Next morning Mr. Verne was astir at a very early hour. The rest of the household apparently wrapped in deep slumber, while the wearied man of business sat at his desk, his features fixed and immovable as the bronze productions of the inimitable Lysippus who had won the favor of the Great Alexander.
Scratch! scratch! scratch! went the pen over the lines with inconceivable rapidity, the writer occasionally glancing over his left arm at the document he was copying. The tortoise-shell cat sat at her master's feet with an air of self-importance and a look which seemed to say, "woe be to him who dare to drive me hence."
But there was another within the walls of Sunnybank who was also awake—Mrs. Montgomery.
She leaned on the side of her couch and listened to the faint sound that at intervals came from the office: "Well, well; what will be the end God alone knows! Matilda Verne, you will one day see the fruits of your folly and taste them in all their bitterness!"
"I must divert him from such work. It is killing the man by inches; surely there is some way out of the difficulty—where there's a will there's a way.'"
Mrs. Montgomery said the last words with a will—aye, with the spirit of a Leonidas, and hastily arranging her toilet descended to the silent, deserted parlors. She evinced no surprise when confronted by Mr. Verne. She had been calmly awaiting his presence.
"It is too early for you to be astir, Hester. I would think you might take things easy when you could. I'm sure there's nothing to get you up here—no milking and farm work as at 'Gladswood.'"
"It's second nature with me and I can't help it any more than you can help getting up with the sun and poring over those tedious papers; Stephen, I would think you ought to get sick of such work."
"So I do, Hester, but I must not let myself feel so; there may be an end far too soon."
"Stephen you are getting a monomaniac on these things. I tell you what it is if William Montgomery were in your shoes he would not last a week. Thank God, he is a farmer—there's no life like it."
"True, indeed, Hester; I wish I had become a sturdy yeoman before I gave myself up to this business. Ah! it's nothing but uncertainty."
"Listen to me Stephen; the quiet of the hour prompts me to say something which I have been thinking of for some time past—it is of Mr. Lawson."
"Yes," said Mr. Verne, in a manner that seemed to say that he knew what was coming, "he is a worthy young man!"
"Worthy, did you say, Stephen? There is no words in the English language sufficient to speak his praise. He is a man such as the Creator premeditated before the world rose out of chaos—a man in the true image of his Maker!"
Could Phillip Lawson then have looked upon this woman as she sat there and spoke such holy thoughts—how simple and yet how eloquent—could he then have heard the tenderhearted matron plead for him what a flood of gratitude would have welled out from his honest heart!
"I have invited Phillip Lawson to 'Gladswood' purposely to study him through and through, and each time I find something nobler in him to admire."
"I believe it," said Mr. Verne, gravely.
"Then pledge yourself with me to bestow upon him all that can give him the only earthly happiness he desires. Stephen, you are not blind—you know he loves your child—make the way brighter for him— give him your confidence, your encouragement, and before a twelvemonth has passed away you will be happier, Madge will be happier, and Phillip Lawson will bless you while he lives!"
Mr. Verne turned uneasily in his chair. He felt somewhat guilty of not seeking the young man's confidence the previous evening when he made allusion to Marguerite.
"Stephen, I'm no fool; I can sometimes see more than some people would like me to see—but I care little for people's opinions," said Mrs. Montgomery in a defiant mood, "I am here to say what I think is right—I care for nobody."
"I know that the young man admires Madge, but we have proof of nothing further."
"You surely cannot saythat, Stephen, and note the interest which Mr. Lawson takes in your affairs. Ah, we women can see you men through and through—you don't mean what you say."
It did not take much persuasion to gain Mr. Verne as an ally to the cause so dear to the woman's heart.
Now what suggestions Mrs. Montgomery made to her brother-in-law and his acquiescence, the whole-hearted management and cleverness, also delicacy of plans, we do not care to reveal, suffice to say, that the plans were matured and put into execution from that hour, and that there were those who lived to thank Mrs. Montgomery with all the fervor of their hearts.
Mr. Verne was indeed happier from the light-hearted manner in which Mrs. Montgomery strove to entertain him and relieve the monotony of his busy life. "Sunnybank" had been closed from society for several months. No guests desecrated the stillness of the deserted drawing-room, and save the occasional calls of a few business men, "all around was quietness."
"I will make a change," said Mrs. Montgomery, and a change was made. Phillip Lawson found time to drop in two or three evenings of the week, and when the gentlemen were engaged over their game of chess, there would suddenly steal upon their senses a fragrance that portended hot delicious coffee, not to speak of the choice rolls and delicate cheesecake.
Mr. Lawson was truly at home in Mrs. Montgomery's society. He admired her independent spirit and correct judgment as to what should constitute society in its wholesome state; he listened with eagerness to her exposition of the shame and rottenness of good form and the consequent evils arising from them.
One evening they were enjoying the refreshing breeze that stirred the leafy shrubberies at "Sunnybank." Coolness reigned everywhere, within and without. The halls were redolent with heliotrope, and breath of roses, the hour was inviting and the conversation was spirited.
Mrs. Montgomery, clad in her silken gown, was indeed fitted to pass close criticism. She was sensible looking, neat and respectable, and her genial warmth of manner formed no secondary consideration.
"It is disgraceful to society to tolerate it," said Mrs. Montgomery. "I should like to see a girl of mine receive attention from such a man, and to think of his going to Mrs. M.'s company utterly incapable. Had I been there I would have insulted him before the company."
"It is just as well that you were not," said Mr. Verne, smiling.
