," said Emily, eagerly. 
 
 " Not refused," answered the earl, smiling at her warmth, 
 while he admired her friendly zeal, "for it was unneces- 
 sary : there is no such power vested in the ministry. But 
 I explicitly told the general, I would oppose any violent 
 measures to restore her to her country and a convent. 
 From the courts, I apprehended nothing for my fair 
 friend." 
 
 " Your honor my lord," said Peter, who had been 
 listening with great attention, " if I may presume just to 
 ask two questions, without offence." 
 
 " Say on, my good friend," said Pendennyss, with an 
 encouraging smile. 
 
 " Only," continued the steward hemming, to give 
 proper utterance to his thoughts "I wish to know, 
 whether you stayed in that same street after you left the 
 hotel for Mr. John Moseley and I had a slight differ- 
 ence in opinion about it." 
 
 The earl smiled, having caught the arch expression of 
 John, and replied 
 
 " I believe I owe you an apology, Moseley, for my cav- 
 alier treatment ; but guilt makes us all cowards. I found 
 you were ignorant of my incognito, and I was equally 
 ashamed to continue it, or to become the relator of my 
 own folly. Indeed," he continued, smiling on Emily as 
 he spoke, "I thought your sister had pronounced the 
 opinion of all reflecting people on my conduct. I went 
 out of town, Johnson, at day-break. What is the other 
 query ? " 
 
 "Why, my lord." said Peter, a little disappointed at 
 finding his first surmise untrue, "that outlandish tongue 
 your honor used " 
 
 " Was Spanish," cried the earl. 
 
 ''And not Greek, Peter," said his master, gravely. " I 
 
PR EC A UTION. 327 
 
 thought, from the words you endeavored to repeat to me, 
 that you had made a mistake. You need not be discon- 
 certed, however, for I know several members of the par- 
 liament of this realm who could not talk the Greek lan- 
 guage, that is, fluently. So it can be no disgrace to a 
 serving-man to be ignorant of it." 
 
 Somewhat consoled to find himself as well off as the 
 representatives of his country, Peter resumed his station in 
 silence, when the carriages began to announce the return 
 from the opera. The earl took his leave, and the party 
 retired to rest. 
 
 The thanksgivings of Emily that night, ere she laid her 
 head on her pillow, were the purest offering of mortal 
 innocence. The prospect before her was unsullied by a 
 cloud, and she poured out her heart in the fullest confi- 
 dence of pious love and heartfelt gratitude. 
 
 As early on the succeeding morning as good-breeding 
 would allow, and much earlier than the hour sanctioned 
 by fashion, the earl and Lady Marian stopped in the car- 
 riage of the latter at the door of Sir Edward Moseley. 
 Their reception was the most flattering that could be of- 
 fered to people of their stamp ; sincere, cordial, and, with 
 a trifling exception in Lady Moseley, unfettered with any 
 useless ceremonies. 
 
 Emily felt herself drawn to her new acquaintance with 
 a fondness which doubtless grew out of her situation with 
 her brother : which soon found reasons enough in the 
 soft, ladylike, and sincere manners of Lady Marian, to 
 justify her attachment on her own account. 
 
 There was a very handsome suite of drawing-rooms in 
 Sir Edward's house, and the communicating doors were 
 carelessly open. Curiosity to view the furniture, or some 
 such trifling reasons, induced the earl to find his way into 
 the one adjoining that in which the family were seated. 
 It was unquestionably a dread of being lost in a strange 
 house, that induced him to whisper a request to the blush- 
 ing Emily to be his companion ; and lastly, it must have 
 been nothing but a knowledge that a vacant room was 
 easier viewed than one filled with company, that preverfted 
 any one from following them. John smiled archly at 
 Grace, doubtless in approbation of the comfortable time 
 his friend was likely to enjoy, in his musings on the taste 
 of their mother. How the door became shut we have ever 
 been at a loss to imagine. 
 
 The company without were too good-natured and well 
 
328 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 satisfied with each other to miss the absentees, until the 
 figure of the earl appeared at the reopened door, beckon- 
 ing, with a face of rapture, to Lady Moseley and Mrs. 
 Wilson. Sir Edward next disappeared, then Jane, then 
 Grace then Marian : until John began to think a tete-a- 
 tete with Mr. Benfield was to be his morning's amusement. 
 
 The lovely countenance of his wife, however, soon re-, 
 lieved his ennui, and John's curiosity was gratified by an or- 
 der to prepare for his sister's wedding the following week. 
 
 Emily might have blushed more than common during 
 this interview, but it is certain she did not smile less ; and 
 the earl, Lady Marian assured Sir Edward, was so very 
 different a creature from what he had recently been, that 
 she could hardly think it was the same sombre gentleman 
 with whom she had passed the last few months in Wales 
 and Westmoreland. 
 
 A messenger was despatched for Dr. Ives and their 
 friends at B , to be witnesses to the approching nup- 
 tials ; and Lady Moseley at length found an opportunity 
 of indulging her taste for splendor on this joyful occasion. 
 
 Money was no consideration ; and Mr. Benfield abso- 
 lutely pined at the thought that the great wealth of the 
 earl put it out of his power to Contribute in any manner 
 to the comfort of his Emmy. However, a fifteenth codicil 
 was framed by the ingenuity of Peter and his master, and 
 if it did not contain the name of George Denbigh, it did 
 that of his expected second son, Roderick Benfield Den- 
 bigh, to the qualifying circumstance of twenty thousand 
 pounds as a bribe for the name. 
 
 " And a very pretty child, I dare say, it will be," said the 
 steward, as he placed the paper in its repository. " I don't 
 know that I ever saw, your honor, a couple that I thought 
 would make a handsomer pair like, except" Peter's mind 
 dwelt on his own youthful form, coupled with the smiling 
 graces of Patty Steele. 
 
 " Yes ! they are as handsome as they are good ! " replied 
 his master. " I remember now when our speaker took his 
 third wife, the world said that they were as pretty a couple 
 as there was at court. But my Emmy and the earl will be 
 a much finer pair. Oh ! Peter Johnson ; they are young, 
 and rich, and beloved ; but, after all, it avails but little if 
 they be not good." 
 
 " Good ! " cried the steward in astonishment ; " they are 
 as good as angels." 
 
 The master's ideas of human excellence had suffered a 
 
PR EC A UTION. 329 
 
 heavy blow in the view of his viscountess, but he answered 
 mildly, 
 
 "As good as mankind can well be." 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 THE warm weather had now commenced, and Sir Ed- 
 ward, unwilling to be shut up in London at a time the ap- 
 pearance of vegetation gave the country a new interest, 
 and accustomed for many years of his life to devote an 
 hour in his garden each morn, had taken a little ready-fur- 
 nished cottage a short ride from his residence, with the 
 intention of frequenting it until after the birthday. Thith- 
 er then Pendennyss took his bride from the altar, and a 
 few days were passed by the newly married pair in this 
 little asylum. 
 
 Doctor Ives, with Francis, Clara, and their mother, had 
 obeyed the summons with an alacrity in proportion to the 
 joy they felt on receiving it, and the former had the hap- 
 piness of officiating on the occasion. It would have been 
 easy for the wealth of the earl to procure a license to en- 
 able them to marry in the drawing-room ; the permission 
 was obtained, but neither Emily nor himself felt a wish to 
 utter their vows in any other spot than at the altar, and in 
 the house of their Maker. 
 
 If there was a single heart that felt the least emotion of 
 regret or uneasiness, it was Lady Moseley, who little rel- 
 ished the retirement of the cottage on so joyful an occa- 
 sion ; but Pendennyss silenced her objections by good- 
 humoredly replying 
 
 " The fates have been so kind to me, in giving me cas- 
 tles and seats, you ought to allow me, my dear Lady Mose- 
 ley, the only opportunity I shall probably ever have of 
 enjoying love in a cottage." 
 
 A few days, however, removed the uneasiness of the 
 good matron, who had the felicity within the week of see- 
 ing her daughter initiated mistress of Annerdale House. 
 
 The morning of their return to this noble mansion the 
 earl presented himself in St. James's Square, with the intel- 
 ligence of their arrival, and smiling as he bowed to Mrs. 
 Wilson, he continued 
 
 "And to escort you, dear madam, to your new abode." 
 
 Mrs, Wilson started with surprise, and with~a heart beat- 
 
33 
 
 PRECAUTION. 
 
 ing quick with emotion, she required an explanation of his 
 words. 
 
 "Surely, dearest Mrs. Wilson more than aunt my 
 mother you cannot mean, after having trained my Emily 
 through infancy to maturity in the paths of duty, to desert 
 her in the moment of her greatest trial. I am the pupil of 
 your husband," he continued, taking her hands in his own 
 with reverence and affection ; " we are the children of your 
 joint care, and one home, as there is but one heart, must 
 in future contain us." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had wished for, but hardly dared to expect 
 this invitation. It was now urged from the right quarter, 
 and in a manner that was as sincere as it was gratifying. 
 Unable to conceal her tears, the good widow pressed the 
 hand of Pendennyss to her lips as she murmured out her 
 thanks. Sir Edward was prepared also to lose his sister ; 
 but unwilling to relinquish the pleasure of her society, he 
 urged her making a common residence between the two 
 families. 
 
 "Pendennyss has spoken the truth, my dear brother," 
 cried she, recovering her voice ; " Emily is the child of my 
 care and my love the two beings I love best in this world 
 are now united but," she added, pressing Lady Moseley 
 to her bosom, " my heart is large enough for you all ; you 
 are of my blood, and my gratitude for your affection is 
 boundless. There shall be but one large family of us ; and 
 although our duties may separate us for a time, we will, I 
 trust, ever meet in tenderness and love, though with George 
 and Emily I will take up my abode." 
 
 " I hope your house in Northamptonshire is not to be 
 vacant always," said Lady Moseley to the earl, anxiously. 
 
 " I have no house there, my dear madam," he replied ; 
 "when I thought myself about to succeed in my suit be- 
 fore, I directed a lawyer at Bath, where Sir William Harris 
 resided most of his time, to endeavor to purchase the dean- 
 ery, whenever a good opportunity offered ; in my discom- 
 fiture," he added, smiling, "I forgot to countermand the 
 order, and he purchased it immediately on its being ad- 
 vertised. For a short time it was an encumbrance to me, 
 but it is now applied to its original purpose. It is the 
 sole property of the Countess of Pendennyss, and I doubt 
 not you will see it often and agreeably tenanted." 
 
 This intelligence gave great satisfaction to his friends, 
 and the expected summer restored to even Jane a gleam of 
 her former pleasure. 
 
PRECA UTJOi\ T . 331 
 
 If there be bliss in this life, approaching in any degree 
 to the happiness of the blessed, it is the fruition of long 
 and ardent love, where youth, innocence, piety, and family 
 concord, smile upon the union. And all these were united 
 in the case of the newly married pair ; but happiness in 
 this world cannot, or does not, in any situation, exist with- 
 out alloy. 
 
 The peace of mind and fortitude of Emily were fated to 
 receive a blow, as unlooked for to herself as it was unex- 
 pected to the world. Bonaparte appeared in France, and 
 Europe became in motion. 
 
 From the moment the earl heard the intelligence, his 
 own course was decided. His regiment was the pride of 
 the army, and that it would be ordered to join the duke he 
 did not entertain a doubt. 
 
 Emily was, therefore, in some little measure prepared 
 for the blow. It is at such moments as our own acts, or 
 events affecting us, get to be without our control, that 
 faith in the justice and benevolence of God is the most 
 serviceable to the Christian. When others spend their 
 time in useless regrets, he is piously resigned ; it even so 
 happens, that when others mourn he can rejoice. 
 
 The sound of the bugle, wildly winding its notes, broke 
 on the stillness of the morning in the little village in which 
 was situated the cottage tenanted by Sir Edward Moseley. 
 Almost concealed by the shrubbery which surrounded its 
 piazza, stood the forms of the Countess of Pendennyss and 
 her sister Lady Marian, watching eagerly the appearance 
 of those whose approach was thus announced. 
 
 The carriage of the ladies, with its idle attendants, was 
 in waiting at a short distance ; and the pale face but com- 
 posed resignation of its mistress, indicated a struggle be- 
 tween conflicting duties. 
 
 File after file of heavy horse passed them in military 
 pomp, and the wistful gaze of the two females had scanned 
 them in vain for the well-known, much-beloved counte- 
 nance of the leader. At length a single horseman ap- 
 proached them, riding deliberately and musing ; their 
 forms met his eye, and in an instant Emily was pressed to 
 the bosom of her husband. 
 
 " It is the doom of a soldier," said the earl, dashing a 
 tear from his eye ; " I had hoped that the peace of the 
 world would not again be assailed for years, and that ambi- 
 tion and jealousy would yield a respite to our bloody pro- 
 fession ; but cheer up, my love hope for the best your 
 
332 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 trust is not in the things of this life, and your happiness is 
 without the power of man." 
 
 "Ah! Pendennyss my husband," sobbed Emily, sink 
 ing on his bosom, " take with you my prayers my love 
 everything that can console you everything that may 
 profit you. I will not tell you to be careful of your life ; 
 your duty teaches you that. As a soldier, expose it ; as a 
 husband, guard it ; and return to me as you leave me, a 
 lover, the dearest of men, and a Christian." 
 
 Unwilling to prolong the pain of parting, the earl gave 
 his wife a last embrace, held Marian affectionately to his 
 bosom, and mounting his horse, was out of sight in an 
 instant. 
 
 Within a few days of the departure of Pendennyss, Chat- 
 terton was surprised with the entrance of his mother and 
 Catherine. His reception of them was that of a respect- 
 ful child, and his wife exerted herself to be kind to con- 
 nections she could not love, in order to give pleasure to a 
 husband she adored. Their tale was soon told. Lord and 
 Lady Herrifield were separated ; and the do\vager, alive to 
 the dangers of a young woman in Catherine's situation, 
 and without a single principle on which to rest the assur- 
 ance of her blameless conduct in future, had brought her 
 to England in order to keep off disgrace, by residing with 
 her child herself. 
 
 There was nothing in his wife to answer the expectations 
 with which Lord Herriefield married. She had beauty, but 
 with that he was already sated ; her simplicity, which, by 
 having her attention drawn elsew r here, had at first charmed 
 him, was succeeded by the knowing conduct of a deter- 
 mined follower of the fashions, and a decided woman of 
 the world. 
 
 It had never struck the viscount as impossible that an 
 artless and innocent girl would fall in love with his faded 
 and bilious face, but the moment Catherine betrayed the 
 arts of a manager, he saw at once the artifice that had been 
 practised ; of course he ceased to love her. 
 
 Men are flattered for a season with notice that has been 
 unsought, but it never fails to injure the woman who prac- 
 tises it, in the opinion of the other sex, in time. Without 
 a single feeling in common, without a regard to anything 
 but self, in either husband or wife, it could not but hap- 
 pen that a separation must follow, or their days be spent 
 in wrangling and misery. Catherine willingly left her 
 husband ; her husband more willingly got rid of her. 
 
PR EC A [7TSOM 333 
 
 During all these movements the dowager had a difficult 
 game to play. It was unbecoming her to encourage the 
 strife, and it was against her wishes to suppress it ; she 
 therefore moralized with the peer and frowned upon her 
 daughter. 
 
 The viscount listened to her truisms with the attention 
 of a boy who is told by a drunken father how wicked it is 
 to love liquor, and heeded them about as much ; while 
 Kate, mistress at all events of two thousand a year, minded 
 her mother's frowns as little as she regarded her smiles ; 
 both were indifferent to her. 
 
 A few days after the ladies left Lisbon, the viscount 
 proceeded to Italy in company with the repudiated wife of 
 a British naval officer ; and if Kate was not guilty of an 
 offence of equal magnitude, it was more owing to her 
 mother's present vigilance than to her previous care. 
 
 The presence of Mrs. Wilson was a great source of con- 
 solation to Emily in the absence of her husband ; and as 
 their longer abode in town was useless, the countess de- 
 clining to be presented without the earl, the whole family 
 decided upon a return into Northamptonshire. 
 
 The deanery had been furnished by order of Penden- 
 nyss immediately on his marriage ; and its mistress has- 
 tened to take possession of her new dwelling. The amuse- 
 ment and occupation of this movement, the planning of 
 little improvements, her various duties under her increased 
 responsibilities, kept Emily from dwelling unduly upon 
 the danger of her husband. She sought out among the 
 first objects of her bounty the venerable peasant whose 
 loss had been formerly supplied by Pendennysson his first 
 
 visit to B , after the death of his father. There might 
 
 not have been the usual discrimination and temporal use- 
 fulness in this instance which generally accompanied her 
 benevolent acts ; but it was associated with the image of 
 her husband, and it could excite no surprise in Mrs. Wil- 
 son, although it did in Marian, to see her sister driving two 
 or three times a week to relieve the necessities of a man 
 who appeared actually to be in want of nothing. 
 
 Sir Edward was again among those he loved, and his 
 hospitable board was once more surrounded with the faces 
 of his friends and neighbors. The good-natured Mr. 
 Haughton was always a welcome guest at the hall, and 
 met, soon after their return, the collected family of the 
 baronet, at a dinner given by the latter to his children and 
 one or two of his most intimate neighbors. 
 
334 PRECA UTION. 
 
 " My Lady Pendennyss," cried Mr. Haughton, in the 
 course of the afternoon, " I have news from the earl, which 
 I know it will do your heart good to hear." 
 
 Emily smiled at the prospect of hearing in any manner 
 of her husband, although she internally questioned the 
 probability of Mr. Haughton's knowing anything of his 
 movements, of which her daily letters did not apprise her. 
 
 "Will you favor me with the particulars of your intelli- 
 gence, sir ?" said the countess. 
 
 " He has arrived safe with his regiment near Brussels ; I 
 heard it from a neighbor's son who saw him enter the 
 house occupied by Wellington, while he was standing in 
 the crowd without, waiting to get a peep at the duke." 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Wilson with a laugh, "Emily knew 
 that ten days ago. Could your friend tell us anything -of 
 Bonaparte ? We are much interested in his movements 
 just now." 
 
 Mr. Haughton, a good deal mortified to find his news 
 stale, mused a moment, as if in doubt to proceed or not ; 
 but liking of all things to act the part of a newspaper, he 
 continued 
 
 " Nothing more than you see in the prints. But I sup- 
 pose your ladyship has heard about Captain Jarvis, too ?." 
 
 "Why, no," said Emily, laughing; "the movements of 
 Captain Jarvis are not quite as interesting to me as those 
 of Lord Pendennyss has the Duke made him an aid-de- 
 camp ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no," cried the other, exulting at his having 
 something new ; " as soon as he heard of the return of 
 Boney, he threw up his commission and got married." 
 
 " Married ! " cried John ; " not to Miss Harris, surely." 
 
 " No ; to a silly girl he met in Cornwall, who was fool 
 enough to be caught with his gold lace. He married one 
 day, and the next told his disconsolate wife and panic- 
 stricken mother that the honor of the Jarvises must sleep 
 until the supporters of the name became sufficiently nu- 
 merous to risk them in the field of battle." 
 
 " And how did Mrs. Jarvis and Sir Timo's lady relish 
 the news?" inquired John, expecting something ridicu- 
 lous. 
 
 "Not at all," rejoined Mr. Haughton; "the former 
 sobbed, and said she had only married him for his bravery 
 and red coat, and the lady exclaimed against the destruc- 
 tion of his budding honors." 
 
 " How did it terminate ? " asked Mrs. Wilson. 
 
PRECA UTION. 335 
 
 " Why, it seems while they were quarrelling about it, the 
 war-office cut the matter short by accepting his resigna- 
 tion. I suppose the commander-in-chief had learned his 
 character ; but the matter was warmly contested they 
 even drove the captain to a declaration of his principles." 
 
 " And what kind of ones might they have been, Haugh- 
 ton ? " said Sir Edward, dryly. 
 
 " Republican." 
 
 " Republican ! " exclaimed two or three, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, liberty and equality, he contended, were his idols, 
 and he could not find it in his heart to fight against Bona- 
 parte." 
 
 "A somewhat singular conclusion," said Mr. Benfield, 
 musing. " I remember when I sat in the House, there 
 was a party who were fond of the cry of this said liberty ; 
 but when they got the power they did not seem to me to 
 suffer people to go more at large than they went before ; 
 but I suppose they were diffident of telling the world their 
 minds after they were put in such responsible stations, for 
 fear of the effect of example." 
 
 " Most people like liberty as servants but not as masters, 
 uncle," cried John, with a sneer. 
 
 " Captain Jarvis, it seems, liked it as a preservative 
 against danger," continued Mr. Haughton. " To avoid 
 ridicule in his new neighborhood, he has consented to his 
 father's wishes, and turned merchant in the city again." 
 
 " Where I sincerely hope he will remain," cried John, 
 who, since the accident of the arbor, could not tolerate 
 the unfortunate youth. 
 
 "Amen ! " said Emily, in an undertone, heard only by 
 her brother. 
 
 " But Sir Timo what has become of Sir Timo the 
 good, honest merchant ? " asked John. 
 
 " He has dropt the title, insists on being called plain 
 Mr. Jarvis, and lives entirely in Cornwall. His hopeful 
 son-in-law has gone with his regiment to Flanders ; and 
 Lady Egerton, being unable to live without her father's 
 assistance, is obliged to hide her consequence in the west 
 also." 
 
 The subject became now disagreeable to Lady Moseley, 
 and it was changed. Such conversations made Jane more 
 reserved and dissatisfied than ever. She had no one re- 
 spectable excuse to offer for her partiality to her former 
 lover, and when her conscience told her the mortifying 
 fact, was apt to think that others remembered it too. 
 
336 PR EC A UT1ON-. . 
 
 The letters from the continent now teemed with prepa- 
 rations for the approaching contest ; and the apprehen- 
 sions of our heroine and her friends increased, in propor- 
 tion to the nearness of the struggle, on which hung not 
 only the fates of thousands of individuals, but of adverse 
 princes and mighty empires. In this confusion of inter- 
 ests, and of jarring of passions, there were offered prayers 
 almost hourly for the safety of Pendennyss, which were as 
 pure and ardent as the love which prompted them. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 NAPOLEON had commenced those daring and rapid move- 
 ments, which for a time threw the peace of the world into 
 the scale of fortune, and which nothing but the interposi- 
 tion of a ruling Providence could avert from their threat- 
 ened success. As the th dragoons wheeled into a field 
 
 already deluged with English blood, on the heights of 
 Quatre Bras, the eye of its gallant colonel saw a friendly 
 battalion falling beneath the sabres of the enemy's cuiras- 
 siers. The word was passed, the column opens, the sounds 
 of the quivering bugle were heard for a moment above the 
 roar of the cannon and the shouts of the combatants ; the 
 charge, sweeping like a whirlwind, fell heavily on those 
 treacherous Frenchmen, who to-day had sworn fidelity to 
 Louis, and to-morrow intended lifting their hands in alle- 
 giance to his rival. 
 
 " Spare my life in mercy," cried an officer, already dread- 
 fully wounded, who stood shrinking from the impending 
 blow of an enraged Frenchman. An English dragoon 
 dashed at the cuirassier, and witli one blow severed his 
 arm from his body. 
 
 11 Thank God," sighed the wounded officer, sinking be- 
 neath the horse's feet. 
 
 His rescuer threw himself from the saddle, and raising 
 the fallen man inquired into his wounds. It was Penden- 
 nyss, and it was Egerton. The wounded man groaned 
 aloud, as he saw the face of him who had averted the fatal 
 blow ; but it was not the hour for explanations or confes- 
 sions, other than those with which the dying soldiers en- 
 deavored to make their tardy peace with their God. 
 
 Sir Henry was given in charge to two slightly wounded 
 British soldiers, and the earl remounted : the scattered 
 
PR EC A UTION. 337 
 
 troops were rallied at the sound of the trumpet, and again 
 and again, led by their dauntless colonel, were seen in the 
 thickest of the fray, with sabres drenched in blood, and 
 voices hoarse with the shouts of victory. 
 
 The period between the battles of Quatre Bras and 
 Waterloo was a trying one to the discipline and courage 
 of the British army. The discomfited Prussians on their 
 flank had been routed and compelled to retire, and in their 
 front was an enemy, brave, skilful, and victorious, led by 
 the greatest captain of the age. The prudent commander 
 of the English forces fell back with dignity and reluctance 
 to the field of Waterloo ; here the mighty struggle was to 
 terminate, and the eye of every experienced soldier looked 
 on those eminences as on the future graves for thou- 
 sands. 
 
 During this solemn interval of comparative inactivity 
 the mind of Pendennyss dwelt on the affection, the inno- 
 cence, the beauty and worth of his Emily, until the curd- 
 ling blood, as he thought on her lot should his life be the 
 purchase of the coming victory, warned him to quit the 
 gloomy subject, for the consolations of that religion which 
 only could yield him the solace his wounded feelings re- 
 quired. In his former campaigns the earl had been sensi- 
 ble of the mighty changes of death, and had ever kept in 
 view the preparations necessary to meet it with hope and 
 joy; but the world clung around him now, in the best af- 
 fections of his nature, and it was only as he could picture 
 the happy reunion with his Emily in a future life, that he 
 could look on a separation in this without despair. 
 
 The vicinity of the enemy admitted of no relaxation in 
 the strictest watchfulness in the British lines : and the 
 comfortless night of the seventeenth was passed by the 
 earl, and his lieutenant-colonel, George Denbigh, on 
 the same cloak, and under the open canopy of heaven. 
 
 As the opening cannon of the enemy gave the signal for 
 the commencing conflict, Pendennyss mounted his charger 
 with a last thought on his distant wife. With a mighty 
 struggle he tore her as it were from his bosom, and gave 
 the remainder of the day to duty. 
 
 Who has not heard of the events of that fearful hour, on 
 which the fate of Europe hung as it were suspended in the 
 scale ? On one side supported by the efforts of desperate 
 resolution, guided by the most consummate art ; and on 
 the other defended by a discipline and enduring courage 
 almost without a parallel. 
 
338 PRECA UTION. 
 
 The indefatigable Blucher arrived, and the star of Na* 
 poleon sank. 
 
 Pendennyss threw himself from his horse, on the night 
 of the eighteenth of June, as he gave way by orders, in 
 the pursuit, to the fresher battalions of the Prussians, with 
 the languor that follows unusual excitement, and mental 
 thanksgivings that this bloody work was at length ended. 
 The image of his Emily again broke over the sterner feel- 
 ings of the battle, like the first glimmerings of light which 
 succeed the awful darkness of the eclipse of the sun : and 
 he again breathed freely, in the consciousness of the hap- 
 piness which would await his speedy return. 
 
 " I am sent for the colonel of the th dragoons," said 
 
 a courier in broken English to a soldier, near where the 
 earl lay on the ground, waiting the preparations of his 
 attendants; "have I found the right regiment, my friend?" 
 
 " To be sure you have," answered the man, without look- 
 ing up from his toil on his favorite animal, "you might 
 have tracked us by the dead Frenchmen, I should think. 
 So you want my lord, my lad, do you ? do we move again 
 to-night ?" suspending his labor for a moment in expecta- 
 tion of a reply. 
 
 "Not to my knowledge," rejoined the courier; "my 
 message is to your colonel, from a dying man. Will you 
 point out his station ?" 
 
 The soldier complied, the message was soon delivered, 
 and Pendennyss prepared to obey its summons immedi- 
 ately. Preceded by the messenger as a guide, and followed 
 by Harmer, the earl retraced his steps over that ground 
 on which he had but a few hours before been engaged in 
 the deadly strife of man to man, hand to hand. 
 
 How different is the contemplation of a field of battle 
 during and after the conflict ! The excitement, suspended 
 success, shouts, uproar, and confusion of the former, pre- 
 vent any contemplation of the nicer parts of this confused 
 mass of movements, charges, and retreats ; or if a brilliant 
 advance is made, a masterly retreat effected, the imagina- 
 tion is chained by the splendor and glory of the act, with- 
 out resting for a moment on the sacrifice of individual 
 happiness with which it is purchased. A battle-ground 
 from which the whirlwind of the combat has passed, pre- 
 sents a different sight ; it offers the very consummation of 
 human misery. 
 
 There may occasionally be an individual, who from sta- 
 tion, distempered mind, or the encouragement of chimer- 
 
PR EC A UTIOM 33$ 
 
 ical ideas of glory, quits the theatre of life with at least 
 the appearance of pleasure in his triumphs. If such there 
 be in reality, if this rapture of departing glory be anything 
 more than the deception of a distempered excitement, the 
 subject of its exhibition is to be greatly pitied. To the 
 Christian, dying in peace with both God and man, can it 
 alone be ceded in the eye of reason, to pour out his ex- 
 istence with a smile on his quivering lip. 
 
 And the warrior, who falls in the very arms of victory, 
 after passing a life devoted to the world ; even if he sees 
 kingdoms hang suspended on his success, may smile in- 
 deed, may utter sentiments full of loyalty and zeal, may be 
 the admiration of the world, and what is his reward ! a 
 deathless name, and an existence of misery which knows 
 no termination. 
 
 Christianity alone can make us good soldiers in any 
 cause, for he who knows how to live, is always the least 
 afraid to die. 
 
 Pendennyss and his companions pushed their way over 
 the ground occupied before the battle by the enemy ; de- 
 scended into and through that little valley, in which yet 
 lay, in undistinguished confusion, masses of the dead and 
 dying of either side ; and again over the ridge, on which 
 could be marked the situation of those gallant squares 
 which had so long resisted the efforts of the horse and ar- 
 tillery, by the groups of bodies, fallen where they had 
 bravely stood, until even the callous Harmer sickened with 
 the sight of a waste of life that he had but a few hours be- 
 fore exultingly contributed to increase. 
 
 Appeals to their feelings as they rode through the field 
 had been frequent, and their progress was much retarded 
 by attempts to contribute to the ease of a wounded or a 
 dying man ; but as the courier constantly urged speed, as 
 the only means of securing the object of their ride, these 
 halts were reluctantly abandoned. 
 
 It was ten o'clock before they reached the farm-house, 
 where, in the midst of hundreds of his countrymen, lay the 
 former lover of Jane. 
 
 As the subject of his confession must be anticipated by 
 the reader, we will give a short relation of his life, and of 
 those acts which more materially affect our history. 
 
 Henry Egerton had been turned early on the world, like 
 hundreds of his countrymen, without any principle to 
 counteract the arts of infidelity, or resist the temptations 
 of life. His father held a situation under government, and 
 
340 PRECAUTION. 
 
 was devoted to his rise in the diplomatic line. His mothei 
 was a woman of fashion, who lived for effect and idle com- 
 petition with her sisters in weakness and folly. All h6 
 learnt in his father's house was selfishness, from the ex- 
 ample of one, and a love of high life and its extravagance 
 from the other. 
 
 He entered the army young, and from choice. The 
 splendor and reputation of the service caught his fancy ; 
 and, by pride and constitution he was indifferent to per- 
 sonal danger. Yet he loved London and its amusements 
 better than glory ; and the money of his uncle, Sir Ed- 
 gar, whose heir he was reputed to be, raised him to the 
 rank of lieutenant-colonel, without his spending an hour 
 in the field. 
 
 Egerton had some abilities, and a good deal of ardor of 
 temperament, by nature. The former, from indulgence 
 and example, degenerated into acquiring the art to please 
 in mixed society ; and the latter, from want of employ- 
 ment, expended itself at the card table. 
 
 The association between the vices is intimate. There 
 really appears to be a kind of modesty in sin that makes 
 it ashamed of good company. If we are unable to recon- 
 cile a favorite propensity to our principles, we are apt to 
 abandon the unpleasant restraint on our actions, rather 
 than admit the incongruous mixture. Freed entirely from 
 the fetters of our morals, what is there that our vices will 
 not prompt us to commit ? Egerton, like thousands of 
 others, went on from step to step, until he found himself 
 in the world, free to follow all his inclinations, so he vio- 
 lated none of the decencies of life. 
 
 When in Spain, in his only campaign, he was acciden- 
 tally, as has been mentioned, thrown in the way of the 
 Donna Julia, and brought her off the ground under the 
 influence of natural sympathy and national feeling ; a 
 kind of merit that makes vice only more dangerous, by 
 making it sometimes amiable. He had not seen his de- 
 pendant long before her beauty, situation, and his passions 
 decided him to effect her ruin. 
 
 This was an occupation that his figure, manners, and 
 propensities had made him an adept in, and nothing wag 
 further from his thoughts than the commission of any other 
 than the crime that, according to his code, a gentleman 
 might be guilty of with impunity. 
 
 It is, however, the misfortune of sin, that from being our 
 slave it becomes a tyrant ; and Egerton attempted what in 
 
PRECA UTION. 341 
 
 other countries, and where the laws ruled, might have cost 
 him his life. 
 
 The conjecture of Pendennyss was true. He saw the 
 face of the officer who interposed between him and his 
 villanous attempt, but was hid himself from view. He 
 aimed not at his life, but at his own escape. Happily his 
 first shot succeeded, for the earl would have been sacri- 
 ficed to preserve the character of a man of honor; though 
 no one was more regardless of the estimation he was held 
 in by the virtuous than Colonel Egerton. 
 
 In pursuance of his plans on Mrs. Fitzgerald, the colonel 
 had sedulously avoided admitting any of his companions 
 into the secret of his having a female in his care. 
 
 When he left the army to return home, he remained 
 until a movement of the troops to a distant part of the 
 country enabled him to effect his own purposes, without 
 incurring their ridicule ; and when he found himself 
 obliged to abandon his vehicle for a refuge in the woods, 
 the fear of detection made him alter his course ; and under 
 the pretence of wishing to be in a battle about to be 
 fought, he secretly rejoined the army, and the gallantry 
 of Colonel Egerton was mentioned in the next despatches. 
 
 Sir Herbert Nicholson commanded the advanced guard, 
 at which the earl arrived with the Donna Julia ; and like 
 every other brave man (unless guilty himself) was indignant 
 at the villany of the fugitive. The confusion and enor- 
 mities daily practised in the theatre of the war prevented 
 any close inquiries into the subject, and circumstances had 
 so enveloped Egerton in mystery, that nothing but an inter- 
 view with the lady herself was likely to expose him. 
 
 With Sir Herbert Nicholson he had been in habits of 
 intimacy, and on that gentleman's alluding in a conver- 
 sation in the barracks at F - to the lady brought into 
 his quarters before Lisbon, he accidentally omitted men- 
 tioning the name of her rescuer. Egerton had never be- 
 fore heard the transaction spoken of, and as he had of 
 course never mentioned the subject himself, was ignorant 
 who had interfered between him and his views; also of 
 the fate of Donna Julia ; indeed, he thought it probable 
 that it had not much improved by a change of guardians. 
 
 In coming into Northamptonshire he had several views ; 
 he wanted a temporary retreat from his creditors. Jarvis 
 had a*v infant fondness for play, without an adequate skill, 
 and the money of the young ladies, in his necessities, was 
 becoming of importance ; but the daughters of Sir Edward 
 
342 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 Moseley were of a description more suited to his taste, and 
 their portions were as ample as the others. He had become 
 in some degree attached to Jane ; and as her imprudent 
 parents, satisfied with his possessing the exterior and req- 
 uisite recommendations of a gentleman, admitted his visits 
 freely, he determined to make her his wife. 
 
 When he met Denbigh the first time, he saw that chance 
 had thrown him in the way of a man who might hold his 
 character in his power. He had never seen him as Pen- 
 dennyss, and, it will be remembered, was ignorant of the 
 name of Julia's friend : he now learned for the first time 
 that it was Denbigh. Uneasy at he knew not what, fearful 
 of some exposure he knew not how, when Sir Herbert 
 alluded to the occurrence, with a view to rebut the charge, 
 if Denbigh should choose to make one, and with the near- 
 sightedness of guilt, he'pretended to know the occurrence, 
 and under the promise of secrecy, mentioned that the 
 name of the officer was Denbigh. He had noticed Den- 
 bigh avoiding Sir Herbert at the ball ; and judging others 
 from himself, thought it was a wish to avoid any allusions 
 to the lady he had brought into the other's quarters that 
 induced the measure ; for he was in hopes that if Denbigh 
 was not as guilty as himself, he was sufficiently so to wish 
 to keep the transaction from the eyes of Emily. He was, 
 however, prepared for an explosion or an alliance with 
 him, when the sudden departure of Sir Herbert removed 
 the danger of a collision. Believing at last that they were 
 to be brothers-in-law, and mistaking the earl for his cousin, 
 whose name he bore, Egerton became reconciled to the 
 association ; while Pendennyss, having in his absence 
 heard, on inquiring, some of the vices of the colonel, was 
 debating with himself whether he should expose them to 
 Sir Edward or not. 
 
 It was in their occasional interchange of civilities that 
 Pendennyss placed his pocket-book upon a table, while he 
 exhibited the plants to the colonel ; the figure of Emily 
 passing the window drew him from the room, and Eger- 
 ton, having ended his examination, observing the book, 
 put it in his own pocket, to return it to its owner when they 
 next met. 
 
 The situation, name, and history of Mrs. Fitzgerald were 
 never mentioned by the Moseleys in public ; but Jane, in 
 the confidence of her affections, had told her lover who 
 the inmate of the cottage was. The idea of her being 
 kept there by Denbigh immediately occurred to him, and 
 
PR EC A UTION. 
 
 343 
 
 although he was surprised at the audacity of the thing, 
 he was determined to profit by the occasion. 
 
 To pay this visit, he stayed away from the excursion on 
 the water, as Pendennyss had done to avoid his friend, Lord 
 Henry Stapleton. An excuse of business, which served for 
 his apology, kept the colonel from seeing Denbigh to re- 
 turn the book, until after his visit to the cottage.. His 
 rhapsody of love, and offers to desert his intended wife, 
 were nothing but the commonplace talk of his purposes ; 
 and his presumption in alluding to his situation with Miss 
 Moseley, proceeded from his impressions as to Julia's real 
 character. In the struggle for the bell, the pocket-book 
 of Denbigh accidentally fell from his coat, and the retreat 
 of the colonel was too precipitate to enable him to re- 
 cover it. 
 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald was too much alarmed to distinguish 
 nicely, and Egerton proceeded to the ball-room with the 
 indifference of a hardened offender. When the arrival of 
 Miss Jarvis, to whom he had committed himself, prompted 
 him to a speedy declaration, and the unlucky conversation 
 of Mr. Holt brought about a probable detection of his 
 gaming propensities, the colonel determined to get rid of 
 his awkward situation and his debts by a coup-de-main. 
 He accordingly eloped with Miss Jarvis. 
 
 What portion of the foregoing narrative made the dying 
 confession of Egerton to the man he had so lately discov- 
 ered to be the Earl of Pendennyss, the reader can easily 
 imagine. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 THE harvest had been gathered, and the beautiful vales of 
 Pendennyss were shooting forth a second crop of verdure. 
 The husbandman was turning his prudent forethought 
 to the promises of the coming year, while the castle it- 
 self exhibited to the gaze of the wondering peasant a sight 
 of cheerfulness and animation which had not been seen 
 in it since the days of the good duke. Its numerous win- 
 dows were opened to the light of the sun its halls teemed 
 with the faces of its happy inmates. Servants in various 
 liveries were seen gliding through its magnificent apart- 
 ments and multiplied passages. Horses, grooms, and car- 
 riages, with varied costumes and different armorial bear- 
 ings, crowded its spacious stables and offices. Everything 
 
344 PRECA UT1ON. 
 
 spoke society, splendor, and activity without ; everything 
 denoted order, propriety, and happiness within. 
 
 In a long range of spacious apartments were grouped in 
 the pursuit of their morning employments, or in arranging 
 their duties and pleasures of the day, the guests and owners 
 of the princely abode. 
 
 In one room was John Moseley, carefully examining the 
 properties of some flints which were submitted to his ex- 
 amination by his attending servant ; while Grace, sitting 
 at his side, playfully snatches the stones from his hand, as 
 she cries half reproachfully, half tenderly : 
 
 " You must not devote yourself to your gun so incessant- 
 ly, Moseley ; it is cruel to kill inoffensive birds for your 
 amusement only." 
 
 " Ask Emily's cook, and Mr. Haughton's appetite," said 
 John, coolly extending his hand toward her for the flint, 
 "whether no one is gratified but myself. I tell you, Grace, 
 I seldom fire in vain." 
 
 "That only makes the matter worse ; the slaughter you 
 commit is dreadful." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried John, with a laugh, " the ci-devant Captain 
 Jarvis is a sportsman to your mind. He would shoot a 
 month without moving a feather ; he was a great friend 
 to," throwing an arch look to his solitary sister, who sat 
 on a sofa at a distance, perusing a book, "Jane's feathered 
 songsters." 
 
 " But now, Moseley," said Grace, yielding the flints, but 
 gently retaining the hand that took them, " Pendennyss 
 and Chatterton intend driving their wives, like good hus- 
 bands, to see the beautiful waterfall in the mountains ; and 
 what am I to do this long, tedious morning ? " 
 
 John stole an inquiring glance, to see if his wife was 
 very anxious to join the party, cast one look of regret on 
 a beautiful agate that he had selected, and inquired 
 
 " Do you wish to go very much, Mrs. Moseley ? " 
 
 " Indeed indeed I do," said the other, eagerly, " if " 
 
 " If what ? " 
 
 " You will drive me ! " continued she, with a cheek 
 slightly tinged with color. 
 
 "Well, then," answered John, with deliberation, and re- 
 garding his wife with affection, " I will go on one condi- 
 tion." 
 
 " Name it," cried Grace, with still increasing color. 
 
 "That you will not expose your health again in going 
 to the church on a Sunday, if it rains." 
 
PRECA UT10N. 345 
 
 " The carriage is so close, Moseley," answered Grace, 
 with a paler cheek than before^ and eyes fixed on the car- 
 pet, "it is impossible I can take cold: you see the earl and 
 countess, and aunt Wilson never miss public worship, when 
 possibly within their power." 
 
 " The earl goes with his wife ; but what becomes of poor 
 me at such times ? " said John, taking her hand and press- 
 ing it kindly. " I like to hear a good sermon, but not in 
 bad weather. You must consent to oblige me, who only 
 live in your presence." 
 
 Grace smiled faintly, as John, pursuing the point, said : 
 
 " What do you say to my condition ? " 
 
 " Well, then, if you wish," replied Grace, without the 
 look of gayety her hopes had first inspired, " I will not go, 
 if it rain." 
 
 John ordered his phaeton, and his wife went to her 
 room to prepare for the trip, and to regret her own reso- 
 lution. 
 
 In the recess of a window, in which bloomed a profusion 
 of exotics, stood the figure of Lady Marian Denbigh, play- 
 ing with a half-blown rose of the richest colors ; and be- 
 fore her, leaning against the angle of the wall, stood her 
 kinsman, the Duke of Derwent. 
 
 "You heard the plan at the breakfast-table," said his 
 grace, "to visit the little falls in the hills. But I suppose 
 you have seen them too often to undergo the fatigue ?" 
 
 " Oh no ! I love that ride dearly, and should wish to ac- 
 company the countess in her first visit to it. I had half a 
 mind to ask George to take me in his phaeton." 
 
 " My curricle would be honored with the presence of 
 Lady Marian Denbigh," cried the duke, with animation, 
 " if she would accept me for her knight on the occasion." 
 
 Marian bowed an assent, in evident satisfaction, as the 
 duke proceeded : 
 
 " But if you take me as your knight I should wear your 
 ladyship's colors ; " and he held out his hand toward the 
 budding rose. 
 
 Lady Marian hesitated a moment looked out at the 
 prospect up at the wall turned, and wondered where 
 her brother was ; and still finding the hand of the duke 
 extended, while his eye rested on her in admiration, she 
 gave him the boon with a cheek that vied with the richest 
 tints of the flower. They separated to prepare, and it 
 was on their return from the falls that the duke seemed 
 uncommonly gay and amusing, and the lady silent with 
 
346 PRECAUTION-. 
 
 her tongue, though her eyes danced in every direction but 
 toward her cousin. 
 
 " Really, my dear Lady Moseley," said the dowager, as, 
 seated by the side of her companion, her eyes roved over 
 the magnificence within, and widely extended domains 
 without, " Emily is well established, indeed better even 
 than my Grace." 
 
 " Grace has an affectionate husband/' replied the other, 
 gravely, "and one that I hope will make her happy." 
 
 " Oh ! no doubt happy ! " said Lady Chatter ton, hastily ; 
 "but. they say Emily has a jointure of twelve thousand a 
 year by-the-by," she added, in a low tone, though no one 
 was near enough to hear what she said, "could not the 
 earl have settled Lumley Castle on her instead of the 
 deanery ? " 
 
 " Upon my word, I never think of such gloomy subjects 
 as provisions for widowhood," cried Lady Moseley. " You 
 have been in Annerdale House is it not a princely man- 
 sion ? " 
 
 " Princely indeed," rejoined the dowager, sighing ; 
 " don't the earl intend increasing the rents of this estate 
 as the leases fall in ? I am told they are very low now ! " 
 
 " I believe not," said the other. " He has enough, and 
 is willing others should prosper. But there is Clara, with 
 her little boy is he not a lovely child ? " cried the grand- 
 mother, rising to take the infant in her arms. 
 
 " Oh ! excessively beautiful ! " said the dowager, look- 
 ing the other way ; and, observing Catherine making a 
 movement toward Lord Henry Stapleton, she called to 
 her : " Lady Herriefield, come this way, my dear I wish 
 to speak to you." 
 
 Kate obeyed, with a sullen pout of her pretty lip, and 
 entered into some idle discussion about a cap, though her 
 eyes wandered round the rooms in listless vacancy. 
 
 The dowager had the curse of bad impressions in youth 
 to contend with, and labored infinitely harder now to make 
 her daughter act right, than formerly she had ever done 
 to make her act wrong. 
 
 . " Here ! uncle Benfield," cried Emily, with a face glow- 
 ing with health and animation, as she approached his sear 
 with a glass in her hands. " Here is the negus you 
 wished : I have made it myself, and you will praise it of 
 course." 
 
 "Oh! my dear lady Pendennyss," said the old gentle- 
 man, rising politely from his seat to receive the beverage ' 
 
PR EC A UT10N. 
 
 347 
 
 " you are putting yourself to a great deal of trouble for 
 an old bachelor like me ; too much, indeed, too much." 
 
 "Old bachelors are sometimes more esteemed than 
 young ones," cried the earl, gayly, joining them in time to 
 hear this speech. "Here is my friend, Mr. Peter Johnson-; 
 who knows when we may dance at his wedding ?" 
 
 "My lord, and my lady, and my honored master," said 
 Peter, gravely, in reply, bowing respectfully where he 
 stood waiting to take his master's glass, " I am past the 
 age to think of taking a wife : I am seventy-three coming 
 next 'lammas, counting by the old style." 
 
 " What do you intend to do with your three hundred a 
 year," said Emily, with a smile, "unless you bestow it on 
 some good woman, for making the evening of your life 
 comfortable ? " 
 
 " My lady hem my lady," said the steward, blushing ; 
 "1 had a little thought, with your kind ladyship's consent, 
 as I have no relations, chick or child in the world, what to 
 do with it." 
 
 " I should be happy to hear your plan," said the count- 
 ess, observing that the steward was anxious to communi- 
 cate something. 
 
 "Why, my lady, if my lord and my honored master's 
 agreeable, I did think of making another codicil to mas- 
 ter's will in order to 'dispose of it." 
 
 "Your master's will," said the earl, laughing ; " why not / 
 to your own, good Peter ? " 
 
 " My honored lord," said the steward, with great humil- 
 ity, " it don't become a poor serving-man like me to make 
 a will." 
 
 " But how will you prove it?" said the earl, kindly, 
 willing to convince him of his error ; " you must be both 
 dead to prove it." 
 
 " Our wills," said Peter, gulping his words, " will be 
 proved on the same day." 
 
 His master looked round at him with great affection, and 
 both the earl and Emily were too much struck to say 
 anything. Peter had, however, the subject too much at 
 heart to abandon it just as he had broken the ice. He 
 anxiously wished for the countess's consent to the scheme, 
 for he would not affront her, even after he was dead. 
 
 " My lady Miss Emmy," said Johnson, eagerly, "my 
 plan is, if my honored master's agreeable to make a cod- 
 icil, and give my mite to a little Lady Emily Denbigh." 
 
 " Oh ! Peter, you and uncle Benfield are both too good," 
 
348 PRECA UTION. 
 
 cried Emily, laughing and blushing, as she hastened to 
 Clara and her mother. 
 
 "Thank you, thank you," cried the delighted earl, fol- 
 lowing his wife with his eyes, and shaking the steward 
 cordially by the hand; "and, if no better expedient be 
 adopted by us, you have full permission to do as you 
 please with your money." 
 
 " Peter," said his master to him in a low tone, " you 
 should never speak of such things prematurely ; now I 
 remember when the Earl of Pendennyss, my nephew, was 
 first presented to me, I was struck with the delicacy and 
 propriety of his demeanor, and the Lady Pendennyss, my 
 niece, too ; you never see anything forward, or Ah ! Em- 
 my dear," said the, old man, tenderly interrupting himself, 
 " you are too good to remember your old uncle," taking 
 one of the fine peaches she handed him from a plate. 
 
 " My lord," said Mr. Haughton to the earl, " Mrs. Ives 
 and myself have had a contest about the comforts of mat- 
 rimony ; she insists she may be quite as happy at Bolton 
 Parsonage as in this noble castle, and with this rich pros- 
 pect in view." 
 
 "I hope," said Francis, "you are not teaching my wife 
 to be discontented with her humble lot if so, both your 
 visit and hers will be an unhappy one." 
 
 " It would be no easy task, if our good friend intended 
 any such thing by his jests," said Clara, smiling. " I know 
 my true interests, I trust, too well to wish to change my 
 fortune." 
 
 "You are right," said Pendennyss ; "it is wonderful how 
 little our happiness depends on a temporal condition. 
 When here, or at Lumley Castle, surrounded by my ten- 
 antry there are, I confess, moments of weakness, in which 
 the loss of my wealth and rank would be missed greatly ; 
 but when on service, subjected to great privations, and 
 surrounded by men superior to me in military rank, who 
 say unto me go, and I go come, and I come I find my 
 enjoyments intrinsically the same." 
 
 "That," said Francis, "may be owing to your lordship's 
 tempered feelings, which have taught you to look beyond 
 this world for pleasures and consolation." 
 
 "It has, doubtless, an effect," said the earl, "but there 
 is no truth of which I arn more fully persuaded, than that 
 our happiness here does not depend upon our lot in life, 
 so we are not suffering for necessaries even changes 
 bring less real misery than they are supposed to do." 
 
PR EC A UTION. 349 
 
 "Doubtless," cried Mr. Haughton, " under the circum- 
 stances, I would not wish to change even with your lord- 
 ship unless, indeed," he continued, with a smile and bow 
 to the countess, " it were the temptation of your lovely 
 wife." 
 
 " You are quite polite," said Emily, laughing, " but I 
 have no desire to deprive Mrs. Haughton of a companion 
 she has made out so well with these twenty years past." 
 
 " Thirty, my lady, if you please." 
 
 " And thirty more, I hope," continued Emily, as a ser- 
 vant announced the several carriages at the door. The 
 younger part of the company now hastened to their dif- 
 ferent engagements, and Chatterton handed Harriet ; John, 
 Grace ; and Pendennyss, Emily, into their respective car- 
 riages ; the duke and Lady Marian following, but at some 
 little distance from the rest of the party. 
 
 As the earl drove from the door, the countess looked 
 up to a window, at which were standing her aunt and 
 Doctor Ives. She kissed her hand to them, with a face 
 in which glowed the mingled expression of innocence, 
 love, and joy. 
 
 Before leaving the park, the party passed Sir Edward, 
 with his wife leaning on one arm and Jane on the other, 
 pursuing their daily walk. The baronet followed the car- 
 riages with his eyes, and exchanged looks of the fondest 
 love with his children, as they drove slowly and respect- 
 fully by him ; and if the glance which followed on Jane 
 did not speak equal pleasure," it surely noted its proper 
 proportion of paternal love. 
 
 "You have much reason to congratulate yourself on the 
 happy termination of your labors," said the doctor, with a 
 smile, to the widow ; " Emily is placed, so far as human 
 foresight can judge, in the happiest of all stations a fe- 
 male can be in ; she is the pious wife of a pious husband, 
 beloved, and deserving of it." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Wilson, drawing back from following 
 the phaeton with her eyes, "they are as happy as this world 
 will admit, and, what is better, they are well prepared to 
 meet any reverse of fortune which may occur, as well as to 
 discharge the duties on which they have entered. I do not 
 think*," continued she, musing, "that Pendennyss can ever 
 doubt the affections of such a woman as Emily." 
 
 "I should think not," said the doctor; "but what can 
 excite such a thought in your breast, and one so much to 
 the prejudice of George ?" 
 
350 PR EC A UTION. 
 
 " The only unpleasant thing I ever observed in him/ 
 said Mrs. Wilson, gravely, " is the suspicion which induced 
 him to adopt the disguise in which he entered our family." 
 
 " He did not adopt it, madam ; chance and circumstances 
 drew it around him accidentally ; and when you consider 
 the peculiar state of his mind from the discovery of his 
 mother's misconduct his own great wealth and rank it 
 is not so surprising that he should yield to a deception 
 rather harmless than injurious." 
 
 " Dr. Ives," said Mrs. Wilson, "is not wont to defend 
 deceit." 
 
 "Nor do I now, madam," replied the doctor, with a 
 smile. " I acknowledge the offence of George, myself, 
 wife, and son. I remonstrated at the time upon principle ; 
 I said the end would not justify the means ; that a depart- 
 ure from ordinary rules of propriety was at all times dan- 
 gerous, and seldom practised with impunity." 
 
 "And you failed to convince your hearers," cried Mrs. 
 Wilson, gayly ; "a novelty in your case, my good rector." 
 
 " I thank you for the compliment," said the doctor. " I 
 did convince them as to the truth of the principle, but the 
 earl contended that his case might make an innocent ex- 
 ception. He had the vanity to think, I believe, that by 
 concealing his real name he injured himself more than any 
 one else, and got rid of the charge in some such way. He 
 is, however, thoroughly convinced of the truth of the po- 
 sition by practice ; his sufferings, growing out of the mis- 
 take of his real character, "and which could not have hap- 
 pened had he appeared in proper person, having been 
 greater than he is ready to acknowledge." 
 
 " If they study the fate of the Donna Julia, and his own 
 weakness," said the widow, " they will have a salutary 
 moral always at hand, to teach them the importance of two 
 cardinal virtues at least obedience and truth." 
 
 "Julia has suffered much," replied the doctor ; "and al- 
 though she has returned to her father, the consequences of 
 her imprudence are likely to continue. When once the 
 bonds of mutual confidence and respect are broken, they 
 may be partially restored, it is true, but never with a 
 warmth and reliance such as existed previously. To return, 
 however, to yourself, do you not feel a sensation of delight 
 at 'the prosperous end of your exertions in behalf of 
 Emily ? " 
 
 " It is certainly pleasant to think we have discharged 
 our duties, and the task is much easier than we are apt to 
 
PRECAUTION-. 351 
 
 suppose," said Mrs. Wilson ; " it is only to commence the 
 foundation, so that it will be able to support the super- 
 structure. I have endeavored to make Emily a Christian. 
 I have endeavored to form such a taste and principles in 
 her, that she would not be apt to admire an improper 
 suitor, and I have labored to prepare her to discharge her 
 continued duties through life, in such a manner and with 
 such a faith, as under the providence of God will result in 
 happiness far exceeding anything she now enjoys. In all 
 these, by the blessing of Heaven, I have succeeded, and 
 had occasion offered, I would have assisted her inexperience 
 through the more delicate decisions of her sex, though in 
 no instance would I attempt to control them." 
 
 " You are right, my dear madam," said the doctor, taking 
 her kindly by the hand, "and had I a daughter, I would 
 follow a similar course. Give her delicacy, religion, and 
 a proper taste, aided by the unseen influence of a prudent 
 parent's care, and the chances of a woman for happiness 
 would be much greater than they are ; and I am entirely 
 of your opinion, * That prevention is at all times bettcK 
 than cure.' " 
 
 THE END. 
 
"This bears some resemblance, Mr. Wilmeter, to an interview in a 
 convent j I am the novice, you the excluded friend, compelled to pay 
 his visit through a grate.' ''The Ways of the Hour, page 90. 
 
THE 
 
 WAYS OF THE HOUR 
 
 A TALE 
 
 BY 
 
 J. FENIMORE COOPER 
 
 " Is this the way 
 I must return to native dust ? ' 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE object of this book is to draw the attention of the 
 reader to some of the social evils that beset us ; more par- 
 ticularly in connection with the administration of criminal 
 justice. So long a time has intervened since the thought 
 occurred, and so many interruptions have delayed the prog- 
 ress of the work, that it is felt the subject has been very 
 imperfectly treated ; but it is hoped that enough has been 
 done to cause a few to reflect on a matter of vital impor- 
 tance ; one that to them may possess the interest of 
 novelty. 
 
 A strange indifference exists as to the composition of 
 the juries. In our view, the institution itself, so admirable 
 in a monarchy, is totally unsuited to a democracy. The 
 very principle that renders it so safe where there is a great 
 central power to resist, renders it unsafe in a state of so- 
 ciety in which few have sufficient resolution to attempt 
 even to resist popular impulses. 
 
 A hundred instances might be given in which the juries 
 of this country are an evil ; one or two of which we will 
 point out. In trials between railroad companies and those 
 who dwell along their lines, prejudice is usually so strong 
 against the former that justice for them is nearly hopeless. 
 In certain parts of the country, the juries are made the in- 
 struments of defeating the claims of creditors who dwell at 
 a distance, and are believed to have interests opposed to 
 the particular community where the debtor resides. This 
 is a most crying evil, and has been the source of many and 
 grievous wrongs. Whenever there is a motive for creating 
 a simulated public opinion, by the united action of several 
 journals, justice is next to hopeless ; such combinations 
 rarely, if ever, occurring in its behalf. In cases that are 
 connected with the workings of political schemes, and not 
 unfrequently in those in which political men are parties to 
 the suits, it is often found that the general prejudices or 
 
4 PREFA CE. 
 
 partialities of trie out-door factions enter the jury-box. 
 This is a most serious evil too ; for, even when the feeling 
 does not produce a direct and flagrant wrong, it is very apt 
 so far to temper the right as to deprive it of much of its 
 virtue. In a country like this, in which party % penetrates 
 to the very bottom of society, the extent of this evil can be 
 known only to those who are brought into close contact 
 with the ordinary workings of the institution. 
 
 In a democracy, proper selections in the material, that 
 are necessary to render juries safe, become nearly impos- 
 sible. Then, the tendency is to the accumulation of power 
 in bodies of men; and in a state of society like our own, 
 the juries get to be much too independent of the opinion 
 of the court. It is precisely in that condition of things in 
 which the influence and authority of the judge guide the 
 juror, and the investigation and substantial power of the 
 juror react on the proceedings of the court, that the great- 
 est benefits have been found to accrue from this institution. 
 The reverse of this state of things will be very likely to 
 produce the greatest amount of evil. 
 
 It is certain that the juries are falling into disrepute 
 throughout the length and breadth of the land. The diffi- 
 culty is to find a substitute. As they are bodies holding 
 the lives, property and character of every member of the 
 community, more or less, in their power, it is not to be 
 supposed that the masses will surrender this important 
 means of exercising their authority voluntarily, or with 
 good will. Time alone can bring reform through the ex- 
 tent of the abuses. 
 
 The writer has not the vanity to suppose that anything 
 contained in this book will produce a very serious impres- 
 sion on the popularity of the jury. Such is not its design. 
 All that is anticipated is to cause a portion of his readers 
 to reflect on the subject ; persons who probably have never 
 yet given it a moment of thought. 
 
 There is a tendency, at the present time, to court change 
 for its own sake. This is erroneously termed a love of 
 reform. Something very like a revolution is going on in 
 our midst, while there is much reason to apprehend that 
 few real grievances are abated ; the spurious too exclu- 
 sively occupying the popular mind, to render easy a just 
 distinction between them. When an American prates 
 about aristocracy, it is pretty safe to set him down as 
 knavish or ignorant. It is purely cant ; and the declaimers 
 would be puzzled to point to a single element of the little 
 
PREFACE. 5 
 
 understood and much decried institution, the country be- 
 ing absolutely without any, unless the enjoyment of the 
 ordinary rights of property can be so considered. But the 
 demagogue must have his war-cry as well as the Indian*; 
 and it is probable he will continue to whoop as long as the 
 country contains minds weak enough to furnish him with 
 dupes. 
 
 COOPERSTOWN, March 12, 1850. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Mar. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed ? 
 Aum. Yea, at all points ; and longs to enter in. 
 
 King Richard II. 
 
 IN one respect, there is a visible improvement in the 
 goodly town of Manhattan, and that is in its architecture. 
 Of its growth, there has never been any question, while 
 many have disputed its pretension to improvement. A 
 vast expansion of mediocrity, though useful and imposing, 
 rarely satisfies either the judgment or the taste ; those who 
 possess these qualities, requiring a nearer approach to 
 what is excellent, than can ever be found beneath the term 
 just mentioned. 
 
 A town which is built of red bricks, that are faced with 
 white marble, the whole garnished with green blinds, can 
 never have but one outward sign that of tawdry vul- 
 garity. But this radical defect is slowly disappearing from 
 the streets of Manhattan ; and those who build are getting 
 to understand that architecture, like statuary, will not ad- 
 mit of strong contrasts in colors. Horace Walpoie tells 
 us of a certain old Lord Pembroke, who blackened the 
 eyes of the gods and goddesses in the celebrated gallery at 
 Wilton, and prided himself on the achievement, as if he 
 had been another Phidias. There have been thousands of 
 those who have labored in the spirit of this Earl of Pem- 
 broke in the streets of all the American towns; but travel- 
 ling, hints, books and example, are slowly effecting a 
 change ; and whole squares may now be seen in which the 
 eye rests with satisfaction on blinds, facings and bricks, all 
 brought to the same pleasing, sober, architectural tint. We 
 regard this as the first step, in advance, that has been made 
 in the right direction, so far as the outward aspect of the 
 
8 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 town is concerned, and look forward, with hope, to the day 
 when Manhattan shall have banished its rag-fair finery al- 
 together, and the place will become as remarkable for the 
 chaste simplicity of its streets, as they have hitherto been 
 for their marked want of taste. 
 
 With this great town, mottled as it is, in people as well 
 as in hues, with its native population collected from all 
 parts of this vast republic, and its European representa- 
 tives amounting to scores of thousands, we shall have much 
 to do in the succeeding pages. Our researches, however, 
 will be bestowed more on things moral than on things 
 physical ; and we shall endeavor to carry the reader with 
 us through scenes that, we regret to say, are far more 
 characteristic than novel. 
 
 In one of the cross streets that communicate with Broad- 
 way and below Canal, stands a dwelling that is obnoxious 
 to all the charges of bad taste to which there has already 
 been allusion, as well as to certain others that have not 
 yet been named, at all. A quarter of a century since, or 
 within the first twenty years of its own existence, the 
 house in question would have been regarded as decidedly 
 patrician, though it is now lost amid the thousands of simi- 
 lar abodes that have arisen since its own construction. 
 There it stands, with its red bricks periodically painted 
 redder ; its marble facings, making a livery of red turned 
 up with white ; its green blinds, its high stoop, its half- 
 buried and low basement, and all its neatness and comfort, 
 notwithstanding its flagrant architectural sins. Into this 
 building we now propose to enter, at the very early hour 
 of eight in the morning. 
 
 The principal floor was divided, as usual, between a dining 
 and a drawing-room, with large communicating doors. 
 This was the stereotyped construction of all Manhattanese 
 dwellings of any pretension, a quarter of a century since ; 
 and that of Mr. Thomas Dunscomb, the owner and occu- 
 pant of the house in question, had been built in rigid con- 
 formity with the fashion of its day. Squire Dunscomb, as 
 this gentleman was termed in all the adjacent country 
 counties, where he was well-known as a reliable and sound 
 legal adviser ; Mr. Thomas Dunscomb, as he was styled by 
 various single ladies, who wondered he never married ; or 
 Tom Dunscomb, as he was familiarly called by a herd of 
 unyoked youths, all of whom were turned of sixty, was a 
 capital fellow, in each of his many characters. As a lawyer, 
 he was as near the top of the bar as a man can be, who never 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. g 
 
 had any pretensions to be an orator, and whose longest ef- 
 fort seldom exceeded half an hour. Should the plan of 
 placing eloquence in hobbles reach our own bar, his habit 
 of condensing, his trick of getting multum in parvo, may yet 
 bring him to the very summit ; for he will have an im- 
 mense advantage over those who, resembling a country 
 buck at a town ball, need the whole field to cut their flour- 
 ishes in. As a man of the world, he was well-bred, though 
 a little cynical, very agreeable, most especially with the 
 ladies, and quite familiar with all the better habits of the 
 best-toned circles of the place. As a boon companion, Tom 
 Dunscomb was an immense favorite, being particularly 
 warm-hearted, and always ready for any extra eating or 
 drinking. In addition to these leading qualities, Dunscomb 
 was known to be rich, having inherited a very tolerable 
 estate, as well as having added much to his means, by a 
 large and lucrative practice. If to these circumstances we 
 add that of a very prepossessing personal appearance, in 
 which age was very green, the reader has all that is neces- 
 sary for an introduction to one of our principal characters. 
 
 Though a bachelor, Mr. Dunscomb did not live alone. 
 He had a nephew and a niece in his family, the orphan 
 children of a sister who had now been dead many years. 
 They bore the name of Wilmeter, which in the family par- 
 lance was almost always pronounced Wilmington. It was 
 Jack Wilmington, and Sally Wilmington, at school, at home, 
 and with all their intimates ; though Mr. John Wilmeter 
 and Miss Sarah Wilmeter were often spoken of in their 
 little out-door world, it being rather an affectation of the 
 time to prove, in this manner, that one retains some knowl- 
 edge of the spelling-book. We shall write the name as it 
 is written by the parties themselves, forewarning the reader 
 that if he desires to pronounce it by the same family 
 standard, he must take the unauthorized spelling as a 
 guide. We own ourselves to a strong predilection for old 
 familiar sounds, as well as old familiar faces. 
 
 At half-past 8 A.M., of a fine morning, late in May, when 
 the roses were beginning to show their tints amid the verd- 
 ure of the leaves in Mr. Dunscomb's yard, the three indi- 
 viduals just mentioned were at the breakfast-table of what 
 it is the fashion of New York to term a dining-room. The 
 windows were open, and a soft and fragrant air filled the 
 apartment. We have said that Mr. Dunscomb was afflu- 
 ent, and he chose to enjoy his means, not a la Manhattan, 
 in idle competition with the nouveaux riches^ but in a more 
 
lo THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 quiet and rational way. His father had occupied lots, 
 " running through," as it is termed; building his house on 
 one street and his stables on the other ; leaving himself a 
 space in the rear of the former, that was prodigious for a 
 town so squeezed into parallelograms of twenty-five feet 
 by a hundred. This open space was of the usual breadth, 
 but it actually measured a hundred and fifty feet in length, 
 an area that would have almost justified its being termed 
 a " park," in the nomenclature of the town. This yard 
 Sarah had caused to be well garnished with shrubbery, 
 and, for its dimensions, it was really a sort of oasis in that 
 wilderness of bricks. 
 
 The family was not alone that morning. A certain Mi- 
 chael Millington was a guest of Jack's, and seemingly quite 
 at home in the little circle. The business of eating and 
 drinking was pretty well through with, though each of the 
 four cups had its remains of tea or coffee, and Sarah sat 
 stirring hers idly, while her soft eyes were turned with in- 
 terest on the countenances of the two young men. The 
 last had a sheet of writing-paper lying between them, and 
 their heads were close together, as both studied that which 
 was written on it in pencil. As for Mr. Dunscomb, him- 
 self, he was fairly surrounded by documents of one sort 
 and another. Two or three of the morning papers, glanced 
 at but not read, lay opened on the floor ; on each side of 
 his plate was a brief, or some lease or re-lease ; while a copy 
 of the new and much-talked-of code was in his hand. As 
 we say in our American English, Mr. Dunscomb was "em- 
 phatically " a common-law lawyer ; and, as our transatlan- 
 tic brethren would remark in their sometime cockney 
 dialect, he was not at all "agreeable " to this great innova- 
 tion on " the perfection of human reason." He muttered 
 occasionally as he read, and now and then he laid down 
 the book, and seemed to muse. All this, however, was 
 quite lost on Sarah, whose soft blue eyes still rested on the 
 interested countenances of the twp young men. At length 
 Jack seized the paper, and wrote a line or two hurriedly, 
 w 7 ith his pencil. 
 
 "There, Mike," he said, in a tone of self-gratulation, " I 
 think that will do ! " 
 
 "It has one merit of a good toast," answered the friend, 
 a little doubtingly ; " it is sententious." 
 
 "As all toasts ought to be. If we are to have this din- 
 ner, and the speeches, and all the usual publications after- 
 ward, I choose that we should appear with some little credit. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. u 
 
 Pray, sir," raising his eyes to his uncle, and his voice to 
 correspond, " what do you think of it, now ? " 
 
 " Just as I always have, Jack. It will never do at all. 
 Justice would halt miserably under such a system of prac- 
 tice. Some of the forms of pleadings are infernal, if plead- 
 ings they can be called at all. I detest even the names 
 they give their proceedings complaints and answers ! " 
 
 " They are certainly not as formidable to the ear," re- 
 turned Jack, a little saucily, "as rebutters and sur-rebut- 
 ters. But I was not thinking of the code, sir; I was asking 
 your opinion of my new toast." 
 
 " Even a fee could not extract an opinion, unless I heard 
 it read." 
 
 " Well, sir, here it is : * The Constitution of the United 
 States ; the palladium of our civil and religious liberties.' 
 Now I do not think I can much better that, Uncle Tom." 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear you say so, Jack." 
 
 "Why so, sir ? I'm sure it is good American sentiment ; 
 and what is more, it has a flavor of the old English princi- 
 ples that you so much admire, about it, too. Why do you 
 dislike it, sir ?" 
 
 " For several reasons it would be commonplace, which 
 a toast should never be, were it true ; but there happens 
 not to be a word of truth in your sentiment, sonorous as it 
 may sound in your ears." 
 
 " Not true ! Does not the constitution guarantee to the 
 citizen religious liberty ? " 
 
 "Not a bit of it." 
 
 " You amaze me, sir ! Why, here, just listen to its lan- 
 guage, if you please." 
 
 Hereupon Jack opened a book, and read the clause on 
 which he relied to confute one of the ablest constitutional 
 lawyers and clearest heads in America. Not that Mr. Duns- 
 comb was what is called an "expounder," great or small ; 
 but he never made a mistake on the subject in hand, and 
 had often caused the best of the " expounders " to retrace 
 their steps. He was an original thinker, but of the safest 
 and most useful sort ; one who distinguished between the 
 institutions of England and America, while he submitted to 
 the fair application of minor principles that are so common 
 to both. As for his nephew, he knew no more of the great 
 instrument he held in his hand, than he had gleaned from 
 ill-digested newspaper remarks, vapid speeches in Congress, 
 and the erroneous notions that float about the country, 
 coming from " nobody knows whom," and leading literally 
 
12 THE WAYS OF THE HOl r R. 
 
 to nothing. The ignorance that prevails on such subjects 
 is really astounding, when one remembers the great num- 
 ber of battles that are annually fought over this much- 
 neglected compact. 
 
 "Ay, here is the clause just please to hear it, sir," con- 
 tinued Jack. " ' Congress shall make no law respecting 
 an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exer- 
 cise thereof ; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of 
 the press ; or the right of the people peaceably to assem- 
 ble, and to petition the government fora redress of griev- 
 ances.' There, I think that will go far toward justifying 
 the whole toast, Mike." 
 
 This was said a little triumphantly, and not a little con- 
 fidently. 
 
 The only answer Mr. Dunscomb condescended to make 
 was an expressive " Umph ! " As for Michael Millington, 
 he was a little timid about expressing an opinion, and that 
 for two reasons ; he had often experienced Mr. Dunscomb's 
 superior wisdom, and he knew that Sarah heard all that 
 passed. 
 
 " I wish your uncle would lay aside the code for a min- 
 ute, Jack, and let us know what he thinks of our authori- 
 ties," said Michael, in an undertone. 
 
 " Come, Uncle Tom," cried the more hardy nephew 
 " come out of your reserve, and face the constitution of 
 your country. Even Sarah can see that, for once, we are 
 right, and that my toast is of proof." 
 
 " It is a very good proof-s/ieet, Jack, not only of your 
 own mind, but of half the minds in the country. Ranker 
 nonsense cannot, be uttered, however, than to say that the 
 Constitution of the United States is the palladium of any- 
 thing in which civil or religious liberty is concerned." 
 
 " You do not dispute the fidelity of my quotation, sir ? " 
 
 "By no means. The clause you read is a very useless 
 exhibition of certain facts that existed just as distinctly be- 
 fore it was framed, as they do to-day. Congress had no 
 power to make an established religion, or abridge the free- 
 dom of speech, or that of the press, or the right of the 
 people to petition, before that amendment was introduced, 
 and consequently the clause itself is supererogatory. You 
 take nothing by your motion, Jack." 
 
 " I do not understand you, sir. To me, it seems that I 
 have the best of it." 
 
 " Congress has no power but what has been conceded to 
 it directly, or by necessary connection. Now there hap- 
 
THE IVAYS OF THE* HOUR, 13 
 
 pens to be nothing said about granting any such authority 
 to Congress, and consequently the prohibition is not 
 necessary. But, admitting that Congress did really pos- 
 sess the power to establish a religion previously to the 
 adoption of this amendment, the constitution would not 
 prove a palladium to religious liberty, unless it prohibited 
 everybody else from meddling with the opinions of the 
 citizen. Any State of this Union that pleases, may estab- 
 lish a religion, and compel its citizens to support it." 
 
 " Why, sir, but our own State constitution has a provision 
 similar to this, to prevent it." 
 
 " Very true, but our own State constitution can be al- 
 tered in this behalf, without asking permission of any one 
 but our own people. I think that even Sarah will under- 
 stand that the United States is no palladium of religious lib- 
 erty, if it cannot prevent a State from establishing Moham- 
 medanism, as soon as a few forms can be complied with." 
 
 Sarah colored, glanced timidly at Michael Millington, 
 but made no reply. She did not understand much of what 
 she had just heard, though rather an intelligent girl, but 
 had hoped that Jack and his friend were nearer right than 
 was likely to turn out to be the case. Jack, himself, being 
 a young limb of the law, comprehended what his uncle 
 meant, and had the grace to color, too, at the manner in 
 which he had manifested his ignorance of the great national 
 compact. With a view to relieve himself from his dilem- 
 ma, he cried, with a ready dexterity 
 
 " Well, since this won't do, I must try the jury. ' The 
 trial by jury, the palladium of our liberties.' How do you 
 like that, sir ? " 
 
 " Worse than the other, boy. God protect the country 
 that has no better shield against wrong than that which a 
 jury can hold before it." 
 
 Jack looked at Michael, and Michael looked at Jack ; 
 while Sarah looked at both in turn. 
 
 "You surely will not deny, sir, that the trial by jury is 
 one of the most precious of the gifts received from our an- 
 cestors ? " said the first, a little categorically, Sarah bright- 
 ening up at this question, as if she fancied that her brother 
 had now got on solid ground. 
 
 "Your question cannot be answered in a breath, Jack," 
 returned the uncle. "The trial by jury was undoubtedly 
 a most precious boon bestowed on a people among whom 
 there existed an hereditary ruling power, on the abuses of 
 which it was often a most salutary check." 
 
14 THE H*AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Well, sir, is it not the same check here, assuring to the 
 citizens independent justice ?" 
 
 " Who compose the ruling power in America, Jack ? " 
 
 " The people, to be sure, sir." 
 
 " And who the jurors ? " 
 
 " The people, too, I suppose," answered the nephew, 
 hesitating a little before he replied. 
 
 " Well, let us suppose a citizen has a conflict of rights 
 with the public, which is the government, who will com- 
 pose the tribunal that is to decide the question ? " 
 
 "A jury, to be sure, sir. The trial by jury is guaran- 
 teed by the constitution to us all." 
 
 " Ay," said Mr. Dunscomb, smiling, "much as are our 
 religious and political liberties. But according to your 
 own admission, this is very much like making one of the 
 parties a judge in his own case. A insists that he has a 
 right to certain lands, for instance, which the public claims 
 for itself. In such a case, part of the public compose the 
 tribunal." 
 
 " But is it not true, Mr. Dunscomb," put in Millington, 
 " that the popular prejudice is usually against government, 
 in all cases with private citizens ? " 
 
 Sarah's face looked brighter now than ever, for she felt 
 sure that Mike, as her brother familiarly called his friend, 
 had asked a most apposite question. 
 
 " Certainly ; you are right as to particular sets of cases, 
 but wrong as to others. In a commercial town like this, 
 the feeling is against government in all cases connected 
 with the collection of the revenue, I admit ; and you will 
 see that the fact makes against the trial by jury in another 
 form, since a judge ought to be strictly impartial ; above 
 all prejudice whatever." 
 
 "But, uncle, a judge and a jury are surely very different 
 tilings," cried Sarah, secretly impelled to come to Michael's 
 rescue, though she scarce knew anything of the merits of 
 the subject. 
 
 " Quite right, my dear," the uncle answered, nodding 
 his head kindly, casting a glance at his niece that caused 
 her to blush under the consciousness of being fully under- 
 stood in her motives, if not in her remark. " Most pro- 
 foundly right ; a judge and a juror ought to be very differ- 
 ent things. What I most complain of is the fact that the 
 jurors are fast becoming judges. Nay, by George, they 
 are getting to be legislators, making the law as well as in- 
 terpreting it. How often does it happen, nowadays, that 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 15 
 
 
 
 the court tell the jury that such is the law, and the jury 
 comes in with a verdict which tells the court that such is 
 not the law ? This is an every-day occurrence, in the actual 
 state of public opinion." 
 
 " But the court will order a new trial, if the verdict is 
 against law and evidence," said Michael, determined that 
 Sarah should be sustained. 
 
 " Ay, and another jury will be quite likely to sustain the 
 old one. No no the trial by jury is no more a palla- 
 dium of our liberties than the constitution of the United 
 States." 
 
 " Who, or what is, then, sir ? " demanded Jack. 
 
 " God ! Yes, the Deity, in his Divine Providence ; if any- 
 thing is to save us. It may not be his pleasure to let us 
 perish, for it would seem that some great plan for the ad- 
 vancement of civilization is going on, and it may be a part 
 of it to make us important agents. All things regarded, 
 I am much inclined to believe such is the fact. But, did 
 the result depend on us, miserable instruments in the all- 
 mighty hands as we are, woful would be the end ! " 
 
 " You do not look at things cmileur de rose, Uncle Tom," 
 Sarah smilingly observed. 
 
 " Because I am not a young lady of twenty, who is well 
 satisfied with herself and her advantages. There is but 
 one character for which I have a greater contempt than 
 that of a senseless grumbler, who regards all things a tort 
 et a travers, and who cries, there is nothing good in the 
 world." 
 
 "And what is the exception, sir?" 
 
 "The man who is puffed up with conceit and fancies 
 all around him perfection, when so much of it is the re- 
 verse; who ever shouts * Liberty,' in the midst of the direst 
 oppression." 
 
 "But direst oppression is certainly no term to be ap- 
 plied to anything in New York ! " 
 
 " You think not ? What would you say to a state of so- 
 ciety in which the law is available to one class of citizens 
 only, in the way of compulsion, and not at air, in the way 
 of protection ? " 
 
 " I do not understand you, sir ; here, it is our boast that 
 all are protected alike." 
 
 "Ay, so far as boasting goes, we are beyond reproach. 
 But what are the facts ? Here is a man that owes money. 
 The law is appealed to, to compel payment. Verdict is 
 rendered, and execution issued. The sheriff enters his 
 
16 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 house, and sells his very furniture, to extort the amount 
 of the debt from him." 
 
 " That is his misfortune, sir. Such things must happen 
 to all debtors who cannot, or will not, pay." 
 
 "If this were true, I should have nothing to say. Im- 
 agine this very debtor to be also a creditor ; to have debts 
 due to him, of many times the sums that he owes, but 
 which the law will not aid him in collecting. For him the 
 law is all oppression no protection." 
 
 " But, surely, Uncle Tom, nothing of the sort exists 
 here ! " 
 
 " Surely, Miss Sarah Wilmeter, such things do exist 
 here in practice, whatever may be the theory on the sub- 
 ject ; what is more, they exist under the influence of facts 
 that are directly connected with the working of the insti- 
 tutions. My case is not suppositious at all, but real. 
 Several landlords have quite recently felt all the rigors of 
 the law as debtors, when it was a dead letter to them, in 
 their character of creditors. This has actually happened, 
 and that more than once ; and it might happen a hundred 
 times, were the landlords more in debt. In the latter ca^e 
 it would be an every-day occurrence." 
 
 " What, sir," exclaimed Michael Millington ; "the law 
 enforce, when it will not protect ?" 
 
 "That it does, young man, in many interests that I 
 could point out to you. But here is as flagrant a case of 
 unmitigated tyranny as can be cited against any country 
 in Christendom. A citizen is sold out of house and home, 
 under process of law, for debt ; and when he asks for the 
 use of the same process of law to collect his undeniable 
 dues, it is, in effect, denied him. And this among the peo- 
 ple who boast that their independence is derived from a 
 spirit that would not be taxed ! A people who are hourly 
 shouting hosannas in honor of their justice ! " 
 
 " It cannot be, Uncle Tom, that this is done, in terms," 
 cried the astounded nephew. 
 
 " If, by terms, you mean professions of justice, and lib- 
 erty, and equal rights, they are fair enough ; in all those 
 particulars we are irreproachable. As 'professors^ no peo- 
 ple can talk more volubly or nearer to the point I allude 
 only to facts." 
 
 " But these facts maybe explained qualified are not 
 as flagrant as they seem under your statement ?" 
 
 " In what manner?" 
 
 " Why, sir, this is but a temporary evil, perhaps." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 1} 
 
 " It has lasted not days, nor weeks, nor months, but 
 years. What is more, it is an evil that has not occurred 
 in a corner, where it might be overlooked ; but it exists 
 within ten miles of your capital, in plain sight of your 
 legislators, and owes its impunity solely to their profound 
 deference to votes. In a word, it is a part of the political 
 system under which we live ; and that far more so than 
 any disposition to tyranny that might happen to manifest 
 itself in an individual king." 
 
 " Do not the tenants who refuse to pay fancy that their 
 landlords have no right to their estates, and does not the 
 whole difficulty arise from misapprehension ?" asked Mi 
 chael, a little timidly. 
 
 " What would that have to do with the service of proc- 
 ess, if it were true ? When a sheriff's officer comes 
 among these men, they take his authority from him, and 
 send him away empty. Rights are to be determined only 
 by the law, since they are derived from the law ; and he 
 who meets the law at the threshold, and denies it entrance, 
 can never seriously pretend that he resists because the 
 other party has no claims. No, no, young gentleman 
 this is all a fetch. The evil is of years' standing ; it is of 
 the character of the direst oppression, and of oppression 
 of the worst sort, that of many oppressing a few ; cases in 
 which the sufferer is cut off from sympathy, as you can 
 see by the apathy of the community, which is singing 
 hosannas to its own perfection, while this great wrong is 
 committed under its very nose. Had a landlord oppressed 
 his tenants, their clamor would have made itself heard 
 throughout the land. The worst feature in the case is 
 that which connects the whole thing so very obviously 
 with the ordinary working of the institutions. If it were 
 merely human covetousness struggling against the institu- 
 tions, the last might prove the strongest ; but it is cupidity 
 of the basest and most transparent nature, using the insti- 
 tutions themselves to effect its purpose." 
 
 " I am surprised that something was not done by the last 
 convention to meet the evil ! " said Jack, who was much 
 struck with the enormity of the wrong, placed before his 
 eyes in its simplest form, as it had been by his direct- 
 minded and clear-headed kinsman. 
 
 " That is because you do not know what a convention 
 has got to be. Its object is to push principles into im- 
 practicable extremes, under the silly pretension of prog- 
 ress, and not to abate evils. I made a suggestion myself 
 
 2 
 
1 8 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 to certain members of that convention, which, in my poor 
 judgment, would have effectually cured this disease ; but 
 no member had the courage to propose it. Doubtless it 
 would have been useless had it been otherwise." 
 
 " It was worth the trial, if such were likely to be the re- 
 sult. What was your plan, sir ? " 
 
 " Simply to disfranchise any district in which the law 
 could not be enforced by means of combinations of its 
 people. On application to the highest court in the State, 
 an order might be granted that no polls should be held in 
 one or more towns or counties, in which combinations ex- 
 isted of a force sufficient to prevent the laws from being 
 put in force. Nothing could be more just than to say that 
 men who will not obey the law shall not have a voice in 
 making it, and to me it really seems that some such pro- 
 vision would be the best possible expedient to check this 
 growing evil. It would be choking the enemy with his 
 own food." 
 
 " Why was it not done, sir ? " 
 
 "Simply because our sages were speculating on votes, 
 and not on principles. They will talk to you like so 
 many books touching the vices of all foreign systems, 
 but are ready to die in defence of the perfection of their 
 own." 
 
 " Why was it necessary to make a new constitution the 
 other day," asked Sarah, innocently, "if the old one was 
 so very excellent ? " 
 
 " Sure enough the answer might puzzle wiser heads 
 than yours, child. Perfection requires a great deal of 
 tinkering in this country. We scarcely adopt one plan 
 that shall secure everybody's rights and liberties, than an- 
 other is broached to secure some newly-discovered rights 
 and liberties. With the dire example before them, of the 
 manner in which the elective franchise is abused, in this 
 anti-rent movement, the sages of the land have just given 
 to the mass the election of judges as beautiful a scheme 
 for making the bench coalesce with the jury-box as human 
 ingenuity could invent ! " 
 
 As all present knew that Mr. Dunscomb was bitterly 
 opposed to the new constitution, no one was surprised at 
 this last assertion. It did create wonder, however, in the 
 minds of all three of the ingenuous young persons, when 
 the fact an undeniable and most crushing one it is, too, 
 so far as any high pretension to true liberty is concerned 
 was plainly laid before them, that citizens were to be found 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. ig 
 
 in New York against whom the law was rigidly enforced, 
 while it was powerless in their behalf. We have never known 
 this aspect of the case presented to any mind, that it did 
 not evidently produce a deep impression, for the moment ; 
 but, alas ! " what is everybody's business is nobody's busi- 
 ness," and few care for the violation of a principle when 
 the wrong does not affect themselves. These young folk 
 were, like all around them, unconscious even that they 
 dwelt in a community in which so atrocious a wrong was 
 daily done, and, for the moment, were startled when the 
 truth was placed before their eyes. The young men, near 
 friends, and, by certain signs, likely to be even more close- 
 ly united, were much addicted to speculating on the course 
 of events, as they perceived them to be tending in other 
 countries. Michael Millington, in particular, was a good 
 deal of a general politician, having delivered several ora- 
 tions, in which he had laid some stress on the greater hap- 
 piness of the people of this much favored land over those 
 of all other countries, and especially on the subject of 
 equal rights. He was too young, yet, to have learned the 
 wholesome truth, that equality of rights, in practice, exists 
 nowhere ; the ingenuity and selfishness of man finding the 
 means to pervert to narrow purposes the most cautious 
 laws that have ever been adopted in furtherance of a prin- 
 ciple that would seem to be so just Nor did he know that 
 the Bible contains all the wisdom and justice, transmitted 
 as divine precepts, that are necessary to secure to every 
 man all that it is desirable to possess here below. 
 
 The conversation was terminated by the entrance of a 
 fourth colloquist, in the person of Edward McBrain, M.D., 
 who was not only the family physician, but the bosom 
 friend of the lawyer. The two liked each other on the 
 principle of loving their opposites. One was a bachelor, 
 the other was about to marry his third wife ; one was a lit- 
 tle of a cynic, the other much of a philanthropist ; one 
 distrustful of human nature, the other too confiding ; one 
 cautious to excess, the 'other absolutely impetuous, when- 
 ever anything strongly interested his feelings. They were 
 alike in being Manhattanese by birth, somewhat a novelty 
 in a New Yorker ; in being equally graduates of Columbia, 
 and classmates ; in a real love of their fellow-creatures ; in 
 goodness of heart and in integrity. Had either been want- 
 ing in these last great essentials, the other could not nave 
 endured him. 
 
20 THE W 'AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 O change ! stupendous change ! 
 
 There lies the soulless clod ; 
 The sun eternal breaks 
 The new immortal wakes 
 
 Wakes with his God. MRS. SOUTHEY. 
 
 As Dr. McBrain entered the room, the two young men 
 and Sarah, after saluting him like very familiar acquaint- 
 ances, passed out into what the niece called her "garden." 
 Here she immediately set her scissors at work in clipping 
 roses, violets, and other early flowers, to make bouquets 
 for her companions. That of Michael was much the largest 
 and most tasteful ; but this her brother did not remark, 
 as he was in a brown study, reflecting on the singularity of 
 the circumstance that the Constitution of the United States 
 should not be the " palladium of his political and religious 
 liberties." Jack saw, for the first time in his life, that a 
 true knowledge of the constitution was not to be found 
 floating about in society, and that " there was more in the 
 nature of the great national compact than was dreamed of 
 in his philosophy." 
 
 "Well, Ned," said the lawyer, holding out his hand 
 kindly, but not rising from his chair, " what has brought 
 you here so early ? Has old Martha spoiled your tea ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; I have paid this visit, as it might be, pro- 
 fessionally." 
 
 " Professionally ! I never was better in my life ; and set 
 you down as a false prophet, or no doctor, if you like that 
 better, for the gout has not even given a premonitory hint, 
 this spring;. and I hope, now I have given up Sauterne 
 altogether, and take but four glasses of Madeira at din- 
 ner " 
 
 "Two too many." 
 
 "I'll engage to drink nothing but sherry, Ned, if you'll 
 consent to four, and that without any of those forbidding 
 looks." 
 
 " Agreed ; sherry has less acidity, and consequently less 
 gout, than Madeira. But my business here this morning, 
 though professional, does not relate to my craft, but to 
 your own." 
 
 " To the law ? Now I take another look at you, I do see 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HO UK. 21 
 
 trouble in your physiognomy ; am I not to draw the mar- 
 riage settlements, after all ?" 
 
 " There are to be none. The new law gives a woman the 
 entire control of all her property, they tell me, and I sup- 
 pose she will not expect the control of mine." 
 
 " Umph ! Yes, she ought to be satisfied with things as 
 they are, for she will remain mistress of all her cups and 
 saucers, even ay, and of her houses and lands in the bar- 
 gain. Hang me, if I would ever marry, when the contract 
 is so one-sided." 
 
 "You never did, when the contract was t'other sided. 
 For my part, Tom, I'm disposed to leave a woman mistress 
 of her own. The experiment is worth the trial, if it be 
 only to see the use she will make of her money." 
 
 " You are always experimenting among the women, and 
 are about to try a third wife. Thank Heaven, I've got on 
 sixty years quite comfortably, without even one." 
 
 " You have only half lived your life. No old bachelor 
 meaning a man after forty knows anything of real happi- 
 ness. It is necessary to be married, in order to be truly 
 happy." 
 
 "I wonder you did not add, 'two or three times.' But 
 'you may make this new contract with greater confidence 
 than either of the others. I suppose you have seen this 
 new divorce project that is, or lias been, before the legis- 
 lature ? " 
 
 " Divorce ! I trust no such foolish law will pass. This 
 calling marriage a * contract,' too, is what I never liked. 
 It is something far more than a ' contract,' in my view of 
 the matter." 
 
 " Still, that is what the law considers it to be. Get out 
 of this new scrape, Ned, if you can with any honor, and 
 remain an independent freeman for the rest of your days. 
 I dare say the widow could soon find some other amorous 
 youth to place her affections on. It matters not much 
 whom a woman loves, provided she love. Of this I'm cer- 
 tain, from seeing the sort of animals so many do love." 
 
 " Nonsense ; a bachelor talking of love, or matrimony, 
 usually makes a zany of himself. It is -terra incognita to 
 you, my boy, and the less you say about it the better. You 
 are the only human being, Tom, I ever met with, who has 
 not, some time or other, been in love. I really believe you 
 never knew what the passion is." 
 
 " I- fell in love, early in life, with a certain my lord Coke, 
 and have remained true to my first attachment Besides, 
 
22 THE WA YS OF THE HOUR, 
 
 I saw I had an intimate friend who would do all the mar- 
 rying that was necessary for two, or even for three ; so I 
 determined, from the first, to remain single. A man has 
 only to be firm, and he may set Cupid at defiance. It is 
 not so with women, I do believe ; it is part of their nature 
 to love, else would no woman admire you, at your time of 
 life." 
 
 "I don't know that I am by no means sure of that. 
 Each time I had the misfortune to become a widower I 
 was just as determined to pass the remainder of my days 
 in reflecting on the worth of her I had lost, as you can be 
 to remain a bachelor ; but somehow or other, I don't pre 
 tend to account for it, not a year passed before I have 
 found inducements to enter info new engagements. It is 
 a blessed thing, is matrimony, and I am resolved not to 
 continue single an hour longer than is necessary." 
 
 Dunscomb laughed out at the earnest manner in which 
 his friend spoke, though conversations like this we have 
 been relating were of frequent occurrence between them. 
 
 "The same old sixpence, Ned ! A Benedict as a boy, a 
 Benedict as a man, and a Benedict as a dotard - 
 
 " Dotard ! My good fellow, let me tell you - 
 
 " Poh ! I don't desire to hear it. But as you came on 
 business connected with the law, and that business is not a 
 marriage settlement, what is it ? Does old Kingsborough 
 maintain his right to the Harlem lot ?" 
 
 "No, he has given the claim up at last. My business, 
 Tom, is of a very different nature. What are we coming 
 to, and what is to be the end of it all ? " 
 
 As the doctor looked far more than he expressed, Duns- 
 comb was struck with his manner. The Siamese twins 
 scarce understand each other's impulses and wishes better 
 than these two men comprehended each other's feelings ; 
 and Tom saw at once that Ned was now very much in 
 earnest. 
 
 "Coming to?" repeated Dunscomb. "Do you mean 
 the new code, or the * Woman-hold-the-Purse-Law,' as I 
 call it ? I don't believe you look far enough ahead to 
 foresee all the damnable consequences of an elective 
 judiciary." 
 
 " It is not that this or that I do not mean codes, con- 
 stitutions, or pin money. What is the country coming to, 
 Tom Dunscomb that is the question, I ask ?" 
 
 " Well, and has the country nothing to do with constitu- 
 tions, codes, and elective judges ? I can tell you, Master 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 23 
 
 Ned McBrain, M.D., that if the patient is to be saved at 
 all, it must be by means of the judiciary, and I do not 
 like the advice that has just been called in." 
 
 " You are a croaker. They tell me the new judges are 
 reasonably good." 
 
 " ' Reasonably ' is an expressive word. The new judges 
 are 0A/ judges, in part, and in so much they do pretty well, 
 by chance. Some of the new judges are excellent but 
 one of the very best men on the whole bench was run 
 against one of the worst men who could have been put in 
 his place. At the next heat I fear the bad fellow will get 
 the track. If you do not mean what I have mentioned, 
 what do you mean ? " 
 
 "I mean the increase of crime the murders, arsons, 
 robberies, and other abominations that seem to take root 
 among us, like so many exotics transplanted to a genial 
 soil." 
 
 " ' Exotics ' and ' genial ' be hanged ! Men are alike 
 everywhere. No one but a fool ever supposed that a re- 
 public is to stand, or fall, by its virtue." 
 
 "Yet, the common opinion is that such must be the final 
 test of our institutions." 
 
 " Jack has just been talking nonsense on this subject, 
 and now j0 must come to aid him. But, what has your 
 business with me, this morning, to do with the general 
 depreciation in morals?" 
 
 "A great deal, as you will allow, when you come to 
 hear my story." 
 
 Dr. McBrain then proceeded forthwith to deliver him- 
 self of the matter which weighed so heavily on his mind. 
 He was the owner of a small place in an adjoining 
 county, where it was his custom to pass as much time, dur- 
 ing the pleasant months, as a very extensive practice in 
 town would allow. This was not much, it is true, though 
 the worthy physician so contrived matters, that his visits 
 to Timbully, as the place was called, if not long, were tol- 
 erably numerous. A kind-hearted, as well as a reasonably- 
 affluent man, he never denied his professional services to 
 country neighbors, who eagerly asked his advice whenever 
 there was need of it. This portion of the doctor's practice 
 flourished on two accounts one being his known skill, 
 and the other his known generosity. In a word, Dr. Mc- 
 Brain never received any compensation for his advice 
 from any in the immediate neighborhood of his country 
 residence. This rendered him exceedingly popular ; and 
 
24 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 he might have been sent to Albany, but for a little 
 cold water that was thrown on the project by a shrewd 
 patriot, who suggested that while the physician was attend* 
 ing to affairs of state he could not be administering to the 
 ailings of his Timbuliy neighbors. This may have checked 
 the doctor's advancement, but it did not impair his popu- 
 larity. 
 
 Now, it happened that the bridegroom-expectant had 
 been out to Timbuliy, a distance of less than fifteen miles 
 from his house in Bleecker Street, with a view to order 
 matters for the reception of the bride, it being the inten- 
 tion of the couple that were soon to be united to pass a 
 few days there, immediately after the ceremony was per- 
 formed. It was while at his place, attending to this most 
 important duty, that an express came from the county- 
 town, requiring his presence before the coroner, where he 
 was expected to give his evidence as a medical man. It 
 seems that a house had been burned, and its owners, an 
 aged couple, had been burned in it. The remains of the 
 bodies had been found, and an inquest was about to be 
 held on them. This was pretty much all that the messen- 
 ger could tell, though he rather thought that it was sus- 
 pected the house had been set on fire, and the old people, 
 consequently, murdered. 
 
 As a matter of course, Dr. McBrain obeyed the sum- 
 mons. A county town, in America, is often little more 
 than a hamlet, though in New York they are usually places 
 of some greater pretensions. The State has now near a 
 dozen incorporated cities, with their mayors and aldermen, 
 and, with one exception, we believe these are all county 
 towns. Then come the incorporated villages, in which 
 New York is fast getting to be rich ; places containing from 
 one to six or seven thousand souls, and which, as a rule, 
 are steadily growing into respectable provincial towns. 
 The largest of these usually contain " the county build- 
 ings," as it is the custom to express it. But, in the older 
 counties, immediately around the great commercial capital 
 of the entire republic, these large villages do not always 
 exist ; or, when they do exist, are not sufficiently central 
 to meet the transcendental justice of democratic equality 
 a quality that is sometimes of as exacting pretension as 
 of real imbecility ; as witness the remarks of Mr. Duns- 
 comb, in our opening chapter. 
 
 The county buildings of happen to stand in a small 
 
 village, or what is considered a small village, in the lower 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR, 25 
 
 part of the State. As the events of this tale are so recent, 
 and the localities so familiar to many persons, we choose 
 to call this village "Biberry," and the county "Dukes." 
 Such was once the name of a New York county, though 
 the appellation has been dropped, and this not from any 
 particular distaste for the strawberry leaves ; " Kings," 
 " Queens," and " Duchess " having been wisely retained 
 wisely, as names should be as rarely changed as public 
 convenience will allow. 
 
 Dr. McBrain found the village of Biberry in a high state 
 of excitement ; one, indeed, of so intense a nature as to be 
 far from favorable to the judicial inquiry that was then 
 going on in the court-house. The old couple who were 
 the sufferers in this affair had been much respected by all 
 who knew them ; he as a commonplace, well-meaning man, 
 of no particular capacity, and she a's a managing, discreet, 
 pious woman, whose greatest failing was a neatness that 
 was carried somewhat too near to ferocity. Nevertheless, 
 Mrs. Goodwin was, generally, even more respected than 
 her husband, for she had the most mind, transacted most 
 of the business of the family, and was habitually kind and 
 attentive to every one who entered her dwelling ; provided, 
 always, that they wiped their feet on her mats, of which it 
 was necessary to pass no less' than six before the little 
 parlor was reached, and did not spit on her carpet, or did 
 not want any of her money. This popularity added greatly 
 to the excitement : men, and women also, commonly feel- 
 ing a stronger desire to investigate wrongs done to those 
 they esteem, than to investigate wrongs done to those con- 
 cerning whom they are indifferent. 
 
 Dr. McBrain found the charred remains of this unfort- 
 unate couple laid on a table in the court-house, the coro- 
 ner in attendance, and a jury impanelled. Much of the 
 evidence concerning the discovery of the fire had been 
 gone through with, and was of a very simple character. 
 Some one who was stirring earlier than common had seen 
 the house in a bright blaze, had given the alarm, and had 
 preceded the crowd from the village on the road to the 
 burning dwelling. The Goodwins had resided in a neat, 
 retired cottage, at the distance of near two miles from 
 Biberry, though in sight from the village ; and by the 
 time trie first man from the latter reached the spot the 
 roof had fallen in, and the materials were mostly con- 
 sumed. A dozen, or more, of the nearest neighbors were 
 collected around the ruins, and some articles of household 
 
26 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 furniture had been saved ; but, on the whole, it was re 
 garded as one of the most sudden and destructive fires 
 ever known in that part of the country. When- the engine 
 arrived from the village it played briskly on the fire, and 
 was the means of soon reducing all within the outer walls, 
 which were of stone, to a pile of blackened and smouldering 
 wood. It was owing to this circumstance that any portion 
 of the remains of the late owners of the house had been 
 found, as was done in the manner thus described, in his 
 testimony, by Peter Bacon, the person who had first given 
 the alarm in Biberry. 
 
 "As soon as I ever seed it was Peter Goodwin's house 
 that made the light," continued the intelligent witness, in 
 the course of his examination. " I guv' the alarm, and 
 started off on the run, to see what I could do. By the 
 time I got to the top of Brudler's Hill I was fairly out of 
 breath, I can tell you, Mr. Coroner and Gentlemen of the 
 Jury, and so I was obliged to pull up a bit. This guv' the 
 fire a so much better sweep, and when I reached the spot, 
 there was little chance for doing much good. We got out a 
 chest of drawers, and the young woman who boarded with 
 the Goodwins was helped down out of the window, and 
 most of her clothes, I b'lieve, was saved, so far as I know." 
 
 " Stop," interrupted the coroner ; "there was a young 
 woman in the house, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes ; what I call a young woman, or a gal like ; though 
 other some calls her a young woman. Waal, she was got 
 out ; and her clothes was got out ; but nobody could get 
 out the old folks. As soon as the ingyne come up we 
 turned on the water, and that put out the fire about the 
 quickest. Arter that we went to diggin', and soon found 
 what folks call the remains, though to my notion there is 
 little enough on 'em that is left." 
 
 'You dug out the remains," said the coroner, writing; 
 " in what state did you find them ? " 
 
 " In what I call a pretty poor state ; much as you see 
 'em there, on the table." 
 
 " What has become of the young lady you have men- 
 tioned?" inquired the coroner, who, as a public function- 
 ary, deemed it prudent to put all of the sex into the same 
 general category. 
 
 " I can't tell you, squire ; I never see'd her arter she was 
 got out of the window." 
 
 " Do you mean that she was the hired-girl of the family 
 or had the lady no help ? " 
 
THE WAYS Or THE HO UK. 27 
 
 " I kinder think she was a boarder, like ; one that paid 
 her keepin'," answered the witness, who was not a person 
 to draw very nice distinctions, as the reader will have no 
 difficulty in conceiving from his dialect. " It seems to me 
 I hear'n tell of another help in the Goodwin family a 
 sorter Jarman, or Irish lady." 
 
 "Was any such woman seen about the house this morn- 
 ing, when the ruins were searched ? " 
 
 " Not as 7'ner. We turned over the brands and sticks 
 until we come across the old folks ; then everybody seemed 
 to think the work was pretty much done." 
 
 " In what state, or situation, w r ere these remains found ? " 
 
 " Burnt to a crisp, just as you see 'em, squire, as I said 
 afore ; a pretty poor state for human beings to be in." 
 
 " But where were they lying, and were they near each 
 other?" 
 
 " Close together. Their heads, if a body can call them 
 black-lookin' skulls heads, at all, almost touched, if they 
 didn't quite touch, each other ; their feet lay further 
 apart." 
 
 " Do you think you could place the skeletons in the 
 same manner, as respects each other, as they were when 
 you first saw them ? But let me first inquire, if any other 
 person is present, who saw these remains before they had 
 been removed ?" 
 
 Several men, and one or two women, who were in at- 
 tendance to be examined, now came forward, and stated 
 that they had seen the remains in the condition in which 
 they had been originally found. Selecting the most intel- 
 ligent of the party, after questioning them all round, the 
 coroner desired that the skeletons might be laid, as near 
 as might be, in the same relative positions as those in 
 which they had been found. There was a difference of 
 opinion among the witnesses, as to several of the minor 
 particulars, though all admitted that the bodies, or what 
 remained of them, had been found quite close together; 
 their heads touching, and their feet some little distance 
 apart. In this manner, then, were the skeletons now dis- 
 posed ; the arrangement being completed just as Dr. McBrain 
 entered the court-room. The coroner immediately directed 
 the witnesses to stand aside, while the physician made an 
 examination of the crisp bones. 
 
 " This looks like foul play ! " exclaimed the doctor, al- 
 most as soon as his examination commenced. " The skulls 
 of both these persons have been fractured ; and, if this be 
 
28 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 anything near the positions in which the skeletons were 
 found, as it would seem, by the same blow." 
 
 He then pointed out to the coroner and jury a small 
 fracture in the frontal bone of each skull, and so nearly 
 in a line as to render his conjecture highly probable. This 
 discovery gave an entirely new coloring to the whole oc- 
 currence, and everyone present began to speculate on the 
 probability of arson and murder being connected with the 
 unfortunate affair. The Goodwins were known to have 
 lived at their ease, and the good woman, in particular, had 
 the reputation of being a little miserly. As everything 
 like order vanished temporarily from the court-room, and 
 tongues were going in all directions, many things were 
 related that were really of a suspicious character, especially 
 by the women. The coroner adjourned the investigation 
 for the convenience of irregular conversation, in order to 
 obtain useful clews to the succeeding inquiries. 
 
 " You say that old Mrs. Goodwin had a good deal of 
 specie?" inquired that functionary of a certain Mrs. Pope, 
 a widow woman who had been free with her communica- 
 tions, and who very well might know more than the rest 
 of the neighbors, from a very active propensity she had 
 ever manifested, to look into the affairs of all around her. 
 "Did I understand you, that you had seen this money 
 yourself ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; often and often. She kept it in a stocking 
 of the old gentleman's, that was nothing but darns ; so 
 darny like, that nobody could wear it. Miss Goodwin 
 wasn't a woman to put away anything that was of use. A 
 clusser body wasn't to be found, anywhere near Biberry." 
 
 " And some of this money was gold, I think I heard you 
 say. A stocking pretty well filled with gold and silver." 
 
 " The foot was cramming full, when I saw it, and that 
 wasn't three months since. I can't say there was any great 
 matter in the leg. Yes, there was gold in it, too. She 
 showed me the stocking the last time I saw it, on purpose 
 to ask me what might be the valie of a piece of gold that 
 was almost as big as half a dollar." 
 
 " Should you know that piece of gold, were you to see 
 it, again ? " 
 
 " That I should. I didn't know its name, or its valie, 
 for I never seed so big a piece afore, but I told Miss Good- 
 win I thought it must be ra'al Californy. Them's about 
 now, they tell me, and I hope poor folks will come in for 
 their share. Old as I am that is, not so very old neither 
 
THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 39 
 
 but such as I am, I never had a piece of gold in my 
 life." 
 
 " You cannot tell, then, the name of this particular 
 coin ?" 
 
 " I couldn't ; if I was to have it for the telling, I couldn't. 
 It wasn't a five dollar piece ; that I know, for the old lady 
 had a good many of them, and this was much larger, and 
 yellower, too ; better gold, I conclude." 
 
 The coroner was accustomed to garrulous, sight-seeing 
 females, and knew how to humor them. 
 
 " Where did Mrs. Goodwin keep her specie ? " he in- 
 quired. " If you ever saw her put the stocking away, you 
 must know its usual place of deposit." 
 
 " In her chest of drawers," answered the woman eager- 
 ly. " That very chest of drawers which was got out of 
 the house, as sound as the day it went into it, and has been 
 brought down into the village for safe keeping." 
 
 All this was so, and measures were taken to push the 
 investigation further, and in that direction. Three or four 
 young men, willing volunteers in such a cause, brought 
 the bureau into the court-room, and the coroner directed 
 that each of the drawers should be publicly opened, in the 
 presence of the jurors. The widow was first sworn, how- 
 ever, and testified regularly to the matter of the stocking, 
 the money, and the place of usual deposit. 
 
 " Ah ! you'll not find it there," observed Mrs. Pope, as 
 the village cabinet-maker applied a key, the wards of 
 which happened to fit those of the locks in question. 
 " She kept her money in the lowest drawer of all. I've 
 seen her take the stocking out, first and last, at least a 
 dozen times." 
 
 The lower drawer was opened, accordingly. It contained 
 female apparel, and a goodly store of such articles as were 
 suited to the wants of a respectable woman in the fourth 
 or fifth of the gradations into which all society so natural- 
 ly, and unavoidably, divides itself. But there was no 
 stocking full of darns, no silver, no gold. Mrs. Pope's 
 busy and nimble fingers were thrust hastily into an inner 
 corner of the drawer, and a silk dress was unceremoniously 
 opened, that having been the precise receptacle of the treas- 
 ure as she had seen it last bestowed. 
 
 "It's gone ! " exclaimed the woman. " Somebody must 
 have taken it ! " 
 
 A great deal was now thought to be established. The 
 broken skulls, and the missing money, went near to estab- 
 
30 THE irAYS OF THE HOTK. 
 
 lish a case of murder and robbery, in addition to the high 
 crime of arson. Men, who had worn solemn and grave 
 countenances all that morning, no\v looked excited and 
 earnest. The desire for a requiting justice was general and 
 active, and the dead became doubly dear, by means of their 
 wrongs. 
 
 All this time Dr. McBrain had been attending, exclusive- 
 ly, to the part of the subject that most referred to his own 
 profession. Of the fractures in the two skulls, he was well 
 assured, though the appearance of the remains was such as 
 almost to baffle investigation. Of another important fact 
 he was less certain. While all he heard prepared him to 
 meet with the skeletons of a man and his wife, so far as he 
 could judge, in the imperfect state in which they were 
 laid before him, the bones were those of two females. 
 
 "Did you know this Mr. Goodwin, Mr. Coroner?" in- 
 quired the physician, breaking into the more regular ex- 
 ammination with very little ceremony ; " or was he well 
 known to any here ? " 
 
 The coroner had no very accurate knowledge of the de- 
 ceased, though every one of the jurors had been well 
 acquainted with him. Several had known him all their 
 lives. 
 
 " Was he a man of ordinary size ? " asked the doctor. 
 
 " Very small. Not taller than his wife, who might be 
 set down as quite a tall old lady." 
 
 It often happens in Europe, especially in England, that 
 the man and his wife are so nearly of a height as to leave 
 very little sensible difference in their stature ; but it is a 
 rare occurrence in this country. In America, the female 
 is usually delicate, and of a comparatively small frame, 
 while the average height of a man is something beyond 
 that of the European standard. It was a little out of the 
 common way, therefore, to meet with a couple so nearly of 
 a size, as these remains would make Goodwin and his wife 
 to have been. 
 
 "These skeletons are very nearly of the same length," 
 resumed the doctor, after measuring them for the fifth 
 time. " The man could not have been much if any taller 
 than his wife." 
 
 "He was not," answered a juror. "Old Peter Goodwin 
 could not have been more than five feet five, and Dorothy 
 was all of that, I should think. When they came to meet- 
 ing together, they looked much of a muchness." 
 
 Now there is nothing on which a prudent and regular 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 31 
 
 physician is more cautious than in committing himself on 
 unknown and uncertain ground. He has his theories, and 
 his standard of opinions, usually well settled in his mind, 
 and he is ever on the alert to protect and bolster them ; 
 seldom making any admission that may contravene either. 
 He is apt to denounce the water cure, however surprising 
 may have been its effects ; and there is commonly but one 
 of the " opathies " to which he is in the least disposed to 
 defer, and that is the particular "opathy " on which he 
 has moulded his practice. As for Dr. McBrain, he belonged 
 strictly to the allopathic school, and might be termed al- 
 most an ultra in his adherence to its laws, while the 
 number of the new schools that were springing up around 
 him, taught him caution, as well as great prudence, in 
 the expression of his opinions. Give him a patient, and 
 he went to work boldly, and with the decision and nerve 
 of a physician accustomed to practice in an exaggerated 
 climate ; but place him before the public, as a theoretical 
 man, and he was timid and wary. His friend Dunscomb 
 had observed this peculiarity, thirty years before the com- 
 mencement of our tale, and had quite recently told him, 
 " You are bold in the only thing in which I am timid, 
 Ned, and that is in making up to the women. If Mrs. Up- 
 dyke were a new-fangled theory, now, instead of an old- 
 fashioned widow, as she is, hang me if I think you would 
 have ever had the spirit to propose." This peculiarity of 
 temperament, and, perhaps, we might add of character, 
 rendered Dr. McBrain, now, very adverse to saying, in the 
 face of such probability, and the statements of so many 
 witnesses, that the mutilated and charred skeletons that lay 
 on the court-house table were those of two females, and not 
 those of a man and his wife. It was certainly possible he 
 might be mistaken ; for the conflagration had made sad 
 work of these poor emblems of mortality ; but science has 
 a clear eye, and the doctor was a skilful and practised anat- 
 omist. In his own mind, there were very few doubts on 
 the subject. 
 
 As soon as the thoughtful physician found time to turn 
 his attention on the countenances of those who composed 
 the crowd in the court-room, he observed that nearly all 
 eyes were bent on the person of one particular female, 
 who sat apart, and was seemingly laboring under a shock 
 of some sort or other, that materially affected her nerves. 
 McBrain saw, at a glance, that this person belonged to a 
 class every way superior to that of even the highest of 
 
32 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 those who pressed around the table. The face was con- 
 cealed in a handkerchief, but the form was not only 
 youthful but highly attractive. Small, delicate hands and 
 feet could be seen ; such hands and feet as we are all ac- 
 customed to see in an American girl, who has been deli- 
 cately brought up. Her dress was simple, and of ^studied 
 modesty ; but there was an air about that, which a little 
 surprised the kind-hearted individual, who was now so 
 closely observing her. 
 