"We country people are verdant, Stephen, but thank heaven we escape yourgood-formstyle that is ruinous both to body and soul," said Mrs. Montgomery with considerable vehemence. "Our young women are educated to a sense of their position, and to demand that respect which they ought. Ugh! just for one moment imagine a young man of loose immoral habits seated inourparlor. Why the very thought of it makes one sicken with disgust."
"Hester, if we had a few such women as you there would be a sweeping moral reform throughout our land," said Mr. Verne, vehemently. "Yes, we would have such a wholesome state of things as would entail a world of happiness to succeeding generations."
"I tell you one thing, Stephen, there would be no living beyond one's means; neither this abominable keeping up of appearances, which has possessed two-thirds of our people, and which is the cause of nearly all the misery and degradation that we hear of every day of our lives—and those mothers and daughters will be held responsible for the souls of the suicides who were goaded to the rash deed by their doings! Yes, Stephen, I say it, and hold to it, that it is our women who are at the root and bottom of these horrible misdeeds."
"It is true in a great measure, Hester," said Mr. Verne, his face betraying evident emotion—his voice strange and his manner altogether changed.
Mrs. Montgomery's words had a powerful effect. They took deeper root than she intended and the woman felt a strange misgiving at her heart. "What if he might seek refuge in such," thought she, and a feeling of revulsion passed through her which was in nowise comforting.
Mr. Verne seemed to anticipate her thoughts. "It is an unpleasant subject, and can do little good for either," said he, trying to force a smile.
"Yes, Stephen; I can bear your reproof, for I am too hot-headed. I need a strong pull in the opposite direction to set me right."
The sound of domestics astir suggested employment, and Mrs. Montgomery set forth to superintend affairs with more concern than the real mistress. In fact, there had been a sad want of attention to matters in general. There was an apparent lack of system and good management that only such an one as Mrs. Montgomery could set right.
"I want you to do it this way," was her order, and it was done.
An untidy chambermaid had been dismissed, and the cook was given her choice to retrench in the enormous waste or find a new field for such extravagance.
It was indeed surprising what a change had been wrought during Mrs.Montgomery's first week at "Sunnybank."
"And to think of her coming from such charitable motives. The woman is a host in herself." Such was Mr. Verne's comment as he began to see how affairs were managed on the reconstruction plan, when even the parlor seemed to admit the beneficial change.
"I shall have to attend a meeting of the Board of Trade this evening; and thinking it would be dull here, I asked Mr. Lawson to come in and bring Lottie. You know the poor child idolizes him, and it is a shame to keep him from her."
"How kind of you, Stephen. I shall be delighted to see Lottie; she is a sweet child. It really does me good to see the young man pet his little charge and minister to her wants with the delicacy of a woman. I tell you there are few men that will compare with Phillip Lawson."
Mrs. Montgomery was determined that she would let no opportunity escape when she could say a word in her friend's praise. "They will thank me one day for it," said she to herself, as she turned leisurely towards a pot of heliotrope and stood inhaling the sweet fragrance.
"The Board of Trade to-night. No rest for the overwrought brain! What a pity that our women, Instead of decking themselves out for hours before a life-sized mirror, and when arrayed like peacocks amble into drawing-rooms or conservatories to listen for so many hours to the idiotic, half-formed expressions of the semi-monkeys who answer to the fashionable appellation of dudes, should not give themselves some fit employment. Oh, dear me! thank Heaven I'm not a society woman, and still better, that none of my family can lay claim to the title."
As Mrs. Montgomery made the last part of her remark, she thought of her first-born, the sweet, but bright-spirited Jennie, who was always ready for fun and amusement and never was happier than when administering to the wants of her fellow creatures.
Jennie Montgomery was also a maiden of sound intellectual ability. Her fund of reading was extensive. She never allowed a day to pass without devoting two hours to good solid reading. Pope was a constant friend, as was also Wordsworth, and few could give a better exposition of the mental depth of this metaphysical poet, his self-knowledge and his keen realization of the depth of such knowledge.
But of the expected guests. It was indeed a red-letter day forLottie Lawson when Phillip announced his intention of taking her to"Sunnybank."
"Oh! Phillip," cried she in ecstasies of delight, her saucy curls dancing around the pretty head, "and I shall see Mrs. Montgomery; was there ever such a lucky girl as I?" and the bright eyes danced with joy and eagerness. "Goodness gracious! it's almost too good news to be true. Phillip, what shall I wear? Dear me, if I had only known I would have made Kitty do up my white lawn."
The little maiden's countenance had suddenly changed from great joy to dismay, and the indulgent brother was much amused.
"I don't think it will make much difference to Mrs. Montgomery, so long as your dress is neat," said he smiling, then added, "I hope my little sister has not commenced to be vain already. It is too soon, my dear."
"Indeed I am not quarter as bad as the other girls," replied the little miss. "I wish you could see how they dress for school; why Nellie Bliss wears a different dress every afternoon, and to-day she had one with the greatest lot of lace ruffles."
"Well, well, my dear, let Nellie enjoy her ruffles, and LottieLawson be a sensible little girl."
As the brother fondled the fairy-like child, he thought of the inherent weakness that showed itself thus and exclaimed as the little form was beyond hearing, "the ruling passion truly," he paused, then added, "with most women."
To say that Lottie Lawson enjoyed herself at "Sunnybank" would be speaking too mildly. Even the dogs gave her welcome, romping, playing and frisking till warned to restrain their unwonted hilarity.
An oil painting of Marguerite Verne made the child clap her hands with delight.
"Oh, it is just like her! It seems as if Miss Verne were speaking to us," cried she, getting as near to the portrait as she possibly could. "I can imagine myself in Sunday-school now and our dear teacher among us. When do you expect her, Mrs. Montgomery?"
The bright eyes had a wistful look and gave the piquant face a thoughtful tone.
"I cannot say, my dear, but we hope we may expect her soon."
The eager eyes favored the portrait with occasional glances while the white fingers ran over the keys of the piano.
A pleasant evening was thus spent and Lottie was delighted when it was arranged that she would be allowed to pass many such pleasant hours during Mrs. Montgomery's stay at "Sunnybank."
"How thoughtful," was Mr. Verne's comment as he heard the voices in the parlor on his return.
Phillip Lawson with a pang at his heart could not but notice the wearied look upon Mr. Verne's face, also the stooping form which once had been erect and majestic, and his sympathetic look could not escape the eagle eye of Mrs. Montgomery.
"Business is business, my boy," said Mr. Verne as he bade his guests good-night.
"Yes sir, it is all business these hard times. Business is business," and musing thus Phillip Lawson went on his way, so busied in thought that he scarce heeded the prattle of the child at his side.
Four weeks had passed away and Mrs. Montgomery still presided at "Sunnybank." The days were spent in a variety of ways that tended to one grand end and that for the best.
Lottie Lawson was blithe as a bee, humming little snatches of song and often cheering the rooms by her presence.
An important functionary among the domestics was Melindy JaneThrasher, the happyfianceeof Mr. Moses Spriggins.
Melindy Jane took much pride in informing her fellow-laborers that "she had been engaged to work with the Verneses all through the Montgomeryses, for she had seen the first Miss Verne along with her intended up to the upper neighborhood at church, and she and a hull lot of the young folks came out from Mill Crossin' to go, and when they seed the grand folks, they'd inquired and found out all about him. Then, what do you think? dad saw an advertisement in the paper, and he rit right away and got this situation; and here I am ever since, and s'pose will be for aleetle longer" and with a knowing look Melindy Jane would draw her hearers' attention to Mr. Spriggins, and by a series of phases expatiate on her lover's manly form and weighty principles, not forgetting his importance among the good folks of Mill Crossing.
Marguerite Verne had often listened to these speeches, and stimulated Melindy Jane's eloquence by her earnest attention, and for such kindness she was eulogized in the presence of Mr. Spriggins, until the latter vowed that "that 'ere Miss Verne hadn't an equal in the Dominion."
It so happened that Melindy Jane one evening asked for an hour or two out, and the request being granted a few minutes later the happy rubicund face of Moses, beaming with smiles, illuminated the gateway as he passed through, hand-in-hand with hisfiancee.
Mrs. Montgomery was a lover of fun, and she enjoyed the sight with evident relish. Mr. Lawson's voice soon after interrupted her thoughts.
"I came near being run down by one of your family, and an old friend of mine," cried he, his manner bright and cheerful, "I did not know that Mr. Spriggins was paying his addresses to anyone in this house."
"If you saw him, Mr. Lawson, you would soon be convinced of his honorable intentions. Indeed, Mr. Spriggins is an attentive lover, and in every way worthy of Melindy."
"He is one of the best fellows I ever met," said Mr. Lawson, with much enthusiasm.
"You have reason to know him?" said Mrs. Montgomery, with evident surprise.
"He did me a very great service, Mrs. Montgomery, and one I can never adequately repay."
This was indeed a sudden revelation, but the lady showed good taste in her replies, and was much pleased with the knowledge that Phillip Lawson's character was made up of gratitude.
Mr. Moses Spriggins thought proper to spend a dollar or two upon Melindy "each time he came to town," and on this evening in question the happy pair might be seen on Charlotte street making glad the heart of the grocer by the extensive purchase of peanuts, peaches, pears, bananas, and every choice confection that was appreciated by Miss Melindy.
"I tell yer what, Melindy, if I was a-livin' in town I'd live. I'd buy them fellars out in less than no time," exclaimed Moses, as a fair-sized banana disappeared from view at one gasp. "Tell you what it is, Melindy, them fellars makes a fortin' out of this stuff; by golly, it's good." A fact which was evident from the gusto resorted to in mastication.
"Thunder! what's that purty thing a-hangin' out in front of that 'ere stoppin' place? Look Melindy."
"Why you goosey, that is the Royal Hotel light—the electric light."
Melindy pronounced the three words with an air of pride, which indeed seemed to say "please bear in mind that I am no ignoramus."
"Wal, I do declare, if that aint the highfalutin' light they were a-tellin' about up to Wiggleses t'other night."
This was an unlucky speech for Mr. Spriggins. Melindy's face was black as Erebus in less than a minute and her eyes fairly darted fire.
"Don't mention those Wiggleses agin Mose, or as sure as my name isMelindy Jane Thrasher, I'll never speak to you agin!"
"Now, listen to me, Melindy, I was a-goin' to tell you that I only went up to Wiggleses to borrow a crosscut from Josiar. True as I live I w'ant inside the gate for I met Josiar a-comin' out o' the milkin' yard and I then and there ups and tells him what I was arter."
During this conversation the unconscious pair had gained the foot of King street and turned up Prince William street toward Chipman's Hill where they took a stand.
"And you got the crosscut at the gate?" asked the perturbed Melindy, rather timidly.
"I did, you dear old gal. Now, what's the use of you gettin' jealors of me and Josiar? I'm darned shure I don't be a-courtin' him."
"Don't talk so simple, Mose," said Melindy, giving her affianced an affectionate push against a large building that stood on the corner.