 The doctor had little difficulty in learning from those 
 near him that this *' young woman," so all in the crow r d 
 styled her, though it was their practice to term most girls, 
 however humble their condition, " ladies," had been re- 
 siding witli the Goodwins for a few weeks, in the character 
 of a boarder, as some asserted, while others affirmed it 
 was as a friend. At all events, there was a mystery about 
 her ; and most of the girls of Biberry had called her 
 proud, because she did not join in their frivolities, flirta- 
 tions and visits. It was true, no one had ever thought of 
 discharging the duties of social life by calling on her, or 
 in making the advances usual to well-bred people ; but this 
 makes little difference where there is a secret conscious- 
 ness of inferiority, and of an inferiority that is felt, while 
 it is denied. Such things are of every-day occurrence, in 
 country-life in particular, while American town-life is far 
 from being exempt from the weakness. In older coun- 
 tries, the laws of society are better respected. 
 
 It was now plain that the blight of suspicion had fallen 
 on this unknown, and seemingly friendless girl. If the 
 fire had been communicated intentionally, who so likely 
 to be guilty as she ? if the money was gone, who had so 
 many means of securing it as herself ? These were ques- 
 tions that passed from one to another, until distrust 
 gathered so much head, that the coroner deemed it ex- 
 pedient to adjourn the inquest, while the proof might be 
 collected, and offered in proper form. 
 
 Dr. McBrain was, by nature, kind-hearted ; then he 
 could not easily get over that stubborn scientific fact, of both 
 the skeletons having belonged to females. It is true that, 
 admitting this to be the case, it threw very little light on 
 the matter, and in no degree lessened any grounds of sus- 
 picion that might properly rest on the " young woman ; " 
 but it separated him from the throng, and placed his mind 
 in a sort of middle condition, in which he fancied it might 
 be prudent, as well as charitable, to doubt. Perceiving 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 33 
 
 that the crowd was dispersing, though not without much 
 animated discussion in undertones, and that the subject of 
 all this conversation still remained in her solitary corner, 
 apparently unconscious of what was going on, the worthy 
 doctor approached the immovable figure, and spoke. 
 
 " You have come here as a witness, I presume," he said, 
 in a gentle tone ; "if so, your attendance just now will no 
 longer be necessary, the coroner having adjourned the in- 
 quest until to-morrow afternoon." 
 
 At the first sound of his voice, the solitary female re- 
 moved a fine cambric handkerchief from her face, and per- 
 mitted her new companion to look upon it. We shall say 
 nothing, here, touching that countenance or any other 
 personal peculiarity, as a sufficiently minute description 
 will be given in the next chapter, through the communica- 
 tions made by Dr. McBrain to Dunscomb. Thanking her 
 informant for his information, and exchanging a few brief 
 sentences on the melancholy business which had brought 
 both there, the young woman arose, made a slight but 
 very graceful inclination of her body, and withdrew. 
 
 Dr. McBrain's purpose was made up on the spot He saw 
 very plainly that a fierce current of suspicion was setting 
 against this pleasing, and, as it seemed to him, friendless 
 young creature ; and he determined at once to hasten back 
 to town, and get his friend to go out to Biberry, without a 
 moment's delay, that he might appear there that very after- 
 noon in the character of counsel to the helpless. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 I am informed thoroughly of the cause. 
 
 Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ? 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 SUCH was the substance of the communication that Dr. 
 McBrain now made to his friend, Tom Dunscomb. The 
 latter had listened with an interest he did not care to be- 
 tray, and when the other was done he gayly cried 
 " I'll tell the Widow Updyke of you, Ned ! " 
 "She knows the whole story already, and is very anx- 
 ious lest you should have left town, to go to the Rockland 
 circuit, where she has been told you have an important 
 case to try." 
 
 3 
 
34 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " The case goes over on account of the opposite coun- 
 sel's being in the court of appeals. Ah's me ! I have no 
 pleasure in managing a cause since this Code of Pro- 
 cedure has innovated on all our comfortable and venerable 
 modes of doing business. I believe I shall close up my 
 affairs, and retire, as soon as I can bring all my old cases to 
 a termination." 
 
 " If you can bring those old cases to a termination, you 
 will be the first lawyer who ever did." 
 
 " Yes, it is true, Ned," answered Dunscomb, coolly 
 taking a pinch of snuff, " you doctors have, the advantage 
 of us, in this behalf ; voiir cases certainly do not last for- 
 ever." 
 
 ' Enough of this, Tom you will go to Biberry, I take it 
 for granted ? " 
 
 " You have forgotten the fee. Under the new code, com- 
 pensation is a matter of previous agreement." 
 
 "You shall have a pleasant excursion, over good roads, 
 in the month of May, in an easy carriage, and drawn by 
 a pair of as spirited horses as ever trotted on the Third 
 Avenue." 
 
 "The animals you have just purchased in honor of Mrs. 
 Updyke that is Mrs. McBrain that is to be " touching 
 the bell, and adding to the very respectable black who im- 
 mediately answered the summons, " Tell Master Jack and 
 Miss Sarah I wish to see them. So, Ned, you have let the 
 widow know all about it, and she does not pout or look 
 distrustful that is a good symptom, at least." 
 
 " I would not marry a jealous woman / if I never had a 
 wife." 
 
 "Then you will never marry at all. Why, Dr. Mc- 
 Brain, it is in the nature of woman to be distrustful to 
 be jealous to fancy things that are merely figments of 
 the brain." 
 
 "You know nothing about them, and would be wisest 
 to be silent but here are the young people already, to ask 
 your pleasure." 
 
 " Sarah, my dear," resumed the uncle in a kind and af- 
 fectionate tone of voice, one that the old bachelor almost 
 universally held toward that particular relative, " I must 
 give you a little trouble. Go into my room, child, and 
 put up, in my smallest travelling bag, a clean shirt, a hand- 
 kerchief or two, three or four collars, and a change all 
 round, for a short expedition into the country." 
 
 " Country ! Do you quit us to-day, sir ? " 
 
THE IV A YS OF THE HOUR. 35 
 
 "Within an hour, at latest," looking at his watch. "If 
 we leave the door at ten, we can reach Biberry before the 
 inquest reassembles. You told those capital beasts of 
 yours, Ned, to come here ? " 
 
 " I told Stephen to give them a hint to that effect You 
 may rely on their punctuality." 
 
 " Jack, you had better be of our party. I go on some 
 legal business of importance, and it may be well for you to 
 go along, in order to pick up an idea or two." 
 
 "And why not Michael also, sir ? He has as much need 
 of ideas as I have myself." 
 
 A pretty general laugh succeeded, though Sarah, who 
 was just quitting the room, did not join in it. She rather 
 looked grave, as well as a little anxiously toward the last 
 named neophyte of the law. 
 
 " Shall we want any books, sir ? " demanded the nephew. 
 
 " Why, yes we will take the Code of Procedure. One 
 can no more move without that, just now, than he can 
 travel in some countries without a passport. Yes, put 
 up the code, Jack, and we'll pick it to pieces as we trot 
 along." 
 
 " There is little need of that, sir, if what they say be true. 
 I hear, from all quarters, that it is doing that for itself, on 
 a gallop." 
 
 " Shame on thee, lad I have half a mind to banish 
 thee to Philadelphia ! But put up the code ; thy joke 
 can't be worse than that joke. As for Michael, he can ac- 
 company us if he wish it ; but you must both be ready by 
 ten. At ten, precisely, we quit my door, in the chariot of 
 Phcebus, eh, Ned?" 
 
 " Call it what you please, so you do but go. Be active, 
 young gentlemen, for we have no time to throw away. The 
 jury meet again at two, and we have several hours of road 
 before us. I will run round and look at my slate, and be 
 here by the time you are ready." 
 
 On this suggestion everybody was set in active motion. 
 John went for his books, and to fill a small rubber bag for 
 himself, Michael did the same, and Sarah was busy in her 
 uncle's room. As for Dunscomb, he made the necessary 
 disposition of some papers, wrote two or three notes, and 
 held himself at the command of his friend. This affair 
 was just the sort of professional business in which he 
 liked to be engaged. Not that he had any sympathy with 
 crime, for he was strongly averse to all communion with 
 rogues ; but it appeared to him, by the representations oJ 
 
36 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 the doctor, to be a mission of mercy. A solitary, young, 
 unfriended female, accused, or suspected, of a most hein- 
 ous crime, and looking around for a protector and an ad- 
 viser, was an object too interesting for a man of his tem- 
 perament to overlook, under the appeal that had been 
 made. Still he was not the dupe of his feelings. All his 
 coolness, sagacity, knowledge of human nature, and pro- 
 fessional attainments, were just as active in him as they 
 ever had been in his life. Two things he understood well ; 
 that we are much too often deceived by outward signs, 
 mistaking character by means of a fair exterior, and studied 
 words, and that neither youth, beauty, sex, nor personal 
 graces were infallible preventives of the worst offences, on 
 the one hand ; and that, on the other, men nurture dis- 
 trust and suspicion often, until it grows too large to be 
 concealed, by means of their own propensity to feed the 
 imagination and to exaggerate. Against these two weak- 
 nesses he was now resolved to arm himself ; and when the 
 whole party drove from the door, our counsellor was as 
 clear-headed and impartial, according to his own notion 
 of the matter, as if he were a judge. 
 
 By this time the young men had obtained a general 
 notion of the business they were on, and the very first 
 subject that was started, on quitting the door, was in 
 a question put by John Wilmeter, in continuation of a 
 discussion that had been commenced between himself and 
 his friend. 
 
 " Mike and I have a little difference of opinion, on a 
 point connected with this matter, which I could wish you to 
 settle for us, as an arbiter. On the supposition that you 
 find reason to believe that this young woman has really 
 committed these horrible crimes, what would be your duty 
 in the case to continue to befriend her, and advise her, 
 and use your experience and talents in order to shield 
 her against the penalties of the law, or to abandon her 
 at once ? " 
 
 " In plain English, Jack, you and your brother student 
 wish to know whether I am to act as a palladium, or as a 
 runagate, in this affair. As neophytes in your craft, it may 
 be well to suggest to you, in the first place, that I have not 
 yet been feed. I never knew a lawyer's conscience trouble 
 him about questions in casuistry, until he had received 
 something down." 
 
 " But you can suppose that something paid, in this case, 
 sir, and then answer our question." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 37 
 
 "This is just the case in which I can suppose nothing 
 of the sort. Had McBrain given me to understand I was 
 to meet a client with a well-lined purse, who was accused 
 of arson and murder, I would have seen him married to two 
 women at the same time before I would have budged. It's 
 the want of a fee that takes me out of town this morning." 
 
 "And the same want, I trust, sir, will stimulate you to 
 solve our difficulty." 
 
 The uncle laughed, and nodded his head, much as if he 
 would say, ''Pretty well ioryou;" then he gave a thought 
 to the point in professional ethics that had started up be- 
 tween his two students. 
 
 " This is a very old question with the profession, gentle- 
 men," Dunscomb answered, a little more gravely. "You 
 will find men who maintain that the lawyer has, morally, a 
 right to do whatever his client would do ; that he puts him- 
 self in the place of the man he defends, and is expected to 
 do everything precisely as if he were the accused party 
 himself. I rather think that some vague notion, quite as 
 loose as this, prevails pretty generally among what one 
 may call the minor moralists of the profession." 
 
 " I confess, sir, that I have been given to understand that 
 some such rule ought to govern our conduct," said Michael 
 Millington, who had been in Dunscomb's office only for 
 the last six months. 
 
 " Then you have been very loosely and badly instructed 
 in the duties of an advocate, Mr. Michael. A more per- 
 nicious doctrine was never broached, or one better suited to 
 make men scoundrels. Let a young man begin practice 
 with such notions, and two or three thieves for clients will 
 prepare him to commit petit larceny, and a case or two of 
 perjury would render him an exquisite at an affidavit. No, 
 my boys, here is your rule in this matter : an advocate has a 
 right to do whatever his client has a right to do not what 
 his client /##/</ do." 
 
 "Surely, sir, an advocate is justified in telling his client 
 to plead not guilty, though guilty ; and in aiding him to 
 persuade a jury to acquit him, though satisfied himself he 
 ought to be convicted ! " 
 
 "You have got hold of the great point in the case, Jack, 
 and one on which something may be said on both sides. 
 The law is so indulgent as to permit an accused who has 
 formally pleaded 'guilty,' thus making a distinct admis- 
 sion of his crime, to withdraw that plea, and put in another 
 of ' not guilty.' Now, had the same person made a similar 
 
38 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 admission out of court, and under circumstances that put 
 threats or promises out of the question, the law would have 
 accepted that admission as the best possible evidence of his 
 guilt. It is evident, therefore, that an understanding exists, 
 to which the justice of the country is a party, that a man, 
 though guilty, shall get himself out of the scrape if he can do 
 so by legal means. No more importance is attached to the 
 * not guilty ' than to the ' not at home ' to a visitor ; it being 
 understood, by general convention, that neither means any- 
 thing. Some persons are so squeamish, as to cause their 
 servants to say 'they are engaged,' by way of not telling a 
 lie ; but a lie consists in the intentional deception, and 
 ' not in ' and ' not guilty ' mean no more, in the one case, 
 than * you can't see my master,' and in the other, than ' I'll 
 run the chances of a trial.' " 
 
 " After all, sir, this is going pretty near the wind, in the 
 way of morals." 
 
 " It certainly is. The Christian man who has committed 
 a crime ought not to attempt to deny it to his country, as 
 he certainly can not to his God. Yet, nine hundred and 
 ninety-nine out of a thousand of the most straight-laced 
 Christians in the community would so deny their guilt if 
 arraigned. We must not tax poor human nature too heav- 
 ily, though I think the common law contains many things, 
 originating in a jealousy of hereditary power, that it is a 
 great folly for us to preserve. But,while we are thus sett- 
 ling principles we forget facts. You have told me nothing 
 of your client, Ned." 
 
 " What would you wish to know ? " 
 
 " You call her young, I remember ; what may be her 
 precise age ? " 
 
 " That is more than I know ; somewhere between sixteen 
 and five-and-twenty." 
 
 " Five-and-twenty ! Is she as old as that ? " 
 
 " I rather think not ; but I have been thinking much of 
 her this morning, and I really do not remember to have 
 seen another human being who is so difficult to describe." 
 
 "She has eyes, of course ?" 
 
 u Two and very expressive they are ; though, sworn, I 
 could not tell their color." 
 
 "And hair?" 
 
 " In very great profusion ; so much of it, and so very 
 fine and shinitig, that it was the very first thing about her 
 person which I observed. But I have not the least notion 
 of its color," 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 39 
 
 " Was it red ? " 
 
 " No ; nor yellow, nor golden, nor black, nor brown-r^ 
 and yet a little of all blended together, I should say." 
 
 " Ned, I'll tell the Widow Updyke of thee, thou rogue !" 
 
 "Tell her, and welcome. She has asked me all these 
 questions herself, this very morning." 
 
 4 ' Oh, she has, has she? Umph! Woman never changes 
 her nature. You cannot say anything about the eyes, be- 
 yond the fact of their being very expressive ? " 
 
 "And pleasing ; more than that, even engaging; win- 
 ning is a better term." 
 
 "Ned, you dog, you have never told the widow one- 
 half ! " 
 
 " Every syllable. I even went further, and declared I 
 had never beheld a countenance that, in so short an inter- 
 view, made so deep an impression on me. If I were not 
 to see this young woman again, I should never forget the 
 expression of her face so spirited, so sad, so gentle, so 
 feminine, and so very intelligent. It seemed to me to be 
 what I should call an illuminated countenance." 
 
 " Handsome ? " 
 
 " Not unusually so, among our sweet American girls, ex- 
 cept through the expression. That was really wonderful ; 
 though, you will remember, I saw her under very peculiar 
 circumstances." 
 
 " Oh, exceedingly peculiar. Dear old soul ; what a 
 thump she has given him ! How were her mouth and her 
 teeth ? complexion, stature, figure, and smile ? " 
 
 " I can tell you little of all these. Her teeth are fine ; 
 for she gave me a faint smile, such as a lady is apt to give 
 a man in quitting him, and I saw just enough of the teeth 
 to know that they are exceedingly fine. You smile, young 
 gentlemen ; but you may have a care for your hearts, in 
 good truth ; for if this strange girl interests either of you 
 one-half as much as she has interested me, she will be 
 either Mrs. John Wilmeter, or Mrs. Michael Millington, 
 within a twelvemonth." 
 
 Michael looked very sure that she would never fill the 
 last situation, which was already bespoke for Miss Sarah 
 Wilmeter ; and as for Jack, he laughed outright. 
 
 " We'll tell Mrs. Updyke of him, when we get back, and 
 break off that affair, at least," cried the uncle, winking at 
 the nephew, but in away his friend should see him ; "then 
 there will be one marriage the less in the world." 
 
 "But is she a lady, doctor?" demanded John, after a 
 
40 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 short pause. "My wife must have some trifling claims in 
 that way, I can assure you." 
 
 "As for family, education, association, and fortune, I can 
 say nothing I know nothing. Yet will I take upon my- 
 self to say she is a lady and that, in the strict signification 
 of the term." 
 
 " You are not serious now, Ned ! " exclaimed the coun- 
 sellor, quickly. " Not a bony fide, as some of our gentlemen 
 have it ? You cannot mean exactly what you say." 
 
 " I do, though ; and that literally." 
 
 "And she suspected of arson and murder ! Where are 
 her connections and friends those who make her a lady ? 
 Why is she there alone, and, as you say, unfriended ?" 
 
 " So it seemed to me. You might as well ask me why 
 she is there at all. I know nothing of all this. I heard 
 plenty of reasons in the street, why she ought to be dis- 
 trusted nay, convicted ; for the feeling against her had 
 got to be intense before I left Biberry ; but no one could 
 tell me whence she came, or why she was there." 
 
 " Did you learn her name ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that was in every mouth, and I could not help 
 hearing it. She was called Mary Monson by the people of 
 Biberry but I much doubt if that be her real name." 
 
 " So, your angel in disguise will have to be tried under 
 an 'alias.' That is not much in her favor, Ned. I shall 
 ask no more questions, but wait patiently to see and judge 
 for myself." 
 
 The young men put a few more interrogatories, which 
 were civilly answered, and then the subject was dropped. 
 Well it has been said that " God made the country ; man 
 made the town." No one feels this more than he who has 
 been shut up between walls of brick and stone for many 
 months, on his first escape into the open, unfettered fields 
 and winding pleasant roads. Thus was it now with Duns- 
 comb. He had not been out of town since the previous 
 summer, and great was his delight at smelling the fra- 
 grance of the orchards, and feasting his eyes on their 
 beauties. All the other charms of the season came in aid 
 of these, and when the carriage drove into the long, broad, 
 and we might almost say single street of Biberry, Duns- 
 comb in particular was in a most tranquil and pleasant 
 state of mind. He had come out to assist a friendless 
 woman, cheerfully and without a thought of the sacrifice, 
 either as to time or money, though in reflecting on all the 
 circumstances he began to have his doubts of the wisdom 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 41 
 
 of the step he had taken. Nevertheless, he preserved his 
 native calmness of manner and coolness of head. 
 
 Biberry was found to be in a state of high excitement. 
 There were at least a dozen physicians collected there, all 
 from the county, and five or six reporters had come from 
 town. Rumors of all sorts were afloat, and Mary Monson 
 w r as a name in every person's mouth. She had not been 
 arrested, however, it having been deemed premature for 
 that ; but she was vigilantly watched, and two large trunks 
 of which she was the mistress, as well as an oilskin-covered 
 box of some size, if not absolutely seized, were so placed 
 that their owner had no access to them. This state of 
 things, however, did not seem to give the suspected girl 
 any uneasiness ; she was content with what a carpet-bag 
 contained, and with which she said she was comfortable. 
 It was a question with the wiseacres whether she knew 
 that she was suspected or not. 
 
 Had Dunscomb yielded to McBrain's solicitations, he 
 would have gone at once to the -house in which Mary 
 Monson was now lodged, but he preferred adopting a dif- 
 ferent course. He thought it the most prudent to be a 
 looker-on, until after the next examination, which was now 
 close at hand. Wary by long habit, and cool by tempera- 
 ment, he w r as disposed to observe the state of things before 
 he committed himself. The presence of the reporters an- 
 noyed him ; not that he stood in any dread of the low tyr- 
 anny that is so apt to characterize this class of men, for 
 no member of the bar had held them, and the puny efforts 
 of many among them to build up and take away profes- 
 sional character, in greater contempt than he had done ; 
 but he disliked to have his name mixed up with a cause of 
 this magnitude, unless he had made up his mind to go 
 through with it. In this temper, then, no communication 
 was held with Mary Monson, until they met, at the hour 
 appointed for the inquest, in the court-house. 
 
 The room was crowded, at least twice as many having 
 collected on this occasion as had got together on the sud- 
 den call of the previous examination. Dunscomb observed 
 that the coroner looked grave, like a man who felt he had 
 important business on his hands, while a stern expectation 
 was the expression common to nearly all the others pres- 
 ent. He was an utter stranger himself, even by sight, to 
 every being present, his own party and two or three of the 
 reporters excepted. These last no sooner observed him, 
 however, than out came their little note-books, and the 
 
42 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 gold pens were at work, scribbling something. It was 
 probably a sentence to say, "We observed among the 
 crowd Thomas Dunscomb, Esquire, the well-known coun- 
 sel from the city ; " but Dunscomb cared very little for such 
 vulgarisms, and continued passive. 
 
 As soon as the inquest was organized, the coroner di- 
 rected a physician of the neighborhood to be put on the 
 stand. It had gone forth that a "city doctor" had inti- 
 mated that neither of the skeletons was that of Peter Good- 
 win, and there was a common wish to confront him with 
 a high country authority. It was while the medical man 
 n'ow in request was sent for, that McBrain pointed out 
 to Dunscomb the person of Mary Monson. She sat in a 
 corner different from that she had occupied the day before, 
 seemingly for the same purpose, or that of being alone. 
 Alone she was not, strictly, however ; a respectable-looking 
 female, of middle age, being at her side. This was a Mrs. 
 Jones, the wife of a clergyman, who had charitably offered 
 the suspected young stranger a home under her own roof, 
 pending the investigation. It was thought, generally, that 
 Mary Monson had but very vague notions of the distrust 
 that rested on her, it being a part of the plan of those who 
 were exercising all their wits to detect the criminal, that 
 she was first to learn this fact in open court, and under 
 circumstances likely to elicit some proofs of guilt. When 
 Dunscomb learned this artifice, he saw how ungenerous 
 and unmanly it was, readily imagined a dozen signs of 
 weakness that a female might exhibit in such a strait, that 
 had no real connection with crime, and felt a strong dispo- 
 sition to seek an interview, and put the suspected party on 
 her guard. It was too late for this, however, just then ; 
 and he contented himself, for the moment, with study- 
 ing such signs of character and consciousness as his 
 native sagacity and long experience enabled him to de- 
 tect. 
 
 Although nothing could be more simple or unpretending 
 than the attire of Mary Monson, it was clearly that of a 
 lady. Everything about her denoted that station, or origin ; 
 though everything about her, as Dunscomb fancied, also 
 denoted a desire to bring herself down, as nearly as possi- 
 ble, to the level of those around her, most probably that 
 she might not attract particular attention. Our lawyer did 
 not exactly like this slight proof of management, and 
 wished it were not so apparent. He could see the hands, 
 feet, figure, hair, and general air of the female he was so 
 
THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 43 
 
 strangely called on to make the subject of his investiga- 
 tions, but he could not yet see her face. The last was 
 again covered with a cambric handkerchief, the hand which 
 held it being ungloved. It was a pretty little American 
 hand ; white, well-proportioned, and delicate. It was clear 
 that neither its proportions nor its color had been changed 
 by uses unsuited to its owner's sex or years. But it had 
 no ring, in this age of bejewelled fingers. It was the left 
 hand, moreover, and the fourth finger, like all the rest, had 
 no ornament, or sign of matrimony. He inferred from this 
 that the stranger was unmarried; one of the last things 
 that a wife usually lays aside being her wedding-ring. The 
 foot corresponded with the hand, and was decidedly the 
 smallest, best-formed, and best-decorated foot in Biberry. 
 John Wilmeter thought it the prettiest he had ever seen. 
 It was not studiously exhibited, however, but rested nat- 
 urally and gracefully in its proper place. The figure gen- 
 erally, so far as a capacious shawl would allow of its being 
 seen, was pleasing, graceful, and a little remarkable for 
 accuracy of proportions, as well as of attire. 
 
 Once or twice Mrs. Jones spoke to her companion ; and 
 it was when answering some question thus put that Duns- 
 comb first got a glimpse of his intended client's face. The 
 handkerchief was partly removed, and remained so long 
 enough to enable him to make a few brief observations. 
 It was then that he felt the perfect justice of his friend's 
 description. It was an indescribable countenance, in all 
 things but its effect ; which was quite as marked on the 
 lawyer, as it had been on the physician. But the arrival 
 of Dr. Coe put an end to these observations, and drew all 
 eyes on that individual, who "was immediately sworn. The 
 customary preliminary questions were put to this witness, 
 respecting his profession, length of practice, residence, etc., 
 when the examination turned more on the matter immedi- 
 ately under investigation. 
 
 "You see those objects on the table, doctor?" said the 
 coroner. " What do you say they are ? " 
 
 " Ossa hominum : human bones, much defaced and charred 
 by heat." 
 
 " Do you find any proof about them of violence com- 
 mitted, beyond the damage done by fire ? " 
 
 " Certainly. There is the os frontis of each fractured by 
 a blow ; a common blow, as I should judge." 
 
 "What do you mean, sir, by a common blow ? An acci- 
 dental, or an intentional blow?" 
 
44 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " By common blow, I mean that one blow did the dam. 
 age to both cranys" 
 
 " Crany? how do you spell that word, doctor ? Common 
 folks get put out by foreign tongues." 
 
 " Cranys, in the plural, sir. We say cranium for one 
 skull, and crany for two." 
 
 " I wonder what he would say for numskull ? " whispered 
 John to Michael. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I understand you, now. I trust the reporters 
 will get it right." 
 
 " Oh ! they never make any mistakes, especially in legal 
 proceedings," quietly remarked Mr. Dunscomb to the doc- 
 tor. " In matters of law and the constitution they are of 
 proof ! Talk of letters on the constitution ! What are 
 equal to those that come to us, hibernally, as one may say, 
 from Washington ? " 
 
 " Hibernially would be the better word," answered Mc- 
 Brain, in the same undertone. 
 
 " You ought to know ; your grandfather was an Irish- 
 man, Ned. But listen to this examination." 
 
 " And now, Dr. Coe, have the goodness to look at these 
 skeletons," resumed the coroner, "and tell us whether they 
 belong to man, woman, or child. Whether they are the 
 remains of adults, or of children." 
 
 " Of adults, certainly. On that point, sir, I conceive 
 there can be no doubt." 
 
 " And as to the sex ? " 
 
 . "I should think that is equally clear. I have no doubt 
 that one are the remains of Peter Goodwin, and the other 
 those of his wife. Science can distinguish between the 
 sexes, in ordinary cases, I allo\v ; but this is a case in which 
 science is at fault, for want of facts ; and taking all the 
 known circumstances into consideration, I have no hesita- 
 tion in saying that, according to my best judgment, those are 
 the remains of the missing man and woman man and wife." 
 
 " Am I to understand that you recognize the particular 
 skeletons by any outward, visible proofs ? " 
 
 " Yes ; there is the stature. Both of the deceased were 
 well known to me ; and I should say, that making the 
 usual allowance for the absence of the musculi, the pellis, 
 and other known substances " 
 
 " Doctor, would it be just as agreeable to you to use the 
 common dialect ? " demanded a shrewd-looking farmer, one 
 of the jury, who appeared equally amused and vexed at the 
 display of learning. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 45 
 
 "Certainly, sir certainly, Mr. Blore ; musculi means 
 muscles, and pellis is the skin. Abstract the muscles and 
 skin, and the other intermediate substances, from the bones, 
 and the apparent stature would be reduced, as a matter of 
 course. Making those allowances, I see in those skeletons 
 the remains of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin. Of the fact, 
 I entertain no manner of doubt." 
 
 As Dr. Coe was very sincere in what he said, he ex- 
 pressed himself somewhat earnestly. A great many eyes 
 were turned triumphantly toward the stranger who had 
 presumed to intimate that the bones of both the remains 
 were those of women, when everybody in and about Bi- 
 berry knew Peter Goodwin so well, and knew that his wife, 
 if anything, was the taller of the two. No one in all that 
 crowd doubted as to the fact, except McBrain and his 
 friend ; and the last doubted altogether on the faith of the 
 doctor's science. He had never known him mistaken, 
 though often examined in court, and was aware that the 
 bar considered him one of the safest and surest witnesses 
 they could employ in all cases of controverted facts. 
 
 Dr. Coe's examination proceeded. 
 
 " Have you a direct knowledge of any of the circum- 
 stances connected with this fire ? " demanded the coroner. 
 
 " A little, perhaps. I was called to visit a patient about 
 midnight, and was obliged to pass directly before the door 
 of Goodwin's house. The jury knows that it stood on a 
 retired road, and that one would not be likely to meet 
 with any person travelling it so early in the morning. I 
 did pass, however, two men, who were walking very fast, 
 and in the direction of Goodwin's. I could not see their 
 faces, nor did I know them by their figures and move- 
 ments. As I see everybody, and know almost everybody, 
 hereabouts, I concluded they were strangers. About four 
 I was on my return along the same road, and as my sulky 
 rose to the top of Windy Hill, I got a view of Goodwin's 
 house. The flames were just streaming out of the east end 
 of the roof, and the little wing on that end of the building, 
 in which the old folks slept, was in a bright blaze. The 
 other end was not much injured ; and I saw at an upper 
 window the figure of a female she resembled, as well as I 
 could judge by that light, and at that distance, the young 
 lady now present, and who is said to have occupied the 
 chamber under the roof, in the old house, for some time 
 past ; though I can't say I have ever seen her there, unless 
 I saw her then, under the circumstances mentioned. The 
 
46 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 old people could not have been as ailing this spring, as was 
 common with them, as I do not remember to have been 
 stopped by them once. They never were in the habit of 
 sending for the doctor, but seldom let me go past the door 
 without calling me in." 
 
 " Did you see any one besides the figure of the female at 
 the window ? " 
 
 "Yes. There were two men beneath that window, and 
 they appeared to me to be speaking to, or holding some 
 sort of communication with the female. I saw gestures, 
 and I saw one or two articles thrown out of the window. 
 My view was only for a minute ; and when I reached the 
 house a considerable crowd had collected, and I had no 
 opportunity to observe, particularly in a scene of such con- 
 fusion." 
 
 "Was the female still at the upper window when you 
 reached the house?" 
 
 " No. I saw the lady now present standing near the 
 burning building, and held by a -Irian Peter Davidson, I 
 think it was who told me she wanted to rush into the 
 house to look for the old folks." 
 
 " Did you see any efforts of that sort in her ? " 
 
 " Certainly. She struggled to get away from Peter, and 
 acted like a person who wished to rush into the burning 
 building." 
 
 "Were the struggles natural or might they not have 
 been affected ? " 
 
 "They might. If it was acting, it was good acting. I 
 have seen as good, however, in my life." 
 
 The doctor had a meaning manner that said more than 
 his words. He spoke very low so low as not to be au- 
 dible to those who sat in the further parts of the room ; 
 which will explain the perfect indifference to his testimony 
 that was manifested by the subject of his remarks. An 
 impression, however, was made on the jury, which was 
 composed of men much disposed to push distrust to demon- 
 stration. 
 
 The coroner now thought it time to spring the principal 
 mine, which had been carefully preparing during the 
 recess in the investigation ; and he ordered " Mary Mon- 
 son " to be called a witness who had been regularly sum- 
 moned to attend, among the crowd of persons that had 
 received similar notices. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 47 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law, 
 The penalty and forfeit of my bond. Shy lock. 
 
 THE eyes of Dunscomb were fastened intently on the 
 female stranger, as she advanced to the place occupied by 
 the witnesses. Her features denoted agitation, certainly ; 
 but he saw no traces of guilt. It seemed so improbable, 
 moreover, that a young woman of her years and appear- 
 ance should be guilty of so dark an offence, and that for 
 money, too, that all the chances were in favor of her inno- 
 cence. Still, there were suspicious circumstances, out of 
 all question, connected with her situation, and he was too 
 much experienced in the strange and unaccountable ways 
 of crime, not to be slow to form his conclusions. 
 
 The face of Mary Monson was now fully exposed ; it 
 being customary to cause female witnesses to remove their 
 hats, in order that the jurors may observe their counte- 
 nances. And what a countenance it was ! Feminine, open, 
 with scarce a trace of the ordinary passions about it, and 
 illuminated from within, as we have already intimated. 
 The girl might have been twenty, though she afterward 
 stated her age to be a little more than twenty-one per- 
 haps the most interesting period of a female's existence. 
 The features were not particularly regular, and an artist 
 might have discovered various drawbacks on her beauty, 
 if not positive defects ; but no earthly being could have 
 quarrelled with the expression. That was a mixture of 
 intelligence, softness, spirit, and feminine innocence, that 
 did not fail to produce an impression on a crowd which 
 had almost settled down into a firm conviction of her guilt. 
 Some even doubted, and most of those present thought it 
 very strange. 
 
 The reporters began to write, casting their eyes eagerly 
 toward this witness ; and John Dunscomb, who sat near 
 them, soon discovered that there were material discrepan- 
 cies in their descriptions. These, however, were amicably 
 settled by comparing notes ; and when the accounts of 
 that day's examination appeared in the journals of the 
 time, they were sufficiently consistent with each other ; 
 much more so, indeed, than with the truth in its severer 
 aspects. There was no wish to mislead, probably ; but the 
 
48 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 whole system has the capital defect of making a trade of 
 news. The history of passing events comes to us suffi- 
 ciently clouded and obscured by the most vulgar and least 
 praiseworthy of all our lesser infirmities, even when left to 
 take what may be termed its natural course ; but, as soon 
 as the money-getting principle is applied to it, facts be- 
 come articles for the market, and go up and down, much 
 as do other commodities, in the regular prices current. 
 
 Mary Monson trembled a little when sworn ; but she 
 had evidently braced her nerves for the trial. Women are 
 very capable of self-command, even in situations as foreign 
 to their habits as this, if they have time to compose them- 
 selves, and to come forward under the influence of resolu- 
 tions deliberately formed. Such was probably the state of 
 mind of this solitary and seemingly unfriended young 
 woman ; for, though pale as death, she was apparently 
 composed. We say unfriended Mrs. Jones, herself, hav- 
 ing given all her friends to understand that she had in- 
 vited the stranger to her house under a sense of general 
 duty, and not on account of any private or particular 
 interest she felt in her affairs. She was as much a stranger 
 to her, as to every one else in the village. 
 
 " Will you be so good as to tell us your name, place of 
 ordinary residence, and usual occupation?" asked the 
 coroner, in a dry, cold manner, though not until he had 
 offered the witness a seat, in compliment to her sex. 
 
 If the face of Mary Monson was pale the instant before, 
 it now flushed to scarlet. The tint that appears in the 
 August evening sky, when heat-lightning illuminates the 
 horizon, is scarce more bright than that which chased the 
 previous pallid hue from her cheeks. Dunscomb under- 
 stood her dilemma, and interposed. She was equally un- 
 willing to tell her real name, and to give a false one, under 
 the solemn responsibility of an oath. There is, probably, 
 less of deliberate, calculated false swearing, than of any 
 other offence against justice; few having the nerve, or the 
 moral obtuseness, that is necessary to perjury. We do not 
 mean by this, that all which legal witnesses say is true, or 
 the half of it ; for ignorance, dull imaginations working 
 out solutions of half-comprehended propositions, and the 
 strong propensity we all feel to see things as we have ex- 
 pected to find them, in a measure disqualifies fully half of 
 those on whom the law has devolved a most important 
 duty, to discharge it with due intelligence and impar- 
 tiality. 
 
THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 49 
 
 "As a member of the bar, I interfere in behalf of the 
 witness," said Dunscomb, rising. " She is evidently un- 
 acquainted with her true position here, and consequently 
 with her rights. Jack, get a glass of water for the young 
 lady ; " and never did Jack obey a request of his uncle 
 with greater alacrity. " A witness cannot, with propriety, 
 be treated as a criminal, or one suspected, without being 
 apprised that the law does not require of those thus cir- 
 cumstanced, answers affecting themselves." 
 
 Dunscomb had listened more to his feelings than to his 
 legal knowledge, in offering this objection, inasmuch as no 
 very searching question had, as yet, been put to Mary 
 Monson. This the coroner saw, and he did not fail to let 
 it be understood that he was aware of the weakness of the 
 objection. 
 
 " Coroners are not governed by precisely the same rules 
 as ordinary committing magistrates," he quietly observed, 
 <; though we equally respect the rules of evidence. No 
 witness is obliged to answer a question before an inquest, 
 that will criminate himself, any more than at the Oyer and 
 Terminer. If the lady will say she does not wish to tell 
 her. real name, because it may criminate her, I shall not press 
 the question myself, or allow it to be pressed by others." 
 
 "Very true, sir, but the law requires, in these prelimi- 
 nary proceedings, no more than such accuracy as is con- 
 venient in making out the records. I conceive that in this 
 particular case the question might be varied by asking, 
 'You are known by the name of Mary Monson, I be- 
 lieve ?' " 
 
 " What great harm can it be to this young female to give 
 her real name, Mr. Dunscomb, as I understand you are 
 that distinguished counsellor, if she be perfectly innocent 
 of the death of the Goodwins ? " 
 
 " A perfectly innocent person may have good reasons 
 for wishing to conceal her name. These reasons obtain 
 additional force when we look around us, and see a com- 
 mittee of reporters, who stand ready to transmit all that 
 passes to the press ; but it might better serve the ends of 
 justice to allow me to confer with the witness in private." 
 
 " With all my heart, sir. Take her into one of the jury 
 rooms, and I will put another physician on the stand. 
 When you are through with your consultation, Mr. Duns- 
 comb, we shall be ready to proceed with your client." 
 
 Dunscomb offered his arm to the girl, and led her 
 through the crowd, while a third medical man was sworn. 
 
50 THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 This witness corroborated all of Dr. Coe's opinions, treat- 
 ing the supposition that both the skeletons were those of 
 women with very little respect. It must be admitted that 
 the suspected stranger lost a great deal of ground in the 
 course of that half-hour. In the first place, the discussion 
 about the name was received very much as an admission 
 of guilt ; for Dunscomb's argument that persons who were 
 innocent might have many reasons for concealing their 
 names, did not carry much weight with the good people of 
 Biberry. Then any doubts which might have been raised 
 by McBrain's suggestion concerning the nature of the 
 skeletons, were effectually removed by the corroborating 
 testimony of Dr. Short, who so fully sustained Dr. Coe. 
 So much are the Americans accustomed to refer the de- 
 cision of nearly all questions to numbers, it scarcely exag- 
 gerates the truth to say that, on the stand, the opinion of 
 half a dozen country surveyors touching a problem in 
 geometry would be very apt to overshadow that of a pro- 
 fessor from West Point or old Yale. Majorities are the 
 primum mobile of the common mind, and he who can get 
 the greatest number on his side is very apt to be consid- 
 ered right, and to reap the benefits of being so. 
 
 A fourth and a fifth medical man were examined, and 
 they concurred in the opinions of Dr. Coe and his neigh- 
 bors. All gave it as the result of their inquiries, that they 
 believed the two skulls had been broken with the same in- 
 strument, and that the blow, if it did not cause immediate 
 death, must have had the effect to destroy consciousness. 
 As regards the sex, the answers were given in atone some- 
 what supercilious. 
 
 " Science is a very good thing in its place," observed 
 one of these last witnesses ; " but science is subject to 
 known facts. We all know that Peter Goodwin and his 
 wife lived in that house ; we all know that Dorothy Good- 
 win was a large woman, and that Peter Goodwin was a 
 small man that they were about of a height, in fact and 
 that these skeletons very accurately represent their re- 
 spective statures. We also know that the house is burned, 
 that the old couple are missing, that these bones were 
 found in a wing in which they slept, and that no other 
 bones have been found there. Now, to my judgment, 
 these facts carry as much weight, ay, even more weight, 
 than any scientific reasoning in the premises. I conclude 
 therefore, that these are the remains of Peter and Dorothy 
 Goodwin have no doubt that they are, indeed." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 51 
 
 " Am I permitted to ask this witness a question, Mr. 
 Coroner ?" demanded Dr. McBrain. 
 
 " With all my heart, sir. The jury wishes to ascertain 
 all they can, and our sole object is justice. Our inquests 
 are not very rigid as to forms, and you are welcome to ex- 
 amine the witness as much as you please." 
 
 "You knew Goodwin ?" asked McBrain, directly of the 
 witness. 
 
 " I did, sir ; quite well." 
 
 " Had he all his teeth, as you remember?" 
 
 "I think he had." 
 
 "On the supposition that his front upper teeth were all 
 gone, and that the skeleton you suppose to be his had all 
 the front upper teeth, would you still regard the facts you 
 have mentioned as better, or even as good proof, as the 
 evidence of science, which tells us that the man who has 
 lost his teeth cannot possess them ? " 
 
 " I scarcely call that a scientific fact, at all, sir. Any 
 one may judge of that circumstance, as well as a physician. 
 If it were as you say, I should consider the presence of the 
 teeth pretty good proof that the skeleton was that of some 
 other person, unless the teeth were the work of a dentist." 
 
 " Then why not put any other equally sure anatomical 
 fact in opposition to what is generally supposed, in connec- 
 tion with the wing, the presence of the men, and all the 
 other circumstances you have mentioned ? " 
 
 " If there were any other sure anatomical fact, so I 
 would. But in the condition in which those remains are, 
 I do not think the best anatomist could say that he can 
 distinguish whether they belonged to a man or to a wo- 
 man." 
 
 " I confess that the case has its difficulties," McBrain 
 quietly answered. " Still, I incline to my first opinion. I 
 trust, Mr. Coroner, that the skeletons will be carefully 
 preserved, so long as there may be any reason to continue 
 these legal inquiries ? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir. A box is made for that purpose, and 
 they will be carefully deposited in it as soon as the inquest 
 adjourns for the day. It is no unusual thing, gentlemen, 
 for doctors to disagree." 
 
 This was said with a smile, and had the effect to keep 
 the peace. McBrain, however, had all the modesty of 
 knowledge, and was never disposed to show off his superior 
 attainments in the faces of those wlio might be supposed 
 to know less than himself. Nor was he by any means cer 
 
52 THE WAYS OF THE I/O UK. 
 
 tain of his fact ; though greatly inclined to believe that 
 both the skeletons were those of females. The heat had 
 been so powerful as to derange in some measure, if not 
 entirely to deface, his proofs ; and he was not a man to 
 press a fact, in a case of this magnitude, without sufficient 
 justification. All he now wanted, was to reserve a point 
 that might have a material influence hereafter, in coming 
 to a correct conclusion. 
 
 It was fully an hour before Dunscomb returned, bring- 
 ing Mary Monson on his arm. John followed the latter 
 closely, for, though not admitted to the room in which this 
 long private conference had been held, he had not ceased 
 to pace the gallery in front of its door during the whole 
 time. Dunscomb looked very grave, and, as McBrain 
 thought, he was very expert in interpreting the language 
 of his friend's countenance, disappointed. The girl her- 
 self had evidently been weeping, and that violently. There 
 was a paleness of the face, and a tremor in the frame, too, 
 that caused the observant physician to suppose that, for the 
 first time, she had been made to comprehend that she was 
 the object of such dire distrust. No sooner were the two 
 in their old seats, than the coroner prepared to renew the 
 suspended examination. 
 
 " Witness," repeated that functionary with marked for- 
 mality, " what is your name ? " 
 
 The answer was given in a tremulous voice, but with 
 sufficient readiness, as if previously prepared. 
 
 " I am known, in and around Biberry, by the name of 
 Mary Monson." 
 
 The coroner paused, passed a hand over his brow, mused 
 a moment, and abandoned a half-formed determination he 
 had made, to push this particular inquiry as far as he 
 could. To state the truth, he was a little afraid of Mr. 
 Thomas Dunscomb, whose reputation at the bar was of too 
 high a character to have escaped his notice. On the whole, 
 therefore, he decided to accept the name of Mary Monson, 
 reserving the right of the State to inquire further, here- 
 after. 
 
 " Where do you reside ? " 
 
 " At present, in this place lately, in the family of Peter 
 Goodwin, whose remains are supposed to be in this room." 
 
 " How long had you resided in that family ? " 
 
 " Nine weeks, to a day. I arrived in the morning, and 
 the fire occurred at night." 
 
 " Relate all that you know concerning that fire, if you 
 
THE WAYS OF THE IlOl'K. 5^ 
 
 please, miss I call you miss, supposing you to be unmar- 
 ried ? " 
 
 Mary Monson merely made a slight inclination of her 
 head, as one acknowledges that a remark is heard and un- 
 derstood. This did not more than half satisfy the coroner, 
 his wife, for reasons of her own, having particularly de- 
 sired him to ask the " Monson girl " when she was put on 
 the stand whether she was or was not married. But it was 
 too late just then to ascertain this interesting fact, and the 
 examination proceeded. 
 
 " Relate all that you know concerning the fire, if you 
 please, ma'am." 
 
 " I know very little. I was awakened by a bright light 
 arose, and dressed myself as well as I could, and was 
 about to descend the stairs, when I found I was too late. I 
 then went to a window, and intended to throw my bed out, 
 and let myself down on it, when two men appeared, and 
 raised a ladder by which I got safely out." 
 
 " Were any of your effects saved ? " 
 
 u All, I believe. The same two persons entered my 
 room, and passed my trunks, box, and carpet-bag, writing- 
 desk, and other articles, out of the room, as well as most 
 of its furniture. It was the part of the building last on 
 fire, and it was safe entering the room I occupied, for near 
 half an hour after I escaped." 
 
 " How long had you known the Goodwins ? " 
 
 " From the time when I first came to live in their 
 house." 
 
 " Did you pass the evening of the night of the fire in 
 their company ?" 
 
 " I did not. Very little of my time was passed in their 
 company, unless it was at meals." 
 
 This answer caused a little stir among the audience, of 
 whom much the larger portion thought it contained an ad- 
 mission to be noted. Why should not a young woman 
 who lived in a house so much apart from a general neigh- 
 borhood, not pass most of her time in the company of 
 those with whom she dwelt ? " If they were good enough 
 to live with, I should think they might be good enough to 
 associate with," whispered one of the most active female 
 talkers of Biberry, but in a tone so loud as to be heard by 
 all near her. 
 
 This was merely yielding to a national and increasing 
 susceptibility to personal claims ; it being commonly 
 thought aristocratic to refuse to associate with everybody, 
 
5* THE WAYS OP THE HOUR. 
 
 when the person subject to remark has any apparent acU 
 vantages to render such association desirable. All others 
 may do as they please. 
 
 ** You did not, then, make one of the family regularly, 
 but were there for some particular purpose of your own ?" 
 resumed the coroner. 
 
 " I think, sir, on reflection, that you will see this exam- 
 ination is taking a very irregular course," interposed Duns- 
 comb. " It is more like an investigation for a commitment, 
 than an inquest." 
 
 " The law allows the freest modes of inquiry in all such 
 cases, Mr. Dunscomb. Recollect, sir, there have been ar- 
 son and murder two of the highest crimes known to the 
 books." 
 
 " I do not forget it ; and recognize not only all your 
 rights, sir, but your duties. Nevertheless, this young lady 
 has rights, too, and is to be treated distinctly in one of two 
 characters ; as a witness, or as a party accused. If in the 
 latter, I shall at once advise her to answer no more ques- 
 tions in this state of the case. My duty, as her counsel 
 requires me to say as much." 
 
 " She has, then, regularly retained you, Mr. Dunscomb .** 
 the coroner asked, with interest. 
 
 " That, sir, is a matter between her and myself. I ap- 
 pear here as counsel, and shall claim the rights of one. I 
 know that you can carry on this inquest without my inter- 
 ference, if you see fit ; but no one can exclude the citizen 
 from the benefit of advice. Even the new code, as extrav- 
 agant and high-flying in invention as ever came from the 
 isguided ingenuity of man, will allow of this." 
 
 ''There is no wish, Mr. Dunscomb, to put any obstacles 
 in your way. Let every man do his whole duty. Your 
 client can certainly refuse to answer any questions she 
 may please, on the ground that the answer may tend to 
 criminate herself ; and so may any one else." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir ; the law is still more indulgent 
 in these preliminary proceedings. A party who knows 
 himself to be suspected, has a right to evade questions 
 that may militate against his interests ; else would the 
 boasted protection which the law so far throws around 
 every one, that he need not be his own accuser, become a 
 mere pretence." 
 
 " I shall endeavor to put my questions in such a way as 
 to give her the benefits of all her rights. Miss Monson, it 
 is said that you have been seen, since the fire, to have some 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR, 55 
 
 gold in your possession ; have you any objection to let that 
 gold be seen by the jury ?" 
 
 " None in the world, sir. I have a few gold pieces 
 here they are, in my purse. They do not amount to 
 much, either in numbers or value. You are at liberty to 
 examine them as much as you please." 
 
 Dunscomb had betrayed a little uneasiness at this ques- 
 tion ; but the calm, steady manner in which the young 
 woman answered, and the coolness with which she put 
 her purse into the coroner's hand, -reassured, or rather 
 surprised him. He remained silent, therefore, interpos- 
 ing no objection to the examination. 
 
 " Here are seven half eagles, two quarter-eagles, and a 
 strange coin that I do not remember ever to have seen be- 
 fore," said the coroner. " What do you call this piece, 
 Mr. Dunscomb ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell you, sir ; I do not remember ever to 
 have seen the coin before, myself." 
 
 " It is an Italian coin, of the value of about twenty dol- 
 lars, they tell me," answered Mary, quietly. " I think it 
 is called after the reigning sovereign, whoever he may be. 
 I got it, in exchange for some of our own money, from an 
 emigrant from Europe, and kept it as a thing a little out 
 of the common way." 
 
 The simplicity, distinctness, not to say nerve, with 
 which this was said, placed Dunscomb still more at his 
 ease, and he now freely let the inquiry take its course. 
 All this did not prevent his being astonished that one so 
 young, and seemingly so friendless, should manifest so 
 much coolness and self-possession, under circumstances 
 so very trying. Such was the fact, however ; and he was 
 fain to await further developments, in order better to 
 comprehend the character of his client. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Pope present?" inquired the coroner. "The 
 lady who told us yesterday she had seen the specie of the 
 late Mrs. Goodwin, during the lifetime of the latter?' 
 
 It was almost superfluous to ask if any particular person 
 were present, as nearly all Biberry were in, or about, the 
 court-house. Up started the widow, therefore, at this ap- 
 peal, and coming forward with alacrity, she was imme- 
 diately sworn, which she had not been the previous day, 
 and went on the stand as a regular witness. 
 
 " Your name ? " observed the coroner. 
 
 "Abigail Pope folks write 'relict of John Pope, de- 
 ceased,' in all my law papers." 
 
5 6 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Very well, Mrs. Pope ; the simple name will suffice 
 for the present purposes. Do you reside in this neigh- 
 borhood?" 
 
 " In Biberry. I was born, brought up, married, be- 
 came a widow, and still dwell, all within half-a-mile of this 
 spot. My maiden name was Dickson." 
 
 Absurd and forward as these answers may seem to most 
 persons, they had an effect on the investigation that was 
 then gojng on in Biberry. Most of the audience saw, 
 and felt, the difference between the frank statements of 
 the present witness, and the reserve manifested by the 
 last. 
 
 " Now why couldn't that Mary Monson answer all these 
 questions, just as well as Abigail Pope ? " said one female 
 talker to a knot of listeners. " She has a glib enough 
 tongue in her head, if she only sees fit to use it ! I'll en- 
 gage no one can answer more readily, when she wishes to 
 let a thing out. There's a dreadful history behind the 
 curtain, in my judgment, about that same young woman, 
 could a body only get at it." 
 
 " Mr. Sanford will get at it, before he has done with 
 her, I'll engage," answered a friend. " I have heard it 
 said he is the most investigating coroner in the State, when 
 he sets about a case in good earnest. He'll be very apt 
 to make the most of this, for we never have had anything 
 one-half so exciting in Biberry as these murders ! I have 
 long thought we were rather out of the way of the rest of 
 the world until how ; but our time has come, and we 
 sha'n't very soon hear the last of it ! " 
 
 "It's all in the papers already!" exclaimed a third. 
 " Biberry looks as grand as York, or Albany, in the col- 
 umns of every paper from town this morning ! I declare it 
 did me good to see our little place holding up its head 
 among the great of the earth, as it might be ' 
 
 What else, in the w r ay of local patriotism, may have es- 
 caped this individual cannot now be known, the coroner 
 drawing off her auditors, by the question next put to the 
 widow. 
 
 " Did you ever see any gold coins in the possession of 
 the late Mrs. Goodwin?" asked that functionary. 
 
 "Several times I don't know but I might say often. 
 Five or six times at least. I used to sew for the old lady 
 and you know how it is when a body works, in that way, 
 in a family it's next thing, I do suppose, to being a doc 
 tor, so far as secrets go." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 57 
 
 " Should you know any of that coin were you to see it 
 again, Mrs. Pope ? " 
 
 " I think I might. There's one piece, in partic'lar, that 
 I suppose I should know anywhere. It's a wonderful 
 looking piece of money, and true Californy, I conclude." 
 
 " Did any of Mrs. Goodwin's gold coins bear a resem- 
 blance to this ? " showing a half-eagle. 
 
 " Yes, sir that's a five-dollar piece I've had one of 
 them myself in the course of my life." 
 
 "Mrs. Goodwin had coins similar to this, I then under- 
 stand you to say ? " 
 
 " She had as many as fifty, I should think. Altogether 
 she told me she had as much as four hundred dollars in 
 that stocking ! I remember the sum, for it sounded like a 
 great deal for anybody to have who wasn't a bank like. 
 It quite put me in mind of the place ers." 
 
 "Was there any coin like this?" showing the widow 
 the Italian piece. 
 
 " That's the piece ! I'd know it among a thousand ! I 
 had it in my hands as much as five minutes, trying to read 
 the Latin on it, and make it out into English. All the 
 rest was American gold, the old lady told me ; but this 
 piece she said was foreign." 
 
 This statement produced a great sensation in the court- 
 room. Although Mrs. Pope was flippant, a gossip, and a 
 little notorious for meddling with her neighbors' concerns, 
 no one suspected her of fabricating such a story, under 
 oath. The piece of gold passed from juror to juror ; and 
 each man among them felt satisfied that he would know 
 the coin again, after an interval of a few weeks. Duns- 
 comb probably put less faith in this bit of testimony, than 
 any other person present ; and he was curious to note its 
 effect on his client. To his great surprise she betrayed 
 no uneasiness ; her countenance maintaining a calm that 
 he now began to apprehend denoted a practised art ; and 
 he manifested a desire to examine the piece of gold for 
 himself. It was put in his hand, and he glanced at its 
 face a little eagerly. It was an unusual coin ; but it had 
 no defect or mark that might enable one to distinguish be- 
 tween it and any other piece of a similar impression. The 
 coroner interpreted the meaning of his eye, and suspended 
 the examination of the widow, to question Mary Monson 
 herself. 
 
 " Your client sees the state of the question, Mr. Duns- 
 cornb," he said ; " and you will look to her rights. Mine 
 
58 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 authorize me, as I understand them, to inquire of her 
 concerning a few facts in relation to this piece of money." 
 
 " I will answer your questions, sir, without any hesita- 
 tion," the accused replied, with a degree of steadiness that 
 Dunscomb deemed astonishing. 
 
 " How long has this piece of gold been in your posses- 
 sion, if you please, miss?" 
 
 "About a twelvemonth. I began to collect the gold I 
 have, very nearly a year since." 
 
 " Has it been in your possession, uninterruptedly, all 
 that time." 
 
 " So far as I know, sir, it has. A portion of the time, 
 and a large portion of it, it has not been kept in my purse ; 
 but I should think no one could have meddled with it, when 
 it has been elsewhere." 
 
 " Have you anything to remark on the testimony just 
 given ?" 
 
 " It is strictly true. Poor Mrs. Goodwin certainly had 
 the store of gold mentioned by Mrs. Pope, for she once 
 showed it to me. I rather think she was fond of such 
 things ; and had a pleasure in counting her hoards, and 
 showing them to other persons. I looked over her coins ; 
 and finding she was fond of those that are a little uncom- 
 mon, I gave her one or two of those that I happened to 
 own. No doubt, Mrs. Pope saw the counterpart of this 
 piece, but surely not the piece itself." 
 
 " I understand you to say, then, that Mrs. Goodwin had 
 a gold coin similar to this, which gold coin came from 
 yourself. What did Mrs. Goodwin allow you in the ex- 
 change ? " 
 
 " Sir ? " 
 
 " How much did you estimate the value of that Italian 
 piece at, and in what money did Mrs. Goodwin pay you 
 for it ? It is necessary to be particular in these cases." 
 
 " She returned me nothing for the coin, sir. It was a 
 present from me to her, and of course not to be paid 
 for." 
 
 This answer met with but little favor. It did not ap- 
 pear to the people of Biberry at all probable that an un- 
 known, and seemingly friendless young woman, who had 
 been content to dwell two months in the "garret-room " 
 of the "old Goodwin house," faring none of the best, cer- 
 tainly, and neglecting so many superior tenements and 
 tables that were to be met with on every side of her, 
 would be very likely to give away a piece of gold of that 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 59 
 
 unusual size. It is true, we are living in a marvellous age, 
 so far as this metal is concerned ; but the California!! gold 
 had not then arrived in any great quantity, and the people 
 of the country are little accustomed to see anything but 
 silver and paper, which causes them to attach an unwonted 
 value to the more precious metal. Even the coroner took 
 this view of the matter ; ,and Dunscomb saw that the ex- 
 planation just made by his client was thought to prove 
 too much. 
 
 " Are you in the habit, miss, of giving away pieces of 
 gold ?" asked one of the jurors. 
 
 " That question is improper," interposed Mr. Dunscomb. 
 " No one can have a right to put it." 
 
 The coroner sustained this objection, and no answer was 
 given. As Mrs. Pope had suggested that others, besides 
 herself, had seen Mrs. Goodwin's stocking, four more wit- 
 nesses were examined to this one point. They were all 
 females, who had been admitted by the deceased, in the 
 indulgence of her passion, to feast their eyes with a sight 
 of her treasure. Only one, however, of these four pro- 
 fessed to have any recollection of the particular coin that 
 had now become,' as it might be, the pivoting point in the 
 inquiry ; and her recollections were by no means as clear 
 as those of the widow. She thought she had seen such a 
 piece of gold in Mrs. Goodwin's possession, though she 
 admitted she was not allowed to touch any of the money, 
 which was merely held up, piece by piece, before her ad- 
 miring eyes, in the hands of its prop&r owner. It was in 
 this state of the inquiry that Dunscomb remarked to the 
 coroner, " that it was not at all surprising a woman who 
 was so fond of exposing her treasure should be robbed 
 and murdered!" This remark, however, failed of its in- 
 tended effect, in consequence of the manner in which sus- 
 picion had become riveted, as it might be, through the 
 testimony of Mrs. Pope, on the stranger who had so mys- 
 teriously come to lodge with the Goodwins. The general 
 impression now appeared to be that the whole matter had 
 been previously arranged, an4. that the stranger had come 
 to dwell in the house expressly to obtain facilities for the 
 commission of the crime. 
 
 A witness who was related to the deceased, who was ab- 
 sent from home, but had been told, by means of the wires, 
 to return, and who had intimated an intention to comply, 
 was still wanting ; and the inquest was again adjourned 
 for j*n hour, in order to allow of the arrival of a stage from 
 
60 THE WAYS OF THE HO UK. 
 
 town. During this interval, Dunscomb ascertained how 
 strongly the current was setting against his client. A hun- 
 dred little circumstances were cited, in confirmation of 
 suspicions that had now gained a firm footing, and which 
 were so nearly general as to include almost every person 
 of any consequence in the place. What appeared strangest 
 to Dunscomb was the composure of the young girl who 
 was so likely to be formally accused of crimes so heinous. 
 He had told her of the nature of the distrust that was at- 
 tached to her situation, and she received his statement 
 with a degree of emotion that, at first, had alarmed him. 
 But an unaccountable calmness soon succeeded this burst 
 of feeling, and he had found it necessary to draw confi- 
 dence in the innocence of his client from that strangely 
 illuminated countenance, to study which was almost certain 
 to subdue a man by its power. While thus gazing at the 
 stranger, he could not believe her guilty ; but, while re- 
 flecting on all the facts of the case, he saw T how difficult 
 it might be to persuade others to entertain the same 
 opinion. Nor were there circumstances wanting to shake 
 his own faith in expression, sex, years, and all the other 
 probabilities. Mary Monson had declined entering at all 
 into any account of her previous life ; evaded giving her 
 real name even to him ; carefully abstained from all allu" 
 sions that might furnish any clew to her former place 
 of abode, or to any fact that would tend to betray hef 
 secret. 
 
 At the appointed hour the stage arrived, bringing the 
 expected witness. His testimony went merely to corrobo- 
 rate the accounts concerning the little hoard of gold that 
 his kinswoman had undeniably possessed, and to the cir- 
 cumstance that she always kept it in a particular drawer 
 of her bureau. The bureau had been saved, for it did not 
 stand in the sleeping-room of the deceased, but had formed 
 a principal embellishment of her little parlor, and the 
 money was not in it. What was more, each drawer was 
 carefully locked, but no keys were to be found. As these 
 were articles not likely to be melted under any heat to 
 which they might have been exposed, a careful but fruit- 
 less search had been made for them among the ruins. 
 They were nowhere to be seen. 
 
 About nine o'clock in the evening, the jury brought in 
 the result of their inquest. It was a verdict of murder in 
 the first degree, committed, in the opinion of the jurors, 
 by a female who was known by the name of Mary Monson, 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 6l 
 
 With the accusation of arson, the coroner's inquest, as a 
 matter of course, had no connection. A writ was immedi' 
 ately issued, arid the accused arrested. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " It was the English," Kasper cried, 
 
 " Who put the French to rout; 
 But what they killed each other for, 
 
 I could not well make out. 
 But everybody said," quoth he, 
 
 "That 'twas a famous victory." SoUTHEY. 
 
 THE following day, after an early breakfast, Dunscomb 
 and his friend the doctor were on their way back to town. 
 The former had clients and courts, and the latter patients, 
 who were not to be neglected, to say nothing of the claims 
 of Sarah and Mrs. Updyke. John and Michael remained 
 at Biberry ; the first being detained there by divers com- 
 missions connected with the comforts and treatment of 
 Mary Monson, but still more by his own inclinations ; and 
 the last remaining, somewhat against his wishes, as a com- 
 panion to the brother of her who so strongly drew him 
 back to New York. 
 
 As the commitment was for offences so serious, crimes 
 as grave as any known to the law, bail would not have been 
 accepted, could any have been found. We ought not to 
 speak with too much confidence, however, on this last 
 point; for Dr. McBrain, a man of very handsome estate, 
 the result of a liberal profession steadily and intelligently 
 pursued, was more than half disposed to offer himself for 
 one of the sureties, and to go and find a second among his 
 friends. Nothing, indeed, prevented his doing so, but 
 Dunscomb's repeated assurances that no bondsmen would 
 be received. Even charming young women, when they 
 stand charged with murder and arson, must submit to be 
 incarcerated, until their innocence is established in due 
 form of law ; or, what is the same thing, in effect, until 
 the caprice, impulses, ignorance, or corruption of a jury 
 acquits them. 
 
 The friends did not entirely agree in their manner of 
 viewing this affair. The doctor was firmly impressed with 
 the conviction of Mary Monson's innocence, while Duns- 
 comb, more experienced in the ways of crime and the in* 
 
62 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 firmities of the human heart, had his misgivings. So many 
 grounds of suspicion had occurred, or been laid open to 
 his observation, during the hour of private communication, 
 that it was not easy for one who had seen so much of the 
 worst side of human nature, to cast them off under the 
 mere influence of a graceful form, winning manner, and 
 bright countenance. Then, the secondary facts, well estab- 
 lished, and, in one important particular, admitted by the 
 party accused, were not of a character to be overlooked. 
 It often happens, and Dunscomb well knew it, that inno- 
 cence appears under a repulsive exterior, while guilt con- 
 ceals itself in forms and aspects so fair, as to deceive all 
 but the wary and experienced. 
 
 " I hope that the comfort of Miss Monson has been prop- 
 perly attended to, since she must be confined for a few 
 days," said McBrain, while he took a last look at the little 
 jail, as the carriage passed the brow of the hill. "Justice 
 can ask no more than security." 
 
 "It is a blot on the character of the 'times, and on this 
 country in particular," answered Dunscomb, coldly, "that 
 so little attention is paid to the jails. We are crammed 
 with false philanthropy in connection with convicted 
 rogues, who ought to be made to feel the penalties of 
 their offences ; while we are not even just in regard to 
 those who are only accused, many of whom are really in- 
 nocent. But for my interference, this delicate and friend- 
 less girl would, in all probability, have been immured in a 
 common dungeon." 
 
 " What ! before her guilt is established ? " 
 < " Relatively, her treatment after conviction would be 
 far more humane than previously to that event. Comfort- 
 able, well-furnished, but secure apartments ought to be 
 provided for the accused in every county in the State, as 
 acts of simple justice, before another word of mawkish 
 humanity is uttered on the subject of the treatment of 
 recognized criminals. It is wonderful what a disposition 
 there is among men to run into octaves, in everything they 
 do, forgetting that your true melody is to be found only 
 in the simpler and more natural notes. There is as much 
 of the falsetto nowadays in philanthropy as in music." 
 
 "And this poor girl is thrust into a dungeon ? " 
 
 " No ; it is not quite as bad as that. The jail has one 
 decent apartment, that was fitted up for the comfort of a 
 prize-fighter, who was confined in it not long since ; and as 
 the room is sufficiently secure, I have persuaded the jailer's 
 
THE IV AYS OF THE HOUR. 63 
 
 wife to put Mary Monson in it. Apart from loss of air 
 and exercise, and the happiness of knowing herself re 
 spected and beloved, the girl will not be very badly off 
 there. I dare say, the room is quite as good as that she 
 occupied under the roof of those unfortunate Goodwins," 
 
 " How strange that a female of her appearance should 
 have been the inmate of such a place ! She does not seem 
 to want money, either. You saw the gold she had in her 
 purse ? " 
 
 " Ay ; it were better had that gold not been there, or 
 not seen. I sincerely wish it had been nothing but silver." 
 
 "You surely do not agree with that silly woman, the 
 Widow Pope, as they call her, in believing that she has got 
 the money of those persons who have been murdered?" 
 
 " On that subject, I choose to suspend my opinion I 
 may, or I may not, as matters shall turn up. She has 
 money ; and in sufficient quantity to buy herself out of 
 jeopardy. At least, she offered me a fee of a hundred dol- 
 lars, in good city paper." 
 
 "Which you did not take, Tom?" 
 
 "Why not? It is my trade, and I live by it. Why not 
 take her fee, if you please, sir ? Does the Widow Updyke 
 teach you such doctrines ? Will you drive about town for 
 nothing? Why not take her fee, Master Ned?" 
 
 " Why not, sure enough ! That girl has bewitched me, 
 I believe ; and that is the solution." 
 
 " I tell you what, Ned, unless there is a stop put to this 
 folly, I'll make Mrs. Updyke acquainted with the whole 
 matter, and put an end to nuptials No. 3. Jack is head and 
 ears in love, already ; and here you are flying off at a tan- 
 gent from all your engagements and professions, to fall at 
 the feet of an unknown girl of twenty, who appears be- 
 fore you, on a first interview, in the amiable light of one 
 accused of the highest crimes." 
 
 " And of which I no more believe her guilty than I be- 
 lieve you to be guilty of them." 
 
 " Umph ! ' Time will show ; ' which is the English, I 
 suppose, of the * nous verrons ' that is flying about in the 
 newspapers. Yes, she has money to buy three or four 
 journals, to get up a * sympathy ' in her behalf, when her 
 acquittal would be almost certain, if her trial were not a 
 legal impossibility. I am not sure it is not her safest 
 course, in the actual state of the facts." 
 
 "Would you think, Dunscomb, of advising any one who 
 looked up to you for counsel, to take such a tourse?" 
 
64 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Certainly not and you know it, well enough, Mo 
 Brain ; but that does not lessen, or increase, the chances of 
 the expedient. The journals have greatly weakened their 
 own power, by the manner in which they have abused it ; 
 but enough still remains to hoodwink, not to say to over- 
 shadow, justice. The law is very explicit and farsighted as 
 to the consequences of allowing any one to influence the 
 public mind in matters of its own adminstration ; but in a 
 country like this, in which the virtue and intelligence of the 
 people are said to be \\\t prim-urn mobile in everything, there 
 is no one to enforce the ordinances that the wisdom of our 
 ancestors has bequeathed to us. Any editor of a news- 
 paper who publishes a sentence reflecting on the character 
 or rights of a party to a pending suit, is guilty at common 
 law,, of what the books call a * libel on the courts of justice,' 
 and can be punished for it, as for any other misdemeanor ; 
 yet, you can see for yourself, how little such a provision, 
 healthful and most wise nay, essential as it is to justice 
 is looked down by the mania which exists of putting every- 
 thing into print. When one remembers that very little of 
 what he reads is true, it is fearful to reflect that a system 
 of which the whole merit depends on its power to extract 
 facts, and to do justice on their warranty, should be com- 
 pletely overshadowed by another contrivance which, when 
 stripped of its pretension, and regarded in its real colors, 
 is nothing more than one of the ten thousand schemes to 
 make money that surrounds us, with a little higher preten- 
 sion than common to virtue." 
 
 "'Completely overshadowed ' are strong words, Duns- 
 comb ! " 
 
 " Perhaps they are, and they may need a little qualify- 
 ing. Overshadowed often much too often, however, is 
 not a particle stronger than I am justified in using. Every 
 one, who thinks at all, sees and feels the truth of this ; but 
 here is the weak side of a popular government. The laws 
 are enforced by means of public virtue, and public virtue, 
 like private virtue, is very frail. We all are willing enough 
 to admit the last, as regards our neighbors at least, while 
 there seems to exist, in most minds, a species of idolatrous 
 veneration for the common sentiment, as sheer a quality 
 of straw, as any image of a lover drawn by the most heated 
 imagination of sixteen." 
 
 " You surely do 'not disregard public opinion, Tom, or 
 set it down as unworthy of all respect !" 
 
 " By no means ; if you mean that opinion which is the 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. w 65 
 
 result of deliberate judgment, and has a direct connection 
 with our religion, morals, and manners. That is a public 
 opinion to which we all ought to defer, when it is fairly 
 made up, and has been distinctly and independently pro- 
 nounced ; most especially when it conies from high quar- 
 ters, and not from low. But the country is full of simu- 
 lated public opinion, in the first place, and it is not^aiways 
 easy to tell the false from the true. Yes, the country is 
 full of what I shall call an artificial public opinion, that has 
 been got up to effect a purpose, and to that no wise man 
 will defer, if he can help it. Now look at our scheme of 
 administering justice. Twelve men taken out of the 
 bosom of the community, by a species of lottery, are set 
 apart to pronounce on your fortune, or mine nay, to ut- 
 ter the fearful words of 'guilty,' or 'not guilty.' All the 
 accessories of this plan, as they exist here, make against 
 its success. In the first place, the jurors are paid, and that 
 just enough to induce the humblest on the list to serve, 
 and not enough to induce the educated and intelligent. It 
 is a day-laborer's jvages, and the day-laborer will be most 
 likely to profit by it. Men who are content to toil for 
 seventy-five cents a day are very willing to serve on juries 
 for a dollar ; while those whose qualifications enable them 
 to obtain enough to pay their fines, disregard the penalty, 
 and stay away." 
 
 "Why is not an evil as flagrant as this remedied? I 
 should think the whole bar would protest against it." 
 
 " With what result ? Who cares for the bar ? Legisla- 
 tors alone can change this system, and men very different 
 from those who are now sent must go to the legislature, 
 before one is found, honest enough, or bold enough, to get 
 up and tell the people they are not all fit to be trusted. No, 
 no ; this is not the way of the hour. We have a cycle in 
 opinion to make, and it may be that when the round is fairly 
 made, men may come back to their senses, and perceive 
 the necessity of fencing in justice by some of the useful 
 provisions that we are now so liberally throwing away. 
 To tell you the truth, Ned, the State is submitting to the 
 influence of two of the silliest motives that can govern men 
 ultra conservatism, and ultra progress ; the one holding 
 back, often, to preserve that which is not worth keeping ; 
 and the other ' going ahead,' as it is termed, merely for the 
 sake of boasting of their onward tendencies. Neither 
 course is in the least suited to the actual wants of society, 
 and each is pernicious in its way." 
 
66 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " It is thought, however, that when opinion thus strug* 
 gles with opinion, a healthful compromise is made, in 
 which society finds its advantage." 
 
 " The cant of mediocrity, depend on it, Ned. In the 
 first place, there is no compromise about it ; one side or 
 the other gains the victory ; and as success is sustained by 
 numbers, the conquerors push their advantages to the 
 utmost. They think of their own grosser interests, their 
 passions and prejudices, rather than of any 'healthful 
 compromise,' as you term it. What compromise is there 
 in this infernal code ? " Dunscomb was an ultra himself, 
 in opposition to a system that has a good deal of that 
 which is useful, diluted by more that is not quite so good 
 "or what in this matter of the election of judges by the 
 people ? As respects the last, for instance, had the tenure 
 of office been made 'good behavior,' there would have 
 been something like a compromise ; but no the conquer- 
 ors took all ; and what is worse, the conquerors were 
 actually a minority of the voters, so easy is it to cow even 
 numbers by political chicanery. In* this respect, de- 
 mocracy is no more infallible than any other form of gov- 
 ernment." 
 
 " I confess, I do not see how this is shown, since the 
 polls were free to every citizen." 
 
 "The result fairly proves it. Less than half of the 
 known number of the electors voted for the change. 
 Now it is absurd to suppose that men who really and 
 affirmatively wished a new constitution would stay away 
 from the polls." 
 
 u More so than to suppose that they who did not wish it 
 would stay away, too ? " 
 
 " More so, and for this reason. Thousands fancied it 
 useless to stem the current of what they fancied a popular 
 movement, and were passive in the matter. Any man, of 
 an extensive acquaintance, may easily count a hundred 
 such idlers. Then a good many stood on their legal 
 rights, and refused to vote, because the manner of pro- 
 ducing the change was a palpable violation of a previous 
 contract ; the old constitution pointing out the manner in 
 which the instrument could be altered, which was not the 
 mode adopted. Then tens of thousands voted for the new 
 constitution, who did not know anything about it. They 
 loved change, and voted for change's sake ; and, possibly, 
 with some vague notion that they were to be benefited by 
 making the institutions as popular as possible." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 67 
 
 "And is nut this the truth? Will not the mass be 
 all the better off by exercising as much power as they 
 can ? " 
 
 " No ; and for the simple reason that masses cannot, in 
 the nature of things, exercise more than a very limited 
 power. You, yourself, for instance, one of the mass, can- 
 not exercise this very power of choosing a judge, as it 
 ought to be exercised, and of course are liable to do more 
 harm than good." 
 
 " The deuce I cannot ! Why is not my vote as good as 
 your own ? or that of any other man ? " 
 
 " For the simple reason that you are ignorant of the 
 whole matter. Ask yourself the question, and answer it 
 like an honest man ; would you could you, with the 
 knowledge you possess, lay your finger on any man in this 
 community, and say, ' I make you a judge ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes ; my finger would be laid on you, in a minute/' 
 
 " Ah, Ned, that will do, as a friend ; but how would it 
 do as a judicious selection of a judge you do not know ? 
 You are ignorant of the law, and must necessarily be 
 ignorant of the qualifications of any particular person to 
 be an interpreter of it. What is true of you, is equally 
 true of a vast majority of those who are now the electors 
 of our judges." 
 
 " I am not a little surprised, Tom, to hear you talk in 
 this way ; for you profess to be a democrat ! " 
 
 "To the extent of giving the people all power, in the 
 last resort all power that they can intelligently and use* 
 fully use ; but not to the extent of permitting them to 
 make the laws, and to execute the laws, and to interpret 
 the laws. All that the people want is sufficient power to 
 secure their liberties, which is simply such a state of 
 things as shall secure what is right between man and man. 
 Now it is the want of this all-important security, in a 
 practical point of view, of which I complain. Rely on it, 
 Ned, the people gain nothing by exercising an authority 
 that they do not know how to turn to good account. 
 It were far better for them, and for the State, to confine 
 themselves to the choice of general agents, of whose char- 
 acters they may know something, and then confide all 
 other powers to servants appointed by those named by 
 these agents, holding all alike to a rigid responsibility. 
 As for the judges, they will soon take decided party char- 
 acter ; and men will as blindly accuse, and as blindly de- 
 fend them, as they now do their other leading partisans 
 
68 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 What between the bench and the jury-box, we shall shortly 
 enjoy a legal pandemonium." 
 
 " Yet there are those who think the trial by jury is the 
 palladium of our liberties." 
 
 Dunscomb laughed outright, for he recollected his con- 
 versation with the young men, which we have already 
 related. Then suppressing his risible propensity, he con- 
 tinued gravely 
 
 "Yes, one or two papers, well feed by this young 
 woman's spare cash, might do her more good than any 
 service I can render her. I dare say the accounts now 
 published, or soon to be published, will leave a strong 
 bias against her." 
 
 " Why not fee a reporter as well as a lawyer, eh, Turn ? 
 There is no great difference, as I can see." 
 
 " Yes, you can, and will, too, as soon as you look into tine 
 matter. A lawyer is paid for a known and authorized as- 
 sistance, and the public recognize in him one engaged in 
 the interests of his client, and accepts his statements and 
 efforts accordingly. But the conductor of a public journal 
 sets up a claim to strict impartiality, in his very profession, 
 and should tell nothing but what he believes to be true, 
 neither inventing nor suppressing. Iii his facts he is 
 merely the publisher of a record ; in his reasoning a judge ; 
 not an advocate." 
 
 The doctor now laughed, in his turn, and well he might ; 
 few men being so ignorant as not to understand how far 
 removed from all this are "most of those who control the 
 public journals. 
 
 " After all, it is a tremendous power to confide to irre- 
 sponsible men ! " he claimed. 
 
 " That it is, and there is nothing among us that so com- 
 pletely demonstrates how far, very far, the public mind is 
 in the rear of the facts of the country, than the blind, reck- 
 less manner in which the press is permitted to tyrannize 
 over the community in the midst of all our hosannasto the 
 Goddess of Liberty. Because, forsooth, what is termed a 
 free press is useful, and has been useful in curbing an ir- 
 responsible, hereditary power, in other lands, we are just 
 stupid enough to think it is of equal importance here, 
 where no such power exists, and where all that remains to 
 be done is to strictly maintain the equal rights of all classes 
 of citizens. Did we understand ourselves, and our real 
 wants, not a paper should be printed in the State that did 
 not make a deposit to meet the legal penalties it might in' 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 69 
 
 cur by the abuse of its trust. This is or was done in France, 
 the country of all others that best respects equality of 
 rights in theory, if not in practice ! " 
 
 " You surely would not place restrictions on the press ! " 
 
 " I would though, and very severe restrictions, as salu- 
 tary checks on the immense power it wields. I would, for 
 instance, forbid the publication of any statement what- 
 ever, touching parties in the courts, whether in civil or 
 criminal cases, pending the actions, that the public mind 
 might not be tainted, by design. Give the right to publish, 
 and it will be, and is abused, and that most flagrantly, to 
 meet the wishes of corruption. I tell you, Ned, as soon as 
 you make a trade of news, you create a stock market that 
 will have its rise and fall, under the impulses of fear, false- 
 hood, and favor, just like your money transactions. It is 
 a perversion of the nature of things, to make of news more 
 than a simple statement of what has actually occurred." 
 
 " It is surely natural to lie ! " 
 
 "That is it, and this is the very reason we should not 
 throw extraordinary protection around a thousand tongues 
 which speak by means of types, that we do not give to the 
 natural member. The lie that is told by the press is ten 
 thousand times a lie, in comparison with that which issues 
 from the mouth of man." 
 
 " By George, Tom, if I had your views, I would see that 
 some of this strange young woman's money should be used 
 in sustaining her, by means of the agents you mention ! " 
 
 " That would never do. This is one of the cases in which, 
 'want of principle' has an ascendancy over 'principle.' 
 The upright man cannot consent to use improper instru- 
 ments, while the dishonest fellows seize on them with 
 avidity. So much the greater, therefore, is the necessity 
 for the law's watching the interests of the first with the ut- 
 most jealousy. But, unfortunately, we run away with the 
 sound, and overlook the sense of things." 
 
 We have related this conversation at a length which a 
 certain class of our readers will probably find tedious, but 
 it is necessary to a right comprehension of various features 
 in the picture we are about to draw. At the Stag's Head 
 the friends stopped to let the horses blow, and, while the 
 animals were cooling themselves under the care of Stephen 
 Hoof, McBrain's coachman, the gentlemen took a short 
 walk in the hamlet. At several points, as they moved 
 along, they overheard the subject of the murders alluded 
 to, and saw divers newspapers, in the hands of sundry in- 
 
70 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 dividuals, who were eagerly perusing accounts of the same 
 events ; sometimes by themselves, but oftener to groups of 
 attentive listeners. The travellers were now so near town 
 as to be completely within its moral, not to say physical, 
 atmosphere being little more than a suburb of New 
 York. On their return to the inn, the doctor stopped un- 
 der the shed to look at his horses, before Stephen checked 
 them up again, previously to a fresh start. Stephen was 
 neither an Irishman nor a black ; but a regular old-fash- 
 ioned, Manhattanese coachman ; a class apart, and of whom, 
 in the confusion of tongues that pervades that modern 
 Babel, a few still remain, like monuments of the past, 
 scattered along the Appian Way. 
 
 " How do your horses stand the heat, Stephen ? " the 
 doctor kindly inquired, always speaking of the beasts as if 
 they were the property of the coachman, and not of him- 
 self. " Pill looks as if he had been well warmed this 
 morning." 
 
 " Yes, sir, he takes it somewhat hotter than Poleus, in 
 the spring of the year, as a gineral thing. Pill vill vork 
 famously, if a body vill only give him his feed in vhat I 
 calls a genteel vay ; but them 'ere country taverns has 
 nothing nice about 'em, not even a clean manger ; and a 
 town horse that is accustomed to a sweet stable and proper 
 company, won't stand up to the rack as he should do, in 
 one of their holes. Now, Poleus, I calls a gineral feeder ; 
 it makes no matter vith him vhether he is at home, or out 
 on a farm he finishes his oats ; but it isn't so vith Pill, sir 
 his stomach is delicate, and the horse that don't get his 
 proper food vill sweat, summer or vinter." 
 
 " I sometimes think, Stephen, it might be better to take 
 them both off their oats for a few days, and let blood, per- 
 haps ; they say that the fleam is as good for a horse as the 
 lancet is for a man." 
 
 " Don't think on't, sir, I beg of you ! I'm sure they has 
 doctor-stuff in their names, not to crowd 'em down vith 
 any more, jist as varm veather is a settin' in. Oats is 
 physic enough for a horse, and vhen the creaturs vants 
 anything more, sir, jist leave 'em to me. I knows as pecul- 
 iar a drench as ever vas poured down a vheeler's throat, 
 vithout troublin' that academy in Barclay Street, vhere so 
 many gentlemen goes two or three times a veek, and vhere, 
 they do say, so many goes in as never comes out whole." 
 
 "Well, Stephen, I'll not interfere with your treatment, 
 for I confess to very little knowledge of the diseases of 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. ji 
 
 horses. What have you got in the paper there, that I see 
 you have been reading?" 
 
 " Vhy, sir," answered Stephen, scratching his head, " it's 
 all about our affair, up yonder." 
 
 " Our affair ! Oh ! you mean the inquest, and the mur- 
 der. Well, what does the paper say about it, Hoof ?" 
 
 " It says it's a most ' thrilling a'count,' sir, and an ' awful 
 tragedy,' and it venders vhat young vomen is a-coming to 
 next. I am pretty much of the same vay of thinking, sir, 
 myself." 
 
 "You are in the habit of thinking very much as the 
 newspapers do, are you not, Stephen ? " asked Dunscomb. 
 
 " Veil, Squire Dunscomb, you've hit. it ! There is an 
 onaccountable resemblance, like, in our thoughts. I hardly 
 ever set down to read a paper, that, afore I've got half-way 
 through it, I find it thinking just as I do ! It puzzles me 
 to know how them that writes for these papers finds out a 
 body's thoughts so veil ! " 
 
 " They have a way of doing it ; but it is too long a story 
 to go over now. So this paper has something to say about 
 our young woman, has it, Stephen ? and it mentions the 
 Biberry business ?" 
 
 " A good deal, Squire ; and vhat I calls good sense too. 
 Vhy, gentlemen, vhat shall we all come to, if young gals 
 of fifteen can knock us in the head, matched, like, or in 
 pairs, killinga whole team at one blow, and then set fire to 
 the stables, and burn us up to our anatomies ?" 
 
 " Fifteen ! Does your account say that Miss Monson is 
 only fifteen, Hoof?" 
 
 " ' She appears to be of the tender age of fifteen, and is 
 of extrornary personal attractions.' Them's the werry 
 vords, sir ; but perhaps you'd like to read it yourselves, 
 gentlemen ? " 
 
 As Stephen made this remark, he very civilly offered the 
 journal to Dunscomb, who took it ; but was not disposed 
 to drop the conversation just then to read it, though his eye 
 did glance at the article, as he continued the subject. This 
 was a habit with him ; his clerks often saying he could 
 carry the chains of arguments of two subjects in his mind 
 at the same moment. His present object was to ascertain 
 from this man what might be the popular feeling in regard 
 to his client, at the place they had just left, and the scene 
 of the events themselves. 
 
 " What is thought and said, at Biberry, among those with 
 whom you talked, Stephen, concerning this matter ? " 
 
72 THE WAYS OF THE 
 
 "That it's a most awful ewent, Squire! One of the 
 werry vorst that has happened in these werry vicked times, 
 sir. I heard one gentleman go over all the murders that 
 has taken place about York during these last ten years, and 
 a perdigious sight on 'em there vas ; so many, that I began 
 to vender I vasn't one of the wictims myself ; but he 
 counted 'em off on his fingers, and made this out to be one 
 of the werry vorst of 'em all, sir. He did, indeed, sir." 
 
 " Was he a reporter, Stephen ? one of the persons who 
 are sent out by the papers to collect news ? " 
 
 " I believe he vas, sir. Quite a gentleman ; and vith 
 something to say to all he met. He often came out to the 
 stables, and had a long conwersation vith as poor a feller 
 as I be." 
 
 " Pray, what could he have to say to you, Stephen ? " de- 
 manded the doctor, a little gravely. 
 
 " Oh ! lots of things, sir. He began by praising the 
 horses, and asking their names. I gave him my names, sir, 
 TiQtyourn; for I thought he might get it into print, some- 
 how, that Dr. McBrain calls his coach-horses after his physic, 
 Pill and Poleus " " Bolus " was the real appellation that 
 the owner had been pleased to give this beast ; but as 
 Stephen fancied the word had some connection with " pole- 
 horse," he chose to pronounce it as written. " Yes, I didn't 
 vishyvur names to get into the papers, sir ; and so I told 
 him * Pill ' vas called ' Marygoold,' and ' Poleus,' ' Dande- 
 lion.' He promised an article about 'em, sir ; and I gave 
 him the ages, blood, sires, and dams, of both the beauties. 
 He told me he thought the names delightful ; and I'm 
 in hopes, sir, you'll give up yourn, arter all, and take to 
 mine altogether." 
 
 " We shall see. And he promised an article, did he ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, quite woluritary. I know'd that the horses 
 couldn't be outdone, and told him as much as that ; for I 
 thought, as the subject vas up, it might be as veil to do 
 'em all the credit I could. Perhaps, vhen they gets too old 
 for vork, you might vish to part vith 'em, sir, and then a 
 good newspaper character could do 'em no great harm." 
 
 Stephen was a particularly honest fellow, as to things in 
 general ; but he had the infirmity which seems to be so 
 general among men, that of a propensity to cheat in a 
 transfer of horse-flesh. Dunscomb was amused at this ex- 
 hibition of character, of which he had seen so much in his 
 day, and felt disposed to follow it up. 
 
 " I believe you had some difficulty^ in choosing one of 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 73 
 
 the horses, Stephen" McBrain commissioned his coachman 
 to do all the bargaining of this sort, and had never lost a 
 cent by his confidence "Pill, I think it was, that didn't 
 bring as good a character as he might have done ?" 
 
 " Beg your pardon, Squire, 'twasn't he, but Marygoold. 
 Vhy, the thing vas this : a gentleman of the church had 
 bought Marygoold to go in a buggy ; but soon vanted to 
 part vith him, 'cause of his shyin' in single harness, vhich 
 frightened his vife, as he said. Now all the difficulty vas 
 in this one thing not that I cared at all about the creatur's 
 shyin', vhich vas no great matter in double harness, you 
 know, sir, and a body could soon coax him out of the notion 
 on it, by judgematical drivin' ; but the difficulty vas here 
 if the owner of a horse owned so much ag'in his charac- 
 ter, there must be a great deal behind, that a feller must 
 find out as veil as he could. I've know'd a foundered ani- 
 mal put off under a character for shyin'." 
 
 " And the owner a clergyman, Stephen ? " 
 
 "Perhaps not, sir. But it makes no great matter in 
 tradin' horses ; church and the vorld is much of a much- 
 ness." 
 
 " Did that reporting gentleman ask any questions con- 
 cerning the owner, as well as concerning the horses ?" 
 
 " Vhy, yes, sir ; vhen he vas done vith the animals, he 
 did make a few observations about the doctor. He vanted 
 to know if he vas married yet, and vhen it vas to happen ; 
 and how much I thought he might be vorth, and how much 
 Mrs. Updyke vas counted for ; and if there vas children ; 
 and vhich house the family vas to live in ; 'and vhere he 
 should keep the slate arter the veddin' had come off ; and 
 how much the doctor's practice vas vorth ; and vhether he 
 vas vhig or locy ; and, most of all, he vanted to know vhy 
 he and you, sir, should go to Biberry about this murder." 
 
 "What did you tell him, Stephen, in reference to the 
 last ? " 
 
 " Vhat could I, sir ? I don't know, myself. I've druv' 
 the doctor often and often to see them that has died soon 
 arter our wisit ; but I never druv' him, afore, to wisit the 
 dead. That gentleman seemed to think he vas much mis- 
 taken about the skeletons ; but it's all in the paper, sir." 
 
 On hearing this, Dunscomb quickly turned to the col- 
 umns of the journal again, and was soon reading their 
 contents aloud to his friends ; in the meantime Stephen 
 set Marygoold and Dandelion in motion once more. 
 
 The account was much as Dunscomb expected to find it; 
 
74 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 so written as to do no possible good, while it might do a 
 great deal of harm. The intention was to feed a morbid 
 feeling in the vulgar for exaggerated accounts of the 
 shocking the motive being gain. Anything that would 
 sell, was grist for this mill ; and the more marvellous and 
 terrible the history of the event could be made, the greater 
 was the success likely to be. The allusions to Mary Monson 
 were managed with a good deal of address ; for, while 
 there was a seeming respect for her rights, the reader was 
 left to infer that her guilt was not only beyond a question, 
 but of the darkest dye. It was while reading and com- 
 menting on these articles, that the carriage entered Broad- 
 way, and soon set Dunscomb down at his own door. There 
 the doctor left it ; choosing to walk as far as Mrs. Up- 
 dyke's rather than give Stephen more materials for the re- 
 porter. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Then none was for a party ; 
 
 Then all were for the state ; 
 Then the great man help'd the poor, 
 
 And the poor man lov'd the great : 
 Then lands were fairly portion' d ; 
 
 Then spoils were fairly sold ; 
 The Romans were like brothers 
 
 In the brave days of old. MACAULAY. 
 
 IT has been said that John Wilmeter was left by his uncle 
 at Biberry, to look after the welfare of their strange client. 
 John, or Jack, as he was commonly called by his familiars, 
 including his pretty sister, was in the main a very good 
 fellow, though far from being free from the infirmities to 
 which the male portion of the human family are subject, 
 when under the age of thirty. He was frank, manly, 
 generous, disposed to think for himself, and, what is some- 
 what unusual with his countrymen, of a temperament that 
 led him to make up his mind suddenly, and was not to be 
 easily swayed by the notions that might be momentarily 
 floating about in the neighborhood. Perhaps a little of 
 a spirit of opposition to the feeling that was so rapidly 
 gaining head in Biberry inclined him to take a warmer 
 interest in the singular female who stood charged with 
 such enormous crimes, than he might otherwise have done. 
 
 The instructions left by Mr, Dunscomb with his nephew 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 75 
 
 ,-ilso gave the latter some uneasiness. In the first place, 
 they had been very ample and thoughtful on the sub- 
 ject of the prisoner's comforts, which, had been seen to 
 in a way that is by no means common in a jail. Money 
 had been used pretty freely in effecting this object, it is 
 true ; but, out of the large towns, money passes for much 
 less on such occasions, in America, than in most other 
 countries. The people are generally kind-hearted, and 
 considerate for the wants of others ; and fair words will 
 usually do quite as much as dollars. Dunscornb, however, 
 had made a very judicious application of both, and beyond 
 the confinement and the fearful nature of the charges 
 brought against her, Mary Monson had very little to com- 
 plain of in her situation. 
 
 The part of his instructions which gave John Wilmeter 
 most uneasiness, which really vexed him, related to the 
 prisoner's innocence or guilt. The uncle distrusted ; the 
 nephew was all confidence. While the first had looked at 
 the circumstances coolly, and was, if anything, leaning to 
 the opinion that there might be truth in the charges, the 
 last beheld in Mary Monson an attractive young person of 
 the other sex, whose innocent countenance was the pledge 
 of an innocent soul. To John, it was preposterous to 
 entertain a charge of this nature against one so singularly 
 gifted. 
 
 " I should as soon think of accusing Sarah of such dark 
 offences, as of accusing this young lady," exclaimed John 
 to his friend Michael Millington, while the two were taking 
 their breakfast next day. " It is preposterous wicked 
 monstrous, to suppose that a young, educated female 
 would, or could, commit such crimes. Why, Mike, she 
 understands French and Italian, and Spanish ; and I think 
 it quite likely that she can also read German, if indeed she 
 cannot speak it." 
 
 " How do you know this ? Has she been making a dis- 
 play of her knowledge ? " 
 
 " Not in the least it all came out as naturally as possi- 
 ble. She asked for some of her own books to read, and 
 when they were brought to her, I found that she had 
 selected works in all four of these languages. T was quite 
 ashamed of my own ignorance, I can assure you ; which 
 amounts to no more than a smattering of French, in the 
 face of her Spanish, Italian and German." 
 
 " Poh ! I shouldn't have minded it in the least," 
 Michael very coolly replied, his mouth being half-full of 
 
7 6 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 beefsteak. " The girls lead us in such things, of course. 
 No man dreams of keeping up with a young lady who 
 has got into the living languages. Miss Wilmeter might 
 teach us both, and laugh at our ignorance, in the bargain." 
 
 " Sarah ! Ay, she is a good enough girl, in her way 
 but no more to be compared 
 
 Jack Wilmeter stopped short, for Millington dropped 
 his knife with not a little clatter, on his plate, and was 
 gazing at his friend in a sort of fierce astonishment. 
 
 "You don't dream of comparing your sister to this un- 
 known and suspected stranger," at length Michael got out, 
 speaking very much like one whose head has been held 
 under water until his breath was nearly exhausted. " You 
 ought to recollect, John, that virtue should never be 
 brought unnecessarily in contact with vice." 
 
 "Mike, and do you, too, believe in the guilt of Mary 
 Monson ? " 
 
 " I believe that she is committed under a verdict given 
 by an inquest, and think it best to suspend my opinion as 
 to the main fact, in waiting for further evidence. Remem- 
 ber, Jack, how often your uncle has told us that, after all, 
 good witnesses were the gist of the law. Let us wait and 
 see what a trial may bring forth." 
 
 Young Wilmeter covered his face with his hands, bowed 
 his head to the table, and ate not another morsel that 
 morning. His good sense admonished him of the pru- 
 dence of the advice just given ; while feelings, impetuous, 
 and excited almost to fierceness, impelled him to go forth 
 and war on all who denied the innocence of the accused. 
 To own the truth, John Wilmeter was fast becoming en- 
 tangled in the meshes of love. 
 
 And, sooth to say, notwithstanding the extreme awk- 
 wardness of her situation, the angry feeling that was so 
 fast rising up against her in Biberry and its vicinity, and 
 the general mystery that concealed her real name, char- 
 acter and history, there was that about Mary Monson, in 
 her countenance, other personal advantages, and most of 
 all in her manner and voice, that might well catch the 
 fancy of a youth of warm feelings, and through his fancy, 
 sooner or later, touch his heart. As yet, John was only 
 under the influence of the new-born sentiment, and had he 
 now been removed from Biberry, it is probable that the 
 feelings and interest which had been so suddenly and 
 powerfully awakened in him would have passed away alto- 
 gether, or remained in shadow on his memory, as a melan 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 77 
 
 choly and yet pleasant record of hours past, under circum- 
 stances in which men live fast, if they do not always live 
 well. Little did the uncle think of the great danger to 
 which he exposed his nephew, when he placed him, like a 
 sentinel in law, on duty near the portal of his immured 
 client. But the experienced Dunscomb was anxious to 
 bring John into active life, and to place him in situations 
 that might lead him to think and execute for himself ; and 
 it had been much his practice, of late, to put the young 
 man forward, whenever circumstances would admit of it. 
 Although the counsellor was more than at his ease in 
 fortune, and John and Sarah each possessed very respect- 
 able means, that placed them altogether above depend- 
 ence, he was exceedingly anxious that his nephew should 
 succeed to his own business, as the surest mode of secur- 
 ing his happiness and respectability in a community where 
 the number of the idle is relatively so small as to render 
 the pursuits of a class, that is by no means without its 
 uses where it can be made to serve the tastes and man- 
 ners of a country, difficult of attainment, He had the 
 same desire in behalf of his niece, or that she should be- 
 come the wife of a man who had something to do ; and the 
 circumstance that Millington, though of highly reputable 
 connections, was almost entirely without fortune, was no 
 objection in his eyes to the union that Sarah was so ob- 
 viously inclined to form. The two young men had been 
 left on the ground, therefore, to take care of the interests 
 of a client who Dunscomb was compelled to admit was one 
 that interested him more than any other in whose services 
 he had ever been employed, strongly as he was disposed 
 to fear that appearances might be deceitful. 
 
 Our young men were not idle. In addition to doing 
 all that was in their power to contribute to the personal 
 comforts of Miss Monson, they were active and intelli- 
 gent in obtaining and making notes of all the facts 
 that had been drawn out by the coroner's inquest, or 
 which could be gleaned in the neighborhood. These facts, 
 or rumors, John classed into the "proved," the "reported," 
 the "probable," and the "improbable;" accompanying 
 each division with such annotations as made a very useful 
 sort of brief for any one who wished to push the inquiries 
 further. 
 
 "There, Millington," he said when they reached the 
 jail, on their return from a walk as far as the ruins of the 
 house which had been burned, and after they had dined ; 
 
78 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 11 there, I think we have done tolerably well for one 
 day, and are in a fair way to give Uncle Tom a pretty 
 full account of this miserable business. Tire more I see 
 and learn of it, the more I am convinced of the perfect in- 
 nocence of the accused. I trust it strikes you in the same 
 way, Mike ?" 
 
 But Mike was by no means as sanguine as his friend. 
 He smiled faintly at this question, and endeavored to 
 evade a direct answer. He saw how lively were the 
 hopes of Tom, and how deeply his feelings were getting 
 to be interested in the matter ; while his own judgment, 
 influenced, perhaps, by Mr. Dunscomb's example, greatly 
 inclined him to the worst foreboding of the result. Still 
 he had an honest satisfaction in saying anything that 
 might contribute to the gratification of Sarah's brother, 
 and a good opportunity now offering, he did not let it es- 
 cape him. 
 
 "There is one thing, Jack, that seems to have been 
 strangely overlooked," he said, "and out of which some 
 advantage may come, if it be thoroughly sifted. You may 
 remember it was stated by some of the witnesses, that 
 there was a German woman in the family of the Good- 
 wins, the day that preceded the fire one employed in 
 housework ? " 
 
 "Now you mention it, I do! Sure enough; what has 
 become of that woman ? " 
 
 " While you were drawing your diagram of the ruins, 
 and projecting your plan of the out-buildings, garden, 
 fields, and so cm, I stepped across to the nearest house, and 
 had a chat with the ladies. You may remember I told you 
 it was to get a drink of milk ; but I saw petticoats, and 
 thought something might be learned from woman's pro- 
 pensity to talk." 
 
 " I know you left me, but I was too busy, just then, to 
 see on what errand, or whither you went." 
 
 " It was to the old stone farm-house that stands only fifty 
 rods from the ruins. The family in possession is named 
 Burton, and a more talkative set I never encountered in 
 petticoats." 
 
 "How many had you to deal with, Mike?" John in- 
 quired, running his eyes over his notes, as he asked the 
 question, in a way that showed how little he anticipated 
 from this interview with the Burtons. " If more than one 
 of the garrulous set, I pity you, for I had a specimen of 
 them yesterday morning myself, in a passing interview." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUA'. 79 
 
 " There were three talkers, and one silent body. As is 
 usual, I thought that the silent member of the house knew 
 more than the speakers, if she had been inclined to let 
 out her knowledge." 
 
 " Ay, that is a way we have of judging of one another ; 
 but it is as often false as true. As many persons are silent 
 because they have nothing to say, as because they are re- 
 flecting ; and of those who look very wise, about one half, 
 as near as I can judge, look so as a sort of apology for be- 
 ing very silly." 
 
 " I can't say how it was with Mrs. Burton, the silent 
 member of the family, in this case ; bv.!: I do know that her 
 three worthy sisters-in-law are to be classed among the 
 foolish virgins." 
 
 " Had they no oil to trim their lamps withal ? " 
 
 " It had all been used to render their tongues limber. 
 Never did three damsels pour out words in so full a rivu- 
 let, as I was honored with for the first five minutes. By 
 the end of that time, I was enabled to put a question or 
 two ; after which they were better satisfied to let me in- 
 terrogate, while they were content to answer." 
 
 " Did you learn anything, Mike, to reward you for all 
 this trouble ? " again glancing at his notes. 
 
 " I think I did. With a good deal of difficulty in elimi- 
 nating the surplusage, if I may coin a word for the occa- 
 sion, I got these facts : It would seem that the German 
 woman was a newly-arrived immigrant, who had strolled 
 into the country, and offered to work for her food, etc. 
 Mrs. Goodwin usually attended to all her own domestic 
 matters ; but she had an attack of rheumatism that pre- 
 disposed her to receive this offer, and that so much the 
 more willingly, because the ' help ' was not to be paid. It 
 appears that the deceased female was an odd mixture of 
 miserly propensities with a love of display. She hoarded 
 all she could lay her hands on, and took a somewhat un- 
 common pleasure in showing her hoards to her neighbors. 
 In consequence of this last weakness, the whole neighbor- 
 hood knew not only of her gold, for she turned every coin 
 into that metal before it was consigned to her stocking, 
 but of the amount to a dollar, and the place where she 
 kept it. In this all agreed, even to the silent matron." 
 
 "And what has become of this German woman ?" asked 
 John, closing his notes with sudden interest. " Why was 
 she not examined before the. inquest ? and where is she 
 now?" 
 
8o THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "No one knows. She has been missing ever since the 
 fire, and a few fancy that she may, after all, be the person 
 who has done the whole mischief. It does wear a strange 
 look, that no trace can be heard of her ! " 
 
 " This must be looked into closely, Mike. It is unac- 
 countably strange that more was not said of her before 
 the coroner. Yet, I fear one thing, too. Doctor McBrain 
 is a man of the highest attainments as an anatomist, and 
 you will remember that he inclines to the opinion that 
 both the skeletons belonged to females. Now, it may turn 
 out that this German woman's remains have been found ; 
 which will put her guilt out of the question." 
 
 " Surely, Jack, you would not be sorry to have it turn 
 out that any human being should be innocent of such 
 crimes ! " 
 
 " By no means ; though it really does seem to me more 
 probable that an unknown straggler should be the guilty 
 one in this case, than an educated young female, who has 
 every claim in the way of attainments to be termed a lady. 
 Besides, Michael, these German immigrants have brought 
 more than their share of crime among us. Look at the 
 reports of murders and robberies for the last ten years, 
 and you will find that an undue proportion of them have 
 been committed by this class of immigrants. To me, noth- 
 ing appears more probable than this affair's being traced 
 up to that very woman." 
 
 " I own you are right, in saying what you do of the 
 Germans. But it should be remembered, that some of 
 their states are said to have adopted the policy of sending 
 their rogues to America. If England were to attempt that 
 now, I fancy Jonathan would hardly stand it ! " 
 
 " He ought not to stand it for an hour, from any nation 
 on earth. If there ever was a good cause for war, this is 
 one. Yes, yes ; that German immigrant must be looked 
 up, and examined." 
 
 Michael Millington smiled faintly at John Wilmeter's 
 disposition to believe the worst of the High Dutch ; touch- 
 ing the frailties of whom, however, neither of the two had 
 exaggerated anything. Far more than their share of the 
 grave crimes of this country have, within the period named, 
 been certainly committed by immigrants from Germany ; 
 whether the cause be in the reason given, or in national 
 character. This is not according to ancient opinion, but 
 we believe it to be strictly according to fact. The Irish 
 are clannish, turbulent, and much disposed to knock each 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. Si 
 
 other on the head ;. but it is not to rob, or to pilfer, but to 
 quarrel. The Englishman will pick your pocket, or com- 
 mit burglary, when inclined to roguery, and frequently he 
 has a way of his own of extorting, in the way of vails. 
 The Frenchmen may well boast of their freedom from 
 wrongs done to persons or property in this country ; no 
 class of immigrants furnishing to the prisons, compara- 
 tively, fewer criminals. The natives, out of all proportion, 
 are freest from crime, if the blacks be excepted, and when 
 we compare the number of the convicted with the number 
 of the people. Still, such results ought not to be taken as 
 furnishing absolute rules by which to judge of large bodies 
 of men ; since unsettled lives on the one hand, and the 
 charities of life on the other, may cause disproportions 
 that would not otherwise exist. 
 
 " If one of these skeletons be that of the German woman, 
 and Doctor McBrain should prove to be right," said John 
 Wilmeter, earnestly, " what has become of the remains of 
 Mr. Goodwin ? There was a husband as well as a wife, in 
 that family." 
 
 "Very true," answered Millington ; "and I learned 
 something concerning him, too. It seems that the old fel- 
 low drank intensely, at times, when he and his wife made 
 the house too hot to hold them. All the Burtons agreed 
 in giving this account of the good couple. The failing 
 was not generally known, and had not yet gone so far as 
 to affect the old man's general character, though it would 
 seem to have been known to the immediate neighbors." 
 
 "And not one word of all this is to be found in any of 
 the reports in the papers from town ! Not a particle of 
 testimony on the point before the inquest ! Why, Mike, 
 this single fact may furnish a clew to the whole catastro- 
 phe." 
 
 " In what way ? " Millington very quietly inquired. 
 
 "Those bones are the bones of females ; old Goodwin 
 has robbed the house, set fire to it, murdered his wife and 
 the German woman in a drunken frolic, and run away. 
 Here is a history for Uncle Tom that will delight him ; 
 for if he do not feel quite certain of Mary Monson's inno- 
 cence now, he would be delighted to learn its truth ! ' 
 
 " You make much out of a very little, Jack ; and imagine 
 far more than you can prove. Why should old Goodwin 
 set fire to his own house for I understand the property 
 was his steal his own money " : for, though married 
 women did then hold a separate estate in a bed-quilt, or a 
 
82 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 gridiron, the law could not touch the previous accumula- 
 tions of 3.femme coverte " and murder a poor foreigner, who 
 could neither give nor take away anything that the build- 
 ing contained? Then he is to burn his own house, and 
 make himself a vagrant in his old age and that among 
 strangers ! I learn he was born in that very house, and 
 has passed his days in it. Such a man would not be very 
 likely to destroy it." 
 
 "Why not, to conceal a murder ? Crime must be con- 
 cealed, or it is punished." 
 
 " Sometimes," returned Michael, dryly. " This Mary 
 Monson will be hanged, out of all question, should the case 
 go against her, for she understands French, and Italian, 
 and German, you say ; either of which tongues would be 
 sufficient to hang her ; but had old Mrs. Goodwin mur- 
 dered her, philanthropy would have been up and stirring, 
 and no rope would be stretched." 
 
 " Millington, you have a way of talking at times that is 
 quite shocking ! I do wish you could correct it. What 
 use is there in bringing a young lady like Miss Monson 
 down to the level of a common criminal ? " 
 
 " She will be brought down as low as that, depend on it, 
 if guilty. There is no hope for one who bears about her 
 person, in air, manner, speech, and deportment, the un- 
 equivocal signs of a lady. Our sympathies are all kept for 
 those who are less set apart from the common herd. Sym- 
 pathy goes by majorities, as well as other matters." 
 
 "You think her, at all events, a lady?" said John, 
 quickly. "How, then, can you suppose it possible that 
 she has been guilty of the crimes of which she stands 
 accused ? " 
 
 " Simply, because my old-fashioned father has given me 
 old-fashioned notions of the meaning of terms. So thin- 
 skinned have people become lately, that even language 
 must be perverted to gratify their conceit. The terms 
 'gentleman ' and Mady' have as defined meanings as any 
 two words we possess signifying persons of cultivated 
 minds and of certain refinements in tastes and manners. 
 Morals have nothing to do with either, necessarily, as a 
 ' gentleman ' or ' lady' may be very wicked ; nay, often are. 
 It is true there are particular acts, partaking of mean- 
 nesses, rather than anything decidedly criminal, that, by 
 convention, a gentleman or lady may not commit ; but 
 there are a hundred others, that are far worse, which are 
 not prohibited. It is unlady-like to talk scandal ; but it is 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 83 
 
 not deemed always unlady-like to give grounds to scan- 
 dal. Here is a bishop who has lately been defining a 
 gentleman, and, as usually happens with such men, unless 
 they were originally on a level with their dioceses, he 
 describes a 'Christian' rather than a 'gentleman.' This 
 notion of making converts, by means of enlisting our 
 vanity and self-love in the cause, is but a weak one at the 
 best." 
 
 " Certainly, Mike ; I agree with you in the main. As 
 large classes of polished people do exist, who have loose 
 enough notions of morals, there ought to be terms to 
 designate them, as a class, as well as to give any other 
 name, when we have the thing. Use has applied those of 
 * gentlemen ' and ' ladies,' and I can see no sufficient reason 
 for changing them." 
 
 "It comes wholly from the longings of human vanity. 
 As a certain distinction is attached to the term, everybody 
 is covetous of obtaining it, and all sorts of reasoning is 
 resorted to, to drag them into the categories. It would be 
 the same, if it were a ground of distinction, to have but 
 one ear. But this distinction will be very likely to make 
 things go hard with our client, Jack, if the jury say 
 'guilty.' " 
 
 " The jury never can never will render such a verdict ! 
 I do not think the grand jury will even return a bill. Why 
 should they ? The testimony wouldn't convict an old state- 
 prison bird." 
 
 Michael Millington smiled, a little sadly, perhaps for 
 John Wilmeter was Sarah's only brother but he made no 
 reply, perceiving that an old negro, named Sip, or Scipio, 
 who lived about the jail by a sort of sufferance, and who 
 had now been a voluntary adherent of a place that was 
 usually so unpleasant to men of his class for many years, 
 was approaching, as if he were the bearer of a message. 
 Sip was an old-school black, gray-headed, and had seen 
 more than his three-score years and ten. No wonder, 
 then, that his dialect partook, in a considerable degree, of 
 the peculiarities that were once so marked in a Manhattan 
 " nigger." Unlike his brethren of the present day, he was 
 courtesy itself to all "gentlemen," while his respect for 
 " common folks " was a good deal more equivocal. But 
 chiefly did the old man despise " yaller fellers ; " these he 
 regarded as a mongrel race, who could neither aspire to 
 the pure complexion of the Circassian stock, nor lay claim 
 to the glistening dye of Africa, 
 
84 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Mrs. Gott, she want to see masser," said Scipio, bowing 
 to John, grinning for a negro seldom loses his teeth 
 and turning civilly to Millington, with a respectful inclU 
 nation of a head that was as white as snow. " Yes, sah ; 
 she want to see masser, soon as conbe'nent, and soon as he 
 can come." 
 
 Now Mrs. Gott was the wife of the sheriff, and, alas ! 
 for the dignity of the office ! the sheriff was the keeper of 
 the county jail. This is one of the fruits born on the 
 wide-spreading branches of the tree of democracy. For- 
 merly a New York sheriff bore a strong resemblance to his 
 English namesake. He was one of the county gentry, and 
 executed the duties of his office with an air and a manner ; 
 appeared in court with a sword, and carried with his name 
 a weight and an authority that now are nearly wanting. 
 Such men would scarcely become jailers. But that uni- 
 versal root of all evil, the love of money, made the dis- 
 covery that there was profit to be had in feeding the 
 prisoners, and a lower class of men aspired to the offices, 
 and obtained them ; since which time, more than half of 
 the sheriffs of New York have been their own jailers. 
 
 " Do you knoww/y Mrs. Gott wishes to see me, Scipio ?" 
 demanded Wilmeter. 
 
 c< I b'lieve, sah, dat 'e young woman as murders old Mas- 
 ser Goodwin and he wife, asked her to send for masser." 
 
 This was plain enough, and it caused Jack a severe 
 pang ; for it showed how conclusively and unsparingly the 
 popular mind had made up its opinion touching Mary 
 Monson's guilt. There was no time to be lost, however ; 
 and the young man hastened toward the building to which 
 the jail was attached, both standing quite near the court- 
 house. In the door of what was her dwelling, for the time 
 being, stood Mrs. Gott, the wife of the high sheriff of the 
 county, and the only person in all Biberry who, as it ap- 
 peared to John, entertained his own opinions of the in- 
 nocence of the accused. But Mrs. Gott was, by nature, a 
 kind-hearted woman ; and, though so flagrantly out of 
 place in her united characters, was just such a person as 
 ought to have the charge of the female department of a 
 prison. Owing to the constant changes of the democratic 
 principle of rotation in office, one of the most impudent of 
 all the devices of a covetous envy, this woman had not 
 many months before come out of the bosom of society, and 
 had not seen enough of the ways of her brief and novel 
 situation to have lost any of those qualities of her sex, 
 
THE WAYS OF TffE HOUR. 85 
 
 such as extreme kindness, gentleness of disposition, and 
 feminine feeling, that are anything but uncommon among 
 the women of America. In many particulars, she would 
 have answered the imaginative bishop's description of a 
 "lady ;" but she would have been sadly deficient in some 
 of the requisites that the opinions of the world have at- 
 tached to the character. In these last particulars, Mary 
 Monson, as compared with this worthy matron, was like a 
 being of another race ; though, as respects the first, we 
 shall refer the reader to the events to be hereafter related, 
 that he may decide the question according to his own 
 judgment. 
 
 " Mary Monson has sent for you, Mr. Wilmeter," the 
 good Mrs. Gott commenced, in a low, confidential sort of 
 tone, as if she imagined that she and John were the especial 
 guardians of this unknown and seemingly ill-fated young 
 woman's fortunes. " She is wonderfully resigned and pa- 
 tient a great deal more patient than I should be, if I was 
 obliged to live in this jail that is, on the other side of the 
 strong doors ; but she told me, an hour ago, that she is not 
 sure, after all, her imprisonment is not the very best thing 
 that could happen to her ! " 
 
 " That was a strange remark !" returned John. " Did she 
 make it under a show of feeling, as if penitence, or any 
 other strong emotion, induced her to utter it ?" 
 
 "With as sweet a smile, as composed a manner, and as 
 gentle and soft a voice as a body ever sees, or listens to ! 
 What a wonderfully soft and musical voice she has, Mr. 
 Wilmeter ! " 
 
 " She has, indeed. I was greatly struck with it, the mo- 
 ment I heard her speak. How much like a lady, Mrs. Gott, 
 she uses it and how correct and well-pronounced are her 
 words ! " 
 
 Although Mrs. Gott and John Wilmeter had very differ- 
 ent ideas, at the bottom, of the requisites to form a lady, 
 and the pronunciation of the good woman was by no means 
 faultless, she cordially assented to the truth of the young 
 man's eulogy. Indeed, Mary Monson, for the hour, was 
 her great theme ; and, though still a young woman herself, 
 and good-looking withal, she really seemed never to tire of 
 uttering her praises. 
 
 " She has been educated, Mr. Wilmeter, far above any 
 female hereabouts, unless it may be some of the s and 
 
 s," the good woman continued. "Those families, you 
 know, are our upper crust not upper ten thousand, as the 
 
86 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 newspapers call it, but upper hundred, and their ladies 
 may know as much as Mary ; but, beyond them, no female 
 hereabouts can hold a candle to her ! Her books have 
 been brought in, and I looked them over there isn't more 
 than one in three that I can read at all. What is more, 
 they don't seem to be all in one tongue, the foreign books, 
 but in three or four." 
 
 " She certainly has a knowledge of several of the living 
 languages, and an accurate knowledge, too. I know a lit- 
 tle of such things myself, but my friend Millington is quite 
 strong in both the living and dead languages, and he says 
 that what she knows she knows well." 
 
 " That is comforting for a young lady that can speak 
 so many different tongues would hardly think of robbing 
 and murdering two old people in their beds. Well, sir. 
 perhaps you had better go to the door and see her, though 
 I could stay here and talk about her all day. Pray, Mr. 
 Wilmeter, which of the languages is really dead ?" 
 
 John smiled, but civilly enlightened the sheriff's lady on 
 this point, and then, preceded by her, he went to the im- 
 portant door which separated the dwelling of the family 
 from the rooms of the jail. Once opened, an imperfect 
 communication is obtained with the interior of the last, by 
 means of a grating in an inner door. The jail of Dukes 
 County is a recent construction, and is built on a plan that 
 is coming much into favor, though still wanting in the 
 highest proof of civilization, by sufficiently separating 
 criminals, and in treating the accused with a proper de- 
 gree of consideration, until the verdict of a jury has pro- 
 nounced them guilty. 
 
 The construction of this jail was very simple. A strong, 
 low, oblong building had been erected on a foundation so 
 filled in with stones as to render digging nearly impossible. 
 The floors were of large, massive stones, that ran across 
 the whole building, a distance of some thirty feet, or if 
 there were joints, they were under the partition walls, ren- 
 dering them as secure as if solid. The cells were not large, 
 certainly, but of sufficient size to admit of light and air. 
 The ceilings were of the same enormous flat stones as the 
 floors, well secured by a load of stones, and beams to brace 
 them, and the partitions were of solid masonry. There 
 the prisoner is incased in stone, and nothing can be more 
 hopeless than an attempt to get out of one of these cells, 
 provided the jailer gives even ordinary attention to their 
 condition. Above and around them are erected the outer 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 87 
 
 walls of the jail. The last comprise an ordinary stone 
 house, with roof, windows, and the other customary appli- 
 ances of a human abode. As these walls stand several 
 ioc^ wl'^out those of the real prison, and are somewhat 
 higher, U> latter are an imperium in imperio ; a house with- 
 in a house. ..'" ^ space between the walls of the two build- 
 ings forms a galle*/ extending around all the cells. Iron 
 grated gates divide ti- * several parts of this gallery into so 
 many compartments, ai 1 in the jail of Biberry care has 
 been had so to arrange th se subdivisions that those within 
 any one compartment may '^e concealed from those in all 
 of the others but the two th t immediately join it. The 
 breezes are admitted .by mea\. ' of the external windows, 
 while the height of the ceiling in the galleries, and the 
 space above the tops of the ce^s, contribute largely to 
 comfort and health in this important particular. As the 
 doors of the cells stand opposite to the windows, the entire 
 jail can be, and usually is, made airy and light. Stoves in 
 the galleries preserve the temperature, and effectually re- 
 move all disagreeable moisture. In a word, the place is 
 as neat, convenient, and decent as the jail of convicts need 
 ever to be ; but the proper sort of distinction is not attend- 
 ed to between them and those who are merely accused. 
 Our civilization in this respect is defective. While the 
 land is filled with senseless cries against an aristocracy 
 which, if it exist at all, exists in the singular predicament 
 of being far less favored than the democracy, involving a 
 contradiction in terms ; against a feudality that consists in 
 men's having bargained to pay their debts in chickens, no 
 one complaining in behalf of those who have entered into 
 contracts to do the same in wheat ; and against rent, while 
 usury is not only smiled on, but encouraged, and efforts are 
 made to legalize extortion the public mind is quiet on the 
 subject of the treatment of those who the policy of govern- 
 ment demands should be kept in security until their guilt 
 or innocence be established. What reparation, under such 
 circumstances, can be made to him to whom the gates are 
 finally opened, for having been incarcerated on charges 
 that are groundless ? The jails of the Christian world 
 were first constructed by an irresponsible power, and to 
 confine the weak. We imitate the vices of the system with 
 a cold indifference, and shout "feudality" over a bantam, 
 or a pound of butter, that are paid under contracted cove 
 nants for rent ! 
 
88 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Sir, this is the house; please it you that I call? 
 
 7'aming of the Shrew. 
 
 THE grated window which John Wilmeter now ap- 
 proached, commanded nearly an entire view of the gallery 
 that communicated with the cell of Mary Monson. It also 
 commanded a partial view of the cell itself. As he looked 
 through the grates, he saw how neat and comfortable the 
 last had been made by means of Mrs. Gott's care, aided, 
 doubtless, by some of the prisoner's money that gold 
 which was, in fact, the strongest and only very material 
 circumstance against her. Mrs. Gott had put a carpet in 
 the cell, and divers pieces of furniture that were useful, as 
 well as two or three that were intended to be ornamental, 
 rendering the otherwise gloomy little apartment tolerably 
 cheerful. The gallery, much to John's surprise, had been 
 furnished also. Pieces of new carpeting were laid on the 
 flags, chairs and table had been provided, and among other 
 articles of this nature was a very respectable looking-glass. 
 Everything appeared new, and as if just sent from the dif- 
 ferent shops where the various articles were sold. Wil- 
 meter fancied that not less than a hundred dollars had 
 been expended in furnishing that gallery. The effect was 
 surprising ; taking away from the place the chilling, jail- 
 like air, and giving to it what it had never possessed 
 before, one of household comfort. 
 
 Mary Monson was walking to and fro, in this gallery, 
 with slow, thoughtful steps, her head a little bowed, and 
 her hands hanging before her, with the fingers interlocked. 
 So completely was she lost in thought, that John's foot- 
 step, or presence at the grate, was not observed, and he 
 had an opportunity to watch her for near a minute, unseen 
 himself. The occupation was not exactly excusable ; but, 
 under all the circumstances, young Wilmeter felt as if it 
 might be permitted. It was his duty to ascertain all he 
 fairly might, concerning his client. 
 
 It has already been said that this strange girl, extraordi- 
 nary by her situation as a person accused of crimes so 
 heinous, and perhaps still more so by her manner of bear- 
 ing up against the terrors and mortifications of her condi- 
 tion, as well as by the mystery which so completely veiled 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 89 
 
 her past life, was not a beauty, in the common acceptation 
 of the term. Nevertheless, not one female in ten thousand 
 \vvjn^ -ooner ensnare the heart of a youth, by means of 
 her perso.- -1 attractions alone. It was not regularity of 
 features, nor -illiancy of complexion, nor lustre of the 
 eyes, nor any of tn.. more ordinary charms, that gave her 
 this power ; but an indescribable union of feminine traits, 
 in which intellectual gu s, spirit, tenderness, and modesty, 
 were so singularly blena d as to leave it questionable 
 which had the advantage. /Tereyes were of a very gentle 
 and mild expression, when in ' state of rest ; excited, they 
 were capable of opening windo r s to the inmost soul. Her 
 form was faultless ; being the tru ' medium between vigor- 
 ous health and womanly delicacy , which, in this country, 
 implies much less of the robust and solid than one meets 
 with in the other hemisphere. 
 
 It is not easy to tell how we acquired those in-and-in 
 habits, which get to be a sort of second nature, and almost 
 bestow on us new instincts. It is by these secret sympa- 
 thies, these tastes that pervade the moral, as the nerves 
 form a natural telegraph through the physical, system, that 
 one feels rather than sees, when he is in the company of 
 persons in his own class in life. Dress will not afford an 
 infallible test on such an occasion, though the daw is in- 
 stantly seen not to be the peacock ; neither will address, 
 for the distinctive qualities lie much deeper than the sur- 
 face. But so it is ; a gentleman can hardly be brought 
 into the company of man or woman, without his at once 
 perceiving whether he or she belongs to his own social 
 caste or not. What is more, if a man of the world, he de- 
 tects almost instinctively the degrees of caste, as well as the 
 greater subdivisions, and knows whether his strange com- 
 panions have seen much, or little ; whether their gentility 
 is merely the result of the great accident, with its custom- 
 ary advantages, or has been smoothed over by a liberal 
 intercourse w r ith the better classes of a general society. 
 Most of all, may a travelled person be known and that 
 more especially in a provincial country like our own from 
 one that has not travelled ; though the company kept in 
 other lands necessarily draws an obvious distinction be- 
 tween the last. Now John Wil meter, always mingling 
 with the best society of his own country, had also been 
 abroad, and had obtained that "second-sight" which so 
 insensibly, but certainly, increases the vision of all Ameri- 
 cans who enjoy the advantage of acquiring it. What is 
 
90 THE WA VS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 more, though his years and the plans of his uncle for his 
 future welfare had prevented his staying in Europe long 
 enough to receive all the benefit such a tour can bestow, 
 he had remained long enough to pass beyond the study of 
 merely physical things ; and had made certain acquisitions 
 in other matters, more essential to taste if not to charac- 
 ter. When an American returns from an excursion into 
 the Old World, with " I come back better satisfied than 
 ever with my own country," it is an infallible sign that he 
 did not stay long enough abroad ; and when he returns 
 only to find fault, it is equally proof that he has stayed too 
 long. There is a happy medium which teaches something 
 near the truth, and that would tell us that there are a thou- 
 sand things to be amended and improved at home, while 
 there are almost as many enjoyed, that the oldest and most 
 polished people on earth might envy. John Wilmeter had 
 not reached the point that enabled him to make the nicest 
 distinctions, but he was sufficiently advanced to have de- 
 tected what he conceived to be signs that this singular 
 young creature, unknown, unsupported by any who ap- 
 peared to take an interest in her, besides himself and the 
 accidental acquaintances formed under the most painful 
 circumstances, had been abroad ; perhaps had been edu- 
 cated there. The 'regulated tones of one of the sweetest 
 voices he had ever heard, the distinctness and precision of 
 her utterance, as far as possible removed from mouthing 
 and stiffness, but markedly quiet and even, with a total 
 absence of all the affectations of boarding-school grammar, 
 were so many proofs of even a European education, as he 
 fancied ; and before that week was terminated, John had 
 fully made up his mind that Mary Monson though an 
 American by birth, about which there could be no dispute 
 had been well taught in some of the schools of the Old 
 World. 
 
 This was a conclusion not reached immediately. He 
 had to be favored with several interviews, and to worm 
 himself gradually into the confidence of his uncle's client, 
 ere he could be permitted to see enough of the subject of 
 his studies to form an opinion so abstruse and ingenious. 
 
 When Mary Monson caught a glimpse of John Wil- 
 meter's head at her grate where he stood respectfully 
 uncovered, as in a lady's presence a slight flush passed 
 over her face ; but expecting him, as she did, she could 
 not well be surprised. 
 
 " This bears some resemblance, Mr. Wilmeter, to an in- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 9 i 
 
 terview in a convent," she then said, with a slight smile, 
 but with perfect composure of manner. " I am the novice 
 and novice am I, indeed, to scenes like this you, the ex- 
 cluded friend, who is compelled to pay his visit through a 
 grate ! I must apologize for all the trouble I am giving you." 
 
 "Do not name it I cannot be better employed than in 
 your behalf. I am rejoiced that you sustain yourself so 
 well against what must be a most unheard-of calamity for 
 one like yourself, and cannot but admire the admirable 
 equanimity with which you bear your cruel fortune." 
 
 "Equanimity.!" repeated Mary with emphasis, and a 
 slight display of intense feeling powerfully controlled ; " if 
 it be so, Mr. Wilmeter, it must be from the sense of se- 
 curity that I feel. Yes ; for the first time in months, I do 
 feel myself safe secure." 
 
 " Safe ! Secure ! What, in a jail ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; jails are intended for places of security, are 
 they not?" answered Mary, smiling, but faintly and with 
 a gleam of sadness on her face. ** This may appear won- 
 derful to you, but I do tell no more than sober truth, in 
 repeating that, for the first time in months, I have now 
 a sense of security. I am what you call in the hands of 
 the law, and one there must be safe from everything but 
 what the law can do to her. Of that I have no serious 
 apprehensions, and I feel happy." 
 
 "Happy!" 
 
 " Yes ; by comparison, happy. I tell you this the more 
 willingly, for I plainly see you feel a generous interest in 
 my welfare an interest which exceeds that of the counsel 
 in his client- " 
 
 "A thousand times exceeds it, Miss Monson ! Nay is 
 not to be named with it ! " 
 
 " I thank you, Mr. Wilmeter from my heart I thank 
 you," returned the prisoner, a slight flush passing over 
 her features, while her eyes were cast toward the floor. 
 " I believe your are one of strong feelings and quick im- 
 pulses, and am grateful that these have been in my favor, 
 under circumstances that might well have excused you for 
 thinking the worst. From the hints of this kind woman, 
 Mrs. Gott, I am afraid that the opinion of Biberry is less 
 consoling ? " 
 
 " You must know how it is in country villages, Miss 
 Monson every one has something to say, and every one 
 brings all things down to the level of his own knowledge 
 and understanding." 
 
9 2 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 Mary Monson smiled again ; this time more naturally, 
 and without any painful expression to lessen the bright 
 influence that lighting up of her features gave to a counte- 
 nance so remarkable for its appearance of illumination 
 from within. 
 
 " Is not such the case in towns, as well as in villages, 
 Mr. Wilmeter?" she asked. 
 
 " Perhaps it is but I mean that the circle of knowledge 
 is more confined in a place like this, than in a large town, 
 and that the people here could not well go beyond it." 
 
 " Biberry is so near New York, that I should think, tak- 
 ing class against class, no great difference can be found in 
 their inhabitants. That which the good folk of Biberry 
 think of my case, I am afraid will be thought of it by those 
 of your own town." 
 
 "My own town? and are you not really from New 
 York, Miss Monson." 
 
 " In no manner," answered Mary, once more smiling ; 
 this time, however, because she understood how modestly 
 and readily her companion was opening a door by which 
 she might let a secret she had declined to reveal to his 
 uncle, escape. " I am not what you call a Manhattanese, in 
 either descent, birth, or residence ; in no sense, whatever." 
 
 " But, surely, you have never been educated in the coun- 
 try ? You must belong to some large town your manners 
 show that I mean that you " 
 
 " Do not belong to Biberry. In that you are quite 
 right, sir, I had never seen Biberry three months since ; 
 but, as for New York, I have not passed a month there, 
 in my whole life. The longest visit I ever paid you was 
 one of ten days, when I landed, coming from Havre, about 
 eighteen months since." 
 
 " From Havre ! Surely, you are an American, Miss 
 Monson our own countrywoman ?" 
 
 "Your own countrywoman, Mr. Wilmeter, by birth, 
 descent, and feelings. But an American female may visit 
 Europe." 
 
 " Certainly ; and be educated there, as I had already 
 suspected was your case." 
 
 "In part it was, and in part it was not." Here Mary 
 paused, looked a little arch, seemed to hesitate, and to 
 have some doubts whether she ought to proceed, or not ; 
 but finally added "You have been abroad yourself?" 
 
 " I have. I was nearly three years in Europe ; and have 
 not been home yet quite a twelvemonth." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 93 
 
 "You 1 went into the East, I believe, after passing a few 
 months in the Pyrenees ? " continued the prisoner, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " You are quite right ; we travelled as far as Jerusalem. 
 The journey has got to be so common that it is no longer 
 dangerous. Even ladies make it now without any appre- 
 hension." 
 
 " I am aware of that, having made it myself *' 
 
 "You, Miss Monson ! You have been at Jerusalem ! " 
 
 "Why not, Mr. Wilmeter? You say yourself, that fe- 
 males constantly make the journey ; why not I as well as 
 another ? " 
 
 " I scarce know, myself ; but it is so strange all about 
 you is so very extraordinary 
 
 "You think it extraordinary that one of my sex, who 
 has been partly educated in Europe, and who has travelled 
 in the Holy Land, should be shut up in this jail in Biberry 
 is it not so ? " 
 
 " That is one view of the matter, I will confess ; but it 
 was scarcely less strange that such a person should be 
 dwelling in a garret-room of a cottage like that of these 
 unfortunate Goodwins." 
 
 " That touches on my secret, sir ; and no more need be 
 said. You may judge how important I consider that se- 
 cret, when I know its preservation subjects me to the most 
 cruel distrust ; and that, too, in the minds of those with 
 whom I would so gladly stand fair. , Your excellent uncle, 
 for instance, and yourself." 
 
 " I should be much flattered could I think the last I, 
 who have scarcely the claim of an acquaintance." 
 
 "You forget the situation in which your respectable and 
 most worthy uncle has left you here, Mr. Wilmeter ; which, 
 of itself, gives you higher claims to my thanks and confi- 
 dence than any that mere acquaintance could bestow. Be- 
 sides, we are not " another arch, but scarcely perceptible, 
 smile again illuminated that remarkable countenance 
 "the absolute strangers to each other that you seem to 
 think us." 
 
 " Not strangers ? You amaze me ! If I have ever had 
 the honor 
 
 " Honor ! " interrupted Mary, a little bitterly. " It is 
 truly a great honor to know one in my situation ! " 
 
 " I esteem it an honor ; and no one has a right to call in 
 question my sincerity. If we have ever'met before, I will 
 frankly own that I am ignorant of both the time and place." 
 
94 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " This does not surprise me in the least. The time is 
 long, for persons as young as ourselves, and the place was 
 far away. Ah ! those were happy days for me, and most 
 gladly would I return to them ! But we have talked 
 enough on this subject. I have declined telling my tale 
 to your most excellent and very respectable uncle; you 
 will, therefore, the more easily excuse me if I decline tell- 
 ing it to you." 
 
 " Who am not ' most excellent and very respectable,' to 
 recommend me." 
 
 "Who are too near my own age to make you a proper 
 confidant, were there no other objection. The character that 
 I learned of you, when we met before, Mr. Wilmeter, was, 
 however, one of which you have no reason to be ashamed." 
 
 This was said gently, but earnestly ; was accompanied 
 by a most wanning smile, and was instantly succeeded by 
 a slight blush. John Wilmeter rubbed his forehead, sooth 
 to say, in a somewhat stupid manner, as if expecting to 
 brighten his powers of recollection by friction. A sudden 
 change was given to the conversation, however, by the fair 
 prisoner herself, who quietly resumed : 
 
 "We will defer this part of the subject to another time. 
 I did not presume to send for you, Mr. Wilmeter, without 
 an object, having your uncle's authority for giving you all 
 this trouble " 
 
 " And my own earnest request to be permitted to serve 
 you in any way I could." 
 
 " I have not forgotten that offer, nor shall I ever. The 
 man who is willing to serve a woman whom all around her 
 frown on, has a fair claim to be remembered. Good Mrs. 
 Gott and yourself are the only two friends I have in Bi- 
 berry. Even your companion, Mr. Millington, is a little 
 disposed to judge me harshly." 
 
 John started ; the movement was so natural that his 
 honest countenance would have betrayed him had he been 
 disposed to deny the imputation. 
 
 "That Millington has fallen into the popular notion 
 about here, I must allow, Miss Monson ; but he is an ex- 
 cellent fellow at the bottom, and will hear reason. Preju- 
 dices that are beyond reason are detestable, and I generally 
 avoid those whose characters manifest this weakness ; but 
 Mike will always listen to what he calls ' law and facts,' 
 and so we get along very well together." 
 
 " It ?.s fortunate ; since you are about to be so nearly 
 connected " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 95 
 
 "Connected ! Is it possible that you know tMn circum- 
 stance ? " 
 
 "You will find in the end, Mr. Wilmeter," returned the 
 prisoner, smiling this time naturally, as one manifests 
 satisfaction without pain of any sort " that I know more 
 of your private affairs than you had supposed. But let me 
 come to business, if you please, sir. I have greaf occasion 
 here for a maid-servant. Do you not think that Miss Wil- 
 ineter might send me one from town ?" 
 
 "A servant ! I know the very woman that will suit you. 
 A perfect jewel, in her way ! " 
 
 "That is a very housekeeper sort of a character," re- 
 joined Mary, absolutely laughing, in spite of her prison 
 walls and all the terrible charges that had brought her 
 within them ; "just such a character as I might have ex- 
 pected from Doctor McBrain's intended, Mrs. Updyke 
 
 " And you know it, too ! Why will you not tell us more, 
 since you tell us so much ?" 
 
 "In good time, I suppose all will come out. \V ell, I en- 
 deavor to submit to my fate, or to the will o! God ! " 
 There was no longer anything merry, in voice, face, or 
 manner, but a simple, natural pathos was singular y mixed 
 in the tones with which those few words were uttered. 
 Then rousing herself, she gravely resumed tht subject 
 which had induced her to send for John. 
 
 "You will pardon me if I say that I would prefer a 
 woman chosen and recommended by your sister, l^r, Wil- 
 meter, than one chosen and recommended by yoVrself," 
 said Mary. "When I shall have occasion for a fooi^an, I 
 will take your advice. It is very important that I should 
 engage a respectable, discreet woman ; and I will venture 
 to write a line, myself, to Miss Wilmeter, if you will be so 
 kind as to send it. I know this is not the duty of a coun- 
 sel ; but you see my situation. Mrs. Gott has offered to 
 procure a girl for me, it is true ; but the prejudice is so 
 strong against me in Biberry, that I doubt if the proper 
 sort of person could be obtained. At any rate, I should 
 be receiving a spy into my little household, instead of a 
 domestic in whom I could place confidence/' 
 
 " Sarah would join me in recommending Marie, who 
 has been with herself more than two years, and only left 
 her to take care of her father in his last illness. Another, 
 equally excellent, has been taken in her place ; and now, 
 that she wishes to return to my sister's service, there is no 
 opening for her. Mike Millington is dying to return to 
 
gb THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 town, and will gladly go over this evening. By breakfast 
 time to-morrow the woman might be here, if 
 
 " She will consent to serve a mistress in my cruel situa- 
 tion. I feel the full weight of the objection, and know 
 how difficult it will be to get a female, who values her 
 character as a servant, to enter on such an engagement. 
 You called this woman Marie ; by that I take it she is a 
 foreigner ? " 
 
 " A Swiss her parents emigrated ; but I knew her in 
 the service of an American family abroad and got her for 
 Sarah. She is the best creature in the world if she can 
 be persuaded to come." 
 
 " Had she been an American I should have despaired 
 of succeeding unless her feelings could have been touched ; 
 but, as she is a foreigner, perhaps money will procure her 
 service. Should Miss Wilmeter approve of your selection, 
 sir, I will entreat her to go as high as fifty dollars a month, 
 rather than not get the sort of person I want. You can 
 imagine how much importance I attach to success. To 
 escape remarks and gossiping, the person engaged can 
 join me as a companion, or friend, and not as a servant." 
 
 " I will get Mike off in half an hour, and Sarah will at 
 least make an effort. Yes, Marie Moulin, or Mary Mill, 
 as the girls call her, is just the thing ! " 
 
 " Marie Moulin ! Is that the name of the woman ? She 
 who was in the service of the Barringers, at Paris ? Do 
 you mean that person five and thirty, slightly pock- 
 marked, with light-blue eyes, and yellowish hair more 
 like a German than her French name would give reason 
 to expect ?" 
 
 ''The very same; and you knew her, too! Why not 
 bring all your friends around you at once, Miss Monson, 
 and not remain here an hour longer than is necessary." 
 
 Mary was too intent on the subject of engaging the 
 woman in question, to answer this last appeal. Earnestly 
 did she resume her instructions, therefore, and with an 
 eagerness of manner young Wilmeter had never before 
 observed in her. 
 
 " If Marie Moulin be the person meant," she said, " I 
 will spare no pains to obtain her services. Her attentions 
 to Mrs. Barringer, in her last illness, were admirable ; and 
 we all loved her, I may say. Beg your sister to tell her, 
 Mr. Wilmeter, that an old acquaintance, in distress, im- 
 plores her assistance. That will bring Marie, sooner than 
 money, Swiss though she be." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 97 
 
 " If you would write her a line, inclosing your real 
 name, for we are persuaded it is not Monson, it might 
 have more effect than all our solicitations, in behalf of 
 one that is unknown." 
 
 The prisoner turned slowly from the grate and walked 
 up and down her gallery for a minute or two, as if pon- 
 dering on this proposal. Once she smiled, and it almost 
 gave a lustre to her remarkable countenance ; then a cloud 
 passed over her face, and once more she appeared sad. 
 
 "No," she said, stopping near the grate again, in one of 
 her turns. " I will not do it it will be risking too much. 
 I can do nothing, just now, that will tell more of me than 
 your sister can state." 
 
 " Should Marie Moulin know you, she must recognize 
 you when you meet." 
 
 " It will be wiser to proceed a little in the dark. I con- 
 fide all to your powers of negotiation, and shall remain 
 as tranquil as possible until to-morrow morning. There 
 is still another little affair that I must trouble you with, 
 Mr. Wilmeter. My gold is sequestered, as you know, and 
 I am reduced to an insufficient amount of twos and threes. 
 Might I ask the favor of you to obtain smaller notes for 
 this, without mentioning in whose behalf it is done ? " 
 
 While speaking Mary handed through the grate a hun- 
 dred dollar note of one of the New York banks, with a 
 manner so natural and unpretending, as at once to con- 
 vince John Wilmeter, ever so willing to be persuaded into 
 anything in her favor, that she was accustomed to the use 
 of money in considerable sums ; or, what might be consid- 
 ered so, for the wants and habits of a female. Luckily, 
 he had nearly money enough in his wallet to change the 
 note, making up a small balance that was needed, by 
 drawing five half-eagles from his purse. The prisoner held 
 the last, in the open palm of one of the most beautiful 
 little hands the eyes of man ever rested on. 
 
 " This metal has been my bane, in more ways than one, 
 Mr. Wilmeter," she said, looking mournfully at the coin. 
 "Of one of its evil influences on my fate, I may not speak 
 now, if ever ; but you will understand me when I say, 
 that I fear that gold piece of Italian money is the princi- 
 pal cause of my being where I am." 
 
 " No doubt it has been considered one of the most ma- 
 terial of the facts against you, Miss Monson, though it is 
 by no means conclusive, as evidence, even with the most 
 bitter and prejudiced.'' 
 
 7 
 
98 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " I hope not. Now, Mr. Wilmeter, I will detain you no 
 longer, but beg you to do my commission with your sister, 
 as you would do it for her with me. I would write, but 
 my hand is so peculiar it were better that I did not." 
 
 Mary Monson now dismissed the young man, with the 
 manner of one very familiar with the tone of good society 
 a term that it is much the fashion to ridicule just now, 
 but which conveys a meaning that it were better the scof- 
 fers understood. This she did, however, after again apol- 
 ogizing for the trouble she was giving, and thanking him 
 earnestly for the interest he took in her affairs. We be- 
 lieve in animal magnetism ; and cannot pretend to say 
 what is the secret cause of the powerful sympathy that is 
 so often suddenly awakened between persons of different 
 sexes, and, in some instances, between those who are of 
 the same sex ; but Mary Monson, by that species of in- 
 stinct that teaches the female where she has awakened an 
 interest livelier than common, and possibly where she has 
 not, was certainly already aware that John Wilmeter did 
 not regard her with the same cool indifference he would 
 have felt toward an ordinary client of his uncle's. In 
 thanking him, therefore, her own manner manifested a 
 little of the reflected feeling that such a state of things is 
 pretty certain to produce. She colored, and slightly hesi- 
 tated once, as if she paused to choose her terms with more 
 than usual care ; but, in the main, acquitted herself well. 
 The parting betrayed interest, perhaps feeling, on both 
 sides, but nothing very manifest escaped either of our 
 young people. 
 
 Never had John Wilmeter been at a greater loss to inter- 
 pret facts, than he was on quitting the grate. The prisoner 
 was truly the most incomprehensible being he had ever 
 met with. Notwithstanding the fearful nature of the 
 charges against her charges that might well have given 
 great uneasiness to the firmest man she actually seemed 
 in love with her prison. It is true, that worthy Mrs. Gott 
 had taken from the place many of its ordinary, repulsive 
 features ; but it was still a jail, and the sun could be seen 
 only through grates, and massive walls separated her that 
 was within, from the world without. As the young man 
 was predisposed to regard everything connected with this 
 extraordinary young woman, couleur de rose, however, he 
 saw nothing but the surest signs of innocence in several 
 circumstances that might have increased the distrust of 
 his cooler-headed uncle ; but most persons would have re- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 99 
 
 garded the gentle tranquillity, that now seemed to soothe 
 a spirit that had evidently been much troubled of late, as 
 a sign that her hand could never have committed the atroc- 
 ities with which she was charged. 
 
 " Is she not a sweet young thing, Mr. Wilmeter?" ex- 
 claimed kind Mrs. Gott, while locking the doors after 
 John, on his retiring from the grate. " I consider it an 
 honor to Biberry jail to have such a prisoner within its 
 walls ! " 
 
 " I believe that you and I stand alone in our favorable 
 opinion of Miss Monson," John answered ; "so far, at least, 
 as Biberry is concerned. The excitement against her seems 
 to be at the highest pitch ; and I much doubt whether a 
 fair trial can be had in the county." 
 
 "The newspapers won't mend the matter sir. The 
 papers from town this morning are full of the affair, and 
 they all appear to lean the same way. But it's a long road 
 that has no turning, Mr. Wilmeter." 
 
 " Very true, and nothing wheels about with a quicker 
 step than the sort of public opinion that is got up under 
 a cry, and runs itself out of breath at the start. I expect 
 to see Mary Monson the most approved and most extolled 
 woman in this county, yet !" 
 
 Mrs. Gott hoped with all her heart that it might be so, 
 though she had, certainly, misgivings that the young man 
 did not feel. Half an hour after John Wilmeter had left 
 the jail, his friend Michael Millington was on the road to 
 town, carrying a letter to Sarah, with a most earnest re- 
 quest that she would use all her influence with Marie 
 Moulin to engage in the unusual service asked of her, for 
 a few weeks, if for no longer a period. This letter reached 
 its destination in due time, and greatly did the sister mar- 
 vel over its warmth, as well as over the nature of the re- 
 quest. 
 
 " I never knew John to write so earnestly !" exclaimed 
 Sarah, when she and Michael had talked over the matter 
 a few moments. " Were he actually in love, I could not 
 expect him to be more pressing." 
 
 " I will not swear that he is not," returned the friend, 
 laughing. " He sees everything with eyes so different 
 from mine, that I scarce know what to make of him. I 
 have never known John so deeply interested in any hu- 
 man being, as he is at this moment in this strange creat- 
 
 ure 
 
 " Creature ! You men do not often call young ladies 
 
loo THE WA YS OF TITR HOUR. 
 
 creatures ; and my brother affirms that this Mary Monson 
 is a lady." 
 
 " Certainly she is, so far as exterior, manner, education, 
 and, I suppose, tastes, are concerned. Nevertheless, there 
 is too much reason to think she is, in some way unknown 
 to us, connected with crime." 
 
 " I have read accounts of persons of these attainments 
 who have been leagued together, and have carried on a 
 great system of plundering for years, with prodigious suc- 
 cess. That, however, was in older countries, where the 
 necessities of a crowded population drive men into ex- 
 tremes. We are hardly sufficiently advanced, or civilized 
 as they call it, for such bold villany." 
 
 " A suspicion of that nature has crossed my mind," re- 
 turned Millington, looking askance over his shoulder, as 
 if he apprehended that his friend might hear him. "It 
 will not do, however, to remotely hint to John anything 
 of the sort. His mind is beyond the influence of testi- 
 mony." 
 
 Sarah scarce knew what to make of the affair, though 
 sisterly regard disposed her to do all she could to oblige 
 her brother. Marie Moulin, however, was not easily per- 
 suaded into consenting to serve a mistress who was in 
 prison. She held up her hands, turned up her eyes, ut- 
 tered fifty exclamations, and declared, over and over again, 
 " c'est impossible ;" and wondered how a female in such a 
 situation could suppose any respectable domestic would 
 serve her, as it would be very sure to prevent her ever 
 
 fetting a good place afterward. This last objection struck 
 arah as quite reasonable, and had not her brother been 
 so very urgent with her, would of itself have induced her 
 to abandon all attempt at persuasion. Marie, however, 
 finally yielded to a feeling of intense curiosity, when no 
 bribe in money could have bought her. John had said the 
 prisoner knew her had known her in Europe and she 
 was soon dying with the desire to know who, of all her 
 many acquaintances in the old world, could be the partic- 
 ular individual who had got herself into this formidable 
 difficulty. It was impossible to resist this feeling, so truly 
 feminine, which was a good deal stimulated by a secret 
 wish in Sarah, also, to learn who this mysterious person 
 might be ; ana who did not fail to urge Marie, with all 
 her rhetoric, to consent to go and, at least, see the person 
 who had so strong a wish to engage her services. The 
 Swiss had not so much difficulty in complying, provided 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 101 
 
 she was permitted to reserve her final decision until she 
 had met the prisoner, when she might gratify her curiosity, 
 and return to town prepared to enlighten Miss Wilmeter, 
 and all her other friends, on a subject that had got to be 
 intensely interesting. 
 
 It was not late, next morning, when Marie Moulin, at- 
 tended by John Wilmeter, presented herself to Mrs. Gott, 
 as an applicant for admission to the gallery of Mary Mon- 
 son. The young man did not show himself, on this oc- 
 casion ; though he was near enough to hear the grating 
 of the hinges when the prison-door opened. 
 
 " C'est bien vous done, Marie!" said the prisoner, in a 
 quick but pleased salutation. 
 
 ''Mademoiselle!" exclaimed the Swiss. The kisses of 
 women succeeded. The door closed, and John Wilmeter 
 learned no more, on that occasion. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 And can you by no drift of conference 
 
 Get from him why he puts on this confusion Hamlet. 
 
 THERE is something imaginative, if not very picturesque, 
 in the manner in which the lawyers of Manhattan occupy 
 the buildings of Nassau Street, a thoroughfare which con- 
 nects Wall Street with the Tombs. There they throng, 
 resembling the remains of so many monuments along the 
 Appian Way, with a " siste, viator " of their own, to arrest 
 the footsteps of the wayfarer. We must now transfer the 
 scene to a building in this street, which stands about half- 
 way between Maiden Lane and John Street, having its front 
 plastered over with little tin signs, like a debtor marked 
 by writs, or what are now called " complaints.* Among 
 these signs, which afforded some such pleasant reading as 
 an almanac, was one that bore this simple and reasonably 
 intelligent inscription : 
 
 u Thomas Dunscomb, 2d floor, in front." 
 
 It is somewhat singular that terms as simple as those of 
 first floor, second floor, etc., should not signify the same 
 things in the language of the mother country and that of 
 this land of progress and liberty. Certain it is, neverthe- 
 
102 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 less, that in American parlance, more especially in that of 
 Manhattan, a first floor is never up one pair of stairs, as in 
 London, unless indeed the flight is that by which the 
 wearied foot-passenger climbs the high stoop to gain an 
 entrance into the building. In other words, an English 
 first floor corresponds with an American second ; and, 
 taking that as the point of departure, the same difference 
 exists throughout. Tom Dunscomb's office (or offices 
 would be the better term) occupied quite half of the second 
 story of a large double house, that had once been the habita- 
 tion of some private family of note, but which had long been 
 abandoned to the occupation of these ministers of the law. 
 Into those offices it has now become our duty to accom- 
 pany one who seemed a little strange in that den of the 
 profession, at the very moment he was perfectly at home. 
 
 " Lawyer Dunscomb in ? " demanded this person, who 
 had a decided rustic mien, though his dress had a sort of 
 legal dye on it, speaking to one of the five or six clerks 
 who raised their heads on the stranger's entrance. 
 
 " In, but engaged in a consultation, I believe," answered 
 one who, being paid for his services, was the working 
 clerk of the office ; most of the others being students who 
 get no remuneration for their time, and who very rarely 
 deserve it. 
 
 "I'll wait till he is through," returned the stranger, 
 helping himself coolly to a vacant chair, and taking his seat 
 in the midst of dangers that might have alarmed one less 
 familiar with the snares, and quirks, and quiddities of the 
 law. The several clerks, after taking a good look each at 
 their guest, cast their eyes down on their books or fools- 
 cap, and seemed to be engrossed with their respective oc- 
 cupations. Most of the young men, members of respectable 
 families in town, set the stranger down for a rustic client ; 
 but the working clerk saw at once, by a certain self-pos- 
 sessed and shrewd manner, that the stranger was a country 
 practitioner. 
 
 In the course of the next half hour, Daniel Lord and 
 George Wood came out of the sanctum, attended as far as 
 the door by Dunscomb himself. Exchanging " good morn- 
 ing" with his professional friends, the last caught a 
 glimpse of his patient visitor, whom he immediately 
 saluted by the somewhat brief and familiar name of 
 Timms, inviting him instantly, and with earnestness, to 
 come within the limits of the privileged. Mr. Timms 
 complied, entering the sanctum with the air of one who 
 
THE IV AYS OF THE HOUR. 103 
 
 had been there before, and appearing to be in no manner 
 overcome by the honor he enjoyed. And now, as a faithful 
 chronicler of events, it is here become our painful, not to 
 say revolting duty, to record an act on the part of the man 
 who was known throughout Dukes County as Squire 
 Timms, which it will never do to overlook, since it has 
 got to be perfectly distinctive and characteristic of late 
 years, not of an individual, but of large classes who throng 
 the bar, the desk, the stearn-boats, the taverns, the streets. 
 A thousand paragraphs have been written on the subject 
 of American spitting, and not one line, as we can remem- 
 cer, on the subject of an equally common and still grosser 
 offence against the minor morals of the country, if de- 
 cency in manners maybe thus termed. Our meaning will 
 be explained more fully in the narrative of the stranger's 
 immediate movements on entering the sanctum. 
 
 "Take a seat, Mr. Timms," said Dunscomb, motioning 
 to a chair, while he resumed his own well-cushioned seat, 
 and deliberately proceeded to light a cigar, not without 
 pressing several with a species of intelligent tenderness, 
 between his thumb and finger. " Take a seat sir ; and 
 take a cigar." 
 
 Here occurred the great tour de force in manners of 
 Squire Timms. Considerately turning his person quarter- 
 ing toward his host, and seizing himself by the nose, much 
 as if he had a quarrel with that member of his face, he 
 blowed a blast that sounded sonorously, and which ful- 
 filled all that it promised. Now a better-mannered man 
 than Dunscomb it would not be easy to find. He was not 
 particularly distinguished for elegance of deportment, but 
 he was perfectly well-bred. Nevertheless, he did not flinch 
 before this broad hint from vulgarity, but stood it un- 
 moved. To own the truth, so large has been the inroad 
 from the base of society, within the last five-and-twenty 
 years, on the habits of those who once exclusively dwelt 
 together, that he had got hardened even to this innovation. 
 The fact is not to be concealed, and, as we intend never to 
 touch upon the subject again, we shall say distinctly that 
 Mr. Timms blew his nose with his fingers, and that, in so 
 doing, he did not innovate half as much, to-day, on the 
 usages of the Upper Ten Thousand, as he would have 
 done had he blown his nose with his thumb only, a quar- 
 ter of a century since. 
 
 Dunscomb bore this infliction philosophically ; and well 
 he might, for there was no remedy. Waiting for Timms 
 
io4 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 to use his handkerchief, which was produced somewhat 
 tardily for such an operation, he quietly opened the sul> 
 ject of their interview. 
 
 " So the grand jury has actually found a bill for murder 
 and arson, my nephew writes me," Dunscomb observed, 
 looking inquiringly at his companion, as if really anxious 
 for further intelligence. 
 
 " Unanimously, they tell me, Mr. Dunscomb," answered 
 Timms. <; I understand that only one man hesitated, and 
 he was brought round before they came into court. That 
 piece of money damns our case in old Dukes." 
 
 " Money saves more cases than it damns, Timms ; and 
 no one knows it better than yourself." 
 
 "Very true, sir. Money may defy even the new Code. 
 Give me five hundred dollars, and change the proceedings 
 to a civil action, and I'll carry anything in my own county 
 that you'll put on the calendar, barring some twenty or 
 thirty jurors I could name. There are about thirty men 
 in the county that I can do nothing with for that matter, 
 whom I dare not approach." 
 
 " How the deuce is it, Timms, that you manage your 
 causes with so much success ? for I remember you have 
 given me a good deal of trouble in suits in which law and 
 fact were both clearly enough on my side." 
 
 " I suppose those must have been causes in which we 
 1 horse-shedded ' and ' pillowed ' a good deal." 
 
 " Horse-shedded and pillowed ! Those are legal terms 
 of which I have no knowledge ! " 
 
 " They are country phrases, sir, and country customs 
 too, for that matter. A man might practise a long life in 
 town, and know nothing about them. The Halls of Jus- 
 tice are not immaculate ; but they can tell us nothing of 
 horse-shedding and pillowing. They do business in a way 
 of which we in the country are just as ignorant as you are 
 of our mode." 
 
 " Have the goodness, Timms, just to explain the mean- 
 ing of your terms, which are quite new to me. I will not 
 swear they are not in the Co<^e of Practice, but they are in 
 neither Blackstone nor Kent." 
 
 " Horse-shedding, Squire Dunscomb, explains itself. In 
 the country most of the jurors, witnesses, etc., have more 
 or less to do with the horse-sheds, if it's only to see that 
 their beasts are fed. Well, we keep proper talkers there, 
 and it must be a knotty case, indeed, into which an ingen- 
 ious hand cannot thrust a doubt or an argument. To 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 105 
 
 be frank with you, I've known three pretty difficult suits 
 summed up under a horse-shed in one day : and twice as 
 many opened." 
 
 " But how is this done ? do you present your arguments 
 directly, as in court ? " 
 
 "Lord bless you, no. In court, unless the jury happen 
 to be unusually excellent, counsel have to pay some little 
 regard to the testimony and the law ; but, in horse-shed' 
 ding, one has no need of either. A skilful horse-shedder, 
 for instance, will talk a party to pieces, and not say a word 
 about the case. That's the perfection of the business. It's 
 against the law, you know, Mr. Dunscomb, to talk of a case 
 before a juror an indictable offence but one may make a 
 case of a party's general character, of his means, his miser- 
 ly qualities, or his aristocracy ; and it will be hard to get 
 hold of the talker for any of them qualities. Aristocracy, 
 of late years, is a capital argument, and will suit almost 
 any state of facts, or any action you can bring. Only per- 
 suade the jury that the plaintiff or defendant fancies him- 
 self better than they are, and the verdict is certain. I got 
 a thousand dollars in the Springer case, solely on that 
 ground. Aristocracy did it ! It is going to do us a great 
 deal of harm in this murder and arson indictment." 
 
 " But Mary Monson is no aristocrat she is a stranger, 
 and unknown. What privileges does she enjoy, to render 
 her obnoxious to the charge of aristocracy ? " 
 
 " More than will do her any good. Her aristocracy does 
 her almost as much harm in old Dukes as the piece of gold. 
 I always consider a cause as half lost when there is any 
 aristocracy in it." 
 
 " Aristocracy means exclusive political privileges in the 
 hands of a few ; and it means nothing else. Now what 
 exclusive political privileges does this unfortunate young- 
 woman enjoy ? She is accused of two of the highest 
 crimes known to the laws, is indicted, imprisoned, and will 
 be tried." 
 
 "Yes, and by her fleers," said Timms, taking out a very 
 respectable-looking box, and helping himself liberally to a 
 pinch of cut tobacco. " It's wonderful, Squire Dunscomb, 
 how much breadth the peerage possesses in this country ! I 
 saw a trial, a year or two since, in which one of the highest 
 intellects of the land was one of the parties, and in which 
 a juror asked the judge to explain the meaning of the word 
 'bereaved.' That citizen had his rights referred to his 
 peers, with a vengeance !" 
 
Io6 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "Yes ; the venerable maxim of the common law is, oc- 
 casionally, a little caricatured among us. This is owing to 
 our adhering to antiquated opinions after the facts in which 
 they had their origin have ceased to exist. But, by your 
 manner of treating the subject, Timms, I infer that you 
 give up the aristocracy." 
 
 " Not at all. Our client will have more risks to run on 
 account of that, than on account of any other weak spot in 
 her case. I think we might get along with the piece of 
 gold, as a life is in question, but it is not quite so easy to 
 see how we are to get along with the aristocracy." 
 
 " And this in the face of her imprisonment, solitary con- 
 dition, friendless state, and utter dependence on strangers, 
 for her future fate ? I see no one feature of aristocracy 
 to reproach her with." 
 
 " But I see a great many, and so does the neighborhood. 
 It is already getting to be the talk of half the county. In 
 short, all are talking about it, but they who know better. 
 You'll see, Squire Dunscomb, there are two sorts of aris- 
 tocracy in the eyes of most people ; your sort and my sort. 
 Your sort is a state of society that gives privileges and 
 power to a few, and keeps it there. That is what I call 
 old-fashioned aristocracy, about which nobody cares any- 
 thing in this country. We have no aristocrats, I allow, and 
 consequently they don't signify a straw." 
 
 "Yet they are the only true aristocrats, after all. But 
 what, or who are yours ?" 
 
 "Well, now, squire, you are a sort of aristocrat yourself, 
 in a certain way. I don't know how it is I'm admitted 
 to the bar as well as you have just as many rights 
 
 " More, Timms, if leading jurors by the nose, and horse- 
 shedding, can be accounted rights." 
 
 "Well, more in some respects, maybe. Notwithstand- 
 ing all this, there is a difference between us a difference 
 in our ways, in our language, in our ideas, our manner of 
 thinking and acting, that sets you up above me in a way I 
 should not like in any other man. As you did so much 
 for me when a boy, sir, and carried me through to the bar 
 on your shoulders, as it might be, I shall always look up 
 to you ; though I must say that I do not always like even 
 your superiority." 
 
 " I should be sorry, Timms, if I ever so far forget my own 
 
 freat defects, as to parade unfeelingly any little advantages 
 may happen to possess over you, or over any other man, 
 in consequence of the accidents of birth and education." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 107 
 
 "You do not parade them unfeelingly, sir; you do not 
 parade them at all. Still, they will show themselves ; and 
 they are just the things I do not like to look .at. Now, 
 what is true of me, is true of all my neighbors. We call 
 anything aristocracy that is a touch above us, let it be 
 what it may. I sometimes think Squire Dunscomb is a 
 sort of an aristocrat in the law ! Now, as for our client, she 
 has a hundred ways with her that are not the ways of Dukes, 
 unless you go among the tip-toppers." 
 
 " The Upper Ten 
 
 " Pshaw ! I know better than that myself, squire. Their 
 Upper Ten should be upper one, or two, to be common 
 sense. Rude and untaught as I was until you took me by 
 the hand, sir, I can tell the difference between those who 
 wear kids, and ride in their coaches, and those who are fit 
 for either. Our client has none of this, sir ; and that it is 
 which surprises me. She has no Union Place, or Fifth 
 Avenue, about her, but is the true coin. There is one 
 thing in particular that I'm afraid may do her harm." 
 
 " It is the true coin which usually passes with the least 
 trouble from hand to hand. But what is this particular 
 source of uneasiness ? " 
 
 "Why, the client has a lady friend " 
 
 A little exclamation from Dunscomb caused the speaker 
 to pause, while the counsellor removed the cigar from his 
 mouth, knocked^ off its ashes, and appeared to ponder 
 for a moment, touching the best manner of treating a 
 somewhat delicate subject. At length, native frankness 
 overcame all scruples, and he spoke plainly, or as the 
 familiar instructor might be expected to address a very 
 green pupil. 
 
 " If you love me, Timms, never repeat that diabolical 
 phrase again," said Dunscomb, looking quite serious, how- 
 ever much there might have been of affectation in his as- 
 pect. "It is even worse than Hurlgate, which I have told 
 you fifty times I cannot endure. ' Lady friend ' is infernally 
 vulgar, and I will not stand it. You may blow your nose 
 with your fingers, if it give you especial satisfaction, and you 
 may blow out against aristocracy as much as you please ; 
 but you shall not talk to me about ' lady friends ' or ' Hurl- 
 gate.' I am no dandy, but a respectable elderly gentleman, 
 who professes to speak English, and who wishes to be 
 addressed in his own language. Heaven knows what the 
 country is coming to ! There is Webster, to begin with, 
 cramming a Yankee dialect down our throats for good 
 
ro8 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 English ; then comes all the cant of the day, flourishing 
 finical phrases, and new significations to good old homely 
 words, and changing the very nature of mankind by means 
 of terms. Last of all, is this infernal Code, in which the 
 ideas are as bad as possible, and the terms still worse. But 
 whom do you mean by your ' lady friend ' ? " 
 
 "The French lady that has been with our client, now, 
 for a fortnight. Depend on it, she will do us no good 
 when we are on. She is too aristocratic altogether." 
 
 Dunscomb laughed outright. Then he passed a hand 
 across his brow, and seemed to muse. 
 
 "All this is very serious," he at length replied, "and is 
 really no laughing matter. A pretty pass are we coming 
 to, if the administration of the law is to be influenced by 
 such things as these ! The doctrine is openly held that the 
 rich shall not, ought not to, embellish their amusements at 
 a cost that the poor cannot compass ; and here we have 
 a member of the bar telling us a prisoner shall not have 
 justice because she has a foreign maid-servant ! " 
 
 "A servant ! Call her any tiling but that, squire, if you 
 wish for success ! A prisoner accused of capital crimes, 
 with a servant, would be certain to be condemned. Even 
 the court would hardly stand that." 
 
 " Timms, you are a shrewd, sagacious fellow, and are apt 
 to laugh in your sleeve at follies of this nature, as I well 
 know from long acquaintance ; and here you insist on 
 one of the greatest of all absurdities." 
 
 " Things are changed in Ameriky, Mr. Dunscomb. The 
 people are beginning to govern ; and when they can't do 
 it legally they do it without law. Don't you see what the 
 papers say about having operas and play-houses at the 
 people's prices, and the right to hiss ? There's Constitu- 
 tion for you ! I wonder what Kent and Blackstone would 
 say to that ? " 
 
 " Sure enough. They would find some novel features in a 
 liberty which says a man shall not set the price on the seats 
 in his own theatre, and that the hissing may be done by an 
 audience in the streets. The facts are, Timms, that all these 
 abuses about O. P.'s, and controlling other persons' con- 
 cerns under the pretence that the public has rights where, 
 as a public, it has no rights at all, come from the reaction 
 of a half-way liberty ifi other countries. Here, where the 
 people are really free, having all the power, and where no 
 political right is hereditary, the people ought, at least, to 
 respect their own ordinances." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 109 
 
 " Do you not consider a theatre a public place, Squire 
 Dunscomb ? " 
 
 " In one sense it is, certainly ; but not in the sense that 
 bears on this pretended power over it. The very circum- 
 stance that the audience pay for their seats, makes it, in 
 law as in fact, a matter of covenant. As for this new- 
 fangled absurdity about its being a duty to furnish low- 
 priced seats for the poor, where they may sit and look at 
 pretty women because they cannot see them elsewhere, it 
 is scarcely worth an argument. If the rich should demand 
 that the wives and daughters of the poor should be paraded 
 in the pits and galleries, for their patrician eyes to feast on, 
 a pretty clamor there would be ! If the State requires 
 cheap theatres, and- cheap women, let the State pay for 
 them, as it does for its other wants ; but, if these amuse- 
 ments are to be the object of private speculations, let pri- 
 vate wisdom control them. I have no respect for one-sided 
 liberty, let it cant as much as it may." 
 
 " Well, I don't know, sir ; I have read some of these arti- 
 cles, and they seem to me " 
 
 " What convincing ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not just that, squire ; but very agreeable. I'm 
 not rich enough to pay for a high place at an opera cr a 
 theatre ; and it is pleasant to fancy that a poor feller can 
 get one of the best seats at half-price. Now in England, 
 they tell me, the public won't stand prices they don't like." 
 
 " Individuals of the public may refuse to purchase, and 
 there their rights cease. An opera, in particular, is a very ex- 
 pensive amusement ; and in all countries where the rates 
 of admission are low, the governments contribute to the 
 expenditures. This is done from policy, to keep the peo- 
 ple quiet, and possibly to help civilize them ; but if we are 
 not far beyond the necessity of any such expedients, our 
 institutions are nothing but a sublime mystification." 
 
 " It is wonderful, squire, how many persons see the loose 
 side of democracy, who have no notion of the tight! But, 
 all this time, our client is in jail at Biberrv, and must be 
 tried next week. Has nothing been done, squire, to choke 
 off the newspapers, who have something to say about her 
 almost every day ? It's quite time the other side should 
 be heard." 
 
 " It is very extraordinary that the persons who control 
 these papers should be so indifferent to the rights of others 
 as to allow such paragraphs to find a place in their col- 
 umns." 
 
HO THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Indifferent ! What do they care, so long as the jour- 
 nal sells ? In our case, however, I rather suspect that a 
 certain reporter has taken offence ; and when men of that 
 class get offended, look out for news of the color of their 
 anger. Isn't it wonderful, Squire Dunscomb, that the peo- 
 ple don't see and feel that they are sustaining low tyrants, 
 in two-thirds of their silly clamor about the liberty of the 
 press ? " 
 
 " Many do see it ; and I think this engine has lost a great 
 deal of its influence within the last few years. As respects 
 proceedings in the courts, there never will be any true lib- 
 erty in the country, until the newspapers are bound hand 
 and foot." 
 
 "You are right enough in one thing, squire, and that is 
 in the ground the press has lost. It has pretty much used 
 itself up in Dukes ; and I would pillow and horse-shed a 
 cause through against it, the best day it ever saw !" 
 
 By the way, Timms, you have not explained the pillow- 
 ing process to me." 
 
 " I should think the word itself would do that, sir. You 
 know how it is in the country. Half a dozen beds are put 
 in the same room, and two in a bed. Waal, imagine three 
 or four jurors in one of these rooms, and two chaps along 
 with 'em, with instructions how to talk. The conversation 
 is the most innocent and nat'ral in the world ; not a word 
 too much or too little ; but it sticks like a burr. The juror 
 is a plain, simple-minded countryman, and swallows all that 
 his room-mates say, and goes into the box next day in a 
 beautiful frame of mind to listen to reason and evidence ! 
 No, no ; give me two or three of these pillow-counsellors, 
 and I'll undo all that the journals can do, in a single con- 
 versation. You'll remember, squire, that we get the last 
 word by this system ; and if the first blow is half the battle 
 in war, the last word is another half in the law. Oh ! it's 
 a beautiful business, is this trial by jury ! " 
 
 " All this is very wrong, Timms. For a longtime I have 
 known that you have exercised an extraordinary influence 
 over the jurors of Dukes ; but this is the first occasion on 
 which you have been frank enough to reveal the process." 
 
 " Because this is the first occasion on which we have ever 
 had a capital case together. In the present state of pub- 
 lic opinion, in Dukes, I much question whether we can get 
 a jury impanelled in this trial at all." 
 
 " The Supreme Court will then send us to town, by waj 
 of mending the matter. Apropos, Timms " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. in 
 
 " One word, if you please, squire ; what does d propos 
 really mean ? I hear it almost every day, but never yet 
 knew the meaning." 
 
 " It has shades of difference in its signification as I just 
 used it, it means ' speaking of that* ' 
 
 " And is it right to say a propos to such a thing ? " 
 
 " It is better to say a propos of, as the French do. In old 
 -English, it was always to; but in our later mode of speak- 
 ing, we say 'of.' ' 
 
 " Thank you, sir. You know how I glean my knowledge 
 in driblets ; and out in the country not always from the 
 highest authorities. Plain and uncouth as I know I appear 
 to you, and to Miss Sarah, I have an ambition to be a gen- 
 tleman. Now I have observation enough to see that it is 
 these little matters, after all, and not riches and fine clothes, 
 that make gentlemen and ladies." 
 
 "I am glad you have so much discrimination, Timms ; 
 but, you must permit me to remark, that you will never 
 make a gentleman until you learn to let your nose alone." 
 
 "Thank you, sir I am thankful for even the smallest 
 hints on manners. It's a pity that so handsome and so 
 agreeable a young lady should be hanged, Mr. Dunscomb ! " 
 
 " Timms, you are as shrewd a fellow in your own way, 
 as I know. Your law does not amount to any great mat- 
 ter, nor do you take hold of the strong points of a case 
 very often ; but you perform wonders with the weaker. In 
 the way of an opinion on facts, I know few men more to 
 be relied on. Tell me, then, frankly, what do you think 
 of the guilt or innocence of Mary Monson ? " 
 
 Timms screwed up his mouth, passed a hand over his 
 brow, and did not answer for near a minute. 
 
 " Perhaps it is right, after all, that we should understand 
 each other on this subject," he then said. " We are asso- 
 ciated as counsel, and I feel it a great honor to be so as- 
 sociated, Squire Dunscomb,-! give you my word ; and it is 
 proper that we should be as free with each other as broth- 
 ers. In the first place, then, I never saw such a client be- 
 fore, as this same lady for lady I suppose we must call 
 her until she is convicted 
 
 " Convicted ! You cannot think there is much danger 
 of that, Timms ?" 
 
 " We never know, sir ; we never know. I have lost cases 
 of which I was sure, and gained them of which I had no 
 hopes cases which I certainly ought not to have gained 
 ag'in all law and the facts." 
 
112 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 11 Ay, that came of the horse-shed, and the sleeping of 
 two in a bed." 
 
 " Perhaps it did, squire," returned Timms, laughing very 
 freely, though without making any noise ; " perhaps it did. 
 When the small-pox is about, there is no telling who may 
 take it. As for this case, Squire Dunscomb, it is my opinion 
 we shall have to run for disagreements. If we can get the 
 juries to disagree once or twice, and can get a change of 
 venue, with a couple of charges, the deuce is in it if a man 
 of your experience don't corner them so tightly, they'll 
 give the matter up, rather than have any more trouble 
 about it. After all, the State can't gain much by hanging 
 a young woman that nobody knows, even if she be a little 
 aristocratical. We must get her to change her dress alto- 
 gether, and some of her ways too ; which, in her circum- 
 stances, I call downright hanging ways ; and the sooner 
 she is rid of them, the better." 
 
 " I see that you do not think us very strong on the mer- 
 its, Timms, which is as much as admitting the guilt of our 
 client. I was a good deal inclined to suspect the worst 
 myself ; but two or three more interviews, and what my 
 nephew Jack Wilmeter tells me, have produced a change. 
 I am now strongly inclined to believe her innocent. She 
 has some great and secret cause of apprehension, I will 
 allow ; but I do not think these unfortunate Goodwins 
 have anything to do with it." 
 
 "Waal, one never knows. The verdict, if 'not guilty,' 
 will be just as good as if she was as innocent as a child 
 a year old. I see how the work is to be done. All the 
 law, and the summing up, will fall to your share ; while 
 the out-door work will be mine. We may carry her 
 through though I'm of opinion that, if we do, it will 
 be more by means of bottom than by means of foot. 
 There is one thing that is very essential, sir the money 
 must hold out." 
 
 " Do you want a refresher so soon, Timms ? Jack tells 
 me that she has given you two hundred and fifty dollars 
 already!" 
 
 " I acknowledge it, sir ; and a very respectable fee it is 
 you ought to have a thousand, squire." 
 
 " I have not received a cent, nor do I mean to touch any 
 of her money. My feelings are in the case, and I am will- 
 ing to work for nothing." 
 
 Timms gave his old master a quick but scrutinizing 
 glance. Dunscomb was youthful, in all respects, for his 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 113 
 
 time of life ; and many a man has loved, and married, and 
 become the parent of a flourishing family, who had seen 
 all the days he had seen. That glance was to inquire if it 
 were possible that the uncle and nephew were likely to be 
 rivals, and to obtain as much knowledge as could be readily 
 gleaned in a quick, jealous lopk. But the counsellor was 
 calm as usual, and no tinge of color, no sigh, no gentle- 
 ness of expression, betrayed the existence of the master 
 passion. It was reported among the bachelor's intimates 
 that formerly, when he was about five-and-twenty, he had 
 had an affair of the heart, which had taken such deep hold 
 that even the lady's marriage with another man had not 
 destroyed its impression. That marriage was said not to 
 have been happy, and was succeeded by a second, that was 
 still less so ; though the parties were affluent, educated, 
 and possessed all the means that are commonly supposed 
 to produce felicity. A single child was the issue of the 
 first marriage, and its birth had shortly preceded the sep- 
 aration that followed. Three years later the father died, 
 leaving the whole of a very ample fortune to this child, 
 coupled with the strange request that Dunscomb, once the 
 betrothed of her mother, should be the trustee and guar- 
 dian of the daughter. This extraordinary demand had not 
 been complied with, and Dunscomb had not seen any of 
 the parties from the time he broke with his mistress. The 
 heiress married young, died within the year, and left an- 
 other heiress ; but no further allusion to our counsellor 
 was made in any of the later wills and settlements. Once, 
 indeed, he had been professionally consulted concerning 
 the devises in favor of the granddaughter a certain Mil- 
 dred Millington who w r as a second cousin to Michael of 
 that name, and as rich as he was poor. For some years, 
 a sort of vague expectation prevailed that these two 
 young Millingtons might marry ; but a feud existed in 
 the family, and little or no intercourse was permitted. 
 The early removal of the young lady to a distant school 
 prevented such a result ; and Michael, in due time, fell 
 within the influence of Sarah Wilmeter's gentleness, beauty, 
 and affection. 
 
 Timms came to the conclusion that his old master was 
 not in love. 
 
 " It is very convenient to be rich, squire," this singular 
 
 being remarked ; "and I dare say it may be very pleasant 
 
 to practise for nothing, when a man has his pocket full of 
 
 money. I am poor, and have particular satisfaction in a 
 
 8 
 
II 4 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 good warm fee. By the way, sir, my part of the business 
 requires plenty of money. I do not think I can even com- 
 mence operations with less than five hundred dollars." 
 
 Dunscomb leaned back, stretched forth an arm, drew 
 his check-book from its niche, and filled a check for the 
 sum jus^t mentioned. This he quietly handed to Timms, 
 without asking for any receipt ; for, while he knew that 
 his old student and fellow-practitioner was no more to be 
 trusted in matters of practice than was an eel in the hand, 
 he knew that he was scrupulously honest in matters of ac- 
 count. There was not a man in the State to whom Duns- 
 comb would sooner confide the care of uncounted gold, 
 or the administration of an estate, or the payment of a 
 legacy, than this very individual, who, he also well knew, 
 would not scruple to set all the provisions of the law at 
 naught, in order to obtain a verdict, when his feelings 
 were really in the case. 
 
 "There, Timms," said the senior counsel, glancing at his 
 draft before he handed it to the other, in order to see that 
 it was correct ; " there is what you ask for. Five hundred 
 for expenses, and half as much as a fee." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. I hope this is not gratuitous, as well 
 as the services ?" 
 
 " It is not. There is no want of funds, and I am put in 
 possession of sufficient money to carry us through with 
 credit ; but it is as a trustee, and not as a fee. This, in- 
 deed, is the most extraordinary part of the whole affair ; 
 to find a delicate, educated, accomplished lady, with her 
 pockets well lined, in such a situation ! " 
 
 " Why, squire," said Timms, passing his hand down his 
 chin, and trying to look simple and disinterested, " I am 
 afraid clients like ours are often flush. I have been em- 
 ployed about the Tombs a good deal in my time, and 
 I have gin'rally found that the richest clients were the 
 biggest rogues." 
 
 Dunscomb gave his companion a long and contemplative 
 look. He saw that Timms did not entertain quite as favor- 
 able an opinion of Mary Monson as he did himself, or 
 rather that he was fast getting to entertain ; for his own 
 distrust originally was scarcely less than that of this hack- 
 neyed dealer with human vices. A long, close and strin- 
 gent examination of all of Tirnms's facts succeeded facts 
 that had been gleaned by collecting statements on the 
 spot. Then a consultation followed, from which it might 
 be a little premature, just now, to raise the veil. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 115 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Her speech is nothing, 
 
 Yet the unshaped use of it doth move 
 
 The hearers to collection. They aim at it, 
 
 And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts. Hamlet. 
 
 THE reader is not to be surprised at the intimacy which 
 existed between Thomas Dunscomb and the half-educated 
 semi-rude being who was associated with him as counsel 
 in the important cause that was now soon to be tried. 
 Such intimacies are by no means uncommon in the course 
 of events ; men often overlooking great dissimilarities in 
 principles, as well as in personal qualities, in managing 
 their associations, so far as they are connected with the 
 affairs of this world. The circumstance that Timms had 
 studied in our counsellor's office would, as a matter of 
 course, produce certain relations between them in after- 
 life ; but the student had made himself useful to his former 
 master on a great variety of occasions, and was frequently 
 employed by him whenever there was a cause depending 
 in the courts of Dukes, the county in which the unpolished, 
 half-educated, but hard-working and successful county 
 practitioner had established himself. It may be questioned 
 if Dunscomb really knew all the agencies set in motion by 
 his coadjutor in difficult cases ; but, whether he did or not, 
 it is quite certain that many of them were of a character 
 not to see the light. It is very much the fashion of oijr 
 good republic to turn up its nose at all other lands, a habit 
 no doubt inherited from our great ancestors the English ; 
 and one of its standing themes of reproach are the legal 
 corruptions and abuses known to exist in France, Spain, 
 Italy, etc. ; all over the world, in short, except among our- 
 selves. So far as the judges are concerned, there is a sur- 
 prising adherence to duty, when bribes alone are con- 
 cerned, no class of men on earth being probably less 
 obnoxious to just imputations of this character than the in- 
 numerable corps of judicial officers ; underpaid, poor, hard- 
 worked, and we might almost add unhonored, as they are. 
 That cases in which bribes are taken do occur, we make no 
 doubt ; it would be assuming too much in favor of human 
 nature to infer the contrary ; but, under the system of 
 publicity that prevails, it would not be easy for this crime 
 
116 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 to extend very far without its being exposed. It is greatly 
 to the credit of the vast judicial corps of the States, that 
 bribery is an offence which does not appear to be even 
 suspected at all ; or, if there be exceptions to the rule, 
 they exist in but few and isolated cases. Here, however, 
 our eulogies on American justice must cease. All that 
 Timms has intimated and Dunscomb has asserted concern- 
 ing the juries is true ; and the evil is one that each day 
 increases. The tendency of everything belonging to the 
 government is to throw pow r er directly into the hands of 
 the people, who, in nearly all cases, use it as men might 
 be supposed to do who are perfectly irresponsible, have 
 only a remote, and half the time an invisible interest in its 
 exercise ; who do not feel or understand the consequences 
 of their ow r n deeds, and have a pleasure in asserting a 
 seeming independence, and of appearing to think and act 
 for themselves. Under such a regime it is self-apparent 
 that principles and law must suffer ; and so the result 
 proves daily, if not hourly. The institution of the jury, 
 one of very questionable utility in its best aspects in a 
 country of really popular institutions, becomes nearly in- 
 tolerable, unless the courts exercise a strong and salutary 
 influence on the discharge of its duties. This influence, 
 unhappily, has been gradually lessening among us for the 
 last half century, until it has reached a point where noth- 
 ing is more common than to find the judge charging the 
 law one way, and the jury determining it another. In most 
 cases, it is true, there is a remedy for this abuse of power, 
 but it is costly, and ever attended with that delay in hope 
 "which maketh the heart sick." Any one, of even the 
 dullest apprehension, must, on a little reflection, perceive 
 that a condition of things in which the ends of justice are 
 defeated, or so procrastinated as to produce the results of 
 defeat, is one of the least desirable of all those in which 
 men can be placed under the social compact ; to say noth- 
 ing of its corrupting and demoralizing effects on the public 
 mind. 
 
 All this Dunscomb saw, more vividly, perhaps, than most 
 others of the profession, for men gradually get to be so 
 accustomed to abuses as not only to tolerate them, but to 
 come to consider them as evils inseparable from human 
 frailty. It was certain, however, that while our worthy 
 counsellor so far submitted to the force of things as fre 
 quently to close his eyes to Timms's manoeuvres, a weakness 
 uf which nearly every one is guilty who has much to do 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HO UK. II 7 
 
 with the management of men and things, he was never 
 known to do aught himself that was unworthy of his high 
 standing and well-merited reputation at the bar. There 
 is nothing unusual in this convenient compromise be- 
 tween direct and indirect relations with that which is 
 wrong. 
 
 It had early been found necessary to employ local coun- 
 sel in Mary Monson's case, and Timms was recommended 
 by his old master as one every way suited to the particular 
 offices needed. Most of the duties to be performed were 
 strictly legal ; though it is not to be concealed that some 
 soon presented themselves that would not bear the light. 
 John Wilmeter communicated to Timms the particular 
 state of the testimony, as he and Michael Millington had 
 been enabled to get at it ; and among other things he stated 
 his conviction that the occupants of the farm nearest to the 
 late dwelling of the Goodwins were likely to prove some 
 of the most dangerous of the witnesses against their client. 
 This family consisted of a sister-in-law, the Mrs. Burton 
 already mentioned, three unmarried sisters, and a brother, 
 who was the husband of the person first named. On this 
 hint Timms immediately put himself in communication 
 with these neighbors, concealing from them, as well as 
 from all others but good Mrs. Gott, that he was retained 
 in the case at all. 
 
 Timms was soon struck with the hints and half-revealed 
 statements of the persons of this household ; more espe- 
 cially with those of the female portion of it. The man ap- 
 peared to him to have observed less than his wife and 
 sisters ; but even he had much to relate, though, as Timms 
 fancied, more that he had gleaned from those around him, 
 than from his own observations. The sisters, however, had 
 a good deal to say ; while the wife, though silent and 
 guarded, seemed to this observer, as well as to young Mill- 
 ington, to know the most. When pressed to tell all, Mrs. 
 Burton looked melancholy and reluctant, frequently re- 
 turning to the subject of her own accord when it had been 
 casually dropped, but never speaking explicitly, though 
 often invited so to do. It was not the cue of the counsel 
 for the defence to drag out unfavorable evidence ; and 
 Timms employed certain confidential agents, whom he 
 often used in the management of his causes, to sift this 
 testimony as well as it could be done without the constrain- 
 ing power of the law. The result was not very satisfactory, 
 in any sense, more appearing to be suppressed than was 
 
iiS THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 related. It was feared that the legal officers of the State 
 would meet with better success. 
 
 The investigations of the junior counsel did not end 
 here. He saw that the public sentiment was setting in a 
 current so strongly against Mary Monson, that he soon de- 
 termined to counteract it, as well as might be, by produc- 
 ing a reaction. This is a very common, not to say a very 
 powerful agent, in the management of all interests that are 
 subject to popular opinion, in a democracy. Even the ap- 
 plicant for public favor is none the worse for beginning his 
 advances by "a little aversion," provided he can contrive 
 to make the premeditated change in his favor take the 
 aspect of a reaction. It may not be so easy to account for 
 this caprice of the common mind, as it is certain that it 
 exists. Perhaps we like to yield to a seeming generosity, 
 have a pleasure in appearing to pardon, find a consolation 
 for our own secret consciousness of errors, in thus extend- 
 ing favor to the errors of others, and have more satisfac- 
 tion in preferring those who are fallible, than in exalting 
 the truly upright and immaculate ; if, indeed, any such 
 there be. Let the cause be what it may, we think the 
 facts to be beyond dispute ; and so thought Timms also, 
 for he no sooner .resolved to counteract one public opinion 
 by means of another, than he set about the task with cool- 
 ness and intelligence in short, with a mixture of all the 
 good and bad qualities of the man. 
 
 The first of his measures was to counteract, as much as 
 he could, the effects of certain paragraphs that had ap- 
 peared in some of the New York journals. A man of 
 Timms's native shrewdness had no difficulty in compre- 
 hending the more vulgar moral machinery of a daily press. 
 Notwithstanding its " we's," and its pretension to repre- 
 sent public opinion, and to protect the common interests, 
 he thoroughly understood Tt was merely one mode of ad- 
 vancing the particular views, sustaining the personal 
 schemes, and not unfrequently of gratifying the low ma- 
 lignity of a single individual ; the press in America differ- 
 ing from that of nearly all other countries in the fact that 
 it is not controlled by associations, and does not reflect the 
 decisions of many minds, or contend for principles that, by 
 their very character, have a tendency to elevate the 
 thoughts. There are some immaterial exceptions as relates 
 to the latter characteristic, perhaps, principally growing 
 out of the great extra-constitutional question of slavery, 
 that has quite unnecessarily been drawn into the discus- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. i* 9 
 
 sions of the times through the excited warmth of zealots ; 
 but, as a rule, the exciting political questions that else- 
 where compose the great theme of the newspapers, enlarg- 
 ing their views, and elevating their articles, may be regard- 
 ed as settled among ourselves. In the particular case with 
 which Timms was now required to deal, there was neither 
 favor nor malice to counteract. The injustice, and a most 
 cruel injustice it was, was merely in catering to a morbid 
 desire for the marvellous in the vulgar, which might thus 
 be turned to profit. 
 
 Among the reporters there exists the same diversity of 
 qualities as among other men, beyond a question ; but the 
 tendency of the use of all power is to abuse ; and Timms 
 was perfectly aware that these men had far more pride in 
 the influence they wielded, than conscience in its exercise. 
 A ten- or a twenty-dollar note, judiciously applied, would 
 do a great deal with this "Palladium of our Liberties," 
 there being at least a dozen of these important safeguards 
 interested in the coming trial our associate counsel very 
 well knew ; and Dunscomb suspected that some such ap- 
 plication of the great persuader had been made, in conse- 
 quence of one or two judicious and well-turned paragraphs 
 that appeared soon after the consultation. But Timms's 
 management of the press was mainly directed to that of 
 the county newspapers. There were three of these ; and 
 as they had better characters than most of the Manhat- 
 tanese journals, so were they more confided in. It is true, 
 that the Whig readers never heeded in the least anything 
 that was said in The Dukes County Democrat ; but the 
 friends of the last took their revenge in discrediting all 
 that appeared in the columns of the Biberry Whig. In 
 this respect, the two great parties of the country were on a 
 par ; each manifesting a faith, that, in a better cause, might 
 suffice to move mountains ; and, on the other hand, an un- 
 belief that drove them into the dangerous folly of disre- 
 garding their foes. As Mary Monson had nothing to do 
 with politics, it was not difficult to get suitable paragraphs 
 inserted in the hostile columns, which was also done within 
 eight-and-forty hours after the return of the junior coun- 
 sel to his own abode. 
 
 Timms, however, was far from trusting to the newspapers 
 alone. He felt that it might be well enough to set " fire 
 to fight fire ;" but his main reliance was on the services 
 that could be rendered by a timely and judicious use of 
 "the little member." Talkers was what he wanted ; and 
 
120 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 well did he know where to find them, and how to get them 
 at work. A few he paid in a direct, business-like way ; 
 taking no vouchers for the sums bestowed, the reader may 
 be assured, but entering each item carefully in a little 
 memorandum-book kept for his own private information. 
 These strictly confidential agents went to work with ex- 
 perienced discretion but great industry, and soon had some 
 ten or fifteen fluent female friends actively engaged in 
 circulating " They says," in their respective neighborhoods. 
 
 Timms had reflected a great deal on the character of the 
 defence it might be most prudent to get up and enlarge 
 on. Insanity had been worn out by too much use of late ; 
 and he scarce gave that plea a second thought. This par- 
 ticular means of defence had been discussed between him 
 and Dunscomb, it is true ; but each of the counsel felt a 
 strong repugnance against resorting to it ; the one on ac- 
 count of his indisposition to rely on anything but the 
 truth ; the other, to use his own mode of expressing 
 himself on the occasion in question, because he "believed 
 that jurors could no longer be humbugged with that plea. 
 There have been all sorts of madmen and mad-women ' 
 
 " Gentlemen and lady murderers " put in Dunscomb, 
 dryly. 
 
 " I ask your pardon, squire ; but, since you give me the 
 use of my nose, I will offend as little as possible with the 
 tongue though, I rather conclude " a form of expression 
 much in favor with Timms "that should our verdict be 
 ' guilty,' you will be disposed to allow there may be one 
 lady criminal in the world." 
 
 "She is a most extraordinary creature, Timrns ; bothers 
 me more than any client I ever had ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! Waal, I had set her down as just the con- 
 trary for to me she seems to be as unconcerned as if the 
 wise four-and-twenty had not presented her to justice in 
 the name of the people." 
 
 " It is not in that sense that I am bothered no client 
 ever gave counsel less trouble than Mary Monson in that 
 respect. To me, Timms, she does not appear to have any 
 concern in reference to the result." 
 
 "Supreme innocence, or a well-practised experience. I 
 have defended many a person whom I knew to be guilty, 
 and two or three whom I believed to be innocent ; but 
 never before had as cool a client as this ! " 
 
 And very true was this. Even the announcement of the 
 presentment by the grand jury appeared to give Mary 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR, 121 
 
 Monson no great alarm. Perhaps she anticipated it from 
 the first, and had prepared herself for the event, by an ex- 
 ercise of a firmness little common to her sex until the 
 moments of extreme trial, when their courage would seem 
 to rise with the occasion. On her companion, whom 
 Timms had so elegantly styled her * Lady Friend,' certainly 
 as thoroughly vulgar an expression as was ever drawn into 
 the service of the heroics in gentility, warm-hearted and 
 faithful Marie Moulin, the intelligence produced far more 
 effect. It will be remembered that Wilmeter overheard 
 the single cry of "Mademoiselle" when this Swiss was 
 first admitted to the jail ; after which an impenetrable veil 
 closed around their proceedings. The utmost good feel- 
 ing and confidence were apparent in the intercourse be- 
 tween the young mistress and her maid ; if, indeed, Marie 
 might thus be termed, after the manner in which she was 
 treated. So far from being kept at the distance which it is 
 usual to observe toward an attendant, the Swiss was admit- 
 ted to MaryMonson's table ; and to the eyes of indifferent 
 observers she might very well pass for what Timms had so 
 elegantly called a " lady friend." But Jack Wilmeter knew 
 too much of the world to be so easily misled. It is true, 
 that when he paid his short visits to the jail, Marie Moulin 
 sat sewing at the prisoner's side, and occasionally she even 
 hummed low, national airs while he was present ; but 
 knowing the original condition of the maid-servant, our 
 young man was not to be persuaded that his uncle's client 
 was her peer, any more than were the jurors who, agree- 
 ably to that profound mystification of the common law, are 
 thus considered and termed. Had not Jack Wilmeter 
 known the real position of Marie Moulin, her " mademoi- 
 selle " would have let him deeper into the secrets of the 
 two than it is probable either ever imagined. This word, 
 in common with those of "monsieur" and "madame," are 
 used, by French servants, differently from what they are 
 used in general society. Unaccompanied by the names, 
 the domestics of France commonly and exclusively apply 
 them to the heads of families, or those they more imme- 
 diately serve. Thus, it was far more probable that Marie 
 Moulin, meeting a mere general acquaintance in the pris- 
 oner, would have called her " Mademoiselle Marie," or 
 "Mademoiselle Monson," or whatever might be the name 
 by which she had known the young lady, than by the gen- 
 eral and still more respectful appellation of " mademoi- 
 selle." On this peculiarity of deportment Jack Wilmeter 
 
122 THE IV AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 speculated profoundly ; for a young man who is just be- 
 ginning to submit to the passion of love is very apt to 
 fancy a thousand things that he would never dream of see- 
 ing in his cooler moments. Still, John had fancied him- 
 self bound in the spells of another, until this extraordinary 
 client of his uncle's so unexpectedly crossed his path. 
 Such is the human heart. 
 
 Good and kind-hearted Mrs. Gott allowed the prisoner 
 most of the privileges that at all comported with her duty. 
 Increased precautions were taken for the security of the 
 accused, as soon as the presentment of the grand jury was 
 made, by a direct order from the court ; but, these attend- 
 ed to, it was in the power of her whom Timms might have 
 called the " lady sheriff, "to grant a great many indulgences, 
 which were quite cheerfully accorded, and, to all appear- 
 ances, as gratefully accepted. 
 
 John Wilmeter was permitted to pay two regular visits 
 at the grate each day, and as many more as his ingenuity 
 could invent plausible excuses for making. On all ac- 
 casions Mrs. Gott opened the outer door with the greatest 
 good will ; and, like a true woman as she is, she had the 
 tact to keep as far aloof from the barred window where 
 the parties met, as the dimensions of the outer room would 
 allow. Marie Moulin was equally considerate, generally 
 plying her needle at such times, in the depth of the cell, 
 with twice the industry manifested on other occasions. 
 Nevertheless, nothing passed between the young people 
 that called for this delicate reserve. The conversation, it 
 is true, turned as little as possible on the strange and awk- 
 ward predicament of one of the colloquists, or the employ- 
 ment that kept the young man at Biberry. Nor did it 
 turn at all on love. There is a premonitory state in these 
 attacks of the heart, during which skilful observers may 
 discover the symptoms of approaching disease, but which 
 do not yet betray the actual existence of the epidemic. On 
 the part of Jack himself, it is true that these symptoms 
 were getting to be not only somewhat apparent, but they 
 were evidently fast becoming more and more distinct ; 
 while, on the part of the lady, any one disposed to be crit- 
 ical might have seen that her color deepened, and there 
 were signs of daily increasing interest in them, as the 
 hours for these interviews approached. She was interest- 
 ed in her young legal adviser ; and interest, with women ; 
 is the usual precursor of the master-passion. Woe betide 
 the man who cannot interest, but who only amuses ! 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 123 
 
 Although so little to the point was said in the short dia- 
 logues between Wilmeter and Mary Monson, there were 
 dialogues held with the good Mrs. Gott, by each of the 
 parties respectively, in which less reserve was observed ; 
 and the heart was permitted to have more influence over 
 the movements of the tongue. The first of these conver- 
 sations that we deem it necessary to relate, that took place 
 after the presentment, was one that immediately succeeded 
 an interview at the barred window, and which occurred 
 three days subsequently to the consultation in town ; and 
 two after Timms's machinery was actively at work in the 
 county. 
 
 " Well, how do you find her spirits to-day, Mr. Wilming- 
 ton ? " asked Mrs. Gott, kindly, and catching the conven- 
 tional sound of the young man's name, from having heard 
 it so often in the mouth of Michael Millington. " It is an 
 awful state for any human being to be in, and she a young, 
 delicate woman ; to be tried for murder, and for setting 
 fire to a house, and all so soon ! " 
 
 " The most extraordinary part of this very extraordinary 
 business, Mrs. Gott," Jack replied, " is the perfect indif- 
 ference of Miss Monson to her fearful jeopardy ! To me, 
 she seems much more anxious to be closely immured in 
 jail, than to escape from a trial that one would think, of 
 itself, might prove more than so delicate a young lady 
 could bear up against." 
 
 "Very true, Mr. Wilmington ; and she never seems to 
 think of it at all ! You see what she has done, sir ? " 
 
 "Done ! Nothing in particular, I hope ?" 
 
 "I don't know what you call particular; but to me it 
 does seem to be remarkably particular. Didn't you hear 
 a piano, and another musical instrument, as you ap- 
 proached the jail ? " 
 
 " I did, certainly, and wondered who could produce 
 such admirable music in Biberry." 
 
 " Biberry has a great many musical ladies, I can tell you, 
 Mr. Wilmington," returned Mrs. Gott, a little coldly, 
 though her good-nature instantly returned, and shone out 
 in one of her most friendly smiles ; " and those, too, that 
 have been to town and heard all the great performers from 
 Europe, of whom there have been so many of late years. 
 I have heard good judges say that Dukes County is not 
 much behind the island of Manhattan, with the piano in 
 particular." 
 
 " I remember when at Rome to have heard an English' 
 
124 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 man say that some young ladies from Lincolnshire were 
 astonishing the Romans with their Italian accent, in sing- 
 ing Italian operas," answered Jack, smiling. "There is 
 no end, my dear Mrs. Gtt, to provincial perfection in all 
 parts of the world." 
 
 " I believe I understand you, but I am not at all offended 
 at your meaning. We are not very sensitive about the 
 jails. One thing I will admit, however ; Mary Monson's 
 harp is the first, I rather think, that was ever heard in Bi- 
 berry. Gott tells me " this was the familiar manner in 
 which the good woman spoke of the high sheriff of Dukes, 
 as the journals affectedly call that functionary " that he 
 once met some German girls strolling about the country, 
 playing and singing for money, and who had just such an 
 instrument, but not one-half as elegant ; and it has brought 
 to my mind a suspicion that Mary Monson may be one of 
 these travelling musicians." 
 
 " What ? to stroll about the country, and play and sing 
 in the streets of villages ! " 
 
 11 No, not that ; I see well enough she cannot be of that 
 sort. But there are all descriptions of musicians, as well 
 as all descriptions of doctors and lawyers, Mr. Wilmington. 
 Why may not Mary Monson be one of these foreigners 
 who get so rich by singing and playing? She has just as 
 much money as she wants, and spends it freely too. This 
 I know, from seeing the manner in which she uses it. For 
 my part, I wish she had less music and less money just 
 now ; for they are doing her no great good in Biberry ! " 
 
 "Why not ? Can any human being find fault with mel- 
 ody and a liberal spirit ? " 
 
 " Folks will find fault with anything, Mr. Wilmington, 
 when they have nothing better to do. You know how it 
 is with our villagers here, as well as I do. Most people 
 think Mary Monson guilty, and a few do not. Those that 
 think her guilty say it is insolent in her to be singing and 
 playing in the very jail in which she is confined ; and talk 
 loud against her for that very reason." 
 
 "Would they deprive her of a consolation as innocent 
 as that she obtains from her harp and her piano, in addi- 
 tion to her other sufferings ? Your Biberry folks must be 
 particularly hard-hearted, Mrs. Gott." 
 
 " Biberry people are like York people, and American 
 people, and English people, and all other people, I fancy, 
 if the truth was known, Mr. Wilmington. What they don't 
 like they disapprove of, that's all. Now, was I one of 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 125 
 
 them that believe Mary Monson did actually murder the 
 Goodwins, and plunder their drawers, and set fire to their 
 house, it would go ag'in my feelings too, to hear her music, 
 well as she plays, and sweet as she draws out the sounds 
 from those wires. Some of our folks take the introduction 
 of the harp into the jail particularly hard !" 
 
 " Why that instrument more than another ? It was the 
 one on which David played." 
 
 " They say it was David's favorite, and ought only to be 
 struck to religious words and sounds." 
 
 " It is a little surprising that your excessively conscien- 
 tious people so often forget that charity is the chiefest of 
 all the Christian graces." 
 
 "They think that the love of God comes first, and that 
 they ought never to lose sight of his honor and glory. But 
 I agree with you, Mr. Wilmington" ; ' feel for your fellow- 
 creatures ' is my rule ; and I'm certain I am then feeling 
 for my Maker. Yes ; many of the neighbors insist that a 
 harp is unsuited to a jail, and they tell me that the instru- 
 ment on which Mary Monson plays is a real antique." 
 
 " Antique ! What, a harp made in remote ages ? " 
 
 " No, I don't mean that exactly," returned Mrs. Gott, 
 coloring a little; "but a harp made so much like those 
 used by the Psalmist, that one could not tell them 
 apart." 
 
 " I dare say David had many varieties of stringed instru- 
 ments, from the lute up ; but harps are very common, Mrs. 
 Gott so common that we hear them now in the streets, 
 and on board the steam-boats even. There is nothing new 
 in them, even in this country." 
 
 " Yes, sir, in the streets and on board the boats ; but the 
 public will tolerate things done for them, that they won't 
 tolerate in individuals. I suppose you know that, Mr. Wil- 
 mington ? " 
 
 " We soon learn as much in this country but the jails 
 are made for the public, and the harps ought to be privi- 
 leged in them, as well as in other public places." 
 
 " I don't know how it is I'm not very good at reasoning 
 but, somehow or another, the neighbors don't like that 
 Mary Monson should play on the harp or even on the 
 piano, situated as she is. I do wish, Mr. Wilmington, you 
 could give her a hint on the subject." 
 
 "Shall I tell her that the music is unpleasant \.Q you?" 
 
 "As far from that as possible ! I delight in it ; but the 
 neighbors do not. Then she never shows herself at the 
 
126 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 grate to folks outside, like all the other prisoners. The 
 public wants to see and converse with her." 
 
 "You surely could not expect a young and educated 
 female to be making a spectacle of herself, for the gratifi- 
 cation of the eyes of all the vulgar and curious in and about 
 Biberry?" 
 
 " Hush Mr. Wilmington, you are most too young to take 
 care of such a cause. Squire Timms, now, is a man who 
 understands Dukes County, and he would tell you it is not 
 wise to talk of the vulgar hereabouts ; at least, not until 
 the verdict is in. Besides, most people would think that 
 folks have a right to look at a prisoner in the common jail. 
 I know they act as if they thought so." 
 
 " It is hard enough to be accused and confined, without 
 subjecting the party to any additional degradation. No 
 man has a right to ask to look at Miss Monson but those 
 she sees fit to receive, and the officials of the law. It would 
 be an outrage to tolerate mere idle curiosity." 
 
 "Well, if you think so, Mr. Wilmington, do not let every- 
 body know it. Several of the clergy have either been here, 
 or have sent to offer their visits, if acceptable." 
 
 "And what has been the answer?" demanded Jack, a 
 little eagerly. 
 
 " Mary Monson has received all these offers as if she had 
 been a queen politely, but coldly ; once or twice, or when 
 the Methodist and the Baptist came, and they commonly 
 come first, I thought she seemed hurt. Her color went 
 and came like lightning. Now, she was pale as death 
 next, as bright as a rose what a color she has at times, 
 Mr. Wilmington ! Dukes is rather celebrated for rosy 
 faces ; but it would be hard to find her equal when she 'is 
 not thinking." 
 
 " Of what, my good Mrs. Gott ? " 
 
 "Why, most of the neighbors say, of the Goodwins. 
 For my part, as I do not believe she ever hurt a hair of the 
 head of the old man and old woman, I can imagine that 
 she has disagreeable things to think of that are in nowise 
 connected with them." 
 
 "She certainly has disagreeable things to make her 
 cheeks pale that are connected with that unfortunate 
 couple. But, I ought to know all. To what else do the 
 neighbors object ? " 
 
 " To the foreign tongues they think when a grand jury 
 has found a bill, the accused ought to talk nothing but plain 
 English, so that all near her can understand what she says." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 127 
 
 " In a word, it is not thought sufficient to be accused of 
 such a crime as murder, but all other visitations must fol- 
 low, to render the charge as horrible as may be ! " 
 
 " That is not the way they look at it. The public fancies 
 that in a public matter they might have a right to know 
 all about a thing." 
 
 " And when there is a failure in the proof, they imagine, 
 invent, and assert." 
 
 " 'Tis the ways of the land. I suppose all nations have 
 their ways, and follow them." 
 
 " One thing surprises me a little in this matter," Jack 
 rejoined, after musing a moment ; " it is this. In most 
 cases in which women have any connection with the law, 
 the leaning in this country, and more particularly of late, 
 has been in their favor." 
 
 "Well," Mrs. Gott quietly but quickly interrupted, "and 
 ought it not to be so ? " 
 
 " It ought not, unless the merits are with them. Justice 
 is intended to do that which is equitable ; and it is not fair 
 to assume that women are always right, and men always 
 wrong. I know my uncle thinks that not only the decis- 
 ions of late years, but the laws, have lost sight of the 
 wisdom of the past, and are gradually placing the women 
 above the men, making her instead of him the head of the 
 family." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Wilmington, and isn't that quite right?" de- 
 manded Mrs. Gott, with a good-natured nod. 
 
 " My uncle thinks it very wrong, and that by a mistaken 
 gallantry the peace of families is undermined, and their 
 discipline destroyed ; as, in punishment, by a false phil- 
 anthropy, rogues are petted at the expense of honest 
 folks. Such are the opinions of Mr. Thomas Dunscomb, 
 at least." 
 
 " Ay, Mr. Thomas Dunscomb is an old bachelor ; and 
 bachelors' wives, and bachelors' children, as we well know, 
 are always admirably managed. It is a pity they are not 
 more numerous," retorted the indomitably good-humored 
 wife of the sheriff, ** But, you see that, in this case of 
 Mary Monson, the feeling is against, rather than in favor 
 of a woman. That may be owing to the fact that one of 
 the persons murdered was a lady also." 
 
 " Doctor McBrain says that both were females or lady- 
 murdered as I suppose we must call them ; as doubtless 
 you have heard, Mrs. Gott. Perhaps he is believed, and 
 the fact may make doubly against the accused." 
 
128 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. . 
 
 " He is not believed. Everybody hereabouts knows that 
 one of the skeletons was that of Peter Goodwin. They say 
 that the district attorney means to show that, beyond all 
 dispute. They tell me that it is a law, in a case of this 
 sort, first to show there has been a murder ; second, to 
 show who did it." 
 
 "This is something like the course of proceeding, I be- 
 lieve ; though I never sat on a trial for this offence. It is 
 of no great moment what the district attorney does, so 
 that he do not prove that Miss Monson is guilty ; and this, 
 my kind-hearted Mrs. Gott, you and I do not believe he 
 can do." 
 
 "In that we are agreed, sir. I no more think that 
 Mary Monson did these things, than I think I did them 
 myself." 
 
 Jack expressed his thanks in a most grateful look, and 
 there the interview terminated. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed ; 
 
 In war he mounts the warrior's steed ; 
 
 In halls, in gay attire is seen ; 
 
 In hamlets, dances on the green. 
 
 Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
 
 And men below, and saints above ; 
 
 For love is heaven, and heaven is love. SCOTT. 
 
 " IT is the ways of the land," said good Mrs. Gott, in one 
 of her remarks in the conversation just related. Other 
 usages prevail, in connection with other interests ; and the 
 time is come when we must refer to one of them. In a 
 word, Dr. McBrain and Mrs. Updyke were about to be 
 united in the bands of matrimony. As yet we have said 
 very little of the intended bride ; but the incidents of our 
 tale render it now necessary to bring her more prominent- 
 ly on the stage, and to give some account of herself and 
 family. 
 
 Anna Wade was the only child of very respectable and 
 somewhat affluent parents. At nineteen she married a 
 lawyer of suitable years, and became Mrs. Updyke. This 
 union lasted but eight years, when the wife was left a 
 widow with two children ; a son and a daughter. In the 
 course of time these children grew up, the mother devot- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 129 
 
 ing herself to their care, education and well-being. In all 
 this there was nothing remarkable, widowed mothers doing 
 as much daily, with a self-devotion that allies them to the 
 angels. Frank Updyke, the son, had finished his educa- 
 tion, and was daily expected to arrive from a tour of three 
 years in Europe. Anna, her mother's namesake, was at 
 the sweet age of nineteen, and the very counterpart of 
 what the elder Anna had been at the same period in life. 
 The intended bride was far from being unattractive, though 
 fully five-and-forty. In the eyes of Dr. McBrain, she was 
 even charming ; although she did not exactly answer those 
 celebrated conditions of female influence that have been 
 handed down to us in the familiar toast of a voluptuous 
 English prince. Though forty, Mrs. Updyke was neither 
 " fat " nor " fair ; " being a brunette of a well-preserved 
 and still agreeable person. 
 
 It was perhaps a little singular, after having escaped the 
 temptations of a widowhood of twenty years, that this lady 
 should think of marrying at a time of life when most fe- 
 males abandon the expectation of changing their condition. 
 But Mrs. Updyke was a person of a very warm heart ; and 
 she foresaw the day when she was to be left alone in the 
 world. Her son was much inclined to be a rover and, in 
 his letters, he talked of still longer journeys, and of more 
 protracted absences from home. He inherited an indepen- 
 dency from his father, and had now been his own master 
 for several years. Anna was much courted by the circle 
 to which she belonged ; and young, affluent, pretty to the 
 very verge of beauty, gentle, quiet, and singularly warm- 
 hearted, it was scarcely within the bounds of possibility 
 that she could escape an early marriage in a state of so- 
 ciety like that of Manhattan. These were the reasons 
 Mrs. Updyke gave to her female confidantes, when she 
 deemed it well to explain the motives of her present pur- 
 pose. Without intending to deceive, there was not a word 
 of truth in these explanations. In point of fact, Mrs. Up- 
 dyke, well as she had loved the husband of her youth, 
 preserved les beaux restes of a very warm and affectionate 
 heart; and McBrain, a well-preserved, good-looking man, 
 about a dozen years older than herself, had found the 
 means to awaken its sympathies to such a degree, as once 
 more to place the comely widow completely within the 
 category of Cupid. It is very possible for a woman of 
 forty to love, and to love with all her heart : though the 
 world seldom takes as much interest in her weakness, if 
 
1 3 o THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 weakness it is, as in those of younger and fairer subjects 
 of the passion. To own the truth, Mrs. Updyke was pro- 
 foundly in love, while her betrothed met her inclination 
 with an answering sympathy that, to say the least, was 
 fully equal to any tender sentiment he had succeeded in 
 awakening. 
 
 All this was to Tom Dunscomb what he called " nuts." 
 Three times had he seen his old friend in this pleasant 
 state of feeling, and three times was he chosen to be an 
 attendant at the altar : once in the recognized character of 
 a groomsman, and on the other two occasions in that of a 
 chosen friend. Whether the lawyer had himself completely 
 escaped the darts of the little god, no one could say, so 
 completely had he succeeded in veiling this portion of his 
 life from observation ; but, whether he had or not, he made 
 those who did submit to the passion the theme of his un- 
 tiring merriment. 
 
 Children usually regard these tardy inclinations of their 
 parents with surprise, if not with downright distaste. Some 
 little surprise the pretty Anna Updyke may have felt, when 
 she was told by a venerable great-aunt that her mother 
 was about to be married ; but of distaste there was none. 
 She had a strong regard for her new step-father, that, was 
 to be ; and thought it the most natural thing in the world 
 to love. Sooth, to say, Anna Updyke had not been out 
 two years the American girls are brought out so young! 
 without having sundry suitors. Manhattan is the easiest 
 place in the world for a pretty girl, with a good fortune, 
 to get offers. Pretty girls with good fortunes are usually 
 in request everywhere ; but it requires the precise state 
 of society that exists in the " Great Commercial Emporium," 
 to give a young woman the highest chance in the old lot- 
 tery. There where one-half of the world came from other 
 worlds some half a dozen years since ; where a good old 
 Manhattan name is regarded as upstart among a crowd 
 that scarcely knows whence it was itself derived, and 
 whither it is destined, and where few have any real posi- 
 tion in society, and fewer still know what the true meaning 
 of the term is, money and beauty are the constant objects 
 of pursuit. Anna Updyke formed no exception. She had 
 declined, in the gentlest manner possible, no less than six 
 direct offers, coming from those who were determined to 
 lose nothing by diffidence ; had thrown cold water on more 
 than twice that number of little flames that were just be- 
 ginning to burn ; and had thrown into the fire some fifteen 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 13 V 
 
 or sixteen anonymous effusions, in prose and verse, that 
 came from adventurers who could admire from a distance, 
 at the opera and in the streets, but who had no present 
 means of getting any nearer than these indirect attempts 
 at communication. We say "thrown into the fire; "for 
 Anna was too prudent, and had too much self-respect, to 
 retain such documents, coming as they did, from so many 
 "Little Unknowns." The anonymous effusions were con- 
 sequently burnt with one exception. The exception was 
 in the case of a sonnet, in which her hair and very beauti- 
 ful it is was the theme. From some of the little freemason- 
 ry of the intercourse of the sexes, Anna fancied these lines 
 had been written by Jack Wilmeter, one of the most constant 
 of her visitors, as well as one of her admitted favorites. Be- 
 tween Jack and Anna there had been divers passages of gal- 
 lantry, which had been very kindly viewed by McBrain and 
 the mother. The parties themselves did not understand 
 their own feelings ; formatters had not gone far, when Mary 
 Monson so strangely appeared on the stage, and drew 
 Jack off, on the trail of wonder and mystery, if not on 
 that of real passion. As Sarah Wilmeter was the most 
 intimate friend of Anna Updyke, it is not extraordinary 
 that this singular fancy of the brother's should be the sub- 
 ject of conversation between the two young women, each 
 of whom probably felt more interest in his movements 
 than any other persons on earth. The dialogue we are 
 about to relate took place in Anna's own room, the morn- 
 ing of the day which preceded that of the wedding, and 
 followed naturally enough, as the sequence of certain 
 remarks which had been made on the approaching event. 
 
 "If my mother were living, and must be married," said 
 Sarah Wilmeter, " I should be very well content to have 
 such a man as Doctor McBrain for a step-father. I have 
 known him all my life, and he is, and ever has been, so 
 intimate with Uncle Tom, that I almost think him a near 
 relation." 
 
 "And I have known him as long as I can remember," 
 Anna steadily rejoined, " and have not only a great respect, 
 but a warm regard for him. Should I ever marry myself, 
 I do not believe I shall have one-half the attachment for 
 my father-in-law as I am sure I shall feel for my step- 
 father." 
 
 " How do you know there will be any father-in-law in 
 the case ? I am sure John has no parent." 
 
 " John ! " returned Anna, faintly " What is John to me ? ' 
 
132 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Thank you, my dear he is something, at least to me? 
 
 "To be sure a brother naturally is but Jack is no 
 brother of mine, you will please to remember." 
 
 Sarah cast a quick, inquiring look at her friend ; but 
 the eyes of Anna were thrown downward on the carpet, 
 while the Woom on her cheeks spread to her temples. 
 Her friend saw that, in truth, Jack was no brother of hers. 
 
 11 What I mean is this " continued Sarah, following a 
 thread that ran through her own mind, rather than any- 
 thing that had been already expressed " Jack is making 
 himself a very silly fellow just now." 
 
 Anna now raised her eyes ; her lip quivered a little, 
 and the bloom deserted even her cheek. Still, she made 
 no reply. Women can listen acutely at such moments ; 
 but it commonly exceeds their powers to speak. The 
 friends understood each other, as Sarah well knew, and 
 she continued her remarks precisely as if the other had 
 answered them. 
 
 " Michael Millington brings strange accounts of Jack's 
 behavior at Biberry ! He says that he seems to do noth- 
 ing, think of nothing, talk of nothing, but of the hardship 
 of this Mary Monson's case." 
 
 " I'm sure it is cruel enough to awaken the pity of a 
 rock," said Anna Updyke, in a low tone ; "a woman, and 
 she a lady, accused of such terrible crimes murder and 
 arson ! " 
 
 "What is arson, child ? and how do you know anything 
 about it ? " 
 
 Again Anna colored, her feelings being all sensitiveness 
 on this subject ; which had caused her far more pain than 
 she had experienced from any other event in her brief life. 
 It was, however, necessary to answer. 
 
 " Arson is setting fire to an inhabited house," she said, 
 after a moment's reflection ; " and I know it from having 
 been told its signification by Mr. Dunscomb." 
 
 " Did Uncle Tom say anything of this Mary Monson, 
 and of Jack's singular behavior ? " 
 
 " He spoke of his client as a very extraordinary person, 
 and of her accomplishments, and readiness, and beauty. 
 Altogether, he does not seem to know what to make of her." 
 
 "And what did he say about Jack ? You need have no 
 reserve with me, Anna ; I am his sister." 
 
 " I know that very well, dear Sarah but Jack's name 
 was not mentioned, I believe certainly not at the parties 
 lar time, and in the conversation to which I now refer." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 133 
 
 " But at some other time, my dear, and in some other con- 
 versation." 
 
 " He did once say something about your brother's being 
 very attentive to the interests of the person he calls his 
 Dukes County client nothing more, I do assure you. It 
 is the duty of young lawyers to be very attentive to the 
 interests of their clients, I should think." 
 
 " Assuredly and that most especially when the client is 
 a young lady with a pocket full of money. But Jack 
 is above want, and can afford to act right at all times and 
 on all occasions. I wish he had never seen this strange 
 creature." 
 
 Anna Updyke sat silent for some little time, playing with 
 the hem of her pocket-handkerchief. Then she said tinv 
 idly, speaking as if she wished an answer, even while she 
 dreaded it 
 
 " Does not Marie Moulin know something about her ?" 
 
 " A great deal, if she would only tell it. But Marie, too, 
 has gone over to the enemy, since she has seen this siren. 
 Not a word can I get out of her, though I have written 
 three letters, beyond the fact that she knows Mademoiselle, 
 and that she cannot believe her guilty." 
 
 " The last, surely, is very important. If really innocent, 
 how hard has been the treatment she has received ! It is 
 not surprising that your brother feels so deep an interest 
 in her. He is very warm-hearted and generous, Sarah ; 
 and it is just like him to devote his time and talents to the 
 service of the oppressed." 
 
 It was Sarah's turn to be silent and thoughtful. She 
 made no answer, for she well understood that an impulse 
 very different from that mentioned by her friend was, just 
 then, influencing her brother's conduct. 
 
 We have related this conversation as the briefest mode 
 of making the reader acquainted with the true state of 
 things in and about the neat dwelling o! Mrs. Updyke in 
 Eighth Street. Much, however, remains to be told ; as the 
 morning of the very day which succeeded that on which 
 the foregoing dialogue was held, was the one named for 
 the wedding of the mistress of the house. 
 
 At the very early hour of six", the party met at the church 
 door, one of the most Gothic structures in the new quarter 
 of the town ; and five minutes sufficed to make the two 
 one. Anna sobbed as she saw her mother passing away 
 from her, as it then appeared to her, and the bride herself 
 was a little overcome, As for McBrain, as his friend Duns- 
 
134 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 comb expressed it, in a description given to a brother 
 bachelor, who met him at dinner : 
 
 " He stood the fire like a veteran ! You're not going to 
 frighten a fellow who has held forth the ring three times. 
 You will remember that Ned has previously killed two 
 wivQS, besides all the other folk he has slain ; and I make 
 no doubt the fellow's confidence was a good deal increased 
 by the knowledge he possesses that none of us are im- 
 mortal as husbands and wives, at least." 
 
 But Tom Dunscomb's pleasantries had no influence on 
 his friend's happiness. Odd as it may appear to some, this 
 connection was one of a warm and very sincere attachment. 
 Neither of the parties had reached the period of life when 
 nature begins to yield to the pressure of time, and there 
 was the reasonable prospect before them of their contrib- 
 uting largely to each other's future happiness. The bride 
 was dressed with great simplicity, but with a proper care ; 
 and she really justified the passion that McBrain insisted, 
 in his conversation with Dunscomb, that he felt for her. 
 Youthful, for her time of life, modest in demeanor and 
 aspect, still attractive in person, the " Widow Updyke " 
 became Mrs. McBrain, with as charming an air of woman- 
 ly feeling as might have been exhibited by one of less than 
 half her age. Covered with blushes, she was handed by 
 the bridegroom into his own carriage, which stood at the 
 church door, and the two proceeded to Timbully. 
 
 As for Anna Updyke, she went to pass a week in the 
 country with Sarah Dunscomb ; even a daughter being a 
 little de trop, in a honey-moon. Rattletrap was the singu- 
 lar name Tom Dunscomb had given to his country-house. 
 It was a small villa-like residence, on the banks of the 
 Hudson, and within the Island of Manhattan. Concealed 
 in a wood, it was a famous place for a bachelor to hide his 
 oddities in. Here Dunscomb concentrated all his out-of- 
 the-way purchases, including plows that were never used, 
 all sorts of farming utensils that were condemned to the 
 same idleness, and such contrivances in the arts of fishing 
 and shooting as struck his fancy ; though the lawyer never 
 handled a rod or levelled a fowling-piece. But Tom Duns- 
 comb, though he professed to despise love, had fancies of 
 his own. It gave him a certain degree of pleasure to seem 
 to have these several tastes ; and he threw away a good 
 deai of money in purchasing these characteristic orna- 
 ments for Rattletrap. When Jack Wilmeter ventured one 
 day to ask his uncle what pleasure he could find in collect- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 135 
 
 ing so many costly and perfectly useless articles, imple- 
 ments that had not the smallest apparent connection with 
 his ordinary pursuits and profession, he got the following 
 answer : 
 
 "You are wrong, Jack, in supposing that these traps are 
 useless. A lawyer has occasion for a vast deal of knowl- 
 edge that he will never got out of his books. One should 
 have the elements of all the sciences, and of most of the 
 arts, in his mind, to make a thoroughly good advocate ; for 
 their application will become neccessary on a thousand 
 occasions, when Blackstone and Kent can be of no service. 
 No, no ; I prize my profession highly, and look upon Rat- 
 tletrap as my Inn of Court." 
 
 Jack Wilmeter had come over from Biberry to attend 
 the wedding, and had now accompanied the party into the 
 country, as it was called ; though the place of Dunscomb 
 was so near town that it was not difficult, when the wind 
 was at the southward, to hear the fire-bell on the City 
 Hall. The meeting between John Wilmeter and Anna 
 Updyke had been fortunately a little relieved by the pecul- 
 iar circumstances in which the latter was placed. The 
 feeling she betrayed, the pallor of her cheek, and the ner- 
 vousness of her deportment, might all, naturally enough, 
 be imputed to the emotions of a daughter, who saw her 
 own mother standing at the altar, by the side of one who 
 was not her natural father. Let this be as it might, Anna 
 had the advantage of the inferences which those around 
 her made on these facts. The young people met first in 
 the church, where there was no opportunity for any ex- 
 change of language or looks. Sarah took her friend away 
 with her alone, on the road to Rattletrap, immediately 
 after the ceremony, in order to allow Anna's spirits and 
 manner to become composed, without being subjected to 
 unpleasant observation. Dunscomb and his nephew drove 
 out in a light vehicle of the latter's ; and Michael Milling- 
 ton appeared later at the villa, bringing with him to dinner, 
 Timms, who came on business connected with the ap- 
 proaching trial. 
 
 There never had been any love-making, in the direct 
 meaning of the term, between John Wilmeter and Anna 
 Updyke. They had known each other so long and so inti- 
 mately, that both regarded the feeling of kindness that each 
 knew subsisted, as a mere fraternal sort of affection. " Jack 
 is Sarah's brother," thought Anna, when she permitted 
 herself to reason on the subject at all ; "and it is natural 
 
136 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 that I should have more friendship for him than for any 
 other young man." " Anna is Sarah's most intimate friend," 
 thought Jack, " and that is the long and short of my at- 
 tachment for her. Take away Sarah, and Anna would be 
 nothing to me ; though she is so pretty, and clever, and 
 gentle, and lady-like. I must like those Sarah likes, or it 
 might make us both unhappy." This was the reasoning of 
 nineteen, and when Anna Updyke was just budding into 
 young womanhood ; at a later day, habit had got to be so 
 much in the ascendant, that neither of the young people 
 thought much on the subject at all. The preference was 
 strong in each so strong, indeed, as to hover over the con- 
 fines of passion, and quite near to its vortex ; though the 
 long-accustomed feeling prevented either from entering 
 into its analysis. The attachments that grow up with our 
 daily associations, and get to be so interwoven with our 
 most familiar thoughts, seldom carry away those who sub- 
 mit to them, in the whirlwind of passion ; which are much 
 more apt to attend sudden and impulsive love. Cases do 
 certainly occur in which the parties have long known each 
 other, and have lived on for years in a dull appreciation of 
 mutual merit sometimes with prejudices and alienation 
 active between them ; when suddenly all is changed, and 
 the scene that was lately so tranquil and tame becomes 
 tumultuous and glowing, and life assumes a new charm, as 
 the profound emotions of passion chase away its dulness ; 
 substituting hope, and fears, and lively wishes, and soul- 
 felt impressions in its stead. This is not usual in the course 
 of the most wayward of all our impulses ; but it does oc- 
 casionally happen, brightening existence with a glow that 
 might well be termed divine, were the colors bestowed 
 derived from a love of the Creator, in lieu of that of one 
 of his creatures. In these sudden awakenings of dormant 
 feelings, some chord of mutual sympathy, some deep-rooted 
 affinity is aroused, carrying away their possessors in a tor- 
 rent of the feelings. Occasionally, wherever the affinity is 
 active, the impulse natural and strongly sympathetic, these 
 sudden and seemingly wayward attachments are the most 
 indelible, coloring the whole of the remainder of life ; but 
 oftener do they take the character of mere impulse, rather 
 than that of deeper sentiment, and disappear, as they were 
 first seen, in some sudden glow of the horizon of the affec- 
 tions. 
 