"If I w'ant skeered of them 'ere police chaps I do believe I'd feel tempted to kiss you in this very place!" exclaimed Moses in very pathetic style.
"I'd like to see you, Mose Spriggins, forgit yourself in such a manner—it would be the last time you would act so in my presence," returned Melindy Jane in simply bewitching tones and more bewitching gestures.
"Well, just you wait till we get back to Sunflower Dale."
"'Sunflower', a nice name to be callin' our place. I wish that Mrs. Verne heard you Moses, it would be the last time you'd poke your nose in there, I can tell ye Mister Mosey."
"Well, now see here, Melindy. I see town is makin' you too toney, what's the use of cuttin' a fellar up so when he makes a little mistake?"
"Well, say Sunnybank, and I won't be findin' any more fault."
"Well, Sunnybank! Aint that right Melindy?"
"Leave out thewell, and all will be well," said Melindy, spitefully.
"Melindy Jane Thrasher, you are a gettin' too cute for anything. That was the cutest sayin' I've heerd for a long time. If you stay in town much longer you will be able to talk with any of them lawyers that's around as thick as thieves."
"Moses be keerful what you say, for some of the same fellars might have you hauled up for definition of character, and some of them can afford to do it too, for I believe there are honest ones among 'em. Indeed, I know of one."
"And I bet I know the same chap," said Moses, jumping at the conclusion, with an accompanying exhibition of elasticity, not unworthy of the bygone arena, and then added, "and we both of us seed him this 'ere evenin'. Aint that so, eh, Melindy?"
"There, don't be silly, Moses," said the half-indignant Melindy, pouting her ripe red lips, and trying to look very prim.
When Melindy wished to administer reproof to her betrothed she always addressed him as Moses, a circumstance which had a very chilling effect upon the offender.
"Well, I vow if it aint—speak of the old fellar and he's sure to appear," cried Moses. And instantly they were recognized by the stalwart young lawyer who was on his way homeward.
"He didn't stay long. Perhaps the missus ain't in very good humor to-night," surmised Melindy.
"Perhap's he's too busy hisself. Like as not he's off on some law scrape now. That's just it, for Court's a settin' all this week. Well I hope Mr. Lawson will get a good share of the pickins, for he's as honest as the sun, and when a fellar goes to him for advice he gets it in good English law, and no runnin' roundabout way that would puzzle a chap till his hair would turn gray."
Doubtless Mr. Spriggins would have expatiated on his friend's good qualities for a much longer time, but Melindy was not inclined to have him waste so many eulogistic speeches at her expense.
"How time goes! Well, it seems no time since we left, and here we are back agin," said Melindy, glancing up at the grand facade of "Sunnybank," which looked as pretentious as its neighbors on the same imposing terrace.
Mr. Spriggins was annoyed to think that it was only nine o'clock, and he must part with Melindy.
"You know what we used to learn in the little yellar book at home," said the latter.
"Yes, that's all very fine when a fellar hasn't anything better to do, but when a feller has sich good company, he don't think of being healthy, wealthy and wise, eh, Melindy."
"We'll not quarrel about it, anyhow," said Melindy, evidently well pleased at being reckoned such good company, then instantly exclaimed, "What time are you agoin' to start in the mornin'; perhaps you can run down, and I may have somethin' to send the folks."
A step upon the gravelled walk warned the lovers to retreat, and ere long Mr. Spriggins was wending his steps up Sydney street, muttering imprecations upon the unknown person who had so unceremoniously broken up their rendezvous.
Meanwhile Phillip Lawson was enjoying the quiet of his cosy back parlor. He was seated in his huge arm-chair enjoying theEvening Globeand a choice cigar.
Lottie Lawson had once remarked that brother Phillip might go without his tea, but he could not sleep without seeing theGlobe. And the little maid was right, for nothing is more inviting for the hurried man of business, the politician, the professional or the student than the perusal of the evening paper. Look into the counting-rooms, the offices, the libraries—aye, even the brilliantly-illuminated parlors—and you will in each find your answer.
But we must turn to our legal friend. As Mr. Spriggins surmised, it was court week, and a very busy one for Mr. Lawson. Brighter prospects were now in store. Prosperity had dawned upon the untiring student, and he looked forward with encouraging hopes.
"Thank God I am here yet," was the young man's exclamation, as he threw aside the paper and began to ruminate upon his prospects in general.
Strange to say he did not harbor ill-will to Hubert Tracy. He pitied him with a tender pity, and mourned for the wreck of a life that had such a good beginning. But Mr. Lawson had a feeling of enmity towards his contemporaries in the far west. He could ill repress the angry feelings that arose when the scheme presented itself in all its horrid reality.
"What ground for bringing the gang to the scratch and making a startling expose of our legal brethren; yes, nice brethren too."
No wonder that Mr. Lawson felt ashamed of his fraternity. If the shades of Coke and Blackstone could only arise—what a reckoning would be made. What a scene—aye, one that would need a Milton to describe.
Thoughts akin to these were passing through the young lawyer's mind when he suddenly recalled the cause. The heavy brows are contracted and a scowl appears. "The wicked flourish for a season and so may you, my happy friends, but your happiness is not of the enduring kind." Another scowl. "But if he succeeds I am miserable," muttered Phillip Lawson, his countenance betraying deep agitation. "But I will not suffer her to become a sacrifice. Heaven forbid."
There was determination in the tone and in the gesture which accompanied it.
There was indeed to be a struggle between right and wrong, and a bitter struggle, too, but an All-Wise Providence rules over all, and disposes of events in an inscrutable order, and in the way He foreordains for His own glory.