 In this brief analysis of some of the workings of the 
 heart, we may find a clew to the actual frame of mind in 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 137 
 
 wliicli John Wilmeter returned from Biberry, where he had 
 now been, like a sentinel on post, for several weeks, in 
 vigilant watchfulness over the interests of Mary Monson. 
 During all that time, however, he had not once been ad- 
 mitted within the legal limits of the prison ; holding his 
 brief, but rather numerous conferences with his client, at 
 the little grate in the massive door that separated the jail 
 from the dwelling of the sheriff. Kind-hearted Mrs. Gott 
 would have admitted him to the gallery, whenever he chose 
 to ask that favor ; but this act of courtesy had been for- 
 bidden by Mary Monson herself. Timms she did receive, 
 and she conferred with him in private on more than one 
 occasion, manifesting great earnestness in the consultations 
 that preceded the approaching trial. But John "Wilmeter 
 she would receive only at the grate, like a nun in a well- 
 regulated convent. Even this coyness contributed to feed 
 the fire that had been so suddenly lighted in the young 
 man's heart, on which the strangeness of the prisoner's 
 situation, her personal attractions, her manners, and all the 
 other known peculiarities of person, history, education and 
 deportment, had united to produce a most lively impres- 
 sion, however fleeting it was to prove in the end. 
 
 Had there been any direct communications on the sub- 
 ject of the attachment that had so long, so slowly, but so 
 surely been taking roots in the hearts of John and Anna, 
 any reciprocity in open confidence, this unlooked-for im- 
 pulse in a new direction could not have overtaken the 
 young man. He did not know how profound was the in- 
 terest that Anna took in him; nor, for that matter, was she 
 aware of it herself, until Michael Millington brought the 
 unpleasant tidings of the manner in which his friend seemed 
 to be entranced with his uncle ; s client at Biberry. Then in- 
 deed, Anna was made to feel that surest attendant of the live- 
 liest love, a pang of jealousy; and for the first time in her 
 young and innocent life she became aware of the real nature 
 of her sentiments in behalf of John Wilmeter. On the other 
 hand, drawn aside from the ordinary course of his affections 
 by sudden, impulsive and exciting novelties, John was fast 
 submitting to the influence of the charms of the fair stran- 
 ger, as more than once intimated in our opening pages, as tha 
 newly -fallen snow melts under the raj^s of a noonday sun. 
 
 Such, then, was the state of matters in this little circk-, 
 when the wedding took placo, and John Wilmeter joined 
 the family party. Although Dunscomb did all he could to 
 
138 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 make the dinner gay, Rattletrap had seldom entertained a 
 more silent company than that which sat down at its little 
 round table on this occasion. John thought of Biberry 
 and Mary Monson ; Sarah's imagination was quite busy in 
 wondering why Michael Millington stayed away so long ; 
 and Anna was on the point of bursting into tears half a 
 dozen times, under the depression produced by the joint 
 events of her mother's marriage, and John Wilmeter's ob- 
 vious change of deportment toward her. 
 
 " What the deuce has kept Michael Millington and that 
 fellow Timms from joining us at dinner?" said the master 
 of the house, as the fruit was placed upon the table ; and, 
 closing one eye, he looked with the other through the ruby 
 rays of a glass of well-cooled Madeira his favorite wine. 
 " Both promised to be punctual ; yet here are they both 
 sadly out of time. They knew the dinner was to come off 
 at four." 
 
 "As is one, so are both," answered John. "You will 
 remember they were to come together ? " 
 
 " True and Millington is rather a punctual man es- 
 pecially in visiting at Rattletrap " here Sarah blushed a 
 little ; but the engagement in her case being announced, 
 there was no occasion for any particular confusion. " We 
 shall have to take Michael with us into Dukes next week, 
 Miss Wilmeter ; the case being too grave to neglect bring- 
 ing up all our forces." 
 
 " Is Jack, too, to take a part in the trial, Uncle Tom ? " 
 demanded the niece, with a little interest in the answer. 
 
 " Jack, too everybody, in short. When the life of a fine 
 young woman is concerned, it behooves her counsel to be 
 active and diligent. I have never before had a cause into 
 which my feelings have so completely entered no, never." 
 
 " Do not counsel always enter, heart and hand, into their 
 clients' interests, and make themselves, as it might be, as 
 you gentlemen of the bar sometimes term these things, a 
 * part and parcel ' of their concerns ? " 
 
 This question was put by Sarah, but it caused Anna to 
 raise her eyes from the fruit she was pretending to eat, 
 and to listen intently to the reply. Perhaps she fancied 
 that the answer might explain the absorbed manner in 
 which John had engaged in the service of the accused. 
 
 " As far from it as possible, in many cases," returned the 
 uncle ; " though there certainly are others in which one 
 engages with all his feelings. But every day lessens my 
 interest in the law, and all that belongs to it." 
 
* THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 139 
 
 " Why should that be so. sir ? I have heard you called 
 a devotee of the profession." 
 
 u That's because I have no wife. Let a man live a bache- 
 lor, and ten to one he gets some nickname or other. On 
 the other hand, let him marry two or three times, like Ned 
 McBrain beg your pardon, Nanny, for speaking disre- 
 spectfully of your papa but let a fellow just get his third 
 wife, and they tack 'family' to his appellation at once. 
 He's an excellent family lawyer, or a capital family physi- 
 cian, or a supremely pious no, I don't know that they've 
 got so far as the parsons, for they are all family fellows." 
 
 " You have a spite against matrimony, Uncle Tom." 
 
 " Well, if I have, it stops with me, as a family ^com plaint. 
 You are free from it, my dear ; and I'm half inclined to 
 think Jack will marry before he is a year older. But here 
 are the tardies at last." 
 
 Although the uncle made no allusion to the person his 
 nephew was to marry, everybody but himself thought of 
 Mary Monson at once. Anna turned pale as death ; Sarah 
 looked thoughtful, and even sad ; and John became as red 
 as scarlet. But the entrance of Michael Millington and 
 Timms caused the conversation to turn on another subject, 
 as a matter of course. 
 
 "We expected you to dinner, gentlemen," Dunscomb 
 dryly remarked, as he pushed the bottle to his guests. 
 
 " Business before eating is my maxim, Squire Duns- 
 comb," Timms replied. " Mr. Millington and I have been 
 very busy in the office, from the moment Doctor McBrain 
 and his lady " 
 
 " Wife say * wife,' Timms, if you please. Or ' Mrs. 
 McBrain,' if you like that better." 
 
 " Well, sir, I used the word I did out of compliment to 
 the other ladies present. They love to be honored and 
 signalized in our language, when we speak of them, sir, I 
 believe." 
 
 " Poh ! poh ! Timms ; take my advice, and let all these 
 small matters alone. It takes a life to master them, and 
 one must begin from the cradle. When all is ended, they 
 are scarce worth the trouble they give. Speak good, plain, 
 direct, and manly English, I have always told you, and 
 you'll get along well enough, but make no attempts to be 
 fine. ' Doctor McBrain and lady' is next thing to 'going 
 through Hurlgate ' or meeting a * lady friend.' You'll 
 never get the right sort of a wife until you drop all such 
 absurdities." 
 
HO THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. ' 
 
 "I'll tell you how it is, squire: so far as law goes, or 
 even morals, and I don't know but I may say general gov- 
 ernment politics, I look upon you as the best adviser I can 
 consult. But when it comes to matrimony, I can't see 
 how you should know any more about it than I do myself, 
 I do intend to get married one of these days, which is 
 more, I fancy, than you ever had in view." 
 
 " No ; my great concern has been to escape matrimony ; 
 but a man may get a very tolerable notion of the sex while 
 manoeuvring among them, with that intention. I am not 
 certain that he who has had two or three handsomely man- 
 aged escapes, doesn't learn as much as he who has had two 
 or three wives I mean of useful information. What do 
 you think of all this, Millington ? " 
 
 "That I wish for no escapes, when my choice has been 
 free and fortunate." 
 
 " And you, Jack ? " 
 
 " Sir ! " answered the nephew, starting as if aroused 
 from a brown study. " Did you speak to me, Uncle Tom?" 
 
 *' Jife'll not be of much use to us next week, Timms," 
 said the counsellor, coolly, filling his own and his neigh- 
 bor's glass as he spoke, with iced Madeira " These capital 
 cases demand the utmost vigilance ; more especially when 
 popular prejudice sets in against them." 
 
 "Should the jury find Mary Monson to be guilty, what 
 would be the sentence of the court?" demanded Sarah, 
 smiling, even while she seemed much interested " I be- 
 lieve that is right, Mike the court ' sentences,' and the 
 jury 'convicts.' If there be any mistake, you must answer 
 for it." v 
 
 " I am afraid to speak of laws, or constitutions, in the 
 presence of your uncle, since the rebuke Jack and I got 
 in that affair of the toast," returned Sarah's betrothed, arch- 
 ing his eyebrows. 
 
 " By the way, Jack, did that dinner ever come off ? " de- 
 manded the uncle, suddenly ; " I looked for your toasts in 
 the journals, but do not remember ever to have seen 
 them." 
 
 " You could not have seen any of mine, sir ; for I went 
 to Biberry that very morning, and only left there last even- 
 ing " Anna's countenance resembled a lily, just as it be- 
 gins to droop " I believe, however, the whole affair fell 
 through, as no one seems to know, just now, who are and 
 who are not the friends of liberty. It is the people to- 
 day ; some prince to-morrow ; the Pope next day ; and, 
 
THE WATS OF THE HOUR. 1 4 1 
 
 by the end of the week, we may have a Masaniello or \\ 
 Robespierre uppermost. The times seem sadly out of 
 joint just now, and the world is fast getting to be upside- 
 down." 
 
 " It's all owing to this infernal Code, Timms, which is 
 enough to revolutionize human nature itself ! " cried Duns- 
 comb, with an animation that produced a laugh in the 
 young folk (Anna excepted), and a simper in the person 
 addressed. " Ever since this thing has come into opera- 
 tion among us, I never know when a case is to be heard, 
 the decision had, or the principles that are to come upper- 
 most. Well, we must try and get some good out of it, if 
 we can, in this capital case." 
 
 "Which is drawing very near, squire ; and I have some 
 facts to communicate in that affair which it may be well 
 to compare with the law, without much more delay." 
 
 " Let us finish this bottle if the boys help us, it will 
 not be much more than a glass apiece." 
 
 " I don't think the squire will ever be upheld at the polls 
 by the temperance people," said Timms, filling his glass 
 to the brim ; for, to own the truth, it was seldom that he 
 got such wine. 
 
 " A.syou are expecting to be held up by them, my fine 
 fellow. I've heard of your management, Master Timms, 
 and am told you aspire as high as the State Senate. Well ; 
 there is room for better, but much worse men have been 
 sent there. Now let us go to what I call the * Rattletrap 
 office.' " 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, 
 And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, 
 Neigh bor'd by fruit of baser quality. King Henry V. 
 
 THERE stood a very pretty pavilion in one of the groves 
 of Rattletrap, overhanging the water, with the rock of the 
 river-shore for its foundation. It had two small apart- 
 ments, in one of which Dunscomb had caused a bookcase, 
 a table, a rocking-chair, and a lounge to be placed. The 
 other was furnished more like an ordinary summer-house, 
 and was at all times accessible to the inmates of the family. 
 The sanctum, or office, was kept locked ; and here its 
 owner often brought his papers, and passed whp'e days, 
 
142 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 during the warm months, when it is the usage to be out of 
 town, in preparing his cases. To this spot, then, the coun- 
 sellor now held his w r ay, attended by Timms, having or- 
 dered a servant to bring a light and some cigars ; smoking 
 being one of the regular occupations of the office. In a 
 few minutes, each of the two men of the law had a cigar 
 in his mouth, and was seated at a little window that com- 
 manded a fine view of the Hudson, its fleet of sloops, 
 steamers, tow-boats, and colliers, and its high, rocky west- 
 ern shore, which has obtained the not inappropriate name 
 of the Palisades. 
 
 The cigars, the glass, and the pleasant scenery, teeming 
 as was the last with movement and life, appeared, for the 
 moment, to drive from the minds of the two men of the 
 law the business on which they had met. It was a proof 
 of the effect of habit that a person like Dunscomb, who 
 was really a good man, and one who loved his fellow- 
 creatures, could just then forget that a human life was, in 
 some measure, dependent on the decisions of this very in- 
 terview, and permit his thoughts to wander from so im- 
 portant an interest. So it was, however ; and the first 
 topic that arose in this consultation had no reference what- 
 ever to Mary Monson or her approaching trial, though it 
 soon led the colloquists round to her situation, as it might 
 be, without their intending it. 
 
 " This is a charming retreat, Squire Dunscomb," com- 
 menced Timms, settling himself with some method in a 
 very commodious arm-chair ; " and one that I should often 
 frequent, did I own it." 
 
 " I hope you will live to be master of one quite as pleas- 
 ant, Timms, some time or other. They tell me your prac- 
 tice now is one of the best in Dukes ; some two or three 
 thousand a year, I dare say, if the truth were known." 
 
 " It's as good as anybody's on our circuit, unless you 
 count the bigwigs from York. I won't name the sum, 
 even to as old a friend as yourself, squire ; for the man 
 who lets the world peep into his purse, will soon find it 
 footing him up, like a sum in arithmetic. You've gentle- 
 men in town, however, who sometimes get more for a sin- 
 gle case, than I can 'arn in a twelvemonth." 
 
 "Still, considering your beginning, and late appearance 
 at the bar, Timms, you are doing pretty well. Do you 
 lead in many trials at the circuit ? " 
 
 "That depends pretty much on age, you know, squire. 
 Gen'rally older lawyers are put into all my causes ; but I 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 143 
 
 have carried one or two through on my own shoulders, 
 and that by main strength too." 
 
 " It must have been by your facts, rather than by your 
 law. The verdicts turned altogether on testimony, did 
 they not ? " 
 
 " Pretty much and that's the sort of a case / like. A 
 man can prepare his evidence beforehand, and make some 
 calculations where it will land him ; but, as for the law, I 
 do not see that studying it as hard as I will, makes me 
 much the wiser. A case is no sooner settled one way by 
 a judge in New York, than it is settled in another, in Penn- 
 sylvany or Virginny." 
 
 " And that, too, when courts were identical and had a 
 character! Now, we have eight Supreme Courts, and 
 they are beginning to settle the law in eight different ways. 
 Have you studied the Code pretty closely, Timms ?" 
 
 " Not I, sir. They tell me things will come round under 
 it in time, and I try to be patient. There's one thing 
 about it that I do like. It has taken all the Latin out of 
 the law, which is a great help to us poor scholars." 
 
 " It has that advantage, I confess ; and before it is done, 
 it will take all the law out of the Latin. They tell me it 
 was proposed to call the old process of ' ne exeat ' a writ of 
 * no go.' " 
 
 " Well, to my mind, the last would be the best term of 
 the two." 
 
 "Ay, to your mind, it might, Timms. How do you like 
 the fee-bills, and the new mode of obtaining your compen- 
 sation ?" 
 
 " Capital ! The more they change them matters, the 
 deeper we'll dig into 'em, squire ! I never knew reform 
 help the great body of the community all it favors is in- 
 dividuals." 
 
 " There is more truth in that, Timms, than you are 
 probably aware of yourself. Reform, fully half the time, 
 does no more than shift the pack-saddle from one set of 
 shoulders to another. Nor do I believe much is gained 
 be endeavoring to make law cheap. It were better for 
 the community that it should be dear ; though cases do 
 occur in which its charges might amount to a denial of 
 justice. It is to be regretted that the world oftener de- 
 cides under the influence of exceptions, rather than under 
 that of the rule. Besides, it is no easy matter to check the 
 gains of a thousand or two of hungry attorneys." 
 
 " There you're right, squire, if you never hit the nail on 
 
144 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 the head before. But the new scheme is working well for 
 us, and, in one sense, it may work well for the people. 
 The compensation is the first thing thought of now ; and 
 when that is the case, the client stops to think. It isn't 
 every person that holds as large and as open a purse as 
 our lady at Biberry ! " 
 
 " Ay, she continues to fee you, does she, Timms ? Pray, 
 how much has she given you, altogether ? " 
 
 " Not enough to build a new \ving to the Astor Library, 
 nor to set up a parson in a Gothic temple ; still, enough to 
 engage me, heart and hand, in her service. First and last, 
 my receipts have been a thousand dollars, besides money 
 for the outlays." 
 
 "Which have amounted to 
 
 " More than as much more. This is a matter of life and 
 death, you know, sir ; and prices rise accordingly. All I 
 have received has been handed to me either in gold or 
 in good current paper. The first troubled me a good deal, 
 for I was not certain some more pieces might not be recog- 
 nized, though they were all eagles and half-eagles." 
 
 " Has any such recognition occurred ?" demanded Duns- 
 comb, with interest. 
 
 " To be frank with you, Squire Dunscomb, I sent the 
 money to town at once, and set it afloat in the great cur- 
 rent in Wall Street, where it could do neither good nor 
 harm on the trial. It would have been very green in me to 
 pay out the precise coin among the people of Dukes. No 
 one could say what might have been the consequences." 
 
 " It is not very easy for me to foretell the consequences 
 of the substitutes which, it seems, you did use. A fee to a 
 counsel I can understand ; but what the deuce you have 
 done, legally, with a thousand dollars out-of-doors, ex- 
 ceeds my penetration. I trust you have not been attempt- 
 ing to purchase jurors, Timms?" 
 
 " Not I, sir. I know the penalties too well, to venture 
 on such a defence. Besides, it is too soon to attempt that 
 game. Jurors may be bought ; sometimes are bought, I 
 have heard say " here Timms screwed up his face into a 
 most significant mimicry of disapprobation "but / have 
 done nothing of the sort in the 'State vs. Mary Monson.' 
 It is too soon to operate, even should the testimony drive 
 us to that, in the long run." 
 
 "I forbid all illegal measures, Timms. You know my 
 rule of trying causes is never to overstep the limits of the 
 law." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 145 
 
 "Yes, sir; I understand your principle, which will an- 
 swer, provided both sides stick to it. But, let a man act 
 as close to what is called honesty as he please, what cer- 
 tainty has he that his adversary will observe the same rule ? 
 This is the great difficulty I find in getting along in the 
 world, squire ; opposition upsets all a man's best inten- 
 tions. Now, in politics, sir, there is no man in the country 
 better disposed to uphold respectable candidates and just 
 principles than I am myself ; but the other side squeezes 
 us up so tight, that before the election comes off I'm 
 ready to vote for the devil, rather than get the worst of 
 it." 
 
 "Ay, that's the wicked man's excuse all over the world, 
 Timms. In voting for the gentleman you have just men- 
 tioned, you will remember you are sustaining the enemy 
 of your race, whatever maybe his particular relation to 
 his party. But in this affair at Biberry, you will please to 
 remember it is not an election, nor is the devil a candi- 
 date. What success have you had with the testimony ? " 
 
 " There's an abstract of it, sir ; and a pretty mess it is ! 
 So far as I can see, we shall have to rest entirely on the 
 witnesses of the State ; for I can get nothing out of the 
 accused." 
 
 " Does she still insist on her silence, in respect of the 
 past ? " _ 
 
 "As close as if she had been born dumb. I have told 
 her in the strongest language, that her life depends on her 
 appearing before the jury with a plain tale and a good 
 character ; but she will help me to neither. I never had 
 such a client before " 
 
 "Open-handed you mean, I suppose, Timms?" 
 
 "In that partic'lar, Squire Dunscomb, she is just what 
 the profession likes liberal, and pays down. Of course, 
 I am so much the more anxious to do all I can in her case ; 
 but she will not let me serve her." 
 
 " There must be some strong reason for all this reserve, 
 Timms. Have you questioned the Swiss maid that my 
 niece sent to her ? We know her, and it would seem that 
 she knows Mary Monson. Here is so obvious a way of 
 coming at the past, I trust you have spoken to her ? " 
 
 " She will not let me say a word to the maid. There 
 they live together, chatter with one another from morning 
 to night, in French that nobody understands ; but will see 
 no one but me, and me only in public, as it might be." 
 
 "In public ! You have not asked for private interviews, 
 
46 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 eh, Timms? Remember your views upon the county, and 
 the great danger there is of the electors finding you 
 out." 
 
 "I well know, Squire Dunscomb, that your opinion of 
 me is not very flattering in some partic'lars ; while in oth- 
 ers I think you place me pretty well up the ladder. As 
 for old Dukes, I believe I stand as well in that county as 
 any man in it, now the Revolutionary patriots are nearly 
 gone. So long as any of them lasted, we modern fellows 
 had no chance ; and the way in which relics were brought 
 to light was wonderful ! If Washington only had an army 
 one-tenth as strong as these patriots make it out to be, he 
 would have driven the British from the country years 
 sooner than it was actually done. Luckily, my grand- 
 father did serve a short tour of duty in that war : and my 
 own father was a captain of militia in 1814, ly m g ou t on 
 Harlem Heights and Harlem Common, most of the fall ; 
 when and where he caught the rheumatism. This was no 
 bad capital to start upon : and, though you treat it lightly, 
 squire, I'm a favorite in the county I am!" 
 
 " Nobody doubts it, Timms ; or can doubt it, if he knew 
 the history of these matters. Let me see I believe I first 
 heard of you as a temperance lecturer ? " 
 
 " Excuse me, I began with the Common Schools, on 
 which I lectured with some success, one whole season. 
 Then came the temperance cause, out of which, I will own, 
 not a little capital was made." 
 
 " And do you stop there, Timms ; or do you ride some 
 other hobby into power ? " 
 
 " It's my way, Mr. Dunscomb, to try all sorts of med'- 
 cines. Some folks that wun't touch rhubarb will swallow 
 salts ; and all palates must be satisfied. Free Sile and 
 Emancipation Doctrines are coming greatly into favor ; 
 but they are ticklish things, that cut like a two-edged 
 sword, and I do not fancy meddling with them. There 
 are about as many opposed to meddling with slavery in 
 the free States, as there are in favor of it. I wish I knew 
 your sentiments, Squire Dunscomb, on this subject. I've 
 always found your doctrines touching the constitution to 
 be sound, and such as would stand examination." 
 
 "The constitutional part of the question is very simple, 
 and presents no difficulties whatever," returned the coun- 
 sellor, squinting through the ruby of his glass, with an 
 old-bachelor sort of delight, " except for those who have 
 special ends to obtain," 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 147 
 
 " Has, or has not, Congress a legal right to enact laws 
 preventing the admission of slaves into California?" 
 
 " Congress has the legal right to govern any of its terri- 
 tories despotically ; of course, to admit or to receive what 
 it inay please within their limits. The resident of a terri- 
 tory is not a citizen, and has no legal claim to be so con- 
 sidered. California, as a conquered territory, may be thus 
 governed by the laws of nations, unless the treaty of 
 cession places some restrictions on the authority of the 
 conqueror. A great deal of absurdity is afloat among 
 those who should know better, touching the powers of 
 government in this country. You, yourself, are one of 
 those fellows, Timms, who get things upside-down, and 
 fancy the constitution is to be looked into for everything." 
 
 " And is it not, squire ? that is, in the way of theory 
 in practice, I know it is a very different matter. Are we 
 not to look into the constitution for all the powers of the 
 government?" 
 
 " Of the government, perhaps, in one sense but not for 
 those of the nation. Whence come the powers to make 
 war and peace, to form treaties and alliances, maintain 
 armies and navies, coin money, etc. ?" 
 
 " You'll find them all in the constitution, as I read it, 
 sir." 
 
 "There is just your mistake ; and connected with it are 
 most of the errors that are floating about in our political 
 world. The country gets its legal right to do all these 
 things from the laws of nations ; the constitution mere- 
 ly saying 'who shall be its agents in the exercise of 
 these powers. Thus war is rendered legal by the custom 
 of nations ; and the constitution says Congress shall de- 
 clare war. It also says Congress shall pass all laws that 
 become necessary to carry out this power. It follows, 
 Congress may pass any law that has a legitimate aim to 
 secure a conquest. Nor is this all the functionaries of the 
 government can do, on general principles, in the absence 
 of any special provisions by a direct law. The latter 
 merely supersedes or directs the power of the former. The 
 constitution guarantees nothing to the territories. They 
 are strictly subject, and may be governed absolutely. The 
 only protection of their people is in the sympathy and 
 habits of the people of the States. We give them political 
 liberty, not as of legal necessity, but as a boon to which 
 they are entitled in good-fellowship or as the father pro- 
 vides for his children." 
 
14 8 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 t; Then you think Congress has power to exclude slavery 
 from California ? " 
 
 " I can't imagine a greater legal absurdity than to deny 
 it. I see no use in any legislation on the subject, as a mat- 
 ter of practice, since California will shortly decide on this 
 interest for herself ; but, as a right in theory, it strikes me 
 to be madness to deny that the government of the United 
 States has full power over all its territories, both on gen- 
 eral principles and under the constitution." 
 
 "And in the Deestrict you hold to the same power in 
 the Deestrict?" 
 
 " Beyond a question. Congress can abolish domestic 
 servitude or slavery in the District of Columbia whenever 
 it shall see fit. The right is as clear as the sun at noon- 
 day." 
 
 " If these are your opinions, Squire, I'll go for Free Sile 
 and Abolition in the Deestrict. They have a popular cry, 
 and take wonderfully well in Dukes, and will build me up 
 considerable. I like to be right ; but, most of all, I like to 
 be strong." 
 
 " If you adopt such a course, you will espouse trouble 
 without any dower, and that will be worse than McBrain's 
 three wives ; and, what is more, in the instance of the Dis- 
 trict, you will be guilty of an act of oppression. You will 
 remember that the possession of a legal power to do a par- 
 ticular thing, does not infer a moral right to exercise it. 
 As respects your Free Soil, it may be well to put down a 
 foot ; and, so far as votes legally used can be thrown, to 
 prevent the further extension of slavery. In this respect you 
 are right enough, and will be sustained by an overwhelm- 
 ing majority of the nation ; but, when it comes to the Dis- 
 trict, the question has several sides to it." 
 
 "You said yourself, Squire, that Congress has all power 
 to legislate for the Deestrict?" 
 
 " No doubt it has but the possession of a power does 
 not necessarily imply its use. We have power, as a nation, 
 to make war on little Portugal, and crush her ; but it would 
 be very wicked to do so. When a member of Congress 
 votes on any question that strictly applies to the District, 
 he should reason precisely as if his constituents all lived 
 in the District itself. You will understand, Timms, that 
 liberty is closely connected with practice, and is not a mere 
 creature of phrases and professions. What more intoler- 
 able tyranny could exist than to have a man elected by 
 New Yorkers legislating for the District on strictly 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 149 
 
 York policy; or, if you will, on New York prejudices ? If 
 the people of the District wish to get rid of the institution 
 of domestic slavery, there are ways for ascertaining the 
 fact ; and once assured of that, Congress ought to give the 
 required relief. But in framing such a law, great care 
 should be taken not to violate the comity of the Union. 
 The comity of nations is, in practice, a portion of their 
 laws, and is respected as such ; how much more, then, 
 ought we to respect this comity in managing the relations 
 between the several States of this Union ! " 
 
 "Yes, the sovereign States of the Union," laying em- 
 phasis on the word we have italicized. 
 
 " Pshaw they are no more sovereign than you and I 
 are sovereign." 
 
 " Not sovereign, sir ! " exclaimed Timms, actually jump- 
 ing to his feet in astonishment ; "why this is against the 
 National Faith contrary to all the theories." 
 
 " Something so, I must confess ; yet very good common 
 sense. If there be any sovereignty left in the States, it is 
 the very minimum, and a thing of show, rather than of 
 substance. If you will look at the constitution, you will 
 find that the equal representation of the States in the 
 Senate is the only right of a sovereign character that is 
 left to the members of the Union separate and apart from 
 their confederated communities." 
 
 Timms rubbed his brows, and seemed to be in some 
 mental trouble. The doctrine of the " Sovereign States " 
 is so very common, so familiar in men's mouths, that no 
 one dreams of disputing it. Nevertheless, Dunscomb had a 
 great reputation in his set as a constitutional lawyer, and 
 the "expounders" were very apt to steal his demonstra- 
 tions, without giving him credit for them. As before the 
 nation, a school-boy would have carried equal weight ; 
 but the direct, vigorous, common-sense arguments that he 
 brought to the discussions, as well as the originality of his 
 views, ever commanded the profound respect of the intel- 
 ligent. Timms had cut out for himself a path by which 
 he intended to ascend in the scale of society ; and had in- 
 dustriously, if not very profoundly, considered all the agi- 
 tating questions of the day, in the relations they might be 
 supposed to bear to his especial interests. He had al- 
 most determined to come out an abolitionist ; for he saw 
 that the prejudices of the hour were daily inclining the 
 electors of the Northern States, more and more, to oppose 
 the further extension of domestic slavery, so far as sur* 
 
ISO THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 face was concerned, which was in effect preparing the way 
 for the final destruction of the institution altogether. For 
 Mr. Dunscomb, however, this wily limb of the law, and 
 skilful manager of men, had the most profound respect; 
 and he was very glad to draw him out still further on a 
 subject that was getting to be of such intense interest to 
 himself, as well as to the nation at large ; for, out of all 
 doubt, it is the question, not only of the " Hour," but for 
 years to come. 
 
 "Well, sir, this surprises me more and more. The 
 States not sovereign ! Why, they gave all the power it pos- 
 sesses to the Federal Government ! " 
 
 "Very true ; and it is precisely for that reason they are 
 not sovereign that which is given away is no longer pos- 
 sessed. All the great powers of sovereignty are directly 
 bestowed on the Union, which alone possesses them." 
 
 "I will grant you that, squire ; but enough is retained 
 to hang either of us. The deuce is in it if that be not a 
 sovereign power." 
 
 " It does not follow from the instance cited. Send a 
 squadron abroad, and its officers can hang ; but they are 
 not sovereign, for the simple reason that there is a recog- 
 nized authority over them, which can increase, sustain, or 
 take away altogether any such and all other pow y er. Thus 
 is it with the States. By a particular clause, the constitu- 
 tion can be amended, including all the interests involved, 
 with a single exception. This is an instance in which the 
 exception does strictly prove the rule. All interests but 
 the one excepted can' be dealt with, by a species of legis- 
 lation that is higher than common. The Union can con- 
 stitutionally abolish domestic slavery altogether 
 
 " It can ! It would be the making of any political man's 
 fortune to be able to show /////" 
 
 "Nothing is easier than to show it, in the way of the- 
 ory, Timms ; though nothing would be harder to achieve, 
 in the way of practice. The constitution can be legally 
 amended so as to effect this end, provided majorities in 
 three-fourths of the States can be obtained, though every 
 living soul in the remaining States were opposed to it. 
 That this is the just construction of the great fundamental 
 law, as it has been solemnly adopted, no discreet man can 
 doubt ; though, on the other hand, no discreet person 
 would think of attempting such a measure, as the vote 
 necessary to success cannot be obtained. To talk of the 
 sovereignty of a community over this particular Interest, 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 151 
 
 for instance, when all the authority on the subject can be 
 taken from it in direct opposition to the wishes of every 
 man, woman and child it contains, is an absurdity. The 
 sovereignty, as respects slavery, is in the Union, and not 
 in the several States ; and therein you can see the fallacy 
 of contending that Congress has nothing to do with the 
 interest, when Congress can take the initiative in altering 
 this or any other clause of the great national compact." 
 
 " But, the Deestrict the Deestrict, Squire Dunscomb 
 what can and ought to be done there ? " 
 
 " I believe in my soul, Timms, you have an aim on a 
 seat in Congress ! Why stop short of the Presidency ? 
 Men as little likely as yourself to be elevated to that high 
 office have been placed in the executive chair ; and why 
 not you as well as another ? " 
 
 " It is an office * neither to be sought nor declined,' 
 said an eminent statesman," answered Timms, with a seri- 
 ousness that amused his companion, who saw, by his man- 
 ner, that his old pupil held himself in reserve for accidents 
 of political life. " But, sir, I am very anxious to get right 
 on the subject of the Deestrict" Timms pronounced this 
 word as we have spelt it " and I know that if any man 
 can set me right, it is yourself." 
 
 " As respects the District, Mr. Timms, here is my faith. 
 It is a territory provided for in the constitution for a 
 national purpose, and must be regarded as strictly national 
 property, held exclusively for objects that call all classes of 
 citizens within its borders. Now two great principles, in 
 my view, should control all legislation for this little com- 
 munity. As I have said already, it would be tyranny to 
 make the notions and policy of New York or Vermont 
 bear on the legislation of the District ; but every member 
 is bound to act strictly as a representative of the people 
 of the spot for whom the law is intended. If I were in 
 Congress, I would at any time, on a respectable applica- 
 tion, vote to refer the question of abolition to the people 
 of the District ; if they said ay, I would say ay ; if no, no. 
 Beyond this I would never go ; nor do I think the man 
 who wishes to push matters beyond this, sufficiently re- 
 spects the general principles of representative govern- 
 ment, or knows how to respect the spirit of the national 
 compact. On the supposition that the District ask relief 
 from the institution of slavery, great care should be ob- 
 served in granting the necessary legislation. Although 
 the man in South Carolina has no more right to insist 
 
152 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 that the District should maintain the ' peculiar institu* 
 tion,' because his particular State maintains it, than the 
 Vermontese to insist on carrying his Green Mountain no- 
 tions into the District laws ; yet has the Carolinian rights 
 in this territory that must ever be respected, let the gen- 
 eral policy adopted be what it may. Every American has 
 an implied right to visit the District on terms of equality. 
 Now there would be no equality if a law were passed ex- 
 cluding the domestics from any portion of the country. 
 In the slave States, slaves exclusively perform the func- 
 tions of domestics ; and sweeping abolition might very 
 easily introduce regulations that would be unjust toward 
 the slave-holders. As respects the Northern man, the ex- 
 istence of slavery in or out of the District is purely a spec- 
 ulative question ; but it is not so with the Southern. This 
 should never be forgotten ; and I always feel disgust when 
 I hear a Northern man swagger and make a parade of his 
 morality on this subject." 
 
 " But the Southern men swagger and make a parade of 
 their chivalry, squire, on the other hand ! " 
 
 "Quite true ; but, with them, there is a strong provoca- 
 tion. It is a matter of life and death to the South ; and 
 the comity of which I spoke requires great moderation on 
 our part. As for the threats of dissolution, of which we 
 have had so many, like the cry of * Wolf,' they have worn 
 themselves out and are treated with indifference." 
 
 " The threat is still used, Mr. Dunscomb ! " 
 
 " Beyond a doubt, Timms ; but of one thing you may 
 rest well assured if ever there be a separation between 
 the free and the slave States of this Union, the wedge will 
 be driven home by Northern hands ; not by indirection, 
 but coolly, steadily, and with a thorough Northern deter- 
 mination to open the seam. There will be no fuss about 
 chivalry, but the thing will be done. I regard the meas- 
 ure as very unlikely to happen, the Mississippi and its 
 tributaries binding the States together, to say nothing of an- 
 cestry, history, and moral ties, in away to render a rupture 
 very difficult to effect ; but, should it come at all, rely on 
 it, it will come directly from the North. I am sorry to 
 say there is an impatience of the threats and expedients 
 that have so much disfigured Southern policy, that have 
 set many at the North to ' calculating the value ;' and 
 thousands may now be found, where ten years since it 
 would not have been easy to meet with one, who deem 
 separation better than union with slavery. Still, the 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 153 
 
 general feeling of the North is passive ; and I trust it will 
 so continue." 
 
 " Look at the laws for the recovery of fugitives, squire, 
 and the manner in which they are administered." 
 
 " Bad enough, I grant you, and full of a want of good 
 faith. Go to the bottom of this subject, Timms, or let it 
 alone altogether. Some men will tell you that slavery is 
 a sin, and contrary to revealed religion. This I hold to be 
 quite untrue. At all events, if it be a sin it is a sin to give 
 the son the rich inheritance of the father, instead of divid- 
 ing it among the poor; to eat a dinner while a hungrier man 
 than yourself is within sound of your voice ; or, indeed, to 
 do anything that is necessary and agreeable, when the act 
 may be still more necessary to, or confer greater pleasure 
 on, another. I believe in a Providence, and I make little 
 doubt that African slavery is an important feature in God's 
 laws, instead of being disobedience to them. But enough 
 of this, Timms you will court popularity, which is your 
 Archimedean lever, and forget all I tell you. Is Mary 
 Monson in greater favor now than when I last saw you ? " 
 
 " The question is not easily answered, sir. She pays 
 well, and money is a powerful screw ! " 
 
 " I do not inquire what you do with her money," said 
 Dunscomb, with the evasion of a man who knew that it 
 would not do to probe every weak spot in morals, any 
 more than it would do to inflame the diseases of the body ; 
 " but, I own, I should like to know if our client lias any 
 suspicions of its uses ? " 
 
 Timms now cast a furtive glance behind him, and edged 
 his chair nearer to his companion, in a confidential way, as 
 if he would trust htm with a private opinion, that he should 
 keep religiously from all others. 
 
 " Not only does she know all about it," he answered, 
 with a knowing inclination of the head, " but she enters 
 into the affair, heart and hand. To my great surprise, she 
 has even made two or three suggestions that were capital 
 in their 'way ! Capital ! yes, sir ; quite capital ! If you 
 were not so stiff in your practice, squire, I should delight 
 to tell you all about it. She's sharp, you may depend on 
 it ! She's wonderfully sharp ! " 
 
 " What ! That refined, lady-like, accomplished young 
 woman ! " 
 
 " She has an accomplishment or two you've never 
 dreamed of, squire. I'd pit her ag'in the sharpest practi- 
 tioner in Dukes, and she'd come out ahead. I thought J 
 
154 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 knew something of preparing a cause ; but she has given 
 hints that will be worth more to me than all her fees ! " 
 
 " You do not mean that she shows experience in such 
 practices ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not. It seems more like mother-wit, I 
 acknowledge ; but it's mother-wit of the brightest sort. 
 She understands them reporters by instinct, as it might 
 be. What is more, she backs all her suggestions with 
 gold, or current bank-notes." 
 
 " And where can she get so much money ? " 
 
 " That is more than I can tell you," returned Timms, 
 opening some papers belonging to the case, and laying 
 them a little formally before the senior counsel, to invite 
 his particular attention. " I've never thought it advisable 
 to ask the question." 
 
 " Timms, you do not, cannot think Mary Monson guilty ?" 
 
 " I never go beyond the necessary facts of a case ; and 
 my opinion is of no consequence whatever. We are em- 
 ployed to defend her ; and the counsel for the State are 
 not about to get a verdict without working some for it. 
 That's my conscience in these matters, Squire Dunscomb." 
 
 Dunscomb asked no more questions. Returned gloomi- 
 ly to the papers, shoved his glass aside, as if it gave him 
 pleasure no longer, and began to read. For near four 
 hours he and Timms were earnestly engaged in preparing 
 a brief, and in otherwise getting the cause ready for trial. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Hel. Oh, that my prayers could such affection move, 
 Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. 
 Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me. 
 Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. 
 
 Midsummer Nigh? 8 Dream. 
 
 WHILE Dunscomb and Timms were thus employed, the 
 younger members of the party very naturally sought modes 
 of entertainment that were more in conformity with their 
 tastes and years. John Wilmeter had been invited to be 
 present at the consultation ; but his old feelings were re- 
 vived, and he found a pleasure in being with Anna that in- 
 duced him to disregard the request. His sister and his 
 friend were now betrothed, and they had glided off along 
 one of the pretty paths of the Rattletrap woods, in a way 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 155 
 
 that is so very common to persons in their situation. This 
 left Jack alone with Anna. The latter was timid, shy even; 
 while the former was thoughtful. Still, it was not easy to 
 separate ; and they, too, almost unconsciously to them- 
 selves, were soon walking in that pleasant wood, following 
 one of its broadest and most frequented paths, however. 
 
 John, naturally enough, imputed the thoughtfulness of 
 his companion to the event of the morning; and he spoke 
 kindly to her, and with a gentle delicacy on the subject, 
 that more than once compelled the warm-hearted girl to 
 struggle against her tears. After he had said enough on 
 this topic, the young man followed the current of his own 
 thoughts, and spoke of her he had left in the jail of Biberry. 
 
 " Her case is most extraordinary," continued John, " and 
 it has excited our liveliest sympathy. By ours, I mean the 
 disinterested and intelligent ; for the vulgar prejudice is 
 strong against her. Sarah, or even yourself, Anna," his 
 companion looked more like herself, at this implied com- 
 pliment, than she had done before that day "could not 
 seem less likely to be guilty of anything wrong, than this 
 Miss Monson ; yet she stands indicted, and is to be tried 
 for murder and arson ! To me, it seems monstrous to sus- 
 pect such a person of crimes so heinous." 
 
 Anna remained silent half a minute ; for she had suffi- 
 cient good sense to know that appearances, unless connect- 
 ed with facts, ought to have no great weight in forming 
 an opinion of guilt or innocence. As Jack evidently ex- 
 pected an answer, however, his companion made an effort 
 to speak. 
 
 " Does she say nothing of her friends, nor express a wish 
 to have them informed of her situation ? " Anna succeeded 
 in asking. 
 
 " Not a syllable. I could not speak to her on the sub- 
 ject, you know " 
 
 "Why not ?" demanded Anna, quickly. 
 
 " Why not ? You've no notion, Anna, of the kind of per- 
 son this Miss Monson is. You cannot talk to her as you 
 would to an every-day sort of young lady ; and, now she is 
 in such distress, one is naturally more cautious about say- 
 ing anything to add to her sorrow." 
 
 " Yes, I can understand that" returned the generous- 
 minded girl ; "and I think you are very right to remember 
 all this, on every occasion. Still, it is so natural for a fe- 
 male to lean on her friends, in every great emergency, I 
 cannot but wonder that your client " 
 
156 THE IV AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 11 Don't call her my client, Anna, I beg of you. I hate 
 the word as applied to this lady. If I serve her in any de- 
 gree, it is solely as a friend. The same feeling prevails 
 with Uncle Tom ; for I understand he has not received a 
 cent of Miss Monson's money, though she is liberal of it to 
 profuseness. Timms is actually getting rich on it." 
 
 " Is it usual for you gentlemen of the bar to give your 
 services gratuitously to those who can pay for them ? " 
 
 " As far from it as possible," returned Jack, laughing 
 " We look to the main chance like so many merchants or 
 brokers, and seldom open our mouths without shutting 
 our hearts. But this is a case altogether out of the com- 
 mon rule ; and Mr. Dunscomb works for love, and not for 
 money." 
 
 Had Anna cared less for John Wilmeter, she might have 
 said something clever about the nephew's being in the 
 same category as the uncle ; but her feelings were too 
 deeply interested to suffer her even to think what would 
 seem to her profane. After a moment's pause, therefore, 
 she quietly said : 
 
 " I believe you have intimated that Mr. Timms is not 
 quite so disinterested?" 
 
 " Not he Miss Monson has given him fees amounting 
 to a thousand dollars, by his own admission ; and the fel- 
 low has had the conscience to take the money. I have re- 
 monstrated about his fleecing a friendless woman in this 
 extravagant manner ; but he laughs in my face for my 
 pains. Timms has good points, but honesty is not one of 
 them. He says no woman can be friendless who has a 
 pretty face, and a pocket full of money " 
 
 " You can hardly call a person unfriended who has so 
 much money at command, John," Anna answered with 
 timidity ; but not without manifest interest in the subject. 
 11 A thousand dollars sounds like a large sum to me ! " 
 
 " It is a good deal of money for a fee ; though much 
 more is sometimes given. I dare say Miss Monson would 
 have gladly given the same to Uncle Tom, if he would 
 have taken it. Timms told me that she proposed offering 
 as much to him ; but he persuaded her to wait until the 
 trial was over." 
 
 "And where does all this money come from, John ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I do not know I am not at all in Miss Mon- 
 son's confidence ; on her pecuniary affairs, at least. She 
 does honor me so much as to consult me about her trial oc- 
 casionally, it is true ; but to me she has never alluded ta 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 157 
 
 money, except to ask me to obtain change for large notes. 
 I do not see anything so very wonderful in a lady's having 
 money. You, who are a sort of heiress, yourself, ought to 
 know that." 
 
 " I do not get money in thousands, I can assure you, 
 Jack ; nor do I think that I have it to get. I believe my 
 whole income would not much more than meet the ex- 
 penditure of this strange woman 
 
 " Do not call her woman, Anna ; it pains me to hear you 
 speak of her in such terms." 
 
 " I beg her pardon and yours, Jack ; but I meant no dis- 
 respect. We are all women." 
 
 " I know it is foolish to feel nervous on such a subject ; 
 but I cannot help it. One connects so many ideas of vul- 
 garity and crime with prisons, and indictments, and trials, 
 that we are apt to suppose all who are accused to belong 
 to the commoner classes. Such is not the fact with Miss 
 Monson, I can assure you. Not even Sarah nay, not 
 even yourself, my dear Anna, can pretend to more decided 
 marks of refinement and education. I do not know a more 
 distinguished young woman 
 
 " There, Jack ; now you call her a woman yourself," in- 
 terrupted Anna, a little archly ; secretly delighted at the 
 compliment she had just heard. 
 
 " Young woman anybody can say that, you know, with- 
 out implying anything common or vulgar , and woman, too, 
 sometimes. I do not know how it was ; but I did not ex- 
 actly like the word as you happened to use it. I believe 
 close and long watching is making me nervous ; and I am 
 not quite as much myself as usual." 
 
 Anna gave a very soft sigh, and that seemed to afford her 
 relief, though it was scarcely audible ; then she continued 
 the subject. 
 
 " How old is this extraordinary young lady?" she de- 
 manded, scarcely speaking loud enough to be heard. 
 
 " Old ! How can I tell ? She is very youthful in ap- 
 pearance ; but, from the circumstance of her having so 
 much money at command, I take it for granted she is of 
 age. The law now gives to every woman the full com- 
 mand of all her property, even though married, after she 
 become of age." 
 
 "Which I trust you find a very proper attention to the 
 rights of our sex ? " 
 
 " I care very little about it ; though Uncle Tom says it 
 is of a piece with all our late New York legislation," 
 
158 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "Mr. Dunscomb, like most elderly persons, has little 
 taste for change ." 
 
 " It is not that. He thinks that minds of an ordinary 
 stamp are running away with the conceit that they are on 
 the road of progress ; and that most of our recent improve- 
 ments, as they are called, are marked by empiricism. This 
 * tea-cup law,' as he terms it, will set the women above their 
 husbands, and create two sets of interests where there 
 ought to be but one." 
 
 ** Yes ; I am aware such is his opinion. He remarked, 
 the day he brought home my mother's settlement for the 
 signatures, that it was the most ticklish part of his profes- 
 sion to prepare such papers. I remember one of his ob- 
 servations, which struck me as being very just." 
 
 "Which you mean to repeat to me, Anna ?" 
 
 " Certainly, John, if you wish to hear it," returned a gen- 
 tle voice, coming from one unaccustomed to refuse any of 
 the reasonable requests of this particular applicant. " The 
 remark of Mr. Dunscomb was this : He said that most 
 family misunderstandings grew out of money ; and he 
 thought it unwise to set it up as a bone of contention be- 
 tween man and wife. Where there was so close a union 
 in all other matters, he thought there might safely be a 
 community of interests in this respect. He saw no suffi- 
 cient reason for altering the old law, which had the great 
 merit of having been tried." 
 
 " He could hardly persuade rich fathers, and vigilant 
 guardians, who have the interests of heiresses to look after, 
 to subscribe to all his notions. They say that it is better 
 to make a provision against imprudence and misfortune, 
 by settling a woman's fortune on herself, in a country 
 where speculation tempts so many to their ruin." 
 
 " I do not object to anything that may have an eye to 
 an evil day, provided it be done openly and honestly. But 
 the income should be common property, and like all that 
 belongs to a family, should pass under the control of its 
 head." 
 
 " It is very liberal in you to say and think this, Anna ! " 
 
 " It is wbat every woman, who lias a true woman's heart, 
 could wish, and would do. For myself, I would marry no 
 man whom I did not respect and look up to in most things ; 
 and surely, if I gave him my heart and my hand, I could 
 wish to give him as much control over my means as cir- 
 cumstances would at all allow. It might be prudent to 
 provide against misfortune by means of settlements ; but 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 159 
 
 this much done, I feel certain it would afford me the great- 
 est delight to commit all that I could to a husband's keep- 
 ing." 
 
 u Suppose that husband were a spendthrift, and wasted 
 your estate ? " 
 
 " He could waste but the income, were there a settle- 
 ment ; and I would rather share the consequences of his 
 imprudence with him, than sit aloof in selfish enjoyment 
 of that in which he did not partake." 
 
 All this sounded very well in John's ears ; and he knew 
 Anna Updyke too well to suppose she did not fully mean 
 all that she said. He wondered what might be Mary Mon- 
 son's views on this subject 
 
 " It is possible for the husband to partake of the wife's 
 wealth, even when he does not command it," the young 
 man resumed, anxious to hear what more Anna might have 
 to say. 
 
 " What ! as a dependent on her bounty ? No woman 
 who respects herself could wish to see her husband so de- 
 graded ; nay, no female, who has a true woman's heart, 
 would ever consent to place the man to whom she has 
 given her hand, in so false a position. It is for the woman 
 to be dependent on the man, and not the man on the woman. 
 I agree fully with Mr. Dunscomb, when he says that ' silken 
 knots are too delicate to be rudely undone by dollars.' The 
 family in which the head has to ask the wife for the money 
 that is to support it, must soon go wrong ; as it is placing 
 the weaker vessel uppermost." 
 
 " You would make a capital wife, Anna, if these are 
 really your opinions ! " 
 
 Anna blushed, and almost repented of her generous 
 warmth ; but, being perfectly sincere, she would not deny 
 her sentiments. 
 
 " They ought to be the opinion of every wife," she an- 
 swered. " I could not endure to see the man to whom I 
 could wish on all occasions to look up, soliciting the means 
 on which we both subsisted. It would be my delight, if I 
 had money and he had none, to pour all into his lap, and 
 then come and ask of him as much as was necessary to my 
 comfort." 
 
 " If he had the soul of a man he would not wait to be 
 asked, but would endeavor to anticipate your smallest 
 wants. I believe you are right, and that happiness is best 
 secured by confidence." 
 
 "And in not reversing the laws of nature. Why do 
 
160 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 women vow to obey and honor their husbands, if they 
 are to retain them as dependents ? I declare, John Wil- 
 meter, I should almost despise the man who could consent 
 to live with me on any terms but those in which nature, 
 the Church, and reason, unite in telling us he ought to be 
 the superior." 
 
 " Well, Anna, this is good, old-fashioned, womanly senti- 
 ment ; and I will confess it delights me to hear it inomyou. 
 I am the better pleased, because, as Uncle Tom is always 
 complaining, the weakness of the hour is to place your sex 
 above ours, and to reverse all the ancient rules in this re- 
 spect. Let a woman, nowadays, run away from her hus- 
 band, and carry off the children ; it is ten to one but some 
 crotchety judge, who thinks more of a character built 
 up on gossip than of deferring properly to that which 
 the laws of God and the wisdom of man have decreed, re- 
 fuse to issue a writ of habeas corpus to restore the issue to 
 the father." 
 
 " I do not know, John," Anna hesitatingly rejoined, 
 with a true woman's instinct " it would be so hard to rob 
 a mother of her children ! " 
 
 " It might be hard, but in such a case it would \SQ just. I 
 like that word * rob,' for it suits both parties. To me, it 
 seems that the father is the party robbed, when the wife 
 not only steals away from her duty to her husband, but de- 
 prives him of his children too." 
 
 " It is wrong, and I have heard Mr. Dunscomb express 
 great indignation at what he called the * soft-soapiness ' of 
 certain judges in cases of this nature. Still, John, the 
 world is apt to -think a woman would not abandon the 
 most sacred of her duties without a cause. That feeling 
 must be at the bottom of what you call the decision, I be- 
 lieve, of these judges." 
 
 "If there be such a cause as would justify a woman in 
 deserting her husband, and in stealing his children for it 
 is robbery after all, and robbery of the worst sort, since it 
 involves breaches of faith of the most heinous nature let 
 that cause be shown, that justice may pronounce between 
 the parties. Besides, it is not true that women will not 
 sometimes forget their duties without sufficient cause. 
 There are capricious, and uncertain, and egotistical 
 women, who follow their own wayward inclinations, as 
 well as selfish men. Some women love power intensely, 
 and are never satisfied with simply filling the place that 
 Was intended for them by nature. It is hard for such to 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. . 161 
 
 submit to their husbands, or, indeed, to submit to any 
 one." 
 
 "It must be a strange female," answered Anna, gently, 
 " who cannot suffer the control of the man of her choice, 
 after quitting father and mother for his sake." 
 
 " Different women have different sources of pride, that 
 make their husbands very uncomfortable, even when they 
 remain with them, and affect to discharge their duties. 
 One will pride herself on family, and take every occasion 
 to let her beloved partner know how much better she is 
 connected than he may happen to be ; another is conceited, 
 and fancies herself cleverer than her lord and master, and 
 would fain have him take her advice on all occasions ; 
 while a third may have the most money, and delight in 
 letting it be known that it is her pocket that sustains the 
 household." 
 
 " I did not know, John, that you thought so much of 
 these things," said Anna, laughing ; " though I think you 
 are very right in your opinions. Pray, which of the 
 three evils that you have mentioned would you conceive 
 the greatest ? " 
 
 " The second. I might stand family pride ; though 
 it is disgusting when it is not ridiculous. Then the 
 money might be got along with for its own sake, pro- 
 vided the purse were in my hand ; but I really do not 
 think I could live with a woman who fancied she knew 
 the most." 
 
 " But, in many things, women ought to, and do, know 
 the most," 
 
 " Oh ! as to accomplishments, and small talk, and mak- 
 ing preserves, and dancing, and even poetry and religion 
 yes, I will throw in religion I could wish my wife to be 
 clever very clever as clever as you are yourself, Anna" 
 the fair listener colored, though her eyes brightened at 
 this unintended but very direct compliment "yes, yes ; 
 all that would do well enough. But when it came to the 
 affairs of men, out-of-door concerns, or politics, or law, or 
 anything, indeed, that called for a masculine education 
 anid understanding, I could not endure a woman who fan- 
 cied she knew the most." 
 
 " I should think few wives would dream of troubling 
 their husbands with their opinions touching the law ! " 
 
 " I don't know that. You've no notion, Anna, to what 
 a pass conceit can carry a person ; you, who are so diffi- 
 dent and shy, and always so ready to yield to those who 
 ii 
 
162 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 ought to know best. I've met with women who, not 
 content with arraying their own charms in their own 
 ways, must fancy they can teach us how to put on our 
 clothes, tell us how to turn over a wristband, or settle a 
 shirt-collar ! " 
 
 "This is not conceit, John, but good taste," cried Anna, 
 now laughing outright, and appearing herself again. " It 
 is merely female tact teaching male awkwardness how to 
 adorn itself. But, surely, no woman, John, would bother 
 herself about law, let her love of domination be as strong 
 as it might." 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that. The only really complaisant 
 thing I ever saw about this Mary Monson " a cloud again 
 passed athwart the bright countenance of Anna "was a 
 sort of strange predilection for law. Even Timms has re- 
 marked it, and commented on it too." 
 
 "The poor woman ' 
 
 " Do not use that word in speaking of her, if you please, 
 Anna." 
 
 "Well, lady if you like that better 
 
 " No say young lady or Miss Monson or Mary, which 
 has the most agreeable sound of all." 
 
 "Yet, I think I have been told that none of you believe 
 she has been indicted by her real name." 
 
 " Very true ; but it makes no difference. Call her by that 
 she has assumed ; but do not call her by an alias as wretched 
 as that of * poor woman. ' ' 
 
 " I meant no slight, I do assure you, John ; for I feel 
 almost as much interest in Miss Monson as you do your- 
 self. It is not surprising, however, that one in her situa- 
 tion should feel an interest in the law." 
 
 " It is not this sort of interest that I mean. It has seemed 
 to me, once or twice, that she dealtT with the difficulties of 
 her own case as if she took a pleasure in meeting them 
 had a species of professional pleasure in conquering them. 
 Timms will not let me into his secrets, and I am glad of it, 
 for I fancy all of them would not bear the light ; but he 
 tells me, honestly, that some of Miss Monson's suggestions 
 have been quite admirable ! '' 
 
 " Perhaps she has been "Anna checked herself with 
 the consciousness that what she was about to utter might 
 appear to be, and, what was of still greater importance in 
 her own eyes, might really be, ungenerous. 
 
 " Perhaps what ? Finish the sentence, I beg of you.'" 
 
 Anna shook her head. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 163 
 
 " You intended to say that perhaps Miss Monson had 
 some experience in the law, and that it gave her a certain 
 satisfaction to contend with its difficulties, in consequence 
 of previous training. Am I not right ? " 
 
 Anna would not answer in terms ; but she gave a little 
 nod in assent, coloring scarlet. 
 
 " I knew it ; and I will be frank enough to own that 
 Timms thinks the same thing. He has hinted as much as 
 that ; but the thing is impossible. You have only to look 
 at her to see that such a thing is impossible." 
 
 Anna Updyke thought that almost anything of the sort 
 might be possible to a female who was in the circumstances 
 of the accused ; this, however, she would not say, lest it 
 might wound John's feelings, for which she had all the 
 tenderness of warm affection, and a woman's self-denial. 
 Had the case been reversed, it is by no means probable 
 that her impulsive companion would have manifested the 
 same forbearance on her account. John would have con- 
 tended for victory, and pressed his adversary with all the 
 arguments, facts and reasons he could muster, on such an 
 occasion. Not so with the gentler and more thoughtful 
 young woman who was now walking quietly, and a little 
 sadly, at his side, instinct with all the gentleness, self- 
 denial, and warm-hearted affection of her sex. 
 
 " No, it is worse than an absurdity " resumed John 
 
 " it is cruel to imagine anything of the sort of Miss 
 
 By the way, Anna, do you know that a very singular thing 
 occurred last evening, before I drove over to town, to be 
 present at the wedding. You know Marie Mill ?" 
 " Certainly Marie Moulin, you should say." 
 "Well, in answering one of her mistress's questions, she 
 said ' out', madame? " 
 
 11 What would you have her say ? * non, madame ' ?" 
 
 " But why madame at all ? Why not mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " It would be very vulgar to say * Yes, miss,' in English." 
 
 "To be sure it would; but it is very different in French. 
 
 One can say must say mademoiselle to a young unmarried 
 
 female in that language ; though it be vulgar to say miss, 
 
 without the name, in English. French, you know, Anna, 
 
 is a much more precise language than our own ; and those 
 
 who speak it do not take the liberties with it that we take 
 
 with the English. Madame always infers a married woman ; 
 
 unless, indeed, it be with a woman a hundred years old." 
 
 " No French woman is ever that, John but it is odd that 
 
 Marie Moulin, who so well understands the usages of her 
 
164 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 own little world, shou!4 have said madame to a demoiselle. 
 Have I not heard, nevertheless, that Marie's first salu- 
 tation, when she was admitted to the jail, was a simple ex- 
 clamation of * mademoiselle ' ? " 
 
 " That is very true ; for I heard it myself. What is 
 more, that exclamation was almost as remarkable as this ; 
 French servants always adding the name under such cir- 
 cumstances, unless they are addressing their own particular 
 mistresses. Madame and mademoiselle are appropriated 
 to those they serve ; while it is mademoiselle this, or 
 madame that, to every one else." 
 
 "And now she calls her mademoiselle or madame ! It only 
 proves that too much importance is not to be attached to 
 Marie Moulin's sayings and doings." 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that. Marie has been three years in 
 this country, as we all know. Now the young person that 
 she left a mademoiselle might very well have become a 
 madame in that interval of time. When they met, the 
 domestic may have used the old and familiar term in her 
 surprise ; or she may not have known of the lady's mar- 
 riage. Afterward, when there had been leisure for ex- 
 planations between them, she gave her mistress her proper 
 appellation." 
 
 " Does she habitually say madame now, in speaking to 
 this singular being ? " 
 
 "Habitually she is silent. Usually she remains in the 
 cell when any one is with Miss or Mrs. Monson, perhaps 
 I ought to say " John used this last term with a strong 
 expression of spite, which gave his companion a sup- 
 pressed but infinite delight "but when anyone is with 
 the mistress, call her what you will, the maid commonly 
 remains in the dungeon or cell. Owing to this, I have 
 never been in the way of hearing the last address the first, 
 except on the two occasions named. I confess I begin to 
 think " 
 
 "What, John?" 
 
 " Why, that our Miss Monson may turn out to be a mar- 
 ried woman, after all." 
 
 " She is very young, is she not ? Almost too young to 
 be a wife ? " 
 
 " Not at all ! What do you call too young ? She is 
 between twenty and twenty-two or three. She may even be 
 twenty-five or six." 
 
 Anna sighed, though almost imperceptibly to herself ; 
 for these were ages that well suited her companion, though 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 165 
 
 the youngest exceeded her own by a twelvemonth. Little 
 more, however, was said on the subject at that inter 
 view. 
 
 It is one of the singular effects of the passion of love, 
 more especially with the generous-minded and just of the 
 female sex, that a lively interest is often awakened in 
 behalf of a successful or favored rival. Such was now the 
 fact as regards the feeling that Anna Updyke began to 
 entertain toward Mary Monson. The critical condition of 
 the lady would of itself excite interest where it failed to 
 produce distrust ; .but the circumstance that John Wil- 
 meter saw so much to admire in this unknown female, if 
 he did not actuall)%love her, gave her an importance in the 
 eyes of Anna that at once elevated her into an object of 
 the highest interest. She was seized with the liveliest 
 desire to see the accused, and began seriously to reflect on 
 the possibility of effecting such an end. No vulgar curios- 
 ity was mingled with this new-born purpose ; but, in ad- 
 dition to the motives that were connected with John's state 
 of mind, there was a benevolent and truly feminine wish, 
 on the part of Anna, to be of service to one of her own 
 sex, so cruelly placed, and cut off, as it would seem, from 
 all communication with those who should be her natural 
 protectors and advisers. 
 
 Anna Updyke gathered, through that which had fallen 
 from Wilmeter and his sister, that the intercourse between 
 the former and his interesting client had been of the most 
 reserved character ; therein showing a discretion and self- 
 respect on the part of the prisoner, that spoke well for her 
 education and delicacy. How such a woman came to be 
 in the extraordinary position in which she was placed, was 
 of course as much a mystery to her as to all others ; 
 though, like every one else who knew aught of the case, 
 she indulged in conjectures of her own on the subject. 
 Being of a particularly natural and frank disposition, with- 
 out a particle of any ungenerous or detracting quality, and 
 filled with woman's kindness in her very soul, this noble- 
 minded young woman began now to feel far more than an 
 idle curiosity in behalf of her who had so lately caused 
 herself so much pain, not to say bitterness of anguish. 
 All was forgotten in pity for the miserable condition of the 
 unconscious offender ; unconscious, for Anna was suffi- 
 ciently clear-sighted and just to see and to admit that, if 
 John had been led astray by the charms and sufferings 
 of this stranger, the fact could not rightfully be imputed 
 
166 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 to the last, as a fault. Every statement of John's went to 
 confirm this act of justice to the stranger. 
 
 Then, the unaccountable silence of Marie Moulin doubled 
 the mystery and greatly increased the interest of the whole 
 affair. This woman had gone to Biberry pledged to com- 
 municate to Sarah all she knew or might learn, touching 
 the accused ; and well did Anna know that her friend 
 would make her the repository of her own information, on 
 this as well as on other subjects ; but a most unaccount- 
 able silence governed the course of the domestic, as well 
 as that of her strange mistress. It really seemed that, 
 in passing the principal door of the jail, Marie Moulin 
 had buried herself in a convent, whe^e all communica- 
 tion with the outer world was forbidden. Three several 
 letters from Sarah had John handed in at the grate, certain 
 that they must have reached the hands of the Swiss ; but no 
 answer had been received. All attempts to speak to Marie 
 were quietly, but most ingeniously evaded by the tact and 
 readiness of the prisoner ; and the hope of obtaining in- 
 formation from that source was abandoned by Sarah, who 
 was too proud to solicit a servant for that which the last 
 was reluctant to communicate. With Anna the feeling 
 was different. She had no curiosity on the subject, sepa- 
 rated from a most generous and womanly concern in the- 
 prisoner's forlorn state ; and she thought far less of Marie 
 Moulin's disrespect and forgetfulness of her word than of 
 Mary Monson's desolation and approaching trial. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Was it for this we sent out 
 Liberty's cry from our shore ? 
 Was it for this that her shout 
 Thrill' d to the world's very core ? 
 
 Moore's National Airs. 
 
 THE third day after the interviews just related, the whole 
 party left Rattletrap for Tim bully, where their arrival was 
 expected by the bride and bridegroom, if such terms can 
 be applied to a woman of forty-five and a man of sixty. 
 The Dukes County circuit and oyer and terminer were 
 about to be held, and it was believed that Mary Monson 
 was to be tried. By this time so lively an interest pre- 
 vailed among the ladies of the McBrain and Dunscomb 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 167 
 
 connections in behalf of the accused, that they had all 
 come to a determination to be present in court. Curiosity 
 was not so much at the bottom of this movement as wom- 
 anly kindness and sympathy. There seemed a bitterness 
 of misery in the condition of Mary Monson, that appealed 
 directly to the heart ; and that silent but eloquent appeal 
 was answered, as has just been stated, generously and with 
 warmth by the whole party from town. With Anna Up- 
 dyke the feeling went materially further than with any of 
 her friends. Strange as it may seem, her interest in John 
 increased that which she felt for his mysterious client ; 
 and her feelings became enlisted in the stranger's behalf, 
 so much the more, in consequence of this triangular sort 
 of passion. 
 
 The morning of the day on which the party crossed the 
 country from Rattletrap to Timbully, Timms arrived at the 
 latter place. He was expected, and was soon after clos- 
 eted with the senior counsel in the pending and most im- 
 portant cause. 
 
 " Does the district attorney intend to move for the trial ?" 
 demanded Dunscomb, the instant the two were alone. 
 
 "He tells me he does, sir; and that early in the week, 
 too. It is my opinion we should go for postponement. "V^e 
 are hardly ready, while the State is too much so." 
 
 " I do not comprehend this, Timms. The law officers of 
 the public would hardly undertake to run down a victim, 
 and she a solitary and unprotected woman ! " 
 
 "That's not it. The law officers of the State don't care 
 a straw whether Mary Monson is found guilty or is acquit- 
 ted. That is, they care nothing about it at present. The 
 case may be different when they are warmed up by a trial 
 and opposition. Our danger comes from Jesse Davis, 
 who is a nephew of Peter Goodwin, his next of kin and 
 heir, and who thinks a great deal of money was hoarded 
 by the old people ; much more than the stocking ever 
 held or could hold, and who has taken it into his wise 
 head that the prisoner has laid hands on this treasure, 
 and is carrying on her defence with his cash. This has 
 roused him completely, and he has retained two of the 
 sharpest counsel on our circuit, who are beginning to 
 work as if the bargain has been clinched in the hard metal. 
 Williams has given me a great deal- of trouble already. I 
 know him ; he will not work without pay ; but pay him 
 liberally, and he is up to anything." 
 
 "Ay, you are diamond cut diamond, Timms outsiders 
 
1 68 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 in the profession. You understand that I work only in 
 the open court, and will know nothing of this out-door 
 management." 
 
 "We do not mean to let you know anything about it, 
 squire," returned Timms, dryly. " Each man to his own 
 manner of getting along. I ought to tell you, however, it 
 has gone out that you are working without a fee, while I 
 am paid in the most liberal manner." 
 
 " I am sorry for that. There is no great harm in the 
 thing itself ; but I dislike the parade of seeming to be un- 
 usually generous. I do not remember to have spoken of 
 this circumstance where it would be likely to be repeated; 
 and I beg you will be equally discreet." 
 
 "The fact has not come from me, I can assure you, sir. 
 It puts me in too awkward a position to delight me ; and I 
 make it a point to say as little as possible of what is dis- 
 agreeable. I do not relish the idea of being thought self- 
 ish by my future constituents. Giniros'ty is my cue be- 
 fore them. But they say you work for love, sir." 
 
 " Love ! " answered Dunscomb, quickly "Love of what ? 
 or of whom ? " 
 
 " Of your client that's the story now. It is said that 
 you admire Miss Monson ; that she is young, and hand- 
 some, and rich ; and she is to marry you, if acquitted. If 
 found guilty and hanged, the bargain is off, of course. 
 You may look displeased, squire ; but I give you my word 
 such is the rumor." 
 
 Dunscomb was extremely vexed ; but he was too proud 
 to make any answer. He knew that he had done that 
 which, among the mass of this nation, is a very capital 
 mistake, in not placing before its observation an intelligible 
 motive one on the level of the popular mind to prevent 
 these freaks of the fancy dealing with his affairs. It is 
 true, that the natural supposition would be that he worked 
 for his fee, as did Timms, had not the contrary got out ; 
 when he became subject to all the crude conjectures of 
 those who ever look for the worst motives for everything. 
 Had he been what is termed a favorite public servant, the 
 very reverse would have been the case, and there was lit- 
 tle that he might not have done with impunity ; but, hav- 
 ing no such claims on the minds of the mass, he came 
 under the common law-which somewhat distinguishes their 
 control. Too much disgusted, however, to continue thi c 
 branch of the subject, the worthy counsellor at once ad 
 verted to another. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 169 
 
 " Have you looked over the list of the jurors, Timms?" 
 he demanded, continuing to sort his papers. 
 
 " That I never fail to do, sir, the first thing. It's my 
 brief, you know, Squire Dunscomb. All safe York law, 
 nowadays, is to be found in that learned body ; especially 
 in criminal cases. There is but one sort of suit in which 
 the jury counts for nothing, and might as well be dispensed 
 with." 
 
 " Which is ?" 
 
 "An ejectment cause. It's not one time in ten that they 
 understand anything about the matter, or care anything 
 about it ; and the court usually leads in those actions but 
 our Dukes County juries are beginning to understand their 
 powers in all others." 
 
 " What do you make of the list ? " 
 
 " It's what I call reasonable, squire. There are two 
 men on it who would not hang Cain, were he indicted 
 for the murder of Abel." 
 
 " Quakers, of course ? " 
 
 " Not they. The time was when we were reduced to 
 the 'thee's,' and the * thou's,' for this sort of support ; but 
 philanthropy is abroad, sir, covering the land. Talk of 
 the schoolmaster ! Why, squire, a new philanthropical 
 idee will go two feet to the schoolmaster's one. Pro-nigger, 
 anti-gallows, eternal peace, woman's rights, the people's 
 power, and anything of that sort sweeps like a tornado 
 through the land. Get a juror who has just come into 
 the anti-gallows notion, and I would defy the state to 
 hang a body-snatcher who lived by murdering his sub- 
 jects." 
 
 " And you count on two of these partisans for our 
 case ! " 
 
 " Lord, no, sir. The district attorney himself knows 
 them both ; and Davis's counsel have been studying that 
 list for the last week, as if it were Blackstone in the hands 
 of a new beginner. I can tell you, Squire Dunscomb, 
 that the jury-list is a most important part of a case out 
 here in the country ! " 
 
 " I am much afraid it is, Timms ; though I never exam- 
 ined one in my life." 
 
 " I can believe you, sir, from what I have seen of your 
 practice. But principles and facts won't answer in an age 
 of the world when men are ruled by talk and prejudice. 
 There is not a case of any magnitude tried, nowadays, 
 without paying proper attention to the jury. We are pretty 
 
170 
 
 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 well off, on the whole ; and I am tolerably sanguine of a 
 disagreement, though I fear an acquittal is quite out of the 
 question." 
 
 " You rely on one or two particularly intelligent and 
 disinterested men, ha ! Timms ? " 
 
 " I rely on five or six particularly ignorant and heated 
 partisans, on the contrary ; men who have been reading 
 about the abolishing of capital punishments, and who, in 
 gin'ral, because they've got hold of some notions that 
 have been worn out as far back as the times of the Caesars, 
 fancy themselves philosophers and the children of progress. 
 The country is getting to be full of what I call donkeys 
 and racers ; the donkey is obstinate, and backs going up- 
 hill ; while the racers will not only break their own necks, 
 but those of their riders too, unless they hold up long 
 before they reach their goal." 
 
 "I did not know, Timms, that you think so much on 
 such subjects. To me, you have always appeared to be 
 a purely working-man no theorist." 
 
 " It is precisely because I am a man of action, and live 
 in the world, and see things as they were meant to be 
 seen, that I laugh at your theories. Why, sir, this country, 
 in my judgment, for the time being, could much better 
 get along without preaching, than without hanging. I 
 don't say always ; fqr there is no telling yet what is to be 
 the upshot of preaching. It may turn out as many think ; 
 in which case human natur' will undergo a change that 
 will pretty much destroy our business. Such a state of 
 things would be worse for the bar, squire, than the Code 
 or the last fee-bill." 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that, Timms ; there are few things 
 worse than this infernal Code." 
 
 " Well, to my taste, the fee-bill is the most disagreeable 
 of the two. A man can stand any sort of law, and any sort 
 of practice ; but he can't stand any sort of pay. I hear the 
 circuit is to be held by one of the new judges a people's 
 man, altogether." 
 
 " You mean by that, I suppose, Timms, one of those who 
 did not hold office under the old system ! It is said that 
 the new broom sweeps clean it is fortunate ours has not 
 brushed away all the old incumbents." 
 
 " No, that is to come ; and come it will, as sure as the 
 sun rises. We must have rotation on the bench, as well as 
 in all other matters. You see, squire, rotation is a sort of 
 claim with many men, who have no other. They fancy the 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 171 
 
 earth to have been created on a sort of Jim Crow principle, 
 because it turns round." 
 
 " That is it ; and it explains the clamor that is made 
 about it. But to return to this jury, Timms ; on the whole, 
 you like it, I should infer ? " 
 
 " Not too well, by any means. There are six or eight 
 names on the list that I'm always glad to see ; for they be- 
 long to men who are friendly to me " 
 
 " Good God, man it cannot be possible that you count 
 on such assistants in a trial for a human life ! " 
 
 "Not count on it, Squire Dunscomb ! I count on it 
 from an action of trespass on the case, to this indictment 
 count on it, quite as much, and a good deal more ration- 
 ally, than you count on your law and evidence. Did'nt I 
 carry that heavy case for the railroad company on that 
 principle altogether ? The law was dead against us, they 
 say, and the facts were against us ; but the verdict was in 
 our favor. That's what I call practising law ! " 
 
 " Yes ; I remember to have heard of that case, and it 
 was always a wonder with the bar how you got along with 
 it. Had it been a verdict against a corporation, no one 
 would have thought anything of it but to carry a bad case 
 for a company, nowadays, is almost an unheard-of thing." 
 
 "You are quite right, sir. I can beat any railroad in the 
 State, with a jury of a neighborhood, let the question or 
 facts be what they may ; but, in this instance, I beat the 
 neighborhood, and all through the faith the jury had in 
 me. It's a blessed institution, this of the jury, Squire 
 Dunscomb ! no doubt it makes us the great, glorious, and 
 free people that we are ! " 
 
 "If the bench continues to lose its influence as it has 
 done, the next twenty years will see it a curse of the worst 
 character. It is now little more than a popular cabal in all 
 cases in the least calculated to awaken popular feeling or 
 prejudice." 
 
 " There's the rub in this capital case of ours. Mary 
 Monson has neglected popularity altogether ; and she is 
 likely to suffer for it." 
 
 " Popularity ! " exclaimed Dunscomb, in a tone of hor- 
 ror " and this in a matter of life and death ! What are 
 we coming to in the law, as well as in politics ! No public 
 man is to be found of sufficient moral courage, or intellect- 
 ual force, to stem this torrent : which is sweeping away 
 everything before it. But in what has our client failed, 
 Timms ? " 
 
172 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " In almost everything connected with this one great 
 point ; and what vexes me is her wonderful power of 
 pleasing, which is completely thrown away. Squire Duns- 
 comb, I would carry this county for Free Sile or ag'n it, 
 with that lady to back me, as a wife." 
 
 " What if she should refuse to resort to popular airs and 
 graces ? " 
 
 " I mean, of course, she aiding and abetting. I would 
 give the world, now, could we get the judge into her com- 
 pany for half an hour. It would make a friend of him : 
 and it is still something to have a friend in the judge in a 
 criminal case." 
 
 "You may well say 'still* Timms ; how much longer it 
 will be so, is another matter. Under the old system it 
 would be hopeless to expect so much complaisance in a 
 judge ; but I will not take it on myself to say what a peo- 
 ple's judge will not do." 
 
 " If I thought the thing could be managed, by George, I 
 would attempt it ! The grand jurors visit the jails, and 
 why not the judges ? What do you think, sir, of an anony- 
 mous letter hinting to his honor that a visit to Mrs. Gott 
 who is an excellent creature in her way might serve the 
 ends of justice ! " 
 
 " As I think of all underhanded movements and trickery. 
 No, no, Timms ; you had better let our client remain un- 
 popular, than undertake anything of this nature." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, sir. Unpopular she is, and 
 will be as long as she pursues her present course ; whereas 
 she might carry all classes of men with her. For my part, 
 Squire Dunscomb, I've found this young lady " here 
 Timms paused, hemmed, and concluded by looking a little 
 foolish a character of countenance by no means common 
 with one of his shrewdness and sagacity. 
 
 " So, so, Master Timms," said the senior counsel, re- 
 garding the junior with a sort of sneer " you are as great 
 a fool as my nephew, Jack Wilmeter ; and have fallen in 
 love with a pretty face, in spite of the grand jury and the 
 gallows ! " 
 
 Timms gave a gulp, seemed to catch his breath, and re- 
 gained enough of his self-command to be able to answer. 
 
 " I'm in hopes that Mr. Wilmeter will think better of 
 this, sir," he said, " and turn his views to a quarter where 
 they will be particularly acceptable. It would hardly do 
 for a young gentleman of his expectations to take a wife 
 out of a jail." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 173 
 
 " Enough of this foolery, Timms, and come to the point. 
 remarks about popularity may have some sense in 
 them, if matters have been pushed too far in a contrary 
 direction. Of what do you complain ? " 
 
 " In the first place, she will not show herself at the win- 
 dows ; and that offends a great many persons who think it 
 proud and aristocratic in her not to act as other criminals 
 act. Then, she has made a capital mistake with a leading 
 reporter, who sent in his name, and desired an interview ; 
 which she declined granting. She will hear from that man, 
 depend on it, sir." 
 
 " I shall look to him, then for, though this class of 
 men is fast putting the law under foot, it may be made to 
 turn on them, by one who understands it, and has the 
 courage to use it. I shall not allow the rights of Mary 
 Monson to be invaded by such a fungus of letters." 
 
 " Fungus of letters ! Ahem if it was anybody but 
 yourself, squire, that I was talking to, I might remind you 
 that these funguses flourish on the dunghill of the com- 
 mon mind." 
 
 "No matter ; the law can be made to touch them, when 
 in good hands ; and mine have now some experience. 
 Has this reporter resented the refusal of the prisoner to 
 see him ? " 
 
 " He is squinting that way, and has got himself sent to 
 Biberry by two or three journals, to report the progress 
 of the trial. I know the man ; he is vindictive, impudent, 
 and always uses his craft to indulge his resentments." 
 
 "Ay, many of those gentry are up to that. Is it not 
 surprising, Timms, that, in a country forever boasting of 
 its freedom, men do not see how much abuse there is of a 
 very important interest, in suffering these irresponsible 
 tyrants to ride rough-shod over the community ? " 
 
 " Lord, squire, it is not with the reporters only that 
 abuses are to be found. I was present, the other day, at a 
 conversation between a judge and a great town lawyer, 
 when the last deplored the state of the juries ! ' What 
 would you have ? " says his honor ; ' angels sent down 
 from Heaven to fill the jury-boxes ? ' Wall " Timms 
 never could get over the defects of his early associations 
 "Waal, squire," he continued, with a shrewd leer of the 
 eyes, " I thought a few saints might be squeezed in be- 
 tween the lowest angel in Heaven and the average of our 
 Dukes County panels. This is a great fashion of talking 
 that is growing up among us to meet an objection by cry- 
 
*74 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 ing out, ' Men are not angels ; * as if some men are not 
 better than others." 
 
 " The institutions clearly maintain that some men are 
 better than others, Timms ! " 
 
 " That's news to me, I will own. I thought the institu- 
 tions declared all men alike that is, all white men ; I 
 know that the niggers are nonsuited." 
 
 " They are unsuited, at least, according to the spirit of 
 the institutions. If all men are supposed to be alike, 
 what use is there in the elections ? Why not draw lots for 
 office, as we draw lots for juries ? Choice infers inequali- 
 ties, or the practice is an absurdity. But here comes 
 McBrain, with a face so full of meaning, he must have 
 something to tell us." 
 
 Sure enough, the bridegroom-physician came into the 
 room at that instant ; and without circumlocution he en- 
 tered at once on the topic that was then uppermost in his 
 mind. It was the custom of the neighborhood to profit by 
 the visits of this able practitioner to his country-place, by 
 calling on him for advice in such difficult cases as existed 
 anywhere in the vicinity of Timbully. Even his recent 
 marriage did not entirely protect him from these appeals, 
 which brought so little pecuniary advantage as to be 
 gratuitous ; and he had passed much of the last two days 
 in making professional visits in a circle around his resi- 
 dence that included Biberry. Such were the means by 
 which he had obtained the information that now escaped 
 from him, as it might be, involuntarily. 
 
 " I have never known so excited a state of the public 
 mind," he cried, "as now exists all around Biberry, on the 
 subject of your client, Tom, and this approaching trial. 
 Go where I may, see whom I will, let the disease be as 
 serious as possible, all, patients, parents, friends and 
 nurses, commence business with asking me what I think 
 of Mary Monson, and of her guilt or innocence." 
 
 " That's because you are married, Ned " Dunscomb 
 coolly answered. " Now no one thinks of putting such a 
 question to me. I see lots of people, as well as yourself ; 
 but not a soul has asked me whether I thought Mary 
 Monson guilty or innocent." 
 
 " Poh ! you are her counsel, and no one could take the 
 liberty. I dare say that even Mr. Timms, here, your 
 associate, has never compared notes with you on that par- 
 ticular point." 
 
 Timms was clearly not quite himself ; and he did not 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 175 
 
 look as shrewd as he once would have done at such a 
 remark. He kept in the background, and was content to 
 listen. 
 
 " I do suppose association with a brother in the law, and 
 in a case of life and death, is something like matrimony, 
 Dr. McBrain. A good deal must be taken for granted, 
 and not a little on credit. As a man is bound to believe 
 his wife the most excellent, virtuous, most amiable and 
 best creature on earth, so is a counsel bound to consider his 
 client innocent. The relation, in each case, is confiden- 
 tial, however ; and I shall not pry into your secrets, any 
 more than I shall betray one of my own." 
 
 " I asked for none, and wish none ; but one may ex- 
 press surprise at the intense degree of excitement that 
 prevails all through Dukes, and even the adjacent 
 counties." 
 
 " The murder of a man and his wife in cold blood, ac- 
 companied by robbery and arson, are enough to arouse 
 the community. In this particular case the feeling of in- 
 terest is increased, I make no doubt, by the extraordinary 
 character, as well as by the singular mystery, of the party 
 accused. I have had many clients, Ned, but never one 
 like this before ; as you have had many wives, but no one 
 so remarkable as the present Mrs. McBrain." 
 
 "Your time will come yet, Master Dunscomb recollect 
 I have always prognosticated that." 
 
 " You forget that I am approaching sixty. A man's 
 heart is as hard and dry as a bill in chancery at that age 
 but, I beg your pardon, Ned ; you are an exception." 
 
 " I certainly believe than a man can have affections, 
 even at four score and what is more, I believe that when 
 the reason and judgment come in aid of the passions " 
 
 Dunscomb laughed outright ; nay, he even gave a little 
 shout, his bachelor habits having rendered him more 
 exuberant in manner than might otherwise have been the 
 case. 
 
 " Passions ! " he cried, rubbing his hands, and looking 
 round for Timms, that he might have some one to share 
 in what he regarded as a capital joke. " The passions of 
 a fellow of three-score ! Ned, you do not flatter yourself 
 that you have been marrying the Widow Updyke in con- 
 sequence of any passion you feel for her ?" 
 
 " I do, indeed," returned the doctor, with spirit ; muster- 
 ing resolution to carry the war into the enemy's country. 
 " Let me tell you, Tom Dunscomb, that a warm-hearted 
 
176 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 fellow can love a woman dearly, long after the age you 
 have mentioned that is, provided he has not let all feel- 
 ing die within him, for want of watering a plant that is the 
 most precious boon of a most gracious Providence." 
 
 " Ay, if he begin at twenty, and keep even pace with his 
 beloved down the descent of time." 
 
 " That may all be true ; but, if it has been his misfort- 
 une to lose one partner, a second 
 
 " And a third, Ned, a third why not foot the bill at 
 once, as they say in the market ? " 
 
 " Well, a third, too, if circumstances make that demand 
 on him. Anything is better than leaving the affections to 
 stagnate for want of cultivation." 
 
 "Adam in Paradise, by Jove! But I'll not reproach 
 you again, since you have got so gentle and kind a creature, 
 and one who is twenty years your junior 
 
 " Only eighteen, if you please, Mr. Dunscomb." 
 
 " Now I should be glad to know whether you have add- 
 ed those two years to the bride's age, or subtracted them 
 from that of the bridegroom ! I suppose the last, however, 
 as a matter of course." 
 
 " I do not well see how you can suppose any such thing, 
 knowing my age as well as you do. Mrs. McBrain is forty- 
 two, an age when a woman can be as lovable as at nine- 
 teen more so, if her admirer happens to be a man of 
 sense." 
 
 " And sixty-two. Well, Ned, you are incorrigible ; and, 
 for the sake of the excellent woman who has consented to 
 have you, I only hope this will be the last exhibition of 
 your weakness. So they talk a good deal of Mary Mon- 
 son, up and down the country, do they ? " 
 
 " Of little else, I can assure you. I am sorry to say, the 
 tide seems to be setting strongly against her." 
 
 "That is bad news; as few jurors, nowadays, are supe- 
 rior to such an influence. What is said, in particular, Dr. 
 McBrain ? In the way of facts, I mean ?" 
 
 " One report is that the accused is full of money ; and 
 that a good deal of that which she is scattering broadcast 
 has been seen by different persons, at different times, in 
 the possession of the deceased Mrs. Goodwin." 
 
 " Let them retail the lie, far and near, squire, and we'll 
 turn it to good account," said Tirmns, taking out his note- 
 book, and writing down what he had just heard. " I have 
 reason to think that every dollar Mary Monson has uttered 
 since her confinement " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 177 
 
 " Imprisonment would be a better word, Mr. Timms," 
 interrupted the doctor. 
 
 " I see no great difference," replied the literal attorney 
 " but imprisonment, if you prefer it. I have reason to 
 think that every dollar Mary Monson has put in circulation 
 since she entered the jail at Biberry, has come from either 
 young Mr. Wilmeter or myself, in exchange for hundred- 
 dollar notes and, in one instance, for a note of five hun- 
 dred dollars. She is well off, I can tell you, gentlemen ; 
 and if she is to be executed, her executor will have some- 
 thing to do when all is over." 
 
 *' You do not intend to allow her to be hanged, Timms ?" 
 demanded McBrain, aghast. 
 
 " Not if I can help it, doctor ; and this lie about the 
 money, when clearly disproved, will be of capital service 
 to her. Let them circulate it as much as they please, the 
 rebound will be in proportion to the blow. The more they 
 circulate that foolish rumor, the better it will be for our 
 client when we come to trial." 
 
 " I suppose you are right, Timms ; though I could pre- 
 fer plainer dealings. A cause in which you are employed, 
 however, must have more or less of management." 
 
 "Which is better, squire, than your law and evidence. 
 But what else has Dr. McBrain to tell us ? " 
 
 " I hear that Peter Goodwin's nephew, who it seems had 
 some expectations from the old people, is particularly sav- 
 age, and leaves no stone unturned to get up a popular 
 feeling against the accused." 
 
 " He had best beware," said Dunscomb, his usually col- 
 orless but handsome face flushing as he spoke. " I shall 
 not trifle in a matter of this sort ha ! Timms ? " 
 
 " Lord bless you, squire, Dukes County folks wouldn't 
 understand a denial of the privilege to say what they please 
 in a case of this sort. They fancy this is liberty ; and 
 'touch my honor, take your poker,' is not more sensitive 
 than the feelin' of liberty in these parts. I'm afraid that 
 not only this Joe Davis, but the reporters, will say just 
 what they please ; and Mary Monson's rights will whistle 
 for it. You will remember that our judge is not only a 
 brand-new one, but he drew the two years' term into the 
 bargain. No, I think it will be wisest to let the law, and 
 old principles, and the right, and true liberty, quite alone ; 
 and to bow the knee to things as they are. A good deal 
 is said about our fathers, and their wisdom, and patriotism, 
 and sacrifices ; but nobody dreams of doing as they did, or 
 12 
 
178 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 of reasoning as they reasoned. Life is made up, in reality, 
 of these little matters in a corner ; while the great princi- 
 ples strut about in buckram, for men to admire them and 
 talk about them. I do take considerable delight, Squire 
 Dunscomb, in hearing you enlarge on a principle, whether 
 it be in law, morals, or politics ; but I should no more 
 think of practising on 'em, than I should think of refusing 
 a thousand dollar fee." 
 
 " Is that your price ?" demanded McBrain, with curios- 
 ity. " Do you work for as large a sum as that, in this case, 
 Timms ? " 
 
 " I'm paid, doctor ; just as you was " the attorney never 
 stuck at grammar "just as you was for that great opera- 
 tion on the Wall Street Millenary'ian 
 
 " Millionaire, you mean, Timms," said Dunscomb, coolly 
 " it means one worth a million." 
 
 " I never attempt a foreign tongue but I stumble," said 
 the attorney, simply ; for he knew that both his friends 
 were familiar with his origin, education, and advancement 
 in life, and that it was wisest to deny nothing to them ; 
 "but since I have been so much with Mary Monson and 
 her woman, I do own a desire to speak the language they 
 use." 
 
 Again Dunscomb regarded his associate intently ; some- 
 thing comical gleaming in his eye. 
 
 " Timms, you have fallen in love with your handsome 
 client," he quietly remarked. 
 
 "No, sir; not quite- as bad as that, yet; though I will 
 acknowledge that the lady is very interesting. Should 
 she be acquitted, and could we only get some knowledge 
 of her early history why, that might put a new face on 
 matters." 
 
 " I must drive over to Biberry in the morning, and have 
 another interview with the lady myself. And now, Ned, 
 I will join your wife, and read an epithalamium prepared 
 for this great occasion. You need not trouble yourself to 
 follow, the song being no novelty ; for I have read it twice 
 before on your account." 
 
 A hearty laugh at his own wit concluded the discourse 
 on the part of the great York counsellor ; though Timms 
 remained some time longer with the doctor, questioning 
 the latter touching opinions and facts gleaned by the phy- 
 sician in the course of his circuit. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 From his brimstone bed at break of day, 
 
 A-walking the devil is gone, 
 To visit his little snug farm of the earth, 
 
 And see how his stock went on. COLERIDGE. 
 
 DUNSCOMB was as good as his word. Next morning he 
 was on his way to Biberry. He was thoughtful ; had laid 
 a bundle of papers on the front seat of the carriage, and 
 went his way musing and silent. Singularly enough, his 
 only companion was Anna Updyke, who had asked a seat 
 in the carriage timidly, but with an earnestness that pre- 
 vailed. Had Jack Wilmeter been at Biberry, this request 
 would not have been made ; but she knew he was in town, 
 and that she might make the little excursion without the 
 imputation of indelicacy, so far as he was concerned. .Her 
 object will appear in the course of the narrative. 
 
 The "best tavern" in Biberry was kept by Daniel Hor- 
 ton. The wife of this good man had a native propensity 
 to talk that had been essentially cultivated in the course 
 of five-and-twenty years' practice in the inn where she had 
 commenced her career as maid ; and was now finishing it 
 as mistress. As is common with persons of her class, she 
 knew hundreds of those who frequented her house ; call- 
 ing each readily by name, and treating every one with a 
 certain degree of professional familiarity that is far from 
 uncommon in country inns. 
 
 "Mr. Dunscomb, I declare!" cried this woman, as she 
 entered the room and found the counsellor and his com- 
 panion in possession of her best parlor. " This is a pleas- 
 ure I did not expect until the circuit. It's quite twenty 
 years, squire, since I had the pleasure of first waiting 
 on you in this house. And a pleasure it has always 
 been ; for I've not forgotten the ejectment suit that you 
 carried for Horton when we was only new beginners. I 
 am glad to see you, sir; welcome to Biberry, as is this 
 young lady, who is your daughter, I presume, Mr. Duns- 
 comb." 
 
 "You forget that I am a bachelor, Mrs. Horton no 
 marrying man, in any sense of the word." 
 
 " I might have known that, had I reflected a moment ; 
 for they say Mary Monson employs none but bachelors 
 
i8o THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 and widowers in her case ; and you are her counsel, I 
 know." 
 
 11 This is a peculiarity of which I was not aware. Timms 
 is a bachelor, certainly, as well as myself ; but to whom 
 else can you allude ? Jack Wilmeter, my nephew, can 
 hardly be said to be employed at all ; nor, for that matter, 
 Michael Millington ; though neither is married." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; we know both of the last well, they having 
 lodged with us. If young Mr. Wilmeter is single, I fancy 
 it is not his own fault " here Mrs. Horton looked very 
 wise, but continued talking " Young gentlemen of a good 
 appearance and handsome fortunes commonly have not 
 much difficulty in getting wives not as much as young 
 ladies ; for you men make the law, and you give your own 
 sex the best chance, almost as a matter of course " 
 
 " Pardon me, Mrs. Horton," interrupted Dunscomb, a 
 little formally, like one who felt great interest in the sub- 
 ject "you were remarking that we have the best chance 
 of getting married ; and here have I been a bachelor all 
 my life, trying in vain to enter into the happy state of 
 matrimony if, indeed, it deserve to be so termed." 
 
 " It could not be very difficult for you to find a com- 
 panion," said the landlady, shaking her head ; " and for 
 the reason I have just given." 
 
 "Which was ?" 
 
 "That you men have made the laws, and profit by them. 
 You can ask whom you please ; but a woman is obliged to 
 wait to be asked." 
 
 " You never were in a greater mistake in your life, I do 
 assure you, my good Mrs. Horton. There is no such law 
 on the subject. Any woman may put the question, as well 
 as any man. This was the law, and I don't think the Code 
 has changed it." 
 
 " Yes, I know that well enough and get laughed at, and 
 pointed at, for her pains. I know that a good deal is said 
 about leap-year ; but who ever heard of a woman's putting 
 the question ? I fancy that even Mary Monson would 
 think twice before she took so bold a step once." 
 
 " Mary Monson ! " exclaimed Dunscomb, suddenly turn- 
 ing toward his hostess " Has she a reputation for being 
 attentive to gentlemen?" 
 
 "Not that I know of; but 
 
 "Then allow me to say, my good Mrs. Horton," inter- 
 rupted the celebrated counsellor, with a manner that was 
 almost austere, " that you have been greatly to blame in 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 181 
 
 hazarding the sort of remark you did. If you know nothing 
 of the character you certainly insinuated, you should have 
 said nothing. It is very extraordinary that women, alive 
 as they must be to the consequences to one of their own 
 sex, are ever more ready than men to throw out careless, 
 and frequently malicious hints, that take away a reputa- 
 tion, and do a melancholy amount of harm in the world. 
 Slander is the least respectable, the most unchristian-like, 
 and the most unlady-like vice, of all the secondary sins of 
 your sex. One would think the danger you are all exposed 
 to in common would teach you greater caution." 
 
 " Yes, sir, that is true ; but this Mary Monson is in such 
 a pickle already, that it is not easy to make her case much 
 worse," answered Mrs. Horton, a good deal frightened at 
 the austerity of Dunscomb's rebuke ; for his reputation 
 was too high to render his good or bad opinion a matter 
 of indifference to her. " If you only knew the half that 
 is said of her in Dukes, you wouldn't mind a careless word 
 or so about her. Everybody thinks her guilty ; and a 
 crime more or less can be of no great matter to the likes 
 of her'' 
 
 " Ah, Mrs. Horton, these careless words do a vast deal 
 of harm. They insinuate away a reputation in a breath ; 
 and my experience has taught me that they who are the 
 most apt to use them are persons whose own conduct will 
 least bear the light. Women with a whole log-heap of 
 beams in their own eyes, are remarkable for discovering 
 motes. Give me the female who floats along quietly in 
 her sphere, unoffending and charitable, wishing for the 
 best, and as difficult to be brought to think as to do evil. 
 But they talk a good deal against my client, do they ? " 
 
 " More than I have ever known folks talk against any 
 indicted person, man or woman. The prize-fighters, who 
 were in for murder, had a pretty hard time of it ; but 
 nothing to Mary Monson's. In short, until Squire Timms 
 came out in her favor, she had no chance at all." 
 
 "This is not very encouraging, certainly but what is 
 said, Mrs. Horton, if you will suffer me to put the ques- 
 tion ?" 
 
 "Why, Squire Dunscomb," answered the woman, purs- 
 ing up a very pretty American mouth of her own, " a body 
 is never sure that you won't call what she says slander " 
 
 " Poh poh you know me better than that. I never 
 meddle with that vile class of suits. I am employed to 
 defend Mary Monson, you know 
 
182 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "Yes, and are well paid for it too, Squire Dunscomb, if 
 all that a body hears is true," interrupted Mrs. Horton, a 
 little spitefully. " Five thousand dollars, they say, to a cent ! " 
 
 Dunscomb, who was working literally without other re- 
 ward than the consciousness of doing his duty, smiled, 
 while he frowned at this fresh instance of the absurdities 
 into which rumor can lead its votaries. Bowing a little 
 apology, he coolly lighted a cigar, and proceeded. 
 
 "Where is it supposed that Mary Monson can find such 
 large sums to bestow, Mrs. Horton?" he quietly asked, 
 when his cigar was properly lighted. " It is not usual for 
 young and friendless women to have pockets so well lined." 
 
 " Nor is it usual for young women to rob and murder 
 old ones, squire." 
 
 " Was Mrs. Goodwin's stocking thought to be large 
 enough to hold sums like that you have mentioned ? " 
 
 " Nobody knows. Gold takes but little room, as witness 
 Californy. There was General Wilton every one thought 
 him rich as Caesar 
 
 "Do you not mean Crcesus, Mrs. Horton ?" 
 
 "Well, Caesar or Croesus ; both were rich, I do suppose, 
 and General Wilton was thought the equal of either ; but, 
 when he died, his estate wouldn't pay his debts. On the 
 other hand, old Davy Davidson was set down by nobody 
 at more than twenty thousand, and he left ten times that 
 much money. So I say nobody knows. Mrs. Goodwin 
 was always a saving woman, though Peter would make the 
 dollars fly, if he could get at them. There was certainly a 
 weak spot in Peter, though known to but very few." 
 
 Dunscomb now listened attentively. Every fact of this 
 nature was of importance just then ; and nothing could be 
 said of the murdered couple that would not induce all en- 
 gaged in the cause to prick up their ears. 
 
 " I have always understood that Peter Goodwin was a 
 very respectable sort of a man," observed Dunscomb, with 
 a profound knowledge of human nature, which was far 
 more likely to induce the woman to be communicative, in 
 the way of opposition, than by any other process " as 
 respectable a man as any about here." 
 
 " So he might be, but he had his weak points as well as 
 other respectable men ; though, as I have said already, 
 his'n wasn't generally known. Everybody is respectable, 
 I suppose, until they're found out. But Peter is dead and 
 gone, and I have no wish to disturb his grave, which I be- 
 lieve to be a sinful act." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 183 
 
 This sounded still more ominously, and it greatly in- 
 creased Dunscomb's desire to learn more. Still he saw 
 that great caution must be used, Mrs. Horton choosing to 
 affect much tenderness for her deceased neighbor's char- 
 acter. The counsellor knew human nature well enough 
 to be aware that indifference was sometimes as good a 
 stimulant as opposition ; and he now thought it expedient 
 to try the virtue of that quality. Without making any im- 
 mediate answer, therefore, he desired the attentive and 
 anxious Anna Updyke to perform some little office for 
 him ; thus managing to get her out of the room, while the 
 hostess stayed behind. Then his cigar did not quite suit 
 him, and he tried another, making divers little delays that 
 set the landlady on the tenter-hooks of impatience. 
 
 " Yes, Peter is gone dead and buried and I hope the 
 sod lies lightly on his remains ! " she said, sighing ostenta- 
 tiously. 
 
 " Therein you are mistaken, Mrs. Horton," the coun- 
 sellor coolly remarked " the remains of neither of those 
 found in the ruins of the house are under ground yet ; but 
 are kept for the trial." 
 
 " What a time we shall have of it ! so exciting and full 
 of mystery ! " 
 
 "And you might add 'custom,' Mrs. Horton. The re- 
 porters alone, who will certainly come from town like an 
 inroad of Cossacks, will fill your house." 
 
 " Yes, and themselves, too. To be honest with you, 
 Squire Dunscomb, too many of those gentry wish to be 
 kept for nothing to make them pleasant boarders. I dare 
 say, however, we shall be full enough next week. I some- 
 times wish there was no such thing as justice, after a hard- 
 working Oyer and Terminer court." 
 
 "You should be under no concern, my good Mrs. Hor- 
 ton, on that subject. There is really so little of the thing 
 you have mentioned that no reasonable woman need make 
 herself unhappy about it. So Peter Goodwin was a fault- 
 less man, was he ? " 
 
 "As far from it as possible, if the truth was said of him ; 
 and seeing the man is not absolutely under ground, I do 
 not know why it may not be told. I can respect the grave, 
 as well as another ; but, as he is not buried, one may tell 
 the truth. Peter Goodwin was, by no means, the man he 
 seemed to be." 
 
 " In what particular did he fail, my good Mrs. Horton ? " 
 
 To be good in Dunscomb's eyes, the landlady well knew, 
 
1 84 THE IV A YS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 was a great honor ; and she was flattered as much by the 
 manner in which the words were uttered, as by their im- 
 port. Woman-like, Mrs. Horton was overcome by this 
 little bit of homage ; and she felt disposed to give up a se- 
 cret which, to do her justice, had been religiously kept 
 now for some ten or twelve years between herself and her 
 husband. As she and the counsel were alone, dropping 
 her voice a little, more for the sake of appearances than 
 for any sufficient reason, the landlady proceeded. 
 
 "Why, you must know, Squire Dunscomb, that Peter 
 Goodwin was a member of meetin', and a professing 
 Christian, which I suppose was all the better for him, see- 
 ing that he was to be murdered." 
 
 " And do you consider his being a ' professing Christian ' 
 as you call it, a circumstance to be concealed ? " 
 
 " Not at all, sir but I consider it a good reason why the 
 facts I am about to tell you, ought not to be generally 
 known. Scoffers abound ; and I take it that the feelings 
 of a believer ought to be treated more tenderly than those 
 of an unbeliever, for the church's sake." 
 
 " That is the fashion of the times too one of the ways 
 of the hour, whether it is to last or not. But proceed if 
 you please, my good Mrs. Horton ; I am quite curious to 
 know by what particular sin Satan managed to overcome 
 this * professing Christian ? ' " 
 
 " He drank, Squire Dunscomb no, he guzzled, for that 
 is the best word. You must know that Dolly was avarice 
 itself that's the reason she took this Mary Monson in to 
 board, though her house was no ways suited for boarders, 
 standing out of the way, with only one small spare bed- 
 room, and that under the roof. Had she let this stranger 
 woman come to one of the regular houses, as she might 
 have done, and been far better accommodated than it was 
 possible for her to be in a garret, it is not likely she would 
 have been murdered. She" lost her life, as I tell Horton, 
 for meddling with other people's business." 
 
 "If such were the regular and inevitable punishment of 
 that particular offence, my good landlady, there would be 
 a great dearth of ladies," said Tom Dunscomb, a little 
 dryly "but you were remarking that Peter Goodwin, the 
 member of meeting, and Mary Monson's supposed victim, 
 had a weakness in favor of strong liquor ? " 
 
 " Juleps were his choice I've heard of a part of the 
 country, somewhere about Virginny I believe it is, where 
 teetotalers make an exception in favor of juleps it may do 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 185 
 
 there, Squire Dunscomb, but it won't do here. No liquor 
 undoes a body, in this part of the country, sooner than 
 mint juleps. I will find you ten constitutions that can 
 hold out ag'in brandy, or plain grog, or even grog, beer, 
 and cider, all three together, where you can find me one 
 that will hold out ag'in juleps. I always set down a reg'lar 
 julep fancier as a case that is, in this part of the country." 
 
 " Very true, my good landlady, and very sensible and 
 just. I consider you a sensible and just woman, whose 
 mind has been enlarged by an extensive acquaintance with 
 human nature 
 
 " A body does pick up a good deal in and around a bar, 
 Squire Dunscomb ! " 
 
 " Pick up, indeed I've known 'em picked up by the 
 dozen myself. And Peter would take the juleps ?" 
 
 " Awfully fond of them ! He no more dared to take one 
 at home, however, than he dared to go and ask Minister 
 Watch to make him one. No, he know'd better where the 
 right sort of article was to be had, and always came down 
 to our house when he was dry. Horton mixes stiff, or we 
 should have been a good deal better off in the world than 
 we are not that we're mis'rable, as it is. But Horton 
 takes it strong himself, and he mixes strong for others. 
 Peter soon found this out, and he fancied his juleps more, 
 as he has often told me himself, than the juleps of the 
 great Bowery-man, who has a name for 'em, far and near. 
 Horton can mix a julep, if he can do nothing else." 
 
 "And Peter Goodwin was in the habit of frequenting 
 your house privately, to indulge this propensity ? " 
 
 " I'm almost ashamed to own that he did perhaps it 
 was sinful in us to let him ; but a body must carry out the 
 idee of trade our trade is tavern-keeping, and it's our 
 business to mix liquors, though Minister Watch says, al- 
 most every Sabbath, that professors should do nothing out 
 of sight that they wouldn't do before the whole congrega- 
 tion. I don't hold to that, however, for it would soon 
 break up tavern-keeping altogether. Yes, Peter did drink 
 awfully, in a corner." 
 
 " To intoxication, do you mean, Mrs. Horton ? " 
 
 " To delirrum tremus, sir yes, full up to that. His 
 way was to come down to the village on the pretence of 
 business, and to come right to our house, where I've 
 known him to take three juleps in the first half-hour. 
 Sometimes he'd pretend to go to town to see his sister, 
 when he would stay two or three days upstairs in a room 
 
1 86 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 that Horton keeps for what he calls his cases he has given 
 the room the name of his ward hospital-ward he means." 
 
 " Is the worthy Mr. Horton a member of the meeting 
 also, my good landlady ? " 
 
 Mrs. Horton had the grace to color ; but she answered 
 without stammering, habit fortifying us in moral discrep- 
 ancies much more serious than even this. 
 
 " He was, and I don't know but I may say he is yet ; 
 though he hasn't attended, now, for more than two years. 
 The question got to be between meetin' and the bar ; and 
 the bar carried the day, so far as Horton is concerned. 
 I've held out better, I hope, and expect to gain a victory. 
 It's quite enough to have one backslider in a family, I tell 
 my husband, squire." 
 
 "A sufficient supply, ma'am quite a sufficiency. So 
 Peter Goodwin lay in your house drunk, days at a time ? " 
 
 " I'm sorry to say he did. He was here a week once, 
 with delirrum tremus on him ; but Horton carried him 
 through by the use of juleps ; for that's the time to take 
 'em, everybody says ; and we got him home without old 
 Dolly's knowing that he hadn't been with his sister that 
 whole time. The turn satisfied Peter for three good 
 months." 
 
 " Did Peter pay as he went, or did you keep a score ? " 
 
 "Ready money, sir. Catch us keeping an account with 
 a man when his wife ruled the roast ! No, Peter paid like 
 a king, for every mouthful he swallowed." 
 
 "I am far from certain that the comparison is a good 
 one, kings being in no degree remarkable for paying their 
 debts. But is it not possible that Peter may have set his 
 own house on fire, and thus have caused all this calamity, 
 for which my client is held responsible?" 
 
 " I've thought that over a good deal since the murder, 
 squire, but don't well see how it can be made out. Setting 
 the building on fire is simple enough ; but who killed the 
 old couple, and who robbed the house, unless this Mary 
 Monson did both ? " 
 
 " The case has its difficulties, no doubt ; but I have 
 known the day to dawn after a darker night than this. I 
 believe that Mrs. Goodwin and her husband were very 
 nearly of the same height ? " 
 
 " Exactly ; I've see them measure, back to back. He 
 was a very short man, and she a very tall woman ! " 
 
 " Do you know anything of a German female who is 
 said to have lived with the unfortunate couple ? " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 187 
 
 " There has been some talk of such a person since the 
 fire ; but Dolly Goodwin kept no help. She was too stingy 
 for that ; then she had no need of it, being very strong and 
 stirring for her time of life." 
 
 ** Might not a boarder, like Miss Monson, have induced 
 her to take this foreigner into her family for a few weeks ? 
 The nearest neighbors, those who would be most likely to 
 know all about it, say that no wages were given, the 
 woman working for her food and lodging." 
 
 "Squire Dunscomb, you'll never make it out that any 
 German killed Peter and his wife." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; though even that is possible. Such, 
 however, is not the object of my present inquiries but, 
 here comes my associate counsel, and I will take another 
 occasion to continue this conversation, my good Mrs. 
 Horton." 
 
 Timms entered with a hurried air. For the first time in 
 his life he appeared to his associate and old master to be 
 agitated. Cold, calculating, and cunning, this man seldom 
 permitted himself to be so much thrown off his guard as 
 to betray emotion ; but now he actually cfid. There was 
 a tremor in his form that extended to his voice ; and he 
 seemed afraid to trust the latter even in the customary 
 salutations. Nodding his head, he drew a chair and took 
 his seat. 
 
 " You have been to the jail ? " asked Dunscomb. 
 
 A nod was the answer. 
 
 " You were admitted, and had an interview with our 
 client ?" 
 
 Nod the third was the only reply. 
 
 " Did you put the question to her, as I desired ? " 
 
 " I did, sir ; but I would sooner cross-examine all Dukes, 
 than undertake to get anything she does not wish to tell, 
 out of that one young lady ! " 
 
 " I fancy most young ladies have a faculty for keeping 
 such matters to themselves as they do not wish to reveal. 
 Am I to understand that you got no answers ?" 
 
 " I really do not know, squire. She was polite, and 
 obliging, and smiling but, somehow or other, I do not 
 recollect her replies." 
 
 " You must be falling in love, Timms, to return with 
 such an account," retorted Dunscomb, a cold but very sar- 
 castic smile passing over his face. " Have a care, sir ; 'tis 
 a passion that makes a fool of a man sooner than any other. 
 I do not think there is much danger of the lady's return- 
 
 9 
 
1 88 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 ing your flame ; unless, indeed, you can manage to make 
 her acquittal a condition of the match." 
 
 " I am afraid dreadfully afraid, her acquittal will be a 
 very desperate affair," answered Timms, passing his hauds 
 down his face, as if to wipe away his weakness. "The 
 deeper I get into the matter, the worse it appears!" 
 
 'Have you given our client any intimation to this effect?' 
 
 " I hadn't the heart to do it. She is just as composed, 
 and calm, and tranquil, and judicious yes, and ingenious, 
 as if she were only the counsel in this affair of life and 
 death ? I couldn't distrust so much tranquillity. I wish 
 I knew her history ! " 
 
 " My interrogatories pointed out the absolute necessity 
 of her furnishing us with the means of enlightening the 
 court and jury on that most material point, should the 
 worst come to the worst." 
 
 " 1 know they did, sir ; but they no more got at the 
 truth than my own pressing questions. I should like to 
 see that lady on the stand, above all things ! I think she 
 would bother saucy Williams, and fairly put him out of 
 countenance. By the way, sir, I hear he is employed 
 against us by the nephew, who is quite furious about the 
 loss of the money, which he pretends was a much larger 
 sum than the neighborhood had commonly supposed." 
 
 " I have always thought the relations would employ 
 some one to assist the public prosecutor in a case of this 
 magnitude. The theory of our government is that the 
 public virtue will see the laws executed, but in my expe- 
 rience, Timms, this public virtue is a very acquiescent and 
 indifferent quality, seldom troubling itself even to abate 
 a nuisance, until its own nose is offended, or its own pocket 
 damaged." 
 
 " Roguery is always more active than honesty I found 
 that out long since, squire. But, it is nat'ral for a public 
 prosecutor not to press one on trial for life, and the ac- 
 cused a woman, closer than circumstances seem to demand. 
 It is true, that popular feeling is strong ag'in Mary Mon- 
 son ; but it was well in the nephew to fee such a bull-dog 
 as Williams, if he wishes to make a clean sweep of it." 
 
 " Does our client know this ?" 
 
 "Certainly ; she seems to know all about her case, and 
 has a strange pleasure in entering into the mode and man- 
 ner of her defence. It would do your heart good, sir, to 
 see the manner in which she listens, and advises, and con- 
 sults. She's wonderful handsome at such times ! " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 189 
 
 "You are in love, Timms ; and I shall have to engage 
 some other assistant. First Jack, and then you ! Umph ! 
 This is a strange world, of a verity." 
 
 " I don't think it's quite as bad with me as that," said 
 Timms, this time rubbing his shaggy eyebrows as if to as- 
 certain whether or not he were dreaming, " though I must 
 own I do not feel precisely as I did a month since. I wish 
 you would see our client yourself, sir, and make her un- 
 derstand how important it is to her interest that we should 
 know something of her past history." 
 
 " Do you think her name is rightfully set forth in the 
 indictment ? 
 
 " By no means but, as she' has called herself Mary 
 Monson, she cannot avail herself of her own acts." 
 
 " Certainly not I asked merely as a matter of informa- 
 tion. She must be made to feel the necessity of fortifying 
 us on that particular point, else it will go far toward con- 
 victing her. Jurors do not like aliases." 
 
 " She knows this already ; for I have laid the matter be- 
 fore her, again and again. Nothing seems to move her, 
 however ; and as to apprehension, she appears to be above 
 all fear." 
 
 " This is most extraordinary ! Have you interrogated 
 the maid ? " 
 
 " How can I ? She speaks no English ; and I can't utter 
 a syllable in any foreign tongue." 
 
 " Ha ! Does she pretend to that much ignorance ? 
 Marie Moulin speaks very intelligible English, as I know 
 from having conversed with her often. She is a clever, 
 prudent Swiss, from one of the French cantons, and is 
 known for her fidelity and trustworthiness. With me she 
 will hardly venture to practise this deception. If she has 
 feigned ignorance of English, it was in order to keep her 
 secrets." 
 
 Timms admitted the probability of its being so ; then he 
 entered into a longer and more minute detail of the state 
 of the case. In the first place, he admitted that, in spite 
 of all his own efforts to the contrary, the popular feeling 
 was setting strong against their client. " Frank Williams," 
 as he called the saucy person who bore that name, had 
 entered into the struggle might and main, and was making 
 his customary impressions. 
 
 "His fees must be liberal," continued Timms, " and I 
 should think are in some way dependent on the result ; for 
 I never saw the fellow more engaged in my life." 
 
190 THE WAYS OF THE PI OUR. 
 
 11 This precious Code does allow such a bargain to be 
 made between the counsel and his client, or any other 
 bargain that is not downright conspiracy," returned Duns- 
 comb ; " but I do not see what is to be shared, even should 
 Mary Monson be hanged." 
 
 " Do not speak in that manner of so agreeable a per- 
 son," cried Timms, actually manifesting emotion "it is 
 unpleasant to think of. It is true, a conviction will not 
 bring money to the prosecution, unless it should bring to 
 light some of Mrs. Goodwin's hoards." 
 
 Dunscomb shrugged his shoulders, and his associate pro- 
 ceeded with his narrative. Two of the reporters were 
 offended, and their allusions to the cause, which were 
 almost daily in their respective journals, were ill-natured, 
 and calculated to do great harm, though so far covered 
 as to wear an air of seeming candor. The natural effect 
 of this "constant dropping," in a community accustom- 
 ed to refer everything to the common mind, had been 
 " to wear away the stone." Many of those who, at first 
 had been disposed to sustain the accused, unwilling 
 to believe that one so young, so educated, so modest in 
 deportment, so engaging in manners, and of the gentler 
 sex, could possibly be guilty of the crimes imputed, were 
 now changing their opinions, under the control of this 
 potent and sinister mode of working on the public senti- 
 ment. The agents employed by Timms to counteract this 
 malign influence had failed of their object ; they working 
 merely for money, while those of the other side were re- 
 senting what they regarded as an affront. 
 
 The family of the Burtons, the nearest neighbors of the 
 Goodwins, no longer received Timms with the frank cor- 
 diality that they had manifested in the earlier period of 
 his intercourse with them. Then, they had been com- 
 municative, eager to tell all that they knew, and, as the 
 lawyer fancied, even a little more ; while they were now 
 reserved, uneasy, and indisposed to let one- half of the real 
 facts within their knowledge be known. Timms thought 
 they had been worked upon, and that they might expect 
 some hostile and important testimony from that quarter. 
 The consultation ended by an exclamation from Duns- 
 comb on the subject of the abuses that were so fast creep- 
 ing into the administration of justice, rendering the boasted 
 freemen of America, though in a different mode, little 
 more likely to receive its benefit from an unpolluted 
 stream, than they who live under the worn out and con- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. igi 
 
 fe c ?edly corrupt systems of the old world. Such is the 
 
 tendency of things, and such one of the ways of the 
 hour. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 % 
 
 Are those hef ribs through which the sun 
 Did peer, as *hrough a gate ? 
 And is that woman all her crew ? 
 Is that a Death, and are there two ? 
 Is Death that woman's mate ? The Phantom Ship. 
 
 AFTER a short preparatory interview with Anna Updyke, 
 Dunscomb repaired to the jail, whither he had already dis- 
 patched a note to announce his intended visit. Good Mrs. 
 Gott received him with earnest attention ; for, as the day 
 of trial approached, this kind-hearted woman manifested a 
 warmer and warmer interest in the fate of her prisoner. 
 
 "You are welcome, Mr. Dunscomb," said this well- 
 disposed and gentle turnkey, as she led the way to the 
 door that opened on the gallery of the jail ; " and welcome, 
 again and again. I do wish this business may fall into 
 good hands ; and I'm afraid Timms is not getting on with 
 it as well as he might." 
 
 " My associate has the reputation of being a skilful 
 attorney and a good manager, Mrs. Gott." 
 
 " So he has, Mr. Dunscomb ; but somehow I scarce 
 know how myself but somehow, he doesn't get along with 
 this cause, as well as I have known him to get along with 
 others. The excitement in the county is terrible ; and 
 Gott has had seven anonymous letters to let him know 
 that if Mary Monson escape, his hopes from the public are 
 gone forever. I tell him not to mind such contemptible 
 things ; but he is frightened half out of his wits. It takes 
 good courage, squire, to treat an anonymous letter with 
 the contempt it merits." 
 
 " It sometimes does, indeed. Then you think we shall 
 have up-hill work with the defence ?" 
 
 'Dreadful! I've never known a cause so generally 
 tried out of doors as this. What makes the matter more 
 provoking, Mary Monson might have had it all her own 
 way, if she had been so minded ; for, at firs,t, she was 
 popularity itself with all the neighbors. Folks nat'rally 
 like beauty, and elegance, and youth ; and Mary has 
 enough of each to make friends anywhere." 
 
I 9 2 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "What! with the ladies?" said Dunscomb, smiling*, 
 " Surely not with your sex, Mrs. Gott ? " 
 
 "Yes, with the women, as well as with the men, if she 
 would only use her means but she stands in her own 
 light. Crowds have been round the outer windows to hear 
 her play on the harp they tell me she uses the real Jew's- 
 harp, Squire Dunscomb ; such as Royal David used to 
 play on ; and that she has great skill. There is a German 
 in the village \vho knows all about music, and he says 
 Mary Monson has been excellently taught by the very 
 best masters." 
 
 " It is extraordinary ; yet it would seem to be so. Will 
 you have the goodness to open the door, Mrs. Gott ?" 
 
 "With all my heart," answered this, in one sense, very 
 singular turnkey, though in another, a very every-day 
 character, jingling her keys, but not taking a forward step 
 to comply ; " Mary Monson expects you. I suppose, sir, 
 you know that saucy Frank Williams is retained by the 
 friends of the Goodwins ? " 
 
 " Mr. Timms has told me as much as that. I cannot say, 
 however, that I have any particular apprehension of en- 
 countering Mr. Williams." 
 
 " No, sir ; not you, I'll engage, not in open court ; but 
 out of doors he's very formidable." 
 
 " I trust this cause, one involving the life and reputation 
 of a very interesting female, will not be tried out of doors, 
 Mrs. Gott. The issue is too serious for such a tribunal." 
 
 " So a body would think ; but a great deal of law busi- 
 ness is settled, they tell me, under the sheds, and in the 
 streets, and in the taverns ; most especially in the juror's 
 bedrooms, and settled in a way it ought not to be." 
 
 " I am afraid you are nearer right than every just-minded 
 person could wish. But we will talk of this another time 
 the door, if you please, now." 
 
 " Yes, sir, in one minute. It would be so easy for Mary 
 Monson to be just as popular with everybody in Biberry 
 as she is with me. Let her come to one of the side win- 
 dows of the gallery this evening, and show herself to the 
 folks, and play on that harp of hers, and Royal David 
 himself could not have been better liked by the Jews of 
 old than she would soon be by our people hereabouts." 
 
 " It is probably now too late. The court sits in a few 
 days ; and the mischief, if any there be, must be done." 
 
 " No such thing, begging your pardon, squire. There's 
 that in Mary Monson that can carry anything she pleases. 
 
THE IV AYS OF THE HOUR. 193 
 
 Folks now think her proud and consequential, because she 
 will not just stand at one of the grates and let them look 
 at her a little." 
 
 " I am afraid, Mrs. Gott, your husband has taught you a 
 greater respect for those you call * the people,' than they 
 deserve to receive at your hands." 
 
 " Gott is dreadfully afraid of them " 
 
 " And he is se.t apart by the laws to see them executed 
 on these very people," interrupted Dunscomb, with a 
 sneer ; " to levy on their possessions, keep the peace, en- 
 force the laws ; in short, to make them fee/, whenever it is 
 necessary, that they ^re governed ! " 
 
 " Gott says ' that the people will rule.' That's his great 
 saying." 
 
 " Will seem to rule is true enough ; but the most that the 
 mass of anv nation can do, is occasionally to check the pro- 
 ceedings of their governors. The every-day work is most 
 effectually done by a favored few here, just as it is done by 
 a favored few everywhere else. The door, now, if you 
 please, my good Mrs. Gott." 
 
 " Yes, sir, in one minute. Dear me ! how odd that you 
 should think so. Why, I thought that you were a Demo- 
 crat, Mr. Dunscomb ? " 
 
 " So I am, as between forms of government ; but I never 
 was fool enough to think that the people can really rule, 
 further than by occasional checks and rebukes." 
 
 " What would Gott say to this ? Why, he is so much afraid 
 of the people that he tells me he never does anything, with- 
 eut fancying some one is looking over his shoulders." 
 
 " Ay, that is a very good rule for a man who wishes to 
 be chosen sheriff. To be a bishop, it would be better to 
 remember the omniscient eye." 
 
 "I do declare oh ! Gott never thinks of that, more'sthe 
 pity," applying the key to the lock. " When you wish to 
 come out, squire, just call at this grate " then dropping 
 her voice to a whisper " try and persuade Mary Monson 
 to show herself at one of the side grates." 
 
 But Dunscomb entered the gallery with no such in- 
 tention. As he was expected, his reception was natural 
 and easy. The prisoner was carefully though simply 
 dressed, and she appeared all the better, most probably, 
 from some of the practised arts of her woman. Marie 
 Moulin, herself, kept modestly within the cell, where, in- 
 deed, she passed most of her time, leaving the now quite 
 handsomely furnished gallery to the uses of her mistress. 
 
1 94 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 After the first few words of salutation, Dunscomb took 
 the chair he was invited to occupy, a good deal at a loss 
 how to address a woman of his companion's mien and 
 general air as a culprit about to be tried for her life. He 
 first attempted words of course. 
 
 " I see you have had a proper regard to your comforts in 
 this miserable place," he remarked. 
 
 " Do not call it by so forbidding a name, Mr. Dunscomb," 
 was the answer, given with a sorrowful, but exceedingly 
 winning smile " it is my place of refuge" 
 
 " Do you still persist in refusing to tell me against what, 
 Miss Monson ?" 
 
 " I persist in nothing that ought not to be done, I hope. 
 At another time I may be more communicative. But, if 
 what Mrs. Gott tells me is correct, I need these walls to 
 prevent my being torn to pieces by those she calls the 
 people outside." 
 
 Dunscomb looked with amazement at the being who 
 quietly made this remark on her own situation. Of beau- 
 tiful form, with all the signs of a gentle origin and refined 
 education, young, handsome, delicate, nay, dainty of speech 
 and acts, there she sat, indicted for arson and murder, and 
 about to be tried for her life, with the composure of a 
 lady in her drawing-room ! The illuminated expression 
 that, at times, rendered her countenance so very remark- 
 able, had now given place to one of sobered sadness ; 
 though apprehension did not appear to be in the least pre- 
 dominant. 
 
 " The sheriff has instilled into his wife a very healthful 
 respect for those she calls the people healthful, for one 
 who looks to their voices for his support. This is very 
 American." 
 
 " I suppose it to be much the same everywhere. I have 
 been a good deal abroad, Mr. Dunscomb, and cannot say I 
 perceive any great difference in men." 
 
 '* Nor is there any, though circumstances cause different 
 modes of betraying their weaknesses, as well as what there 
 is in them that is good. But the people in this country, 
 Miss Monson, possess a power that, in your case, is not to 
 be despised. As Mrs. Gott would intimate, it maybe pru- 
 dent for you to remember that.'" 
 
 " Surely you would not have me make an exhibition of 
 myself, Mr. Dunscomb, at the window of a jail ! " 
 
 " As far from that as possible. I would have you do 
 nothing that is unbecoming one of your habits and opin- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 195 
 
 ioiib nothing, in short, that would be improper, as a means 
 of defence, by one accused and tried by the State. Never- 
 theless, it is always wiser to make friends than to make 
 enemies." 
 
 Mary Monson lowered her eyes to the carpet, and Duns- 
 comb perceived that her thoughts wandered. They were 
 not on her critical situation. It was indispensably neces- 
 sary, however, that he should be explicit, and he did not 
 shrink from his duty. Gently, but distinctly, and with a 
 clearness that a far less gifted mind than that of the ac- 
 cused could comprehend, he now opened the subject of the 
 approaching trial. A few words were first ventured on its 
 grave character, and on the vast importance it was in all 
 respects to his client ; to which the latter listened atten 
 tively, but without the slightest visible alarm. Next, he 
 alluded to the stories that were in circulation the impres- 
 sion they were producing, and the danger there was that 
 her rights might be affected by these sinister opinions. 
 
 " But I am to be tried by a judge and a jury, they tell 
 me," said Mary Monson, when Dunscomb ceased speaking 
 " they will come from a distance, and will not be preju- 
 diced against me by all this idle gossip." 
 
 " Judges and jurors are only men, and nothing goes 
 further with less effort than your * idle gossip.' Nothing 
 is repeated accurately, or it is very rare to find it so ; and 
 those who only half comprehend a subject are certain to 
 relate with exaggerations and false colorings." 
 
 " How, then, can the electors discover the real charac- 
 ters of those for whom they are required to vote ? " de- 
 manded Mary Monson, smiling ; "or get just ideas of the 
 measures they are to support or to oppose ? " 
 
 " Half the time they do neither. It exceeds all our pres- 
 ent means, at least, to diffuse sufficient information for that. 
 The consequence is that appearances and assertions are 
 made to take the place of facts. The mental food of the 
 bulk of this nation is an opinion simulated by the artful to 
 answer their own purposes. But the power of the masses 
 is getting to be very formidable more formidable in a way 
 never contemplated by those who formed the institutions, 
 than in any way that was foreseen. Among other things, 
 they begin to hold the administration of justice in the hol- 
 low of their hands." 
 
 " I am not to be tried by the masses, I trust. If so, my 
 fate would be very hard, I fear, judging from what I hear 
 in my little excursions in the neighborhood." 
 
196 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Excursions, Miss Monson ! " repeated the astonished 
 Dunscomb. 
 
 " Excursions, sir ; I make one for the benefit of air and 
 exercise, every favorable night, at this fine season of the 
 year. Surely you would not have me cooped up here in a 
 jail, without the relief of a little fresh air ?" 
 
 " With the knowledge and concurrence of the sheriff, or 
 that of his wife ?" 
 
 " Perhaps not strictly with those of either ; though I sus- 
 pect good Mrs. Gott has an inkling of my movements. It 
 would be too hard to deny myself air and exercise, both of 
 which are very necessary to my health, because I am 
 charged with these horrid crimes." 
 
 Dunscomb passed a hand over his brow, as if he desired 
 to clear his mental vision by friction of the physical, and, 
 for a moment, sat absolutely lost in wonder. He scarce 
 knew whether he was or was not dreaming. 
 
 " And you have actually been outside of these walls, Miss 
 Monson ! " he exclaimed, at length. 
 
 " Twenty times, at least. Why should I stay within 
 them, when the means of quitting them are always in my 
 power ? " 
 
 As Mary Monson said this, she showed her counsel a set 
 of keys that corresponded closely with those which good 
 Mrs. Gott was in the habit of using whenever she came to 
 open the door of that particular gallery. A quiet smile 
 betrayed how little the prisoner fancied there was anything 
 remarkable in all this. 
 
 " Are you aware, Miss Monson, it is felony to assist a 
 prisoner to escape ?" 
 
 " So they tell me, Mr. Dunscomb ; but as I have not es- 
 caped, or made any attempt to escape, and have returned 
 regularly and in good season to my jail, no one can be 
 harmed for what I have done. Such, at least, is the opin- 
 ion of Mr. Timrns." 
 
 Dunscomb did not like the expression of face that ac- 
 companied this speech. It might be too much to say it 
 was absolutely cunning ; but there was so much of the 
 manoeuvring of one accustomed to manage in it, that it 
 awakened the unpleasant distrust that existed in the earlier 
 days of his intercourse with this singular young woman, 
 and which had now been dormant for several weeks. There 
 was, however, so much of the cold polish of the upper 
 classes in his client's manner, that the offending expression 
 was thrown off from the surface of her looks, as light is 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 197 
 
 reflected from the ground and silvered mirror. At the 
 very instant which succeeded this seeming gleam of cun- 
 ning, all was calm, quiet, refined, gentle, and without ap- 
 parent emotion in the countenance of the accused. 
 
 " Timms ! " repeated Dunscomb, slowly. " So he has 
 known of this, and I dare say has had an agency in bring- 
 ing it about !" 
 
 "As you say it is felony to aid a prisoner to escape, I 
 can say neither yes nor no to this, Mr. Dunscomb, lest I 
 betray an accomplice. I should rather think, however, 
 that Mr. Timms is not a person to be easily caught in the 
 meshes of the law." 
 
 Again the counsellor disliked the expression ; though 
 Mary Monson looked unusually pretty at that particular 
 moment. He did not pause to analyze his feelings not- 
 withstanding, but rather sought to relieve his own curi- 
 osity, which had been a good deal aroused by the informa 
 tion just received. 
 
 " As you have not hesitated to tell me* of what you call 
 your 'excursions,' Miss Monson," he continued, ''perhaps 
 you will so far extend your confidence as to let me know 
 where you go ? " 
 
 "I can have no objection to that. Mr. Timms tells me 
 the law cannot compel a counsel to betray his client's se- 
 crets ; and of course I am safe with you. Stop I have a 
 duty to perform that has been too long delayed. Gentle- 
 men of your profession are entitled to their fees ; and, as 
 yet, I have been very remiss in this respect. Will you do 
 me the favor, Mr. Dunscomb, to accept that, which you 
 will see has been some time in readiness to be offered ? " 
 Dunscomb was too much of a professional man to 
 feel any embarrassment at this act of justice ; but he 
 took the letter, broke the seal, even before his client's 
 eyes, and held up for examination a note for a thousand 
 dollars. Prepared as he was by Timm's account for a lib- 
 eral reward, this large sum took him a good deal by surprise. 
 " This is an unusual fee, Miss Monson ! " he exclaimed ; 
 " one much more considerable than I should expect from 
 you, were I working for remuneration, as in your case I 
 certainly am not." 
 
 " Gentlemen of the law look for their reward, I believe, 
 as much as others. We do not live in the times of chivalry, 
 when gallant men assisted distressed damsels as a matter 
 of honor ; but in what has well been termed a ' bank-note 
 world.' " 
 
198 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " I have no wish to set myself up above the fair prac- 
 tices of my profession, and am as ready to accept a fee as 
 any man in Nassau Street. Nevertheless, I took your case 
 in hand with a very different motive. It would pain me 
 to be obliged to work for a fee, on the present unhappy 
 occasion." 
 
 Mary Monson looked grateful, and for a minute she 
 seemed to be reflecting on some scheme by which she could 
 devise a substitute for the old-fashioned mode of proceed- 
 ing in a case of this sort. 
 
 "You have a niece, Mr. Dunscomb," she at length ex- 
 claimed "as Marie Moulin informs me? A charming 
 girl, and who is about to be married ?" 
 
 The lawyer assented by an inclination of the head, fas- 
 tening his penetrating black eyes on the full, expressive, 
 grayish-blue ones of his companion. 
 
 " You intend to return to town this evening ? " said Mary 
 Monson, in continuation. 
 
 " Such is my intention. I came here to-day to confer 
 with you and Mr. Timms, on the subject of the trial, to 
 see how matters stand on the spot, by personal observa- 
 tion, and to introduce to you one who feels the deepest 
 interest in your welfare, and desires most earnestly to seek 
 your acquaintance." 
 
 The prisoner was now silent, interrogating with her 
 singularly expressive eyes. 
 
 "It is Anna Updyke, the step-daughter of my nearest 
 friend, Doctor McBrain ; and a very sincere, warm-hearted, 
 and excellent girl." 
 
 " I have heard of her, too," returned Mary Monson, with 
 a smile so strange, that her counsel wished she had not 
 given this demonstration of a feeling that seemed out of 
 place, under all the circumstances. "They tell me she is 
 a most charming girl, and that she is a very great favorite 
 with your nephew, the young gentleman whom I have 
 styled my legal vedette." 
 
 " Vedette ! That is a singular term to be used by you ! " 
 
 "Oh! you will remember that I have been much in 
 countries where such persons abound. I must have caught 
 the word from some of the young soldiers of Europe. But, 
 Mr. John VVilmeter is an admirer of the young lady you 
 have named ? " 
 
 " I hope he is. I know of no one with whom I think he 
 would be more likely to be happy.' 1 
 
 Dunscomb spoke earnestly, and at such times his man- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 199 
 
 ner was singularly sincere and impressive. It was this ap- 
 pearance of feeling and nature that gave him the power 
 he possessed over juries ; and it may be said to have made 
 no small part of his fortune. Mary Monson seemed to be 
 surprised ; and she fastened her remarkable eyes on the 
 uncle, in a way that might have admitted of different in- 
 terpretations. Her lips moved as if she spoke to herself \ 
 and the smile that succeeded was both mild and sad. 
 
 " To be sure," added the prisoner, slowly, " my inform- 
 ation is not on the very best authority, coming, as it does, 
 from a servant but Marie Moulin is both discreet and ob 
 servant." 
 
 " She is tolerably well qualified to speak of Anna Up 
 dyke, having seen her almost daily for the last two years, 
 But we are all surprised that you should know anything oi 
 this young woman." 
 
 " I know her precisely as she is known to your niece 
 and Miss Updyke in other words, as a maid who is 
 much esteemed by those she serves but," apparently 
 wishing to change the discourse " we are forgetting 
 the purpose of your visit, all this time, Mr. Dunscomb. 
 Do me the favor to write your address in town, and thai 
 of Doctor McBrain on this card, and we will pioceed to 
 business." 
 
 Dunscomb did as desired, when he opened on the de- 
 tails that were the object of his little journey. As had 
 been the case in all his previous interviews with her, Mary 
 Monson surprised him with the coolness with which she 
 spoke of an issue that involved her own fate, for life or for 
 death. While she carefully abstained from making any 
 allusion to circumstances that might betray her previous 
 history, she shrunk from no inquiry that bore on the acts 
 of which she had been accused. Every question put by 
 Dunscomb that related to the murders and the arson, was 
 answered frankly and freely, there being no wish apparent 
 to conceal the minutest circumstances. She made several 
 exceedingly shrewd and useful suggestions on the subject 
 of the approaching trial, pointing out defects in the testi- 
 mony against her, and reasoning with singular acuteness 
 on particular facts that were known to be much relied on 
 by the prosecution. We shall not reveal these details any 
 further in this stage of our narrative, for they will neces- 
 sarily appear at length in our subsequent pages ; but shall 
 confine ourselves to a few of those remarks that may be 
 better given at present. 
 
200 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " I do not know, Mr. Dunscomb," Mary Monson sud 
 denly said, while the subject of her trial was yet under dis 
 cussion, " that I have ever mentioned to you the fact that 
 Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin were not happy together. One 
 would think, from what was said at the time of the inquest, 
 that they were a very affectionate and contented couple ; 
 but my own observation, during the short time I was 
 under their roof, taught me better. The husband drank, 
 and the wife was avaricious and very quarrelsome. I am 
 afraid, sir, there are few really happy couples to be found 
 on earth ! " 
 
 " If you knew McBrain better, you would not say that, 
 my dear Miss Monson," answered the counsellor with a sort 
 of glee " there's a husband for you ! a fellow who is not 
 only happy with one wife, but who is happy with three ^ as 
 he will tell you himself." 
 
 " Not all at the same time, I hope, sir ? " 
 
 Dunscomb did justice to his friend's character, by relat- 
 ing how the matter really stood ; after which he asked per- 
 mission to introduce Anna Updyke. Mary Monson seemed 
 startled at this request, and asked several questions, which 
 induced her counsel to surmise that she was fearful of 
 being recognized. Nor was Dunscomb pleased with all 
 the expedients adopted by his client in order to extract 
 information from him. He thought they slightly indicated 
 cunning, a quality that he might be said to abhor. Ac- 
 customed as he was to all the efforts of ingenuity in illus- 
 trating a principle or maintaining a proposition, he had 
 always avoided everything like sophistry and falsehood. 
 This weakness on the part of Mary Monson, however, was 
 soon forgotten in the graceful manner in which she ac- 
 quiesced in the wish of the stranger to be admitted. The 
 permission was finally accorded, as if an honor were re- 
 ceived, with the tact of a female and the easy dignity of a 
 gentlewoman. 
 
 Anna Updyke possessed a certain ardor of character that 
 had more than once given her prudent and sagacious 
 mother uneasiness, and which sometimes led her into the 
 commission of acts, always innocent in themselves, and 
 perfectly under the restraint of principles, which the world 
 would have been apt to regard as imprudent. Such, how- 
 ever, was far from being her reputation ; her modesty, and 
 the diffidence with which she regarded herself, being 
 amply sufficient to protect her from the common observa- 
 tion, even while most beset by the weakness named. Her 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 201 
 
 love for John Wilmeter was so disinterested, or to herself 
 so seemed to be, that she fancied she could even assist in 
 bringing about his union with another woman, were that 
 necessary to his happiness. She believed that this myste- 
 rious stranger was, to say the least, an object of intense in- 
 terest with John, which soon made her an object of intense 
 interest with herself ; and each hour increased her desire 
 to become acquainted with one so situated, friendless, ac- 
 cused, and seemingly suspended by a thread over an abyss, 
 as she was. When she first made her proposal to Duns- 
 comb to be permitted to visit his client, the wary and ex- 
 perienced counsellor strongly objected to the step. 
 
 It was imprudent, could lead to no good, and might 
 leave an impression unfavorable to Anna's own character. 
 But this advice was unheeded by a girl of Anna Updyke's 
 generous temperament. Quiet and gentle as she ordinarily 
 appeared to be, there was a deep undercurrent of feeling 
 and enthusiasm in her moral constitution, that bore her 
 onward in any course which she considered to be right, 
 with a total abnegation of self. This was a quality to lead 
 to good or evil, as it might receive a direction ; and hap- 
 pily nothing had yet occurred in her brief existence to 
 carry her away toward the latter goal. 
 
 Surprised at the steadiness and warmth with which his 
 young friend persevered in her request, Dunscomb, after 
 obtaining the permission of her mother, and promising to 
 take good care of his charge, was permitted to convey 
 Anna to Biberry, in the manner related. 
 
 Now that her wish was about to be gratified, Anna Up- 
 dyke, like thousands of others who have been more im. 
 pelled by impulses than governed by reason, shrunk from 
 the execution of her own purposes. But the generous 
 ardor revived in her in time to save appearances ; and she 
 was admitted by well-meaning Mrs. Gott to the gallery of 
 the prison, leaning on Dunscomb's arm, much as she might 
 have entered a drawing-room, in a regular morning call. 
 
 The meeting between these two charming young women 
 was frank and cordial, though slightly qualified by the 
 forms of the world. A watchful and critical observer 
 might have detected less of nature in Mary Monson's man- 
 ner than in that of her guest, even while the welcome she 
 gave her visitor was not without cordiality and feeling. It 
 is true that her courtesy was more elaborate and European, 
 if one may use the expression, than it is usual to see in an 
 American female, and her air was less ardent than that of 
 
202 THE IVAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 Anna ; but the last was highly struck with her countenance 
 and general appearance, and, on the whole, not dissatisfied 
 with her own reception. 
 
 The power of sympathy and the force of affinities soon 
 made themselves felt, as between these two youthful fe- 
 males. Anna regarded Mary as a stranger most grievously 
 wronged ; and forgetting all that there was which was 
 questionable or mysterious in her situation, or remember- 
 ing it only to feel the influence of its interest, while she 
 submitted to a species of community of feeling with John 
 Wilmeter, as she fancied, and soon got to be as much en- 
 tranced with the stranger as seemed to be the fate of all 
 who approached the circle of her acquaintance. On the 
 other hand, Mary Monson felt a consolation and gratifica- 
 tion in this visit to which she had long been a stranger. 
 Good Mrs. Gott was kind-hearted and a woman, but she 
 had no claim to the refinement and peculiar sensibilities of 
 a lady ; while Marie Moulin, discreet, respectful, even wise 
 as she was in her own way, was, after all, nothing but an 
 upper servant. The chasm between the cultivated and the 
 uncultivated, the polished and the unpolished, is wide ; 
 and the accused fully appreciated the change, when one of 
 her own class in life, habits, associations, and, if the reader 
 will, prejudices, so unexpectedly appeared to sympathize 
 with, and to console her. Under such circumstances, three 
 or four hours made the two fast and deeply-interested 
 friends, on their own accounts, to say nothing of the effect 
 produced by the generous advances of one, and the peril- 
 ous condition of the other. 
 
 Dunscomb returned to town that evening, leaving Anna 
 Updyke behind him, ostensibly under the care of Mrs. 
 Gott. Democracy has been carried so far on the high road 
 of ultraism in New York, as in very many interests to be- 
 come the victim of its own expedients. Perhaps the peo- 
 ple are never so far from exercising a healthful, or, indeed, 
 any authority at all, as when made to seem, by the expe- 
 dients of demagogues^to possess an absolute control. It 
 is necessary merely to bestow a power which it is impos- 
 sible for the masses to wield with intelligence, in order to 
 effect this little piece of legerdemain in politics ; the quasi- 
 people in all such cases becoming the passive instruments 
 in the hands of their leaders, who strengthen their own 
 authority by this seeming support of the majority. In all 
 cases, however, in which the agency of numbers can be 
 felt, its force is made to prevail ; the tendency necessarily 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 203 
 
 being to bring down all representation to the level of the 
 majority. The effect of the change has been pretty equally 
 divided between good and evil. In many cases benefits 
 have accrued to the community by the exercise of this di- 
 rect popular control, while in probably quite as many the 
 result has been exactly the reverse of that which was an- 
 ticipated? In no one instance, we believe it will be gen- 
 erally admitted, has the departure from the old practice 
 been less advantageous than in rendering the office of 
 sheriff elective. Instead of being a leading and indepen- 
 dent man, who has a pride in his position, and regards the 
 character of his county as he does his own, this function- 
 ary has got to be, nine times in ten, a mere political ma- 
 noeuvrer, who seeks the place as a reward for party labors, 
 and fills it very much for his personal benefit, conferring 
 no dignity on it by his own position and character, lessen- 
 ing its authority by his want of the qualities calculated to 
 increase it, and, in a good many instances, making it quite 
 as difficult to wrest money from his hands, as from those 
 of the original debtor. 
 
 It is a consequence of this state of things that the sheriff 
 has quite lost all, or nearly all, the personal consideration 
 that was once connected with his office ; and has sunk, in 
 most of the strictly rural counties, into a jailer, and the 
 head of the active bailiffs. His object is altogether money ; 
 and the profit connected with the keeping of the prisoners, 
 now reduced almost entirely to felons, the accused, and 
 persons committed for misdejneanors, is one of the in- 
 ducements for aspiring to an office once so honor- 
 able. 
 
 In this state of things, it is not at all surprising that Duns- 
 comb was enabled to make such an arrangement with Mrs. 
 Gott as would place Anna Updyke in a private room in 
 the house attached to the jail, and which formed the sheriff's 
 dwelling. The counsellor preferred leaving her with Mrs. 
 Horton ; but to this Anna herself objected, both because 
 she had taken a strong dislike to the garrulous but shrewd 
 landlady, and because it would have separated her too 
 much from the person she had come especially to console 
 and sympathize with. 
 
 The arrangement made, Dunscomb, as has already been 
 mentioned, took his departure for town, with the under- 
 standing that he was to return the succeeding week ; the 
 Circuit and Oyer and Terminer sitting on Monday, and 
 the district attorney, Mr. Garth, having given notice to her 
 
204 7Y//<; WAYS OF THE HOL r R. 
 
 counsel tliat the indictment against Mary Monson would 
 be certainly traversed the second day of the sitting, which 
 would be on Tuesday. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen, 
 
 And her eyes may be e'en any color but green ; 
 
 Be they light, gray, or black, their lustre and hue, 
 
 I swear I've no choice, only let her have two. The Duenna. 
 
 Two days after this, Dunscomb was in his library late 
 at night, holding a brief discourse with McBrain's coach- 
 man, who has been already introduced to the reader. Some 
 orders had been given to the last, in relation to another 
 trip to Biberry, whither the master and our lawyer were 
 to proceed next day. The man was an old and indulged 
 servant, and often took great liberties in these conferences. 
 In this respect the Americans of his class differ very little 
 from the rest of their fellow-creatures, notwithstanding all 
 that has been said and written to the contrary. They obey 
 the impulses of their characters much as the rest of man- 
 kind, though not absolutely without some difference in 
 manner. 
 
 " I s'poses, Squire Dunscomb, that this is like to be the 
 last journey that I and the doctor will have to take soon 
 ag'in, in that quarter," coolly observed Stephen, when his 
 master's friend had told him the hour to be at the door, 
 with the other preparations that would be necessary ; "un- 
 less we should happen to be called in at the post mortal" 
 
 "Post mortem, you must mean, Hoof," a slight smile 
 flashing on the lawyer's countenance, and as quickly dis- 
 appearing. " So you consider it a settled thing that my 
 client is to be found guilty ? " 
 
 "That's what they say, sir ; and things turn out, in this 
 country, pretty much the same as they say aforehand. For 
 my part, sir, I never quite liked the criminal's looks." 
 
 <l Her looks ! I do not know where you would go to find 
 a more lovely young woman, Stephen ! " 
 
 This was said with a vivacity and suddenness that startled 
 the coachman a little. Even Dunscomb seemed surprised 
 at his own animation, and had the grace to change color. 
 The fact was that he too was feeling the influence of 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 205 
 
 woman, youthful, lovely, spirited, refined, and surrounded 
 with difficulties. This was the third of Mary Monson's 
 conquests since her arrest, if John Wilmeter's wavering 
 admiration could be placed in this category, viz., Timms, 
 the nephew, and the counsellor himself. Neither was ab- 
 solutely in love ; but each and all submitted to an interest 
 of an unusual degree in the person, character, arid fortunes 
 of this unknown female. Timms, alone, had got so far as 
 to contemplate a marriage ; the idea having crossed his 
 mind that it might be almost as useful as popularity, to be- 
 come the husband of one possessed of so much money. 
 
 'Til not deny her good looks, squire," returned Stephen 
 Hoof or Stephen Huff, as he called himself " but it's 
 her bad looks that isn't so much to my fancy. Vhy, sir, 
 once the doctor had a horse that was agreeable enough to 
 the eye, having a good color and most of the p'ints, but 
 who wasn't no traveller, not a bit on't. One that know'd 
 the animal could see where the fault lay ; the fetlock j'int 
 being oncommon longish ; and that's what I call good looks 
 and bad looks." 
 
 " You mean, Stephen," said Dunscomb, who had re 
 gained all his sang froid, " that Mary Monson has a bad- 
 looking ankle, I suppose, wherein I think you miserably 
 mistaken. No matter ; she will not have to travel under 
 your lash very far. But, how is it with the reporters ? 
 Do you see any more of your friend that asks so many 
 questions ? " 
 
 " They be an axing set, squire, if anybody can be so 
 called," returned Stephen, grinning. " Would you think it, 
 sir ? one day when I was comin' in from Timbully empty, 
 one on 'em axed me for a ride ! a chap as hadn't his foot 
 in a reg'lar private coach since he was born, a wantin' to 
 drive about in a wehicle as well known as Doctor McBrain's 
 best carriage ! Them's the sort of chaps that spreads all 
 the reports that's going up and down the land, they tell me." 
 
 " They do their share of it, Stephen ; though there are 
 enough to help them who do not openly belong to their 
 corps. Well, what does your acquaintance want to know 
 now ? " 
 
 " Oncommon curious, squire, about the bones. He axed 
 me more than forty questions ; what we thought of them ; 
 and about their being male or female bones ; and how we 
 know'd ; and a great many more sich matters. I answered 
 him accordin' to my abilities ; and so he made an article 
 on the subject, and has sent me the papers." 
 
206 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " An article! Concerning Mary Monson, and on youl 
 information ? " 
 
 " Sartain, sir ; and the bones. Vhy, they cut articles out 
 of much narrower cloth, I can tell you, squire. There's the 
 cooks, and chambermaids, and vaiters about town, none of 
 vich can hold up their heads with a reg'lar, long-estab- 
 lished physician's coachman, who goes far ahead of even 
 an omnibus driver in public estimation, as you must know, 
 squire but such sort of folks furnish many an article for 
 the papers nowadays yes, and articles that ladies and 
 gentlemen read." 
 
 " That is certainly a singular source of useful knowledge 
 one must hope they are well-grounded, or they will soon 
 cease to be ladies and gentlemen at all. Have you the 
 paper about you, Stephen ? " 
 
 Hoof handed the lawyer a journal folded with a para- 
 graph in view, that was so much thumbed and dirtied it 
 was not very easy to read it. 
 
 "We understand that the trial of Mary Monson, for the 
 murder of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin," said the " article," 
 " will come of in the adjoining County of Dukes, at a very 
 early day. Strong attempts have been made to make it 
 appear that the skeletons found in the ruins of Goodwin's 
 dwelling, which our readers will remember was burned at 
 the time of the murders, are not human bones ; but we 
 have been at great pains to investigate this very material 
 point, and have no hesitation in giving it as our profound 
 conviction, that it will be made to appear that these mel- 
 ancholy memorials are ail that remain of the excellent 
 couple who were so suddenly taken out of existence. We 
 do not speak lightly on this subject, having gone to the 
 fountain-head for our facts, as well as for our science." 
 
 "Hoof on McBrain !" muttered Dunscomb, arching his 
 brows "this is much of a piece with quite one-half of 
 the knowledge that is poured into the popular mind now- 
 adays. Thank you, Stephen ; I will keep this paper, which 
 may be of use at the trial." 
 
 " I thought our opinions was vorth something more than 
 nothing, sir," answered the gratified coachman ; "a body 
 doesn't ride at all hours, day and night, year after year, 
 and come out where he started. I vishes you to keep that 
 'ere paper, squire, a little carefully, for it may be wanted 
 in the college, where they reads all sorts of things, one of 
 these days." 
 
 " It shall be cared for, my friend I hear some one at 
 

 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 207 
 
 the street-door bell. It is late for a. call, and I fear Peter 
 has gone to bed. See who is there, and good-night." 
 
 Stephen withdrew, the ringing being repeated a little 
 impatiently, and was soon at the street door. The fellow 
 admitted the visitors, and went ruminating homeward, 
 Dunscomb maintaining a very respectable reputation, in a 
 bachelor point of view, for morals. As for the lawyer him- 
 self, he was in the act of reading a second time the pre- 
 cious opinion expressed in the journals, when the door of 
 his library opened, a little hesitatingly it must be con- 
 fessed, and two females stood on its threshold. Although 
 his entirely unexpected visitors were so much muffled in 
 shawls and veils it was not possible to distinguish even the 
 outlines of their persons, Dunscomb fancied each was 
 youthful and handsome, the instant he cast his eyes on 
 them. The result showed how well he guessed. 
 
 Throwing aside the garments that concealed their forms 
 and faces, Mary Monson and Anna Updyke advanced in- 
 to the room. The first was perfectly self-possessed and 
 brilliantly handsome ; while her companion, flushed with 
 excitement and exercise, was not much behind her in 
 this important particular. Dunscomb started, and fancied 
 there was felony, even in his hospitality. 
 
 ** You know how difficult it is for me to travel by day- 
 light," commenced Mary Monson, in the most natural 
 manner in the world ; "that, and the distance we had to 
 drive, must explain the unseasonableness of this visit. You 
 told me once, yourself, that you are both a late and an early 
 man, which encouraged me to venture. Mr. Timms has 
 written me a letter, which I have thought it might be well 
 to show you. There it is ; and when you have cast an eye 
 over it, we will speak of its contents." 
 
 " Why, this is very much like a conditional proposal of 
 marriage !" cried Dunscomb, dropping the hand that held 
 the letter, as soon as he had read the first paragraph. 
 " Conditional, so far as the result of your trial is con- 
 cerned ! " 
 
 " I forgot the opening of the epistle, giving very little 
 thought to its purport ; though Mr. Timms has not writ- 
 ten me a line lately that has not touched on this interest- 
 ing subject. A manage between him and me is so entirely 
 out of the way of all the possibilities, that I look upon his 
 advances as mere embellishment. I have answered him 
 directly in the negative once, and that ought to satisfy any 
 prudent person. They tell me no woman should marry 
 
2oS THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 a man she has once refused ; and I shall plead this as a 
 reason for continued obduracy." 
 
 This was said pleasantly, and without the least appear- 
 ance of resentment ; but in a way to show she regarded 
 her attorney's proposal as very much out of the beaten 
 track. As for Dunscomb, he passed his hand over his 
 brows, and read the rest of a pretty long letter with grave 
 attention. The purely business part of this communica- 
 tion was much to the point ; important, clearly put, and 
 every way creditable to the writer. The lawyer read it at- 
 tentively a second time, ere he once opened his mouth in 
 comments. 
 
 " And why is this shown to me ? " he asked, a little vexed, 
 as was seen in his manner. " I have told you it is felony 
 to assist a prisoner in an attempt to escape." 
 
 " I have shown it to you, because I have not the remotest 
 intention, Mr. Dunscomb, to attempt anything of the sort. 
 I shall not quit my asylum so easily." 
 
 " Then why are you here, at this hour, with the certainty 
 that most of the night must be passed on the road, if you 
 mean to return to your prison ere the sun reappears ?" 
 
 " For air, exercise, and to show you this letter. I am 
 often in town, but am compelled, for more reasons than 
 you are acquainted with, to travel by night." 
 
 " May I ask where you obtain a vehicle to make these 
 journeys in ?" 
 
 " I use my own carriage, and trust to a very long-tried 
 and most faithful domestic. I think Miss Updyke will say 
 he drove us not only carefully, but with great speed. On 
 that score, we have no grounds of complaint. But I am 
 very much fatigued, and must ask permission to sleep for 
 an hour. You have a drawing-room, I take it for granted, 
 Mr. Dunscomb ? " 
 
 " My niece fancies she has two. Shall 1 put lights in 
 one of them ?" 
 
 " By no means. Anna knows the house as well as she 
 does her mother's, and will do the honors. On no account 
 let Miss Wilmeter be disturbed. I am a little afraid of 
 meeting htr, since we have practised a piece of treachery 
 touching Marie Moulin. But, no matter; one hour on a 
 sofa, in a dark room, is all I ask. That will bring us to 
 midnight, when the carriage will again be at the door. You 
 wish to see your mother, my dear, and here is a safe and 
 very suitable attendant to accompany you to her house and 
 back again." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 209 
 
 All this was said pleasantly, but with a singular air of 
 authority, as if this mysterious being were accustomed to 
 plan out and direct the movements of others. She had her 
 way. In a minute or two she was stretched on a sofa, cov- 
 ered with a shawl, the door was closed on her, and Duns- 
 comb was on his way to Mrs. McBrain's residence, which 
 was at some distance from his own, with Anna leaning on 
 his arm. 
 
 "Of course, my dear," said the lawyer, as he and his 
 beautiful companion left his own door at that late hour of 
 the night, " we shall see no more of Mary Monson ? " 
 
 " Not see her again ! I should be very, very sorry to 
 think that, sir ! " 
 
 " She is no simpleton, and means to take Timms's ad- 
 vice. That fellow has written a strong letter, in no expec- 
 tation of its being seen, I fancy, in which he points out a 
 new source of danger ; and plainly advises his client to ab- 
 scond. I can see the infatuation of love in this ; for the 
 letter, if produced, would bring him into great trouble." 
 
 " And you suppose, sir, that Mary Monson intends to 
 follow this advice ? " 
 
 " Beyond a question. She is not only a very clever, but 
 she is a very cunning woman. This last quality is one 
 that I admire in her the least. I should be half in love 
 with her myself" this was exactly the state of the coun- 
 sellor's feelings toward his client, in spite of his bravado 
 and affected discernment ; a woman's charms often over- 
 shadowing a philosophy that is deeper even than his 
 " but for this very trait, which I find little to my taste. I 
 take it for granted you are sent home to be put under your 
 mother's care, where you properly belong ; and I am got 
 out of the way to save me from the pains and penalties of 
 an indictment for felony." 
 
 " I think you do not understand Mary Monson, Uncle 
 Xom "so Anna had long called her friend's relative, as 
 it might be in anticipation of the time when the appella- 
 tion would be correct. " She is not the sort of person to 
 do as you suggest ; but would rather make it a point of 
 honor to remain, and face any accusation whatever." 
 
 " She must have nerves of steel to confront justice in a 
 case like hers", and in the present state of public feeling "in 
 Dukes. Justice is a very pretty thing to talk about, my 
 dear ; but we old practitioners know that it is little more, 
 in human hands, than the manipulations of human pas- 
 sions. Of late years, the outsiders outside barbarians 
 
210 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 they might very properly be termed have almost as much, 
 to do with the result of any warmly-contested suit as the 
 law and evidence. * Who is on the jury ? ' is the first ques- 
 tion asked nowadays ; not what are the facts. I have told 
 all this very plainly to Mary Monson 
 
 " To induce her to fly ? "asked Anna, prettily, and a little 
 smartly. 
 
 " Not so much that, as to induce her to consent to an 
 application for delay. The judges of this country are so 
 much overworked, so little paid, and usually are so neces- 
 sitous, that almost any application for delay is granted. 
 Business at chambers is sadly neglected ; for that is done 
 in a corner, and does not address itself to the public eye, 
 or seek public eulogiums ; but he is thought the cleverest 
 fellow who will soonest sweep out a crowded calendar. 
 Causes are tried by tallow candles until midnight, with 
 half the jurors asleep ; and hard-working men, accustomed 
 to be asleep by eight each night, are expected to keep 
 their thoughts and minds active in the face of all these ob- 
 stacles." 
 
 " Do you tell me this, Uncle Tom, in the expectation 
 that I am to understand it ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, child ; but my heart is full of the 
 failing justice of the land. We shout hosannas in praise of 
 the institutions, while we shut our eyes to the gravest con- 
 sequences that are fast undermining us in the most impor- 
 tant of all our interests. But here we are already ; I had 
 no notion we had walked so fast. Yes, there is Papa Mc- 
 Brain's one-horse vehicle, well emptied of its contents, I 
 hope, by a hard day's work." 
 
 " A doctor's life must be so laborious !" exclaimed the 
 pretty Anna. " I think nothing could tempt me to marry 
 a physician." 
 
 " It is well a certain lady of our acquaintance was not of 
 your way of thinking," returned Dunscomb, laughing; for 
 his good humor always returned when he could give his 
 friend a rub on his matrimonial propensities, "else would 
 McBrain have been troubled to get his last and best. 
 Never mind, my dear, he is a good-natured fellow, and will 
 make a very kind papa." 
 
 Anna made no reply, but rang the bell a little pettishly , 
 for no child likes to have a mother married a second 
 time, there being much greater toleration for fathers, and 
 asked her companion in. As the wife of a physician in 
 full practice, the bride had already changed many of her 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 211 
 
 long-cherished habits. In this respect, however, she did 
 no more than follow the fortunes of woman, who so cheer- 
 fully makes any sacrifice in behalf of him she loves, If 
 men were only one-half as disinterested, as self-denying, 
 and as true as the other sex, in all that relates to the affec- 
 tions, what a blessed state would that of matrimony be ! 
 Still, there are erring, and selfish, and domineering, and 
 capricious, vain, heartless, and self-willed females, whom 
 nature never intended for married life, and who are guilty 
 of. a species of profanation when they stand up and vow to 
 love, honor, and obey their husbands. Many of these dis- 
 regard their solemn pledges, made at the altar, and under 
 the immediate invocation of the Deity, as they would dis- 
 regard a promise made in jest, and think no more of the 
 duties and offices that are so peculiarly the province of 
 their sex, than of the passing and idle promises of vanity. 
 But, if such women exist, and that they do our daily ex- 
 perience proves, they are as exceptions to the great law of 
 female faith, which is tenderness and truth. They are not 
 women in character, whatever they may be in appearance, 
 but creatures in the guise of a sex that they discredit and 
 caricature. 
 
 Mrs. McBram was not a person of the disposition just 
 described. She was gentle and good, and bid fair to make 
 the evening of her second husband's days very happy. 
 Sooth, to say, she was a good deal in love, notwithstanding 
 her time of life, and the still more mature years of the 
 bridegroom ; and had been so much occupied with the 
 duties and cares that belonged to her recent change of 
 condition as to be a little forgetful of her daughter. At 
 no other period of their joint lives would she have permit- 
 ted this beloved child to be absent from her, under such 
 circumstances, without greater care for her safety and 
 comforts ; but there is a honey-week, as well as a honey- 
 moon ; and the intenseness of its feelings might very well 
 disturb the ordinary round of even maternal duties. Glad 
 enough, however, was she now to see her daughter, when 
 Anna, blooming, and smiling, and blushing, flew into her 
 mother's arms. 
 
 " There she is, widow Mrs. Updyke I beg pardon 
 married woman, and Mrs. McBrain," cried Dunscomb. 
 " Ned is such an uneasy fellow, he keeps all his friends in 
 a fever with his emotions, and love, and matrimony ; and 
 that just suits him, as he has only to administer a pill and 
 set all right again. But there she is, safe and unmarried. 
 
212 THE WAYS OF THK HOUR. 
 
 thank Heaven ; which is always a sort of consolation to 
 me. She's back again, and you will do well to keep her 
 until my nephew, Jack, comes to ask permission to carry 
 her off for good and all." 
 
 Anna blushed more deeply than ever, while the mother 
 smiled and embraced her child. Then succeeded questions 
 and answers, until Mrs. McBrain had heard the whole 
 story of her daughter's intercourse with Mary Monson, so 
 far as it has been made known to the reader. Beyond 
 that, Anna did not think herself authorized to go; or,. if 
 she made any revelation, it would be premature for us to 
 repeat it. 
 
 " Here we are, all liable to be indicted for felony," cried 
 Dunscomb, as soon as the young lady had told her tale. 
 " Timms will be hanged, in place of his client ; and we 
 three will have cells at Sing Sing, as accessories before the 
 :ict. Yes, my dear bride, you are what the law terms a 
 'particeps criminis,' and may look out for the sheriff before 
 you are a week older." 
 
 "And why all this, Mr. Dunscomb?" demanded the 
 half-amused, half-frightened Mrs. McBrain. 
 
 " For aiding and abetting a prisoner in breaking jail. 
 Mary Monson is off, beyond a question. She lay down 
 in Sarah's drawing-room, pretending to be wearied, ten 
 minutes since, and has, no doubt, got through with her 
 nap already, and is on her way to Canada, or Texas, or 
 California, or some other out-of-the-way country Cuba, 
 for aught I know." 
 
 " Is this so, think you, Anna?" 
 
 "I'do not, mamma. So far from believing Mary Mon- 
 son to be flying to any out-of-the-way place, I have no 
 doubt that we shall find her fast asleep on Mr. Dunscomb's 
 sofa." 
 
 " Uncle Dunscomb's sofa, if you please, young lady." 
 
 " No, sir ; I shall call you uncle no longer," answered 
 Anna, blushing scarlet " until until " 
 
 *' You have a legal claim to the use of the word. Well, 
 that will come in due time, I trust ; if not, it shall be my 
 care to see you have a title to a still dearer appellation. 
 There, widow Mrs. McBrain, I mean I think you will 
 do. But, seriously, child, you cannot imagine that Mary 
 Monson means ever to return to her prison, there to be 
 tried for life ? " 
 
 " If there is faith in woman, she does sir ; else would I 
 not have exposed myself to the risk of accompanying her.'' 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 213 
 
 " In what manner did you come to town, Anna?" asked 
 the anxious mother. " Are you not now at the mercy of 
 some driver of a hackney-coach, or of some public cab- 
 man?" 
 
 "I understand that the carriage which was in waiting 
 for us, half a mile from Biberry, is Mrs. Monson's " 
 
 " Mrs. ! " interrupted Dunscomb. u Is she, then, a mar- 
 ried woman ? " 
 
 Anna looked down, trembled, and was conscious of hav- 
 ing betrayed a secret. So very precious to herself had 
 been the communication of Marie Moulin on this point, 
 that it was ever uppermost in her thoughts ; and it had 
 now escaped her under an impulse she could not control. 
 It was too late, however, to retreat ; and a moment's reflec- 
 tion told her it would every way be better to tell all she 
 knew on this one point at least. 
 
 This was soon done, for even Marie Moulin's means of 
 information were somewhat limited. This Swiss had for- 
 merly known the prisoner by another name, though what 
 name she would not reveal. This was in Europe, where 
 Marie had actually passed three years in this mysterious 
 person's employment. Marie had even come to America, 
 in consequence of this connection, at the death of her own 
 mother ; but, unable to find her former mistress, had taken 
 service with Sarah Wilmeter. Mary Monson was single 
 and unbetrothed when she left Europ'e. Such was Marie 
 Moulin's statement. But it was understood she was now 
 married ; though to whom, she could not say. If Anna 
 Updyke knew more than this, she did not reveal it at that 
 interview. 
 
 "Ah ! Here is another case of a wife's elopement from 
 her husband," interrupted Dunscomb, as soon as Anna 
 reached this point in her narration; "and I dare say some- 
 thing or other will be found in this wretched code to up- 
 hold her in her disobedience. You have done well to 
 marry, Mrs. McBrain ; for, according to the modern opin- 
 ions in these matters, instead of providing yourself with a 
 lord and master, you have only engaged an upper servant." 
 
 " No true-hearted woman can look upon her husband in 
 so degrading a light," answered the bride, with spirit. 
 
 " That will do for three days, but wait to the end of three 
 years. There are runaway wives enough, at this moment, 
 roaming up and down the land, setting the laws of God 
 and man at defiance, and jingling their purses, when they 
 happen to have money, under their lawful husbands' noses; 
 
2*4 THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 ay, enough to set up a three-tailed pacha ! But this dam- 
 nable code will uphold them, in some shape or other, my 
 life for it. One can't endure her husband because he 
 smokes ; another finds fault with his not going to church 
 but once a day ; another quarrels with him for going three 
 times ; another says he has too much dinner-company ; and 
 another protests she can't get a male friend inside of her 
 house. All these ladies, forgetful as they are of their 
 highest earthly duties, forgetful as they are of woman's 
 very nature, are the models of divine virtues, and lay 
 claim to the sympathies of mankind. They get those of 
 fools, but prudent and reflecting men shake their heads at 
 such wandering deesses." 
 
 " You are severe on us women, Mr. Dunscomb," said the 
 bride. 
 
 " Not on you, my dear Mrs. McBrain never a syllable 
 on you. But go on, child ; I have had the case of one of 
 these vagrant wives in my hands, and know how mistaken 
 has been the disposition to pity her. Men lean to the 
 woman's side ; but the frequency of the abuse is beginning 
 to open the eyes of the public. Go on, Anna dear, and let 
 us hear it all or all you have to tell us." 
 
 Very little remained to be related. Marie Moulin, her- 
 self, knew very little of that which had occurred since her 
 separation from her present mistress in France. She did 
 make one statement, however, that Anna had deemed very 
 important ; but which she felt bound to keep as a secret, 
 in consequence of the injunctions received from the Swiss, 
 
 " I should have a good deal to say about this affair," ob- 
 served Dunscomb, when his beautiful companion was done, 
 "did I believe that we shall find Mary Monson on our 
 return to my house. In that case, I should say to you, my 
 dear widow Mrs. McBrain, I mean the devil take that 
 fellow Ned, he'll have half the women in town bearing his 
 name before he is done. Well, Heaven be praised ! he can 
 neither marry me, nor give me a step-father, let him do his 
 very best. There's comfort in that consideration, at any 
 rate." 
 
 "You were about to tell us what you would do," put in 
 the bride, slightly vexed, yet too well assured of the coun- 
 sellor's attachment to her husband to feel angry; "you 
 must know how much value we give to your advice." 
 
 " I was about to say that Anna should not return to this 
 mysterious convict no, she is not yet convicted, but she is 
 indicted, and that is something but return she should not. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 21 
 
 were there the least chance of our finding her on our retun, 
 home. Let her go then, and satisfy her curiosity, and past, 
 the night with Sarah, who must be through with her firs v 
 nap by this time." 
 
 Anna urged her mother to consent to this arrangement, 
 putting forward her engagement with Mary Monson, not 
 to desert her ; McBrain driving to the door, from paying 
 his last visit that night, his wife gave her assent to the 
 proposition ; the tenderest mother occasionally permitting 
 another and more powerful feeling to usurp the place of 
 maternal care. Mrs. McBrain, it must be admitted, thought 
 more of the bridegroom, sixty as he was, than of her charm- 
 ing daughter ; nor was she yet quite free from the awkward- 
 ness that ever accompanies a new connection of this nature 
 when there are grown-up children, more especially on the 
 part of the female. Then Anna had communicated to her 
 mother a most material circumstance, which it does not 
 suit our present purpose to reveal. 
 
 " Now for a dozen pair of gloves that we do not find 
 Mary Monson," said the lawyer, as he walked smartly 
 toward his own residence, with Anna Updyke under his 
 arm. 
 
 "Done !" cried the young lady "and you shall pay if 
 you lose." 
 
 "As bound in honor. Peter" the gray-headed black 
 who answered the summons to the door "will be glad 
 enough to see us, for the old fellow is not accustomed to 
 let his young rogue of a master in at midnight, with a 
 charming young woman under his arm." 
 
 Anna Updyke was right. Mary Monson was in a deep 
 sleep on the sofa. So profound was her rest, there was a 
 hesitation about disturbing her ; though twelve, the hour 
 set for the return of the carriage to Biberry, was near. 
 For a few minutes Dunscomb conversed with his agreeable 
 companion in his own library. 
 
 " If Jack knew of your being in the house, he would 
 never forgive my not having him called." 
 
 " I shall have plenty of occasions for seeing Jack," re- 
 turned the young lady, coloring. "You know how assid< 
 uous he is in this cause, and how devoted he is to the 
 prisoner." 
 
 " Do not run away with any such notion, child ; Jack is 
 yours, heart and soul." 
 
 " Hist there is the carriage ; Mary must be called." 
 
 Away went Anna, laughing, blushing, but with tears in 
 
216 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 her eyes. In a minute Mary Monson made her appear- 
 ance, somewhat refreshed and calmed by her short nap. 
 
 "Make no excuse for waking mo," said this unaccount- 
 able woman. "We can both sleep on the road. The 
 carriage is as easy as a cradle ; and, luckily, the roads are 
 quite good." 
 
 " Still they lead to a prison, Mrs. Monson." 
 The prisoner smiled, and seemed to be lost in thought. 
 It was the first time any of her new acquaintances had 
 ever addressed her as a married woman ; though Marie 
 Moulin, with the exception of her first exclamation at their 
 recent meeting, had -invariably used the appellation of 
 Madame. All this, however, was soon forgotten in the 
 leave-taking. Dunscomb thought he had seldom seen a 
 female of higher tone of manners, or greater personal 
 charms, than this singular and mysterious young woman 
 appeared to be, as she courtesied her adieu. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 What then avail impeachments, or the law's 
 
 Severest condemnation, while the queen 
 
 May snatch him from the uplifted hand of justice ? 
 
 Earl of Essex. 
 
 PERHAPS the most certain proof that any people can give 
 of a high moral condition, is in the administration of jus- 
 tice. Absolute infallibility is unattainable to men ; but 
 there are wide chasms in right and wrong, between the 
 legal justice of one state of society and that of another. 
 As the descendants of Englishmen, we in this country are 
 apt to ascribe a higher tone of purity to the courts of the 
 mother country, than to those of any other European 
 nation. In this we may be right, without inferring the ne- 
 cessity of believing that the ermine of England is spotless ; 
 for it can never be forgotten that Bacon and Jeffries once 
 filled her highest judicial seats, to say nothing of many 
 others, whose abuses of their trusts have doubtless been 
 lost in their comparative obscurity. Passing from the 
 parent to its offspring, the condition of American justice, 
 so far as it is dependent on the bench, is a profound moral 
 anomaly. It would seem that every known expedient of 
 man has been resorted to, to render it corrupt, feeble, and 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 217 
 
 ignorant ; yet he would be a hardy, not to say an audacious 
 commentator, who should presume to affirm that it is not 
 entitled to stand in the very foremost ranks of human in- 
 tegrity. 
 
 Ill paid, without retiring pensions, with nothing to ex- 
 pect in the way of family and hereditary honors and dig- 
 nities ; with little, in short, either in possession or in pros- 
 spect, to give any particular inducement to be honest, it is 
 certain that, as a whole, the judges of this great republic 
 may lay claim to be classed among the most upright of 
 which history furnishes any accounts. Unhappily, popular 
 caprice, and popular ignorance, have been brought to bear 
 on the selection of the magistrates, of late ; and it is easy 
 to predict the result, which, like that on the militia, is soon 
 to pull down even this all-important machinery of society 
 to the level of the common mind. 
 
 Not only have the obvious and well-earned inducements 
 to keep men honest competence, honors, and security in 
 officebeen recklessly thrown away by the open hand of 
 popular delusion, but all the minor expedients, by which 
 those who cannot think might be made to feel, have been 
 laid aside, leaving the machinery of justice as naked as the 
 hand. Although the colonial system was never elaborated 
 in these last particulars, there were some of its useful and 
 respectable remains, down as late as the commencement 
 of the present century. The sheriff appeared with his 
 sword, the judge was escorted to and from the court-house 
 to his private dwelling with some show of attention and 
 respect, leaving a salutary impression of authority on the 
 ordinary observer. All this has disappeared. The judge 
 slips into the county-town almost unknown ; lives at an 
 inn amid a crowd of lawyers, witnesses, suitors, jurors, and 
 horse-shedders, as Timms calls them ; finds his way to the 
 bench as best he may ; and seems to think that the more 
 work he can do in the shortest time is the one great 
 purpose of his appointment. Nevertheless, these men, 
 as yet, are surprisingly incorrupt and intelligent. How 
 long it will remain so, no one can predict ; if it be for a 
 human life, however, the working of the problem will dem- 
 onstrate the fallibility of every appreciation of human 
 motives. One bad consequence of the depreciation of the 
 office of a magistrate, however, has long been apparent, in 
 the lessening of the influence of the judge on the juries ; 
 the power that alone renders the latter institution even 
 tolerable. This is putting an irresponsible, usually an ig- 
 
218 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR, 
 
 norant, and often corrupt arbiter, in the judgment seat, 
 in lieu of the man of high qualities, for which it was alone 
 intended. The Circuit and Oyer and Terminer for Dukes 
 presented nothing novel in its bench, its bar, its jurors, 
 and, we might add, its witnesses. The first was a cool- 
 headed, dispassionate man, with a very respectable amount 
 of legal learning and experience, and a perfectly fair char- 
 acter. No one suspected him of acting wrong from evil 
 motives ; and when he did err, it was ordinarily from the 
 pressure of business; though, occasionally, he was mistaken, 
 because the books could not foresee every possible phase of 
 a case. The bar was composed of plain, hard-working men, 
 materially above the level of Timms, except in connection 
 with mother-wit ; better educated, better mannered, and, 
 as a whole, of materially higher origin ; though, as a body, 
 neither profoundly learned nor of refined deportment. 
 Nevertheless, these persons had a very fair portion of all 
 the better qualities of the Northern professional men. 
 They were shrewd, quick in the application of their ac- 
 quired knowledge, ready in their natural resources, and 
 had that general aptitude for affairs that probably is the 
 fruit of a practice that includes all the different branches 
 of the profession. Here and there was a usurer and extor- 
 tioner among them ; a fellow who disgraced his calling by 
 running up unnecessary bills of cost, by evading the penal 
 statutes passed to prevent abuses of this nature, and by cun- 
 ning attempts to obtain more for the use of his money than 
 the law sanctioned. But such was not the general character 
 of the Dukes County bar, which was rather to be censured 
 for winking at irregular proceedings out of doors, for 
 brow-beating witnesses, and for regarding the end so in- 
 tensely as not always to be particular in reference to the 
 means, than for such gross and positively illegal and op- 
 pressive measures as those just mentioned. As for the 
 jurors, they were just what that ancient institution might 
 be supposed to be, in a country where so many of the 
 body of the people are liable to be summoned. An un- 
 usually large proportion of these men, when all the cir- 
 cumstances are considered, were perhaps as fit to be thus 
 employed as could be obtained from the body of the com- 
 munity of any country on earth ; but a very serious num- 
 ber were altogether unsuited to perform the delicate du- 
 ties of their station. Fortunately the ignorant are very 
 apt to be influenced by the more intelligent, in cases of 
 this nature ; and by this exercise of a very natural power, 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 219 
 
 less injustice is committed than might otherwise occur. 
 Here, however, is the opening for the " horse-shedding" 
 and " pillowing," of which Timms has spoken, and "of 
 which so much use is made around every country court- 
 house in the State. This is the crying evil of the times ; 
 and, taken in connection with the enormous abuse which 
 is rendering a competition in news a regular money-get- 
 ting occupation, one that threatens to set at defiance all 
 laws, principles, and facts. 
 
 A word remains to be said of the witnesses. Perhaps 
 the rarest thing connected with the administration of 
 justice all over the world, is an intelligent, perfectly im- 
 partial, clear-headed, discriminating witness ; one who 
 distinctly knows all he says, fully appreciates the effect of 
 his words on the jury, and who has the disposition to sub- 
 mit what he knows solely to the law and the evidence. 
 Men of experience are of opinion that an oath usually ex- 
 tracts the truth. We think so too, but it is truth as the 
 witness understands it ; facts as he has seen them ; and 
 opinions that, unconsciously to himself, have been warped 
 by reports, sneers and malice. In a country of popular 
 sway like this, there is not one man in a thousand, prob- 
 ably, who has sufficient independence of mind, or suffi- 
 cient moral courage, to -fancy he has seen even a fact, if it 
 be of importance, differently from what the body of the 
 community has seen it ; and nothing is more common than 
 to find witnesses coloring their testimony, lessening its 
 force by feeble statements, or altogether abandoning the 
 truth, under this pressure from without, in cases of a nat- 
 ure and magnitude to awake a strong popular feeling. It 
 is by no means uncommon, indeed, to persuade one class 
 of men, by means of this influence, that they did not see 
 that which actually occurred before their eyes, or that 
 they did see that which never had an existence. 
 
 Under no circumstances do men congregate with less 
 meritorious motives than in meeting in and around a court 
 of justice. The object is victory, and the means of obtain- 
 ing it will not always bear the light. The approaching 
 Circuit and Oyer and Terminer of Dukes was no excep- 
 tion to the rule ; a crowd of evil passions, of sinister prac- 
 tices, and of plausible pretences, being arrayed against 
 justice and the law in two-thirds of the causes on the cal- 
 endar. Then it was that Timms and Saucy Williams, or 
 Dick Williams, as he was familiarly termed by his asso- 
 ciates, came out in their strength, playing off against each 
 
220 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 other the out-door practices of the profession. The first 
 indication that the former now got of the very serious 
 character of the struggle that was about to take place be- 
 tween them was in the extraordinary civility of saucy 
 Williams when they met in the bar-room of the inn they 
 each frequented, and which had long been the arena of 
 their antagonistical wit and practices. 
 
 "I never saw you look better, Timms," said Williams, 
 in the most cordial manner imaginable ; "on the whole, I 
 do not remember to have ever seen you looking so well. 
 You grow younger instead of older, every day of your life. 
 By the way, do you intend to move on Butterfield against 
 Town this circuit ? " 
 
 " I should be glad to do it, if you are ready. Cross-no- 
 tices have been given, you know." 
 
 Williams knew this very well ; and he also knew that it 
 had been done to entitle the respective parties to costs, in 
 the event of anything occurring to give either side an ad- 
 vantage ; the cause being one of those nuts out of which 
 practitioners are very apt to extract the whole of the ker- 
 nel before they are done with it. 
 
 "Yes, I am aware of that, and I believe we are quite 
 ready. I see that Mr. Town is here, and I observe several 
 of his witnesses ; but I have so much business, I have no 
 wish to try a long slander cause ; words spoken in heat, 
 and never thought of again, but to make a profit of 
 them." 
 
 "You are employed against us in the murder case, I 
 hear ?" 
 
 " I rather think the friends of the deceased so regard it ; 
 but I have scarcely had time to look at the testimony be- 
 fore the coroner." This was a deliberate mystification, 
 and Timms perfectly understood it as such, well knowing 
 that the other had given the outdoor work of the case 
 nearly all of his time for the last fortnight " and I don't 
 like to move in one of these big matters without knowing 
 what I am about. Your senior counsel has not yet arrived 
 from town, I believe?" 
 
 " He cannot be here until Wednesday, having to argue 
 a great insurance case before the Superior Court to-day 
 and to-morrow." 
 
 This conversation occurred after the grand jury had 
 been charged, the petit jurors sworn, and the judge had 
 several motions for correcting the calendar, laying causes 
 over, etc., etc. Two hours later, the district attorney be- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 221 
 
 ing absent in his room, engaged with the grand jury, Wil- 
 liams arose, and addressed the court, which had just called 
 the first civil cause on the calendar. 
 
 "May it please the court," he said, coolly, but with the 
 grave aspect of a man who felt he was dealing with a very 
 serious matter" there is a capital indictment depending, 
 a case of arson and murder, which it is the intention of 
 the State to call on at once." 
 
 The judge looked still more grave than the counsel, and 
 it was v easy to see that he deeply regretted it should fall to 
 his lot to try such an issue. He leaned forward, with an 
 elbow on the very primitive sort of desk with which he 
 was furnished by the public, indented it with the point of 
 his knife, and appeared to be passing in review such of 
 the circumstances of this important case as he had become 
 acquainted with, judicially. We say "judicially ;" for it is 
 not an easy thing for either judge, counsel, or jurors, in 
 the state of society that now exists, to keep distinctly in 
 their minds that which has been obtained under legal 
 evidence, from that which floats about the community on 
 the thousand tongues of rumor fact from fiction. Never- 
 theless, the respectable magistrate whose misfortune it was 
 to preside on this very serious occasion, was a man to per- 
 form all his duty to the point where public opinion or 
 popular clamor is encountered. The last is a bugbear that 
 few have moral courage to face ; and the evil consequences 
 are visible, hourly, daily, almost incessantly, in most of 
 the interests of life. This popular feeling is the great 
 moving lever of the republic ; the wronged being placed 
 beneath the fulcrum, while the outer arm of the engine is 
 loaded with numbers. Thus it is that we see the oldest 
 families among us quietly robbed of their estates, after 
 generations of possession ; the honest man proscribed ; the 
 knave and demagogue deified ; mediocrity advanced to 
 high places ; and talents and capacity held in abeyance, if 
 not actually trampled under foot. Let the truth be said : 
 these are evils to which each year gives additional force, 
 until the tyranny of the majority has taken a form and 
 combination which, unchecked, must speedily place every 
 personal right at the mercy of plausible, but wrong-doing, 
 popular combinations. 
 
 "Has the prisoner been arraigned?" asked the judge. 
 " I remember nothing of the sort." 
 
 "No, your honor," answered Timms, now rising for the 
 first time in the discussion, and looking about him as if to 
 
222 THE IV AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 scan the crowd for witnesses. " The prosecution does not 
 yet know the plea we shall put in." 
 
 ''You are retained for the prisoner, Mr. Timms?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; I appear in her behalf. But Mr. Dunscomb 
 is also retained, and will be engaged in the New York Su- 
 perior Court until Wednesday, in an insurance case of 
 great magnitude." 
 
 " No insurance case can be of the magnitude of a trial 
 for life," returned Williams. "The justice of the State 
 must be vindicated, and the person of the citizen pro- 
 tected." 
 
 This sounded well, and it caused many a head in the 
 crowd, which contained both witnesses and jurors, to nod 
 with approbation. It is true that every thoughtful and 
 observant man must have had many occasions to observe 
 how fallacious such a declaration is in truth ; but it sounded 
 well, and the ears of the multitude are always open to flat- 
 tery. 
 
 "We have no wish to interfere with the justice of the 
 State, or with the protection of the citizen," answered 
 Timms, looking round to note the effect of his words 
 "our object is to defend the innocent ; and the great and 
 powerful community of New York will find more pleasure 
 in seeing an accused acquitted than in seeing fifty crimi- 
 nals condemned." 
 
 This sentiment sounded quite as well as that of Wil- 
 liams's, and heads were again nodded in approbation. It 
 told particularly well in a paragraph of a newspaper that 
 Timms had engaged to publish what he considered his best 
 remarks. 
 
 "It seems to me, gentlemen," interposed the judge, who 
 understood the meaning of these ad captandum remarks 
 perfectly well, "that your conversation is premature at 
 least, if not altogether improper. Nothing of this nature 
 should be said until the prisoner has been arraigned." 
 
 " I submit, your honor, and acknowledge the justice of 
 the reproof," answered Williams. " I now move the court, 
 on behalf of the district attorney, that Mary Monson, who 
 stands indicted for murder and arson, be arraigned, and her 
 pleas entered 
 
 " I could wish this step might be delayed until I can hear 
 from the leading counsel for the defence," objected Timms, 
 "which must now occur in the course of a very few hours." 
 
 " I perceive that the prisoner is a female," said the judge, 
 in a tone of regret. 
 
THE IV, I YS ()/<' 7 'III-. HOUR. 223 
 
 "Yes, your honor, she is, and young and handsome, they 
 tell me," answered Williams ; " for I have never been able 
 to get a sight of her. She is too much of a great lady to 
 be seen at a grate, by all I can learn of her and her pro- 
 ceedings. Plays on the harp, sir ; has a French valet de 
 chambre, or something of that sort 
 
 "This is all wrong, Mr. Williams, and must be checked," 
 again interposed the judge, though very mildly ; for, while 
 his experience taught him that the object of such remarks 
 was to create prejudice, and his conscience prompted him 
 to put an end to a proceeding so unrighteous, he stood in 
 so much awe of this particular counsel, who had half a 
 dozen presses at his command, that it required a strong 
 inducement to bring him out, as he ought to be, in oppo- 
 sition to any of his more decided movements. As for the 
 community, with the best intentions as a whole, it stood 
 passive under this gross wrong. What is " everybody's 
 business " is literally " nobody's business," when the public 
 virtue is the great moving power ; the upright preferring 
 their ease to everything else, and the ill-disposed manifest- 
 ing the ceaseless activity of the wicked. All the ancient 
 barriers to this species of injustice, which have been erected 
 by the gathered wisdom of our fathers and the experience 
 of ages, have been thrown down by the illusions of a seem- 
 ing liberty, and the whole machinery of justice is left very 
 much at the mercy of an outside public opinion, which, in 
 itself, is wielded by a few of the worst men in the country. 
 These are sober truths, as a close examination will show to 
 any one who may choose to enter into the investigation of 
 the ungrateful subject. It is not what is said> we very well 
 know ; but it is what is done. 
 
 Williams received the mild rebuke of the judge like one 
 who felt his position ; paying very little respect to its spirit 
 or its letter. He knew his own power, and understood per- 
 fectly well that this particular magistrate was soon to run 
 for a new term of office, and might be dealt with more 
 freely on that account. 
 
 " I know it is very wrong, your honor very wrong " 
 rejoined the wily counsel to what had been said "so 
 wrong, that I regard it as an insult to the State. When a 
 person is capitally indicted, man or woman, it is his or her 
 bounden duty to put all overboard, that there may be no 
 secrets. The harp was once a sacred instrument, and it is 
 highly improper to introduce it into our jails and criminals' 
 cells " 
 
224 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 ** There is no criminal as yet no crime can be estab- 
 lished without proof, and the verdict of twelve good men 
 and true," interrupted Timms "I object, therefore, to the 
 learned counsel's remarks, and 
 
 " Gentlemen, gentlemen," put in the judge, a little more 
 pointedly than in his former rebuke " this is all wrong, I 
 repeat." 
 
 "You perceive, my brother Timms," rejoined the indom- 
 itable Williams, " the court is altogether against you. This 
 is not a country of lords and ladies, fiddles and harps, but 
 of the people j and when the people find a bill for a capital 
 offence, capital care should be taken not to give more 
 offence." 
 
 Williams had provided himself with a set of supporters 
 that are common enough in the courts, whose business it 
 was to grin, and sneer, and smile, and look knowing at 
 particular hits of the counsel, and otherwise to back up 
 his wit, and humor, and logic, by the agency of sympathy. 
 This expedient is getting to be quite common, and is con- 
 stantly practised in suits that relate in any manner to poli- 
 tics or political men. It is not so common, certainly, in 
 trials for life ; though it may be, and has been, used with 
 effect even on such serious occasions. The influence of 
 these wily demonstrations, which are made to have the ap- 
 pearance of public opinion, is very great on the credulous 
 and ignorant ; men thus narrowly gifted invariably look- 
 ing around them to find support in the common mind. 
 
 The hits of Williams told, to Timms's great annoyance ; 
 nor did he know exactly how to parry them. Had he 
 been the assailant himself, he could have wielded the 
 weapons of his antagonist with equal, skill; but his dex- 
 terity was very much confined to the offensive in cases of 
 this nature ; for he perfectly comprehended all the preju- 
 dices on which it was necessary to act, while he possessed 
 but a very narrow knowledge of the means of correcting 
 them. Nevertheless, it would not do to let the prosecu- 
 tion close the business of the day with so much of the air 
 of triumph, and the indomitable attorney made another 
 effort to place his client more favorably before the public 
 eye. 
 
 " The harp is a most religious instrument," he coolly ob- 
 served, " and it has no relation to the violin, or any light 
 and frivolous piece of music. David used it as the instru- 
 ment of praise, and why should not a person who stands 
 charged " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 225 
 
 " I have told you, gentlemen, that all this is irregular, 
 and cannot be permitted," cried the judge, with a little 
 more of the appearance of firmness than he had yet ex- 
 hibited. 
 
 The truth was, that he stood less in fear of Timms than 
 of Williams ; the connection of the last with the reporters 
 being known to be much the most extensive. But Timms 
 knew his man, and understood very well what the com- 
 mittal of counsel had got to be, under the loose notions 
 of liberty that have grown up in the country within the 
 last twenty years. Time was, and that at no remote period, 
 when the lawyer who had been thus treated for indecorum 
 at the bar would have been a disgraced man, and would 
 have appealed in vain to the community for sympathy ; 
 little or none would he have received. Men then under- 
 stood that the law was their master, established by them- 
 selves, and was to be respected accordingly. But that 
 feeling is in a great measure extinct. Liberty is every 
 hour getting to be more and more personal ; its concen- 
 tration consisting in rendering every man his own legisla- 
 tor, his own judge, and his own juror. It is monarchical 
 and aristocratic, and all that is vile and dangerous, to see 
 power exercised by any but the people ; and those whom 
 the constitution and the laws have set apart expressly to 
 discharge a delegated authority being obliged, by clamors 
 sustained by all the arts of cupidity and fraud, to defer to 
 the passing opinions of the hour. No one knew this bet- 
 ter than Timms, who had just as lively a recollection as 
 his opponent that this very judge was to come before the 
 people in the next autumn, as a candidate for re-election. 
 The great strain of American foresight was consequently 
 applied to this man's conscience, who, overworked and 
 under-paid, was expected to rise above the weaknesses of 
 humanity, as a sort of sublimated political theory that is 
 getting to be much in fashion, and which, // true, would 
 supersede the necessity of any court or any government 
 at all. Timms knew this well, and was not to be restrained 
 by one who was thus stretched, as it might be, on the ten- 
 ter-hooks of political uncertainty. 
 
 "Yes, your honor," returned this indomitable individual, 
 " I am fully aware of its impropriety, and was just as much 
 so when the counsel for the prosecution was carrying it 
 on to the injury of my client ; I might say almost un- 
 checked, if not encouraged." 
 
 "The court did its best to stop Mr. Williams, sir ; and 
 
226 THE WAYS Ofi THE HOUR. 
 
 must do the same to keep you within the proper limits oi 
 practice. Unless these improprieties are restrained I shall 
 confine the counsel for the State to the regular officer, 
 and assign new counsel to the accused, as from the court." 
 
 Both Williams and Timms looked amused at this men- 
 ace, neither having the smallest notion the judge dare put 
 such a threat in execution. What ! presume to curb 
 licentiousness when it chose to assume the aspect of hu- 
 man rights ? This was an act behind the age, more espe- 
 cially in a country in which liberty is so fast getting to be 
 all means, with so very little regard to the end. 
 
 A desultory conversation ensued, when it was finally 
 settled that the trial must be postponed until the arrival 
 of the counsel expected from town. From the beginning 
 of the discussion, Williams knew that such must be the 
 termination of that day's work ; but he had accomplished 
 two great objects by his motion. In the first place, by 
 conceding delay to the accused it placed the prosecution 
 on ground where a similar favor might be asked, should it 
 be deemed expedient. This resisting motions for delay is 
 a common ruse of the bar, since it places the party whose 
 rights are seemingly postponed in a situation to demand a 
 similar concession. Williams knew that his case was ready 
 as related to his brief, the testimony, and all that could 
 properly be produced in court, but he thought it might be 
 strengthened out of doors, among the jurors and witnesses. 
 We say the witnesses, because even this class of men get 
 their impressions, quite frequently, as much from what 
 they subsequently hear, as from what they have seen and 
 known. A good reliable witness, who relates no more 
 than he actually knows, conceals nothing, colors nothing, 
 and leaves a perfectly fair impression of the truth, is per- 
 haps the rarest of all the parties concerned in the admin- 
 istration of justice. No one understood this better than 
 Williams ; and his agents were, at that very moment, ac- 
 tively employed in endeavoring to persuade certain indi- 
 viduals that they knew a great deal more of the facts con- 
 nected with the murders than the truth would justify. 
 This was not done openly or directly ; not in a way to 
 alarm the consciences or pride of those who were to be 
 duped, but by the agency of hints, and suggestions, and 
 plausible reasonings, and all the other obvious devices, by 
 means of which the artful and unprincipled are enabled 
 to act on the opinions of the credulous and inexperi 
 enced. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 225 
 
 While all these secret engines were at work in the streets 
 of Biberry the external machinery of justice was set in 
 motion with the usual forms. Naked, but business-like, 
 the blind goddess was invoked with what is termed " re- 
 publican simplicity," one of the great principles of which, 
 in some men's estimation, is to get the maximum of work 
 at the minimum of cost. We are no advocates for the 
 senseless parade and ruthless expenditure ruthless, be- 
 cause extracted from the means of the poor with which 
 the governments of the old world have invested their dig- 
 nity ; and we believe that the reason of men may be con- 
 fided in, in managing these matters, to a certain extent ; 
 though not to the extent that it would seem to be the 
 fashion of the American theories, to be desirable. Wigs 
 of all kinds, even when there is a deficiency of hair, we 
 hold in utter detestation ; and we shall maintain that no 
 more absurd scheme of clothing the human countenance 
 with terror was ever devised than to clothe it with flax. 
 Nevertheless, as comfort, decency, and taste unite in rec- 
 ommending clothing of some sort or other, we do not see 
 why the judicial functionary should not have his appro- 
 priate attire as well as the soldier, the sailor, or the priest. 
 It does not necessarily follow that extravagances are to be 
 imitated if we submit to this practice ; though we incline 
 to the opinion that a great deal of the nakedness of " re- 
 publican simplicity," which has got to be a sort of political 
 idol in the land, has its origin in a spirit that denounces 
 the past as a species of moral sacrifice to the present time. 
 
 Let all this be as it may, it is quite certain that u repub- 
 lican simplicity " the slang lever by means of which the 
 artful move the government has left the administration 
 of justice among us, so far as externals are concerned, as 
 naked as may be. Indeed, so much have the judges become 
 exposed to sinister influences, by means of the intimacies 
 with which they are invested by means of " republican 
 simplicity," that it has been found expedient to make a 
 special provision against undue modes of approaching 
 their ears, all of which would have been far more effi- 
 ciently secured by doubling their salaries, making a re- 
 spectable provision for old age in the way of pensions, and 
 surrounding them with such forms as would keep the evil 
 disposed at reasonable distance. Neither Timms nor 
 " saucy Williams," however, reasoned in this fashion. 
 They were, in a high degree, practical men, and saw 
 things as they are ; not as they ought to be. Little was 
 
228 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 either troubled with theories, regrets, or principles. It 
 was enough for each that he was familiar with the work- 
 ings of the system under which he lived ; and which he 
 knew how to pervert in a way the most likely to effect his 
 own purposes. 
 
 The reader may be surprised at the active pertinacity 
 with which Williams pursued one on trial for her life ; a 
 class of persons with whom the bar usually professes to 
 deal tenderly and in mercy. But the fact was that he had 
 been specially retained by the next of kin, who had large 
 expectations from the abstracted hoards of his aunt ; and 
 that the fashion of the day had enabled him to achieve 
 such a cent per cent bargain with his client, as caused his 
 own compensation altogether to depend on the measure 
 of his success. Should Mary Monson be sentenced to the 
 gallows it was highly probable her revelations would put 
 the wronged in the way of being righted, when this limb 
 of the law would, in all probability, come in for a full 
 share of the recovered gold. How different all this was 
 from the motives and conduct of Dunscomb, the reader 
 will readily perceive ; for, while the profession in this 
 country abounds with Williamses and Timmses, men of 
 the highest tone of feeling, the fairest practice, and the 
 clearest perceptions of what is right, are by no means 
 strangers to the bar. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Thou hast already racked me with thy stay ; 
 Therefore require me not to ask thee twice : 
 Reply at once to all. What is concluded ? 
 
 Mourning Bride. 
 
 DURING the interval between the occurrence of the scene 
 in court that has just been related, and the appearance of 
 Dunscomb at Biberry, the community was rapidly taking 
 sides on the subject of the guilt or innocence of Mary 
 Monson. The windows of the jail were crowded all day ; 
 throngs collecting there to catch glimpses of the extraor- 
 dinary female, who was rightly enough reported to be liv- 
 ing in a species of luxury in so unusual a place, and who 
 was knwn to play on an instrument that the popular 
 mind was a good deal disposed to regard as sacred. As a 
 matter of course, a hundred stories were in circulation, 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 229 
 
 touching the character, history, sayings, and doings of 
 this remarkable person, that had no foundation whatever 
 in truth ; for it is an infirmity of human nature to circu- 
 late and place its belief in falsehoods of this sort ; and 
 more especially of human nature as it is exhibited in a 
 country where care has been taken to stimulate the curi- 
 osity of the vulgar, without exactly placing them in a 
 condition to appease its longings, either intelligently or 
 in a very good taste. 
 
 This interest would have been manifested, in such a 
 case, had there been no particular moving cause ; but the 
 secret practices of Williams and Timms greatly increased 
 its intensity, and was bringing the population of Dukes to 
 a state of excitement that was very little favorable to an 
 impartial administration of justice. Discussions had taken 
 place at every corner, and in all the bar-rooms ; and many 
 were the alleged facts connected with the murders, which 
 had their sole existence in rumor, that was adduced in 
 the heat of argument, or to make out a suppositious case. 
 All this time, Williams was either in court, attending 
 closely to his different causes, or was seen passing be- 
 tween the court-house and the tavern, with bundles of 
 papers under his arms, like a man absorbed in business. 
 Timms played a very similar part, though he found leisure 
 to hold divers conferences with several of his confidential 
 agents. Testimony was his aim ; and, half a dozen time% 
 when he fancied himself on the point of establishing 
 something new and important, the whole of the ingenious 
 fabric he had reared came tumbling about his ears, in 
 consequence of some radical defect in the foundation. 
 
 Such was the state of things on the evening of Wednes- 
 day, the day preceding that which had been set down for 
 the trial, when the stage arrived bringing " Squire Duns- 
 comb," his carpet-bags, his trunk, and his books. McBrain 
 shortly after drove up in his own carriage, and Anna was 
 soon in her mother's arms. The excitement, so general in 
 the place, had naturally enough extended to these females ; 
 and Mrs. McBrain and her daughter were soon closeted, 
 talking over the affair of Mary Monsort. 
 
 About eight that evening, Dunscomb and Timms were 
 busy looking over minutes of testimony, briefs, and other 
 written documents that were connected with the approach- 
 ing trial. Mrs. Horton had reserved the best room in her 
 house for this distinguished counsel ; an apartment in a 
 wing that was a good deal removed from the noise and 
 
230 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 bustle of a leading inn, during a circuit. Here Dunscomb 
 had been duly installed, and here he early set up " his traps," 
 as he termed his flesh-brushes, sponges, briefs, and calfskin- 
 covered volumes. Two tallow candles threw a dim, lawyer- 
 like light on the scene ; while unrolled paper-curtains shut 
 out as much of night as such an imperfect screen could 
 exclude. The odor of cigars excellent Havanas, by the 
 way was fragrant in the place ; and one of the little foun- 
 tains of smoke was stuck knowingly in a corner of the 
 eminent counsel's mouth, while Timms had garnished his 
 skinny lips with the short stump of a pipe. Neither said 
 anything ; one of the parties presenting documents that 
 the other read in silence. Such was the state of matters, 
 when a slight tap at the door was succeeded by the unex- 
 pected appearance of "saucy Williams." Timms started, 
 gathered together all his papers with the utmost care, and 
 awaited the explanation of this unlooked-for visit with the 
 most lively curiosity. Dunscomb, on the other hand, re- 
 ceived his guest with urbanity, and like one who felt that 
 the wrangling of the bar, in which, by the way, he had too 
 much self-respect and good temper to indulge, had no nec- 
 essary connection with the courtesies of private life. 
 
 Williams had scarcely a claim superior to those of 
 Timms, to be considered a gentleman ; though he had the 
 advantage of having been what is termed liberally edu- 
 ated a phrase of very doubtful import, when put to the 
 test of old-fashioned notions on such subjects. In man- 
 ners, he had the defects, and we may add the merits, of 
 the school in which he had been educated. All that 
 had been said of Timms on this subject, in the way of 
 censure, was equally applicable to Williams ; but the last 
 possessed self-command, an admirable reliance on his own 
 qualities, which would have fittted him, as regards this 
 one quality, to be an emperor. Foreigners wonder at the 
 self-possession of Americans in the presence of the great ; 
 and it is really one of the merits of the institution that it 
 causes every person to feel that he is a man, and entitled 
 to receive the treatment due to a being so high in the 
 scale of earthly creations. It is true, that this feeling of- 
 ten degenerates into a vulgar and oversensitive jealousy, 
 frequently rendering its possessor exacting and ridiculous ; 
 but on the whole, the effect is manly, not to say ennobling. 
 
 Now Williams was self-possessed by nature, as well as 
 by association and education. Though keenly alive to the 
 differences and chances of fortune, he never succumbed to 
 
THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 23! 
 
 mere rank and wealth. Intriguing by disposition, not to 
 say by education, he could affect a deference he did not 
 feel ; but, apart from the positive consequences of power, 
 he was not to be daunted by the presence of the most 
 magnificent sovereign who ever reigned. No wonder, 
 then, that he felt quite at home in the company of his 
 present host, though fully aware that he was one of the 
 leading members of the New York bar. As a proof of this 
 independence may be cited the fact that he had no sooner 
 paid his salutations and been invited to be seated, than he 
 deliberately selected a cigar from the open box of Duns- 
 comb, lighted it, took a chair, raised one leg coolly on the 
 corner of a table, and began to smoke. 
 
 "The calendar is a little crowded," observed this free- 
 and-easy visitor, "and is likely to carry us over into the 
 middle of next week. Are you retained in Daniels against 
 Fireman's Insurance?" 
 
 " I am not a brief was offered by the plaintiff, but 1 
 declined taking it." 
 
 "A little conscientious, I suppose. Well, I leave all the 
 sin of my suits on the shoulders of my clients. It is bad 
 enough to listen to their griefs, without being called on to 
 smart for them. I have heard you are in Cogswell against 
 Davidson ? " 
 
 "In that cause I have been retained. I may as well say, 
 at once, we intend to move it on." 
 
 "It's of no great moment if you beat us at the circuit, 
 our turn will come on execution." 
 
 "I believe, Mr. Williams, your clients have a knack at 
 gaining the day in that mode. It is of no great interest 
 to me, however, as I rarely take the management of a 
 cause after it quits the courts." 
 
 " How do you like the Code, Brother Dunscomb ?" 
 
 " Damnable, sir. I am too old, in the first place, to like 
 change. Then change from bad to worse is adding folly 
 to imbecility. The Common Law practice had its faults, 
 I allow ; but this new system has no merits." 
 
 " I do not go as far as that ; and I rather begin to like 
 the new plan of remuneration. We are nothing out of 
 pocket, and sometimes are a handsome sum in. You de- 
 fend Mary Monson ? " 
 
 Timms felt assured that his old antagonist had now 
 reached the case that had really brought him to the room. 
 He fidgeted, looked eagerly round to see that no stray 
 paper could fall beneath the hawk-like eye of the other 
 
232 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 party, and then sat in comparative composure, waiting the 
 result. 
 
 "I do," Dunscomb quietly replied; "and I shall do it 
 con amore I suppose you know what that means, Mr. 
 Williams ? " 
 
 A sarcastic smile passed over the steeled countenance 
 of the other, his appearance being literally sardonic for an 
 instant. 
 
 " I presume I do. We know enough Latin in Dukes to 
 get along with such a quotation ; though our friend Timms 
 here despises the classics. ' Con amore ' means in this in- 
 stance, 'a lover's zeal,' I suppose ; for they tell me that all 
 who approach the criminal submit to her power to charm." 
 
 "The accused, if you please," put in the opposing at- 
 torney ; " but no criminal, until the word ' guilty ' has been 
 pronounced." 
 
 " I am convicted. They say you are to be the happy 
 man, Timms, in the event of an acquittal. It is reported 
 all over the county, that you are to become Mr. Monson as 
 a reward for your services ; and if half that I hear be true, 
 you will deserve her, with a good estate in the bargain." 
 
 Here Williams laughed heartily at his own wit ; but 
 Dunscomb looked grave, while his associate counsel looked 
 angry. In point of fact the nail had been hit on the head ; 
 and consciousness lighted the spirit within, with its calm, 
 mild glow. The senior counsel was too proud and too 
 dignified to make any reply; but Timms was troubled with 
 no such feeling. 
 
 "If there are any such rumors in old Dukes," retorted 
 the last, " it will not need mesmerism to discover their 
 author. In my opinion, the people ought to carry on 
 their suits in a spirit of liberality and justice ; and not in 
 a vindictive, malicious temper." 
 
 "We are all of the same way of thinking," answered 
 Williams, with a sneer. "I consider it liberal to give you 
 a handsome young woman with a full purse ; though no 
 one can say how, or by whom, it has been filled. By the 
 way, Mr. Dunscomb, I am instructed to make a proposal 
 to you ; and as Timms is in the court, this may be as good 
 a moment as another to present it for consideration. My 
 offer is from the nephew, next of kin, and sole heir of the 
 late Peter Goodwin ; by whom, as you probably know, I 
 am retained. This gentleman is well assured that his de- 
 ceased relatives had a large sum in gold by them, at the 
 time of the murders " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 233 
 
 " No verdict has yet shown that there have been any 
 murders at all," interrupted Tim ins. 
 
 "We have the verdict of the inquest, begging your par- 
 don, brother Timms that is something, surely ; though 
 not enough, quite likely, to convince your mind. But, to 
 proceed with my proposition : My client is well assured 
 that such a secret fund existed. He also knows that your 
 client, gentlemen, is flush of money, and money in gold 
 coins that correspond with many pieces that have been 
 seen by different individuals in the possession of our 
 aunt " 
 
 "Ay, eagles and half-eagles," interrupted Timms "a 
 resemblance that comes from the stamp of the mint." 
 
 "Go on with your proposition, Mr. Williams," said 
 Dunscomb. 
 
 "We offer to withdraw all our extra counsel, myself in- 
 cluded, and to leave the case altogether with the State, 
 which is very much the same thing as an acquittal ; provided 
 you will return^ us five thousand dollars in this gold coin. 
 Not pay, for that might be compounding a felony ; but 
 return" 
 
 "There could be no compounding a felony, if the indict- 
 ment be not quashed, but traversed," said the senior coun- 
 sel for the defence. 
 
 "Very true; but we prefer the word 'return.' That 
 leaves everything clear, and will enable us to face the 
 county. Our object is to get our rights let the State 
 take care of its justice for itself." 
 
 "You can hardly expect that such a proposition should 
 be accepted, Williams?" 
 
 "I am not so sure of that, Timms; life is sweeter than 
 money even. I should like to hear the answer of your as- 
 sociate, however. You, I can see, have no intention of 
 lessening the marriage portion, if it can be helped." 
 
 Such side-hits were so common in court, as between 
 these worthies, that neither thought much of them out of 
 court. But Williams gave a signal proof of the acuteness 
 of his observation, when he expressed a wish to know in 
 what light his proposal was viewed by Dunscomb. That 
 learned gentleman evidently paid more respect to the offer 
 than had been manifested by his associate ; and now sat 
 silently ruminating on its nature. Thus directly appealed 
 to, he felt the necessity of giving some sort of an answer. 
 
 "You have come expressly to make this proposition to 
 us, Mr. Williams ? " Dunscomb demanded. 
 
234 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "To be frank with you, sir, such is the main object oi 
 my visit." 
 
 " Of course it is sanctioned by your client, and you speak 
 by authority?" 
 
 " It is fully sanctioned by my client, who would greatly 
 prefer the plan ; and I act directly by his written instruc- 
 tions. Nothing short of these would induce me to make 
 the proposition." 
 
 " Very well, sir. Will an answer by ten o'clock this 
 evening meet your views ? " 
 
 " Perfectly so. An answer at any time between this 
 and the sitting of the court to-morrow morning will fully 
 meet our views. The terms, however, cannot be dimin- 
 ished. Owing to the shortness of the time, it may be well 
 to understand that." 
 
 "Then, Mr. Williams, I ask a little time for reflection 
 and consultation. We may meet again to-night." 
 
 The other assented, rose, coolly helped himself to an- 
 other cigar, and had got as far as the door, when an ex- 
 pressive gesture from Timms induced hirn to pause. 
 
 "Let us understand each other," said the last, with 
 emphasis. " Is this a truce, with a complete cessation of 
 hostilities ; or is it only a negotiation to be carried on in 
 the midst of war?" 
 
 "I hardly comprehend your meaning, Mr. Timms. The 
 question is simply one of taking certain forces allied 
 forces, they may be called from the field, and leaving 
 you to contend only with the main enemy. There need 
 be nothing said of a truce, since nothing further can be 
 done until the court opens." 
 
 " That may do very well, Williams, for those that haven't 
 
 Eractised in Dukes as long as myself ; but it will not do 
 )r me. There is an army of reporters here, at this mo- 
 ment ; and I am afraid that the allies of whom you speak 
 have whole corps of skirmishers." 
 
 Williams maintained a countenance so unmoved that 
 even the judicious Timms was a little shaken ; while Duns- 
 comb, who had all the reluctance of a gentleman to be- 
 lieve in an act of meanness, felt outraged by his associate's 
 suspicions. 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Timms," the last exclaimed, " I beg 
 we may have no more of this. Mr. Williams has come 
 with a proposition worthy of our consideration ; let us 
 meet it in the spirit in which it is offered." 
 
 "Yes," repeated Williams, with a look that might welJ 
 
77//i WAYS OF THE HOUR. 235 
 
 have explained his sobriquet of "saucy;" "yes, in the 
 spirit in which it is offered. What do you say to that, 
 Timms?" 
 
 "That I shall manage the defence precisely as if no such 
 proposition had been made, or any negotiation accepted. 
 You can do the same for the prosecution." 
 
 "Agreed!" Williams rejoined, making a sweeping gest- 
 ure with his hand, and immediately quitting the room. 
 
 Dunscomb was silent for a minute. A thread of smoke 
 arose from the end of his cigar ; but the volume no longer 
 poured from between his lips. He was ruminating too in- 
 tensely even to smoke. Rising suddenly, he took his hat, 
 and motioned toward the door. 
 
 " Timms, we must go to the jail," he said ; " Mary Mon- 
 son must be spoken to at once." 
 
 " If Williams had made his proposition ten days ago, 
 there might be some use in listening to it," returned the 
 junior, following the senior counsel from the room, carry- 
 ing all the papers in the cause under an arm ; "but, now 
 that all the mischief is done, it would be throwing away 
 five thousand dollars to listen to his proposition." 
 
 " We will see we will see," answered the other, hurry- 
 ing down-stairs " what means the rumpus in that room, 
 Timms ? Mrs. Horton has not treated me well, to place a 
 troublesome neighbor so near me. I shall stop and tell 
 her as much, as we go through the hall." 
 
 "You had better not, squire. We want all our friends 
 just now ; and a sharp word might cause us to lose this 
 woman, who has a devil of a tongue. She tells me that a 
 crazy man was brought here privately ; and, being well 
 paid' for it, she has consented to give him what she calls 
 her ' drunkard's parlor,' until the court has settled his af- 
 fairs. His room, like your own, is so much out of the way, 
 that the poor fellow gives very little trouble to the great 
 body of the boarders." 
 
 " Ay, very little trouble to you, and the rest of you, in 
 the main building ; but a great deal to me. I shall speak 
 to Mrs. Horton on the subject, as we pass out." 
 
 " Better not, squire. The woman is our friend now, I 
 know ; but a warm word may turn her to the right-about." 
 
 It is probable Dunscomb was influenced by his compan- 
 ion ; for he left the house without putting his threat into 
 execution. In a few minutes he and Timms were at the 
 jail. As counsel could not well be refused admission to 
 their client on the eve of trial, the two lawyers were ad- 
 
236 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 mitted to the gallery within the outer door that has been 
 so often mentioned. Of course, Mary Monson was notified 
 of the visit ; and she received them with Anna Updyke, 
 the good, gentle, considerate Anna, who was ever disposed 
 to help the weak and to console the unhappy, at her side. 
 Dunscomb had no notion that the intimacy had grown to 
 this head ; but when he came to reflect that one of the 
 parties was to be tried for her life next day, he was dis- 
 posed to overlook the manifest indiscretion of his old 
 favorite in being in such a place. Mrs. McBrain's presence 
 released him from all responsibility ; and he returned the 
 warm pressure of Anna's hand in kindness, if not with pos- 
 itive approbation. As for the girl herself, the very sight 
 of " Uncle Tom," as she had so long been accustomed to 
 call the counsellor, cheered her heart, and raised new hopes 
 in behalf of her friend. 
 
 In a few clear, pointed words, Dunscomb let the motive 
 of his visit be known. There was little time to throw away, 
 and he went directly at his object, stating everything suc- 
 cinctly, but in the most intelligible manner. Nothing could 
 have been more cairn than the manner in W 7 hich Mary 
 Monson listened to his statement ; her deportment being 
 as steady as that of one sitting in judgment herself, rather 
 than that of a person whose own fate was involved in the 
 issue. 
 
 " It is a large sum to raise in so short a time," continued 
 the kind-hearted Dunscomb ; " but I deem the proposition 
 so important to your interest, that, rather than lose this 
 advantage, I would not hesitate about advancing the money 
 myself, should you be unprepared for so heavy a demand. " 
 
 "As respects the money, Mr. Dunscomb," returned the 
 fair prisoner, in the most easy and natural manner, "that 
 need give us no concern. By sending a confidential mes- 
 senger to town Mr. John Wilmeter, for instance" here 
 Anna pressed less closely to her friend's side "it would 
 be very easy to have five hundred eagles or a thousand 
 half-eagles here, by breakfast-time to-morrow. It is not 
 on account of any such difficulty that I hesitate a moment. 
 What I dislike is the injustice of the thing. I have never 
 touched a cent of poor Mrs. Goodwin's hoard ; and it would 
 be false to admit that I am returning that which I never 
 received." 
 
 " We must not be particular, ma'am, on immaterial 
 points, when there is so much at stake." 
 
 " It may be immaterial whether I pay money under one 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 237 
 
 form or another, Mr. Dunscomb ; but it cannot be immate- 
 rial to my future standing, whether! am acquitted in the 
 teeth of this Mr. Williams's opposition, or under favor of 
 his purchase." 
 
 " Acquitted ! Our case is not absolutely clear, Miss 
 Monson it is my duty to tell you as much ! " 
 
 " I understand such to be the opinion of both Mr. Timms 
 and yourself, sir ; I like the candor of your conduct, but 
 am not converted to your way of thinking. I shall be 
 acquitted, gentlemen yes, honorably, triumphant!/ ac- 
 quitted ; and I cannot consent to lessen the impression of 
 such a termination to my affair, by putting myself in the 
 way of being even suspected of a collusion with a man like 
 this saucy Williams. It is far better to meet him openly, 
 and to defy him to do his worst. Perhaps some such trial, 
 followed by complete success, will be necessary to my 
 future happiness." 
 
 Anna now pressed nearer to the side of her friend ; pass- 
 ing an arm, unconsciously to herself, around her waist. 
 As for Dunscomb, he gazed at the handsome prisoner in a 
 sort of stupefied wonder. The place, the hour, the busi- 
 ness of the succeeding day, and all the accessories of the 
 scene, had an effect to increase the confusion of his mind, 
 and, for the moment, to call in question the fidelity of his 
 senses. As he gazed at the prison-like aspect of the gal- 
 lery, his eye fell on the countenance of Marie Moulin, and 
 resteci there in surprise for half a minute. The Swiss maid 
 was looking earnestly at her mistress, with an expression 
 of concern and of care so intense, that it caused the coun- 
 sellor to search for their cause. For the first time it flashed 
 on his mind that Mary Monson might be a lunatic, and 
 that the defence so often set up in capital cases as to weary 
 the common mind, might be rendered justly available in 
 this particular instance. The whole conduct of this serv- 
 ing-woman had been so singular ; the deportment of Mary 
 Monson herself was so much out of the ordinary rules ; 
 and the adhesion of Anna Updyke, a girl of singular pru- 
 dence of conduct, notwithstanding her disposition to 
 enthusiasm, so marked, that the inference was far from un- 
 natural. Nevertheless, Mary Monson had never looked 
 more calm, more intellectual ; never manifested more of a 
 mien of high intelligence, than at that very instant The 
 singular illumination of the countenance to which we have 
 had occasion already to allude, was conspicuous, but it was 
 benignant and quiet ; and the flush of the cheeks added 
 
238 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 lustre to her eyes. Then the sentiments expressed were 
 just and noble, free from the cunning and mendacity of a 
 maniac ; and such as any man might be proud to have the 
 wife of his bosom entertain. All these considerations 
 quickly chased the rising distrust from Dunscomb's mind, 
 and his thoughts reverted to the business that had brought 
 him there. 
 
 " You are the best judge, ma'am, of what will most con- 
 tribute to your happiness," rejoined the counsellor, after a 
 brief pause. "In the ignorance in which we are kept of 
 the past, I might well add, the only judge ; though it is 
 possible that your female companions know more, in this 
 respect, than your legal advisers. It is proper I should 
 say, once more, and probably for the last time, that your 
 case will be greatly" prejudiced unless you enable us to 
 dwell on your past life freely and truly." 
 
 " I am accused of murdering an unoffending female and 
 her husband ; of setting fire to the dwelling, and of rob- 
 bing them of their gold. These are accusations that can 
 properly be answered only by a complete acquittal, after 
 a solemn investigation. No half-way measures will do. 
 I must be found not guilty, or a blot rests on my character 
 for life. My position is singular I had almost said 
 cruel in some respects owing to my own wilfulness 
 
 Here Anna Updyke pressed closer to her friend's side, 
 as if she would defend her against these self-accusations ; 
 while Marie Moulin dropped her needle, and listened with 
 the liveliest curiosity. 
 
 " In many respects, perhaps," continued Mary, after a 
 short pause, "and I must take the consequences. Wilful- 
 ness has ever been my greatest enemy. It has been fed 
 by perfect independence and too much money. I doubt 
 if it be good for woman to be thus tried. We were created 
 for dependence, Mr. Dunscomb ; dependence on our 
 fathers, on our brothers, and perhaps on our husbands 
 here there was another pause ; and the cheeks of the fair 
 speaker flushed, while her eyes became brilliant to light. 
 
 "Perhaps!" repeated the counsellor, with solemn 
 emphasis. 
 
 " I know that men think differently from us on this 
 subject 
 
 " From us do you desire me to believe that most women 
 wish to be independent of their husbands ! Ask the young 
 woman at your side, if that be her feeling of the duties of 
 her sex." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 239 
 
 Anna dropped her head on her bosom, and blushed 
 scarlet. In all her day-dreams of happiness with John 
 Wilmeter, the very reverse of the feeling now alluded to, 
 had been uppermost in her mind ; and to her nothing had 
 ever seemed half as sweet as the picture of leaning on him 
 for support, guidance, authority, and advice. The thought 
 of independence would have been painful to her ; for a 
 principle of nature, the instinct of her sex, taught her that 
 the part of woman was "to love, honor, and obey." As 
 for Mary Monson, she quailed a little before the severe 
 eye of Dunscomb ; but education, the accidents of life, and 
 possibly a secret principle of her peculiar temperament, 
 united to stimulate her to maintain her original ground. 
 
 " I know not what may be the particular notions of Miss 
 Updyke," returned this singular being, "but I can feel 
 my own longings. They are all for independence. Men 
 have not dealt fairly by women. Possessing the power, 
 they have made all the laws, fashioned all the opinions of 
 the world, in their own favor. Let a woman err, and she 
 can never rise from her fall ; while men live with im- 
 punity in the midst of their guilt. If a woman think 
 differently from those around her, she is expected to con 
 ceal her opinions, in order to receive those of her masters. 
 Even in the worship of God, the highest and most pre- 
 cious of all our duties, she is expected to play a secondary 
 part, and act as if the Christian faith favored the sentiment 
 of another, which teaches that women have no souls." 
 
 " All this is as old as the repinings of a very treacherous 
 nature, young lady," answered Dunscomb, coolly; "and I 
 have often heard it before. It is not surprising, however, 
 that a young, handsome, highly-educated, and I presume 
 rich, person of your sex, should be seduced by notions 
 seemingly so attractive, and long for what she will be apt 
 to term the emancipation of her sex. This is an age of 
 emancipation ; prudent gray-headed men become deluded, 
 and exhibit their folly by succumbing to a wild and ex- 
 ceedingly silly philanthropical hurrah ! Even religion is 
 emancipated ! There are churches, it is true ; but they 
 exist as appendages of society, instead of being divine in- 
 stitutions, established for the secret purposes of unerring 
 wisdom ; and we hear men openly commending this or 
 that ecclesiastical organization, because it has more or less 
 of the savor of republicanism. But one new dogma re- 
 mains to be advanced that the government of the uni- 
 verse is democratical in which the 'music of the spheres' 
 
40 THE WAYS' OF THE HOUR. 
 
 is a popular song ; and the disappearance of a world a 
 matter to be referred to the people in their primary 
 capacity. Among other absurdities of the hour is a new 
 law, giving to married women the control of their property, 
 and drawing a line of covetousness across the bolster of 
 every marriage bed in the State ! " 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Dunscomb, a man of your integrity, char- 
 acter, manliness and principles, would defend the weaker 
 sex in the maintenance of its rights against prodigality, 
 tyranny, and neglect ? " 
 
 " These are so many words, my dear ma'am, and are 
 totally without meaning, when thoroughly sifted. God 
 created woman to be a helpmeet to man to comfort, 
 solace, and aid him in his pursuit after wordly happiness ; 
 but always in a dependent relation. The marriage con- 
 dition, viewed in its every-day aspect, has sufficient causes 
 of disagreement, without drawing in this of property. One 
 of the dearest and nearest of its ties, indeed, that of a per- 
 fect identification of interests, is at once cut off by this 
 foolish, not to say wicked, attempt to light the torch of 
 contention in every household. It were better to teach 
 our women not to throw themselves away on men who can 
 not be trusted ; to inculcate the necessity of not marrying 
 in haste to repent at leisure, than to tinker the old, vener- 
 able and long-tried usages of our fathers, by crochets that 
 come far more from the feverish audacity of ignorance, 
 than from philosophy or wisdom. Why, unless the courts 
 interpose their prudence to rectify the blunders of the 
 legislature, as they have already done a hundred times, 
 the laborer's wife may have her action against her husband 
 for the earthen bowl he has broken ; and the man may be 
 sued by the wife for rent ! The happiness of every home 
 is hourly put in jeopardy, in order that, now and then, a 
 wife may be saved from the courses of a speculator or a 
 spendthrift." 
 
 " Might not this have been done before, Uncle Tom, by 
 means of settlements?" asked Anna, with interest. 
 
 " Certainly ; and that it is which renders all this silly 
 quackery so much the worse. In those cases in which the 
 magnitude of the stake might seem to demand extraor- 
 dinary care, the means already existed for providing all 
 useful safeguards ; and any new legislation was quite un- 
 necessary. This very law will produce twenty-fold more 
 unhappiness in families, than it will prevent of misery, by 
 setting up distinct, and often conflicting interests, among 
 
THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 241 
 
 chose who ought to live as ' bone of their bone, and flesh 
 of their flesh.' " 
 
 " You do not give to woman her proper place in society, 
 Mr. Dunscomb," returned Mary Monson, haughtily; 
 " your comments are those of a bachelor. I have heard of 
 a certain Miss Millington, who once had an interest with 
 you, and who, if living, would have taught you juster sen- 
 timents on this subject." 
 
 Dunscomb turned as white as a sheet ; his hand and lip 
 quivered ; and all desire to continue the discourse sud- 
 denly left him. The gentle Anna, ever attentive to his 
 wishes and ailings, stole to his side, silently offering a 
 glass of water. She had seen this agitation before, and 
 knew there was a leaf in " Uncle Tom's" history that he 
 did not wish every vulgar eye to read. 
 
 As for Mary Monson, she went into her cell, like one 
 who declined any further communication with her counsel. 
 Timms was struck with her lofty and decided manner ; 
 but stood too much in awe of her, to interpose a remon- 
 strance. After a few minutes taken by Dunscomb to re- 
 gain his self-command, and a brief consultation together, 
 the two lawyers quitted the prison. All this time, the ac- 
 cused remained in her cell, in resentful silence, closely and 
 anxiously watched by the searching eye of her senior at- 
 tendant. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Methinks, if, as I guess, the fault's but small, 
 It might be pardoned. The Orphan. 
 