It is necessary to explain how matters stood between Hubert Tracy and the Winnipeg solicitor.
The latter had entered heartily into the affair and was looking forward to the big bonanza that he would gain. But some weeks passed and hearing nothing further Mr. Sharpley resolved to test the matter. Receiving no answer to the first letter he despatched a second and was surprised to receive it re-addressed to himself. What did it mean? Had Mr. Lawson removed to another field or had Hubert Tracy played false?
The solicitor then wrote an acquaintance making some modest inquiries concerning Mr. Lawson's whereabouts and was further surprised to find that he was still in St. John, also that he was prospering in the profession and would one day rank as one of the leading practitioners there.
Mr. Sharpley then directed his interrogations across the sea and much chagrined charged Mr. Tracy with duplicity. But it was the latter who felt the most non-plussed. He cursed Phillip Lawson from the bottom of his heart and hoped that he might live to crush him in the dust.
"Fool that I was to listen to his palaver!" cried he, "when I could have contrived some means to silence him most effectually. It is just what I deserve. He will dog my steps to the bitter end if I cannot accomplish my work very soon."
It was while Hubert Tracy was being thus humiliated that he received a summons from Mrs. Montague Arnold and hailed it as an omen of success.
The interview was lengthy and boded no good to Marguerite.
"Depend upon me, Hubert," cried the heartless young matron as she graciously extended the tips of her taper fingers and smiled her most enchanting smile which the young gallant more than graciously acknowledged as he sprang into the cab awaiting him at the end of the court-yard.
A few moments later he was at the club, and surrounded by a host of the most abandoned profligates he joined in the ribaldry and obscene jests with a zeal that betrayed the utter depravity of his habits, and also shewed that he had taken a headlong plunge into the vortex and must soon become a hopeless wreck. And yet a short time ago, so fair to look upon, Hubert Tracy had been indeed prepossessing in appearance. His neat, well built figure, graceful but manly carriage, agreeable address and fine manners gave him a significant tone and made him much sought after in society.
There was even a pleasing expression in the young man's face that was really attractive. His chestnut locks of silken hair clustering in luxuriant ringlets were indeed the envy of the many less favored youth, while the hazel dreamy eyes, soft and expressive as a woman's, seemed to suggest that they had once been the pride of an indulgent mother and kind friends.
"Zounds, Tracy my fellow, you're going all to sticks! What the devil is up? Why, you look as if you had been trailed through seven cities—got the blues,—eh?"
"Worse than that, Turpin. I'm in a fair way for the Old Bailey."
"The deuce you are!" exclaimed the latter, who owing to several sharp feats performed upon some members of the club, was dubbed Turpin.
Mr. Turpin was a lucky kind of mortal who had a propensity for living on the funds of his more fortunate friends and always kept an eye to Mr. Tracy.
The latter was lavish in expenditure and thought it a streak of luck to have an individual like Turpin to cater to his caprice and assist in making his every day life free from remorse or anything approaching to it.
"'Jordan is a hard road to travel,' eh Dick?" said Hubert Tracy as he raised the cocktail to view and stood gazing upon it, then swallowing the contents, as if anxious to get through the job, exclaimed, "Heavens Dick, I wish that were the last drink on this side of Jordan," and after a desperate effort to appear at ease the young man left his rollicking set and sought his apartments in Regent Square.
While Mr. Verne sat in his office in Water street, busy as usual on his exchanges, etc, an individual was making his way thither at a rapid gait, which, in fact, bore more closely to business than grace.
The individual was Mr. Spriggins of Mill Crossing. Any one keeping close behind the said gentleman might have heard the following soliloquy.
"Well, sir, I'm deuced glad I didn't let on to Melindy, for like all wimen she'd be a peekin' to see what it was. It's terrible queer that not one of 'em is better than another. Still we can't get along without 'em, nohow."
Here Mr. Spriggins emphasized the remark by a shrug of his herculean shoulders, and allowed himself to think what a blank this world would be without Melindy.
"Wal, I reckon them bisness fellars have so many papers, round that its 'tarnal queer they don't loose money, but ten to one this 'ere thing don't amount to a goose egg."
Mr. Spriggins had now gained the office, and with smiling countenance inquired for Mr. Verne.
A genial "come in" from the inner office inspired our friend with additional confidence.
Mr. Verne bowed in a respectful manner, and taking off his gold-rimmed spectacles motioned the young man to a seat.
"Good morning, sir," said the latter, feeling somewhat embarrassed as how to begin.
"It is fine weather, indeed," returned Mr. Verne, pleasantly.
"Its no use delayin'," thought Moses, "I'll make a bold dash," and jumping up from his seat, exclaimed, "You're Mister Verne that lives in the big house on that high bank up there by the square?"
"Yes, sir," said the latter, respectfully.
"Well, sir, did you ever see this 'ere piece of writin' afore, I picked it up near your house, and supposin' it were your'n I brought it here."
Mr. Spriggins placed the document in Mr. Verne's hand, and the latter glanced at it carelessly at first, and was about to return it to his visitor, when his eye fell upon the following:
"We can make him appear so guilty that all the laws under heaven could not clear him. Two thousand dollars would be a sum sufficient to entrap him. If he is as trusting as you say, the easier will be the job to do it. At any rate, Connors can finish what I undertake— that is the silencing forever of that law sprig."
"Just be seated for a few minutes, sir," said Mr. Verne. "I think this is to me a very important document."
Mr. Spriggins was now quite at home. He took in the surroundings with an air of interest, and became on terms of intimacy with the handsome spaniel that lay near him.
Mr. Verne's hand trembled violently as he re-read the letter. He was deeply agitated, but fortunately the fact escaped Mr. Spriggins' notice.
"I am deeply indebted to you, sir," said Mr. Verne, addressing his visitor. "I trust some day I shall be able to repay you."
There was an earnestness in the tones and also a look of gratitude that made Mr. Spriggins feel a sudden sensation in his throat—a suffocation which made it impossible to reply—the big heart was full to overflowing.
"This is an honest creature," thought Mr. Verne as he pretended not to observe his benefactor's emotion.
Mr. Spriggins rose to go when suddenly Mr. Verne exclaimed "this is not going to be our last meeting Mr. Spriggins," (the latter had introduced himself previous to this) "I want to see you the next time you are in the city. Remember you are welcome at my house any time that you call. Don't forget to come."
Mr. Verne received a more than hearty grasp of Moses' iron hand and graciously escorted him to the door where he disappeared muttering along the street, "By hokey, I'm the luckiest chap in all Christendom. There's no knowin' but what I may turn out to be the biggest gun among 'em yet."
On his way home that day the hilarity of Mr. Spriggins was unbounded. Even the canine denizens of the district through which he passed received compliments of no secondary order, and to quote his own expression "he was the happiest fellar between town and Mill Crossin'." But we must return to Mr. Verne.
About an hour after Mr. Spriggins' departure he is seated in the library at "Sunnybank" waiting summons to luncheon.
"What is the matter with your time in the office, Stephen?" said Mrs. Montgomery with an amused look upon her face. Mr. Verne glanced at his watch.
"I made a mistake of an hour," said he absent-mindedly. "Poor man," thought Mrs. Montgomery, "it is no wonder," and then hurrying off to give orders for an early meal, left him to the misery of his own thoughts.
But this time they were not distracting ones. Mr. Verne had in his possession proof of the baseness of Hubert Tracy and his legal accomplices, and the more he thought of it the more puzzled he was.
How did the letter get in the vicinity of "Sunnybank." It certainly had been in the possession of some person or persons since it had been received by Hubert Tracy, as he had now been abroad for nearly three months. Had it fallen into Mr. Lawson's hands? Could it be possible that he had thus been warned of this conspiracy and changed his course of action?
Mr. Verne thought over the matter and a light seemed to dawn upon him. He remembered of hearing his young friend making some inquiry as regards the affairs of a well known legal firm that had left St. John and earned a well-deserved reputation in the far west. He also thought of certain transactions which went to prove that at times Mr. Lawson's prospects were indeed sadly blue, and that, doubtless, Hubert Tracy had taken advantage of those occasions to hold up the tempting bait.
"Base scoundrel," muttered Mr. Verne with set teeth. "Providence has not allowed him to ruin a noble life."
Mr. Verne was not blind to outward circumstances. He knew full well what had prompted the deed, and he shuddered as he thought of his guileless child associated with such a character. He was in a quandary as to what steps to take that he could ward off suspicion.
Mr. Verne wished to keep the affair a secret until he could have further ground for action. He knew that Mrs. Montgomery would be a sure ally, but second thoughts prompted him to say nothing of the matter just then, so he calmly supped his coffee at luncheon and talked over certain little plans with more than ordinary interest.
"Mr. Lawson is much engaged lately," remarked Mrs. Montgomery, as she passed a second fragrant cup of coffee to Mr. Verne; "he only had time to make a short call last evening. I forgot to tell you before."
"What is the matter, Stephen, you look alarmed or surprised or some such way that I cannot describe," said the woman, glancing again at her brother-in-law.
"I must give you credit for having more of the imaginative than I thought, Hester," said Mr. Verne, trying to cover his agitation with an accusation.
"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not, Stephen," said Mrs. Montgomery helping herself to another of the delicious cheese cakes, the pride of the time-honored cook at "Sunnybank."
"You were speaking of Mr. Lawson, Hester. What had he to say?"
"Nothing of much consequence, only that he was much occupied during the week. He seemed in such good spirits that I told him that he must have fleeced some poor mortal unmercifully."
"Hester you are a dreadful woman. It is a good thing that people don't mind what you say."
"It would make little difference to me whether they would or would not, Stephen. I shall always say just what my evil thoughts prompt me to say, and as you remark that is considerable."
In justice to Mrs. Montgomery, we might as well here add, that what she said or did, was in a conscientious way. No slander could ever be traced to her nor could anything that savored of deception find a place in this honest woman's heart.
"But to return good for evil," said Mrs. Montgomery, "I asked Mr.Lawson to let Lottie go home with me."
"Home?" questioned Mr. Verne, in surprise.
"Yes, Stephen, I cannot stay much longer. The fall work is coming on. Jennie is a host in herself, but I must not impose upon good nature."
"Jennie Montgomery is a rare jewel; and I least of all should insist upon your staying longer. You have, indeed, done much for me."
"Stop, Stephen, I am not going to listen to any such stuff. Indeed, it's a pity I could not come down to amuse myself for a while without you having such notions. The fact is, I needed change of air, and now having a sufficient store to subsist upon for the next half year, think I had better make tracks."
"Did you think of it yesterday, Hester?"
"To be honest with you, Stephen, I scarcely thought of it until the sight of good-natured Moses Spriggins reminded me I had a snug little nest in Kings County, and had better fly away to it."
"Spriggins, did you say, Hester?" queried Mr. Verne, in a manner that showed that the name had been hitherto associated in his mind.