 PERHAPS no surer test of high principles, as it is certain 
 no more accurate test of high breeding can be found, than 
 a distaste for injurious gossip. In woman, subject as she 
 is unquestionably by her education, habits, and active cu- 
 riosity, to the influence of this vice, its existence is deplor- 
 able, leading to a thousand wrongs, among the chief of 
 which is a false appreciation of ourselves ; but, when men 
 submit to so vile a propensity, they become contemptible, 
 as well as wicked. As a result of long observation, we 
 should say that those who are most obnoxious to the just 
 condemnation of the world, are the most addicted to find- 
 ing faults in others ; and it is only the comparatively good, 
 who are so because they are humble, that abstain from 
 meddling and dealing in scandal. 
 16 
 
242 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 When one reflects on the great amount of injustice that 
 is thus inflicted, without even the most remote hope of 
 reparation, how far a loose, ill-considered and ignorant re- 
 mark will float on the tongues of the idle, how much 
 unmerited misery is oftentimes entailed by such unweighed 
 assertions and opinions, and how small is the return of 
 benefit in any form whatever, it would almost appear a 
 necessary moral consequence that the world, by general 
 consent,, would determine to eradicate so pernicious an 
 evil, in the common interest of mankind. That it does 
 not, is probably owing to the power that is still left in the 
 hands of the Father of Sin, by the Infinite Wisdom that 
 has seen fit to place us in this condition of trial. The 
 parent of all lies, gossip, is one of the most familiar of the 
 means he employs to put his falsehoods in circulation. 
 
 This vice is heartless and dangerous when confined to 
 its natural limits, the circles of society ;. but, when it in- 
 vades the outer walks of life, and, most of all, when it gets 
 mixed up with the administration of justice, it becomes a 
 tyrant as ruthless and injurious in its way, as he who fid- 
 dled while Rome was in flames. We have no desire to ex- 
 aggerate the evils of the state of society in which we live ; 
 but an honest regard to truth will, we think, induce every 
 observant man to lament the manner in which this power, 
 under the guise of popular opinion, penetrates into all the 
 avenues of the courts, corrupting, perverting, and often 
 destroying the healthful action of their systems. 
 
 Biberry furnished a clear example of the truth of these 
 remarks on the morning of the day on which Mary Mon- 
 son was to be tried. 
 
 The jail-window had its crowd, of course ; and though 
 the disposition of curtains, and other similar means of con- 
 cealment completely baffled vulgar curiosity, they could 
 not cloak the resentful feelings to which this reserve gave 
 birth. Most of those who were drawn thither belonged to 
 a class who fancied it was not affliction enough to be ac- 
 cused of two of the highest crimes known to the laws ; but 
 that to this grievous misfortune should be added a sub- 
 mission to the stare of the multitude. It was the people's 
 laws the accused was supposed to have disregarded ; and 
 it was their privilege to anticipate punishment, by insult. 
 
 " Why don't she show herself, and let the public look on 
 her?" demanded one curious old man, whose head had 
 whitened under a steadily increasing misconception of 
 what the rights of this public were. "I've seen murderers 
 
THE IV A r.S' OF THE HOUR. 243 
 
 afore now, and ain't a bit afeard on 'em, if they be well 
 ironed and look'd a'ter." 
 
 This sally produced a heartless laugh ; for, sooth to say, 
 where one feels, under such circumstances, as reason, and 
 justice, and revelation would tell them to feel, ten feel as 
 the demons prompt. 
 
 "You cannot expect that a lady of fashion, who plays 
 on the harp and talks French, will show her pretty face to 
 be gazed at by common folk," rejoined a shabby genteel 
 sort of personage, out of whose waistcoat-pocket obtruded 
 the leaves of a small note-book, and the end of a gold pen. 
 This man was a reporter, rendered malignant by meeting 
 with opposition to his views of imagining that the universe 
 was created to furnish paragraphs for newspapers. He 
 was a half-educated European, who pronounced all his 
 words in a sort of boarding-school dialect, as if abbrevia- 
 tion offended a taste " sickened by over learning." 
 
 Another laugh succeeded this supercilious sneer ; and 
 three or four lads, half-grown and clamorous, called aloud 
 the name of " Mary Monson," demanding that she should 
 show herself. At that moment the accused was on her 
 knees, with Anna Updyke at her side, praying for that 
 support which, as the crisis arrived, she found to be more 
 and more necessary. 
 
 Changing from this scene to the open street, we find 
 a pettifogger, one secretly prompted by Williams, spread- 
 ing a report that had its origin no one knew where, but 
 which was gradually finding its way to the ears of half 
 the population of Dukes, exciting prejudice and inflicting 
 wrong. 
 
 " It's the curi'stest story I ever heard," said Sam Tongue, 
 as the pettifogger was usually styled, though his real name 
 was Hubbs ; " and one so hard to believe, that, though I tell 
 it, I call on no man to believe it. You see, gentlemen " 
 the little group around him was composed of suitors, wit- 
 nesses, jurors, grand-jurors, and others of a stamp that 
 usually mark these several classes of men " that the ac- 
 count now is, that this Mary Monson was sent abroad for 
 her schoolin' when only ten years old ; and that she stayed 
 in the old countries long enough to 1'arn to play the harp, 
 and other deviltries of the same natur'. It's a misfortin', 
 as I say, for any young woman to be sent out of Ameriky 
 for an edication. Edication, as everybody knows, is the 
 great glory of our country ; and a body would think that 
 what can't be 1'arnt here, isn't worth knowin'." 
 
244 THE W AYS OF THE HOl'R. 
 
 This sentiment was well received, as would be anj 
 opinion that asserted American superiority, with that par- 
 ticular class of listeners. Eye turned to eye, nod answered 
 nod, and a murmur expressive of approbation passed 
 through the little crowd. 
 
 " But there was no great harm in that," put in a person 
 named Hicks, who was accustomed to connect conse 
 quences with their causes, and to trace causes down to 
 their consequences. "Anybody might have been edicated 
 in France as well as Mary Monson. That will hardly tell 
 ag'in her on the trial." 
 
 " I didn't say it would," answered Sam Tongue ; " though 
 it's gin'rally conceded that France is no country for relig- 
 ion or true freedom. Give me religion and freedom, say 
 I ; a body can get along with bad crops, or disappointments 
 in gin'ral, so long as he has plenty of religion and plenty 
 of freedom." 
 
 Another murmur, another movement in the group, and 
 other nods denoted the spirit in which this was received, too. 
 
 " All this don't make ag'in Mary Monson ; 'specially as 
 you say she was sent abroad so young. It wasn't her 
 fault if her parents " 
 
 " She had no parents there's the great mystery of her 
 case. Never had, so far as can be discovered. A gal 
 without parents, without fri'nds of any sort, is edicated in 
 a foreign land, Tarns to speak foreign tongues, plays on 
 foreign music, and comes home a'ter she's grown up, with 
 her pockets as full as if she'd been to Californy and met a 
 vein ; and no one can tell where it all come from ! " 
 
 " Well, that won't tell ag'in her, ne'ther," rejoined Hicks, 
 who had now defended the accused so much that he began 
 to take an interest in her acquittal. " Evidence must be 
 direct, and have a p'int, to tell ag'in man or woman. As 
 for Californy, it's made lawful by treaty, if Congress will 
 only let it alone." 
 
 " I know that as well as the best lawyer in Dukes ; but 
 character can tell ag'in an accused, as is very likely to be 
 shown in the Oyer and Terminer of this day. Character 
 counts, let me tell you, when the facts get a little confused ; 
 and this is just what I was about to say. Mary Monson 
 has money ; where does it come from ? " 
 
 "Those that think her guilty say that it comes from 
 poor Mrs. Goodwin's stockin'," returned Hicks, with a 
 laugh ; " but, for my part, I've seen that stockin', and am 
 satisfied it didn't hold five hundred dollars, if it did four." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 245 
 
 Here the reporter out with his notes, scribbling away for 
 some time. That evening a paragraph, a little altered to 
 give it point and interest, appeared in an evening paper, 
 in which the conflicting statements of Tongue and Hicks 
 were so presented that neither of these worthies could 
 have recognized his own child. That paper was in Biberry 
 next morning, and had no inconsiderable influence, ulti- 
 mately, on the fortunes of the accused. 
 
 In the bar-room of Mrs. Horton, the discussion was also 
 lively and wily on this same subject. As this was a place 
 much frequented by the jurors, the agents of Timms and 
 Williams were very numerous in and around that house. 
 The reader is not to suppose that these men admitted di- 
 rectly to themselves even, the true character of the rascally 
 business in which they were engaged ; for their employers 
 were much too shrewd not to cover, to a certain degree, 
 the deformity of their own acts. One set had been told 
 that they were favoring justice, bringing down aristocratic 
 pride to the level of the rights of the mass, demonstrating 
 that this was a free country, by one of the very vilest 
 procedures that ever polluted the fountains of justice at 
 their very source. On the other hand, the agents of 
 Timms had been persuaded that they were working in be- 
 half of a persecuted and injured woman, who was pressed 
 upon by the well-known avarice of the nephew of the 
 Goodwins, and who was in danger of becoming the victim 
 of a chain of extraordinary occurrences that had thrown 
 her into the meshes of the law. It is true, this reasoning 
 was backed by liberal gifts ; which, however, were made 
 to assume the aspect of compensation fairly earned, for 
 the biggest villain going derives a certain degree of satis- 
 faction in persuading himself that he is acting under the 
 influence of motives to which he is, in truth, a stranger. 
 The homage which vice pays to virtue is on a much more 
 extended scale than is commonly supposed. 
 
 Williams's men had much the best of it with the mass. 
 They addressed themselves to prejudices as wide as the 
 dominion of man ; and a certain personal zeal was mingled 
 with their cupidity. Then they had, by far, the easiest 
 task. He who merely aids the evil principles of our nat- 
 ure, provided he conceal the cloven foot, is much more 
 sure of finding willing listeners than he who looks for 
 support in the good. A very unusual sort of story was 
 circulated in this bar-room at the expense of the accused, 
 and which carried with it more credit than common, in 
 
246 THE WAYS OF TITR HOTR. 
 
 conseque ice of its being so much out of the beaten track 
 of events as to seem to set invention at defiance. 
 
 Mary Monson was said to be an heiress, well con- 
 nected, and well educated or, as these three very 
 material circumstances were stated by the Williams 
 men " well to do herself, of friends well to do, and oi 
 excellent schooling." She had been married to a per- 
 son of equal position in society, wealth, and character, 
 but many years her senior too many, the story went, 
 considering her own time of life ; for a great difference, 
 when one of the parties is youthful, is apt to tax the tastes 
 too severely and that connection had not proved happy. 
 It had been formed abroad, and more on foreign than on 
 American principles ; the bridegroom being a Frenchman. 
 It was what is called a mariage de raison, made through 
 the agency of friends and executors, rather than through 
 the sympathies and feelings that should alone bring man 
 and woman together in this, the closest union known to 
 human beings. After a year of married life abroad, the 
 unmatched couple had come to America, where the wife 
 possessed a very ample fortune. This estate the recently 
 enacted laws gave solely and absolutely to herself ; and it 
 soon became a source of dissension between man and wife. 
 The husband, quite naturally, considered himself entitled 
 to advise and direct, and, in some measure, to control, 
 while the affluent, youthful, and pretty wife was indisposed 
 to yield any of the independence she so much prized, but 
 which, in sooth, was asserted in the very teeth of one of 
 the most salutary laws of nature. In consequence of this 
 very different manner of viewing the marriage relation, a 
 coolness ensued, which was shortly followed by the disap- 
 pearance of the wife. This wife was Mary Monson, who 
 had secreted herself in the retired dwelling of the Good- 
 wins, while the hired agents of her husband were running 
 up and down the land in search of the fugitive in places 
 of resort. To this account, so strange, and yet in many 
 respects so natural, it was added that a vein of occult mad- 
 ness existed in the lady's family ; and it was suggested 
 that, as so much of her conduct as was out of the ordinary 
 course might be traced to this malady, so was it also pos- 
 sible that the terrible incidents of the fire and the deaths 
 were to be imputed to the same deep affliction. 
 
 We are far from saying that any rumor expressed in the 
 terms we have used, was circulating in Mrs. Horton's bar- 
 room ; but one that contained all their essentials was. If 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 247 
 
 is one of the curious effects of the upward tendency of 
 truth that almost every effort to conceal it altogether fails ; 
 and this at the very time when idle and heartless gossip is 
 filling the world with lies. The tongue does a thousand 
 times more evil than the sword ; destroys more happiness, 
 inflicts more incurable wounds, leaves deeper and more 
 indelible scars. Truth is rarely met with unalloyed by 
 falsehood. 
 
 " This or that unmix' d, no mortal e'er shall find " 
 
 was the judgment of Pope a century since ; nor has all the 
 boasted progress of these later times induced a change. 
 It is remarkable that a country which seems honestly de- 
 voted to improvement of every sort, that has a feverish 
 desire to take the lead in the warfare against all sorts and 
 species of falsehood, gives not the slightest heed to the 
 necessity of keeping the channels of intelligence pure, as 
 well as open ! Such is the fact ; and it is a melancholy but 
 a just admission to acknowledge that with all the means of 
 publicity preserved by America, there is no country in 
 which it is more difficult to get unadulterated truth im- 
 pressed on the common mind. The same wire that trans- 
 mits a true account of the price of cotton from Halifax to 
 New Orleans, carries a spark that imparts one that is 
 false. The two arrive together ; and it is not until each 
 has done its work that the real fact is ascertained. 
 
 Notwithstanding these undoubted obstacles to the cir- 
 culation of unalloyed truth, that upward tendency to 
 which we have alluded occasionally brings out clear and 
 strong rays of the divine quality, that illumine the moral 
 darkness on which they shine, as the sun touches the 
 verge of the thunder-cloud. It is in this way that an oc- 
 casional report is heard, coming from no one knows where ; 
 originating with no one knows whom ; circulating in a sort 
 of under-current beneath the torrents of falsehood, that is 
 singularly, if it be not absolutely correct. 
 
 Of this character was the strange rumor that found its 
 way into Biberry on the morning of Mary Monson's trial, 
 touching the history of that mysterious young woman's 
 past life. Wilmeter heard it first, with a pang of disap- 
 pointment, though Anna had nearly regained her power 
 in his heart ; and this pang was immediately succeeded by 
 unbounded surprise. He told the tale to Millington ; and 
 together they endeavored to trace the report to something 
 
248 TV/A 1 ll'AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 like its source. All efforts of this nature were in vain 
 One had heard the story from another ; but no one could 
 say whence it came originally. The young men gave the 
 pursuit up as useless, and proceeded together toward the 
 room of Timms, where they knew Dunscomb was to be 
 found, just at that time. 
 
 " It is remarkable that a story of this nature should be 
 in such general circulation," said John, " and no one be 
 able to tell who brought it to Biberry. Parts of it seem 
 extravagant. Do they not strike you so, sir ? " 
 
 " There is nothing too extravagant for some women to 
 do," answered Millington, thoughtfully. "Now, on such 
 a person as Sarah, or even on Anna Updyke, some calcu- 
 lations might be made certain calculations, I might say ; 
 but they are women, Jack, on whom one can no more de- 
 pend, than on the constancy of the winds." 
 
 " I admire your ' even on Anna Updyke ! " 
 
 " Do you not agree with me ? " returned the unobservant 
 Millington. " I have always considered Sarah's friend as 
 a particularly reliable and safe sort of person." 
 
 " Even on Anna Updyke ! and a particularly reliable 
 and safe sort of person ! You have thought this, Mike, 
 because she is Sarah's bosom friend ? " 
 
 "That may have prejudiced me in her favor, I will al- 
 low ; for I like most things that Sarah likes." 
 
 John looked at his friend and future brother-in-law with 
 an amused surprise ; the idea of liking Anna Updyke on 
 any account but her own, striking him as particularly ab- 
 surd. But they were soon at Timms's door, and the con- 
 versation dropped as a matter of course. 
 
 No one who has ever travelled much in the interior of 
 America, can easily mistake the character of one of the 
 small edifices, with the gable to the street, ornamented 
 with what are erroneously termed Venetian blinds, painted 
 white, and with an air of tobacco-smoke and the shabby- 
 genteel about it, notwithstanding its architectural preten- 
 sions. This is a lawyer's office, thus brought edgeways to 
 the street, as if the owner felt the necessity of approaching 
 the thoroughfare of the world a little less directly than the 
 rest of mankind. It often happens that these buildings, 
 small as they usually are, contain two, or even three 
 rooms ; and that the occupants, if single men, sleep in 
 them as well as transact their business. Such was the case 
 with Timms, his "office," as the structure was termed, 
 containing his bedroom, in addition to an inner and at, 
 
THE WAYS OF THE SfOTA\ 249 
 
 outer department devoted to the purposes of the law. 
 Dunscomb was in the sanctum, while a single clerk and 
 three or four clients, countrymen of decent exterior and 
 very expecting countenances, occupied the outer room. 
 John and Millington went into the presence with little or 
 no hesitation. 
 
 Wilmeter was not accustomed to much circumlocution ; 
 and he at once communicated the substance of the strange 
 rumor that was in circulation, touching their interesting 
 client. The uncle listened with intense attention, turning 
 pale as the nephew proceeded. Instead of answering or 
 making any comment, he sunk upon a chair, leaned his 
 hands on a table and his head on his hands, for fully a 
 minute. All were struck with these signs of agitation ; 
 but no one dared to interfere. At length, this awful pause 
 came to a close, and Dunscomb raised his head, the face 
 still pale and agitated. His eye immediately sought that 
 of Millington. 
 
 "You had heard this story, Michael?" demanded the 
 counsellor. 
 
 " I had, sir. John and I w r ent together to try to trace it 
 to some authority." 
 
 " With what success ? " 
 
 " None whatever. It is in every one's mouth, but no 
 one can say whence it came. Most rumors have a clew, 
 but this seems to have none." 
 
 "Do you trace the connection which has struck which 
 has oppressed me ? " 
 
 " I do, sir, and was so struck the moment I heard the 
 rumor ; for the facts are in singular conformity with what 
 you communicated to me some months since." 
 
 " They are, indeed, and create a strong probability that 
 there is more truth in this rumor than is commonly to be 
 found in such reports. What has become of Timms ? " 
 
 "On the ground, squire," answered that worthy from 
 the outer room " just dispatching my clerk " this word 
 he pronounced "clurk" instead of "dark," by way of 
 showing he knew how to spell "with a message to one 
 of my men. He will find him and be with us in a minute." 
 
 In the meantime, Timms had a word to say to each client 
 in succession ; getting rid of them all by merely telling 
 each man, in his turn, there was not the shadow of doubt 
 that he would get the better of his opponent in the trial 
 that was so near at hand. It may be said here, as a proof 
 how much a legal prophet may be mistaken, Timms was 
 
250 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 subsequently beaten in each of these three suits, to the 
 great disappointment of as many anxious husbandmen, 
 each of whom fondly counted on success, from the oily 
 promises he had received. 
 
 In a very few minutes the agent expected by Timms ap- 
 peared in the office. He was plain-looking, rather rough 
 and honest in appearance, with a most wily, villanous leer 
 of the eye. His employer introduced him as Mr. Johnson. 
 
 "Well, Johnson, what news?" commenced Timms. 
 "These are friends to Mary Monson, and you can speak 
 out, always avoiding partic'lar partic'lars." 
 
 Johnson leered, helped himself to a chew of tobacco with 
 great deliberation, a trick he had when he needed a mo- 
 ment of thought before he made his revelations ; bowed 
 respectfully to the great York lawyer ; took a good look 
 at each of the young men, as if to measure their means of 
 doing good or harm ; and then condescended to reply. 
 
 "Not very good," was the answer. "That foreign in- 
 strument, which they say is just such a one as David used 
 when he played before Saul, has done a good deal of harm. 
 It won't do, Squire Timms, to fiddle off an indictment for 
 murder ! Mankind gets engaged in such causes ; and if 
 they desire music on the trial, it's the music of law and 
 evidence that they want." 
 
 " Have you heard any reports concerning Mary Monson's 
 past life ? if so, can you tell where they come from ? " 
 
 Johnson knew perfectly well whence a portion of the 
 rumors came ; those which told in favor of the accused ; 
 but these he easily comprehended were not the reports to 
 which Timms alluded. 
 
 " Biberry is full of all sorts of rumors," returned John- 
 son, cautiously, " as it commonly is in court-time. Parties 
 like to make the most of their causes." 
 
 " You know my meaning we have no time to lose ; an- 
 swer at once." 
 
 " I suppose I do know what you mean, Squire Timms ; 
 and I have heard the report. In rny judgment, the person 
 who set it afloat is no friend of Mary Monson's." 
 
 "You think, then, it will do her damage ?" 
 
 " To the extent of her neck. Eve, before she touched 
 the apple, could not have been acquitted in the face of 
 such a rumor. I look upon your client as a lost woman, 
 Squire Timms." 
 
 "Does that seem to be the common sentiment that is, 
 so far as you can judge ? " 
 
THE IV AYS OF THE HOUR. 251 
 
 " Among the jurors it does." 
 
 " The jurors !" exclaimed Dunscomb "what can you 
 possibly know of the opinions of the jurors, Mr. Johnson ? " 
 
 A cold smile passed over the man's face, and he looked 
 steadily at Timms, as if to catch a clew that might conduct 
 him safely through the difficulties of his case. A frown 
 that was plain enough to the agent, though admirably con- 
 cealed from all others in the room, told him to be cautious. 
 
 " I only know what I see and hear. Jurors are men, and 
 other men can sometimes get an insight into their feelings, 
 without running counter to law. I heard the rumor re- 
 lated myself, in the presence of seven of the panel. It's 
 true, no'thing was said of the murder, or the arson ; but 
 such a history of the previous life of the accused was given 
 as Lady Washington couldn't have stood up ag'in, had she 
 been livin', and on trial for her life." 
 
 " Was anything said of insanity ? " asked Dunscomb. 
 
 " Ah, that plea will do no good, nowadays ; it's worn 
 out. They'd hang a murderer from Bedlam. Insanity has 
 been overdone, and can't be depended on any longer." 
 
 "Was anything said on the subject?" repeated the 
 counsellor. 
 
 " Why, to own the truth, there was ; but, as that told 
 for Mary Monson, and not ag'in her, it was not pressed." 
 
 " You think, then, that the story has been circulated by 
 persons in favor of the prosecution ? " 
 
 " I know it. One of the other side said to me, not ten 
 minutes ago ' Johnson,' said he * we are old friends ' he 
 always speaks to me in that familiar way * Johnson,' said 
 he, 'you'd a done better to have gi'n up. What's five 
 thousand dollars to the likes of her ? and them, you know, 
 is the figures.' " 
 
 "This is a pretty exhibition of the manner of adminis- 
 tering justice !" exclaimed the indignant Dunscomb. " Long 
 as I have been at the bar, I had no conception that such 
 practices prevailed. At all events, this illegality will give 
 a fair occasion to demand a qew trial." 
 
 " Ay, the sharpest lawyer that ever crossed Harlem 
 Bridge can 1'arn something in old Dukes," said Johnson, 
 nodding. " Squire Timms will stand to that. As for new 
 trials, I only wonder the lawyers don't get one each time 
 they are beaten ; for the law would bear them out." 
 
 " I should like to know how, Master Johnson," put in 
 Timms. " That would be a secret worth knowing." 
 
 " A five-dollar note will buy it," 
 
252 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "There's one of ten now, tell me your secret." 
 
 "Well, squire, you be a gentleman, whatever folks may 
 say and think of you. I'd rather do business with you, 
 by one-half, than do business with Williams ; notwith- 
 standing he has such a name up and down the coun- 
 try. Stick to it, and you'll get the nomination to the 
 Sinat'; and the nomination secured, you're sure of the 
 seat. Nomination is the government of Ameriky ; and 
 that's secured by a wonderful few ! " 
 
 " I believe you are more than half right, Johnson." 
 Here Dunscomb, his nephew, and Millington left the office, 
 quite unnoticed by the two worthies, who had entered on 
 a subject as engrossing as that of Timms's elevation to the 
 Senate. And, by the way, as this book is very likely to be 
 introduced to the world, it may be well enough to explain 
 that we have two sorts of "Senates" in this country; 
 wheels within wheels. There is the Senate of each State, 
 without an exception now, we believe ; and there is the 
 Senate of the United States ; the last being, in every sense, 
 much the most dignified and important body. It being 
 unfortunately true that "nominations " are the real people 
 of America, unless in cases which arouse the nation, the 
 State Senates very often contain members altogether un- 
 suited to their trusts ; men who have obtained their seats 
 by party legerdemain ; and who had much better, on their 
 own account, as well as on that of the public, be at home 
 attending to their own private affairs. This much may be 
 freely said by any citizen, of a State Senate, a collection 
 of political partisans that commands no particular respect ; 
 but it is very different with that of the United States ; and 
 we shall confine ourselves to saying, in reference to that 
 body, which it is the fashion of the times to reverence as 
 the most illustrious political body on earth, that it is not 
 quite as obnoxious to this judgment as the best of its sis- 
 terhood of the several States ; though very far from being 
 immaculate, or what, with a little more honesty in political 
 leaders, it might be. 
 
 " I believe you are half right, Johnson, "answered Timms. 
 " Nomination is the government in this country ; liberty, 
 people, and all ! Let a man get a nomination on the 
 right side, and he's as good as elected. But now for this 
 mode of getting new trials, Johnson ?" 
 
 "Why, squire, I'm amazed a man of your experience 
 should ask the question ! The law is sharp enough in 
 keeping jurors, and constables, and door-keepers, in their 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 253 
 
 places ; but the jurors, and constables, and door-keepers, 
 don't like to be kept in their places ; and there isn't one 
 cause in ten, if they be of any length, in which the jurors 
 don't stray, or the constables don't get into the jury rooms. 
 You can't pound free-born American citizens like cattle ! " 
 
 " I understand you, Johnson, and will take the hint. I 
 knew there was a screw loose in this part of our jurispru- 
 dence, but did not think it as important as I now see it is. 
 The fact is, Johnson, we have been telling the people so 
 long that they are perfect, and every man that he, in his 
 own person, is one of these people, that our citizens don't 
 like to submit to restraints that are disagreeable. Still, we 
 are a law-abiding people, as every one says." 
 
 " That may be so, squire; but we are not jury-room- 
 abiding, nor be the constables outside-of-the-door-abiding, 
 take my word for it. As you say, sir, every man is begin- 
 ning to think he is a part of the people, and a great part, 
 too ; and he soon gets the notion that he can do as he has 
 a mind to do." 
 
 "Where* is Mr. Dunscomb?" 
 
 " He stepped out with the young gentlemen, a few mo- 
 ments since. I dare say, Squire Timms, he's gone to en- 
 gage men to talk down this rumor about Mary Monson. 
 That job should have been mine, by rights ! " 
 
 " Not he, Johnson not he. Your grand lawyers don't 
 meddle with such matters ; or, when they do, they pretend 
 not to. No, he has gone to the jail, and I must follow him." 
 
 At the jail was Dunscomb, sure enough. Mary Monson, 
 Anna and Sarah, with Marie Moulin, all dressed for the 
 court ; the former with beautiful simplicity, but still more 
 beautiful care ; the three last plainly, but in attire well 
 suited to their respective stations in life. There was a 
 common air of concern and anxiety ; though Mary Mon- 
 son still maintained her self-command. Indeed, the quiet 
 of her manner was truly wonderful, for the circumstances. 
 
 " Providence has placed me in a most trying situation," 
 she said; "but I see my course. Were I to shrink from 
 this trial, evade it in any manner, a blot would rest on my 
 name as long as I am remembered. It is indispensable 
 that I should be acquitted. This, by God's blessing on the 
 innocent, must come to pass, and I may go forth and face 
 my friends with a quiet mind." 
 
 " These friends ought to be known," answered Duns- 
 comb, " and should be here to countenance you with 
 their presence." 
 
254 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "They! He! Never while I live, never!" 
 
 " You see this young man, Mary Monson I believe he 
 is known to you, by name ?" 
 
 Mary Monson turned her face toward Millington, smiled 
 coldly, and seemed undisturbed. 
 
 " What is he to me ? Here is the woman of his heart 
 let him turn to her, with all his care." 
 
 "You understand me, Mary Monson it is important 
 that I should be assured of that" 
 
 "Perhaps I do, Mr. Dunscomb, and perhaps I do not. 
 You are enigmatical this morning ; I cannot be certain." 
 
 " In one short half-hour the bell of yonder court-house 
 will ring, when you are to be tried for your life." 
 
 The cheek of the accused blanched a little ; but its color 
 soon returned, while her eye assumed a look even prouder 
 than common. 
 
 "Let it come" was her quiet answer " the innocent 
 need not tremble. These two pure beings have promised 
 to accompany me to the place of trial, and to give me their 
 countenance. Why, then, should I hesitate?" 
 
 "I shall go, too" said Millington steadily, like one 
 whose mind was made up. 
 
 " You ! Well, for the sake of this dear one, you may go, 
 too." 
 
 " For no other reason, Mary ? " 
 
 " For no other reason, sir. I am aware of the interest 
 you and Mr. Wilmeter have taken in my case ; and I thank 
 you both from the bottom of my heart. Ah ! kindness 
 was never lost on me " 
 
 A flood of tears, for the first time since her imprison- 
 ment, so far as anyone knew, burst from this extraordinary 
 being ; and, for a few minutes, she became woman in the 
 fullest meaning of the term. 
 
 During this interval Dunscomb retired, perceiving that 
 it was useless to urge anything on his client while weep- 
 ing almost convulsively ; and aware that he had several 
 things to do before the court met. Besides, he left the 
 place quite satisfied on an all-important point ; and he and 
 Millington walked by themselves toward the court-house, 
 their heads close together, and their voices reduced nearly 
 to whispers. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " I blush, and am confounded to appear 
 
 Before thy presence, Cato." 
 " What's thy crime?" 
 " I am a Numidian." Cato. 
 
 WITHIN the half-hour mentioned by Dunscomb, the court- 
 house bell rang, and there was a rush toward that build- 
 ing, in order to secure seats for the approaching trial. All 
 that has been related in the preceding chapter occurred 
 between the hours of six and nine that morning, it being 
 one of the "ways of the hour" in the march of improve- 
 ment, to drive the administration of justice with as near an 
 approach to railroad speed as is practicable. Many of the 
 modern judges go to work as early as eight in the morn- 
 ing perhaps most do in the country circuits and con- 
 tinue to call causes until nine and ten at night, illustrating 
 the justice of the land by means of agents who are half 
 asleep, and stupid from fatigue. 
 
 We have said that everything like dignity, except as it 
 is to be found in the high character of its duties, and the 
 manner in which they are performed, has been banished 
 from the courts of New York. Even on this solemn occa- 
 sion, when a human being was to be put on trial for her 
 life, and she a woman, there was no departure from the 
 naked simplicity that has been set up on the pedestal of 
 reason, in open opposition to the ancient accessories by 
 which the Law asserted its power. It remains to be seen 
 whether human nature has not been as much overesti- 
 mated under the new arrangement as it was underrated by 
 the old. There is a medium, in truth, that it is ever safe 
 to respect ; and there is reason to apprehend that in throw- 
 ing away the useless vestments of idle parade, those neces- 
 sary to decency were cast aside with them. 
 
 Quite a fourth of the audience assembled in Dukes 
 County court-house, on this occasion, were females. The 
 curiosity, which is said to be so natural to the sex, was, on this 
 occasion, quickened by the peculiar circumstances of the 
 case, a woman having been murdered, and a woman ac- 
 cused of having committed the offence. It was said, how- 
 ever, that many were summoned as witnesses, it being gen- 
 erally understood that the State had subpoenaed the 
 country far and near. 
 
5 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR, 
 
 At length a general and expecting silence succeeded the 
 bustle of the crowds entering and obtaining seats, and the 
 eyes of the spectators were very generally turned toward 
 the door, in the wish to get a glimpse of the principal per- 
 sonage in the approaching scene. We know not why it is 
 that the spectacle of others' woes has so great a charm for 
 most persons. Nature has given us sympathy and com- 
 passion, and a desire to alleviate misery ; yet most of us 
 like to look upon it, as a mere spectacle, when we have 
 neither the wish nor the power to be more than useless 
 spectators. Thousands will assemble to see a man hanged, 
 when all know that the law has a grasp too tight to be un- 
 loosed, and that the circle of the gallows is no place for 
 feelings of commiseration. But, so it is ; and many a fe- 
 male that day, who would have gladly alleviated any dis- 
 tress that it was in her power to lessen, sat there, a 
 curious and interested observer of all that passed ; to 
 note the workings of the countenance, the writhings of 
 the inner soul, if any such there should be, or the gleams 
 of hope that might, at intervals, lighten the gloom of de- 
 spair. 
 
 The court was occupied for half an hour with hearing 
 motions, and in granting orders, nothing seeming to im- 
 pede its utilitarian progress. Then the movement within 
 the bar ceased, and an expectation, that was even solemn, 
 fell on the whole mass of human beings that were collected 
 in that narrow space. 
 
 " This is the day for which the trial of Mary Monson 
 was, by arrangement, set down," observed the judge. " Mr. 
 District Attorney, are you ready?" 
 
 "We are, sir entirely so, I believe. If the court please, 
 Mr. Williams and Mr. Wright will be associated with me 
 in this case. It is one of importance, and I do not like the 
 responsibility of trying it alone." 
 
 "The court has so understood it who is for the ac- 
 cused?" 
 
 " I am retained to defend Mary Monson," answered Duns- 
 comb, rising with dignity, and speaking with the self-pos- 
 session of one long accustomed to the courts. " Mr. Timms 
 will assist me." 
 
 " Are you ready, gentlemen ? " 
 
 " I believe we are, your honor ; though the prisoner has 
 not yet been arraigned." 
 
 " Mr. District Attorney, we will proceed." 
 
 As the sheriff now left the room in person, rather an 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 257 
 
 unusual thing in bringing a prisoner into court, expecta- 
 tion was at its height. Tn the midst of a breathing silence 
 the door swung round court-room doors are now made to 
 swing like turnpikes, in order to prevent noise and Mr. 
 Gott entered, followed by Mary Monson, Anna, Sarah, 
 Marie Moulin, and the two young men. The kind-hearted 
 wife of the sheriff was already in the room, and, by means 
 of a constable, had managed to keep seats reserved for 
 those who might attend the prisoner. To these seats the 
 party now retired, with the exception of Marie Moulin, 
 who attended her mistress within the bar. 
 
 Every observer was struck with the unexpected air, 
 manner, and attire of the prisoner. Dunscomb saw, at a 
 glance, that her appearance had made a most favorable im- 
 pression. This was something, and he hoped it might 
 counteract much of the manoeuvring of Davis and Williams. 
 The judge, in particular, a kind-hearted and very well- 
 meaning man, was taken altogether by surprise. There is 
 nothing in which there is more freemasonry than in the 
 secret symptoms of social castes. Each individual is more 
 or less of a judge of these matters, up to the level of his 
 own associations, while all beyond is mystery. It hap- 
 pened that the judge now about to try Mary Monson, be- 
 longed to an old, historical New York family, a thing of 
 rather rare occurrence in the great movements of the times, 
 and he possessed an hereditary tact in discerning persons 
 of his own habits of life. Almost at a glance he perceived 
 that the prisoner had the air, manners, countenance and 
 finesse of one accustomed, from infancy, to good company. 
 The reader may smile at this, but he must pardon us if we 
 say the smile will betray ignorance, rather than denote the 
 philosophy that he may fancy controls his opinions. Duns- 
 comb was much gratified when the judge rather earnestly 
 interposed against the act of the sheriff, who was about to 
 place the prisoner at the bar in the little barricaded place 
 allotted to the use of ordinary criminals, directing him 
 to 
 
 " Give the prisoner a chair within the bar, Mr. Sheriff. 
 Gentlemen, be so good as to make room, that the accused 
 may sit near her counsel. Mr. Attorney, let the prisoner 
 be arraigned, as soon as she has rested from the fatigue 
 and agitation of appearing here." 
 
 This ceremony, now little more than a blank form, was 
 soon ended, and the plea of " not guilty " was entered. The 
 next step was to impanel the jury, a task of infinite diffi- 
 
 '7 
 
258 THE WAYS OF THF. HOUR. 
 
 culty, and one that has got to be so much an outwork, in 
 the proceedings in criminal cases, as almost to baffle the 
 powers of the law. It is no unusual thing for the time of 
 the court to be occupied a week or two, in this prelimi- 
 nary proceeding, until the evil has got to be so crying as 
 to induce the executive to recommend that the legislature 
 may devise some mode of relief. One of the most beset* 
 ting vices of all American legislation in those cases in 
 which abuses are not the offspring of party, is a false phil- 
 anthropy, in which the wicked and evil-doer has been 
 protected at the expense of the upright and obedient. The 
 abuse just mentioned is one of those in which the bottom 
 has been reached somewhat sooner than common ; but it 
 is hazarding little to predict, that more than half which has 
 been done within the last few years, under the guise of 
 liberty and philanthropy, will have to be undone, ere the 
 citizen will be left to the quiet enjoyment of his rights, or 
 can receive the just protection of the laws. 
 
 One of the common-sense and real improvements of the 
 day is to swear the jurors, in all the causes that are to be 
 tried, by one process. This is a saving of time ; and though 
 the ceremony might be, and ought to be made, much more 
 solemn and impressive than it is, as by causing all other 
 business to cease, and to make every one present rise, and 
 stand in reverential silence, while the name of the God of 
 heaven and earth is invoked, still it is a great improvement 
 on the ancient mode, and has reason to sustain it. It gives 
 us pleasure to note such circumstances in the "ways of the 
 hour," whenever a sense of right can induce one who 
 loathes the flattery of the people quite as much as he 
 loathes that of princes, and flattery of all sorts, to say aught 
 in favor of what has been done, or is yet doing around 
 him. 
 
 The clerk called the name of Jonas Wattles, the first 
 juror drawn. This man was a respectable mechanic, of no 
 great force in the way of mind, but meaning well, and re- 
 puted honest. Timms gave the senior counsel a look, 
 which the other understood to mean, "he may do." No 
 objection being made on account of the State, Jonas Wat- 
 tles took his seat in the jury-box, which was thought great 
 good luck for a capital case. 
 
 " Ira Trueman," cried the clerk. 
 
 A meaning pause succeeded the announcement of this 
 name. Trueman was a person of considerable Jocal influ- 
 ence, and would probably carry great weight in a bod3' 
 
TPI8* WAYS OF THE HOUR. 2$g 
 
 composed principally of men even less instructed than he 
 was himself. What 'was more, both Timms and Williams 
 knew that their respective agents had been hard at work to 
 gain his ear, though neither knew exactly with what degree 
 of success. It was consequently equally hazardous to 
 accept or to oppose, and the two legal gladiators stood at 
 bay, each waiting for the other to betray his opinion of the 
 man. The judge soon became weaned, and inquired if the 
 juror was accepted. It was a somewhat amusing sight, 
 now, to observe the manner in which Timms proceeded 
 with Williams, and Williams met Timms. 
 
 " I should like to hear the gentleman's objections to this 
 juror," observed Timms, "as I do not see that his challenge 
 is peremptory." 
 
 " I have not challenged the juror at all," answered Wil- 
 liams, "but have understood the challenge comes from the 
 defence." 
 
 " This is extr'or'nary ! The gentleman looks defiance at 
 the juror, and now declares he does not challenge ! " 
 
 " Looks ! If looks made a challenge, the State might at 
 once suffer these foul murders to go unpunished, for I am 
 sure the gentleman's countenance is a perfect thunder- 
 cloud " 
 
 " I trust that counsel will recollect the gravity of this 
 cause, and suffer it to be conducted with the decorum that 
 ought never to be wanting in a court of justice," interposed 
 the judge. " Unless there is a direct challenge, from one 
 side or the other, the juror must take his seat, of course." 
 
 " I should like to ask the juror a question or two," 
 Timms replied, speaking very cautiously, and like one who 
 was afraid of hurting the feelings of the party under ex- 
 amination ; and in truth wary, lest on investigation he 
 might discover that Trueman was likely to be the sort of 
 person he wanted. " You have been at Biberry, juror, 
 since the opening of the court ? " 
 
 Trueman nodded his head. 
 
 " Of course, you have been round among your friends 
 arid neighbors, that you have met with here ? " 
 
 Another nod from Trueman, with a sort of affirmative 
 grunt. 
 
 " You have probably heard more or less said concerning 
 Mary Monson I mean in a legal and proper way ? " 
 
 A third nod of assent. 
 
 " Can you speak anything, in particular, that has been 
 said in your presence ?" 
 
2 6o THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 Trueman seemed to tax his memory, then he raised his 
 head, and answered deliberately and with great clearness : 
 " I was going from the tavern to the court-house, when 
 I met David Johnson " 
 
 " Never mind those particulars, Mr. Trueman," inter- 
 rupted Timms, who saw that the juror had been talking 
 with one of his own most confidential agents " what the 
 court wishes to know is, if any one has been reporting 
 circumstances unfavorable to Mary Monson in your pres- 
 ence ?" 
 
 " Or in her favor," put in Williams, with a sneer. 
 
 "Juror," interposed the judge "tell us if any one Aas 
 spoken to you on the merits of this case for or against ? " 
 
 " Merits " repeated Trueman, seeming to reflect again. 
 " No, your honor ; I can't say that there has." 
 
 Now, this was as bold a falsehood as was ever uttered ; 
 but Trueman reconciled the answer to his conscience by 
 choosing to consider that the conversation he had heard 
 had been on the demerits of the accused. 
 
 "I do not see, gentlemen, that you can challenge for 
 cause," observed his Honor " unless you have further 
 facts." 
 
 " Perhaps we have, sir," answered "Williams. " You were 
 saying, Mr. Trueman, that you met David Johnson as you 
 were going from the inn to the court-house. Did I under- 
 stand you correctly ? " 
 
 " Just so, squire. I had been having a long talk with 
 Peter Titus " one of Williams's most active and confiden- 
 tial agents "when Johnson came up. Johnson says, says 
 he, ' A pleasant day, gentlemen -I'm glad to see you both 
 out ; for the faces of old friends is getting scarce ' 
 
 " I see no objection to the juror's being received," Wil- 
 liams carelessly remarked ; satisfied that Titus had not 
 neglected his duty in that long talk. 
 
 " Yes, he is as good a juror as Dukes can furnish," ob- 
 served Timms, perfectly sure Johnson had turned to ac- 
 count the advantage of having the last word. Trueman 
 was accordingly admitted to the box, as the second man 
 of the twelve. The two managers of this cause were both 
 right. Titus had crammed his old acquaintance Trueman 
 with all that was circulating to the prejudice of the pris- 
 oner ; expressing surprise when he had said all he had to 
 say, at hearing that his friend was on the panel. "Well," 
 said Titus, as Johnson approached, " if questioned, you'll 
 remember I said I didn't dream of your being a juryman 
 
THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 261 
 
 but, just as like as not, you'll not be drawn for the case at 
 all." On the other hand, Johnson was quite eloquent and 
 pathetic in giving his old acquaintance the history of Mary 
 Monson's case, whom he pronounced "a most injured and 
 parsecuted woman." Trueman, a shrewd, managing fellow 
 in general, fancied himself just as impartial and fit to try 
 the cause, after he had heard the stories of the two men, as 
 he had ever been ; but in this he was mistaken. It requires 
 an unusually clear head, exceedingly high principles, and 
 a great knowledge of men, to maintain perfect impartiality 
 in these cases ; and certainly Trueman was not the man to 
 boast of all these rare qualities. In general, the last word 
 tells ; but it sometimes happens that first impressions be- 
 come difficult to eradicate. Such was the fact in the pres- 
 ent instance ; Trueman taking his seat in the jury box with 
 an exceedingly strong bias against the accused. 
 
 We are aware that these are not the colors in which it is 
 the fashion to delineate the venerable and much vaunted 
 institution of the jury, certainly a most efficient agent in 
 curtailing the power of a prince ; but just as certainly a 
 most irresponsible, vague, and quite often an unprincipled 
 means of administering the law, when men are not urged 
 to the desire of doing right by political pressure from with- 
 out, and are left to the perverse and free workings of a 
 very evil nature. We represent things as we believe them 
 to exist, knowing that scarce a case of magnitude occurs 
 in which the ministers of corruption are not at work 
 among the jurors or a verdict rendered in which the fingers 
 of the Father of Lies might not be traced, were the veil 
 removed, and the facts exposed to the light of day. It is 
 true, that in trials for life, the persecution of the prisoner 
 rarely takes so direct a form as has been represented in the 
 case of Mary Monson ; but the press and the tongue do an 
 incalculable amount of evil, even in such cases ; all the 
 ancient safeguards of the law having been either directly 
 removed by ill-considered legislation, or rendered dead- 
 letters by the " ways of the hour." 
 
 It was regarded as exceedingly good progress to get two 
 jurors into the box, in a capital case, -in the first half-hour. 
 His honor had evidently resigned himself to a twenty-four 
 hours' job ; and great was his satisfaction when he saw 
 Wattles and Trueman safely seated on their hard and un- 
 comfortable seats ; for it would almost seem that discom- 
 fort has been brought into the court-houses as a sort of 
 auxiliary to the old practice of starving a jury into a verdict, 
 
262 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 Whether it was owing to a suspicion, on the part of 
 Timms, of the truth in regard to his being over-reached in 
 the case of Trueman, or to some other cause, he raised no 
 objections to either of the six jurors next called. His 
 moderation was imitated by Williams. Then followed two 
 peremptory challenges ; one in behalf of the prisoner, and 
 one in behalf of the people, as it is termed. This was get- 
 ting on so much better than everybody expected, that all 
 were in good humor, and, it is not exceeding the truth, if 
 we add, in a slight degree more disposed to view the pris- 
 oner and her case with favor. On such trifles do human 
 decisions very often depend. 
 
 All this time, fully an hour, did Mary Monson sit in re- 
 signed submission to her fate, composed, attentive, and 
 singularly ladylike. The spectators were greatly divided 
 in their private speculations on her guilt or innocence. 
 Some saw in her quiet manner, curious interest in the pro- 
 ceedings, and unchanging color, proofs not only of a 
 hardened conscience, but of an experience in scenes similar 
 to that in which she was now engaged ; overlooking all the 
 probabilities, to indulge in conjectures so severe against 
 one so young. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," cried the judge, "time is precious. 
 Let us proceed." 
 
 The ninth juror was drawn, and it proved to be a 
 country trader of the name of Hatfield, This person was 
 known to be a man of considerable influence among per- 
 sons of his own class, and to have a reputation for judg- 
 ment, if not for principles. "They might as well send the 
 other eleven home, and let Hatfield pronounce the ver- 
 dict," whispered one lawyer to another ; " there is no ma- 
 terial in that box to withstand his logic." 
 
 "Then he will hold this young woman's life in his 
 hand," was the reply. 
 
 " It will be pretty much so. The glorious institution of 
 the jury is admirably devised to bring about such results." 
 
 " You forget the judge ; he has the last word, you will 
 remember." 
 
 " Thank God it is so ; else would our condition be ter- 
 rible. Lynch law is preferable to laws administered by 
 jurors who fancy themselves so many legislators." 
 
 " It cannot be concealed that the spirit of the times has 
 invaded the jury-box ; and the court has not one-half its 
 ancient influence. I should not like to have this Hatfield 
 against me." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 263 
 
 It would seem that Williams was of the same way of 
 thinking; for he muttered to himself, desired the juror 
 not to enter the box, and seemed to be pondering on the 
 course he ought to pursue. The truth was that he himself 
 had recently sued Hatfield' for debt, and the proceedings 
 had been a little vindictive. One of the dangers that your 
 really skilful lawyer has to guard against is the personal 
 animosity that is engendered by his own professional prac- 
 tice. Many men have minds so constituted that their 
 opinions are affected by prejudices thus created ; and they 
 do not scruple to transfer their hostility from the counsel 
 to the cause he is employed to defend. It is consequently 
 incumbent on the prudent lawyer to make his estimate of 
 character with judgment, and be as sure, as the nature of 
 the case will allow, that his client is not to suffer for his 
 own acts. As hostility to the counsel is not a legal objection 
 to a juror, Williams was under the necessity of presenting 
 such as would command the attention of the court. 
 
 " I wish the juror may be sworn to make true answers," 
 said Williams. 
 
 Timms now pricked up his ears ; for, if it were of im- 
 portance for Williams to oppose the reception of this par- 
 ticular individual, it was probably of importance to Mary 
 Monson to have him received. On this principle, there- 
 fore, he was ready to resist the attack on the juror, who 
 was at once sworn. 
 
 "You reside in the adjoining town of Blackstone, I be- 
 lieve, Mr. Hatfield?" asked Williams. 
 
 A simple assent was the reply. 
 
 "In practice there, in one of the learned professions?" 
 
 Hatfield was certain his interrogator knew better, for 
 Williams had been in his store fifty times ; but he answered 
 with the same innocent manner as that with which the 
 question was put. 
 
 " I'm in trade." 
 
 " In trade ! Keep a store, I dare say, Mr. Hatfield?" 
 
 " I do and one in which I have sold you hundreds my- 
 self." 
 
 A general smile succeeded this sally ; and Timms looked 
 round at the audience, with his nose pointing upward, as 
 if he scented his game. 
 
 " I dare say I pay as I go," returned Williams, " and 
 my memory is not loaded with such transactions " 
 
 "Mr. Williams," interrupted the judge, a little im- 
 patiently, " the time of the court is very precious." 
 
264 THE WAYS OF THE HCfTlR. 
 
 "So is the dignity of the outraged laws of the State, 
 your honor. We shall soon be through, sir. Many people 
 in the habit of frequenting your store, Mr. Hatfield ?" 
 
 "As much so*as is usual in the country." 
 
 " Ten or fifteen at a time, on some occasions ?" 
 
 "I dare say there may be." 
 
 " Has the murder of Peter Goodwin ever been discussed 
 by your customers in your presence ? " 
 
 "I don't know but it has such a thing is very likely; 
 but one hears so much, I can't say." 
 
 "Did you ever join in such a discussion yourself?" 
 
 "I may, or I may not." 
 
 " I ask you, now, distinctly, if you had no such discus- 
 sion on the 26th of May last, between the hours of eleven 
 and twelve in the forenoon ?" 
 
 The sharpness of the manner in which this question was 
 put, the minuteness of the details, and the particularity of 
 the interrogatories, quite confounded the juror, who an- 
 swered accordingly. 
 
 "Such a thing might have taken place, and it might not. 
 I do not remember." 
 
 " Is Jonas White " (a regular country loafer) " in the 
 habit of being in your store ?" 
 
 " He is it is a considerable lounge for laboring men." 
 
 "And Stephen Hook?" 
 
 " Yes ; he is there a good deal of his time." 
 
 " Now, I beg you to remember did not such a conversa- 
 tion take place, in which you bore a part, between the 
 hours of eleven and twelve in the forenoon ; White and 
 Hook being present ? " 
 
 Hatfield seemed perplexed. He very conscientiously 
 desired to tell the truth, having nothing to gain by an 
 opposite course ; but he really had no recollection of any 
 such discussion, as well might be the case ; no such con- 
 versation ever having taken place. Williams knew the 
 habits of the loafers in question, had selected the time at 
 random, and adopted the particularity merely as a means 
 of confounding the juror, of whom he w r as seriously 
 afraid. 
 
 ** Such a thing may have happened," answered Hatfield, 
 after a pause " I don't remember." 
 
 " It may have happened. Now, sir, allow me to ask you, 
 if, in that conversation, you did not express an opinion 
 that you did not, and could not believe that a lady educated 
 a<ad delicate, like the prisoner at the bar, did, or would, 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 265 
 
 under any circumstances, commit the offence with which 
 Mary Monson is charged ? " 
 
 Hatfield grew more and more confounded ; for Williams's 
 manner was more and more confident and cool. In this 
 state of feeling he suffered the reply to escape him 
 
 " I may have said as much it seems quite natural." 
 
 " I presume, after this," observed Williams, carelessly, 
 " your honor will, order the juror not to enter the box ? " 
 
 "Not so fast not so fast, brother Williams," put in 
 Timms, who felt it was now his turn to say a word, and 
 who was thumbing a small pocket-almanac very diligently 
 the while. 
 
 " This discussion, I understand the learned gentleman, 
 took place in the juror's store ? " 
 
 " It did, sir," was the answer " a place where such dis- 
 cussions are very apt to occur. Hook and White loaf half 
 their time away in that store." 
 
 "All quite likely very likely to happen Mr. Hatfield, 
 do you open your store on the Sabbath ?" 
 
 " Certainly not I am very particular to do nothing of 
 the sort." 
 
 "A church-member, I suppose, sir?" 
 
 "An undeserving one, sir." 
 
 " Never, on any account, in the practice of opening 
 your store of a Sabbath, I understand you to say ? " 
 
 " Never, except in cases of sickness. We must all re- 
 spect the wants of the sick." 
 
 " Are Hook and White in the habit of loafing about on 
 your premises of a Sunday ? " 
 
 " Never I wouldn't tolerate it. The store is a public 
 place on a week-day, and they can come in if they please ; 
 but I wouldn't tolerate such visits on the Sabbath." 
 
 " Yet, if the court please, the 26th of last May happened 
 to fall on the Sabbath day ! My brother Williams forgot 
 to look into the almanac before he made up his brief." 
 
 Here Timms sat down, cocking his nose still higher, 
 quite certain of having made a capital hit toward his views 
 on the Senate, though he actually gained nothing for the 
 cause. There was a general simper in the audience ; and 
 Williams felt that he had lost quite as much as his op- 
 ponent had gained. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, time is precious let us go on," in- 
 terposed the judge. " Is the juror to enter the box or not ? " 
 
 " I trust a trifling mistake as to the. day of the month is 
 not about to defeat the ends of justice," answered Wil- 
 
266 THE W 'AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 liams, raising himself higher on his stilts, as he found him- 
 self sinking lower in his facts. " I put it on the 26th by a 
 miscalculation, I can now see. It was probably on the 25th 
 Saturday is the loafer's holiday ; yes, it must have been 
 on Saturday the 25th that the conversation took place." 
 
 " Do you remember this fact, juror ? " 
 
 " I remember, now so much has been said on the sub- 
 ject," answered Hatfield, firmly, "that I was not at home 
 at all between the 20th and the 27th of May last. I could 
 have held'no such conversation on the 25th or 26th of 
 May ; nor do I know that I think Mary Monson either in- 
 nocent or guilty." 
 
 As all this was true, and was uttered with the confidence 
 of truth, it made an impression on the audience. Wil- 
 liams doubted ; for so fine was his skill in managing men, 
 that he often succeeded in gaining jurors by letting them 
 understand he suspected them of being prejudiced against 
 his case. With the weak and vain, this mode of proceed- 
 ing has frequently more success than a contrary course ; 
 the party suspected being doubly anxious to illustrate his 
 impartiality in his verdict. This was what Williams, and 
 indeed the bar, very generally calls " standing so erect as 
 to lean backward." 
 
 "Mr. Williams," said the judge, "you must challenge 
 peremptorily, or the juror will be received." 
 
 " No, your honor, the State will accept the juror; I now 
 see that my information has been wrong." 
 
 " We challenge for the defence," said Timms, deciding 
 on the instant, on the ground that if Williams was so ready 
 to change his course of proceeding, there must be a good 
 reason for it. " Stand aside, juror." 
 
 " Peter Bailey," called the clerk. 
 
 No objection being made, Peter Bailey took his seat. 
 The two next jurors were also received unquestioned ; and 
 it only remained to draw the twelfth man. This was so 
 much better luck than commonly happens in capital cases, 
 that everybody seemed more and more pleased, as if all 
 were anxious to come to the testimony. The judge evi- 
 dently felicitated himself, rubbing his hands with very 
 great satisfaction. The bar, generally, entered into his 
 feelings ; for it helped along its business. 
 
 " On the whole," observed one of the lawyers, who was 
 in extensive practice, speaking to another at his side, " I 
 would as soon try one of these murder cases as to go 
 through with a good water-cause." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 267 
 
 " Oh ! they are excruciating ! Get into a good water> 
 cause, with about thirty witnesses on a side, and you are in 
 for a week. I was three days at one, only last circuit" 
 
 " Are there many witnesses in this case ? " 
 
 " About forty, I hear," glancing toward the benches 
 where most of the females sat. " They tell me there will 
 be a very formidable array as to character. Ladies from 
 York by the dozen ! " 
 
 "They will be wanted, if all they say is true." 
 
 " If all you hear is true, we have reached a ruew epoch in 
 the history of mankind. I have never seen the day when 
 half of that I hear is more than half true. I set the rest 
 down as * leather and prunella.' " 
 
 " Robert Robinson," cried the clerk. 
 
 A respectable-looking man of fifty presented himself, 
 and was about to enter the box without stopping to ascer- 
 tain whether or not he would be welcome there. This 
 person had much more the air of the world than either of 
 the other jurors ; and with those who are not very partic- 
 ular, or very discriminating in such matters, might readily 
 enough pass for a gentleman. He was neatly dressed, 
 wore gloves, and had certain chains, an eyeglass, and other 
 appliances of the sort that it is not usual to see at a coun- 
 try circuit. Neither Williams nor Timms seemed to know 
 the juror ; but each looked surprised and undecided how 
 he ought to act. The peremptory challenges were not 
 exhausted ; and there was a common impulse in the two 
 lawyers, first to accept one so respectable in mien, and 
 attire, and general air ; and then, by a sudden revolution 
 of feeling, to reject one of whom they knew nothing. 
 
 " I suppose the summons is all right," Williams care- 
 lessly remarked. "The juror resides in Dukes ?" 
 
 " I do," was the answer. 
 
 " Is a freeholder, and entitled to serve ? " 
 
 A somewhat supercilious smile came over the counte- 
 nance of the juror ; and he looked round at the person who 
 could presume to make such a remark, with something 
 very like an air of contempt. 
 
 " I am Doctor Robinson," he then observed, laying 
 emphasis on his learned appellation. 
 
 Williams seemed at a loss ; for, to say the truth, he had 
 never heard of any such physician in the county. Timms 
 was quite as much mystified ; when a member of the bar 
 leaned across a table, and whispered to Dunscomb that the 
 juror was a celebrated quack, who made pills that would 
 
268 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 cure all diseases ; and who, having made a fortune, had 
 bought a place in the county, and was to all legal purposes 
 entitled to serve. 
 
 "The juror can stand aside," said Dunscomb, rising in 
 his slow dignified manner. "If it please the court, we 
 challenge peremptorily." 
 
 Timms looked still more surprised ; and when told the 
 reason for the course taken by his associate, he was even 
 sorry. 
 
 " The man is a quack" said Dunscomb, "and there is 
 quackery enough in this system of a jury, without calling 
 in assistance from the more open practitioners." 
 
 " I'm afraid, squire, he is just the sort of man we want. 
 I can work on such spirits, when I fail altogether with 
 more every-day kind of men. A little quackery does no 
 harm to some causes." 
 
 " Ira Kingsland," called out the clerk. 
 
 Ira Kingsland appeared, a staid, solid, respectable hus- 
 bandman one of those it is a mistaken usage of the coun- 
 try to term yeomen ; and of a class that contains more use- 
 ful information, practical good sense and judgment, than 
 might be imagined, under all the circumstances. 
 
 As no objection was raised, this jure** was received, and 
 the panel was complete. After cautioning *he jurors about 
 listening and talking, in the usual way, the jud^e adjourned 
 the court for dinner. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 I know it is dreadful ! I feel the 
 
 Anguish of thy generous soul but I was born 
 
 To murder all who love me. George BarnwelL 
 
 DUNSCOMB was followed to his room by Millington, be- 
 tween whom and himself, John Wilmeter had occasion to 
 remark, a sudden intimacy had sprung up. The counsel- 
 lor had always liked his student, or he would never have 
 consented to give him his niece ; but it was not usual for 
 him to hold as long, or seemingly as confidential conversa- 
 tions with the young man, as now proved to be the case. 
 When the interview was over, Millington mounted a horse 
 and galloped off, in the direction of town, in that almost 
 exploded manner of moving. Time was, and that within 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 264 
 
 the memory of man, when the gentlemen of New York 
 were in their saddles hours each day ; but all this is chang- 
 ing with the times. We live in an age of buggies, the gig, 
 phaeton, and curricle having disappeared, and the utili- 
 tarian vehicle just named having taken their places. Were 
 it not for the women, who still have occasion for closer 
 carriages, the whole nation would soon be riding about in 
 buggies ! Beresford is made, by one of his annotators, to 
 complain that everything like individuality is becoming 
 lost in England, and that the progress of great improve- 
 ments must be checked, or independent thinkers will 
 shortly be out of the question. If this be true of England, 
 what might not be said on the same subject of America ? 
 Here, where there is so much community as to have com- 
 pletely ingulfed everything like individual thought and ac- 
 tion, we take it the most imitative people on earth are to 
 be found. This truth is manifested in a thousand things. 
 Every town is getting its Broadway, thus defeating the 
 very object of names ; to-day the country is dotted with 
 Grecian temples, to-morrow with Gothic villages, all the 
 purposes of domestic architecture being sadly forgotten in 
 each ; and, as one of the Spensers is said to have intro- 
 duced the article of dress which bears his name, by betting 
 he could set the fashion of cutting off the skirts of the 
 coat, so might one who is looked up to, in this country, al- 
 most set the fashion of cutting off the nose. 
 
 Dunscomb, however, was a perfectly original thinker. 
 This he manifested in his private life, as well as in his pub- 
 lic profession. His opinions were formed in his own way, 
 and his acts were as much those of the individual as cir- 
 cumstances would at all allow. His motives in dj^patch- 
 ing Millington so suddenly to town were known to him- 
 self, and will probably be shown to the reader, as the 
 narrative proceeds. 
 
 "Well, sir, how are we getting on ?" asked John Wil- 
 meter, throwing himself into a chair, in his uncle's room, 
 with a heated and excited air. " I hope things are going 
 to your mind ? " 
 
 " We have got a jury, Jack, and that is all that can be 
 said in the matter," returned the uncle, looking over some 
 papers as the conversation proceeded. "It is good prog- 
 ress, in a capital case, to get a jury impanelled in the first 
 forenoon." 
 
 " You'll have the verdict in by this time to-morrow, sir, 
 I'm afraid ! " 
 
270 TJIE /r.-M'.V OF 77/A //Of 'A'. 
 
 11 Why, afraid, boy ? The sooner the poor woman is ac- 
 quitted, the better it will be for her" 
 
 " Ay, if she be acquitted ; but I fear everything is look- 
 ing dark in the case." 
 
 " And this from you, who fancied the accused an angel 
 of light, only a week since ! " 
 
 " She is certainly a most fascinating creature, when she 
 chooses to be" saicl John, with emphasis ; " but she does not 
 always choose to appear in that character." 
 
 " She is most certainly a fascinating creature, when she 
 chooses to be ! " returned the uncle, with very much the same 
 sort of emphasis. 
 
 But Dunscomb's manner was very different from that of 
 his nephew. John was excited, petulant, irritable, and in 
 a state to feel and say disagreeable things ; dissatisfied with 
 himself, and consequently not very well pleased with 
 others. A great change had come over his feelings, truly, 
 within the last week, and the image of the gentle Anna 
 Updyke was fast taking the place of that of Mary Monson. 
 As the latter seldom saw the young man, and then only at 
 the gate, the former had got to be the means of communica- 
 tion between the youthful advocate and his client, throwing 
 them constantly in each other's way. On such occasions 
 Anna was always so truthful, so gentle, so earnest, so nat- 
 ural, and so sweetly feminine, that John must have been 
 made of stone to remain insensible of her excellent quali- 
 ties. If women did but know how much their power, not 
 to say charms, are increased by gentleness, by tenderness 
 in lieu of coldness of manner, by keeping within the nat- 
 ural circle of their sex's feelings, instead of aping an inde- 
 pendence and spirit more suited to men than to their own 
 condition, we should see less of discord in domestic life, 
 happier wives, better mothers, and more reasonable mis- 
 tresses. No one knew this better than Dunscomb, who had 
 not been an indifferent spectator of his nephew's course, 
 and who fancied this a favorable moment to say a word to 
 him, on a subject that he felt to be important. 
 
 "This choosing to be is a very material item in the female 
 character," continued the counsellor, after a moment of 
 silent and profound thought. " Whatever else you may 
 do, my boy, in the way of matrimony, marry a gentle and 
 feminine woman. Take my word for it, there is no true 
 happiness with any other."" 
 
 " Women have their tastes and caprices, and like to in 
 dulge them, sir, as well as ourselves." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 271 
 
 " All that may be true, but avoid what is termed a wo- 
 man of independent spirit They are usually so many 
 devils incarnate. If they happen to unite moneyed inde- 
 pendence with moral independence, I am not quite certain 
 that their tyranny is not worse than that of Nero. A 
 tyrannical woman is worse than a tyrannical man, because 
 she is apt to be capricious. At one time she will blow hot, 
 at the next cold ; at one time she will give, at the next 
 clutch back her gifts ; to-day she is the devoted and obe- 
 dient wife, to-morrow the domineering partner. No, no, 
 Jack, marry a woman ; which means a kind, gentle, affec- 
 tionate, thoughtful creature, whose heart is so full of you, 
 there is no room in it for herself. Marry just such a girl 
 as Anna Updyke, if you can get her." 
 
 "I thank you, sir," answered John, coloring. " I dare 
 say the advice is good, and I shall bear it in mind. What 
 would you think of a woman like Mary Monson, for a 
 wife ? " 
 
 Dunscomb turned a vacant look at his nephew, as if his 
 thoughts were far away, and his chin dropped on his 
 bosom. This abstraction lasted but a minute, however, 
 when the young man got his answer. 
 
 "Mary Monson is a wife, and I fear a bad one," returned 
 the counsellor. " If she be the woman I suppose her to be, 
 her history, brief as it is, is a very lamentable one. John, 
 you are my sister's son, and my heir. You are nearer to 
 me than any other human being, in one sense, though I 
 certainly love Sarah quite as well as I do you, if not a lit- 
 tle better. These ties of feeling are strange links in our 
 nature ! At one time I loved your mother with a tender- 
 ness such as a father might feel for a child ; in short, with 
 a brother's love a brother's love for a young, and pretty, 
 and good girl, and I thought I could never love another 
 as I loved Elizabeth. She returned my affection, and there 
 was a period of many years when it was supposed that we 
 were to pass down the vale of life in company, as brother 
 and sister old bachelor and old maid. Your father de- 
 ranged all this, and at thirty-four my sister left me. It 
 was like pulling my heart-strings out of me, and so much 
 Ihe worse, boy, because they were already sore." 
 
 John started. His uncle spoke hoarsely, and a shudder, 
 that was so violent as to be perceptible to his companion, 
 passed through his frame. The cheeks of the counsellor 
 were usually colorless ; now they appeared absolutely 
 pallid 
 
272 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "This, then," thought John Wilmetcr, " is the insensible 
 old bachelor, who was thought to live altogether for him- 
 self. How little does the world really know of what is 
 passing within it ! Well may it be said, ' There is a skele- 
 ton in every house.' " 
 
 Dunscomb soon recovered his self-command. Reaching 
 forth an arm, he took his nephew's hand, and said affec- 
 tionately 
 
 " I am not often thus, Jack, as you must know. A vivid 
 recollection of days that have long been past came freshly 
 over me, and I believe I have been a little unmanned. To 
 you, my early history is a blank ; but a very few words will 
 serve to tell you all you need ever know. I was about 
 your time of life, Jack, when I loved, courted, and became 
 engaged to Mary Millington Michael's great-aunt. Is 
 this new to you ? " 
 
 "Not entirely, sir ; Sarah has told me something of the 
 same sort you know the girls get hold of family anecdotes 
 sooner than we men." 
 
 " She then probably told you that I was cruelly, heart- 
 lessly jilted for a richer man. Mary married, and left one 
 daughter ; who also married early, her own cousin, Frank 
 Millington, the cousin of Michael's father. You may now 
 see why I have ever felt so much interest in your future 
 brother-in-law." 
 
 "He is a good fellow, and quite free from all jilting 
 blood. I'll answer for it. But, what has become of this 
 Mrs. Frank Millington ? I remember no such person." 
 
 " Like her mother, she died young, leaving an only 
 daughter to inherit her name and very ample fortune. The 
 reason you never knew Mr. Frank Millington is probably 
 because he went to Paris early, where he educated his 
 daughter, in a great degree there, and in England and 
 when he died, Mildred Millington, the heiress of both 
 parents, is said to have had quite twenty thousand a year. 
 Certain officious friends made a match for her, I have 
 heard, with a Frenchman of some family, but small means 
 and the recent revolution had driven them to this country, 
 where, as I have been told, she took the reins of domestic 
 government into her own hands, until some sort of a sepa- 
 ration has been the consequence." 
 
 " Why this account is surprisingly like the report we 
 have had concerning Mary Monson, this morning ! " cried 
 Jack, springing to his feet with excitement. 
 
 " I believe her to be the same person. Many things unite 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 273 
 
 io create this opinion. In the first place, there is certainly 
 a marked family resemblance to her grandmother and 
 mother ; then the education, manners, languages, money, 
 Marie Moulin, and the initials of the assumed name, each 
 and all have their solution in this belief. The ' Mademoi- 
 selle ' and the * Madame ' of the Swiss maid are explained ; 
 in short, if we can believe this Mary Monson to be Madame 
 de Larcfcheforte, we can find an explanation of everything 
 that is puzzling in her antecedents." 
 
 " But why should a woman of twenty thousand a year be 
 living in the cottage of Peter Goodwin ? " 
 
 " Because she is a woman of twenty thousand a year. 
 Monsieur de Larocheforte found her money was altogether 
 at her own command, by this new law, and naturally 
 enough, he desired to play something more than a. pup- 
 pet's part in his own abode and family. The lady clings 
 to her dollars, which she loves more thai? her husband ; a 
 quarrel ensues, and she chooses to retire from his protec- 
 tion, and conceals herself, for a time, under Peter Good- 
 win's roof, to evade pursuit. Capricious and wrong-headed 
 w T omen do a thousand strange things, and thoughtless 
 gabblers often sustain them in what they do." 
 
 " This is rendering the marriage tie very slight ! " 
 
 "It is treating it with contempt ; setting at naught the 
 laws of God and man one's duties and the highest obli- 
 gations of woman. Still, many of the sex fancy if they 
 abstain from one great and distinct offence, the whole cata- 
 logue of the remaining misdeeds is at their mercy." 
 
 " Not to the extent of murder and arson, surely ! Why 
 should such a woman commit these crimes ?" 
 
 " One never knows. We are fearfully constituted, John : 
 morally and physically. The fairest form often conceals 
 the blackest heart, and vice versa. But I am now satisfied 
 that there is a vein of insanity in this branch of the Mil- 
 lingtons ; and it is possible Madame de Larocheforte is 
 more to be pitied than to be censured." 
 
 " You surely do not think her guilty, Uncle Tom ?" 
 
 The counsellor looked intently at his nephew, shaded 
 his brow a moment, gazed upward, and answered 
 
 "I do. There is such a chain of proof against her as will 
 scarce admit of explanation. I am afraid, Jack I am 
 afraid that she has done these deeds, terrible as they are ! 
 Such has been my opinion, now, for some time ; though 
 my mind has vacillated, as I make no doubt will prove to 
 be the case with those of most of the jurors. It is a sad 
 
274 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 alternative but I see no safety for her except in the plea 
 of insanity. I am in hopes that something may be made 
 out in that respect." 
 
 " We are quite without witnesses to the point ; are we 
 not, sir ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; but Michael Millington has gone to town 
 to send by telegraph for the nearest connections of 
 Madame de Larocheforte, who are in the neighborhood of 
 Philadelphia. The husband himself is somewhere on the 
 Hudson. He must be hunted up too. Michael will see to 
 all this. I shall get the judge to adjourn early this even- 
 ing ; and we must spin out the trial for the next day or 
 two, in order to collect our forces. The judge is young 
 and indulgent. He has certain ridiculous notions about 
 saving the time of the public ; but does not feel secure 
 enough in his seat to be very positive." 
 
 At this instant Timms burst into the room, in a high 
 state of excitement, exclaiming, the moment he was sure 
 that his words would not reach any hostile ears 
 
 " Our case is desperate ! All the Burtons are coming 
 out dead against us ; and neither * the new philanthropy,' 
 nor ' Friends,' nor ' anti-gallows,' can save us. I never 
 knew excitement get up so fast. It is the infernal aristoc- 
 racy that kills us ! Williams makes great use of it ; and 
 our people will not stand aristocracy. See what a mag- 
 nanimous report to the legislature the learned attorney- 
 general has just made on the subject of aristocracy. How 
 admirably he touches up the kings and countesses ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " exclaimed Dunscomb, with a contemptuous 
 curl of the lip "not one in a thousand knows the mean- 
 ing of the word ; and he among the rest. The report you 
 mention is that of a refined gentleman, to be sure, and is 
 addressed to his equals. What exclusive political privilege 
 does Mary Monson possess ? or what does the patroon, un- 
 less it be the privilege of having more stolen from him, by 
 political frauds, than any other man in the State ? This 
 cant about social aristocracy, even in a state of society in 
 which the servant deserts his master with impunity, in the 
 midst of a dinner, is very miserable stuff! Aristocracy, 
 forsooth ! If there be aristocracy in America, the black- 
 guard is the aristocrat. Away, then, with all this trash, 
 and speak common-sense in future." 
 
 " You amaze me, sir ! Why I regard you as a sort of 
 aristocrat, Mr. Dunscomb." 
 
 " Me ! And what do you see aristocratic about me, pray ? * 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 275 
 
 "Why, sir, you don't look like the rest of us. Your very 
 walk is different your language, manners, dress, habits 
 and opinions, all differ from those of the Dukes County 
 bar. Now, to my notion, that is being exclusive and 
 peculiar ; and whatever is peculiar is aristocratic, is it 
 not ? " 
 
 Here Dunscomb and his nephew burst out in a laugh ; 
 and, for a few minutes, Mary Monson was forgotten. 
 Timms was quite in earnest ; for he had fallen into the 
 every-day notions, in this respect, and it was not easy to 
 get him out of them. 
 
 " Perhaps the Dukes County bar contains the aristocrats, 
 and I am the serf ! " said the counsellor. 
 
 " That cannot be you must be the aristocrat, if any 
 there be among us. I don't know why it is so, but so it is; 
 yes, you are the aristocrat, if there be one at our bar." 
 
 Jack smiled, and looked funny, but he had the discre- 
 tion to hold his tongue. He had heard that a Duke of 
 Norfolk, the top of the English aristocracy, was so re- 
 markable for his personal habits as actually to be offen- 
 sive ; a man who, according to Timms's notions, would 
 have been a long way down the social ladder ; but who, 
 nevertheless, was a top peer, if not a top sawyer. It was 
 jasy to see that Timms confounded a gentleman with an 
 aristocrat ; a confusion in ideas that is very common, and 
 which is far from being unnatural, when it is remembered 
 how few formerly acquired any of the graces of deport- 
 ment who had not previously attained positive, exclusive, 
 political rights. As for the attorney-general and his re- 
 port, Jack had sufficient sagacity to see it was a document 
 that said one thing and meant another ; professing defer- 
 ence for a people that it did not stop to compliment with 
 the possession of either common honesty or good man- 
 ners. 
 
 " I hope my aristocracy is not likely to affect the inter- 
 ests of my client." 
 
 " No ; there is little danger of that. It is the democracy 
 of the Burtons which will do that. I learn from Johnson 
 that they are coming out stronger and stronger ; and I 
 feel certain Williams is sure of their testimony. By the 
 way, sir, I had a hint from him, as we left the court-house, 
 that the five thousand dollars might jW take him from the 
 field." 
 
 "This Mr. Williams, as well as yourself, Timms, must be 
 more cautious, or the law will yet assert its power. It is 
 
^76 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 very much humbled, I am aware, under the majesty of the 
 people and a feeble administration of its authority ; but 
 its arm is long, and its gripe potent, when it chooses to ex- 
 ert its force. Take my advice, and have no more to do 
 with such arrangements." 
 
 The dinner-bell put an end to the discussion. Timms 
 yanished like a ghost ; but Dunscomb, whose habits were 
 gentleman-like, and who knew that Mrs. Horton had as- 
 signed a particular seat to him, moved more deliberately ; 
 following his nephew about the time Timms was half 
 through the meal. 
 
 An American tavern-dinner, during the sitting of the 
 circuit, is every way worthy of a minute and graphic 
 description ; but our limits will hardly admit of our as- 
 suming the task. If " misery makes a man acquainted 
 with strange bed-fellows," so does the law. Judges, advo- 
 cates, witnesses, sheriffs, clerks, constables, and not unfre- 
 quently the accused, dine in common, with railroad speed. 
 The rattling of knives, forks, and spoons, the clatter of 
 plates, the rushing of waiters, landlord, landlady, chamber- 
 maids, hostler and -barkeeper included, produce a confu- 
 sion that would do honor to the most profound " republi- 
 can simplicity." Everything approaches a state of nature 
 but the eatables ; and they are invariably overdone. On 
 an evil day some Yankee invented an article termed a 
 "cooking-stove ;" and since its appearance everything like 
 good cookery has vanished from the common American 
 table. There is plenty spoiled, abundance abused. Of 
 made dishes, with the exception of two or three of very 
 simple characters, there never were any ; and these have 
 been burned to cinders by the baking processes of the 
 "cook-stoves." 
 
 It matters little, however, to the convives of a circuit- 
 court dinner, what the dishes are called, or of what they 
 are composed. " Haste " forbids "taste ;" and it actually 
 occurred that day, as it occurs almost invariably on such 
 occasions, that a very clever country practitioner was asked 
 the materiel of the dish he had been eating, and he could 
 not tell it ! Talk of the mysteries of French cookery ! 
 The "cook-stove" produces more mystery than all the art 
 of all the culinary artists of Paris ; and this, too, on a 
 principle that tallies admirably with that of the purest 
 " republican simplicity ; " since it causes all things to taste 
 alike. 
 
 To a dinner of this stamp Dunscomb now sat down, just 
 
THE W 'AYS 01' THE HOUR. 273 
 
 ten minutes after the first clatter of a plate was heard, and 
 just as the only remove was seen, in the form of slices of 
 pie, pudding, and cake. With his habits, railroad speed, 
 or lightning-like eating could find no favor ; and he and 
 Jack got their dinner, as best they might, amid the con- 
 fusion and remnant of the close of such a repast. Nine- 
 tenths of those who had so lately been at work as trencher- 
 men were now picking their teeth, smoking cigars, or pre- 
 paring fresh quids for the afternoon. A few clients were 
 already holding their lawyers by the button ; and here and 
 there one of the latter led the way to his room to " settle " 
 some slander cause in which the plaintiff had got frightened. 
 
 It is a bad sign when eating is carried on without con- 
 versation. To converse, however, at such a table, is, mor- 
 ally if not physically, impossible. Morally, because each 
 man's mind is so intent on getting as much as he wants 
 that it is almost impossible to bring his thoughts to bear 
 on any other subject ; physically, on account of the clat- 
 ter, a movement in which an eclipse of a plate by the body 
 of a waiter is no unusual thing, and universal activity of 
 the teeth. Conversation under such circumstances would 
 be truly a sort of ventriloquism ; the portion of the hu- 
 man frame included in the term being all in all just at that 
 moment. 
 
 Notwithstanding those embarrassments and unpleasant 
 accompaniments, Dunscomb and his nephew got their din- 
 ners, and were about to quit the table as McBrain entered. 
 The doctor would not expose his bride to the confusion of 
 the common table, where there was so much that is revolt- 
 ing to all trained in the usages of good company, singularly 
 blended with a decency of deportment, and a considera- 
 tion for the rights of each, that serve to form bright spots 
 in American character ; but he had obtained a more pri- 
 vate room for the females of his party. 
 
 "We should do pretty well," observed McBrain, in ex- 
 plaining his accommodations, "were it not for a trouble- 
 some neighbor in an adjoining room, who is either insane 
 or intoxicated. Mrs. Horton has put us in your wing, 
 and I should think you must occasionally hear from him 
 too ? " 
 
 " The man is constantly drunk, they tell me, and is a 
 little troublesome at times. On the whole, however, he 
 does not annoy me much. I shall take the liberty of din- 
 ing with you to-morrow, Ned ; this eating against time 
 does not agree with my constitution." 
 
278 THE WAYS OF T77F. HOUR. 
 
 "To-morrow! I was thinking that my examination 
 would be ended this afternoon, and that we might returr? 
 to town in the morning. You will remember I have pa- 
 tients to attend to." 
 
 " You will have more reason for patience. If you get 
 through in a week, you will be lucky." 
 
 " It is a curious case ! I find all the local faculty ready 
 to swear through thick and thin against her. My own 
 opinion is fixed but what is the opinion of one man 
 against those of several in the same profession ?" 
 
 "We will put that question to Mrs. Horton, who is com- 
 ing to ask how we have dined. Thank'ee, my good Mrs. 
 Horton, we have done remarkably well, considering all the 
 circumstances." 
 
 The landlady was pleased, and smirked, and expressed 
 her gratification. The sous cnlendu of Dunscomb was lost 
 upon her : and human vanity is very apt to accept the flat- 
 tering, and to overlook the disagreeable. She was pleased 
 that the great York lawyer was satisfied. 
 
 Mrs. Horton was an American landlady, in the strictest 
 sense of the \vord. This implies many features distinct 
 from her European counterpart ; some of which tell greatly 
 in her favor, and others not so much so. Decency of exte- 
 rior, and a feminine deportment, are so characteristic" of 
 the sex in this country, that they need scarcely be adverted 
 to. There were no sly jokes, no doubles entendres with Mrs. 
 Horton ; who maintained too grave a countenance to admit 
 of such liberties. Then, she was entirely free from the lit- 
 tle expedients of a desire to gain that are naturally enough 
 adopted in older communities, where the pressure of num- 
 bers drives the poor to their wits' end in order to live. 
 American abundance had generated American liberality 
 in Mrs. Horton ; and if one of her guests asked for bread, 
 she would give him the loaf. She was, moreover, what the 
 country round termed "accommodating;" meaning that 
 she was obliging and good-natured. Her faults were a 
 fierce love of gossip, concealed under a veil of great indif- 
 ference and modesty, a prying curiosity, and a determina- 
 tion to know everything touching everybody who ever 
 came under her roof. This last propensity had got her 
 into difficulties, several injurious reports having been 
 traced to her. tongue, which was indebted to her imagina- 
 tion for fully one-half of what she had circulated. It is 
 scarcely necessary to add, that, among the right set, Mrs. 
 Horton was a great talker. As Dunscomb was a favorite 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 279 
 
 he was not likely to escape on the present occasion ; the 
 room being clear of all the guests but those of his own 
 party. 
 
 "I am glad to get a little quiet talk with you, Squire 
 Dunscomb," the landlady commenced; "for a body can 
 depend on what is heard from such authority. Do they 
 mean to hang Mary Monson ?" 
 
 " It is rather premature to ask that question, Mrs. Hor- 
 ton. The jury is impanelled, and there we stand at present." 
 
 " Is it a good jury ? Some of our Dukes County juries 
 are none too good, they tell me." 
 
 " The whole institution is a miserable contrivance for the 
 administration of justice. Could a higher class of citizens 
 compose the juries, the system might still do, with a few 
 improvements." 
 
 "Why not elect them?" demanded the landlady, who 
 was, ex officio, a politician, much as women are usually poli- 
 ticians in this country. In other words, she/<?// her opin- 
 ions, without knowing their reasons. 
 
 " God forbid, my good Mrs. Horton we have elective 
 judges ; that will do for the present. Too much of a good 
 thing is as injurious as the positively bad. I prefer the 
 present mode of drawing lots." 
 
 "Have you got a Quaker in the box ? If you have, you 
 are safe enough." 
 
 '"I doubt if the district attorney would suffer that ; al- 
 though he appears to be kind and considerate. The man 
 who goes into that box must be prepared to hang if neces- 
 sary." 
 
 " For my part, I wish all hanging was done away with. 
 I can see no good that hanging can do a man." 
 
 "You mistake the object, my dear Mrs. Horton, though 
 your argument is quite as good as many that are openly 
 advanced on the same side of the question." 
 
 "Just hear me, squire," rejoined the woman; for she 
 loved dearly to get into a discussion on any question that 
 she was accustomed to hear debated among her guests. 
 " The country hangs a body to reform a body ; and what 
 good can that do when a body is dead ? " 
 
 "Very ingeniously put," returned the counsellor, politely 
 offering his box to the landlady, who took a few grains , 
 and then deliberately helping himself to a pinch of snuff 
 "quite as ingeniously as much of the argument that ap- 
 pears in public. The objection lies to the premises, and 
 not to the deduction, which is absolutely logical and just. 
 
2 So THE WAYS OF THE HOTR. 
 
 A hanged body is certainly an unreformed body ; and, 
 as you say, it is quite useless to hang in order to re- 
 form." 
 
 "There!" exclaimed the woman in triumph "I told 
 Squire Timms that a gentleman who knows as much as 
 you do must be on our side. Depend on one thing, Law- 
 yer Dunscomb, and you too, gentlemen depend on it, that 
 Mary Monson will never be hanged." 
 
 This was said with a meaning so peculiar, that it struck 
 Dunscomb, who watched the woman's earnest countenance 
 while she was speaking, with undeviating interest and in- 
 tensity. 
 
 'It is my duty and my wish, Mrs. Horton, to believe as 
 much, and to make others believe it also, if I can," he an- 
 swered, now anxious to prolong a discourse that a moment 
 before he had found tiresome. 
 
 " You can, if you will only try. I believe in dreams 
 and I dreamt a week ago that Mary Monson would be ac- 
 quitted. It would be ag'in all our new notions to hang so 
 nice a lady." 
 
 " Our tastes might take offence at it ; and taste is of some 
 influence yet, I am bound to agree with you." 
 
 " But you do agree with me in the uselessness of hang- 
 ing, when the object is to reform ? " 
 
 " Unfortunately for the force of that argument, my dear 
 landlady, society does not punish for the purposes of refor- 
 mation that is a very common blunder of superficial 
 philanthropists." 
 
 " Not for the purpose of reformation, squire ! You as- 
 tonish me ! Why, for what else should it punish ? " 
 
 " For its own protection. To prevent others from com- 
 mitting murder. Have you no other reason than your 
 dream, my good Mrs. Horton, for thinking Mary Monson 
 will be acquitted ? " 
 
 The woman put on a knowing look, and nodded her 
 head significantly. At the same time, she glanced toward 
 the counsellor's companions, as much as to say that their 
 presence prevented her being more explicit. 
 
 "Ned, do me the favor to go to your wife, and tell her 
 I shall stop in, and say a kind word as I pass her door ; 
 and, Jack, go and bid Sarah be in Mrs. McBrain's parlor, 
 ready to give me my morning's kiss." 
 
 The doctor and John complied, leaving Dunscomb alone 
 with the woman. 
 
 " May I repeat the question, my good landlady ? Why 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 281 
 
 do you think Mary Monson is to be acquitted?" asked 
 Dunscomb, in one of his softest tones. 
 
 Mrs. Horton mused, seemed anxious to speak, but strug- 
 gling with some power that withheld her. One of her 
 hands was in a pocket where the jingling of keys and pence 
 made its presence known. Drawing forth this hand me- 
 chanically, Dunscomb saw that it contained several eagles. 
 The woman cast her eyes on the gold, returned it hastily 
 to her pocket, rubbed her forehead, and seemed the wary, 
 prudent landlady once more. 
 
 " I hope you like your room, squire ? " she cried, in a 
 thoroughly inn-keeping spirit. " It's the very best in this 
 house ; though I'm obliged to tell Mrs. McBrain the same 
 story as to her apartment. But you have the best. You 
 have a troublesome neighbor between you, I'm afraid ; 
 but he'll not be there many days, and I do all I can to 
 keep him quiet." 
 
 "Is that man crazy?" asked the counsellor, rising, per- 
 ceiving that he had no more to expect from the woman 
 just then ; "or is he only drunk ? I hear him groan, and 
 then I hear him swear ; though I cannot understand what 
 he says." 
 
 " He's sent here by his friends ; and your wing is the 
 only place we have to keep him in. When a body is well 
 paid, squire, I suppose you know that the fee must not be 
 forgotten ? Now, inn-keepers have fees, as well as you 
 gentlemen of the bar. How wonderfully Timms is getting 
 along, Mr. Dunscomb ! " 
 
 " I believe his practice increases ; and they tell me he 
 stands next to Mr. Williams in Dukes." 
 
 " He does, indeed ; and a 'bright particular star,' as the 
 poet says, has he got to be ! " 
 
 " If he be a star at all," answered the counsellor, curling 
 his lips, "it must be a very particular one, indeed. I am 
 sorry to leave you, Mrs. Horton ; but the intermission is 
 nearly up." 
 
 Dunscomb gave a little friendly no'd, which the landlady 
 returned ; the former went his way with singular coolness 
 of manner, when it is remembered that on him rested the 
 responsibility of defending a fellow-creature from the gal- 
 lows. What rendered this deliberation more remarkable, 
 was the fact that he had no faith in the virtue of Mrs 
 Horton's dream. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Wilt thou behold me sinking in my woes, 
 And wilt thou not reach out a friendly arm, 
 To raise me from amidst this plunge of sorrow ? 
 
 ADDISON. 
 
 " CALL the names of the jurors, Mr. Clerk," said the 
 judge. "Mr. Sheriff, I do not see the prisoner in her 
 place." 
 
 This produced a stir. The jurors were called, and an- 
 swered to their names ; and shortly after Mary Monson 
 appeared. The last was accompanied by the ladies, who 
 might now be said to belong to her party, though no one 
 but herself and Marie Moulin came within the bar. 
 
 There was profound stillness in the hall, for it was felt 
 that now the issue of life or death was actually approach- 
 ing. Mary Monson gazed, not \vith disquietude, but in- 
 terest, at the twelve men who were to decide on her in- 
 nocence or guilt men of habits and opinions so differ- 
 ent from her own men so obnoxious to prejudices against 
 those whom the accidents of life had made objects of envy 
 or hatred men too much occupied with the cares of exist- 
 ence to penetrate the arena of thought, and who conse- 
 quently held their opinions at the mercy of others men 
 unskilled, because without practice, in the very solemn and 
 important office now imposed on them by the law men 
 who might indeed be trusted, so long as they would defer 
 to the court and reason, but who were terrible and dan- 
 gerous, when they listened, as is too apt to be the case, to 
 the suggestions of their own impulses, ignorance and prej- 
 udice. Yet these men were Mary Monson's peers, .in the 
 eyes of the law would have been so viewed and accepted 
 in a case involving the feelings and practices of social 
 caste, about which they knew absolutely nothing, or, what 
 is worse than nothing, a very iittle through the medium of 
 misrepresentation and mistaken conclusions. 
 
 It is the fashion to extol the institution of the jury. Our 
 own experience, by no means trifling, as foreman, as suit- 
 or, and as a disinterested spectator, does not lead us to 
 coincide in this opinion. A narrative of the corrupt, mis- 
 guided, partial, prejudiced, or ignorant conduct that we 
 have ourselves witnessed in these bodies, would make a 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 283 
 
 legend of its own. The power that most misleads such 
 men is one unseen by themselves, half the time, and is con- 
 sequently so much the more dangerous. The feelings of 
 neighborhood, political hostility, or party animosities, are 
 among the commonest evils that justice has to encounter, 
 when brought in contact with tribunals thus composed. 
 Then come the feelings engendered by social castes, an in- 
 exhaustible source of evil passions. Mary Monson had 
 been told of the risks she ran from that source ; though 
 she had also been told, and with great truth, that so much 
 of the spirit of God still remains in the hearts and minds 
 of men, as to render a majority of those who were to be the 
 arbiters of her fate conscientious and careful in a capital 
 case. Perhaps, as a rule, the singularity of his situation, 
 with a man who finds himself, for the first time, sitting as 
 a juror in a trial for a human life, is one of the most avail- 
 able correctives of his native tendencies to do evil. 
 
 " Mr. District Attorney, are you ready to proceed?" in- 
 quired the judge. 
 
 This functionary rose, bowed to the court and jury, and 
 commenced his opening. His manner was unpretend- 
 ing, natural, and solemn. Although high talent and or- 
 iginal thought are very rare in this country, as they are 
 everywhere else, there is a vast fund of intellect of a sec- 
 ondary order ever at the command of the public. The 
 district attorney of Dukes was a living witness of this truth. 
 He saw all within his reach clearly, and, possessing great 
 experience, he did his duty, on this occasion, in a very 
 creditable manner. No attempt was made to awaken prej- 
 udice of any sort against the accused. She was presented 
 by the grand inquest, and it was his and their painful duty, 
 including his honor on the bench, to investigate this 
 matter, and make a solemn decision, on their oaths. Mary 
 Monson was entitled to a fair hearing, to all the advantages 
 that the lenity of the criminal law of a very humane state 
 of society could afford, and for " God's sake let her be ac- 
 quitted should the State fail to establish her guilt ! " 
 
 Mr. District Attorney then proceeded to give a narrative 
 of the events as he supposed them to have occurred. He 
 spoke of the Goodwins as "poor, but honest" people, a sort 
 of illustration that is in much favor, and deservedly so, when 
 true. "It seems, gentlemen," the district attorney con- 
 tinued, " that the wife had a propensity, or a fancy, to 
 collect gold pieces, no doubt as a store against the wants 
 of age. This money was kept in a stocking, according to 
 
284 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 the practice of country ladies, and was often exhibited to 
 the neighbors. We may have occasion, gentlemen, to show 
 you that some fifteen or twenty persons, at different times, 
 have seen and handled this gold. You need not be told 
 what natural curiosity is, but must all know how closely 
 persons little accustomed to see money of this sort would 
 be apt to examine the more rare pieces in particular. There 
 happened to be several of these pieces among the gold of 
 Mrs. Goodwin ; and one of them was an Italian or Dutch 
 coin, of the value of four dollars, which commonly goes 
 by the name of the king whose likeness is on the piece. 
 This Dutch or Italian coin, no matter which, or William, 
 was seen, and handled, and examined, by several persons, 
 as we shall show you. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen, the stocking that contained the gold 
 coins was kept in a bureau, which bureau was saved from 
 the fire, with all its contents ; but the stocking and the 
 gold were missing ! These facts will be shown to you by 
 proof that puts them beyond a perad venture. We shall 
 next show to you, gentlemen, that on a public examination 
 of the prisoner at the bar, the contents of her purse were 
 laid open, and the Dutch or Italian coin I have mentioned 
 was found, along with more than a hundred dollars of other 
 pieces, which, being in American coin, can not so readily 
 be identified. 
 
 "The prosecution relies, in a great degree, on the proof 
 that will be offered in connection with this piece of money, 
 to establish the guilt of the prisoner. We are aware that, 
 when this piece of money was found on her person, she 
 affirmed it was hers ; that she had been possessed of two 
 such pieces, and that the one seen in Mrs. Goodwin's stock- 
 ing had been a present from herself to that unfortunate 
 woman. 
 
 " Gentlemen, if persons accused of crimes would vin- 
 dicate themselves by their own naked statements, there 
 would be very few convictions. Reason tells us that proof 
 must be met by proof. Assertions will not be received as 
 against the accused, nor will they be taken in her favor. 
 Your own good sense will tell you, gentlemen, that if it be 
 shown that Dorothy Goodwin possessed this particular 
 piece of gold, valued it highly, and was in the practice of 
 hoarding all the gold she could lay her hands on lawfully; 
 that the said Dorothy Goodwin's residence was burned, 
 she herself murdered by a savage and cruel blow or blows 
 t>n the occiput or head ^ that Mary Monson, the prisoner 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 285 
 
 at the bar, knew of the existence of this little stock of gold 
 coins, had seen it, handled it, and doubtless coveted it ; re- 
 siding in the same house, with easy access to the bedside 
 of the unhappy couple, with easy access to the bureau, to 
 the keys which opened that bureau, for its drawers were 
 found locked, just as Mrs. Goodwin was in the habit of 
 leaving them ; but, gentlemen, if all this be shown to you, 
 and we then trace the aforesaid piece of coin to the pocket 
 of Mary Monson, we make out a prima facie case of guilt, 
 as I conceive ; a case that will throw on her the onus of 
 showing that she came in possession of the said piece of 
 coin lawfully, and by no improper means. Failing of this, 
 your duty will be plain. 
 
 " It is incumbent on the prosecution to make out its 
 case, either by direct proof, on the oaths of credible wit- 
 nesses, or by such circumstances as shall leave no doubt in 
 your minds of the guilt of the accused. It is also incum- 
 bent that we show that the crimes, of which the prisoner 
 is accused, have been committed, and committed by her. 
 
 " Gentlemen, we shall offer you this proof. We shall 
 show you that the skeletons of which I have spoken, and 
 which lie under that pall, sad remains of a most ruthless 
 scene, are beyond all question the skeletons of Peter and 
 Dorothy Goodwin. This will be shown to you by proof ; 
 though all who know the parties can almost see the like- 
 ness in these sad relics of mortality. Peter Goodwin, as 
 will be shown to you, was a very short, but sturdy man, 
 while Dorothy, his wife, was a woman of large size. The 
 skeletons meet this description exactly. They were found 
 on the charred wood of the bedstead the unhappy couple 
 habitually used, and on the very spot where they had passed 
 so many previous nights in security and peace. Everything 
 goes to corroborate the identity of the persons whose re- 
 mains have been found, and I regret it should be my duty 
 to add, that everything goes to fasten the guilt of these 
 murders on the prisoner at the bar. 
 
 "Gentlemen, although we rely mainly on the possession 
 of the Dutch or Italian coin, no matter which, to establish 
 the case for the State, we shall offer you a great deal of 
 sustaining and secondary proof. In the first place, the 
 fact that a female, young, handsome, well, nay, expensively 
 educated, coming from nobody knows whence, to go no- 
 body knows whither, should suddenly appear in a place 
 as retired as the house of Peter Goodwin, why no one can 
 Say, is in itself very suspicious. Gentlemen, * all is not 
 
286 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 gold that glitters.' Many a man, and many a woman, in 
 places large as New York, are not what they seem to be. 
 They dress, and laugh, and sing, and appear to be among the 
 gayest of the gay, when they do not know where to lay their 
 heads at night. Large towns are moral blotches, they say, 
 on the face of the community, and they conceal many 
 things that will not bear the light. From one of these 
 large towns, it is to be presumed from her dress, manners, 
 education, amusements, and all belonging to her, came 
 Mary Monson, to ask an asylum in the dwelling of the 
 Goodwins. Gentlemen, why did she come ? Had she 
 heard of the hoard of Mrs. Goodwin, and did she crave the 
 possession of the 'gold? These questions it will be your 
 duty to answer in your verdict. Should the reply be in 
 the affirmative, you obtain, at once, a direct clew to the 
 motives of the murder. 
 
 " Among the collateral proof that will be offered are the 
 following circumstances, to which I now ask your partic- 
 ular attention, in order that you may give to the testi- 
 mony its proper value : It will be shown that Mary Mon- 
 son had a large sum in gold in her possession, after the 
 arson and murders, and consequently after the robbery, 
 but no one knew of her having any before. It will be 
 shown that she has money in abundance, scattering it right 
 and left, as we suppose, to procure her acquittal, and this 
 money, we believe, she took from the bureau of Mrs. Good- 
 win how much is not known. It is thought that the 
 sum was very large ; the gold alone amounted to near a 
 thousand dollars, and two witnesses will testify to a still 
 larger amount in bank-notes. The Goodwins talked of 
 purchasing a farm, valued at five thousand dollars ; and 
 as they were known never to run in debt, the fair infer- 
 ence is, that they must have had at least that sum by them. 
 A legacy was left Dorothy Goodwin within the last six 
 months, which we hear was very considerable, and we 
 hope to be able to put a witness on the stand who will tell 
 you all about it. 
 
 " But, gentlemen, a circumstance worthy of all atten- 
 tion in an investigation like this, is connected with an an- 
 swer to this question : Who is Mary Monson ? What are 
 her parentage, birthplace, occupation, and place of res- 
 idence ? Why did she come to Biberry at all ? In a word, 
 what is her past history ? Let this be satisfactorily ex- 
 plained, and a great step is taken toward her vindication 
 from these most grave charges. Shall we have witnesses 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 2&7 
 
 to character? No one will be happier to listen to them 
 than myself. My duty is far from pleasant. I sincerely 
 hope the prisoner will find lawful means to convince you 
 of her innocence. There is not one within the walls of 
 this building who will hear such a verdict, if sustained by 
 law and evidence, with greater pleasure than it will be 
 heard by me." 
 
 After pursuing this vein some time longer, the worthy 
 functionary of the State Showed a little of that cloven 
 foot which seems to grow on all, even to the cleanest heels, 
 who look to the popular voice for preferment. No mat- 
 ter who the man is, rich or poor, young or old, foolish 
 or wise, he bows down before the idol of Numbers, and 
 there worships. Votes being the one thing wanted, must 
 be bought by sacrifices on the altar of conscience. Now 
 it is by wild, and, half the time, impracticable schemes of 
 philanthropy, that, while they seem to work good to the 
 majority, are quite likely to disregard the rights of the 
 minority ; now 7 they are flourishes against negro slavery, 
 or a revolution in favor of the oppressed inhabitants of 
 Crim-Tartary, of the real state of which country we are 
 all as ignorant as its inhabitants are ignorant of us ; now 
 it's an exemption law, to enable a man to escape from the 
 payment of his just debts, directly in the teeth of the 
 sound policy, not to say morality, that if a man owe he 
 should be made to pay as long as he has anything to do it 
 ^vith ; now it is a hymn in praise of liberty, that the poet 
 neither comprehends nor cares to look into further than 
 may suit his ow r n selfish patriotism ; and now it is some 
 other of the thousand modes adopted by the designing to 
 delude the masses and advance themselves. 
 
 On this occasion the district attorney was very cautious, 
 but he showed the cloven foot. He paid a passing trib- 
 ute to the god of Numbers, worshipped before the hie- 
 rarchy of votes. "Gentlemen," he continued, "like my- 
 self, you are plain, unpretending citizens. Neither you, 
 nor your wives and daughters, speak in foreign tongues, 
 or play on foreign instruments of music. We have been 
 brought up in republican simplicity [God bless it! say 
 we, could we ever meet with it], and lay no claims to 
 superiority of any sort. Our place is in the body of the 
 nation, and there we are content to remain. We shall 
 pay no respect to dress, accomplishments, foreign lan- 
 guages, or foreign music ; but the evidence sustaining 
 us will show the world that the law frowns as well 6n 
 
488 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 the great as on the little : i.n the pretending as well as on 
 the unpretending." 
 
 As these grandiose sentiments were uttered, several of 
 the jurors half rose from their seats, in the eagerness to 
 hear, and looks of approbation passed from eye to eye. 
 This was accepted as good republican doctrine : no one 
 there seeing, or feeling, as taste and truth would have 
 shown, that the real pretension was on the side of an ex- 
 aggerated self-esteem, that prompted to resistance ere re- 
 sistance was necessary, under the influence of, perhaps, 
 the lowest passion of human nature we allude to envy. 
 With a little more in the same vein, the district attorney 
 concluded his opening. 
 
 The great coolness, not to say indifference, with which 
 Mary Monson listened to this speech, was the subject of 
 general comment among the members of the bar. At 
 times she had been attentive, occasionally betraying sur- 
 prise ; then indignation would just gleam in her remark- 
 able eye ; but, on the whole, an uncommon calmness 
 reigned in her demeanor. She had prepared tablets for 
 notes ; and twice she wrote in them as the district at- 
 torney proceeded. This was when he adverted to her past 
 life, and when he commented on the Dutch coin. While 
 he was speaking of castes, flattering one set under the 
 veil of pretending humility, and undermining their oppo- 
 sites, a look of quiet contempt was apparent in every feat- 
 ure of her very expressive face. 
 
 " If it please the court," said Dunscomb, rising in his 
 deliberate way, "before the prosecution proceeds with 
 its witnesses, I could wish to appeal to the courtesy 
 of the gentlemen on the other side for a list of their 
 names." 
 
 " I believe we are not bound to furnish any such list," 
 answered Williams, quickly. 
 
 " Perhaps not bound exactly in law ; but, it strikes me, 
 bound in justice. This is a trial for life ; the proceedings 
 are instituted by the State. The object is justice, not ven- 
 geance the protection of society through the agency of 
 an impartial, though stern justice. The State cannot wish 
 to effect anything by surprise. We are accused of murder 
 and arson, with no other notice of what is to be shown, or 
 how anything is to be shown, than what is contained in the 
 bill or complaint. Any one can see how important it may 
 be to us, to be apprised of the names of the witnesses a 
 little in advance, that we may inquire into character and 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 289 
 
 note probabilities. I do not insist on any right ; but I ask 
 a favor that humanity sanctions." 
 
 "If it please the court," said Williams, "we have an 
 important trust. I will here say that I impute nothing 
 improper to either of the prisoner's counsel ; but it is my 
 duty to suggest the necessity of our being cautious. A 
 great deal of money has been expended already in this 
 case, and there is always danger of witnesses being bought 
 off. On behalf of my client, I protest against the de- 
 mands being complied with." 
 
 " The court has no objection to the course asked by the 
 prisoner's counsel," observed the judge, " but cannot direct 
 it. The State can never wish its officers to be harsh or ex- 
 acting : but it is their duty to be prudent. Mr. District 
 Attorney, are you ready with your evidence ? Time is 
 precious, sir." 
 
 The testimony for the prosecution is now offered. We 
 shall merely advert to most of it, reserving our details for 
 those witnesses on whom the cause might be said to turn. 
 Two very decent-looking and well-behaved men, farm- 
 ers who resided in the vicinity of Biberry, were put on 
 the stand to establish the leading heads of the case. 
 They had known Peter and Dorothy Goodwin ; had often 
 stopped at the house ; and were familiarly acquainted with 
 the old couple, as neighbors. Remembered the fire was 
 present at it, toward its close. Saw the prisoner there ; 
 saw her descend, by a ladder ; and assisted in saving her 
 effects. Several trunks, carpet-bags, band-boxes, writing- 
 desks, musical instruments, etc., etc. All were saved. "// 
 seemed to them that they had been placed near the windows, in a 
 way to be handy" "After the fire, had never seen or heard 
 anything of the old man and his wife, unless two skeletons 
 that had been found were their skeletons. Supposed them 
 them to be the skeletons of Peter Goodwin and his wife." 
 Here the remains were for the first time on that trial ex 
 posed to view. " Those are the same skeletons, should 
 say had no doubt of it ; they are about the size of the old 
 couple. The husband was short ; the wife tall. Little or 
 no difference in their height. Had never seen the stock- 
 ing or the gold ; but had heard a good deal of talk of 
 them, having lived near neighbors to the Goodwins five- 
 and-twenty years." 
 
 Dunscomb conducted the cross-examination. He was 
 close, discriminating, and judicious. Separating the hear- 
 say and gossip from the facts known, he at once threw the 
 
 19 
 
290 THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 former to the winds, as matter not to be received by the 
 jury. We shall give a few of his questions and their an- 
 swers that have a bearing on the more material points of 
 the trial. 
 
 " I understand you to say, witness, that you knew both 
 Peter Goodwin and his wife." 
 
 " I did I knew them well saw them almost every day 
 of my life." 
 
 " For how long a time ? " 
 
 " This many a day. For five-and-twenty years, or a 
 little more." 
 
 " Will you say that you have been in the habit of seeing 
 Peter Goodwin and his wife daily, or almost daily, for 
 five-and-twenty years ? " 
 
 " If not right down daily, quite often ; as often as once 
 or twice a week, certainly." 
 
 " Is this material, Mr. Dunscomb ?" inquired the judge. 
 "The time of the court is very precious." 
 
 " It is material, your honor, as showing the looseness 
 with which witnesses testify ; and as serving to caution 
 the jury how they receive their evidence. The opening 
 of the prosecution shows us that if the charge is to be 
 made out at all against the prisoner, it is to be made out 
 on purely circumstantial evidence. It is not pretended 
 that any one saw Mary Monson kill the Goodwins ; but the 
 crime is to be inferred from a series of collateral facts, 
 that will be laid before the court and jury. I think your 
 honor will see how important it is, under the circum- 
 stances, to analyze the testimony, even on points that may 
 not seem to bear directly on the imputed crimes. If a 
 witness testify loosely, the jury ought to be made to see it. 
 I have a life to defend, your honor will remember." 
 
 " Proceed, sir ; the court will grant you the widest lati- 
 tude." 
 
 " You now say, as often as once or twice a week, wit- 
 ness ; on reflection, will you swear to even that ? " 
 
 11 Well, if not twice, I am sure I can say once" 
 
 Dunscomb was satisfied with this answer, which went to 
 show that the witness could reply a little at random, and 
 was not always certain of his facts, when pressed. 
 
 " Are you certain that Dorothy Goodwin is dead ? " 
 
 " I suppose I am as certain as any of the neighbors." 
 " That is not an answer to my question. Will you, and 
 do you swear on your oath, that Peter Goodwin, the per- 
 son named in the indictment, is actually dead ? " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 291 
 
 " I'll swear that I think so." 
 
 " That is not what I want. You see those skeletons 
 will you say, on your oath, that you know them to be the 
 skeletons of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin ? " 
 
 " I'll swear that I believe it." 
 
 " That does not meet the question. Do you know it ? " 
 
 " How can I know it ? I'm not a doctor or a surgeon. 
 No, I do not absolutely know it. Still, I believe that one 
 is the skeleton of Peter Goodwin, and the other the skele- 
 ton of his wife." 
 
 "Which do you suppose to be the skeleton of Peter 
 Goodwin ? " 
 
 This question puzzled the witness not a little. To the 
 ordinary eye, there was scarcely any difference in the ap- 
 pearance of these sad remains ; though one skeleton had 
 been ascertained by actual measurement to be about an 
 inch and a half longer than the other. This fact was 
 known to all in Biberry ; but it was not easy to say which 
 was which, at a glance. The witness took the safe course, 
 therefore, of putting his opinion altogether on a different 
 ground. 
 
 " I do not pretend to tell one from the other," was the 
 answer. " What I know of my own knowledge is this, and 
 this only. I knew Peter and Dorothy Goodwin ; knew the 
 house they lived in ; know that the house has been burned 
 down, and that the old folks are not about their old ha'nts. 
 The skeletons I never saw until they were moved from 
 the place where they tell me they were found ; for I was 
 busy helping to get the articles saved under cover." 
 
 " Then you do not pretend to know which skeleton is 
 that of a man, or which that of a woman ? " 
 
 This question was ingeniously put, and had the effect 
 to make all the succeeding witnesses shy on this point ; 
 for it created a belief that there was a difference that 
 might be recognized by those who are skilled in such 
 matters. The witness assented to the view of Dunscomb ; 
 and having been so far sifted as to show he knew no more 
 than all the rest of the neighbors, he was suffered to 
 quit the stand. The result was that very little was actu- 
 ally established by means of this testimony. It was evi- 
 dent that the jury was now on the alert, and not disposed 
 to receive all that was said as gospel. 
 
 The next point was to make out all the known facts of 
 the fire, and of the finding of the skeletons. The two wit- 
 nesses just examined had seen the close of the fire, had 
 
292 THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 heard of the skeletons, but had said very little more to the 
 purpose. Dunscomb thought it might be well to throw in 
 a hint to this effect in the present state of the case, as he 
 now did by remarking 
 
 " I trust that the district attorney will see precisely 
 where he stands. All that has yet been shown by legal 
 proof are the facts that there were such persons as Peter 
 and Dorothy Goodwin ; facts we are not at all disposed 
 to deny " 
 
 " And that they have not appeared in the flesh since 
 the night of the fire ?" put in Williams. 
 
 " Not to the witnesses ; but, to how many others, does 
 not appear." 
 
 " Does the learned counsel mean to set up the defence 
 that Goodwin and his wife are not dead ? " 
 
 " It is for the prosecution to show the contrary affirma- 
 tively. If it be so, it is fair to presume they can do it. 
 All I now contend for, is the fact that we have no proof 
 as yet that either is dead. We have proof that the house 
 was burned ; but we are now traversing an indictment for 
 murder, and not that for arson. As yet, it strikes me, 
 therefore, nothing material has been shown." 
 
 " It is certainly material, Mr. Dunscomb, that there 
 should have been such persons as the Goodwins, and that 
 they have disappeared since the night of the fire ; and 
 this much is proved, unless you impeach the witnesses," 
 observed the judge. 
 
 "Well, sir, that much we are not disposed to deny. 
 There were such persons as the Goodwins, and they 
 have disappeared from the neighborhood. We believe 
 that much ourselves." 
 
 " Crier, call Peter Bacon." 
 
 Bacon came forward, dressed in an entire new suit of 
 clothes, and appearing much more respectable than was 
 his wont. This man's testimony was almost word for word 
 as it has already been given in the coroner's inquest. He 
 established the facts of the fire, about which there could 
 be no prudent contention indeed, and of the finding of the 
 skeletons ; for he had been one of those who aided 
 in first searching the ruins for the remains. This man 
 told his story in an extremely vulgar dialect, as we have 
 had already occasion to show ; but in a very clear, dis- 
 tinct manner. He meant to tell the truth, and succeeded 
 reasonably well ; for it does not occur to all who have the 
 same upright intentions to effect their purposes as well 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 293 
 
 as he did himself. Dunscomb's cross-examination was 
 very brief ; for he perceived it was useless to attempt to 
 deny what had been thus proved. 
 
 " Jane Pope," called out the district attorney. " Is Mrs. 
 Jane Pope in court ? " 
 
 The Widow Pope was on the spot, and ready and will- 
 ing to answer. She removed her bonnet, took the oath, 
 and was shown to the seat with which it is usual to ac- 
 commodate persons of her sex. 
 
 " Your name," said Dunscomb, holding his pen over the 
 paper. 
 
 " Pope- Jane Pope since my marriage ; but Jane Ander- 
 son from my parents." 
 
 Dunscomb listened politely, but recorded no more than 
 the appellation of the widow. Mrs. Pope now proceeded 
 to tell her story, which she did reasonably well, though not 
 without a good deal of unnecessary amplitude, and some 
 slight contradictions. It was her intention, also, to tell 
 nothing but the truth ; but persons whose tongues move 
 as nimbly as that of this woman's do not always know ex- 
 actly what they do say. Dunscomb detected the contra- 
 dictions ; but he had the tact to see their cause, saw that 
 they were not material, and wisely abstained from con- 
 founding whatever of justice there was in the defence with 
 points that the jury had probably sufficient sagacity to see 
 were of no great moment. He made no note, therefore, of 
 these little oversights, and allowed the woman to tell her 
 whole story uninterrupted. When it came to his turn to 
 cross-examine, however, the duty of so doing was not neg- 
 lected. 
 
 " You say, Mrs. Pope, that you had often seen the stock- 
 ing in which Mrs. Goodwin kept her gold. Of what ma- 
 terial was that stocking ?" 
 
 "Wool yes, of blue woollen yarn. A stocking knit by 
 hand, and very darny." 
 
 " Should you know the stocking, Mrs. Pope, were you 
 to see it again ?" 
 
 " I think I might. Dolly Goodwin and I looked over 
 the gold together more than once ; and the stocking got 
 to be a sort of acquaintance." 
 
 " Was this it ?" continued Dunscomb, taking a stocking 
 of the sort described from Timms, who sat ready to pro- 
 duce the article at the proper moment. 
 
 "If it please the court," cried Williams, rising in haste 
 and preparing eagerly to interrupt the examination, 
 
294 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Your pardon, sir," put in Dunscomb, with great self, 
 command, but very firmly " words must not be put into 
 the witness's mouth, nor ideas into her head. She has 
 sworn, may it please your honor, to a certain stocking, 
 which stocking she described in her examination in 
 chief ; and we now ask her if this is that stocking. All 
 this is regular, I believe ; and I trust we are not to be in- 
 terrupted." 
 
 " Go on, sir," said the judge ; " the prosecution will not 
 interrupt the defence. But time is very precious." 
 
 " Is this the stocking ? " repeated Dunscomb. 
 
 The woman examined the stocking, looking inside and 
 out, turning it over and over, and casting many a curious 
 glance at the places that had been mended. 
 
 " It's dreadful darny, isn't it ? " she said, looking inquir- 
 ingly at the counsellor. 
 
 " It is as you see, ma'am. I have made no alteration 
 in it." 
 
 " I declare I believe this is the very stocking." 
 
 " At the proper time, your honor, we shall show that this 
 is not the stocking, if indeed there ever was such a stock- 
 ing at all," said Tim ins, rolling up the article in question, 
 and handing it to the clerk to keep. 
 
 " You saw a certain piece of gold, you say," resumed 
 Dunscomb, " which piece of gold I understand you to say 
 was afterward found in the pocket of Mary Monson. Will 
 you have the goodness to say whether the piece of gold 
 which you saw in Mrs. Goodwin's possession is among 
 these " showing a dozen coins ; " or whether one resem- 
 bling it is here ?" 
 
 The woman was greatly puzzled. She meant to be 
 honest ; had told no more than was true, with the excep- 
 tion of the little embellishments that her propensity to 
 imagine and talk rendered almost unavoidable ; but, for 
 the life of her, she could not distinguish the piece of money, 
 or its counterpart. After examining the coins for several 
 minutes she frankly admitted her ignorance. 
 
 " It is scarcely necessary to continue this cross-examina- 
 tion," said Dunscomb, looking at his watch. "I shall ask 
 the court to adjourn, and to adjourn over until morning. 
 We have reached the hour for lighting candles ; but we 
 have agents out in quest of most important witnesses ; and 
 we ask the loss of this evening as a favor. It can make 
 no great difference as to the length of the trial ; and the 
 jurors will be all the fresher for a good night's rest." 
 
TtfE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 295 
 
 The court acquiesced, and allowed of the adjournment, 
 giving the jury the usual charge about conversing or mak- 
 ing up their opinions until they had heard the whole tes- 
 timony ; a charge that both Williams and Timms took very 
 good care to render of no use in several instances, or as 
 regarded particular individuals. 
 
 A decided impression was made in favor of the prisoner 
 by Mrs. Pope's failure to distinguish the piece of money. 
 In her examination in chief she saw no difficulty in recog- 
 nizing the single piece then shown to her, and which was 
 the Dutch coin actually found in Mary Monson's purse ; 
 but, when it was put among a dozen others resembling it, 
 more or less, she lost all confidence in herself, and, to a 
 certain point, completely broke down as a witness. But 
 Dunscomb saw that the battle had not yet in truth begun. 
 What had passed was merely the skirmishing of light 
 troops, feeling the way for the advance of the heavy col- 
 umns and the artillery that were to decide the fortunes of 
 the day. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 'Tis the wisest way, upon all tender topics, to be silent ; for he who 
 takes upon himself to defend a lady's reputation, only publishes her favors 
 to the world. CUMBERLAND. 
 
 THE wing of Horton's Inn, that contained the room of 
 Dunscomb, was of considerable extent, having quite a 
 dozen rooms in it, though mostly of the diminutive size of 
 an American tavern bedroom. The best apartment in it, 
 one with two windows, and of some dimensions, was that 
 appropriated to the counsellor. The doctor and his party 
 had a parlor, with two bedrooms ; while, between these 
 and the room occupied by Dunscomb, was that of the troub- 
 lesome guest the individual who was said to be insane. 
 Most of the remainder of the wing, which was much the 
 most quiet and retired portion of the house, was used for 
 a better class of bedrooms. There were two rooms, how- 
 ever, that the providence of Horton and his wife had set 
 apart for a very different purpose. These were small par- 
 lors, in which the initiated smoked, drank, and played. 
 
 Nothing sooner indicates the school in which a man has 
 been educated, than his modes of seeking amusement. 
 One who has been accustomed to see innocent relaxation 
 
4 9 6 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 innocently indulged, from childhood up, is rarely tempted 
 to abuse those habits which have never been associated, in 
 his mind, with notions of guilt, and which, in themselves, 
 necessarily imply no moral delinquency. Among the lib- 
 eral, cards, dancing, music, all games of skill and chance 
 that can interest the cultivated, and drinking, in modera- 
 tion and of suitable liquors, convey no ideas of wrong-do- 
 ing. As they have been accustomed to them from early 
 life, and have seen them practised with decorum and a due 
 regard to the habits of refined society, there is no reason 
 for concealment or consciousness. On the other hand, an 
 exaggerated morality, which has the temerity to enlarge 
 the circle of sin beyond the bounds for which it can find 
 any other warranty than its own metaphysical inferences, 
 is very apt to create a factitious conscience, that almost in- 
 variably takes refuge in that vilest of all delinquency direct 
 hypocrisy. This, we take it, is the reason that the reaction 
 of ultra godliness so generally leaves its subjects in the 
 mire and slough of deception and degradation. The very 
 same acts assume different chaiacters, in the hands of these 
 two classes of persons ; and that which is perfectly inno- 
 cent with the first, affording a pleasant, and in that respect 
 a useful relaxation, becomes low, vicious, and dangerous 
 with the other, because tainted with the corrupting and 
 most dangerous practices of deception. The private wing 
 of Horton's Inn, to which there has been allusion, furnished 
 an example in point of what we mean, within two hours 
 of the adjournment of the court. 
 
 In the parlor of Mrs. McBrain, late Dunscomb's Widow 
 Updyke, as he used to call her, a little table was set in the 
 middle of the room, at which Dunscomb himself, the doc- 
 tor, his new wife and Sarah were seated, at a game of whist. 
 The door was not locked, no countenance manifested either 
 a secret consciousness of wrong, or an overweening desire 
 to transfer another's money to its owner's pocket, although 
 a sober sadness might be said to reign in the party, the 
 consequence of the interest all took in the progress of the 
 trial. 
 
 Within twenty feet of the spot just mentioned, and in 
 the two little parlors already named, was a very different 
 set collected. It consisted of the rowdies of the bar, per- 
 haps two-thirds of the reporters in attendance on Mary 
 Monson's trial, several suitors, four or five country doctors, 
 who had been summoned as witnesses and such other 
 equivocal gentry as might aspire to belong to a set as 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 297 
 
 polished and exclusive as that we are describing. We 
 will first give a moment's attention to the party around the 
 whist-table in the parlor first described. 
 
 " I do not think the prosecution has made out as well 
 to-day, all things considered, as it was generally supposed 
 it would," observed McBrain. " There is the ace of trumps, 
 Miss Sarah, and if you can follow it with the king, we shall 
 get the odd trick." 
 
 " I do not think I shall follow it with anything," answered 
 Sarah, throwing down her cards. " It really seems heart- 
 less to be playing whist, with a fellow-creature of our ac- 
 quaintance on trial for her life." 
 
 " I have not half liked the game," said the quiet Mrs. 
 McBrain, " but Mr. Dunscomb seemed so much bent on a 
 rubber, I scarce knew how to refuse him." 
 
 "Why, true enough, Tom," put in the doctor, "this is 
 all your doings, and if there be anything wrong about it, 
 you will have to bear the blame." 
 
 " Play anything but a trump, Miss Sarah, and we get the 
 game. You are quite right, N.ed " throwing down the 
 pack " the prosecution has not done as well as I feared 
 they might. That Mrs. Pope as a witness I dreaded, but 
 her testimony amounts to very little in itself ; and what 
 she has said has been pretty well shaken by her ignorance 
 of the coin." 
 
 " I really begin to hope the unfortunate lady may be 
 innocent," said the doctor. 
 
 " Innocent ! " exclaimed Sarah " surely, Uncle Ned, 
 you can never have doubted it ! " 
 
 McBrain and Dunscomb exchanged significant glances, 
 and the latter was about to answer, when, raising his eyes, 
 he saw a strange form glide stealthily into the room, and 
 place itself in a dark corner. It was a short, sturdy figure 
 of a man, with all those signs of squalid misery in his 
 countenance and dress that usually denote mental imbe- 
 cility. He seemed anxious to conceal himself, and did 
 succeed in getting more than half of his person beneath a 
 shawl of Sarah's ere he was seen by any of the party but 
 the counsellor. It at once occurred to the latter that this 
 was the being who had more than once disturbed him by 
 his noise, and who Mrs. Horton had pretty plainly inti- 
 mated was out of his mind ; though she had maintained a 
 singularly discreet silence, for her, touching his history 
 and future prospects. She believed " he had been brought 
 to court by his friends, to get some order, or judgment' 
 
298 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 maybe his visit had something to do with the new Code, 
 about which Squire Dunscomb said so many hard things." 
 
 A little scream from Sarah soon apprised all in the room 
 of the presence of this disgusting-looking object. She 
 snatched away her shawl, leaving the idiot, or madman, or 
 whatever he might be > fully exposed to view, and retreated 
 herself behind her uncle's chair. 
 
 " I fancy you have mistaken your room, my friend," said 
 Dunscomb, mildly. "This, as you see, is engaged by a 
 card-party I take it you do not play." 
 
 A look of cunning left very little doubt of the nature of 
 the malady with which this unfortunate being was afflicted. 
 He made a clutch at the cards, laughed, then drew back, 
 and began to mutter. 
 
 ''She won't let me play," mumbled the idiot "she 
 never would'' 
 
 "Whom do^-ou mean by she?" asked Dunscomb. "Is 
 it any one in this house Mrs. Horton, for instance ?" 
 
 Another cunning look, with a shake of the head, for an 
 answer in the negative. 
 
 " Be you Squire Dunscomb, the great York lawyer ? " 
 asked the stranger, with interest. 
 
 " Dunscomb is certainly my name though I have not 
 the pleasure of knowing yours." 
 
 " I haven't got any name. They may ask me from morn- 
 ing to night, and I won't tell. She won't let me." 
 
 " By she you again mean Mrs. Horton, I suppose ?" 
 
 "No, I don't. Mrs. Horton's a good woman ; she gives 
 me victuals and drink." 
 
 " Tell us whom you do mean, then ? " 
 
 " Won't you tell ? " 
 
 " Not unless it be improper to keep the secret. Who is 
 this she?" 
 
 "Why, she" 
 
 " Ay, but who ? " 
 
 " M'ary Monson. If you're the great lawyer from York, 
 and they say you be, you must know all about Mary Mon- 
 son." 
 
 "This is very extraordinary !" said Dunscomb, regard- 
 ing his companion in surprise. " I do know something 
 about Mary Monson, but not all about her. Can you tell 
 me anything ?" 
 
 Here the stranger advanced a little from his corner, lis- 
 tened, as if fearful of being surprised, then laid a finger on 
 his lip, and made the familiar sign for " hush." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 299 
 
 " Don't let her hear you ; if you do you may be sorry 
 for it. She's a witch ! " 
 
 " Poor fellow ! she seems, in truth, to have bewitched 
 you, as I dare say she may have done many another man." 
 
 " That has she ! I wish you'd tell me what I want to 
 know, if you really be the great lawyer from York." 
 
 " Put your questions, my friend ; I'll endeavor to answer 
 them." 
 
 " Who set fire to the house ? Can you tell me that?" 
 
 11 That is a secret yet to be discovered do you happen 
 to know anything about it?" 
 
 " Do I ? I think I do. Ask Mary Monson ; she can tell 
 you." 
 
 All this was so strange that the whole party now gazed 
 at each other in mute astonishment; McBrain bending his 
 looks more intently on the stranger, in order to ascertain 
 the true nature of the mental malady with which he was 
 obviously afflicted. In some respects the disease wore the 
 appearance of idiocy ; then again there were gleams of 
 the countenance that savored of absolute madness. 
 
 "You are of opinion, then, that Mary Monson knows 
 who set fire to the house ?" 
 
 " Sartain, she does. I know, too, but I won't tell. They 
 might want to hang me, as well as Mary Monson, if I told. 
 I know too much to do anything so foolish. Mary has 
 said they would hang me if I tell. I don't want to be 
 hanged a bit." 
 
 A shudder from Sarah betrayed the effect of these words 
 on the listeners, and Mrs. McBrain actually rose with the 
 intention of sending for her daughter, who was then in 
 the jail, consoling the much-injured prisoner, as Anna 
 Updyke firmly believed her to be, by her gentle but firm 
 friendship. A word from the doctor, however, induced 
 her to resume her seat, and to await the result with a 
 greater degree of patience. 
 
 " Mary Monson would seem to be a very prudent coun- 
 sellor," rejoined Dunscomb. 
 
 " Yes ; but she isn't the great counsellor from York 
 you be that gentleman, they tell me." 
 
 " May I ask who told you anything about me ? " 
 
 " Nancy Horton and so did Mary Monson. Nancy 
 said if I made so much noise I should disturb the great 
 counsellor from York, and he might get me hanged for it, 
 I was only singing hymns, and they say it is good for 
 folks in trouble to sing hymns. If you be the great conn- 
 
300 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 seller from York I wish you would tell me onje thing. 
 Who got the gold that was in the stocking ? " 
 
 " Do you happen to know anything of that stocking, or 
 of the gold ? " 
 
 " Do I " looking first over one shoulder, then over 
 the other, but hesitating to proceed. "Will they hang me 
 if I tell ? " 
 
 " I should think not, though I can only give you an 
 opinion. Do not answer, unless it be agreeable to you." 
 
 " I want to tell I want to tell all, but I'm afeard. I 
 don't want to be hanged." 
 
 "Well, then, speak out boldly, and I will promise that 
 you shall not be hanged. Who got the gold that was in 
 the stocking ? " 
 
 " Mary Monson. That's the way she has got so much 
 money." 
 
 "I cannot consent to leave Anna another instant in 
 such company ! " exclaimed the anxious mother. " Go, 
 McBrain, and bring her hither at once." 
 
 "You are a little premature," coolly remarked Duns- 
 comb. "This is but a person of weak mind, and too much 
 importance should not be attached to his words. Let us 
 hear what further he may have to say." 
 
 It was too late. The footstep of Mrs. Horton was 
 heard in the passage, and the extraordinary being van- 
 ished as suddenly and as stealthily as he had entered. 
 
 "What can be made of this?" McBrain demanded, 
 when a moment had been taken to reflect. 
 
 " Nothing, Ned ; I care not if Williams knew it all. 
 The testimony of such a man cannot be listened to for an 
 instant. It is wrong in us to give it a second thought, 
 though I perceive that you do. Half the mischief in the 
 world is caused by misconceptions, arising from a very nu- 
 merous family of causes, one of which is a disposition to 
 fancy a great deal from a little. Do you pronounce the 
 man an idiot or is he a madman ? " 
 
 "He does not strike me as absolutely either. There is 
 something peculiar in his case ; and I shall ask permis- 
 sion to look into it. I suppose we are done with the cards 
 shall I go for Anna ? " 
 
 The anxious mother gave a ready assent, and McBrain 
 went one way, while Dunscomb retired to his room, not 
 without stopping before his neighbor's door, whom he 
 heard muttering and menacing within. 
 
 All this time the two little parlors mentioned were 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 301 
 
 receiving their company. The law is doubtless a very 
 elevated profession, when its practice is on a scale com- 
 mensurate with its true objects. It becomes a very differ- 
 ent pursuit, however, when its higher walks are abandoned, 
 to choose a path amid its thickets and quagmires. Per- 
 haps no human pursuit causes a wider range of character 
 among its votaries than the practice of this profession. 
 In the first place, the difference, in an intellectual point 
 of view, between the man who sees only precedents, and 
 the man who sees the principles on which they are found- 
 ed, is as marked as the difference between black and 
 white. To this great distinction in mind is to be added 
 another that opens a still wider chasm, the results of prac- 
 tice, and which depends on morals. While one set of 
 lawyers turn to the higher objects of their calling, declin- 
 ing fees in cases of obviously questionable right, and 
 struggle to maintain their honesty in direct collision with 
 the world and its temptations, another, and much the 
 largest, falls readily into the practices of their craft the 
 word seems admirably suited to the subject and live on, 
 encumbered and endangered not only by their own natu- 
 ral vices, but greatly damaged by those that in a manner 
 they adopt, as it might be ex officio. This latter course is 
 unfortunately that taken by a vast number of the mem- 
 bers of the bar all over the world, rendering them loose in 
 their social morality, ready to lend themselves and their 
 talents to the highest bidder, and causing them to be at 
 first indifferent, and in the end blind, to the great features 
 of right and wrong. These are the moralists who advance 
 the doctrine that " the advocate has a right to act as his 
 client would act ;" while the class first named allow that 
 " the advocate has a right to do what his client has a right 
 to do," and no more. 
 
 Perhaps there was not a single member of the profes- 
 sion present that night in the two little parlors of Mrs. 
 Horton, who recognized the latter of these rules ; or who 
 did not, at need, practise on the former. As has been 
 already said, these were the rowdies of the Dukes County 
 bar. They chewed, smoked, drank, and played, each and 
 all coarsely. To things that were innocent in themselves 
 they gave the aspect of guilt by their own manners. The 
 doors were kept locked ; even amid their coarsest jokes, 
 their ribaldry, their oaths, that were often revolting and 
 painfully frequent, there was an uneasy watchfulness, as 
 if they feared detection. There was nothing frank and 
 
302 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 manly in the deportment of these men. Chicanery, man. 
 agement, double-dealing, mixed up with the outbreakings 
 of a coarse standard of manners, were visible in all they 
 said or did, except, perhaps, at those moments when 
 hypocrisy was paying its homage to virtue. This hypoc- 
 risy, however, had little, or at most a very indirect connec- 
 tion with anything religious. The offensive offshoots 
 of the exaggerations that were so abounding among us 
 half a century since, are giving place to hypocrisy of an- 
 other school. The homage that was then paid to princi- 
 ples, however erroneous and forbidding, is now paid to 
 the ballot-boxes. There was scarcely an individual around 
 those card tables, at which the play was so obviously for 
 the stakes as to render the whole scene revolting, who 
 would not have shrunk from having his amusements 
 known. It would seem as if conscience consulted taste. 
 Everything was coarse and offensive ; the attitudes, oaths, 
 conversation, liquors, and even the manner of drinking 
 them. Apart from the dialogue, little was absolutely 
 done that might not have been made to lose most of its 
 repulsiveness, by adopting a higher school of manners ; 
 but of this these scions of a noble stock knew no more 
 than they did of the parent stem. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to say that both Williams and 
 Timms were of this party. The relaxation was, in fact, in 
 conformity with their tastes and practices ; and each of 
 these excrescences of a rich and beneficent soil counted on 
 the meetings in Mrs. Horton's private rooms, as the more 
 refined seek pleasure in the exercise of their tastes and 
 habits. 
 
 " I say, Timms," bawled out an attorney of the name of 
 Crooks, " you play'd a trump, sir all right go ahead first 
 rate good play, that ours dead. I say, Timms> you're 
 going to save Mary Monson's neck. When I came here, I 
 thought she was a case ; but the prosecution is making out 
 miserably." 
 
 "What do you say to that, Williams?" put in Crooks's 
 partner, who was smoking, playing, and drinking, with oc- 
 casional " asides " of swearing, all, as might be, at the same 
 time. " I trump that, sir, by your leave what do you say 
 to that, Williams ? " 
 
 "I say that this is not the court ; and trying such a cause 
 once ought to satisfy a reasonable man." 
 
 " He's afraid of showing his hand, which I am not," put 
 in another, exposing his cards as he spoke. "Williams 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 303 
 
 always has some spare trumps, however, to get him out of 
 all his difficulties." 
 
 " Yes, Williams has a spare trump, and there it is, giving 
 me the trick," answered the saucy lawyer, as coolly as if he 
 had been engaged in an inferior slander-suit. " I shall be 
 at Timms pretty much by the same process to-morrow." 
 
 " Then you will do more than you have done to-day, 
 Master Williams. This Mrs. Jane Pope may be a trump, 
 but she is not the ace. I never knew a witness break down 
 more completely." 
 
 " We'll find the means to set her up again I think that 
 knave is yours, Green yes, I now see my game, which is 
 to take it with the queen very much, Timms, as we shall 
 beat you to-morrow. I keep my trump card always for 
 the last play, you know." 
 
 "Come, come, Williams," put in the oldest member of 
 the bar, a men whose passions were cooled by time, and 
 who had more gravity than most of his companions. 
 " Come, come, Williams, this is a trial for a life, and jok- 
 ing is a little out of place." 
 
 " I believe there is no juror present, Mr. Marvin, which 
 is all the reserve the law exacts." 
 
 "Although the law may tolerate this levity, feeling will 
 not. The prisoner is a fine young woman ; and for my 
 part, though I wish to say nothing that may influence any 
 one's opinion, I have heard nothing yet to justify an in- 
 dictment, much less a conviction." 
 
 Williams laid down his cards, rose, stretched his arms, 
 gaped, and taking Timms by the arm, he led the latter 
 from the room. Not content with this, the wary limb of 
 the law continued to move forward, until he and his com- 
 panion were in the open air. 
 
 " It is always better to talk secrets outside than inside of 
 a house," observed Williams, as soon as they were at a safe 
 distance from the inn-door. "It is not too late yet, Timms 
 you must see how weak we are, and how bunglingly the 
 District Attorney has led off. Half those jurors will sleep 
 to-night with a feeling that Mary Monson has been hardly 
 dealt by." 
 
 "They may do the same to-morrow night, and every 
 night in the month," answered Timms. 
 
 " Not unless the arrangement is made. We have testi- 
 mony enough to hang the governor." 
 
 " Show us your list of witnesses, then, that we may judge 
 :if this for ourselves." 
 
3 04 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " That would never do. They might be bought off for 
 half the money that is necessary to take us out of the field. 
 Five thousand dollars can be no great matter for such a 
 woman and her friends." 
 
 " Whom do you suppose to be her friends, Williams ? If 
 you know them you are better informed than her own 
 counsel." 
 
 " Yes, and a pretty point that will make when pressed 
 against you. No, no, Timms ; your client has been ill- 
 advised, or she is unaccountably obstinate. She has friends, 
 although you may not know who they are ; and friends 
 who can, and who would very promptly help her, if she 
 would consent to ask their assistance. Indeed, I suspect 
 she has cash enough on hand to buy us off." 
 
 " Five thousand dollars is a large sum, Williams, and is 
 not often to be found in Biberry jail. But if Mary Mon- 
 son has these friends, name them, that we may apply for 
 their assistance." 
 
 " Harkee, Timms ; you are not a man so ignorant of 
 what is going on in the world, as to require to be told the 
 letters of the alphabet. You know that there are exten- 
 sive associations of rogues in this young country, as well 
 as in most that are older." 
 
 " What has that to do with Mary Monson and our case ?" 
 
 " Everything. This Mary Monson has been sent here 
 to get at the gold of the poor old dolt, who has not been 
 able to conceal her treasure after it was hoarded. She 
 made a sub-treasury of her stocking, and exhibited the 
 coin, like any other sub-treasurer. Many persons like to 
 look at it, just to feast their eyes." 
 
 " More to finger it ; and you are of the number, Wil- 
 liams ! " 
 
 " I admit it. The weakness is general in the profession, 
 [ believe. But this is idle talk, and we are losing very 
 precious time. Will you, or will you not, apply again to 
 your client for the money ? " 
 
 "Answer me, candidly, a question or two, and I will do 
 as you desire. You know, Williams, that we are old friends, 
 and never had any serious difficulty since we have been 
 called to the bar." 
 
 "Oh, assuredly," answered Williams, with an ironical 
 smile, that it might have been fortunate for the negotia- 
 tion the obscurity concealed from his companion ; "excel- 
 lent friends from the beginning, Timms, and likely to con- 
 tinue so, I trust, to the last. Men who know each other as 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 305 
 
 well as you and I ought to be on the best of terms. For 
 my part, I never harbored a wrangle at the bar in my 
 mind five minutes after I the left the court. Now for your 
 question." 
 
 " You surely do not set down Mary Monson as the stool- 
 pigeon of a set of York thieves ! " 
 
 " Who, or what else can she be, Mr. Timms ? Better ed- 
 ucated, and belonging to an ' upper ten ' in villany, but of 
 a company of rogues. Now, these knaves stand by each 
 other much more faithfully than the body of the citizens 
 stand by the law ; and the five thousand will be forthcom- 
 ing for the asking." 
 
 "Are you serious in wishing me to believe you think my 
 client guilty ?" 
 
 Here Williams made no bones of laughing outright. 
 It is true that he suppressed the noise immediately, lest 
 it should attract attention ; but laugh he did, and with 
 right good will. 
 
 "Come, Timms, you have asked your question, and I 
 leave you to answer it yourself. One thing I will say, how- 
 ever, in the way of admonition, which is this we shall 
 make out such a case against her to-morrow as would hang 
 a governor, as I have already told you." 
 
 "I believe you've done your worst already why not let 
 me know the names of your witnesses ?" 
 
 " You know the reason. We wish the whole sum our- 
 selves, and have no fancy to its being scattered all over 
 Dukes. I give you my honor, Timms and you know 
 what that is I give you my honor that we hold this testi- 
 mony in reserve." 
 
 " In which case the district attorney will bring the wit- 
 nesses on the stand ; and we shall gain nothing, after all, 
 by your withdrawal." 
 
 "'The district attorney has left the case very much to me. 
 I have prepared his brief, and have taken care to keep 
 to myself enough to turn the scales. If I quit, Mary Mon- 
 son will be acquitted if I stay, she will be hanged. A 
 pardon for her will be out of the question she is too high 
 among the ' upper ten ' to expect that besides, she is not 
 an anti-renter." 
 
 " I wonder the thieves do not combine, as well as other 
 folks, and control votes ! " 
 
 " They do these anti-renters belong to the gangs, and 
 have already got their representatives in high places. 
 They are 'land uirates,' while your client goes for old 
 
 ''JO 
 
306 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 stockings. The difference in principle is by no means im- 
 
 Eortant, as any clear-headed man may see. It is getting 
 ite, Timms." 
 
 " I cannot believe that Mary Monson is the sort of per- 
 son you take her for ! Williams, I've always looked upon 
 you, and treated you, as a friend. You may remember 
 how I stood by you in the Middlebury case?" 
 
 " Certainly you did your duty by me in that matter, 
 and I have not forgot it." 
 
 The cause alluded to was an action for a " breach of 
 promise," which, at one time, threatened all of Williams's 
 "future usefulness," as it is termed ; but which was put to 
 sleep in the end by means of Timms's dexterity in manag- 
 ing the "outdoor " points of a difficult case. 
 
 "Well, then, be my friend in this matter. I will be hon- 
 est with you, and acknowledge that, as regards my client, 
 I have had that is provided she is acquitted, and her char- 
 acter comes out fair that I have had and still have, for 
 that matter what " 
 
 " Are called ' ulterior views.' I understand you, Timms, 
 and have suspected as much these ten days. A great deal 
 depends on what you consider a fair character. Taking 
 the best view of her situation, Mary Monson will have been 
 tried for murder and arson." 
 
 " Not if acquitted of the first. I have the district at- 
 torney's promise to consent to a nolle prosequi on the last 
 indictment, if we traverse the first successfully." 
 
 " In which case Mary Monson will have been tried for 
 murder only," returned Williams, smiling. " Do you really 
 think, Timms, that your heart is soft enough to receive 
 and retain an impression as deep as that made by the seal 
 of the court?" 
 
 " If I thought, as you do, that my client is or has been 
 connected with thieves, and burglars, and counterfeiters, I 
 would not think of her for a moment as a wife. But there 
 is a vast difference between a person overtaken by sudden 
 temptation and one who sins on calculation, and by regu- 
 lar habit. Now, in my own case, I sometimes act wrong 
 yes, I admit as much as that ' 
 
 " It is quite unnecessary," said Williams, dryly. 
 
 " It is not according to Christian doctrine to visit old 
 offences on a sinner's head, when repentance has washed 
 away the crime." 
 
 " Which means, Timms, that you will marry Mary 
 Monson, although she may be guilty ; provided always 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 307 
 
 that two very important contingencies are favorably dis- 
 posed of." 
 
 " What contingencies do you allude to, Williams ? I 
 know of none." 
 
 "One is, provided she will have you ; the other is, pro- 
 vided she is not hanged." 
 
 " As to the first, I have no great apprehension ; women 
 that have been once before a court, on a trial for a capital 
 offence, are not very particular. On my side, it will be 
 easy enough to persuade the public that, as counsel in a 
 most interesting case, I became intimately acquainted with 
 her virtues, touched by her misfortunes, captivated by her 
 beauty and accomplishments, and finally overcome by her 
 charms. I don't think, Williams, that such an explanation 
 would fail of its effect, before a caucus even. Men are al- 
 ways favorably disposed to those they think worse off than 
 they are themselves. A good deal of capital is made on 
 that principle." 
 
 " I do not know that it would. Nowadays the elections 
 generally turn more on public principles than on private 
 conduct. The Americans are a most forgiving people, un- 
 less you tell them the truth. That they will not pardon." 
 
 " Nor any other nation, I fancy. Human natur' re- 
 volts at it. But that" snapping his fingers "for your 
 elections ; it is the caucuses that I lay myself out to 
 meet. Give me the nomination, and I am as certain of 
 my seat as, in the old countries, a first-born is to his fath- 
 er's throne." 
 
 " It is pretty safe, as a rule, I allow ; but nominations 
 sometimes fail." 
 
 " Not when regular, and made on proper principles. A 
 nomination is almost as good as popularity." 
 
 " Often better ; for men are just asses enough to work 
 in the collar of party, even when overloaded. But all this 
 time the night is wearing away. If I go into court in the 
 morning it will be too late. This thing must be settled at 
 once, and that in a very explicit manner." 
 
 " I wish I knew what you have picked up concerning 
 Mary Monson's early life ! " said Timms, like a man strug- 
 gling with doubt. 
 
 " You have heard the rumor as well as myself. Some 
 say she is a wife already ; while others think her a rich 
 widow. My opinion you know ; I believe her to be the 
 stool-pigeon of a York gang, and no better than she should 
 be." 
 
3 ofc THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 This was plain language to be addressed to a lover ; and 
 Williams meant it to be so. He had that sort of regard 
 for Timms which proceeds from a community in practices, 
 and was disposed to regret that a man with whom he had 
 been so long connected, either as an associate or an an- 
 tagonist, should marry a woman of the pursuits that he 
 firmly believed marked the career of Mary Monson. 
 
 The gentlemen of the bar are no more to be judged by 
 appearances than the rest of mankind. They will wrangle, 
 and seem to be at sword's points with each other, at one 
 moment ; when the next may find them pulling together 
 in harmony in the next case on the calendar. It was under 
 this sort of feeling that Williams had a species of friend- 
 ship for his companion. 
 
 " I will try, Williams," said the last, turning toward the 
 jail. " Yes, I will make one more trial." 
 
 " Do, my good fellow and, Timms remember one 
 thing ; you can never marry a woman that has been 
 hanged." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The time is precious ; I'll about it straight. 
 
 Earl of Essex. 
 
 THE jail presented a very different scene. A solemn still- 
 ness reigned in its gallery ; and even good Mrs. Gott had 
 become weary with the excitement of the day, and had re- 
 tired to rest. A single lamp was burning in the cell ; and 
 dark forms were dimly visible in the passage, without the 
 direct influence of its rays. Two were seated, while a third 
 paced the stone but carpeted pavement, with a slow and 
 quiet step. The first were the shadowy forms of Anna 
 Updyke and Marie Moulin ; the last, that of Mary Mon- 
 son. For half an hour the prisoner had been on her knees, 
 praying for strength to endure a burden that surpassed 
 her expectations ; and, as is usual with those who look 
 above for aid, more especially women, she was reaping the 
 benefit of -her petition. Not a syllable had she uttered, 
 however, since quitting the cell. Her voice, soft, melo- 
 dious, and lady-like, was now heard for the first time. 
 
 "My situation is most extraordinary, Anna," she said 
 " it proves almost too much for my strength ! This has 
 been a terrible day, calm as I may have appeared ; and I 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 309 
 
 fear that the morrow will be still harder to be borne. There 
 is an expression about the eyes of that man, Williams, that 
 both alarms and disgusts me. I am to expect in him a 
 most fiery foe." 
 
 " Why, then, do you not escape from scenes for which 
 you are so unsuited, and leave this saucy Williams to him- 
 self, and his schemes of plunder ? " 
 
 " That would not do. Several sufficient reasons exist for 
 remaining. Were I to avail myself of the use of the keys 
 I possess, and quit the jail not to return, good Mrs. Gott 
 and her husband would probably both be ruined. Although 
 they are ignorant of what money and ingenuity have done 
 for me, it would be difficult to induce the world to believe 
 them innocent. But a still higher reason for remaining is 
 the vindication of my own character." 
 
 "No one will think of confounding you with Mary Mon- 
 son ; and by going abroad, as you say it is your intention 
 to do, you would effectually escape from even suspicion." 
 
 " You little know the world, my dear. I see that all the 
 useful lessons I gave you, as your school-mamma, are al- 
 ready forgotten. The six years between us in age have 
 given me an experience that tells me to do nothing of the 
 sort. Nothing is so certain to follow us as a bad name ; 
 though.the good one is easily enough forgotten. As Mary 
 Monson, I am indicted for these grievous crimes ; as Mary 
 Monson will I be acquitted of them. I feel an affection for 
 the character, and shall not degrade it by any act as base 
 as that of flight." 
 
 " Why not, then, resort to the other means you possess, 
 and gain a speedy triumph in open court?" 
 
 As Anna put this question, Mary Monson came beneath 
 the light and stopped. Her handsome face was in full 
 view, and her friend saw an expression on it that gave her 
 pain. It lasted only a moment ; but that moment was 
 long enough to induce Anna to wish she had not seen it. 
 On several previous occasions this same expression had 
 rendered her uneasy ; but the evil look was soon forgot- 
 ten in the quiet elegance of manners that borrowed charms 
 from a countenance usually as soft as the evening sky in 
 September. Ere she resumed her walk, Mary Monson 
 shook her head in dissent from the proposition of her 
 friend, and passed on, a shadowy but graceful form, as she 
 went down the gallery. 
 
 " It would be premature," she said, " and I should fail 
 uf my object. I will not rob that excellent Mr. Dunscomb 
 
3 io THE WAYS OF 7 HE HOUR. 
 
 of his honest triumph. How calm and gentlemanlike he 
 was to-day ; yet how firm and prompt, when it became 
 necessary to show these qualities." 
 
 " Uncle Tom is all that is good ; and we love him as we 
 would love a parent." 
 
 A pause succeeded, during which Mary Monson walked 
 along the gallery once, in profound thought. 
 
 " Yours promises to be a happy future, my dear," she 
 said. " Of suitable ages, tempers, stations, country yes, 
 country ; for an American woman should never marry a 
 foreigner ! " 
 
 Anna Updyke did not reply ; and a silence succeeded 
 that was interrupted by the rattling of a key in the outer 
 door. 
 
 " It is your new father, Anna ; come to see you home. 
 Thank you, kind-hearted and most generous-minded girl. 
 I feel the sacrifices that you and your friend are making 
 in my behalf, and shall carry the recollection of them to 
 the grave. On her, I had no claims at all ; and on you, 
 but those that are very slight. You have been to me, in- 
 deed, most excellent friends, and a great support when 
 both were most needed. Of my own sex, and of the same 
 social level, I do not now see how I should have got on 
 without you. Mrs. Gott is kindness and goodnature 
 themselves ; but she is so different from us in a thousand 
 things, that I have often been pained by it. In our inter- 
 course with you, how different ! Knowing so much, you 
 pry into nothing. Not a question, not a look to embarrass 
 me, and with a perfect and saint-like reliance on my in- 
 nocence ; were I a sister, your support could not be more 
 warm-hearted or firm." 
 
 After a short pause, in which this singular young woman 
 smiled, and appeared to be talking to herself, she con- 
 tinued, after kissing her companion most affectionately for 
 good-night, and walking with her as far as the door of the 
 gallery, where it had been announced that the doctor was 
 waiting for his step-daughter : 
 
 " I wish I knew whether the same faith goes through the 
 connection Mr. John Wilmeter?" 
 
 " Oh ! He is persuaded of your entire innocence. It 
 was he who excited so much interest in me, on your be- 
 half, before I had the least idea of our having ever met 
 before." 
 
 " He is a noble-hearted young man, and has many ex- 
 cellent qualities a little romantic, but none the worse for 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 311 
 
 that, my dear, as you will find in the end. Alas ! alas ! 
 Those marriages that are made over a rent-roll, or an in- 
 ventory, need a great deal of something very different from 
 what they possess to render them happy ! Mr. Wilmeter 
 has told me that no evidence could make him believe in my 
 guilt. There is a confidence that might touch a woman's 
 heart, Anna, did circumstances admit of such a thing. I 
 like that Michael Millington, too ; the name is dear to me, 
 as is the race of which he comes. No matter ; the world 
 va son train, let us regret and repine as we -may. And Uncle 
 Tom, Anna what do you think of his real opinion ? Is it 
 in my favor or not ? " 
 
 Anna Updyke had detected in Dunscomb a disposition 
 to doubt, and was naturally averse to communicating a 
 fact so unpleasant to her friend. Kissing the latter affec- 
 tionately, she hurried away to meet McBrain, already wait- 
 ing for her without. In quitting the dwelling of the build- 
 ing annexed to the jail, the doctor and Anna met Timms 
 hurrying forward to seek an interview with his client be- 
 fore she retired to rest. An application at once obtained 
 permission for the limb of the law to enter. 
 
 " I have come, Miss Mary," as Timms now called his 
 client, "on what I fear will prove a useless errand; but 
 which I have thought it my duty to see performed, as your 
 best friend, and one of your legal advisers. You have 
 already heard what I had to say on the subject of a certain 
 proposal of the next of kin to withdraw from the prosecu- 
 tion, which will carry with him this Williams, with whom 
 I should think you would, by this time, be heartily dis- 
 gusted. I come now to say that this offer is repeated with 
 a good deal of emphasis, and that you have still an oppor- 
 tunity of lessening the force that is pressing on your in- 
 terests by at least one-half. Williams may well count for 
 more than half of the vigor and shrewdness of what is 
 doing for the State in your case." 
 
 " The proposal must be more distinctly made, and you 
 must let me have a clear view of what is expected from me, 
 Mr. Timms, before I can give any reply," said Mary Mon- 
 son. " But you may wish to be alone with me before you 
 are more explicit. I will order my woman to go into the 
 cell." 
 
 " It might be more prudent were we to go into the cell 
 ourselves, and leave your domestic outside. These gal- 
 leries carry sounds like ear-trumpets, and we never know 
 who may be our next neighbor in a jail." 
 
3 12 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 Mary Monson quietly assented to the proposal, calling 
 to her woman in French to remain outside, in the dark, 
 while she profited by the light of the lamp in the cell. 
 Timms followed, and closed the door. 
 
 In size, form, and materials, the cell of Mary Monson 
 was necessarily like that of every other inmate of the jail. 
 Its sides, top, and bottom, were of massive stones ; the two 
 last being flags of great dimensions. But taste and money 
 had converted even this place into an apartment that was 
 comfortable in all respects but that of size. Two cells 
 opening on the section of gallery that the consideration of 
 Mrs. Gott had caused to be screened off, and appropriated 
 to the exclusive use of the fair prisoner, one had been fur- 
 nished as a sleeping apartment, while that in which Timms 
 was now received had more the air of a sort of boudoir. It 
 was well carpeted, like all the rest of what might be termed 
 the suite ; and had a variety of those little elegancies that 
 women of cultivated tastes and ample means are almost 
 certain to gather about them. The harp which had oc- 
 casioned so much scandal, as well as a guitar, stood near 
 by, and chairs, of different forms and various degrees of 
 comfort, crowded the room, perhaps to superfluity. As 
 this was the first time Timms had been admitted to the 
 cell, he was all eyes, gazing about him at the numerous 
 signs of wealth it contained with inward satisfaction. It 
 was a minute after he was desired to be seated before he 
 could comply, so lively was the curiosity to be appeased. 
 It was during this minute that Marie Moulin lighted four 
 candles, that were already arranged in bronzed candle- 
 sticks, making a blaze of light for that small room. These 
 candles were of spermaceti, the ordinary American substi- 
 tute for wax. Nothing that he then saw, or had ever seen 
 in his intercourse with his client, so profoundly impressed 
 Timms as this luxury of light. Accustomed himself to 
 read and write by a couple of small inferior articles in tal- 
 low, when he did not use a lamp, there seemed to be some- 
 thing regal to his unsophisticated imagination in this dis- 
 play of brilliancy. 
 
 Whether Mary Monson had a purpose to answer in giv- 
 ing Timms so unusual a reception, we shall leave the 
 reader to discover by means of his own sagacity ; but cir- 
 cumstances might well lead one to the conclusion that she 
 had. There was a satisfied look, as she glanced around 
 the cell and surveyed its arrangements, that possibly led 
 fairly enough to such an inference. Nevertheless, her de- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 313 
 
 meaner was perfectly quiet, betraying none of the fidget- 
 ing uneasiness of an underbred person, lest all might not 
 be right. Every arrangement was left to the servant ; and 
 when Marie Moulin finally quitted the cell and closed the 
 door behind her, every thought of the apartment and what 
 it contained seemed to vanish from the mind of her ex- 
 traordinary mistress. 
 
 " Before you proceed to communicate the purpose of 
 your visit, Mr. Timms," Mary Monson said, "I shall ask 
 permission to put a few questions of my own, touching the 
 state of our cause. Have we gained or lost by this day's 
 proceedings ?" 
 
 " Most clearly gained, as every man at the bar will con- 
 firm by his opinion." 
 
 "That has been my own way of thinking; and I am 
 glad to hear it corroborated by such competent judges. I 
 confess the prosecution does not seem to me to show the 
 strength it really possesses. This Jane Pope made a miser- 
 able blunder about the piece of coin." 
 
 " She has done the other side no great good, certainly." 
 
 " How stands the jury, Mr. Timms ?" 
 
 Although this question was put so directly, Timms heard 
 it with uneasiness. Nor did he like the expression of 
 Mary Monson's eyes, which seemed to regard him with a 
 keenness that might possibly imply distrust. But it was 
 necessary to answer, though he did so with caution, and 
 with a due regard to his own safety. 
 
 "It is pretty well," he said, " though not quite as much 
 opposed to capital punishment as I had hoped for. We 
 challenged off one of the sharpest chaps in the county, 
 and have got in his place a man who is pretty much under 
 my thumb." 
 
 " And the stories the reports have they been well cir- 
 culated ?" 
 
 "A little too well, I'm afraid. That concerning your 
 having married a Frenchman, and having run away from 
 him, has gone through all the lower towns of Dukes like 
 wildfire. It has even reached the ears of Squire Dunscomb. 
 and will be in the York papers to-morrow." 
 
 A little start betrayed the surprise of the prisoner ; and 
 a look accompanied it which would seem to denote dissat- 
 isfaction that a tale put in circulation by herself, as it would 
 now appear, had gone quite so far. 
 
 " Mr. Dunscomb ! " she repeated, musingly. " Anna Up- 
 dyke's Uncle Tom ; and one whom such a story may very 
 
3 I4 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 well set thinking. I wish it had not reached him, of al! 
 men, Mr. Timms." 
 
 " If I may judge of his opinions by some little acts and 
 expressions that have escaped him, I am inclined to think 
 he believes the story to be, in the main, true." 
 
 Mary Monson smiled ; and, as was much her wont when 
 thinking intensely, her lips moved ; even a low muttering 
 became audible to a person as near as her companion then 
 was. 
 
 " It is now time, Mr. Timms, to set the other story in 
 motion," she said, quickly. " Let one account follow the 
 other ; that will distract people's belief. We must be active 
 in this matter." 
 
 " There is less necessity for our moving in the affair, as 
 Williams has got a clew to it, by some means or other ; and 
 his men will spread it far and near, long before the cause 
 goes to the jury." 
 
 " That is fortunate ! " exclaimed the prisoner, actually 
 clapping her pretty gloved hands together in delight. "A 
 story as terrible as that must react powerfully, when its 
 falsehood comes to be shown. I regard that tale as the 
 cleverest of all our schemes, Mr. Timms." 
 
 " Why yes that is I think, Miss Mary, it may be set 
 down as the boldest" 
 
 " And this saucy Williams, as you call him, has got hold 
 of it already, and believes it true ? " 
 
 " It is not suprising ; there are so many small and prob- 
 able facts accompanying it." 
 
 " I suppose you know what Shakespeare calls such an 
 invention, Mr. Timms?" said Mary Monson, smiling. 
 
 " I am not particularly acquainted with that author, 
 ma'am ; I know there was such a writer, and that he was 
 thought a good deal of, in his day ; but I can't say I have 
 ever read him." 
 
 The beautiful prisoner turned her large, expressive blue 
 eyes on her companion with a gaze of wonder ; but her 
 breeding prevented her from uttering what she certainly 
 thought and felt. 
 
 "Shakespeare is a writer very generally esteemed," she 
 answered, after one moment of muttering, and one moment 
 to control herself ; '' I believe he is commonly placed at 
 the head of our English literature, if not at the head of 
 that of all times and nations Homer, perhaps, excepted." 
 
 "What ! higher, do you think, Miss Mary, than Black 
 stone and Kent ? " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 315 
 
 " Those are authors of whom I know nothing, Mr. Timms ; 
 but now, sir, I will listen to your errand here to-night." 
 
 " It is the old matter. Williams has been talking to me 
 again, touching the five thousand dollars." 
 
 " Mr. Williams has my answer. If five thousand cents 
 would buy him off, he should not receive them from me." 
 
 This was said with a frown ; and then it was that the ob- 
 server had an opportunity of tracing, in a face otherwise so 
 lovely, the lines that indicate self-will, and a spirit not 
 easily controlled. Alas, that woman should ever so mis- 
 take their natural means to influence and guide, as to have 
 recourse to the exercise of agents that they rarely wield 
 with effect, and ever with a sacrifice of womanly character 
 and womanly grace. The person who would draw the sex 
 from the quiet scenes that they so much embellish, to 
 mingle in the strifes of the world ; who would place them 
 in stations that nature has obviously intended men should 
 occupy, is not their real friend, any more than the weak 
 adviser who resorts to reputed specifics when the knife 
 alone can effect a cure. The Creator intended woman for 
 a "help-meet," and not for the head of the family circle ; 
 and most fatally ill-judging are the laws that would fain 
 disturb the order of a domestic government, which is 
 directly derived from divine wisdom as from divine benevo- 
 lence. 
 
 " I told him as much, Miss Mary," answered Timms ; 
 " but he does not seem disposed to take ' no ' for an answer. 
 Williams has the true scent for a dollar." 
 
 " I am quite certain of an acquittal, Mr. Timms ; and 
 having endured so much, and hazarded so much, I do not 
 like to throw away the triumph of my approaching vic- 
 tory. There is a powerful excitement in my situation ; 
 and I like excitement to weakness, perhaps. No, no ; my 
 success must not be tarnished by any such covert bargain. 
 I will not listen to the proposal for an instant ! " 
 
 " I understand that the raising of the sum required 
 would form no particular obstacle to the arrangement ? " 
 asked Timms, in a careless sort of way, that was intended 
 to conceal the real interest he took in the reply. 
 
 " None at all. The money might be in his hands before 
 the court sits in the morning, but it never shall be, as 
 coming from me. Let Mr. Williams know this definitely ; 
 and tell him to do his worst." 
 
 Timms was a little surprised, and a good deal uneasy at 
 this manifestation of a spirit of defiance, which could pro- 
 
3*6 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 duce no good, and which might be productive of evil. 
 While he was delighted to hear, for the fourth or fifth time, 
 how easy it would be for his fair client to command a sum 
 as large as that demanded, he secretly determined not to 
 let the man who had sent him on his present errand know 
 the temper in which it had been received. Williams was 
 sufficiently dangerous as it was ; and he saw all the hazard 
 of giving him fresh incentives to increase his exertions, 
 
 " And now, as this matter is finally disposed of, Mr, 
 Timms for I desire that it may not be again mentioned to 
 me," resumed the accused, " let us say a word more on the 
 subject of our new report. Your agent has set on foot a 
 story that I belong to a gang of wretches who are com- 
 bined to prey on society ; and that, in this character, I 
 came into Dukes, to carry out one of its nefarious 
 schemes ?" 
 
 " That is the substance of the rumor we have started at 
 your own desire ; though I could wish it were not quite so 
 strong, and that there were more time for the reaction." 
 
 " The strength of the rumor is its great merit ; and, as 
 for time, we have abundance for our purposes. Reaction 
 is the great power of popularity, as I have heard again 
 and again. It is always the most effective, too, at the turn 
 of the tide. Let the public once get possessed with the 
 notion that a rumor so injurious has been in circulation at 
 the expense of one in my cruel condition, and the current 
 of feeling will set the other way in a torrent that nothing 
 can arrest ! " 
 
 " I take the idea, Miss Mary, which is well enough for 
 certain cases, but a little too hazardous for this. Suppose 
 it should be ascertained that this report came from us ? " 
 
 " It never can be, if the caution I directed was observed. 
 You have not neglected my advice, Mr. Timms ? " 
 
 The attorney had not ; and great had been his surprise 
 at the ingenuity and finesse manifested by this singular 
 woman, in setting afloat a report that would certainly act 
 to her injury, unless arrested and disproved at a moment 
 most critical in her future fate. Nevertheless, in obedi- 
 ence to Mary Monson's positive commands, this very bold 
 measure had been undertaken ; and Timms was waiting 
 with impatience for the information by means of which he 
 was to counteract these self-inflicted injuries, and make 
 them the instruments of good on the reaction. 
 
 If that portion of society which takes delight in gossip 
 could be m^de to understand the real characters of those 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 317 
 
 to whom they commit the control of their opinions, not to 
 say principles, there would be far more of reserve and self- 
 respect observed in the submission to this social evil than 
 there is at present. Malice, the inward impulses of the 
 propagators of a lie, and cupidity, are at the bottom of 
 half the tales that reach our ears ; and in those cases in 
 which the world in its ignorance fancies it has some au- 
 thority for what it says, it as often happens that some hid- 
 den motive is at the bottom of the exhibition as the one 
 which seems so apparent. There are a set of vulgar vices 
 that may be termed the " stereotyped," they lie so near the 
 surface of human infirmities. They who are most subject 
 to their influence always drag these vices first into the 
 arena of talk ; and fully one-half of that of this nature 
 which we hear, has its origin as much in the reflective nat- 
 ure of the gossip's own character, as in any facts truly con- 
 nected with the acts of the subjects of his or her stories. 
 
 But Mary Monson was taking a far higher flight than 
 the circulation of an injurious rumor. She believed her- 
 self to be putting on foot a master-stroke of policy. In 
 her intercourse with Timms, so much was said of the power 
 of opinion, that she had passed hours, nay days, in the 
 study of the means to control and counteract it. Whence 
 she obtained her notion of the virtue of reaction it might 
 not be easy to say, but her theory was not without its 
 truth, and it is certain that her means of producing it 
 were of remarkable simplicity and ingenuity. 
 
 Having settled the two preliminaries of the rumor and 
 of Williams's proposition, Timms thought the moment fav- 
 orable to making a demonstration in his own affairs. Love 
 he did not yet dare to propose openly, though he had now 
 been, for some time, making covert demonstrations toward 
 the tender passion. In addition to the motive of cupidity, 
 one of great influence with such a man, Timms's heart, such 
 as it was, had really yielded to the influence of a beauty, 
 manners, accomplishments, and information, all of a class 
 so much higher than he had been accustomed to meet with, 
 as to be subjects of wonder with him, not to say of adora- 
 tion. This man had his affections as well as another ; and, 
 while John Wilmeter had submitted to a merely passing- 
 inclination, as much produced by the interest he took in 
 an unknown female's situation as by any other cause, poor 
 Timms had been hourly falling more and more in love. It 
 is a tribute to nature that this passion can be, and is, felt 
 by all. Although a purifying sentiment, the corrupt and 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 impure can feel its power, and, in a greater or less degree, 
 submit to its influence, though their homage may be taint- 
 ed by the grosser elements that are so largely mixed up 
 with the compound of their characters. We may have oc' 
 casion to show hereafter how far the uncouth attorney of 
 Mary Monson succeeded in his suit with his fair client. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 I challenge envy, 
 
 Malice, and all the practices of hell, 
 
 To censure all the actions of my past 
 
 Unhappy life, and taint me if they can. The Orphan. 
 
 IT is to be presumed that Timms found the means to 
 communicate to Williams the rejection of the latter's offer, 
 before the court met next morning. It is certain that the 
 counsel associated with the attorney-general manifested 
 unusual zeal in the performance of duties that most men 
 would have found unpleasant, if not painful, and that he 
 was captious, short, and ill-natured. Just as Mary Monson 
 came within the bar, a letter was put into the hands of 
 Dunscomb, who quietly broke the seal, and read it twice, 
 as the observant Timms fancied ; then put it in his pocket, 
 with a mien so undisturbed that no mere looker-on would 
 have suspected its importance. The letter was from Mil- 
 lington, and it announced a general want of success in his 
 mission. The whereabouts of M. de Larocheforte could 
 not be ascertained ; and those who knew anything about 
 his movements were of opinion that he was travelling in the 
 West, accompanied by his fair, accomplished, and affluent 
 young consort. None of those who would naturally have 
 heard of such an event, had it occurred, could say there 
 had ever been a separation between the French husband 
 and the American wife. Millington, himself, had never 
 seen his kinswoman, there being a coolness of long stand- 
 ing between the two branches of the family, and could give 
 little or no information on the subject. In a word, he 
 could discover nothing to enable him to carry out the clew 
 obtained in the rumor ; while, on the other hand, he found 
 a certain set, who occupied themselves a good deal with 
 intelligence of that sort, were greatly disposed to believe 
 the report, set on foot by herself, that Mary Monson was a 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 319 
 
 stool-pigeon of a gang of marauders, and doubtless guilty 
 of everything of which she had been accused. Millington 
 would remain in town, however, another day, and endeavor 
 to push his inquiries to some useful result. Cool, clear- 
 headed, and totally without romance, Dunscomb knew 
 that a better agent than his young friend could not be 
 employed, and was fain to wait patiently for the discov 
 cries he might eventually succeed in making. In the 
 meantime the trial proceeded. 
 
 " Mr. Clerk," said his honor, " let the jury be called." 
 
 This was done, and Mary Monson's lips moved, while a 
 lurking smile lighted her countenance, as her eyes met the 
 sympathy that was expressed in the countenances of several 
 of the grave men who had been drawn as arbiters, in her 
 case, between life and death. To her it was apparent that 
 her sex, her youth, perhaps her air and beauty, stood her 
 friends, and that she might largely count on the compas- 
 sion of that small but important body of men. One of her 
 calculations had succeeded to the letter. The tale of her 
 being a stool-pigeon had been very actively circulated, 
 with certain additions and embellishments that; it was very 
 easy to disprove ; and another set of agents had been hard 
 at work, all the morning, in brushing away such of the 
 collateral circumstances as had, at first, been produced to 
 confirm the main story, and which, in now being pulled to 
 pieces as of no account, did not fail to cast a shade of the 
 darkest doubt over the whole rumor. All this Mary Mon- 
 son probably understood, and understanding, enjoyed ; a 
 vein of wild wilfulness certainly running through her 
 character, leading in more directions than one. 
 
 " I hope there will be" no delay on account of witnesses," 
 observed the judge. " Time is very precious." 
 
 "We are armed at all points, your honor, and intend to 
 bring the matter to an early conclusion," answered Wil- 
 liams, casting one of those glances at the prisoner which 
 had obtained for him the merited sobriquet of " saucy." 
 " Crier, call Samuel Burton." 
 
 Timms fairly started. This was breaking ground in a 
 new spot, and was producing testimony from a source that 
 he much dreaded. The Burtons had been the nearest 
 neighbors of the Goodwins, and were so nearly on a social 
 level with them, as to live in close and constant communi- 
 cation. These Burtons consisted of the man, his wife, and 
 three maiden sisters. At one time, the last had conversed 
 much on the subject of the murders ; but, to Timms's great 
 
320 TH WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 discontent, they had been quite dumb of late. This had 
 prevented his putting in practice a method of anticipating 
 testimony, that is much in vogue, and which he had de- 
 liberately attempted with these sometime voluble females. 
 As the reader may not be fully initiated in the mysteries 
 of that sacred and all-important master of the social rela- 
 tions, the law, we shall set forth the manner in which 
 justice is often bolstered, when its interests are cared for 
 by practitioners of the Timms and Williams school. 
 
 No sooner is it ascertained that a particular individual 
 has a knowledge of an awkward fact, than these worthies 
 of the bar set to work to extract the dangerous information 
 from him. This is commonly attempted, and often effected, 
 by inducing the witness to relate what he knows, and by 
 leading him on to make statements that, on being sworn to 
 in court, will either altogether invalidate his testimony, or 
 throw so much doubt on it as to leave it of very little value. 
 As the agents employed to attain this end are not very 
 scrupulous, there is great danger that their imaginations 
 may supply the defects in the statements, and substitute 
 words and thoughts that the party never uttered. It is so 
 easy to mistake another's meaning, with even the best 
 intentions, that we are not to be surprised if this should 
 seriously happen when the disposition is to mislead. With 
 the parties to suits, this artifice is often quite successful, 
 admissions being obtained, or supposed to be obtained, 
 that they never, for an instant, intended to make. In the 
 States where speculation has cornered men, and left them 
 loaded with debt, these devices of the eaves-droppers and 
 suckers are so common, as to render their testimony no 
 immaterial feature in nearly every cause of magnitude that 
 is tried. In such a state of society it is, indeed, unsafe 
 for a suitor to open his lips on his affairs, lest some one 
 near him be employed to catch up his words, and carry 
 them into court with shades of meaning gathered from his 
 own imagination. 
 
 At first, Timms was under the impression that the Bur- 
 tons w T ere going to sustain the defence, and he was placing 
 himself on the most amiable footing with the females, three 
 of whom might very reasonably be placed within the cate- 
 gory of matrimony with this rising lawyer ; but it was not 
 long ere he ascertained that Williams was getting to be in- 
 timate, and had proved to be a successful rival. Davis, 
 the nephew and heir of the Goodwins, was a single man, 
 too, and it is probable that his frequent visits to the dwell- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 321 
 
 ing of the Burtons had a beneficial influence on his own 
 interests. Let. the cause be what it might, the effect was 
 clearly to seal the lips of the whole family, not a member 
 of which could be induced, by any art practised by the 
 agents of Timms, to utter a syllable on a subject that now 
 really seemed to be forbidden. When, therefore, Burton 
 appeared on the stand, and was sworn, the two counsel 
 for the defence waited for him to open his lips, with a pro- 
 found and common interest. 
 
 Burton knew the deceased, had lived all his life near 
 them, was at home the night of the fire, went to assist the 
 old people, saw the two skeletons, had no doubt they were 
 the remains of Peter Goodwin and his wife ; observed the 
 effects of a heavy blow across the foreheads of each, the 
 same that was still to be seen ; inferred that this blow had 
 destroyed them, or so far stunned them as to leave them 
 incapable of escaping from the fire. 
 
 This witness was then questioned on the subject of the 
 stocking, and Mrs. Goodwin's hoard of money. He had 
 seen the stocking but once, had often heard it mentioned 
 by his sisters ; did not think his wife had ever alluded to it ; 
 did not know the amount of gold, but supposed it might 
 be very considerable ; saw the bureau examined, and knew 
 that the stocking could riot be found. In a word, his tes- 
 timony in chief went generally to sustain the impression 
 that prevailed relative to the murders, though it is unnec- 
 essary to repeat it in this form, as the cross-examination 
 will better explain his statements and opinions. 
 
 "Mr. Burton," said Dunscomb, " you knew the Good- 
 wins well ?" 
 
 " Very well, sir. As well as near neighbors generally 
 know each other." 
 
 " Can you swear that these are the skeletons of Peter 
 and Dorothy Goodwin ? " 
 
 " I can swear that I believe them to be such have no 
 doubt of the fact." 
 
 " Point out that which you suppose to be the skeleton 
 of Peter Goodwin." 
 
 This request embarrassed the witness. In common with 
 all around him, he had no other clew to his facts than the 
 circumstances under which these vestiges of mortality had 
 been found, and he did not know what ought to be his reply. 
 
 "I suppose the shortest of the skeletons to be Peter 
 Goodwin's, and the longest that of his wife," he at length 
 answered. " Peter was not as tall as Dorothy." 
 21 
 
322 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Which is the shortest of these remains ?" 
 
 " That I could not say, without measuring. I know 
 that Goodwin was not as tall as his wife by half an inch, 
 for I have seen them measured." 
 
 " Then you would say that, in your opinion, the longest 
 of these two skeletons is that of Dorothy Goodwin, and 
 the shortest that of her husband ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; that is my opinion formed to the best of my 
 knowledge. I have seen them measured." 
 
 "Was this measurement accurate ?" 
 
 "Very much so. They used to dispute about their 
 height, and they measured several times, when I was by ; 
 generally in their stocking feet, and once barefoot." 
 
 "The difference being half an inch in favor of the 
 wife ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, as near as could be ; for I was umpire more 
 than once." 
 
 "Did Peter Goodwin and his wife live happily to- 
 gether ? " 
 
 "Tolerable much as other married folks get along." 
 
 " Explain what you mean by that." 
 
 " Why, there's ups and downs, I suppose, in all families. 
 Dorothy was high-tempered, and Peter was sometimes 
 cross-grained." 
 
 " Do you mean that they quarrelled ? " 
 
 "They got r'iled with each other, now and then." 
 
 " Was Peter Goodwin a sober man ? " 
 
 The witness now appeared to be bothered. He looked 
 around him, and meeting everywhere with countenances 
 which evidently reflected "yes," he had not the moral 
 courage to run counter to public opinion, and say "no." 
 It is amazing what a tyrant this concentration of minds 
 gets to be over those who are not very clear-headed them- 
 selves, and who are not constituted, morally, to resist its 
 influence. It almost possesses a power to persuade these 
 persons not to put faith in their own senses, and disposes 
 them to believe what they hear, rather than what they have 
 seen. Indeed, one effect is to cause them to see with the 
 eyes of others. As the " neighbors," those inquisitors who 
 know so much of persons of their association and intimacy, 
 and so little of all others, very generally fancied Peter a 
 sober man, Burton scarce knew what to answer. Circum- 
 stances had made him acquainted with the delinquency of 
 the old man, but his allegations would riot be sustained 
 were he to speak the whole truth, since Peter had sue- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 323 
 
 ceeded in keeping his infirmity from being generally 
 known. To a man like the witness, it was easier to sacri- 
 fice the truth than to face a neighborhood. 
 
 " I suppose he was much as others," answered Burton, 
 after a delay that caused some surprise. " He was human, 
 and had a human natur'. Independence days, and other 
 rejoicings, I've known him give in more than the temper- 
 ance people think is quite right ; but I shouldn't say he 
 was downright intemperate." 
 
 " He drank to excess, then, on occasions ? " 
 
 " Peter had a very weak head, which was his greatest 
 difficulty." 
 
 "Did you ever count the money in Mrs. Goodwin's 
 stocking ? " 
 
 "I never did. There was gold and paper; but how 
 much I do not know." 
 
 " Did you see any strangers in or about the house of 
 the Goodwins, the morning of the fire ? " 
 
 "Yes ; two strange men were there, and were active in 
 helping the prisoner out of the window, and afterward in 
 getting out the furniture. They were very particular in 
 saving Mary Monson's property." 
 
 "Were those strangers near the bureau ?" 
 
 " Not that I know. I helped carry the bureau out my- 
 self ; and I was present afterward in court when it was 
 examined for the money. We found none." 
 
 " What became of those strangers ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you. They were lost to me in the con- 
 fusion." 
 
 ' Had you ever seen them before ? " 
 
 'Never." 
 
 ' Nor since ? " 
 
 4 No, sir." 
 
 ' Will you have the goodness to take that rod, and tell 
 me what is the difference in length between the two skele- 
 tons ?" 
 
 ." I trust, your honor, that this is testimony which will 
 not be received," put in Williams. " The fact is before the 
 jury, and they can take cognizance of it for themselves." 
 
 Dunscomb smiled as he answered 
 
 " The zeal of the learned gentleman runs ahead of his 
 knowledge of the rules of evidence. Does he expect a 
 jury to measure the remains ; or are we to show the fact 
 by means of witnesses ? " 
 
 " This is a cross-examination ; and the question is one in 
 
324 TJIK WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 chief. The witness belongs to the defence, if the question 
 is to be put at all." 
 
 " I think not, your honor. The witness has testified, in 
 chief, that he believes these remains to be those of Peter 
 and Dorothy Goodwin ; he has further said, on his cross- 
 examination, that Dorothy was half an inch taller than 
 Peter ; we now wish to put to the test the accuracy of the 
 first opinion, by comparing the two facts his knowledge 
 of the difference by the former measurement as compared 
 with the present. It has been said that these two skeletons 
 are very nearly of a length. We wish the truth to be seen." 
 
 " The witness will answer the question," said the judge. 
 
 " I doubt the power of the court to compel a witness to 
 obtain facts in this irregular mode," observed the perti- 
 nacious Williams. 
 
 " You can note your exceptions, brother Williams," re- 
 turned the judge, smiling; "although it is not easy to see 
 with what useful consequences. If the prisoner be ac- 
 quitted, you can hardly expect to try her again ; and, if 
 convicted, the prosecution will scarcely wish to press any 
 objection." 
 
 Williams, who was as much influenced by a bull-dog 
 tenacity as by any other motive, now submitted ; and Bur- 
 ton took the rod and measured the skeletons, an office he 
 might have declined, most probably, had he seen fit. The 
 spectators observed surprise in his countenance ; and he 
 was seen to repeat the measurement, seemingly with more 
 care. 
 
 "Well, sir, what is the difference in the length of those 
 skeletons ? " inquired Dunscomb. 
 
 " I make it about an inch and a half, if these marks are 
 to be relied on," was the slow, cautious, well-considered 
 reply. 
 
 " Do you now say that you believe these skeletons to be 
 the remains of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin ? " 
 
 " Whose else can they be ? They were found on the 
 spot where the old couple used to sleep." 
 
 " I ask you to answer my question ; I am not here to an- 
 swer yours. Do you still say that you believe these to be 
 the skeletons of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin ?" 
 
 "I am a good deal nonplussed by this measurement 
 though the flesh, and skin, and muscles, may have made a 
 considerable difference in life." 
 
 " Certainly," said Williams, with one of his withering 
 sneers sneers that had carried many a cause purely by 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 325 
 
 their impudence and sarcasm " Every one knows how 
 much more muscle a man has than a woman. It causes 
 the great difference in their strength. A bunch of muscles, 
 more or less, in the heel, would explain all this, and a 
 great deal more." 
 
 " How many persons dwelt in the house of Goodwin at 
 the time of the fire ?" demanded Dunscomb. 
 
 " They tell me Mary Monson was there, and I saw her 
 there during the fire ; but I never saw her there before." 
 
 "Do you know of any other inmate besides the old 
 couple and the prisoner?" 
 
 " I did see a strange woman about the house for a week 
 or two before the fire, but I never spoke to her. They tell 
 me she was High Dutch." 
 
 " Never mind what they fc//you, Mr. Burton " observed 
 the judge ''testify only to what you know" 
 
 " Did you see this strange woman at the fire, or after the 
 fire ? " continued Dunscomb. 
 
 " I can't say that I did. I remember to have looked 
 round for her, too ; but I did not find her." 
 
 " Was her absence spoken of in the crowd at the time ?" 
 
 " Something was said about it ; but we were too much 
 taken up with the old couple to think a great deal of this 
 stranger." 
 
 This is an outline of Burton's testimony ; though the 
 cross-examination was continued for more than an hour, 
 and Williams had him again examined in chief. That in- 
 trepid practitioner contended that the defence had made 
 Burton its own witness in all that related to the measure- 
 ment of the skeletons ; and that he had a right to a cross- 
 examination. After all this contest, the only fact of any 
 moment elicited from the witness related to the difference 
 in stature between Goodwin and his wife, as has been 
 stated already. 
 
 In the meantime, Timms ascertained that the last report 
 set on foot by his own agents, at the suggestion of Mary 
 Monson herself, was circulating freely ; and, though it 
 was directly opposed to the preceding rumor, which had 
 found great favor with the gossips, this extravagant tale 
 was most greedily swallowed. We conceive that those 
 persons who are so constituted, morally, as to find pleasure 
 in listening to the idle rumors that float about society, are 
 objects of pity; their morbid desire to talk of the affairs of 
 others being a disease that presses them down beneath the 
 level they might otherwise occupy. With such persons, 
 
326 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 the probabilities go for nothing ; and they are more in- 
 clined to give credit to a report that excites their interest, 
 by running counter to all the known laws of human ac- 
 tions, than to give faith to its contradiction, when sus- 
 tained by every reason that experience sustains. Thus 
 was it on the present occasion. There was something so 
 audacious in the rumor that Mary Monson belonged to a 
 gang of rogues in town, and had been sent especially to 
 rob the Goodwins, that vulgar curiosity found great delight 
 in it ; the individual who heard the report usually sending 
 it on with additions of his own, that had their authority 
 purely in the workings of a dull imagination. It is in that 
 way that this great faculty of the mind is made to perform 
 a double duty ; which in the one case is as pure and en- 
 nobling, as in the other it is debasing and ignoble. The 
 man of a rich imagination, he who is capable of throw- 
 ing the charms of poetical feeling around the world in 
 which we dwell, is commonly a man of truth. The high 
 faculty which he possesses seems, in such cases, to be em- 
 ployed in ferreting out facts which, on proper occasions, 
 he produces distinctly, manfully, and logically. On the 
 other hand, there is a species of subordinate imagination 
 that is utterly incapable of embellishing life with charms 
 of any sort, and which delights in the false. This last is 
 the imagination of the gossip. It obtains some modicum 
 of facts, mixes it with large quantities of stupid fiction, 
 delights in the idol it has thus fashioned out of its own 
 head, and sends it abroad to find worshippers as dull, as 
 vulgar-minded, and as uncharitable, as itself. 
 
 Timms grew frightened at the success of his client's 
 scheme, and felt the necessity of commencing the reaction 
 at once, if the last were to have time in which to produce 
 its effect. He had been warmly opposed to the project in 
 the commencement, and had strenuously resisted its adop- 
 tion ; but Mary Monson would not listen to his objections. 
 She even threatened to employ another, should he fail her. 
 The conceit seemed to have taken "a strong hold on her 
 fancy, and all the wilfulness of her character had come in 
 aid of this strange scheme. The thing was done ; and it 
 now remained to prevent its effecting the mischief it was 
 so well adapted to produce. 
 
 All this time the fair prisoner sat in perfectly composed 
 silence, listening attentively to everything that was said, 
 and occasionally taking a note. Timms ventured to sug- 
 gest that it might be better were she to abstain from doing 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 327 
 
 the last, as it gave her the air of knowing too much, and 
 helped to deprive her of the interesting character of an un- 
 protected female ; but she turned a perfectly deaf ear to 
 his admonitions, hints, and counsel. He was a safe adviser, 
 nevertheless, in matters of this sort ; but Mary Monson 
 was not accustomed so much to follow the leadings of 
 others as to submit to her own impulses. 
 
 The sisters of Burton were next examined. They 
 proved all the admitted facts ; testified as to the stocking 
 and its contents, and two of them recognized the piece of 
 gold which was said to have been found in Mary Monson's 
 purse as that which had once been the property of Dorothy 
 Goodwin. On this head, the testimony of each was full, 
 direct, and explicit. Each had often seen the piece of 
 gold, and they had noted. a very small notch or scratch 
 near the edge, which notch or scratch was visible on the 
 piece now 1 presented in court. The cross-examination 
 failed to shake this testimony, and well it might, for every 
 word these young women stated was strictly true. The 
 experiment of placing the piece of coin among other simi- 
 lar coin, failed with them. They easily recognized the 
 true piece by the notch. Timms was confounded ; Duns- 
 comb looked very grave ; Williams raised his nose higher 
 than ever, and Mary Monson was perfectly surprised. 
 When the notch was first mentioned, she arose, advanced 
 far enough to examine the coin, and laid her hand on her 
 forehead, as if she pondered painfully on the circumstance. 
 The testimony that this was the identical piece found in 
 her purse was very ample, the coin having been sealed up 
 and kept by the coroner, who had brought it into court ; 
 while it must now be admitted that a very strong case was 
 made out to show that this foreign coin had once been 
 among the hoards of Dorothy Goodwin. A very deep im- 
 pression was made by this testimony on all who heard it, 
 including the court, the bar, the jury, and the audience. 
 Every person present, but those who were in the immedi- 
 ate confidence of the accused, was firmly convinced of 
 Mary Monson's guilt. Perhaps the only other exceptions 
 to this mode of thinking were a few experienced prac- 
 titioners, who, from long habit, knew the vast importance 
 of hearing both sides before they made up their minds in 
 a matter of so much moment. 
 
 We shall not follow Dunscomb through his long and 
 arduous cross-examination of the sisters of Burton, but 
 confine ourselves to a few of the more pertinent of the in- 
 
328 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 terrogatories that he put to the eldest, and which were duly 
 repeated when the other two were placed on the stand. 
 
 "Will you name the persons dwelling in the house of the 
 Goodwins at the time of the fire ?" asked Dunscomb. 
 
 " There were the two old folks, this Mary Monson, and 
 a German woman named Yetty (Jette) that aunt Dorothy 
 took in to wait on her boarders." 
 
 " Was Mrs. Goodwin your aunt, then ?" 
 
 "No ; we wasn't related no how ; but, being such near 
 neighbors, and she so old, we just called her aunt by way 
 of a compliment." 
 
 " I understand that," said Dunscomb, arching his brows 
 "I am called uncle, and by very charming young per- 
 sons, on the same principle. Did you know much of this 
 German?" 
 
 " I saw her almost every day for the time she was there, 
 and talked with her as well as I could ; but she spoke very 
 little English. Mary Monson was the only person who 
 could talk with her freely ; she spoke her language." 
 
 " Had you much acquaintance with the prisoner at the 
 bar ? " 
 
 " I was some acquainted, as a body always is when they 
 live such near neighbors." 
 
 "Were your .conversations with the prisoner frequent, 
 or at all confidential ?" 
 
 " To own the truth, I never spoke to her in my life. 
 Mary Monson was much too grand for me." 
 
 Dunscomb smiled ; he understood how common it w r as 
 for persons in this country to say they are "well acquaint- 
 ed " with this or that individual when their whole knowl- 
 edge is derived from the common tongue. An infinity of 
 mischief is done by this practice ; but the ordinary Ameri- 
 can who will admit that he lives near any one without hav- 
 ing an acquaintance with him, if acquaintance is supposed 
 to confer credit, is an extraordinary exception to a very 
 general rule. The idea of being " too grand " was of a 
 nature to injure the prisoner and to impair her rights, and 
 Dunscomb deemed it best to push the witness a little 
 on this point. 
 
 "Why did you think Mary Monson was ' too grand ' for 
 you ?" he demanded. 
 
 "Because she looked so." 
 
 " How did she look ? In what way dees or did her looks 
 indicate that she was, or thought herself * too grand ' for 
 your association ? " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 329 
 
 "Is this necessary, Mr. Dunscomb?" demanded the 
 judge. 
 
 "I beg your honor will suffer the gentleman to proceed," 
 put in Williams, cocking his nose higher than ever, and 
 looking round the court-room with an air of intelligence 
 that the great York counsellor did not like. " It is an in- 
 teresting subject ; and we, poor ignorant Dukes County 
 folks, may get useful ideas, to teach us how to look * too 
 grand !'" 
 
 Dunscomb felt that he had made a false step ; and he 
 had the self-command to stop. 
 
 " Had you any conversation with the German woman ?" 
 he continued, bowing slightly to the judge to denote sub- 
 mission to his pleasure. 
 
 " She couldn't talk English. Mary Monson talked with 
 her, I didn't, to any account." 
 
 " Were you at the fire ? " 
 
 " I was." 
 
 " Did you see anything of this German during the fire, 
 or afterward ? " 
 
 " I didn't. She disappeared, unaccountable ! " 
 
 " Did you visit the Goodwins as often after Mary Mon- 
 son came to live with them, as you had done previously ? " 
 
 " I didn't grand looks and grand language isn't agree- 
 able to me." 
 
 " Did Mary Monson ever speak to you ? " 
 
 " I think, your honor," objected Williams, who did not 
 like the question, "that this is travelling out of the rec- 
 ord." 
 
 " Let the gentleman proceed time is precious, and a 
 discussion would lose us more of it than to let him pro- 
 ceed go on, Mr. Dunscomb." 
 
 " Did Mary Monson ever speak to you ?" 
 
 " She never did, to my knowledge." 
 
 " What then do you mean by ' grand language ? ' ' 
 
 "Why, when she spoke to Aunt Dorothy, she didn't 
 speak as I was used to hear folks speak." 
 
 " In what respect was the difference ? " 
 
 " She was grander in her speech, and more pretending 
 like." 
 
 " Do you mean louder ? " 
 
 " No perhaps she wasn't as loud as common but 'twas 
 more like a book, and uncommon." 
 
 Dunscomb understood all this perfectly, as well as the 
 feeling which lay at its bottom, but he saw that the jury 
 
33 
 
 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 did not ; and he was forced to abandon the inquiry, as often 
 happens on such occasions, on account of the ignorance 
 of those to whom the testimony was addressed. He soon 
 after abandoned the cross-examination of the sister of Bur- 
 ton ; when his wife was brought upon the stand by the 
 prosecution. 
 
 This woman, coming from a different stock, had none of 
 the family characteristics of the sisters. As they were 
 garrulous, forward, and willing enough to testify, she was 
 silent, reserved in manner, thoughtful, and seemingly so 
 diffident that she trembled all over, as she laid her hand 
 on the sacred volume. Mrs. Burton passed for a very good 
 woman among all who dwelt in or near Biberry ; and there 
 was much more confidence felt in her revelations than in 
 those of her sisters-in-law. Great modesty, not to say tim- 
 idity of manner, an air of singular candor, a low, gentle 
 voice, and an anxious expression of countenance, as if she 
 weighed the import of every syllable she uttered, soon 
 won for this witness the sympathy of all present, as well 
 as perfect credence. Every word she uttered had a direct 
 influence on the case ; and this so much the more since 
 she testified reluctantly, and would gladly have been per- 
 mitted to say nothing. 
 
 The account given by Mrs. Burton, in her examination 
 in chief, did not materially diifer from that previously 
 stated by her sisters-in-law. She knew more, in some re- 
 spects, than those who had preceded her, while, in others, 
 she knew less. She had been* more in the confidence of 
 Dorothy Goodwin than any other member of her family, 
 had seen her oftener, and knew more of her private affairs. 
 With the stocking and its contents she admitted that she 
 was familiarly acquainted. The gold exceeded twelve hun- 
 dred dollars in amount ; she had counted it, in her own 
 hands. There was paper, also, but she did not know how 
 much, exactly, as Dorothy kept that very much to herself. 
 She knew, however, that her neighbors talked of purchas- 
 ing a farm, the price of which was quite five thousand dol- 
 lars, a sum that Dorothy often talked of paying down. She 
 thought the deceased must have had money to that amount, 
 in some form or other. 
 
 On the Subject of the piece of gold found in Mary Mon- 
 son's purse, Mrs. Burton gave her testimony with the most 
 amiable discretion. Every one compared the reserve and 
 reluctance of her manner most favorably with the pert 
 readiness of Mrs. Pope and the sisters. This witness ap- 
 
THE WAYS OF TUE JIOUX. 33! 
 
 peared to appreciate the effect of all she said, arid uttered 
 the facts she knew with a gentleness of manner that gave 
 great weight to her testimony. Dunscomb soon saw that 
 this was the witness the defence had most reason to dread, 
 and he used the greatest care in having every word she 
 said written out with precision. 
 
 Mrs. Burton swore point blank to the piece of notched 
 gold, although she fairly trembled as she gave her testi- 
 mony. She knew it was the very piece that she had often 
 seen in Dorothy Goodwin's possession ; she had examined it, 
 at least a dozen times, and could have selected it among a 
 thousand similar coins, by means of its private marks. 
 Besides the notch, there was a slight defect in the impres- 
 sion of the date. This had been pointed out to her by 
 Dorothy Goodwin herself, who had said it was a good 
 mark by which to know the piece, should it be stolen. On 
 this head, the witness's testimony was firm, clear, and full. 
 As it was corroborated by so much other evidence, the 
 result was a deep and very general impression of the pris- 
 oner's guilt. 
 
 It was late when the examination in chief of Mrs. Bur- 
 ton terminated. She stated that she was much fatigued, 
 and was suffering under a severe headache ; and Williams 
 asked, in her behalf, that the court would adjourn over, 
 until next day, ere the cross-examination was gone into. 
 This suited Dunscomb's views altogether, for he knew 
 he might lose an essential advantage by allowing 1 the wit- 
 ness a night to arrange her thoughts, pending so search- 
 ing a process. There being no resistance on the part of 
 the prisoner to the request of the prosecution, the judge 
 so far waived his regard for the precious time of the court, 
 as to consent to adjourn at eight o'clock in the evening, 
 instead of pushing the case to ten or eleven. As a conse- 
 quence the jurors took their rest in bed, instead of sleep- 
 ing in the jury-box. 
 
 Dunscomb left the court-house, that night, dejected, and 
 with no great expectation of the acquittal of his client. 
 Timms had a better feeling, and thought nothing had yet 
 appeared that might not be successfully resisted. 
 
THE WA YS OF 7'IfE HOUR. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " I've not wronged her." 
 
 " Far be it from my fears." 
 
 " Then why this argument ? " 
 
 " My lord, my nature's jealous, and you'll bear it." 
 
 OTWAY. 
 
 So great was the confidence of Sarah Wilmeter and 
 Anna Updyke in the innocence of their friend, that almost 
 every step that the trial advanced, appeared to them as so 
 much progress toward an eventual acquittal. It was per- 
 haps a little singular that the party most interested, she 
 who knew her own guilt or innocence, became dejected, 
 and for the first half hour after they had left the court- 
 room she was silent and thoughtful. Good Mrs. Gott was 
 quite in despair, and detained Anna Updyke, with whom 
 she had established a sort of intimacy, as she opened the 
 door of the gallery for the admission of the party, in order 
 to say a word on the subject that lay nearest to her heart. 
 
 "Oh! Miss Anna," said the sheriff 's wife, "it goes from 
 bad to worse ! It was bad enough last evening, and it is 
 worse to-night." 
 
 "Who tells you this, Mrs. Gott ? So far from thinking 
 as you do, I regard it as appearing particularly favorable." 
 
 "You must have heard what Burton said, and what his 
 wife said, too. They are the witnesses I dread." 
 
 " Yes, but who will mind what such persons say ! I am 
 sure if fifty Mr. and Mrs. Burtons were to testify that 
 Mary Monson had taken money that did not belong to her, 
 I should not believe them." 
 
 " You are not a Dukes County jury ! Why, Miss Anna, 
 these men will believe almost anything you tell them. 
 Only swear to it, and there's no accounting for their cre- 
 dulity. No ; I no more believe in Mary Monson's guilt 
 than I do in my own, but law is law, they say, and rich and 
 poor must abide by it." 
 
 "You view the matter under a false light, my kind- 
 hearted Mrs. Gott, and after a night's rest will see the case 
 differently. Sarah and I have been delighted with the 
 course of things. You must have remarked no one said 
 that Mary Monson had been seen to set fire to the 
 house, or to harm the Goodwins, or to touch their prop- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 333 
 
 erty, or to do anything that was wrong ; and of course she 
 must be acquitted." 
 
 " I wish that piece of gold had not been found in her 
 pocket! It's that which makes all the trouble." 
 
 " I think nothing of that, my good friend. There is 
 nothing remarkable in two pieces of money having the 
 same marks on them ; I have seen that often, myself. 
 Besides Mary Monson explains all that, and her declara- 
 tion is as good as that of this Mrs. Burton's, any day." 
 
 "Not in law, Miss Anna ; no, not in law. Out of doors 
 it might be much better, and probably is ; but not in court, 
 by what they tell me. Gott says it is beginning to look 
 very dark, and that we, in the jail, here, must prepare for 
 the very worst. I tell him, if I was he, I'd resign before 
 I'd execute such a beautiful creature ! " 
 
 "You make me shudder with such horrid thoughts, Mrs. 
 Gott, and I will thank you to open the door. Take cour- 
 age ; we shall never have to lament such a catastrophe, or 
 your husband to perform so revolting a duty." 
 
 " I hope not I'm sure I hope not, with all my heart. I 
 would prefer that Gott should give up all hopes of ever 
 rising any higher, than have him do this office. One 
 never knows, Miss Anna, what is to happen in life, though 
 I was as happy as a child when he was made sheriff. If 
 my words have any weight with him, and he often says 
 they have, I shall never let him execute Mary Monson. 
 You are young, Miss Anna ; but you've heard the tongue 
 of flattery, I make no doubt, and know how sweet it is 
 to woman's ear." 
 
 Mrs. Gott had been wiping her eyes with one hand, and 
 putting the key into the lock with the other, while talk- 
 ing, and she now stood regarding her young companion 
 with a sort of motherly interest, as she made this appeal 
 to her experience. Anna blushed "rosy red," and raised 
 her gloved hand to turn the key, as if desirous of getting 
 away from the earnest look of the matron. 
 
 " That's just the way with all of us, Miss Anna !" con- 
 tinued Mrs. Gott. " We listen, and listen, and listen ; and 
 believe, and believe, and believe, until we are no longer 
 the gay, light-hearted creatures that we were, but become 
 mopy, and sightful, and anxious, to a degree that makes 
 us forget father and mother, and fly from the paternal 
 roof." 
 
 " Will you have the kindness, now, to let me into the 
 jail ? " said Anna, in the gentlest voice imaginable. 
 
334 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "In a minute, my dear I call you my dear, because I 
 like you ; for I never use what Gott calls ' high-flown.' 
 There is Mr. John Wilmeter, now, as handsome and agree- 
 able a youth as ever came to Biberry. He comes here 
 two or three times a day, and sits and talks with me in the 
 most agreeable way, until I've got to like him better than 
 any young man of my acquaintance. He talks of you, 
 quite half the time ; and when he is not talking of you, he 
 is thinking of you, as I know by the way he gazes at this 
 very door." 
 
 "Perhaps his thoughts are on Mary Monson," answered 
 Anna, blushing scarlet. " You know she is a sort of client 
 of his, and he has been here in her service for a good 
 while." 
 
 " She hardly ever saw him ; scarcely ever, except at this 
 grate. His foot never crossed this threshold, until his 
 uncle came ; and since, I believe, he has gone in but once. 
 Mary Monson is not the being he worships." 
 
 " I trust he worships the Being we all worship, Mrs. 
 Gott," struggling gently to turn the key and succeeding. 
 " It is not for us poor frail beings to talk of being wor- 
 shipped." 
 
 " Or of worshipping, as I tell Gott," said the sheriff's 
 wife, permitting her companion to depart. 
 
 Anna found Mary Monson and Sarah walking together 
 in the gallery, conversing earnestly. 
 
 "It is singular that nothing reaches us from Michael 
 Millington ! " exclaimed the last, as Anna interlocked 
 arms with her, and joined the party. " It is now near 
 eight-and-forty hours since my uncle sent him to town." 
 
 " On my business ? " demanded Mary Monson, quickly. 
 
 " Certainly ; on no other though what it was that took 
 him away so suddenly, I have not been told. I trust you 
 will be able to overturn all that these Burtons have said, 
 and to repair the mischief they have done ? " 
 
 u Fear nothing for me, Miss Wilmeter," answered the 
 prisoner, with singular steadiness of manner " I tell you, 
 as I have often told your friend, I must be acquitted. Let 
 justice take its course, say I, and the guilty be punished. 
 I have a clew to the whole story, as I believe, and must 
 make provision for to-morrow. Do you two, dear warm- 
 hearted friends as you are, now leave me ; and when you 
 reach the inn, send Mr. Dunscomb hither, as soon as possi- 
 ble. Not that Timms ; but noble, honest, and upright- 
 Mr. Dunscomb. Kiss me, each of you, and so good night. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 335 
 
 Think of me in your prayers. I am a great sinner, and 
 have need of your prayers." 
 
 The wishes of Mary Monson were obeyed, and the young 
 ladies left the jail for the night. Ten minutes later Duns- 
 comb reached the place, and was admitted. His conference 
 with his client was long, intensely interesting, and it quite 
 unsettled the notions he had now, for some time, enter- 
 tained of her guilt. She did not communicate anything 
 concerning her past life, nor did she make any promises 
 on that subject ; but she did communicate facts of great 
 importance, as connected with the result of her trial. 
 Dunscomb left her, at a late hour, with views entirely 
 changed, hopes revived, and his resolution stimulated. 
 He made ample entries in his brief ; nor did he lay his 
 head on his pillow until it was very late. 
 
 The little court-house bell rang as usual, next morning, 
 and judge, jurors, witnesses, lawyers, and the curious in 
 general, collected as before, without any ceremony, though 
 in decent quiet. The case was now getting to be so 
 serious, that all approached it as truly a matter of life and 
 death ; even the reporters submitting to an impulse of 
 humanity, and viewing the whole affair less in a business 
 point of view, than as one which might carry a singularly 
 gifted woman into the other world. The first act of the 
 day opened by putting Mrs. Burton on the stand, for her 
 cross-examination. As every intelligent person present 
 understood that on her testimony depended the main re- 
 sult, the fall of a pin might almost have been heard, so 
 profound was the general wish to catch what was going 
 on. The witness, however, appeared to be calm, while the 
 advocate was pale and anxious. He had the air of one 
 who had slept little the past night. He arranged his 
 papers with studied care, made each movement deliber- 
 ately, compressed his lips, and seemed to be bringing his 
 thoughts into such a state of order and distinctness that 
 each might be resorted to as it was needful. In point of 
 fact, Dunscomb foresaw that a human life depended very 
 much on the result of this cross-examination, and, like a 
 conscientious man, he was disposed to do his whole duty. 
 No wonder, then, that he paused to reflect, was deliberate 
 in his acts, and concentrated in feeling. 
 
 " We will first give our attention to this piece of gold, 
 Mrs. Burton," the counsel for the prisoner mildly com- 
 menced, motioning to the coroner, who was in court to 
 show the witness the piece of money so often examined 
 
336 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Are you quite certain that it is the very coin that yov 
 saw in the possession of Mrs. Goodwin ?" 
 
 " Absolutely certain, sir. As certain as I am of any- 
 thing in the world." 
 
 " Mrs. Burton, I wish you to remember that the life of 
 the prisoner at the bar will, most probably, be affected by 
 your testimony. Be kind enough, then, to be very guarded 
 and close in your answers. Do you still say that this is 
 the precise coin that you once saw in Mrs. Goodwin's 
 stocking ? " 
 
 The witness seemed suddenly struck with the manner of 
 the advocate. She trembled from head to foot. Still, 
 Dunscomb spoke mildly, kindly even ; and the idea con- 
 veyed in the present, was but a repetition of that conveyed 
 in the former question. Nevertheless those secret agen- 
 cies, by means of which thought meets thought, unknown 
 to all but their possessors ; that set in motion, as it might 
 be, all the covert currents of the mind, causing them to 
 flow toward similar streams in the mind of another, were 
 now at work, and Dunscomb and the witness had a clew to 
 each other's meaning that entirely escaped the observation 
 of all around them. There is nothing novel in this state 
 of secret intelligence. It doubtless depends on a mutual 
 consciousness, and a common knowledge of certain mate- 
 rial facts, the latter being applied by the former, with 
 promptitude and tact. Notwithstanding her sudden alarm, 
 and the change it brought over her entire manner, .Mrs. 
 Burton answered the question as before ; what was more, 
 she answered it truly. The piece of gold found in Mary 
 Monson's purse, and now in possession of the coroner, 
 who had kept it carefully, in order to identify it, had been 
 in Dorothy Goodwin's stocking. 
 
 " Quite certain, sir. I know that to be the same piece 
 of money that I saw at different times, in Mrs. Goodwin's 
 stocking." 
 
 "Did you ever have that gold coin in your own hand, 
 Mrs. Burton, previously to this trial ? " 
 
 This was a very natural and simple interrogatory ; one 
 that might be, and probably was, anticipated ; yet it gave 
 the witness uneasiness, more from the manner of Duns- 
 comb, perhaps, than from anything in the nature of the 
 inquiry itself. The answer, however, was given promptly, 
 and, as before, with perfect truth. 
 
 " On several occasions, sir. I saw that notch, and talked 
 with MrSr Goodwin about it, more than once." 
 
THE IV AYS OF THE HOUR. 337 
 
 " What was the substance of Mrs. Goodwin's remarks, 
 in relation to that notch ? " 
 
 " She asked me, one time, if I thought it lessened the 
 weight of the coin ; and if so, how much I thought it might 
 take away from its value ? " 
 
 " What was your answer ? " 
 
 " I believe I said I did not think it could make any great 
 difference." 
 
 u Did Mrs. Goodwin ever tell you how, or where, she 
 got that piece of money?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, she did. She told me it came from Mary 
 Monson." 
 
 " In pay for board ; or, for what purpose did it pass from 
 one to the other ?"' 
 
 This, too, was a very simple question, but the witness 
 no longer answered promptly. The reader will remem- 
 ber that Mary Monson had said before the coroner, that 
 she had two of these coins, and that she had given one of 
 them to the poor unfortunate deceased, and had left the 
 other in her own purse. This answer had injured the 
 cause of the accused, inasmuch as it was very easy to tell 
 such a tale, while few in Biberry were disposed to believe 
 that gold passed thus freely, and without any considera- 
 tion, from hand to hand. Mrs. Burton remembered all this, 
 and, for a reason best known to herself, she shrank a little 
 from making the required reply. Still she did answer this 
 question also, and answered it truly. 
 
 " I understood Aunt Dolly to say that Mary Monson 
 made her a present of that piece of money." 
 
 Here Timms elevated his nose, and looked around him 
 in a meaning manner, that appealed to the audience to 
 know if his client was not a person of veracity. Sooth to 
 say, this answer made a strong impression in favor of the 
 accused, and Dunscomb saw with satisfaction that, in so 
 much, he had materially gained ground. He was not a 
 man to gain it, however, by dramatic airs ; he merely 
 paused for a few moments, in order to give full effect to 
 this advantage. 
 
 "Mrs. Goodwin, then, owned to you that she had the 
 coin from Mary Monson, and that it was a present ? " was 
 the next question. 
 
 "She did, sir." 
 
 " Did she say anything about Mary Monson's having 
 another piece of money, like the one before you, and 
 which was given by her to Dorothy Goodwin ? " 
 22 
 
338 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 A long pause succeeded. The witness raised a hand to 
 her brow, and appeared to meditate. Her reputation for 
 taciturnity and gravity of deportment was such, that most 
 of those in court believed she was endeavoring to recollect 
 the past, in order to say neither more nor less than the 
 truth. In point of fact, she was weighing well the effect 
 of her words, for she was a person of extreme caution, and 
 of great reputed probity of character. The reply came at 
 length 
 
 "She did speak on the subject," she said, "and did state 
 something of the kind." 
 
 " Can you recollect her words if so, give them to the 
 jury if not her very words, their substance." 
 
 " Aunt Dolly had a way of her own in talking, which 
 makes it very difficult to repeat her precise words ; 
 but she said, in substance, that Mary Monson, had two 
 of these pieces of money, one of which was given to 
 her" 
 
 11 Mary Monson, then, kept the other?" 
 
 " So I understood it, sir." 
 
 " Have you any knowledge yourself, on this subject ? If 
 so, state it to the jury." 
 
 Another pause, one even longer than before, and again 
 the hand was raised to the brow. The witness now spoke 
 with extreme caution, seeming to feel her way among the 
 facts, as a cat steals on its prey. 
 
 ." I believe I have a little some I have seen Mary 
 Monson's purse, and I believe I saw a piece of money in it 
 which resembled this." 
 
 " Are you not certain of the fact ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I am." , 
 
 Here Dunscomb's face was lighted with a smile ; he evi- 
 dently was encouraged. 
 
 " Were you present, Mrs. Burton, when Mary Monson's 
 purse was examined, in presence of the inquest ?" 
 
 " I was." 
 
 " Did you then see its contents ? " 
 
 " I did " after the longest pause of all. 
 
 " Had you that purse in your hand, ma'am ?" 
 
 The brow was once more shaded, and the recollectioc 
 seemingly taxed. 
 
 " I think I had. It was passed round among us, and I 
 believe that I touched it, as well as others." 
 
 "Are you not certain that you did so ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. Now, I reflect, I know that I did. The 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 339 
 
 piece of money found in Mary Monson's purse, was passed 
 from one to another, and to me, among the rest." 
 
 "This was very wrong," observed his honor. 
 
 " It was wrong, sir ; but not half as wrong as the mur- 
 ders and arson," coolly remarked Williams. 
 
 "Go on, gentlemen time is precious." 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Burton, I wish to ask you a very particular 
 question, and I beg that your answer may be distinct and 
 guarded did you ever have access to the piece of gold 
 found, or said to be found, in Mary Monson's purse, ex- 
 cept on the occasion of the inquest ?" 
 
 The longest pause of all, and the deepest shading of the 
 brow. So long was the self-deliberation this time, as to 
 excite a little remark among the spectators. Still, it was 
 no more than prudent, to be cautious, in a cause of so 
 much importance. 
 
 " I certainly have, sir," was the reply that came at last 
 " I saw it in Dorothy Goodwin's stocking, several times ; 
 had it in my hand, and examined it. This is the way I 
 came to discover the notch. Aunt Dolly and I talked 
 about that notch, as I have already told the court." 
 
 " Quite true, ma'am, we remember that , all your an- 
 swers are carefully written out " 
 
 " I'm sure, nothing that I have said can be written out, 
 which is not true, sir." 
 
 " We are to suppose that. And now, ma'am, permit me 
 to ask if you ever saw that piece of money at any other 
 time than at those you have mentioned. Be particular in 
 the answer." 
 
 " I may," after a long pause. 
 
 " Do you not know ? " 
 
 " I do not, sir." 
 
 " Will you say, on your oath, that you cannot recollect 
 any one occasion, other than those you have mentioned, on 
 which you have seen and handled that piece of money ? " 
 
 " When Aunt Dolly showed it to me, before the coroner, 
 and here in court. I recollect no other time." 
 
 ''Let me put this question to you again, Mrs. Burton 
 recalling the solemnity of the oath you have taken have 
 you, or have you not, seen that piece of money on any 
 other occasion than those you have just mentioned ? " 
 
 " I do not remember ever to have seen it at any other 
 time," answered the woman, firmly. 
 
 Mary Monson gave a little start, and Dunscomb ap- 
 peared disappointed. Timms bit his lip, and looked anx- 
 
340 THE W 'AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 iously at the jury, while Williams once more cocked hh 
 nose, and looked around him in triumph. If the witness 
 spoke the truth, she was now likely to adhere to it ; if, on 
 the other hand, there were really any ground for Duns- 
 comb's question, the witness had passed the Rubicon, and 
 would adhere to her falsehood even more tenaciously 
 than she would adhere to the truth. The remainder of 
 this cross-examination was of very little importance. Noth- 
 ing further was obtained from the witness that went to 
 shake her testimony. 
 
 Our limits will not permit a detailed account of all the 
 evidence that was given in behalf of the prosecution. All 
 that appeared before the inquest was now introduced, 
 methodized and arranged by Williams ; processes that 
 rendered it much more respectable than it had originally 
 appeared to be. At length it came to the turn of the de- 
 fence to open. This was a task that Dunscomb took on 
 himself, Timms, in his judgment, being unequal to it. His 
 opening was very effective, in the way of argument, though 
 necessarily not conclusive, the case not making in favor of 
 his client. 
 
 The public expected important revelations as to the past 
 history of the prisoner, and of this Timms had apprised 
 Dunscomb. The latter, however, was not prepared to 
 make them. Mary Monson maintained all her reserve, and 
 Millington did not return. The cause was now so far ad- 
 vanced as to render it improbable that any facts, of this 
 nature, could be obtained in sufficient season to be used, 
 and the counsel saw the necessity of giving a new turn to 
 this particular point in the case. He consequently com- 
 plained that the prosecution had neglected to show any- 
 thing in the past life of the accused to render it probable 
 she had been guilty of the offences with which she was 
 charged. " Mary Monson appears here," he went on to 
 say, ** with a character as fair as that of any other female 
 in the community. This is the presumption of law, and 
 you will truly regard her, gentlemen, as one that is inno- 
 cent until she is proved to be guilty." The inference drawn 
 from the silence of the prosecution was not strictly logical, 
 perhaps ; but Dunscomb managed at least to mystify the 
 matter in such a way as to prepare the jury to hear a de- 
 fence that would be silent on this head, and to leave a 
 doubt whether this silence were not solely the fault of the 
 counsel for the prosecution. While he was commenting 
 on this branch of the subject, Williams took notes furious- 
 
THR WAYS OF THR HOUR. 341 
 
 ly, and Timms foresaw that he meant to turn the tables on 
 them, at the proper moment. 
 
 Pretty much as a matter of course, Dunscomb was com- 
 pelled to tell the court and jury that the defence relied 
 principally on the insufficiency of the evidence of the other 
 side. This was altogether circumstantial ; and the circum- 
 stances, as he hoped to be able to convince the jury, were 
 of a nature that admitted of more than one construction. 
 Whenever this was the case, it was the duty of the jury to 
 give the accused the full benefit of these doubts. The 
 rest of the opening had the usual character of appeals to 
 the sympathy and justice of the jury, very prudently and 
 properly put. 
 
 Dr. McBrain was now placed upon the stand, when the 
 customary questions were asked, to show that he was a 
 witness entitled to the respect of the court. He was then 
 further interrogated, as follows : 
 
 " Have you seen the two skeletons that are now in court, 
 and which are said to have been taken from the ruins of 
 the house of the Goodwins ? " 
 
 " I have. I saw them before the inquest ; and I have 
 again examined them here, in court." 
 
 " What do you say, as to their sex ? " 
 
 " I believe them both to be the skeletons of females." 
 
 " Do you feel certain of this fact ? " 
 
 " Reasonably so, but not absolutely. No one can pro- 
 nounce with perfect certainty in such a case ; more espe- 
 cially when the remains are in the state in which these 
 have been found. We are guided principally by the com- 
 parative size of the bones ; and, as these are affected by 
 the age of the subject, it is hazardous to be positive. I 
 can only say that I think both of these skeletons belonged 
 to female subjects ; particularly the shortest." 
 
 " Have you measured the skeletons ? " 
 
 " I have, and find one rather more than an inch and a 
 half shorter than the other. The longest measures quite 
 five feet seven and a half, in the the state in which it is ; 
 while the shortest measures a trifle less than five feet six. 
 If women, both were of unusual stature ; particularly the 
 first. I think that the bones of both indicate that they be- 
 longed to females ; and I should have thought the same 
 had I known nothing of the reports which have reached 
 my ears touching the persons whose remains these are 
 said to be." 
 
 "When you first formed your opinion of the sex of those 
 
342 THE WAYS or THE if OCR. 
 
 to whom these remains belonged, had you heard that there 
 was a German woman staying in the house of the Good- 
 wins at the time of the fire ?" 
 
 " I think not ; though I have taken so little heed of these 
 rumors as to be uncertain when I first heard this circum- 
 stance. I do remember, however, that I was under the 
 impression the remains were, beyond a doubt, those of 
 Peter Goodwin ancl his wife, when I commenced the exami- 
 nation of them ; and I very distinctly recollect the surprise 
 I felt when the conviction crossed my mind that both were 
 the skeletons of women. From the nature of this feeling, 
 I rather think I could not have heard anything of the 
 German female at that time." 
 
 The cross-examination of Dr. McBrain was very long 
 and searching, but it did not materially affect the substance 
 of his testimony. On the contrary, it rather strengthened 
 it ; since he had it in his power to explain himself more 
 fully under the interrogatories of Williams, than he could 
 do in an examination in chief. Still, he could go no 
 further than give his strong belief ; declining to pronounce 
 positively on the sex of either individual, in the state in 
 which the remains were found. 
 
 Although nothing positive was obtained from this testi- 
 mony, the minds of the jurors were pointedly directed to 
 the circumstance of the sudden and unexplained disappear- 
 ance of the German woman ; thus making an opening for 
 the admission of a serious doubt connected with the fate 
 of that person. 
 
 It was a sad thing to reflect that, beyond this testimony 
 of McBrain there was little other direct evidence to offer 
 in behalf of the accused. It is true, the insufficiency of 
 that which had been produced by the prosecution might 
 avail her much ; and on this Dunscomb saw that his hopes 
 of an acquittal must depend ; but he could not refrain 
 from regretting, and that bitterly, that the unmoved reso- 
 lution of his client not to let her past life be known, must 
 so much weaken his case, were she innocent, and so much 
 fortify that of the prosecution, under the contrary suppo- 
 sition. Another physician or two were examined to sus- 
 tain McBrain ; but, after all, the condition of the remains 
 was such as to render any testimony questionable. One 
 witness went so far as to say, it is true, that he thought he 
 could distinguish certain unerring signs of the sex in the 
 length of the lower limbs, and in other similar proof ; but 
 even McBrain was forced to admit that such distinctions 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 343 
 
 were very vague and unsatisfactory. His own opinion 
 was formed more from the size of the bones, generally, 
 than from any other proof. In general, there was little 
 difficulty in speaking of the sex of the subject, when the 
 skeleton was entire and well preserved, and particularly 
 when the teeth furnished some clew to the w age ; but, in 
 this particular case, as has already been stated, there could 
 be no such thing as absolute certainty. 
 
 It was with a heavy heart, and with many an anxious glance 
 cast toward the door, in the hope of seeing Michael Mil- 
 lington enter, that Dunscomb admitted the prisoner had 
 no further testimony to offer. He had spun out the little 
 he did possess, in order to give it an appearance of im- 
 portance which it did not actually bring with it, and to di- 
 vert the minds of the jurors from the impression they had 
 probably obtained, of the remains necessarily being those 
 of Goodwin and his wife. 
 
 The summing up on both sides was a grave and solemn 
 scene. Here Williams was thrown out, the district attor- 
 ney choosing to perform his own duty on an occasion so 
 serious. Dunscomb made a noble appeal to the justice of 
 the court and jury; admonishing both of the danger of 
 yielding too easily to circumstantial evidence. It was the 
 best possible proof, he admitted, when the circumstances 
 were sufficiently clear and sufficiently shown to be them- 
 selves beyond controversy. That Mary Monson dwelt 
 with the Goodwins, was in the house at the time of the 
 arson and murder, if such crimes were ever committed at 
 all ; that she escaped and all her property was saved, 
 would of themselves amount to nothing. The testimony, 
 indeed, on several of these heads, rather told in her favor 
 than the reverse. The witnesses for the prosecution 
 proved that she was in her room, beneath the roof, when 
 the flames broke out, and was saved with difficulty. This 
 was a most material fact, and Dunscomb turned it to good 
 account. Would an incendiary be apt to place herself 
 in a situation in which her own life was in danger : and 
 this, too, under circumstances that rendered no such meas- 
 ure necessary ? Then, all the facts connected with Mary 
 Monson's residence and habits told in her favor. Why 
 should she remain so long at the cottage if robbery was 
 her only purpose ? The idea of her belonging to a gang 
 that had sent her to make discoveries and to execute its 
 plans, was preposterous ; for what hindered any of the 
 men of that gang from committing the crimes in the most 
 
344 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 direct manner, and with 'the least loss of time? No; if 
 Mary Monson were guilty, she was undoubtedly guilty on 
 her own account ; and had been acting with the uncertain 
 aim and hand of a woman. The jury must discard all 
 notions of accomplices, and consider the testimony 
 solely in connection with the acts of the accused. Ac- 
 complices, and those of the nature supposed, would 
 have greatly simplified the whole of the wretched trans- 
 action. They would have rendered both the murders 
 and arson unnecessary. The bold and strong do not com- 
 mit these crimes, except in those cases in which resistance 
 renders them necessary. Here was clearly no resistance, 
 as was shown by the quiet positions in which the skele- 
 tons had been found. If a murder was directly commit- 
 ted, it must have been by the blow on the heads ; and 
 the jury was asked to consider whether a delicate female 
 like Mary Monson had even the physical force necessary 
 to strike such a blow. With what instrument was it done ? 
 Nothing of the sort was found near the bodies ; and no 
 proof of any such blow was before the jury. One wit- 
 ness had said that the iron-work of a plow lay quite 
 near the remains ; and it had been shown that Peter Good- 
 win kept such articles in a loft over his bedroom. He 
 would suggest the possibility of the fire's having com- 
 menced in that loft, through which the pipe of a cooking- 
 stove led ; of its having consumed the beams of the floor ; 
 letting down this plow and share upon the heads of the 
 sleeping couple below, stunning, if not killing them ; thus 
 leaving them unresisting subjects to the action of the ele- 
 ment. McBrain had been examined on this point, which 
 we omitted to state in its place, to prevent' repetition. 
 He, and the two other doctors brought forward for the de- 
 fence, had tried to place the plowshare on the skulls, and 
 were of opinion that the injuries might have been in- 
 flicted by that piece of iron. But Mary Monson could not 
 use such an instrument. This was beyond all dispute. If 
 the plowshare inflicted the blow and the testimony on 
 this point was at least entitled to respect then was Mary 
 Monson innocent of any murder committed by direct means. 
 It is true, she was responsible for all her acts ; and if she 
 set fire to the building, she was probably guilty of murder 
 as well as of arson. But would she have done this, and 
 made no provision for her own escape ? The evidence was 
 clear that she was rescued by means of a ladder, and through 
 a window ; and that there were no other means of escape. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 345 
 
 Dunscomb reasoned on these several points with great 
 force and ingenuity. So clear were his statements, so logi- 
 cal his inferences, and so candid his mode of arguing, that 
 he had produced a great effect ere he closed this branch 
 of his subject. It is true, that one far more difficult re- 
 mained to be met ; to answer which he now set about with 
 fear and trembling. 
 
 We allude to the piece of money alleged to have been 
 found in Mary Monson's purse. Dunscomb had very lit- 
 tle difficulty in disposing of the flippant Widow Pope ; but 
 the Burton family gave him more trouble. Nevertheless, 
 it was his duty to endeavor to get rid of them, or at least 
 so far to weaken their testimony as to give his client the 
 benefit of the doubt. There was, in truth, but one mode 
 of doing this. It was to impress on the jury the probabil- 
 ity that the coin had been changed in passing from hand 
 to hand. It is true, it was not easy to suggest any plausi- 
 ble reason why such an act of treachery should have been 
 committed ; but it was a good legal point to show that this 
 piece of money had not, at all times, been absolutely under 
 the eye or within the control of the coroner. If there were 
 a possibility of a change, the fact should and ought to tell 
 in favor of his client. Mrs. Burton had made admission 
 on this point which entitled the prisoner to press^the facts 
 on the minds of the jurors ; and her counsel did not fail so 
 to do, with clearness and energy. After all, this was much 
 the most difficult point of the case ; and it would not admit 
 of a perfectly satisfactory solution. 
 
 The conclusion of .Dunscomb's summing up was manly, 
 touching, even eloquent. He spoke of a lone and defence- 
 less female, surrounded by strangers, being dragged to the 
 bar on charges of such gravity ; pointed to his client, 
 where she sat enthralled by his language, with all the 
 signs of polished refinement on her dress, person, and 
 manners ; delicate, feminine, and beautiful ; and asked if 
 any one, who had the soul and feelings of a man, could 
 believe that such a being had committed the crimes im- 
 puted to Mary Monson. 
 
 The appeal was powerful, and was dwelt on just long 
 enough to give it full and fair effect. It left the bench, 
 the bar, the jury-box, the whole audience, in fact, in tears. 
 The prisoner alone kept an unmoistened eye ; but it was 
 in a face flushed with feeling. Her self-command was 
 almost supernatural. 
 
346 THE WAYS OF 7 'HE HOUR. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 s 
 
 I'll brave her to her face : 
 I'll give my anger its free course against her. 
 Thou shalt see, Phcenix, how I'll break her pride. 
 
 The Distressed Mother. 
 
 THE district attorney was fully impressed with the impor- 
 tance of the duty that had now devolved on him. Although 
 we have daily proofs on all sides of us, of the truth of that 
 remark of Bacon's, "that no man rises to eminence in the 
 State without a mixture of great and mean qualities," this 
 favorite of the people had his good points as well as an- 
 other. He was a humane man; and, contrary to the ex' 
 pectations, and greatly to the disappointment of Williams, 
 he now took on himself the office of summing-up. 
 
 The public functionary commenced in a mild, quiet man- 
 ner, manifesting by the key on which he pitched his voice 
 a natural reluctance to his painful duty ; but he was steady 
 and collected. He opened with a brief summary of the 
 facts. A strange female, of high personal pretensions, had 
 taken lodgings in an humble dwelling. That dwelling con- 
 tained a considerable sum of money. Some counted it by 
 thousands ; all by hundreds. In either case, it was a temp- 
 tation to the covetous and ill-disposed. The lodgings were 
 unsuited to the habits of the guest ; but she endured them 
 for several weeks. A fire occurred, and the house was 
 consumed. The remains of the husband and wife were 
 found, as the jury saw them, with marks of violence on 
 their skulls. A deadly blow had been struck by some one. 
 The bureau containing the money was found locked, but 
 the money itself was missing. One piece of that money 
 was known, and it was traced to the purse of the female 
 lodger. This stranger was arrested ; and, in her mode of 
 living in the jail, in her expenditures of every sort, she 
 exhibited the habits and profusion of one possessed of con- 
 siderable sums. Doubtless many of the reports in circu- 
 lation were false ; exaggerations ever accompanied each 
 statement of any unusual occurrence ; but enough was 
 proved to show that Mary Monson had a considerable 
 amount of money at command. Whence came these funds ? 
 That which was lightly obtained went lightly. The jury 
 were exhorted to reject every influence but that which was 
 
THE WAYS Of THE HOUR. 347 
 
 sustained by the evidence. -All that had been here stated 
 rested on uncontradicted, unresisted testimony. 
 