"Yes, sir, I said Spriggins. Did you not know that Melindy Jane Thrasher has a suitor who calls as regularly as he comes to the city?"
Mr. Verne laughed cheerily, a circumstance which was so unusual that the domestics in the basement were on thequi viveto see what was the matter.
"And you happened to interrupt the lovers I suppose," remarked Mr.Verne in his quaint dry way.
"I did nothing of the kind, Stephen. I met Moses on the landing. I tell you what it is, I have great respect for Moses Spriggins. Yes, for every one of the family," said Mrs. Montgomery in an earnest and respectful manner.
"They live near you Hester?"
"About ten miles, perhaps not so far. Simon Spriggins raised a large family, but there are only two of the boys at home now, and Nell Spriggins is a nice looking girl. I tell you their home is neat and tasteful, although not very showy."
"It seems quite a coincidence that the same Moses Spriggins should have occasion to call at the office to-day—"
"To ask for Melindy Jane Trasher, I suppose," cried Mrs. Montgomery, with as much merriment as a young girl.
"He was merely conveying an important message," said Mr. Verne, "and in course of conversation I was quite interested."
"Moses is one of the best hearted creatures for miles around. He is often imposed upon when anything in the shape of tea meetings or bazaars are on the go."
"All's well that ends well," said Mr. Verne, rising from the table quietly.
"Quite a digression," murmured Mrs. Montgomery, as she touched the gong and arose from her seat.
Within the sanctity of his private apartments Mr. Verne now saw clearly how matters stood. He was convinced that Phillip Lawson had been in possession of the letter and that he had dropped it while going or coming from "Sunnybank," and that Moses Spriggins, following in his footsteps, had picked it up.
"Truly, indeed, 'God moves in a mysterious way,'" mused Mr. Verne as he glanced at the crumpled paper, "and to think they have been foiled in the outset. To think that I have entertained such a monster, and to have heard him applauded until I was nigh sick. Heavens! if there be a retributive justice it shall surely be meted out to that accursed viper, Hubert Tracy."
The compressed lips and fierce scowl gave expression to the anger within, and showed that when once aroused Stephen Verne was "a foeman worthy of his steel."
He deliberated long upon his young friend's magnanimity.
"Lawson is a man of ten thousand, else he would have had the satisfaction of seeing the whole gang reap their reward. Aye, lynching is too good for them, the scoundrels. But the time will come when they'll be found out, for they'll not stop at that," and in clear distinct tones Mr. Verne repeated the following lines:—
"Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all."
Mrs. Montgomery was not satisfied with Mr. Verne's evasiveness. Like most women she had a fair share of curiosity, and now she was doubly curious.
"It's no earthly use to try to sift Stephen, for he's as firm as a granite bowlder; but one thing is certain, there's something in the wind just now—something in which Mr. Lawson and Moses Spriggins are both concerned, though either or both may be unaware of it. Let me see," continued Mrs. Montgomery, elevating her eyebrows, and looking very much like a lawyer when he has his client's opponent in the witness stand. "Mr. Lawson was here last night and left early. Moses Spriggins was here also, and left later. Now, as to what took Moses to the office that's where the mystery is, and that there is one I am as certain as the head is on my body."
One good trait in Mrs. Montgomery's character was that she never lost confidence in a friend until she had the most positive proof of his guilt, her honest nature was slow to believe in the worst side of humanity.
"Whatever it is," murmured she, "it is the doings of some other parties, for both are above suspicion."
The entrance of Mr. Verne put an end to the soliloquy, but did not drive away the subject, and when the latter was safely out of hearing, Mrs. Montgomery exclaimed to herself "I see plainly that Stephen is deeply agitated. He seldom carries that look. It is something of an uncommon nature that has aroused him. He thinks he hides his secret whatever it be, but poor Stephen is not schooled in the ways of deception, and in the end it is better so." And repeating the words, "'tis better so," the whole-hearted woman was soon occupied over the ways and means of domestic economy.
Much as we would like to follow other friends we cannot yet leave Phillip Lawson. He is now in great trouble having met with a loss that is great.
"I might have known that it was too much good fortune for me," cried the young man in sad and pathetic voice. "Fool that I was to carry it about when I was so lucky for once in my life."
Phillip Lawson was the picture of despondency. A heavy cloud had settled down just as all had promised fair and now all was darkness and gloom, not a ray of hope pierced the grim portals which had closed so suddenly upon him.
He thought of the Tuscan poet and wondered if it were possible that his bitter experience had called forth that direful inscription—
"Abandon hope all ye who enter here."
"Ah, my life is Hades! I look for none other!" cried Phillip, his mind now in an unsettled state and ready almost to doubt truth and revelation.
"I have tried hard to lead a good moral life, to live according to the teachings of the Golden Rule and to live with God's help in accordance with the teachings of His holy doctrine, and why is it that I am thus hardly dealt with?"
We cannot blame our young friend if he be somewhat rebellious. His faith is sorely tried and he is at first found wanting; but unlike many others who have gone down under the weight of the angry billows, stems the torrent and with his eye straight for the beacon light reaches the haven in safety.
"I believe that some good may yet spring from it. Hubert Tracy will not have the power to injure my reputation. He may succeed for a time, but there is a Nemesis cruel as death."
Phillip repeated these words as if he were the avenging Deity himself and the hoarseness of his voice made them sound doubly prophetic.
"If they could only have passed into Mr. Verne's hands instead of mine it would have been better for all parties; but what's the use of talking."
Phillip looked sad and careworn, aye, ten years older than on the previous night, and had Mrs. Montgomery looked in upon him then she would surely have been more perplexed than ever.