 There was no desire to weaken the force of the defence. 
 This defence had been ingeniously and powerfully pre- 
 sented ; and to what did it amount ? The direct, unequivo- 
 cal evidence of Mrs. Burton, as to her knowledge of the 
 piece of money, and all that related to it, and this evidence 
 sustained by so much that was known to others, the cor- 
 oner included, was met by a conjecture. This conjecture 
 was accompanied by an insinuation that some might sup- 
 pose reflected on the principal witness; but it was only 
 an insinuation. There were two legal modes of attacking 
 the credibility of a witness. One was by showing habitual 
 mendacity ; the other by demonstrating from the evidence 
 itself that the testimony could not be true. Had either 
 been done in the present instance ? The district attorney 
 thought not. One, and this the most common course, had 
 not even been attempted. Insinuations, rather than just 
 deductions, he was compelled to say, notwithstanding his 
 high respect for the learned counsel opposed to him, had 
 been the course adopted. That counsel had contended tnat 
 the circumstances were not sufficient to justify a verdict 
 of guilty. Of this, the jury were the sole judges. If they 
 believed Mrs. Burton, sustained as she \vas by so much 
 other testimony, they must admit that Dorothy Goodwin's 
 money was found in Mary Monson's purse. This was the 
 turning point of the case. All depended on the construc- 
 tion of this one fact. He left it to the jury, to their good 
 sense, to their consciences. 
 
 On the part of the defence, great stress had been laid 
 on the circumstance tnat Mary Monson was herself res- 
 cued from the flames with some difficulty. But for as- 
 sistance, she would most probably have perished. The 
 district attorney desired to deny nothing that could justly 
 go to prove the prisoner's innocence. The fact was un- 
 questionably as stated. But for assistance, Mary Monson 
 might have perished. But assistance was not wanting ; 
 for strangers were most opportunely tit. hand, and they did 
 this piece of good service. They remained until all was 
 over, and vanished. No one knew them ; whence they 
 came, or whither- they went. Important agents in saving 
 a life, they had gone without their reward, and were not 
 even named in the newspaper accounts of the occurrence- 
 Reporters generally tell more than happens ; in this in- 
 stance, they were mute, 
 
34S THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 As for the danger of the prisoner, it might have hap- 
 pened in a variety of ways that affected neither her guilt 
 nor her innocence. After committing the murders, she may 
 have gone into her room and been unexpectedly inclosed 
 by the flames ; or the whole may have been previously 
 planned, in order to give her the plea of this very danger- 
 ous situation, as a proof of innocence. Such immaterial 
 circumstances were not to overshadow the very material 
 facts on which the prosecution rested. 
 
 Another important question was to be asked by the 
 jury If Mary Monson did not commit those crimes, who 
 did ? It had been suggested that the house might have 
 taken fire by accident, and that the plowshare was the real 
 cause of the death of its owners. If this were so, did the 
 plowshare remove the money ? did the plowshare put the 
 notched piece in Mary Monson's purse ? 
 
 Such is an outline of the manner in which the district at- 
 torney reasoned on the facts. His summing-up made a 
 deep impression ; the moderation of the manner in which 
 he pressed the guilt of the accused, telling strongly 
 against her. Nothing was said of aristocracy, or harps, or 
 manners, or of anything else that did not fairly belong to 
 the subject. A great deal more was said, of course ; but 
 we do not conceive it necessary to advert to it. 
 
 The charge was exceedingly impartial. The judge made 
 a full exposition of all the testimony, pointed out its legit- 
 imate bearing, and dissected its weak points. As for the 
 opinion of McBrain and his associates, the court conceived 
 it entitled to a great deal of consideration. Here were 
 several highly respectable professional men testifying that, 
 in their judgment, both the skeletons were those of fe- 
 males. The German woman was missing. What had be- 
 come of her ? In any case, the disappearance of that 
 woman was very important. She may have committed 
 the crimes, and absconded ; or one of the skeletons may 
 have been hers. It was in evidence that Peter Goodwin 
 and his wife did not always live in the most happy mood ; 
 and he may have laid hands on the money, which was 
 probably his in the eyes of the law, and left the place. 
 He had not been seen since the fire. The jury must take 
 all the facts into consideration, and decide according to 
 their consciences. 
 
 This charge was deemed rather favorable to the accused 
 than otherwise. The humanity of the judge was conspic- 
 uous throughout ; and he leaned quite obviously to Duns- 
 
THE WAYS OF T11K HOUR. 349 
 
 comb's manner of treating the danger of Mary Monson 
 from the flames, and dwelt on the fact that the piece of 
 money was not sufficiently watched to make out an abso- 
 lute case of identity. When he had done, the impression 
 was very general that the prisoner would be acquitted. 
 
 As it was reasonably supposed that a case of this im- 
 portance would detain the jury a considerable time, the 
 court permitted the prisoner to withdraw. She left the 
 place, attended by her two friends ; the latter in tears, 
 while Mary herself was still seemingly unmoved. The 
 thoughtful Mrs. Gott had prepared refreshments for her; 
 and, for the first time since her trial commenced, the fair 
 prisoner ate heartily. 
 
 "I shall owe my triumph, not to money, my dear girls," 
 she said, while at table, " not to friends, nor to a great 
 array of counsel ; but to truth. I did not commit these 
 crimes ; and on the testimony of the State alone, with 
 scarcely any of my own, the jury will have to say as 
 much. No stain will rest on my character, and I can 
 meet my friends with the unclouded brow of innocence. 
 This is a very precious moment to me ; I would not part 
 with it for all the honors that riches and rank can bestow." 
 
 " How strange that you, of all women, my dear mam- 
 ma," said Anna, kissing her cheek, "should be accused of 
 crimes so horrible to obtain a little money ; for this poor 
 Mrs. Goodwin could have had no great sum after all, and 
 you are so rich ! " 
 
 " More is the pity that I have not made a better use of 
 my money. You are to be envied, girls, in having the 
 fortunes of gentlewomen, and in having no more. I do 
 believe it is better for our sex barely to be independent 
 in their respective stations, and not to be rendered rich. 
 Man or woman, money is a dangerous thing, when we 
 come to consider it as a part of our natural existence ; for 
 it tempts us to fancy that money's worth gives rights that 
 nature and reason both deny. I believe I should have been 
 much happier, were I much poorer than I am." 
 
 " But those who are rich are not very likely to rob ! " 
 
 " Certainly not, in the sense that you mean, my dear. 
 Send Marie Moulin on some errand, Anna ; I wish to tell 
 you and Sarah what I think of this fire, and of the deaths 
 for which I am now on trial." 
 
 Anna complied ; and the handsome prisoner, first look- 
 ing cautiously around to make certain she was not over 
 heard, proceeded with her opinion. 
 
350 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. ^ 
 
 11 In the first place, I make no doubt Doctor McBrain 
 is right, and that both the skeletons are those of women. 
 The German woman got to be very intimate with Mrs. 
 Goodwin ; and as the latter and Jaer husband quarrelled 
 daily, and fiercely, I think it probable that she took this 
 woman into her bed, where they perished together. I 
 should think the fire purely accidental, were it not for the 
 missing stocking." 
 
 " That is just what the district attorney said," cried 
 Anna, innocently. " Who, then, can have set the house on 
 fire ? " 
 
 Mary Monson muttered to herself ; and she smiled as 
 if some queer fancies crowded her brain ; but no one was 
 the wiser for her ruminations. These she kept to her- 
 self, and continued : 
 
 "Yes, that missing stocking renders the arson probable. 
 The question is, who did the deed ; I or Mrs. Burton ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Burton ! " exclaimed both the girls, in a breath. 
 "Why, her character is excellent no one has ever sus- 
 pected her ! You cannot suppose that she is the guilty 
 person ! " 
 
 " It is she, or it is I ; which, I will leave you to judge. 
 I was aware that the notch was in the coin ; for I was about 
 to give the other piece to Mrs. Goodwin, but preferred to 
 keep the perfect specimen myself. The notched piece 
 must have been in the stocking until after the fire ; and it 
 was changed by some one while my purse was under ex- 
 amination." 
 
 "And you suppose that Mrs. Burton did it?" 
 
 " I confess to a suspicion to that effect. Who else could 
 or would have done it? I have mentioned this distrust to 
 Mr. Dunscomb, and he cross-examined in reference to this 
 fact ; though nothing very satisfactory was extracted. After 
 my acquittal, steps will be taken to push the inquiry fur- 
 ther." 
 
 Mary Monson continued discussing this subject for quite 
 an hour; her wondering companions putting questions. 
 At the end of that time Mr. Gott appeared to say that the 
 jury had come into court ; and that it was his duty to take 
 the prisoner there to meet them. 
 
 Perhaps Mary Monson never looked more lovely than at 
 that moment. She had dressed herself with great sim- 
 plicity, but with exceeding care ; excitement gave her the 
 richest color ; hope, even delight, was glowing in her eyes ; 
 and her whole form was expanded with the sentiment oi 
 
TJ/E WA YS OF THE HOUR. 351 
 
 triumph. There is no feeling more general than sympathy 
 with success. After the judge's charge, few doubted of 
 the result ; and on every side, as she walked with a light 
 firm step to her chair, the prisoner read kindness, sympa- 
 thy, and exultation. After all that had been said, and all 
 the prejudices that had been awakened, Mary Monson was 
 about to be acquitted ! Even the reporters became a little 
 humanized ; had juster perceptions than common of the 
 rights of their fellow-creatures ; and a more smiling, be- 
 nignant assembly was never collected in that hall. In a 
 few minutes silence was obtained, and the jurors were 
 called. Every man answered to his name, when the pro- 
 found stillness of expectation pervaded the place. 
 
 " Stand up, Mary Monson, and listen to the verdict," 
 said the clerk, not without a little tremor in his voice. 
 ''Gentlemen, what do you say is the prisoner guilty or 
 not guilty ? " 
 
 The foreman arose, stroked down a few scattering gray 
 hairs, then, in a voice barely audible, he pronounced the 
 portentous word " Guilty." Had a bomb suddenly ex- 
 ploded in the room, it could not have produced greater 
 astonishment, and scarcely more consternation. Anna 
 Updyke darted forward, and, as with a single bound, Mary 
 Monson was folded in her arms. 
 
 " No, no ! " cried this warm-hearted girl, totally uncon- 
 scious of the impropriety of her acts ; " she is not guilty. 
 You do not know her. I do. She was my school-mamma. 
 She is a lady, incapable of being guilty of such crimes. 
 No, no, gentlemen, you will think better of this, and alter 
 your verdict perhaps it was a mistake, and you meant to 
 say ' Not guilty ! ' " 
 
 " Who is this young lady ? " asked the judge, in a tremu- 
 lous voice " a relative of the prisoner's ? " 
 
 " No, sir," answered the excited girl, " no relative, but a 
 very close friend. She was my ' school-mamma' once, and 
 I know she is not a person to rob, and murder, and set fire 
 to houses. Her birth, education, character, all place her 
 above it. You will think better of this, gentlemen, and 
 change your verdict. Now, go at once and do it, or you 
 may distress her ! " 
 
 " Does any one know who this young lady is ? " demand- 
 ed his honor, his voice growing more and more tremulous. 
 
 " I am Anna Updyke Doctor McBrain's daughter now, 
 and Uncle Tom's niece," answered Anna, scarce knowing 
 what she said. " But never mind me it is Mary Monson, 
 
352 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 here, who has been tried, and who has so wrongfully been 
 found guilty. She never committed these crimes, I tell 
 you, sir is incapable of committing them had no motive 
 for committing them ; and I beg you will put a stop to 
 these proceedings, before they get so far as to make it dif- 
 ficult to recede. Just tell the jury to alter their verdict. 
 No, no, Mary Monson is no murderess ! She would no 
 more hurt the Goodwins, or touch a particle of their gold, 
 than either of us all. You do not know her, sir. If you 
 did, you would smile at this mistake of the jury, for it is 
 all a cruel mistake. Now do, my dear sir, send them away 
 again, and tell them to be more reasonable." 
 
 " The young lady had better be removed," interposed the 
 judge, wiping his eyes. "Such scenes may be natural, 
 and the court looks on them leniently ; but time is pre- 
 cious, and my duty renders it necessary to interpose my 
 authority to maintain the order of our proceedings. Let 
 some of the ladies remove the young lady ; she is too deli- 
 cate for the touch of a constable but time is precious." 
 
 The judge was not precisely conscious, himself, of what 
 he was saying, though he knew the general drift of his re- 
 marks. The process of blowing his nose interrupted his 
 speech more than once, and Anna was removed by the 
 assistance of Marie Moulin, Sarah Wilmeter, and good 
 Mrs. Gott ; the latter sobbing like a child, while the other 
 two scarce realized the consequences of the momentous 
 word that had just been pronounced. Dunscomb took 
 care that the whole group should quit the building and be 
 removed to the tavern. 
 
 If the bar, and the spectators in general, had been sur- 
 prised at the calmness of exterior maintained by the pris- 
 oner, previously to the verdict, their wonder was sensibly 
 increased by the manner which succeeded it. Mary Mon- 
 son's beauty shone with increasing radiance* as the justice 
 of her country seemed to threaten her existence more and 
 more ; and at the particular moment when she was left 
 alone, by the withdrawal of her female companions, many 
 present fancied that she had increased in stature. Cer- 
 tainly, it was a rare sight to observe the illuminated coun- 
 tenance, the erect mien, and the offended air, with which 
 one of the weaker sex, and one so youthful and charming, 
 met a doom so terrible. Of the jury she took no notice. Her 
 eye was on the judge, who was endeavoring to muster suf- 
 ficient fortitude to pronounce the final decision of the 
 law. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 353 
 
 " Before the court pronounces sentence, Mr. Dunscomb," 
 observed that functionary, " it will cheerfully hear any- 
 thing you may have to offer in behalf of the prisoner, or it 
 will hear the prisoner herself. It is better, on every ac- 
 count, that all my painful duties be discharged at once, in 
 order that the prisoner may turn her attention to the only 
 two sources of mercy that now remain open to her the 
 earthly and the heavenly. My duty, as you well know, 
 cannot now be avoided ; and the sooner it is performed, 
 perhaps, the better for all concerned. It shall be my care 
 to see that the condemned has time to make all her appeals, 
 let them be to the authorities here, or to the more dreaded 
 Power above." 
 
 " I am taken so much by surprise, your honor, at a ver- 
 dict that, to say the least, is given on very doubtful testi- 
 mony, that I hardly know what to urge. As the court, 
 however, is disposed to indulgence, and there will be time 
 to look at the law of the case, as well as to address our 
 petitions and affidavits to the authority at Albany, I shall 
 interpose no objection ; and, as your honor well remarks, 
 since the painful duty must be discharged, it were better, 
 perhaps, that it were discharged now." 
 
 "Prisoner at the bar," resumed the judge, "you have 
 heard the finding of the jury, in your case. A verdict of 
 ' guilty ' has been rendered, and it has become my painful 
 duty to pronounce the awful sentence of the law. If you 
 have anything to say previously to this, the last and most 
 painful of all my duties, the court will give your words a 
 kind and lenient hearing." 
 
 In the midst of a stillness that seemed supernatural, the 
 sweet melodious voice of Mary Monson was heard, <; first 
 gentle, almost inaudible," but gathering strength as she 
 proceeded, until it became clear, distinct, and silvery. 
 There are few things that impart a higher charm than the 
 voice ; and the extraordinary prisoner possessed an organ 
 which, while it was feminine and sweet, had a depth and 
 richness that at once denoted her power in song. On the 
 present occasion it was not even tremulous. 
 
 " I believe I understand you, sir," Mary Monson com- 
 menced. " I have been tried and found guilty of having 
 murdered Peter and Dorothy Goodwin, after having robbed 
 them, and then of setting fire to the house." 
 
 " You have been tried for the murder of Peter Goodwin, 
 only, the indictments for the second murder, and for the 
 arson, not having yet been tried. The court has been 
 
 23 
 
354 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 obliged to separate the cases, lest the law be defeated on 
 mere technicalities. This verdict renders further proceed- 
 ings unnecessary, and the two remaining indictments wiK 
 probably never be traversed." 
 
 " I believe I still understand you, sir ; and I thank you 
 sincerely for the kind manner in which you have com- 
 municated these facts, as well as for the consideration and 
 gentleness you have manifested throughout these proceed- 
 ings. It has been very kind in you, sir ; and whatever 
 may come of this, God will remember and reward you for 
 it." 
 
 " The court will hear you, Mary Monson, if you have 
 anything to say, before sentence be passed." 
 
 " Perhaps I might say and do much to affect your decis- 
 ion, sir," returned the prisoner, leaning her fair brow, for 
 a moment, on her hand, " but there would be little satisfac- 
 tion in it. It was my wish to be acquitted on the testi- 
 mony of the State. I did hope that this jury would not 
 have seen the proofs of guilt, in the evidence that has been 
 brought against me ; and I confess there would be very 
 little satisfaction to me in any other acquittal. As I un- 
 derstand the case, should I be acquitted as respects Peter 
 Goodwin, I must still be tried as respects his wife ; and 
 lastly, for setting fire to the house." 
 
 " You are not acquitted of the murder of Peter Good- 
 win," mildly interposed the judge; "the finding of the 
 court has been just to the contrary." 
 
 " I am aware of this, sir. America has many enemies. 
 I have lived in foreign lands, and know this from near and 
 long observation. There are those, and those, too, who are 
 in power, that would gladly see the great example in pros- 
 perity, peace and order, that this country has hitherto 
 given to the world, beaten down by our own vices, and the 
 mistaken uses to which the people put the blessings of 
 Divine Providence. I do not reverence the justice of my 
 country, as I did ; it is impossible that I should do so. I 
 now see plainly that its agents are not all of the character 
 they should be ; and that, so far from Justice's being blind 
 through her impartiality alone, she is also blind through 
 her ignorance. Why am I found guilty of this act ? On 
 what evidence or even on what probability ? The whole of 
 the proof is connected with that piece of money. Mrs. Bur- 
 ton has testified that Mrs. Goodwin, herself, admitted that I 
 had given her that coin just what I told the coroner, and 
 which I then saw was not believed, for it has been my 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 355 
 
 misfortune to be tried by strangers. Will these gentlemen 
 ask themselves why I have committed the crime of which 
 they have found me guilty ? It could not be for money ; 
 as of that I have, of my own, more than I want, more, per- 
 haps, than it is good for me to be mistress of." 
 
 "Why have not these facts been shown to the jury, at 
 the proper time and in the proper manner, if true ? " de- 
 manded the judge, kindly. " They are material, and might 
 have influenced the verdict." 
 
 The jury was discharged, but not one of them all had 
 left the box. One or two of them now arose, and looks 
 of doubt and indecision began to flicker over their coun- 
 tenances. They had been influenced by one man, a friend 
 and political confidant of Williams, who had led the un- 
 decided to his own opinions. We do not mean to say that 
 this man was perjured, or that he was himself conscious of 
 the extent of the wrong he was doing ; but his mind had 
 been perverted by the serpent-like report, and he had tried 
 the cause under the influence of rumors, which had no 
 foundation in truth. The case was one of honest doubt, as 
 no one will deny ; but instead of giving the accused the 
 benefit of this doubt, as by law and in reason he was bound 
 to do, he had taken a bias altogether from outside influ- 
 ences, and that bias he communicated to others, until by 
 the sheer force of numbers, the few who wavered were 
 driven into a corner, and soon capitulated. Then, there 
 was a morbid satisfaction in the minds of several of the 
 jurors, in running counter to the charge of the judge. 
 This was a species of independence that is grateful to 
 some men, and they are guided by their vanity, when they 
 fancy they are only led by conscience. These malign 
 influences were unknown to themselves ; for not one of 
 the twelve was absolutely corrupt, but neither of them all 
 was qualified by nature, or education, to be a judge, freed 
 from the influence of the bench, in a case affecting a 
 human life. 
 
 Any one in the least observant of what is going on around 
 him, must have had many opportunities of perceiving how 
 strangely juries render their verdicts, and how much the 
 last appear to be opposed to the inferences of the looker- 
 on, as well as to the expressed opinions of the courts. 
 The falling off in the power of the judges over the minds 
 of the jurors, we suppose to be derived from a combination 
 of causes. The tendency of the times is to make men con- 
 fident in their own judgments, and to defer less than for- 
 
356 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 merly to knowledge and experience. Seeing this very 
 general trait, the judges themselves defer to the tendency, 
 manifest less confidence in their station and knowledge 
 and perhaps really feel it ; while the unceasing cry of the 
 infallibility of the common mind, induces the vulgar, or 
 average intellect, to shrink from any collision with that 
 which wears the semblance, even though simulated, of the 
 popular will. In this way is the institution of the jury 
 gradually getting to be perverted, rendering that which is 
 safe as an human tribunal can well be, when under the 
 guidance of the court, as dangerous as ignorance, party, 
 self-will and obstinacy can well make it. 
 
 "I do not know," resumed Mary Monson, "that one is 
 yet obliged, in America, to lay open her account-books, 
 and show her rent-roll, or her bonds and mortgages, in 
 order to avoid the gallows. I have been told that crime 
 must be brought home by unanswerable proof, in order to 
 convict. Who can say that such has been adduced in un- 
 ease ? It has not even been made certain that a man was 
 killed, at all. Most respectable witnesses have testified 
 that they believe those revolting remains of poor humanity, 
 belonged once to women. Nor has it been f shown that 
 any one has been murdered The fire may have been ac- 
 cidental, the deaths a simple consequence of the fire, and 
 no one guilty." 
 
 "You forget, Mary Monson," interposed the judge, 
 mildly, " that the robbery, and the piece of money found 
 in your purse, give a color to the supposition of crime. 
 The jury have doubtless been influenced by these facts, 
 and important facts they are. No one can deny this ; and 
 I think you overlook that feature of your case. If, how- 
 ever, your counsel has any good reason to offer why sen- 
 tence should not how be pronounced, the court will hear 
 it. There is no impatience on the part of justice, which 
 would much rather draw in than stretch forth its arm. 
 Perhaps, Mary Monson, you might do well to leave to your 
 counsel the objections you wish to urge, and let them be 
 presented to us in a form that we can recognize." 
 
 " I see no great use in deferring the sentence," Duns- 
 comb remarked, quietly enough for the circumstances. 
 " It must be pronounced ; and any question of law, should 
 one occur to my mind, though I confess none does at pres- 
 ent, can as well be raised after this ceremony as before." 
 
 " I am disposed to wait, if a good reason can be urged 
 for the delay. I will acknowledge that the case is one in- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 357 
 
 volved in a great deal of doubt and uncertainty, and am 
 much inclined to do all the law will sanction. Still, I leave 
 you to decide on your own course." 
 
 " In my judgment, may it please your honor, we shall 
 have to go to the executive, and it were, perhaps, better to 
 get all the most revolting parts of the case over, while the 
 accused 
 
 " Convicted, Mr. Dunscomb it is a distinction painful 
 to make, but one that cannot now be avoided." 
 
 " I beg pardon of the court convicted." 
 
 "Yes," said Mary Monson, solemnly, "I am convicted, 
 and of the revolting crime of murder. All my hopes of a 
 triumphant acquittal are blasted ; and, whatever may be 
 the termination of this extraordinary affair, a dark spot 
 will always rest on my name. Sir, I am as innocent of this 
 crime as the youngest child in your county. I may have 
 be'en wilful, perverse, ill-judging, unwise, and have a hun- 
 dred other failings ; but neither Peter nor Dorothy Good- 
 win did I ever harm. I had not been long in the house 
 before I discovered that the old couple were not happy 
 together. They quarrelled often, and bitterly. The wife 
 was managing, dictatorial, and sordidly covetous, while he 
 used every shilling he could obtain, for the purchase of 
 liquors. His mind was affected by his debauches, and he 
 drivelled. In this state, he came to me for sympathy and 
 advice. There were passages in my own past life, short as 
 it has been, which disposed me to feel for one who was not 
 happy in the married state. It is no matter what my own 
 experience has been ; I had sympathy for that poor man. 
 So far from wishing to do him harm, I desired to do him 
 good. I Advised him to quit the house, and live apart 
 from his wife, for a time, at least ; and this he consented 
 to do, if I would furnish him with the means. Those means 
 I promised ; and, that he might not suffer, being of only 
 feeble intellect, and in order to keep him from liquor, I 
 had directed two of my agents to come to the house early 
 in the morning of the very day that the fire happened, that 
 they might convey Peter Goodwin to another residence, 
 where he would be secret and safe, until his wife might 
 repent of her treatment of him. It was fortunate for me 
 that I had done this. Those two men, servants of my own, 
 in the dress of countrymen, were the instruments of saving 
 my life ; without their aid, I should have perished in the 
 flames. What they did, and how they did it, it would be 
 premature now tc say. Alas ! alas ! I have not been ac- 
 
*.?8 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 quitted as I desired to be, and a dark shadow will forevei 
 rest on my name ! " 
 
 For the first time, a doubt of the sanity of the prisoner 
 crossed the mind of the judge. It was not so much the 
 incoherence of her language, as her eye, the flushed cheek, 
 and a certain air of stealthy cunning, that awakened this 
 distrust. Nevertheless, Mary Monson's manner was sin- 
 cere, her language chosen and perfectly proper, and her 
 explanations not without their force. There was some- 
 thing so strange, however, in a portion of her statements ; 
 so irreconcilable with a sound discretion, that, taken with 
 the little which had come to light concerning this singular 
 woman's past life, the doubt arose. 
 
 " Perhaps it were better, Mr. District Attorney," the 
 judge observed, "if we delay the sentence." 
 
 "As your honor may think fit. The State is not over- 
 anxious for life." 
 
 " What say you, Mr. Dunscomb shall there be delay, 
 or shall I sentence ? " 
 
 "As the sentence must come, the sooner it is over, the 
 better. We have no ground on which to carry up the case, 
 the jury being judges of the facts. Our principal hope 
 must be in the discretion of the governor." 
 
 " Mary Monson," continued the judge, evidently treating 
 the affair as purely a matter of form, "you have been tried 
 for feloniously depriving Peter Goodwin of his life " 
 
 "I never did it," interrupted the prisoner, in a voice so 
 low as to be melodious, yet so clear as to be audible as the 
 sound of a clarion. " These men have been influenced by 
 the rumors they have heard, and were not fit to act as my 
 judges. Men should have minds superior to mere reports 
 to sit in that box." 
 
 "My duty is to pronounce the sentence of the law. After 
 a fair trial, and, so far as it appears to us, by an impartial 
 jury, you have been found guilty. For reasons that are of 
 sufficient weight to my mind, I shall not dwell on the 
 character of the awful change you will have to undergo, 
 should this decree be put in force, but confine myself 
 simply to the duty of pronouncing the sentence of the 
 law, which is this : that you be carried back to the jail, 
 and there be guarded, until Friday, the sixth day of Sep- 
 tember next, when between the hours of twelve and two 
 P.M., you be carried to the place of execution, and hanged 
 by the neck, until you are dead and God have mercy on 
 your soul ! " 
 
THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 359 
 
 A shudder passed through the audience, at hearing 
 language like this applied to a person of Mary Mon- 
 son's appearance, education and sex. This feeling might 
 have manifested itself more strongly, had not Mrs. Horton 
 attracted attention to herself, by forcing her way through 
 the crowd, until she stood within the bar. Here the good 
 woman, accustomed to bandy words with her guests, did 
 not scruple to make her presence known to the court, by 
 calling out 
 
 " They tell me, your honor, that Mary Monson has just 
 been found guilty of the murder of Peter Goodwin ?" 
 
 " It is so, my good woman but that case is ended. Mr. 
 Sheriff, remove the prisoner time is precious 
 
 " Yes, your honor, and so is eternity. Mary Monson is 
 no more guilty of taking the life of Peter Goodwin than I 
 am guilty. I've always said some great disgrace would be- 
 fall our juries, one of these days, and now my prophecy 
 will come true. Dukes is disgraced. Constable, let that 
 poor man come within the bar." 
 
 The drivelling creature who entered the room of Mc- 
 Brain tottered forward, when twenty voices cried aloud 
 the name of "Peter Goodwin'' Every word that Mary 
 Monson had stated was true ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Now Marcia, now call up to thy assistance, 
 Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind ; 
 Thou can'st not put it to a greater trial. ADDISON. 
 
 BENCH, bar, jury, witnesses and audience, were all as- 
 tounded. The trial had been carried on in the most per- 
 fect good faith ; and not a human being but the few who 
 had felt the force of McBrain's testimony, doubted of the 
 death of the individual who now appeared alive, if not 
 well, in open court. The reader can better imagine than 
 we can describe, the effects of a resurrection so entirely 
 unexpected. 
 
 When the confusion naturally produced by such a scene 
 had a little subsided ; when all had actually seen, and many 
 had actually felt, the supposed murdered man, as if to as- 
 sure themselves of his being really in the flesh, order was 
 restored ; and the court and bar began to reflect on the 
 course next to be pursued. 
 
360 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 "I suppose, Mr. District Attorney," observed his honor, 
 " there is no mistake in the person of this individual ; but 
 it were better if we had an affidavit or two. Will you walk 
 this way, sir ? " 
 
 A long, private conference, now took place between the 
 public prosecutor and the judge. Each expressed his as- 
 tonishment at the result, as well as some indignation at 
 the deception which had been practised on the court. 
 This indignation was a little mollified by the impression, 
 now common to both, that Mary Monson was a person not 
 exactly in her right mind. There was so much deception 
 practised among persons accused of crimes, however, and 
 in connection with this natural infirmity, that public func- 
 tionaries like themselves were necessarily very cautious in 
 admitting the plea. The most offensive part of the whole 
 affair was the discredit brought on the justice of Dukes ! 
 It was not in nature for these individuals to be insensible 
 to the sort of disgrace the reappearance of Peter Goodwin 
 entailed on the county and circuit ; and there was a very 
 natural desire to wipe off the stain. The conference lasted 
 until the affidavits to establish the facts connected with 
 Goodwin's case were ready. 
 
 " Had these affidavits been presented earlier," said his 
 honor, as soon as the papers were read, " sentence would 
 not have been pronounced. The case is novel, and I shall 
 want a little time to reflect on the course I am to take. 
 The sentence must be gotten rid of by some means or 
 other ; and it shall be my care to see it done. I hope, 
 brother Dunscomb, the counsel for the accused have not 
 been parties to this deception ? " 
 
 " I am as much taken by surprise as your honor can 
 possibly be," returned the party addressed, with earnest- 
 ness, " not having had the most remote suspicion of the 
 existence of the man said to have been murdered ; else 
 would all the late proceedings have been spared. As to 
 the course to be taken next, I would respectfully suggest 
 that the Code be examined. It is an omnium gatherum ; 
 and must contain something to tell us how to undo all we 
 have done." 
 
 " It were better for all parties had there so been. There 
 are still two indictments pending over Mary Monson : one 
 for the arson, and the other for the murder of Dorothy 
 Goodwin. Mr. District Attorney feels the necessity of 
 trying these cases, or one of them at least, in vindication 
 of the justice of the State and county ; and I am inclined 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 361 
 
 to think that, under all the circumstances, this course 
 should be taken. I trust we shall have no more sur- 
 prises, and that Dorothy Goodwin will be brought forward 
 at once, if still living time is precious." 
 
 " Dorothy Goodwin is dead;" said Mary Monson, sol- 
 emnly, " Poor woman ! she was called away suddenly, 
 and in her sins. Little fear of her ever coming here to 
 flout your justice." 
 
 " It may be well to caution your client, Mr. Dunscomb, 
 against hasty and indiscreet admissions. Let the accused 
 be arraigned, and a jury be impanelled. Which case do 
 you choose to move on, Mr. District Attorney ? " 
 
 Dunscomb saw that his honor was offended, and much 
 in earnest. He was offended himself, and half disposed 
 to throw up his brief ; but he felt for the situation of a 
 lovely and defenceless woman. Then his doubts touching 
 his client's sanity began to take the character of certainty ; 
 and he saw how odious it would be to abandon one so 
 afflicted in her emergency. He hinted his suspicion to 
 the court ; but was told that the fact, under all the cir- 
 cumstances of the case, was one properly for the jury. 
 After reflection, the advocate determined not to desert his 
 trust. 
 
 We pass over the preliminary proceedings. A jury was 
 impanelled with very little difficulty ; not a challenge hav- 
 ing been made. It was composed, in part, of those who 
 had been in the box on the late occasion ; and in part of 
 new men. There was an air of earnestness and business 
 about them all, that Timms did not like, but it was too late 
 to raise objections. To own the truth, the senior counsel 
 cared much less than before for the result ; feeling satisfied 
 that his contemplated application at Albany would meet 
 w r ith consideration. It is true, Mary Monson was no anti- 
 renter. She could not come forward with her demand for 
 mercy with hands dyed in the blood of an officer of that 
 public which lives under the deception of fancying it rules 
 the land ; murderers who added to their crimes the hateful 
 and pestilent fraud of attempting to cloak robbery in the 
 garb of righteous liberty ; nor could she come sustained 
 by numbers around the ballot-box, and bully the executive 
 into acts which the reason and conscience of every honest 
 man condemn ; but Dunscomb believed that she might 
 come with the plea of a being visited by the power of her 
 Creator, in constituting her as she was, a woman not mor- 
 ally accountable for her acts. 
 
362 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 All the leading facts, as shown on the former trial, were 
 shown on this. When the country practitioners were 
 called on to give their opinions concerning the effect of 
 the blow, they necessarily became subject to the cross- 
 examination of the counsel- for the prisoner, who did not 
 spare them. 
 
 "Were you examined, sir, in the late trial of Mary Mon- 
 son, for the murder of Peter Goodwin ? " demanded Duns- 
 comb of the first of these modern Galens who was put on 
 the stand. 
 
 " I was, sir." 
 
 "What did you say on that occasion " looking at his 
 notes of the other trial " touching the sex of the per 
 sons to whom those skeletons were thought to have be- 
 longed ? " 
 
 " I said I believed not knew, but believed, they were the 
 remains of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin." 
 
 " Did you not use stronger language than that ? " 
 
 " Not that I remember. I may have done so ; but I do 
 not remember it." 
 
 " Did you not say you had ' no doubt ' that those were the 
 remains of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin ?" 
 
 "I may have said as much as that. Now you mention 
 the words, I believe I did." 
 
 " Do you think so now ?" 
 
 " Certainly not. I cannot think so, after what I have 
 seen." 
 
 " Do you know Peter Goodwin, personally ? " 
 
 " Very well. I have practised many years in this neigh- 
 borhood." 
 
 " Whom, then, do you say that this unfortunate man 
 here, whom we see alive, though a driveller, really is ? " 
 
 " Peter Goodwin he who was thought to have been 
 murdered. We are all liable to mistakes." 
 
 "You have testified in chief that, in your judgment, the 
 two persons, of whom we have the remains here in court, 
 were stunned at least, if not absolutely killed, by the blow 
 that you think fractured each of their skulls. Now, I 
 would ask if you think the prisoner at the bar possesses 
 the physical force necessary to enable her to strike such a 
 blow ?" 
 
 " That would depend on the instrument she used. A 
 human skull may be fractured easily enough by a moder- 
 ate blow struck by a heavy instrument." 
 
 "What sort of instrument, for instance ?" 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 363 
 
 " A sword a bar of iron or anything that has weight 
 and force." 
 
 " Do you believe those fractures were given by the same 
 blow?" 
 
 "I do. By one and the same blow." 
 
 "Do you think Mary Monson possesses the strength 
 necessary to cause those two fractures at a single blow ? " 
 
 Witness had no opinion on the subject. 
 
 " Are the fractures material ? " 
 
 " Certainly and must have required a heavy blow to 
 produce them." 
 
 This was all that could be got from either of the wit- 
 nesses on that material point. As respected McBrain, he 
 was subsequently examined in reference to the same facts. 
 Dunscomb made good use of this witness, who now com- 
 manded the respect of all present. In the first place he 
 was adroitly offered to the jury, as the professional man 
 who had, from the first, given it as his opinion that both 
 the skeletons were those of females ; and this in the face 
 of all the collected wisdom of Dukes County ; an opinion 
 that was now rendered so probable as almost to amount to 
 certainty. He (Dunscomb) believed most firmly that the 
 remains were those of Dorothy Goodwin and the German 
 woman who was missing. 
 
 "Have you examined these skeletons, Dr. McBrain?" 
 Dunscomb asked. 
 
 " I have, sir ; and carefully, since the late trial." 
 
 " How do you think the persons to whom they belonged 
 came to their deaths ? " 
 
 " I find fractures in the skulls of both. If they lie now 
 as they did when the remains were found (a fact that had 
 been proved by several witnesses), I am of the opinion 
 that a single blow inflicted the injuries on both ; it may be 
 that blow was not sufficient to produce death ; but it must 
 have produced a stupor, or insensibility, which would pre- 
 vent the parties from seeking refuge against the effects of 
 the flames " 
 
 " Is the learned witness brought to sum up the cause ?" 
 demanded Williams, with one of those demoniacal sneers 
 of his, by means of which he sometimes carried off a ver- 
 dict. " I wish to know, that I may take notes of the course 
 of this argument." 
 
 McBrain drew back, shocked and offended. He was 
 naturally diffident, as his friend used to admit, in everything 
 but wives : and as regarded them " he had the impudence 
 
364 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 of the devil. Ned would never give up the trade until he 
 had married a dozen, if the law would see him out in it. 
 He ought to have been a follower of the great Mohammed, 
 who made it a point to take a new wife at almost every 
 new moon ! " The judge did not like this sneer of Williams ; 
 and this so much the less, because, in common with all 
 around him, he had imbibed a profound respect for the 
 knowledge of the witness. It is true, he was very much 
 afraid of the man, and dreaded his influence at the polls ; 
 but he really had too much conscience to submit to every- 
 thing. A judge may yet have a conscience if the code 
 will let him. 
 
 "This is very irregular, Mr. Williams, not to say im- 
 proper, " his honor mildly remarked. " The witness has said 
 no more than he has a right to say ; and the court must 
 see him protected. Proceed with your testimony, sir." 
 
 " I have little more to say, if it please the court," re- 
 sumed McBrain, too much dashed to regain his self-posses- 
 sion in a moment. As this was all Williams wanted, he 
 permitted him to proceed in his own way ; and all the 
 doctor had to say was soon told to the jury. The counsel 
 for the prosecution manifested great tact in not cross- 
 examining the witness at all. In a subsequent stage of 
 the trial, Williams had the impudence to insinuate to the 
 jury that they did not attach sufficient importance to his 
 ^testimony, to subject him to this very customary ordeal. 
 
 But the turning point of this trial, as it had been that of 
 the case which preceded it, was the evidence connected 
 with the piece of money. As the existence of the notch 
 was now generally known, it was easy enough to recognize 
 the coin that had been found in Mary Monson's purse ; thus 
 depriving the accused of one of her simplest and best 
 means of demonstrating the ignorance of the witnesses. 
 The notch, however, was Mrs. Burton's great mark, under 
 favor of which her very material testimony was now given 
 as it had been before. 
 
 Dunscomb was on the point of commencing the cross- 
 examination, when the clear melodious voice of Mary Mon- 
 son herself was heard for the first time since the commence- 
 ment of the trial. 
 
 " Is it permitted to me to question this witness?" demanded 
 the prisoner. 
 
 " Certainly," answered the judge. "It is the right of 
 every one who is arraigned by the country. Ask any 
 question that you please." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE FT OUR. 365 
 
 This was a somewhat liberal decision as to the right of 
 cross-examining, and the accused put on it a construction 
 almost as broad as the privilege. As for the witness, it was 
 very apparent she had little taste for the scrutiny that she 
 probably foresaw she was about to undergo ; and her 
 countenance, attitude, and answers, each and all betrayed 
 how much distaste she had for the whole procedure. As 
 permission was obtained, however, the prisoner did not 
 hesitate to proceed. 
 
 " Mrs. Burton," said Mary Monson, adopting, as well as 
 she knew how, the manner of the gentlemen of the bar, 
 "I wish you to 'tell the court and jury when you first saw 
 the notched piece of money ? " 
 
 "When I first saw it? I saw it first, when Aunt Dolly 
 first showed it to me," answered the witness. 
 
 Most persons would have been dissatisfied with this an- 
 swer, and would probably have caused the question to be 
 repeated in some other form ; but Mary Monson seemed 
 content, and went on putting her questions, just as if she 
 had obtained answers to meet her views. 
 
 " Did you examine it well ? " 
 
 "As well as I desired to. There was nothing to prevent 
 it." 
 
 " Did you know it immediately, on seeing it in my 
 purse ?" 
 
 " Certainly as soon as I saw the notch." 
 
 " Did Mrs. Goodwin point out the notch to you, or did 
 you point out the notch to her ? " 
 
 " She pointed it out to me ; she feared that the notch 
 might lessen the value of the coin." 
 
 "All this I have heard before ; but I now ask you, Mrs. 
 Burton, in the name of that Being whose eye is every- 
 where, did you not yourself put that piece of money in 
 my purse, when it was passing from hand to hand, and 
 take out of it the piece without a notch ? Answer me, as 
 you have a regard for your soul?" 
 
 Such a question was altogether out of the rules regulat- 
 ing the queries that may be put to witnesses, an answer 
 in the affirmative going directly to criminate the respond- 
 ent ; but the earnest manner, solemn tones, and, we may 
 add, illuminated countenance of Mary Monson, so far im- 
 posed on the woman, that she quite lost sight of her rights, 
 if she ever knew them. What is much more remarkable, 
 neither of the counsel for the prosecution interposed an 
 objection. The district attorney was willing that justice 
 
366 rHE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 should have its way ; and Williams began to think it might 
 be prudent to manifest less anxiety for a conviction than 
 he had done in the case in which the party murdered had 
 been resuscitated. The judg'e was entranced by the pris- 
 oner's manner. 
 
 " I believe I have as much regard for my soul as any 
 of the neighbors have for theirs," answered Mrs. Burton, 
 sullenly. 
 
 " Let us learn that in your reply. Did you, or did you 
 not, change those pieces of gold?" 
 
 " Perhaps I might. It's hard to say, when so much was 
 said and done." 
 
 " How came you with the other piece, with which to 
 make the exchange ? Answer, Sarah Burton, as you fear 
 God?" 
 
 The witness trembled like an aspen-leaf. So remarkable 
 was the scene, that no one thought of interfering ; but the 
 judge, the bar, and the jury, seemed equally willing to 
 leave the two females to themselves, as the most efficient 
 means of extorting the truth. Mary Monson's color 
 heightened ; her mien and countenance grew, as it were, 
 with the occasion ; while Sarah Burton's became paler 
 and paler, as each question was put, and the reply pressed. 
 
 " I can have money, I hope, as well as other folks," 
 answered the witness. 
 
 " That is no reply. How came you with the piece of 
 gold that is notched, that you could exchange it for the 
 piece which was not notched, and which was the one really 
 found in my purse ? Answer me that, Sarah Burton ; 
 here, where we both stand in the presence of our great 
 Creator ? " 
 
 " There's no need of your pressing a body so awfully I 
 don't believe it's law." 
 
 " I repeat the question or I will answer it for you. 
 When you fired the house " 
 
 The woman screamed, and raised her hands in natural 
 horror. 
 
 " I never set the house on fire," she cried. " It took 
 from the stove-pipe in the garret, where it had taken twice 
 before." 
 
 " How can you know that, unless you saw it ? How see 
 it, unless present ? " 
 
 " I was not there, and did not see it ; but I know the 
 garret had caught twice before from that cook-stove pipe. 
 Aunt Dolly was very wrong to neglect it as she did." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 365 
 
 " And the blows on the head who struck those blows, 
 Sarah Burton ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? I wasn't there no one but a fool 
 could believe y0u have strength to do it." 
 
 " How, then, was it done ? Speak I see it in your 
 mind?" 
 
 " I saw the plowshare lying on the heads of the skele- 
 tons ; and I saw Moses Steen throw it off, in the confusion 
 of first raking the embers. Moses will be likely to remem- 
 ber it, if sent for, and questioned." 
 
 Here was a most important fact elicited under the im- 
 pulse of self-justification ; and a corresponding expression 
 of surprise passed in a murmur, through the audience. The 
 eye of Mary Monson kindled with triumph ; and she con- 
 tinued with renewed powers of command over the will and 
 conscience of the witness. 
 
 " This is well, Sarah Burton it is right, and what you 
 ought to say. You think that the fire was accidental, and 
 that the fractured skulls came from the fall of the plow?" 
 
 " I do. I know that the plow stood in the garret, di- 
 rectly over the bed, and the stove-pipe passed quite near 
 it. There was an elbow in that pipe, and the danger was 
 at that elbow." 
 
 " This is well ; and the eye above looks on you with less 
 displeasure, Sarah Burton " as this was said, the witness 
 turned her eyes timidly upward, as if to assure herself of 
 the fact. " Speak holy truth, and it will soon become be- 
 nignant and forgiving. Now tell me how you came by 
 the stocking and its contents ?" 
 
 " The stocking ! " said the witness, starting, and turning 
 white as a sheet. "Who says I took the stocking ?" 
 
 " I do. I know it by that secret intelligence which has 
 been given me to discover truth. Speak, then, Sarah, and 
 tell the court and jury the truth, the whole truth, and 
 nothing but the truth." 
 
 " Nobody saw me take it ; and nobody can say I took it." 
 
 " Therein you are mistaken. You were seen to take it. 
 I saw it, for one ; but there was another who saw it, with 
 its motive, whose eye is ever on us. Speak, then, Sarah, 
 and keep nothing back." 
 
 " I meant no harm, if I did take it. There was so many 
 folks about, I was afraid that some stranger might lay 
 hands on it. That's all." 
 
 " You were seen to unlock the drawers, as you stood alone 
 near the bureau, in the confusion <a.nd excitement of the 
 
368 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 finding of the skeletons. You did it stealthily, Sarah Bur- 
 ton." 
 
 " I was afraid some one might snatch the stocking from 
 me. I always meant to give it up, as soon as the law said 
 to whom it belongs. Davis wants it, but I'm not sure it is 
 his." 
 
 " What key did you use ? Keep nothing back." 
 
 " One of my own. My keys unlocked many of Aunt 
 Dolly's drawers. She knew it, and never found any fault 
 with it. Why should she ? Her keys unlocked mine! " 
 
 "Another word where is that stocking, and where are 
 its contents?" 
 
 "Both are safe in the third drawer of my own bureau, 
 and here is the key," taking one from her bosom. " I put 
 them there for security, as no one opens that drawer but 
 myself." 
 
 Timms took the key from the unresisting hand of the 
 woman, and followed by Williams, Davis, and one or two 
 more, he left the court-house. At that instant, Sarah 
 Burton fainted. In the confusion of removing her into 
 another room, Mary Monson resumed her seat. 
 
 " Mr. District Attorney, it can hardly be your intention 
 to press this indictment any further ?" observed the judge, 
 wiping his eyes, and much delighted with the unexpected 
 termination of the affair. 
 
 The functionary addressed was glad enough to be rid 
 of his unwelcome office, and at once signified his willing- 
 ness to enter a nolle prosequi, by an application to the bench, 
 in the case of the arson, and to submit to an acquittal in 
 that now being traversed. After a brief charge from the 
 judge, the jury gave a verdict of acquittal, without leaving 
 the box ; and just as this was done, Timms and his com- 
 panions returned, bringing with them the much-talked of 
 stocking. 
 
 It required months completely to elucidate the whole 
 affair ; but so much is already known, and this part of our 
 subject being virtually disposed of, we may as well make 
 a short summary of the facts, as they were already in 
 proof, or as they have since come to light. 
 
 The fire was accidental, as has been recently ascertained 
 by circumstances it is unnecessary to relate. Goodwin had 
 left his wife, the night before the accident, and she had 
 taken the German woman to sleep with her. As the gar- 
 ret floor above this pair was consumed, the plow fell, its 
 share inflicting the blow which stunned them, if it did not 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 369 
 
 inflict even a greater injury. That part of the house was 
 first consumed, and the skeletons were found, as has been 
 related, side by side. In the confusion of the scene, Sarah 
 Burton had little difficulty in opening the drawer, and re- 
 moving the stocking. She fancied herself unseen ; but 
 Mary Monson observed the movement, though she had 
 then no idea what was abstracted. The unfortunate de- 
 linquent maintains that her intention, at the time, was 
 good ; or. that her sole object was to secure the gold ; but 
 is obliged to confess that the possession of the treasure 
 gradually excited her cupidity, until she began to hope 
 that this hoard might eventually become her own. The 
 guilty soonest suspect guilt. As to " the pure, all things 
 are pure," so it is with the innocent, who are the least in- 
 clined to suspect others of wicked actions. Thus was it 
 with Mrs. Burton. In the commission of a great wrong 
 herself, she had little difficulty in supposing that Mary 
 Monson was the sort of person that rumor made her out 
 to be. She saw no great harm, then, in giving a shove to 
 the descending culprit. When looking into the stocking, 
 she had seen, and put in her own pocket, the notched 
 piece, as a curiosity, there being nothing more unusual in 
 the guilty thus incurring unnecessary risks, than there is 
 in the moth's temerity in fluttering around the candle. 
 When the purse of Mary Monson was examined, as usually 
 happens on such occasions, we had almost said as always 
 happens, in the management of cases that are subsequent- 
 ly to form a part of the justice of the land, much less at- 
 tention was paid to the care of that purse than ought to 
 have been bestowed on it Profiting by the neglect, Sarah 
 Burton exchanged the notched coin for the perfect piece, 
 unobserved, as she again fancied ; but once more the watch- 
 ful eye of Mary Monson was on her. The first time the 
 woman was observed by the last, it was accidentally ; but 
 suspicion once aroused, it was natural enough to keep a 
 lookout on the suspected party. The act was seen, and at 
 the moment that the accused thought happy, the circum- 
 stance was brought to bear on the trial. Sarah Burton 
 maintains that, at first, her sole intention was to exchange 
 the imperfect for the perfect coin ; and that she was in- 
 duced to swear to the piece subsequently produced, as that 
 found on Mary Monson's person, as a literal fact, ignorant 
 of what might be its consequences. Though the devil 
 doubtless leads us on, step by step, deeper and deeper, 
 into crime and sin, it is probable that, in this particular, the 
 24 
 
370 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 guilty woman applied a flattering unction to her conscience, 
 that the truth would have destroyed. 
 
 Great was the wonder, and numberless were the para- 
 graphs that this unexpected issue of the "great Biberry 
 murders " produced. As respects the last, anything that 
 will fill a column is a god-send, and the falsehood has even 
 a value that is not to be found in the truth, as its contra- 
 diction will help along quite as much as the original state- 
 ments. If the public could only be brought to see what a 
 different thing publicity becomes in the hands of those who 
 turn it to profit^ from what it is thought to be by those who 
 fancy it is merely a mode of circulating facts, a great step 
 toward a much-needed reformation would be taken, by con- 
 fining the last within their natural limits. 
 
 Mary Monson's name passed from one end of the Union 
 to the other, and thousands heard and read of this extra- 
 ordinary woman, who never had the smallest clew to her 
 real character or subsequent history. How few reflected 
 on the defects of the system that condemned her to the 
 gallows on insufficient testimony ; or, under another phase 
 of prejudice, might have acquitted her when guilty ! The 
 random decisions of the juries, usually well-meaning, but 
 so rarely discriminating, or as intelligent as they ought to 
 be, attract very little attention beyond the bar ; and even 
 the members of that often strike a balance in error, with 
 which they learn to be content ; gaining in one cause as 
 much as they lose in another. 
 
 There was a strong disposition in the people assembled 
 at Biberry, on the occasion of the trial, to make a public 
 spectacle of Mary Monson. The right to do this, with all 
 things in heaven and earth, seems to belong to " repub- 
 lican simplicity," which is beginning to rule the land with 
 a rod of iron. Unfortunately for this feeling, the subject 
 of momentary sympathy was not a person likely to allow 
 such a license. She did not believe, because she had en- 
 dured one set of atrocious wrongs, that she was bound to 
 submit to as many more as gaping vulgarity might see fit 
 to inflict. She sought the protection of good Mrs. Gott 
 and her jail, some forms being necessary before the sen- 
 tence of death could be legally gotten rid of. In vain were 
 the windows again crowded, with the virtuous wish of see- 
 ing how Mary Monson looked, now she was acquitted, just 
 as they had been previously thronged in order to ascertain 
 how she looked when there was a chance of her being con- 
 demned to the gallows. The most extraordinary part of 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 371 
 
 che affair, was the circumstance that the harp became popu- 
 lar ; the very sentiment, act, or thing that, in one condition 
 of the common mind, is about to be " cut down and cast 
 into the fire," becoming, in another, all that is noble, com- 
 mendable, or desirable. The crowd about the windows of 
 the jail, for the first few hours after the acquittal, was 
 dying to hear the prisoner sing and play, and would gladly 
 have tolerated the harp and a " foreign tongue " to be thus 
 gratified. 
 
 But Mary Monson was safe from all intrusion, under the 
 locks of the delighted Mrs. Gott. This kind-hearted per- 
 son kissed her prisoner, over and over again, when she ad- 
 mitted her within the gallery, and then she went outside, 
 and assured several of the more respectable persons in the 
 crowd how thoroughly she had been persuaded, from the 
 first, of the innocence of her friend. The circumstances 
 of this important trial rendered Mrs. Gott a very distin- 
 guished person herself, in that crowd, and never was a 
 woman happier than she while delivering her sentiments 
 on the recent events. 
 
 "It's altogether the most foolish trial we have ever had 
 in Dukes, though they tell me foolish trials are getting to 
 be only too common," said the kind-hearted wife of the 
 sheriff, addressing half a dozen of the more respectable of 
 the crowd. " It gave me a big fright, I will own. When 
 Gott was elected sheriff, I did hope he would escape all 
 executions but debt executions. The more he has of them, 
 the better. It's bad enough to escort thieves to Sing Sing ; 
 but the gallows is a poor trade for a decent man to meddle 
 with. Then, to have the very first sentence, one against 
 Mary Monson, who is as much above such a punishment as 
 virtue is above vice. When 1 heard those dreadful words, 
 I felt as if a cord was round my own neck. But I had 
 faith to the last ; Mary has always told me that she should 
 be acquitted, and here it has all come true, at last." 
 
 " Do you know, Mrs. Gott," said one of her friends, "it 
 is reported that this woman or lady, I suppose one must 
 now call her has been in the habit of quitting the jail 
 whenever she saw fit?" 
 
 " Hu-s-h, neighbor Brookes ; there is no need of alarm- 
 ing the county ! I believe you are right ; though it was 
 all done without my knowledge, or it never would have 
 been permitted. It only shows the power of money. The 
 locks are as good as any in the State ; yet Mary certainly 
 did find means, unbeknown to me, to open them. It can't 
 
372 THE WA YS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 be called breaking jail, since she always came back ! 1 
 had a good fright the first time I heard of it, but use 
 reconciles us to all things. I never let Gott into the se- 
 cret, though he's responsible, as he calls it, for all his pris- 
 oners." 
 
 " Well, when a matter turns out happily, it does no good 
 to be harping on it always." 
 
 Mrs. Gott assented, and in this case, as in a hundred 
 others, the end was made to justify the means. But Mary 
 Monson was felt to be an exception to all rules, and there 
 was no longer any disposition to cavil at any of her pro- 
 ceedings. Her innocence had been established so very tri- 
 umphantly, that every person regarded her vagaries and 
 strange conduct with indulgence. 
 
 At that very moment, when Mrs. Gott was haranguing 
 her neighbors at the door of the jail, Dunscomb was clos- 
 eted with Michael Millington at the inn ; the young man 
 having returned at hot-speed only as the court adjourned. 
 He had been successful, notwithstanding his original dis- 
 appointment, and had ascertained all about the hitherto 
 mysterious prisoner of the Biberry jail. Mary Monson was, 
 as Dunscomb suspected, Mildred Millington by birth 
 Mme. de Larocheforte by marriage and she was the grand- 
 daughter of the very woman to whom he had been be- 
 trothed in youth. Her insanity was not distinctly recog- 
 nized, perhaps could not have been legally established, 
 though it was strongly suspected by many who knew her 
 intimately, and was a source of great uneasiness with all 
 who felt an interest in her welfare. Her marriage was un- 
 happy, and it was supposed she had taken up her abode in 
 the cottage of the Goodwins to avoid her husband. The 
 command of money gave her a power to do very much as 
 she pleased, and, though the breath of calumny had never 
 yet blown its withering blast on her name, she erred in 
 many things that are duties as grave as that of being 
 chaste. The laws came in aid of her whims and ca- 
 prices. There is no mode by which an errant wife can be 
 made to perform her duties in boldly experimenting New 
 York, though she can claim a support and protection from 
 her husband. The " cup-and-saucer " law comes in aid of 
 this power, and the men who cannot keep their wives in 
 the chains of Hymen in virtue of the affections, may just 
 as well submit, with a grace, to be the victims of an ill- 
 judging and most treacherous regard for the rights of what 
 are called the weaker sex. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 373 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer, 
 Imaginary ills, and fancied tortures? Cato. 
 
 THE scene must now be shifted to Rattletrap. Biberry 
 was deserted. Even the rumors with which its streets had 
 been so lately filled, were already forgotten. None have 
 memories as frail as the gossip. Not only does this class 
 of persons and a numerous class it is, including nearly 
 all whose minds are not fitted to receive more elevated ma- 
 terials not only, we say, does this class of persons over- 
 look the contradictions and absurdities of the stories they 
 repeat, but they forget the stories themselves almost as 
 soon as heard. Such was now the case at Biberry. Scarce 
 an individual could be found in the place who would ac- 
 knowledge that he or she had ever heard that Mary Mon- 
 son was connected with robbers, or who could recollect 
 that he once fancied the accused guilty. 
 
 We may as well say here, that nothing has ever been 
 done with Sarah Burton. She is clearly guilty ; but the 
 law, in these times of progress, disdains to pursue the 
 guilty. Their crimes are known ; and of what use can it 
 be to expose those whom every one can see are offenders ? 
 No, it is the innocent who have most reason to dread the 
 law. They can be put to trouble, cost, vexation and loss, 
 if they can not be exactly condemned. We see how thou- 
 sands regard the law in a recent movement in the legisla- 
 ture, by which suits have been ordered to try the titles of 
 most of the large landed proprietors, with the very honest 
 and modest proposal annexed, that their cases shall be pre- 
 judged, and the landlords deprived of the means of defend- 
 ing themselves, by sequestering their rents ! Everybody 
 says this is the freest country on earth ; the only country 
 that is truly free ; but we must be permitted to say, that 
 such a law, like twenty more that have been passed in the 
 same interest within the last ten years, savors a good deal 
 of the character of a ukase. 
 
 Our characters, with the exception of 3V' : Brain and his 
 bride, were now assembled at Rattletrap. Dunscomb had 
 ascertained all it was necessary to know concerning Mil- 
 dred, and had taken the steps necessary to protect her. Of 
 her qualified insanity he did not entertain a doubt ; though 
 
374 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 it was a madness so concealed by the blandishments of 
 education and the graces of a refined woman, that few saw 
 it, and fewer still wished to believe it true. On most sub- 
 jects this unhappy lady was clear-minded and intelligent 
 enough, more especially on that of money ; for, while her 
 expenditures were generous, and her largesses most liberal, 
 she manifested wonderful sagacity in taking care of her 
 property. It was this circumstance that rendered it so 
 difficult to take any steps to deprive her of its control ; 
 though Dunscomb had seen enough, in the course of the 
 recent trial, to satisfy him that such a measure ought to be 
 resorted to in the interest of her own character. 
 
 It was in cunning, and in all the low propensities con- 
 nected with that miserable quality, that Mildred Milling- 
 ton, as she now insisted on calling herself, most betrayed 
 her infirmity. Many instances of it have been incidentally 
 related in the course of our narrative, however unpleasant 
 such an exhibition has been. There is nothing more re- 
 pugnant to the principles or tastes of the right thinking 
 and right feeling, than the practices which cunning en- 
 genders. Timms, however, was a most willing agent in all 
 the schemes of his client ; though some of her projects had 
 puzzled him by their elaborate duplicity, as much as they 
 had astounded him by their boldness. 
 
 These were the schemes that had their origin in obli- 
 quity of mind. Still they were not without merit in the 
 eyes of Timms, who was cunning without being mad. 
 
 Before quitting Biberry, Timms was liberally paid and 
 dismissed. Dunscomb explained to him the situation of 
 his handsome client, without adverting to the state of her 
 mind, when the attorney at once caught at the chances of 
 a divorce. Among the other "ways of the hour," that of 
 dissolving the marriage tie has got to be a sort of fashion- 
 able mania. Neither time, nor duties, nor children, seem 
 to interpose any material obstacle ; and, if our own laws 
 do not afford the required facilities, those of some of our 
 more liberal neighbors do. Timms keeps this principle in 
 his mind, and is at this moment ruminating on the means 
 by which he can liberate his late client from her present 
 chains, and bind her anew in some of his own forging. It 
 is scarcely necessary to add, that Mildred troubles herself 
 very little in the premises, so far as this covert lover is 
 concerned. 
 
 The ridicule of Williams was at first the sorest portion 
 of Timms's disappointment. Bachelors alike, and rivals 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 375 
 
 for popular favor, these two worthies had long been look- 
 ing out for advantageous marriages. Each had the sagacity 
 to see that his chances of making a more and more eligi- 
 ble connection were increasing slowly, and that it was a 
 great thing for a rising man to ascend without dragging 
 after him a wife chosen from among those that prop the 
 base of the great social ladder. It was nuts to one of these 
 competitors for the smiles of the ladies to discover that 
 his rival was in love with a married woman ; and this so 
 much the more, because the prospects of Timms's success 
 arising from his seeming intimacy with the fair occupant 
 of the jail, had given Williams a very serious fright 
 Place two men in competition, no matter in what, and all 
 their energies become concentrated in rivalry. Again and 
 again had these two individuals betrayed their mutual 
 jealousy ; and now that one of them had placed himself 
 in a position so false, not to say ridiculous, the other did 
 not fail to enjoy his disappointment to the top of his bent. 
 It was in this manner that Saucy Williams took his re- 
 venge for the defeat in the trial. 
 
 Mrs. Gott was also at Rattletrap. Dunscomb retained 
 much of his original tenderness for Mildred, the grand- 
 mother of his guest of that name, and he granted her de- 
 scendant every indulgence she could ask. Among other 
 things, one of the requests of the liberated prisoner was 
 to be permitted to manifest this sense of her gratitude for 
 the many acts of kindness received from the wife of the 
 sheriff. Gott, accordingly, was left to take care of him- 
 self, while his nice little companion was transported to a 
 scene that she found altogether novel, of a temporary resi- 
 dence in a gentleman's dwelling. Sarah's housekeeping, 
 Sarah's good natiye, attentions, neatness, attire and attrac- 
 tions, would have been themes to monopolize all of the 
 good little woman's admiration, had not Anna Updyke, 
 then on a visit at Rattletrap, quite fairly come in for her 
 full share. She might almost be said to be in love with 
 both. 
 
 It was just after breakfast that Mildred locked an arm 
 in that of Anna, and led her young friend by one of the 
 wooded paths that run along the shores of the Hudson, 
 terminating in a summer-house, with a most glorious 
 view. In this there was nothing remarkable ; the eye 
 rarely resting on any of the " bits " that adorn the banks 
 of that noble stream, without taking in beauties to en- 
 chant it. But to all these our two lovely young women 
 
.fj6 THE U'AYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 were momentarily as insensible as they were tp the fact 
 that their own charming forms, floating among shrubbery 
 as fragrant as themselves, added in no slight degree to the 
 beauty of the scene. In manner, Mildred was earnest, if 
 not ardent, and a little excited ; on the other hand, Anna 
 was placid, though sensitive, changing color without ceas- 
 ing, as her thoughts were drawn nearer and nearer to that 
 theme which now included the great object of her exist 
 ence. 
 
 " Your uncle brought me letters from town last evening, 
 Anna, dear," commenced the liberated lady ; " one of them 
 is from Monsieur de Larocheforte. Is that not strange?" 
 
 " What is there so strange in a husband writing to a 
 wife ? To me it seems the most natural thing in the 
 world." 
 
 " It does ? I am surprised to hear you say so you, 
 Anna, whom I regarded as so truly my friend. I have 
 discarded Monsieur de Larocheforte, and he ought to re- 
 spect my pleasure." 
 
 " It would have been better, my dear mamma, had you 
 discarded him before marriage, instead of after." 
 
 "Ah your dear mamma, indeed! I was your school- 
 mamma, Anna, and well had it been for me had I been left 
 to finish my education in my own country. Then I should 
 have escaped this most unfortunate marriage ! Do not 
 marry, Anna take my advice and never marry. Matri- 
 mony is unsuited to ladies." 
 
 " How long have you been of this opinion, dear mam- 
 ma?" asked the young girl, smiling. 
 
 "Just as long as I have been made to feel how it 
 crushes a woman's independence, and how completely it 
 gives her a master, and how very, very^ humiliating and 
 depressing is the bondage it inflicts. Do you not feel the 
 force of my reasons ?" 
 
 " I confess I do not," answered Anna, in a subdued, yet 
 clear and distinct voice. " I see nothing humiliating or 
 depressing in a woman's submission to her husband. It is 
 the law of nature, and why should we wish to alter it ? 
 My mother has ever inculcated such opinions, and you 
 will excuse me if I say I think the Bible^does, also." 
 
 "The Bible! Yes, that is a good book, though I am 
 afraid it is very little read in France. I ought, perhaps, 
 to say, ' read very little by strangers resident in France.' 
 The Frenchwomen themselves are not one-half as negli- 
 gent of their duties, in this respect, as are the strangers 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 377 
 
 who go to reside among them. When the roots, that have 
 grown to any size in their native soil, are violently trans- 
 planted to another, it is not often that the tree obtains its 
 proper dimensions and grace. I wish I had never seen 
 France, Anna, in which case I should never have been 
 Madame de Larocheforte vicomtesse, by the old law, and I 
 am afraid it was that idle appellation that entrapped me. 
 How much more truly respectable I should have been as 
 Mrs. John Smith, or Mrs. John Brown, or Mrs. David 
 Smith, the wife of a countryman, if I must be a wife at 
 all!" 
 
 " Choose at least some name of higher pretension/' said 
 Anna, laughing. " Why not a Mrs. Van Rensselaer, or a 
 Mrs. Van Cortlandt, or a Mrs. Livingston, or a Mrs. Some- 
 body else, of one of our good old families ? " 
 
 " Families ! Do you know, child, it is treason to talk of 
 families in this age of anti-rentism. They tell me that the 
 man who makes an estate, may enjoy it, should he happen 
 to know how, and this, though he may have cheated all he 
 ever dealt with, in order to become rich ; but, that he who 
 inherits an estate has no claim. It is his tenants who have 
 the high moral claim to his father's property." 
 
 " I know nothing of all this, and would rather talk of 
 things I understand." 
 
 " By which you mean wedlock, and its cares ! No, my 
 dear, you little understand what matrimony is, or how 
 much humiliation is required of us women to become 
 wives, or you would never think of marrying." 
 
 "I have never told you that I do think of marrying 
 that is, not much." 
 
 " There spoke your honest nature, which will not permit 
 even an unintended deception. This it was that so much 
 attached me to you as a child ; for, though I am not very 
 ingenuous myself, I can admire the quality in another." 
 
 " This admission does not exactly prove the truth of 
 your words, mamma ! " said Anna, smiling. 
 
 " No matter let us talk of matrimony. Has John Wil- 
 meter proposed to you, Anna?" 
 
 This was a home question ; no wonder the young lady 
 started. After a short, musing pause, however, the native 
 candor of Anna Updyke prevailed, and she admitted that 
 he had. 
 
 11 Tbank you for this confidence ; but you must go fur- 
 ther. Remember, I am your mamma. Is the gentleman 
 accepted?" 
 
378 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 A rosy blush, succeeded by a nod of the head, was the 
 answer. 
 
 " I am sorry I was not consulted before all this hap- 
 pened ; though I have managed my own matters so ill, as 
 to have very few claims to your confidence. You scarce 
 know what you undertake, my child." 
 
 " I undertake to become Jack Wilmeter's wife," an- 
 swered the betrothed, in a very low but a very firm voice ; 
 " and I hope I shall make him a good one. Most of all, 
 do I pray to be obedient and submissive." 
 
 u To no man that breathes, Anna ! no, to no man breath- 
 ing ! It is their business to submit to us; not we to them ! " 
 
 "This is not my reading of the great rule of woman's 
 conduct. In my view of our duties, it is the part of woman 
 to be affectionate, mild, patient, and sympathizing if nec- 
 essary, forgiving. I firmly believe that, in the end, such a 
 woman cannot fail to be as happy as is permitted to us to 
 be, here on earth." 
 
 " Forgiving ! " repeated Mildred, her eyes flashing, "yes, 
 that is a word often used, yet how few truly practise its 
 teachings ? Why should I forgive any one that has 
 wronged me ? Our nature tells us to resent, to punish, if 
 necessary, as you say to revenge." 
 
 A slight shudder passed through the frame of Anna, and 
 she unconsciously moved further from her companion, 
 though their arms still continued locked. 
 
 " There must be a great difference between France and 
 America, if revenge is ever taught to a woman, as a part 
 of her duty," returned the younger female, now speaking 
 with an earnestness she had not before betrayed ; " here, 
 we are told that Christianity forbids the very thought of 
 it, and that to forgive is among the very first of our duties. 
 My great instructor in such things has told me that one of 
 the surest evidences of a hopeful state of the feelings is the 
 banishment of everything like resentment, and a desire to 
 be at peace with all around us to have a perception that 
 we love the race as beings of our wants and hopes." 
 
 " Is this the sort of love, then, with which you give your 
 hand to young Wilmeter ? " 
 
 Scarlet is not brighter than was the 1 color that now 
 glowed in the cheeks of Anna, stole into her temples, and 
 even diffused itself over her neck and chest. To herself it 
 seemed as if her very hands blushed. Then the power of 
 innocence came to sustain her, and she became calm and 
 steady. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 379 
 
 "It is nottlie feeling with which I shall marry John," she 
 said. " Nature has given us another sentiment, and I shall 
 not endeavor to be superior to all of my sex and class. I 
 love John Wilmeter, I own ; and I hope to make him 
 happy." 
 
 " To be a dutiful, obedient wife, forever studying his 
 tastes and caprices ! " 
 
 " I trust I shall not be forever studying the indulgence 
 of my own. I see nothing degrading to a woman, in her 
 filling the place nature and Christianity have assigned to 
 her, and in her doing her duty as a wife." 
 
 " These are not my feelings, receiving your terms as you 
 wish them to be understood. But several have told me I 
 ought never to have married ; I myself know that I should 
 have been an American, and not a French wife." 
 
 " I have ever heard that greater latitude is given to our 
 sex, in France, than in this country." 
 
 "That is true in part only. Nothing can exceed the re- 
 tenue of a French girl, or anything that is decent exceed 
 the want of it that is manifested by many Americans. On 
 the other hand, a married woman here has no privileges at 
 all, not even in society ; while in France, under an air of 
 
 treat seeming propriety, she does very much as she sees 
 t. It is a mistake, however, to suppose that faithful wives, 
 and devoted mothers, most especially the last, are not to be 
 found all over Europe in France, in particular." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," cried Anna, with a really gratified 
 air ; " it gives me pleasure when I hear of any of our sex 
 behaving as they should behave." 
 
 " Should behave ! I fear, Anna, a little covert reproach 
 is intended, in that remark. Our estimate of the conduct 
 of our friends must depend on our notions of our own 
 duties. Now, hearken to my manner of reasoning on this 
 subject. In a physical sense, man is strong, woman is 
 weak ; while, in a moral sense, woman is strong and man 
 is weak. You admit my premises ? " 
 
 " The first part of them, certainly," said Anna, laughing, 
 "while I pretend to no knowledge of the last." 
 
 " You surely do not believe that John Wilmeter is as 
 pure, ingenuous, good, as you are yourself ? " 
 
 " I see no reason why he should not be. I am far from 
 certain Jack is not even better." 
 
 " It is useless to discuss such a subject with you. The 
 principle of pride is wanting, without which you can never 
 enter into my feelings." 
 
380 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " I am glad it is so. I fancy John will be all the hap- 
 pier for it. Ah ! rny dear mamma, I never knew any good 
 come of what you call this ' principle of pride.' We are 
 told to be humble and not to be proud. It may be all the 
 better for us females that rulers are given to us here, in 
 the persons of our husbands." 
 
 " Anna Updyke, do you marry John Wilmeter with the 
 feeling that he is to rule ? You overlook the signs of the 
 times, the ways of the hour, child, if you do aught so weak ! 
 Look around you, and see how everybody, almost every- 
 thing, is becoming independent, our sex included. For- 
 merly, as I have heard elderly persons say, if a woman 
 suffered in her domestic relations, she was compelled to 
 suffer all. The quarrel lasted for a life. Now, no one 
 thinks of being so unreasonably wretched. No, the wronged 
 wife, or even the offended wife Monsieur de Laroche- 
 forte snuffs abominably abominably yes, abominably 
 but no wife is obliged, in these times of independence and 
 reason, to endure a snuffy husband 
 
 "No," broke in Dunscomb, appearing from an adjoining 
 path, "she has only to pack up her spoons and be off. 
 The Code can never catch her. If it could on one page, 
 my life for it there is a hole for her to get out of its grasp 
 on the next. Your servant, ladies ; I have been obliged to 
 overhear more of your conversation than was intended for 
 my ears, perhaps ; these paths running so close to each 
 other, and you being so animated and now, I mean to 
 take an old man's privilege, and speak my mind. In the 
 first place, I shall deal with the agreeable. Anna, my love, 
 Jack is a lucky fellow- far luckier than he deserves to be. 
 You carry the right sentiment into wedlock. It is the right 
 of the husband to be the head of his family ; and the wife 
 who resists his authority is neither prudent nor a Christian. 
 He may abuse it, it is true ; but, even then, so long as 
 criminality is escaped, it were better to submit. I approve 
 of every word you have uttered, dear, and thank you for it 
 all in my nephew's name. And now, Mildred, as one who 
 has a right to advise you, by his avowed love for your 
 grandmother, and recent close connection with yourself, 
 let me tell you what I think of those principles that you 
 avow, and also of the state of things that is so fast growing 
 up in this country. In the first place, he is no true friend 
 of your sex who teaches it this doctrine of independence. 
 I should think it is true, I am only a bachelor, and have 
 no experience to back me but, I should think that a 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 381 
 
 woman who truly loves her husband, would find a delight 
 in her dependence 
 
 " Oh ! certainly ! " exclaimed Anna biting her tongue 
 at the next instant, and blushing scarlet at her own temer- 
 ity. 
 
 " I understand you, child, and approve again but there 
 comes Jack, and I shall have to turn you over to him, that 
 you may receive a good scolding from headquarters, for 
 this abject servitude feeling that you have betrayed. Go 
 go his arm is held out already and harkee, young 
 folk, remember that a new maxim in morals has come in 
 with the Code ' Principles depend on Circumstances.' 
 That is the rule of conduct nowadays that, and anti-rent- 
 ism, and ' republican simplicity,' and the * cup-and-saucer 
 law,' and and yes and the ever-blessed Code ! " 
 
 Dunscomb was obliged to stop for breath, which gave 
 the young couple an opportunity to walk away. As for 
 Mildred, she stood collected, extremely ladylike in mien, 
 but with a slight degree of hauteur expressed in her coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 ** And now, sir, that we are alone," she said, " permit me 
 to inquire what my part of the lecture is to be. I trust 
 you will remember, however, that, while I am Mildred 
 Millington by birth, the law which you so much reverence 
 and admire, makes me Madame de Larocheforte." 
 
 " You mean to say that I have the honor of conversing 
 with a married woman ? " 
 
 " Exactly so, Mr. Dunscomb." 
 
 " I comprehend you, ma'am, and shall respect your po- 
 sition. You are not about to become my niece, and I can 
 claim no right to exceed the bounds of friendship 
 
 " Nay, my dear sir, I do not wish to say this. You have 
 every right to advise. To me you have been a steady and 
 well-judging friend, and this in the most trying circum- 
 stances. I am ready to hear you, sir, in deference, if not 
 in your beloved humility." 
 
 " That which I have to say refers solely to your own hap- 
 piness, Mildred. Your return to America has, I fear, been 
 most inopportune. Among other innovations that are 
 making on every side of us, even to the verge of dissolu- 
 tion of civilized society, comes the liberty of women. 
 Need I tell you what will be the next step in this dow^ 
 ward career?" 
 
 " You needs must, Mr. Dunscomb I do not compre- 
 hend you. What will that step be ?" 
 
382 THE WAVS OF THE HOCK. 
 
 " Her licentiousness. No woman can throw off the most 
 sacred of all her earthly duties, in this reckless manner, 
 and hope to escape from the doom of her sex. After 
 making a proper allowance for the increase of population, 
 the increase in separated married people is getting to be 
 out of all proportion. Scarce a month passes that one 
 does not hear of some wife who has left her husband, se- 
 creted herself with a child, perhaps, as you did, in some 
 farm house, passing by a different name, and struggling 
 for her rights, as she imagines. Trust me, Mildred, all this 
 is as much opposed to nature as it is to prescribed duties. 
 That young woman spoke merely what an inward impulse, 
 that is incorporated with her very being, prompted her to 
 utter. A most excellent mother oh ! what a blessing is 
 that to one of your sex how necessary, how heavenly, 
 how holy ! an excellent mother has left her in ignorance 
 of no one duty, and her character has been formed in what 
 I shall term harmony with her sex. I must be plain, Mil- 
 dred you have not enjoyed this advantage. Deprived of 
 your parent young, known to be rich, and transplanted to 
 another soil, your education has necessarily been intrusted 
 to hirelings, flatterers, or persons indifferent to your real 
 well-being ; those who have consulted most the reputation 
 of their instruction, and have paid the most attention to 
 those arts which soonest strike the eye, and most readily at- 
 tract admiration. In this their success has been complete." 
 
 "While you think it has not been so much so, sir, in 
 more material things ? " said the lady, haughtily. 
 
 " Let me be "Sincere. It is due to my relation to you 
 to your grandmother to the past to the present time. I 
 know the blood that runs in your veins, Mildred. You are 
 self-willed by descent, rich by inheritance, independent by 
 the folly of our legislators. Accident has brought you 
 home, at the very moment when our ill-considered laws are 
 unhinging society in many of its most sacred interests ; 
 and, consulting only an innate propensity, you have vent- 
 ured to separate from your husband, to conceal yourself 
 in a cottage, a measure, I dare say, that comported well 
 with your love of the romantic " 
 
 " Not so I was oppressed, annoyed, unhappy at home, 
 and sought refuge in that cottage. Monsieur de Laroche- 
 forte has such a passion for snuff ! He uses it night and 
 day." 
 
 " Then followed the serious consequences which involved 
 you in so many fearful dangers " 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 383 
 
 " True," interrupted the lady, laying her small, gloved 
 hand hastily on his arm "very true, dear Mr. Dunscomb ; 
 but how cleverly I contrived to escape them all ! how 
 well I managed your Mr. Timms, good Mrs. Gott, the 
 puffy, pompous sheriff, that wily Williams too, whose palm 
 felt the influence of my gold oh ! the excitement of the 
 last two months has been a gift of paradise to me, and, for 
 the first time since my marriage, have I known what true 
 happiness was ! " 
 
 Dunscomb turned, astonished, to his companion, and 
 stared her in the face. Never was the countenance more 
 lovely to the cursory glance, the eye brighter, the cheek 
 with a richer glow on it, or the whole air, mien and atti- 
 tude more replete with womanly loveliness, and womanly 
 graces ; but the observant eye of the lawyer penetrated 
 beyond all these, and detected the unhappy spirit which 
 had gained possession of a tenement so lovely. The ex- 
 pression of the countenance denoted the very triumph of 
 cunning. We pretend not to a knowledge of the arcana of 
 nature, to be able to detect the manner in which the mov- 
 ing principles prompt to good or evil, but we must reject 
 all sacred history, and no small portion of profane, not to 
 believe that agencies exist that are not visible to our ordi- 
 nary senses ; and that our boasted reason, when abandoned 
 to its own support, becomes the victim of those that are 
 malign. We care not by what names these agents are 
 called, imps, demons, evil spirits, or evil passions ; but this 
 we do know, let him beware who submits to their control. 
 Better, far better, were it that such an one had never been 
 born! 
 
 Three days later Mildred Millington was in a state that 
 left no doubt of her infirmity. The lucid intervals were 
 long, however, and at such times her mind seemed clear 
 enough on all subjects but one. Divorce was her " ruling 
 passion," and, in order to effect her purpose, all the ex- 
 traordinary ingenuity of a most fertile mind was put in 
 requisition. Although means were promptly, but cau- 
 tiously, taken to see that she did not squander her large 
 pecunian- resources, Dunscomb early saw that they were 
 uncalled for. Few persons were better qualified to look 
 after their money than was this unfortunate lady, in the 
 midst of the dire visitation that intellectually reduced her 
 below the level of most around her. On this head her 
 sagacity was of proof ; though her hand was not closed with 
 the gripe of a miser. Accustomed, from childhood, to a 
 
384 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 liberal expenditure, she was willing still to use the means 
 that an inscrutable Providence had so liberally placed in 
 ner way, her largesses and her charities continuing the 
 same as ever. Down to the present moment the fund- 
 holder, the owner of town property, the mortgagee, and 
 the trader is allowed to enjoy his own, without any direct 
 interference of the demagogue with his rights ; but how 
 much longer this exception is to last is known only to the 
 Being who directs the destinies of nations ; or, at least, 
 not to any who are now on earth, surrounded equally by 
 the infirmities and ignorance of the present state. 
 
 But Mildred was, and is yet, permitted to exercise her 
 rights over her own property, though care is had to see 
 that no undue advantage is taken of her sex, years, and 
 ignorance. Beyond this her control was not disputed, and 
 she was suffered to manage her own affairs. She set 
 about the matter of a divorce with the whole energy of 
 her nature, and the cunning of her malady. Timms was 
 again summoned to her service, unknown to Dunscomb, 
 who would never have winked at the measures that were 
 taken, though so much in accordance with "the ways of 
 the hour." 
 
 Provided with proper credentials, this managing agent 
 sought an interview with M. de Larocheforte, a worn-out 
 debauchee of some rank, who, sooth to say, had faults even 
 graver than that of taking snuff. Notwithstanding the 
 great personal attractions of Mildred, the motive for marry- 
 ing her had been money, as is usually the case in a very 
 great proportion of the connections of the old world, 
 among persons of condition. Love is to succeed, and not 
 to precede, matrimony. Mildred had been taught that 
 lesson, and grievously had she been disappointed. The 
 snuff got into her eyes. M. de Larocheforte M. le 
 Vicomte as he had been, and was still determined to be, 
 and in all probability will be, in spite of all the French 
 44 republican simplicity " that was ever summoned to a 
 nation's rescue M. le Vicomte was directly approached 
 by Timms, and a proposal made that he should put him- 
 self in a condition to be divorced, for a stipulated price. 
 Notwithstanding the opinion of the learned attorney- 
 general of this great State, of the European aristocracy, 
 and who is so every way qualified to give such an opinion, 
 ex-officio as it might be, M. de Larocheforte declined lend- 
 ing himself to so vile a proposition, Frenchman and noble 
 as he was. Nor did the husband believe that the discredit- 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 365 
 
 able proposal came from his wife. He compelled Timms 
 to admit as much, under a menace of losing his case. That 
 worthy was puzzled at this result, for he had made the 
 proposal on his "own hook," as he afterward explained 
 the matter to Williams, in the fullest confidence of " re- 
 publican simplicity," and was astonished at meeting with 
 the self-respect of a gentleman, if with no very elevated 
 principles in a nobleman ! It was accordingly necessary 
 to have recourse to some other mode of proceeding. 
 
 Luckily for the views of Timms and his fair client, one 
 can scarcely go amiss in this country, when a divorce is 
 desired. Although a few of the older States remain rea- 
 sonably inflexible on this subject, \\\ some respects unrea- 
 sonably so, indeed, they are generally surrounded by com- 
 munities that are more indulgent. By means of some 
 hocus pocus of the law, that we pretend not to explain, the 
 names of Gabriel Jules Vincent Jean Baptiste de Laroche- 
 forte ads. Mildred de Larocheforte were just beginning to 
 steal on the dawn of the newspapers, in a case that, ere 
 long, might blaze in the meridian of gossip. 
 
 Dunscomb frowned, and reproached, but it was too late 
 to recede. He has told Mildred, and he has told Timms, 
 that nuptial knots tied in one community, cannot be so 
 readily unloosed in another, as many imagine ; and that 
 there must, at least, be good faith the animus revertendi 
 in the change of residence that usually precedes the appli- 
 cation. But money is very powerful, and smooths a thou- 
 sand difficulties. No one could predict the termination ; 
 and, as the vicomte, though only to be approached in a 
 more delicate way than that adopted by Timms, was as 
 tired of the connection as his wife, and was very anxious 
 to obtain a larger share of the fortune than the "cup and 
 saucer" law will give him, it was by no means improbable 
 that the end of the affair would be a quasi-divorce, that 
 would at least enable each party to take his or her own 
 course, without fear of molestation from the other. 
 
 In the meantime, Millington was married very shortly 
 after the trial. The engagement had not been long, but 
 the parties had known each other intimately for years. 
 The bridegroom, in one sense, was the head of his family, 
 though by no means possessed of its largest fortune. In 
 this character, it devolved on him to care for the interests 
 of his fair relative. Although as much opposed as Duns- 
 comb to the course she was taking, he did not shrink from 
 his duties as a relative ; and it is understood that his house 
 
3 50 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 is Mildred's home when in town. Rattletrap opened its 
 hospitable doors to the unfortunate woman, whenever she 
 chose to visit the place ; and Timbully has also claims on 
 her time and presence. 
 
 Dunscomb announced his intention to retire from prac- 
 tice at the end of a twelvemonth, the morning that Michael 
 and Sarah were married. In the intervening time, John 
 Wilmeter and his new nephew were received as partners, 
 and the worthy bachelor is now sedulously but silently 
 transferring as respectable and profitable a list of clients as 
 any man in the courts can claim. His own advice is prom- 
 ised, at all times, to his old friends ; and, as not a soul has 
 objected, and the young men bid fair, there is every reason 
 to hope that useful and profitable labor will keep both out 
 of mischief. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Some curate has penn'd this invective, 
 And you have studied it. MASSINGER. 
 
 THE day set apart for the nuptials of John Wilmeter and 
 Anna Updyke finally arrived. The ceremony was to take 
 place in a little church that had stood, time out of mind, 
 in the immediate neighborhood of Timbully. This church 
 was colonial in its origin, and, while so much around it 
 had undergone vital changes, there stands that little temple, 
 reared in honor of God, in its simplicity, unpretending 
 yet solid and durable architecture, resembling, in all these 
 particulars, the faith it was erected to sustain. Among the 
 other ways of the hour that are worthy of our notice, the 
 Church itself has sustained many rude shocks of late 
 shocks from within as w r ell as from without. The Father 
 of Lies has been roving through its flocks with renewed 
 malice, damaging the shepherds, perhaps, quite as much 
 as the sheep, and doing things hitherto unheard of in the 
 brief annals of American Ecclesiastical History. Although 
 we deeply regret this state of things, we feel no alarm. 
 The hand which first reared this moral fabric will be cer- 
 tain to protect it as far as that protection shall be for its 
 good. It has already effected a great reform. The trum- 
 pet is no longer blown in Zion in our own honor ; to boast 
 of the effects of a particular discipline ; to announce the 
 consequences of order, and of the orders ; or, in short, to 
 proclaim a superiority that belongs only to the Head ol 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 387 
 
 all the Churches, letthem be further from, or nearer to, what 
 are considered distinctive principles. What the Church is 
 now enduring the country itself most sadly wants a lesson 
 in humility ; a distrust of self, a greater dependence on 
 that wisdom which comes, not from the voices of the 
 people, not from the ballot-boxes, not from the halls of 
 senates, from heroes, god-likes, or stereotyped opinions, 
 but from above, the throne of the Most High. 
 
 In one of those little temples reared by our fathers in 
 the days of the monarchy, when, in truth, greater repub- 
 lican simplicity really reigned among us, in a thousand 
 things, than reigns to-day, the bridal party from Timbully 
 was assembled at an early hour of the morning. The com- 
 pany was not large, though it necessarily included most of 
 the nearest relatives of the bride and groom. Dunscomb 
 was there, as were Millington and his wife ; Dr. and Mrs. 
 McBrain, of course, and two or three other relations on the 
 side of the bride's father, besides Mildred. It was to be a 
 private wedding, a thing that ie fast getting to be for- 
 gotten. Extravagance and parade have taken such deep 
 root among us that young people scarce consider them- 
 selves legally united unless there are six bridesmaids, one, 
 in particular, to " pull off the glove ; " as many attendants 
 of the other sex, and some three or four hundred friends 
 in the evening, to bow and courtesy before the young 
 couple, utter a few words of nonsense, and go their way to 
 bow and courtesy somewhere else. 
 
 There was nothing of this at Timbully, on that wedding 
 day. Dunscomb and his nephew drove over from Rattle- 
 trap, early in the morning, even while the dew was glitter- 
 ing on the meadows, and Millington and his wife met them 
 at a cross-road, less than a mile from McBrain's country- 
 house. The place of rendezvous was at the church itself, 
 and thither the several vehicles directed their way. Duns- 
 comb was just in time to hand Mildred from her very com- 
 plete travelling-carriage, of which the horses were in a 
 foam, having been driven hard all the way from town. 
 Last of all, appeared Stephen Hoof, driving the very re- 
 spectable-looking rockaway of Mrs. McBrain we were on 
 the point of writing " his master," but there are no longer 
 any " masters " in New York. Stephen, himself, who had 
 not a spark of pride, except in his horses, and who was 
 really much attached to the person he served, always spoke 
 of the doctor as his "boss." Jack Wilmeter, somewhat of 
 a wag, had perplexed the honest coachman, on a certain 
 
388 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 occasion, by telling him that " boss " was the Latin foi 
 "ox," and that it was beneath his dignity to be using Pill 
 and Pole-us (Bolus) to drag about "oxen." But Stephen 
 recovered from this shock in due time, and has gone on 
 ever since calling his master " boss." We suppose this 
 touch of " republican simplicity " will maintain its ground 
 along with the other sacred principles that certain persons 
 hold on to so tightly that they suffer others, of real im- 
 portance, to slip through their fingers. 
 
 Stephen was proud of his office that day. He liked his 
 new mistress there arc no bossesses and he particularly 
 liked Miss Anna. His horses were used a good deal more 
 than formerly, it is true ; but this he rather liked too, hav- 
 ing lived under the regimes of the two first Mrs. McBrain. 
 He was doubly satisfied because his team came in fresh, 
 without having a hair turned, while that of Madame^ as all 
 the domestics now called Mildred, were white with foam. 
 Stephen took no account of the difference in the distance, 
 as he conceived that a careful coachman would have had 
 his "boss " up early enough to get over the ground in due 
 season, without all this haste. Little did he understand 
 the bossess that his brother-whip had to humor. She paid 
 high, and had things her own way. 
 
 Anna thought Stephen had never driven so fast as he 
 did that morning. The doctor handed her from the car- 
 riage, leading her and his wife directly up to the altar. 
 Here the party was met by John and his uncle, the latter 
 of whom facetiously styled himself the "groomsman." It 
 is a ceremony much more easily done than undone great 
 as the facilities for the last are getting to be. In about 
 five minutes, John Wilmeter and Anna Updyke were pro- 
 nounced to be "one flesh." In five minutes more, Jack 
 had his sweet, smiling, happy, tearful bride, in his own 
 light vehicle, and was trotting away toward a pretty little 
 place in Westchester, that he owns, and which was all 
 ready to receive the young couple. The ponies seemed to 
 understand their duty, and soon carried the bride and 
 bridegroom out of sight. 
 
 " Them's awful trotters, them nags of Mr. Jack Wilming- 
 ton's," said Stephen, as the double phaeton whirled away 
 from the church door, "and if Miss Anny doesn't disap- 
 prove on 'em, afore long, I'm no judge of a team. I'm 
 glad, however, the young gentleman has married into our 
 family, for he does like a hoss, and the gentleman that 
 likes a hoss commonly likes his vife." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 389 
 
 Kis remark was overheard by Dunscomb, though intend' 
 ed only for the ears of the counsellor's coachman. It 
 drew an answer, as might have been foreseen. 
 
 "I am glad you approve of the connection, Stephen," 
 said the counsellor in his good-natured way. " It is a great 
 satisfaction to know that my nephew goes among friends." 
 
 " Fri'nds, sir ! Admirers is a better tarm. I'm a down- 
 right admirer of Mr. Jack, he's sich tastes ; always with 
 his dog, or his gun, or his hoss, in the country ; and I 
 dares to say, with his books in town." 
 
 " Not just all that, Stephen ; I wish it were so ; but 
 truth compels me to own that the young rogue thinks 
 quite as much of balls, and suppers, and tailors, and the 
 opera, as he does of Coke upon Lyttleton, or Blackstone 
 and Kent." 
 
 " Veil, that's wrong," answered Stephen, "and I'll up- 
 hold no man in vot's wrong, so long as I can do better. I 
 know'd both them racers, having heard tell on 'em at the 
 time they vos run, and I've heard good judges say, that 
 timed the hosses, that Kent come in neck and neck, if jus- 
 tice had been done. Mr. Jack will rectify, and come to 
 see the truth afore long mattermony will do that much 
 for him. It's a great help to the seekers arter truth, is 
 mattermony, sir ! " 
 
 " That is the reason you have so much of it at Timbully, 
 I suppose," returned Dunscomb, nodding familiarly toward 
 his friend the doctor, who had heard all that was said. 
 " If matrimony rectifies in this way you must be three 
 times right at home, Stephen." 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered the coachman, nodding his head in 
 reply ; " and when a body does better and better, as often 
 as he tries, there's no great harm in trying. Mr. Jack vill 
 come round, in time." 
 
 " I dare say he will, Stephen, when he has sown all his 
 wild oats ; though the dog pretends to like the Code, and 
 what is more, has the impudence to say he understands it." 
 
 u Yes, sir, all wrong, I dares to say. But Miss Anna 
 will set him right, as a righter young lady never sat on the 
 back seat of a coach. I vish, now ve're on the subject, 
 Squire Dunscomb, to hear your ra'al opinion about them 
 vild oats ; vether they be a true thing, or merely a fancy 
 consarning some vegetable that looks like the true feed. 
 I've often heard of sich things, but never seed any." 
 
 "Nor will you, Stephen, until the doctor turns short 
 round, and renews his youth. Then, indeed, you may see 
 
390 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 some of the grain growing beneath your feet. It is doc- 
 tor's food." 
 
 " Meshy, and good for the grinders of old hosses, I dares 
 to say." 
 
 "Something of the sort. It's the harvest that age reaps 
 from the broadcast of youth. But we are keeping Mrs. 
 McBrain waiting. Stephen will take one less back with 
 him than he brought, my dear lady." 
 
 " I trust not. Mr. McBrain has given me reason to hope 
 for the pleasure of your company. Your nephew has car- 
 ried off my daughter ; the least you can do is to come and 
 console me." 
 
 " What is then to become of that dear, but unfortunate 
 young lady ?" glancing toward Mildred. 
 
 " She goes with her relatives, the Millingtons. Next 
 week we are all to meet at Rattletrap, you know." 
 
 The next week the meeting took place, as appointed. 
 
 "Here I am," cried Dunscomb, "truly and finally a 
 bachelor, again. Now for the reign of misrule, negligence, 
 and bad housekeeping. Sarah has left me ; and John has 
 left me ; and Rattletrap will soon become the chosen seat 
 of discomfort and cynicism." 
 
 " Never the last, I should think," answered Mme. de 
 Larocheforte, gayly, " as long as you are its master. But 
 why should you dwell alone here, in your declining years 
 why may I not come and be your housekeeper ?" 
 
 " The offer is tempting, coming, as it does, from one 
 who cannot keep house for herself. But you think of re- 
 turning to Europe, I believe ?" 
 
 " Never or not so long as my own country is so indul- 
 gent to us women ! " 
 
 " Why, yes you are right enough in that, Mildred. 
 This is woman's paradise, in a certain sense, truly ; though 
 much less attention is paid to their weaknesses and wants, 
 by the affluent, than in other lands. In every Christian 
 country but this, I believe, a wife may be compelled to do 
 her duty. Here she is free as the air she breathes, so long 
 as she has a care not to offend in one essential. No, you 
 are right to remain at home, in your circumstances ; that 
 is to say, if you still insist on your mistaken independence ; 
 a condition in which nature never intended your sex to 
 exist." 
 
 " And yourself, sir ! Did not nature as much intend 
 that you should marry as another ? " 
 
 " It did," answered Dunscomb, solemnly ; " and I would 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 30 1 
 
 have discharged the obligation, had it been in my power. 
 You well know why I have never been a husband the 
 happy parent of a happy family." 
 
 Mildred's eyes swam with tears. She had heard the his- 
 tory of her grandmother's caprice, and had justly appre- 
 ciated the wrongs of Dunscomb. This it was not difficult 
 for her to do, in the case of third parties, even while so 
 obtuse on the subject of her own duties. She took the 
 hand of her companion, by a stealthy and unexpected 
 movement, and raised it still more unexpectedly to her 
 lips. Dunscomb started ; turned his quick glance on her 
 face, where he read all her contrition and regrets. It was 
 by these sudden exhibitions of right feeling and correct 
 judgment, that Mme. de Larocheforte was able to main- 
 tain her position. The proofs of insanity were so limited 
 in the range of its influence, occurred so rarely, now she 
 was surrounded by those who really took an interest in 
 her, and this not for the sake of her money, but for her own 
 sake, that her feelings had become softened, and she no 
 longer Regarded men and women as being placed near her 
 to prey on her means, and to persecute her. By thus giv- 
 ing her affections scope her mind was gradually getting to 
 be easier, and her physical existence improved. McBrain 
 was of opinion that, w r ith care, and with due attention to 
 avoid excitement and distasteful subjects, her reason might 
 again be seated on its throne, and bring all the faculties of 
 her mind in subjection to it. 
 
 At length the time for the visit of the young people 
 arrived. Anxious to see happy faces assembled around 
 him, Dunscomb had got Mildred, the McBrains, and the 
 Millingtons, at Rattletrap, to do honor to the bride and 
 groom. Good Mrs. Gott had not been overlooked, and by 
 an accident Timms drove in at the gate just as the whole 
 party, including Jack and his blooming wife, w r ere sitting 
 down to a late breakfast. The counsellor welcomed his 
 rnan-of-all-work, for habit renders us less fastidious in our 
 associations than most of us imagine. 
 
 Timms was very complimentary to both of the young 
 couples, and in a slight degree witty, agreeably to his own 
 mode of regarding the offspring of that effort of the imag- 
 ination. 
 
 " What do you think of Williams's getting married, 
 Squire Dunscomb ? " the attorney asked. " There's a man 
 for matrimony ! He regards women and niggers as inferior 
 beings." 
 
392 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 " Pray, how do you regard them, Timms ? The women 
 only, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Oh ! dear, no, squire ; as far as possible from that ! 1 
 reverence the ladies, without whom our state in this life 
 would be 
 
 " Single I suppose you wish to say. Yes, that is a very 
 sensible remark of yours without women we should cer- 
 tainly all get to be old bachelors in time. But, Timms, it 
 is proper that I should be frank with you. Mildred de 
 Larocheforte may manage to get a divorce, by means of 
 some of the quirks of the law ; but were she to be proclaimed 
 single, by sound of trumpet, she would never marry you" 
 
 " You are sharp on me this morning, sir ; no one but the 
 lady herself can say that." 
 
 " There you are mistaken. I know it, and am ready to 
 give my reasons for what I say." 
 
 " I should be pleased to hear them, sir always respect 
 your reasoning powers, though I think no man can say 
 who a lady will or will not marry." 
 
 " In the first place, she does not like you. Thfit is one 
 sufficient reason, Timms 
 
 " Her dislike may be overcome, sir." 
 
 " Her tastes are very refined. She dislikes her present 
 husband principally because he takes snuff." 
 
 " I should have thought she might have discovered her 
 feelings on that subject before she went so far." 
 
 " Not as they manage matters in Europe. There, the 
 suitor is not permitted to kiss his intended, as so often 
 happens among ourselves, I fancy ; and she had no oppor- 
 tunity of ascertaining how unpleasant snuff is. You chew 
 and smoke, and she will endure neither." 
 
 " I'll forswear both, rather than not be agreeable to dear 
 Mary Monson." 
 
 11 Ah, my poor Timms, I see you are deeper in this affair 
 than I had supposed. But I shall turn you over to Mrs. 
 Gott, who has promised to have an explanation with you 
 and who, I believe, will speak by authority." 
 
 Timms was not a little surprised to see his old master 
 very unceremoniously leave him, and the sheriff's wife 
 occupy his place. 
 
 " Squire Timms," the latter commenced, without a mo- 
 ment's hesitation, " we live in a very strange world, it 
 must be admitted. Gott says as much as this, and Gott is 
 commonly right. He always maintained he never should 
 be called on to hang Mary Monson." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 393 
 
 " Mr. Gott is a very prudent man, but he would do well 
 to take more care of his keys." 
 
 " I have not been able to find out how that was done ! 
 Mary laughs when I ask her, and says it was witchcraft ; 
 I sometimes think it must have been something of the 
 sort." 
 
 " It was money, Mrs. Gott, which kept Goodwin con- 
 cealed to the last moment, and brought about half of all 
 that happened." 
 
 " You knew that Peter Goodwin was alive, and hid up 
 at Mrs. Horton's?" 
 
 " I was as much surprised, when he entered the court, 
 as any one there. My client managed it all for herself. 
 She, and her gold." 
 
 " Well, you have the credit of it, Timms, let me tell you, 
 and many in the county think it was very well done. I 
 am your friend, and ever have been. You stood by Gott 
 like a man, at his election, and I honor you for it. So I 
 am about to give you a great proof of my friendship. 
 Give up all thoughts of Mary Monson ; she'll never have 
 you." 
 
 " What reasons have you for saying this ? " 
 
 " In the first place she is married already." 
 
 " She may get a divorce. Besides, her present husband 
 is not a citizen. If I go to the senate, I intend to intro- 
 duce a bill to prevent any but citizens getting married. 
 If foreigners want wives, let them be naturalized ! " 
 
 "You talk like a simpleton! Another reason why you 
 should not think of Mary Monson is that you are unsuited 
 to be her husband ? " 
 
 " In what particular, I beg leave to ask ?" 
 
 " Oh ! in several. You are both too sharp, and would 
 quarrel about your wit, in the very first month," returned 
 Mrs. Gott, laughing. "Take my advice, Timms, and cast 
 your eyes on some Dukes County young woman, who has 
 a natur' more like your own." 
 
 Timms growled out a dissent to this very rational prop- 
 osition, but the discussion was carried on for some time 
 longer. The woman made an impression at last, and when 
 the attorney left the house it was with greatly lessened 
 hopes for the future, and with greatly lessened zeal on the 
 subject of the divorce. 
 
 It was singular, perhaps, that Mrs. Gott had not detected 
 the great secret of Mary Monson's insanity. So many per- 
 sons are going up and down the country, who are mad on 
 
394 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 particular subjects, and sane on most others, that it is not 
 surprising the intelligence and blandishments of a woman 
 like Mildred should throw dust into the eyes of one as 
 simple-minded as Mrs. Gott. With the world at large, in- 
 deed, the equivoque w r as kept up, and while many thought 
 the lady very queer, only a few suspected the truth. It 
 may be fortunate for most of us that writs of lunacy are 
 not taken out against us ; few men or women, being under 
 the control of a good, healthful reason at all times, and 
 on all subjects. 
 
 In one particular, Mme. de Larocheforte was singularly 
 situated. She was surrounded, in her ordinary associa- 
 tions, with newly married persons, who were each and all 
 strenuously resolved to regard the relation in the most 
 favorable point of view. Perhaps there is nothing on earth 
 that so nearly resembles the pure happiness of the blessed, 
 as the felicity that succeeds the entire union of two hearts 
 that are wrapped up in each other. Such persons live 
 principally for themselves, regarding the world at large 
 as little more than their abiding-place. The affinity of 
 feelings, the community of thought, the steadily increas- 
 ing confidence which, in the end, almost incorporates the 
 moral existence of two into one, are so many new and 
 precious ties, that it is not wonderful the novices believe 
 they are transplanted to a new and ethereal state of being. 
 Such was, in a measure, the condition of those with whom 
 Mildred was now called on to associate most intimately. 
 It is true, that the state of the doctor and his wife might 
 be characterized as only happy, while those of the young 
 people amounted to absolute felicity. Mildred had ex- 
 perienced none of the last, and very little of the first, on 
 the occasion of her own marriage, which had been entered 
 into more as a contract of reason than a union of love. 
 She saw how much she had missed, and profound was the 
 grief it occasioned her. 
 
 " You seem very happy," she remarked one day to Anna, 
 as they were again treading the pretty little wood at Rat- 
 tletrap " more than that delighted would be a better 
 word." 
 
 "Jack is very kind to me, and the only complaint I have 
 to make of him is, that he is more fond of me than I de- 
 serve. I tell him I tremble lest our happiness may not 
 last!" 
 
 " Enjoy it while you may. It is so rare to find married 
 persons who are so completely devoted to each other, that 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 395 
 
 it is a pleasant sight to look upon. I never knew any of 
 this, Anna." 
 
 " I regret to hear it, dear mamma it must be that you 
 began wrong. There should be a strong attachment be- 
 fore the nuptial benediction is pronounced; then, with 
 good hearts, and good principles, I should think almost 
 any woman might be content with her fate." 
 
 " It may be so," returned Mildred, with a profound sigh ; 
 " I suppose it must be so. We are created by God, to ful- 
 fil these kind offices to each other, and to love our hus- 
 bands ; and there must be something very wrong when 
 different results follow. For myself, I ought never to 
 have married at all. My spirit is too independent for 
 matrimony." 
 
 Anna was silent ; for, possibly, she might have read 
 "headstrong" for "independent." The most truly inde- 
 pendent thinkers are those who are willing to regard all 
 sides of a subject, and are not particularly wedded to one. 
 Mildred was acute enough to see that the beautiful young 
 bride did not exactly like the allusion she had made to 
 her new character. 
 
 " You do not agree with me ? " she demanded quickly, 
 bending forward to look into her companion's eyes. 
 
 " How can I, mamma Mildred ! As I think no one, 
 man or woman, should have a spirit that disqualifies her 
 for the duties imposed by nature, which is merely the 
 law of our great Creator, how can I agree to your notion 
 of so much independence. We are not intended for all 
 this independence, but have been placed here to do 
 honor to God, and to try to render each other happy. I 
 wish but I am too bold, for one so young and inexperi- 
 enced." 
 
 " Speak freely, dear. I listen with pleasure not to say 
 with curiosity." 
 
 " I am afraid, dear mamma, that the great guide of human 
 conduct is not as much studied in France, as it should be. 
 That teaches us the great lesson of humility. Without hu- 
 mility we are nothing cannot be Christians cannot love 
 our neighbors as ourselves cannot even love God, as it is 
 our duty, as we ought to do." 
 
 " This is very strange, Anna, coming from one of your 
 age ! Is it common for American girls to reason and feel in 
 this way ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not, though I hope more so than is commonly 
 supposed. You will remember what a mother it is mv 
 
$96 THE 1 1' A YS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 good fortune to possess. But, since you really wish me to 
 be frank with you, let me finish what I have to say. I sup- 
 pose you know, Mildred, how much more you have to con- 
 tend with than most of your sex ? " 
 
 " Monsieur de Larocheforte, you mean ? " 
 
 "Not at all," returned Mrs. John Wilmeter, slightly 
 smiling. " I put all thought of contention with a hus- 
 band out of the question. You know I have not been 
 married long enough for that, and I could almost hope 
 that the first day of such a scene might be the last of 
 my life ! John would cease to love me, if I quarrelled 
 with him." 
 
 " You will be an extraordinary pair, my dear, if 
 scenes, as you call them, do not occasionally occur be- 
 tween you." 
 
 " I do not expect faultlessness in Jack ; and, as for my- 
 self, I know that I have very many motes to get rid of, and 
 which I trust may, in a measure, be done. But let us re- 
 turn to the- case of a woman, young, well-educated, hand- 
 some, rich to superfluity, and intellectual." 
 
 " All of which are very good things, my child," ob- 
 served Mme. de Larocheforte, with a smile so covert as to 
 be scarcely seen, though it betrayed to her companion the 
 consciousness of her making the application intended 
 "what next?" 
 
 "Wilful, a lover of power, and what she called inde- 
 pendent." 
 
 " Good and bad together. The two first, very bad, I ac- 
 knowledge ; the last, very good." 
 
 "What do you understand by independence ? If it mean 
 a certain disposition to examine and decide for ourselves, 
 under all the obligations of duty, then it is a good thing, a 
 very good thing, as you say ; but if it merely mean a dis- 
 position to do as one pleases, to say what one likes, and to 
 behave as one may at the moment fancy, then it strikes me 
 as a very bad thing. This independence, half the time, is 
 only pride and obstinacy, dear mamma ! " 
 
 "Well, what if it is ? Men are proud and obstinate, too ; 
 and they must be fought with their own weapons." 
 
 " It is easy to make smart speeches, but, by the difficul- 
 ties I meet with in endeavoring to conquer my own heart, 
 I know it is very hard to do right. I know I am a very 
 young monitress 
 
 " Never mind that. Your youth gives piquancy to your 
 instructions. I like to hear you." 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 397 
 
 " Well. I will finish what I had to say. I have ever found 
 that the best assistant, or it might be more reverent to say, 
 the best mode of subduing error, was to comport ourselves 
 with humility-. Ah ! my dear mamma, if you could under- 
 stand how very strong the humble get to be in time, you 
 would throw aside your cherished independence, and rely 
 on other means to secure your happiness ! ' 
 
 Perhaps Mildred was as much struck with the cir- 
 cumstances under which this rebuke or admonition was 
 given as with the advice itself. It had an effect, however, 
 and Dunscomb coming in aid of his niece, this singular 
 woman was gradually drawn from the exaggerated no- 
 tions she had ever entertained of herself and her rights to 
 the contemplation of her duties, as they are exercised in 
 humility. 
 
 If there were no other evidence of the divine origin 
 of the rules of conduct taught by the Redeemer than 
 the profound knowledge of the human heart, that is so 
 closely connected with the great lessons in humility every- 
 where given in his teachings, we conceive it would be suf- 
 ficient in itself to establish their claim to our reverence. 
 If men could be made to feel how strong they become in 
 admitting their weaknesses ; how clearly they perceive 
 truth, when conscious of gazing at its form amid the fogs 
 of error ; and how wise we may become by the conscious- 
 ness of ignorance, more than half of the great battle in 
 morals would be gained. 
 
 Humility was, indeed, a hard lesson for Mildred Milling- 
 ton to study. Her whole life had been in direct opposi- 
 -tion to its precepts, and the great failing of her mind had 
 a strong leaning to a love of power. Nevertheless, there 
 is a still, searching process of correcting, so interwoven 
 with the law of the New Testament, as to be irresistible 
 when brought to aid us, in the manner prescribed by its 
 own theory. No one knew this better than Dunscomb ; 
 and he so directed the reading, thoughts, and feelings of 
 his interesting charge, as to produce an early and a very 
 sensible change on her character. The tendency to in- 
 sanity is still there, and probably will ever remain ; for it is 
 not so much the consequence of any physical derange- 
 ment as of organization ; but it already promises to be so 
 far controlled, as to leave its unhappy subject generally 
 rational, and, for most of her time, reasonably satisfied. 
 
 Dunscomb had several interviews with the vicomte no- 
 vicomte whom he found a much more agreeable person 
 
39 8 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 than he had been prepared to meet, though certainly ad- 
 dicted to snuff. He was made acquainted with the mental 
 hallucinations of his wife as well as with the fact of their 
 being hereditary, when a great change came over the 
 spirit of -his dream ! He had married to perpetuate the 
 family De Larocheforte, but he had no fancy for a race of 
 madmen. Dunscomb found him very reasonable, in con- 
 sequence, and an arrangement was soon made, under the 
 advice of this able counsellor, by means of which Mildred 
 virtually became her own mistress. M. de Larocheforte 
 accepted an ample provision from the estate, and willingly 
 returned to Europe, a part of the world that is much 
 more agreeable, usually, to men of his class than our 
 own " happy country." His absence has proved a great 
 assistance to those who have assumed the care of Mildred's 
 mental state. As all the schemes for a divorce have been 
 discontinued schemes that could have led to no strictly 
 legal consequence and her husband has left the country, 
 the mind of Mildred has become calmer, and the means 
 have been found to bring her almost completely within the 
 control of her reason. 
 
 We have very little to say of the other characters. Timms 
 is still himself. He boasts of the fees he got in the great 
 Mary Monson case. His prospects for the State Senate 
 are far from bad, and should he succeed, we shall expect 
 to see him whining about *' republican simplicity," abusing 
 " aristocracy," which, in his secret heart, means a clean 
 shirt, clean nails, anti-tobacco chewing and anti-blowing- 
 the-nose-with-the-fingers, and aiding anti-rentism. He is 
 scamp enough for anything. 
 
 Williams is actually married, and, in reply to Timms's 
 accounts of the fees, he intimates that Peter Goodwin's 
 ghost would not have appeared, had he not " been choked 
 off." It ought to be strange that these two men like N to 
 boast of their rascality ; but it is in obedience to a law of 
 our nature. Their tongues merely echo their thoughts. 
 
 The McBrains seem very happy. If the wife be an " old 
 man's darling," it is not as a young woman. Dunscomb 
 still calls her "widow," on occasions, but nothing can in- 
 terrupt the harmony of the friends. It is founded on 
 mutual esteem and respect. 
 
 Michael and Sarah promise well. In that family, there 
 is already a boy, to its great-uncle's delight. The parents 
 exult in this gift, and both are grateful. 
 
 We care little for Jack Wilmeter, though a very good 
 
THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 
 
 399 
 
 fellow, in the main. Anna loves him, however, and that 
 gives him an interest in our eyes he might not otherwise 
 enjoy. His charming wife is losing her surperfluous en- 
 thusiasm in the realities of life, but she seems to gain in 
 womanly tenderness and warmth of healthful feeling, pre- 
 cisely in the degree in which she loses the useless tenant 
 of her imagination. 
 
 THE END. 
 
NRLF 
 
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