"It will never do for me to be hunting around the doors at 'Sunnybank.' For the life of me I cannot see how such a thing could have happened."
For the sake of explanation we must admit that our legal friend had a failing which often turned out disastrously for himself and at times for others—he was simply speaking—absent-minded, but bear in mind it was only outside of business matters. As a clear thinker Mr. Lawson had no superior, he was equal to any question, running over with brilliant repartee and thoughtful speech.
It was only when the office door was closed and business suspended that he was guilty of this weakness, and as it on this occasion, caused him to suffer much from the consequence we hope to prove that he had overcome it. The fact was the paper had slipped between the folds of his handkerchief when he had taken it to brush off some dust that persistently adhered to his coat sleeve. There was another view of the matter from a more jubliant source, Mr. Moses Spriggins.
The latter toiled away in the ten acre lot at Mill Crossing in the happy thought of some day being "as big a gun as the rest of 'em," and with the kindness received from Mr. Verne the happy climax was almost reached.
"Would'nt it be great," mused Moses as he followed the plough in the field above referred to, "if when Melindy and myself go to town that we would put up at them 'ere Verneses. Golly it would make the Wiggleses eyes stick out furder than ever. They're a jealous lot at the best o' times, and its sich a silly idear for Melindy to be a-naggin' at me for goin' there when I never go nearer than the rickety old gate."
Mr. Spriggins was evidently taking on a few airs for he seemed quite exasperated and ready to battle against such aspersions. Instantly his face became radiant as the noonday sun, and he burst forth in rapturous strains—
"What a man I would be and what sights I would seeIf I had but ten thousand a year,"
until the hills and dales in the vicinity of Mill Crossing caught up the refrain and all nature seemed to rejoice.
"What's the use of wishin'? it won't bring the ten thousand any more than I could turn that old millstream yonder tother way. But what's the odds so long as yer happy?" and once more there floated on the breeze—
"If I had butonethousand a year."
"Yes sir, I'd be content," exclaimed Mr. Spriggins, as he finished the last stanza and took a vigorous pull at his pipe as means of reconciliation with his present circumstances.
"And, by-the-bye, I must go up to Ned Joneses to-night and talk him into that business. It aint any sense for Ned and me to be a keepin' up spite 'cause the old folks want ter. No sir, not this child, anyhow."
Between eulogizing and soliloquizing Moses' morning wore into evening and having hitched up the old mare he set off for the post office—a spot doubly endeared to him since Melindy Jane Thrasher went to service, since which time there regularly arrived every Monday evening a suspicious letter addressed:—
MR. MOSES SPRIGGINS,Mill Crossin',Kings County, N. B. In haste.
Imagine the surprise of our friend on being presented with three whole letters—nothing more, nothing less—and one was addressed "Moses Spriggins, Esq."
"I wouldn't take that as a joke, nohow, Mose," said a lugubrious looking individual, whose face looked as if it had been playing "I spy" with a tallow candle and got the worst of the battle.
"Bet your life on it it's no joke; you're jest right Zeb, it's real down airnest; the fellow that rit that ain't one of your jokin' consarns."
Mr. Spriggins glanced over Melindy's letter to see if she was in good "speerits," and being more than satisfied, broke open the seal of the second one, which was from Mr. Verne.
It was written in a large and legible hand, and was couched in the most simple language, and ended with a request that the finding of the paper should be kept secret until such time as he (Mr. Verne) should see fit to acknowledge it. "I do not doubt you, Mr. Spriggins, only you might carelessly let it be made known among your friends."
When Moses read these lines he was more than delighted. They expressed such confidence in him that he felt so proud, to quote his own expression, "that he wouldn't claim relationship with the Attorney Gin'ral."
The third letter which drew our friend's attention, was a notice from the Dominion Safety Fund Company, which almost gave as much pleasure as the other, for in it lay, as Moses expressed it, "a big bonanzer one of these days."
But Moses was not destined to live many days in a perpetual ray of sunshine.
Mrs. Spriggins was a motherly and kind woman, careful, industrious and economical, but she had one bad habit—that of scolding.
"Mother could no more live without scoldin' than dad could live without his tobaccer," was Moses' frequent comment when beyond the old lady's hearing.
The happy first-born was dear to Mrs. Spriggins as "the apple of her eye," but he always came in for a decent share of the scolding.
"Now, what that critter is a galavantin' to town and gettin' so many letters is mor'n I can tell. Seems to me he must be neglectin' sumthin', for I tell ye things won't git along without puttin' your shoulder to the wheel." (Mrs. Spriggins had evidently heard of the fable of Sisyphus, and gave it an original translation.)
"That's all right Jerushy, but I don't think there is any danger of our Moses. He's as stiddy as a rock."
"Don't let him hear you say so, Simon, for its the worst thing in the world to be a-praisin' your own children, and a-tellin' them they're so smart, and good lookin', it makes them so ever-lastin' conseity."
Mr. Spriggins, Sr., was going to remark that there was no danger ofherchildren getting spoilt, but he knew what was best for himself, and kept a quiet tongue in his head.
The next evening after Moses had been to the post office, he became aware of the startling fact that his mother had been peeking into his trousers pocket while she rearranged his neat little room, and made it look more spicy by the addition of a set of snow-white curtains.
"'Pears to me Moses you have a lot of business agoin' on. Hope you ain't writin' to any girls but Melindy. You know anything I despise is a young man a-flirtin' with every girl he sees, and besides its not what any honest man would do. It's well enough for them 'ere city chaps that thinks no more of their word than eating their supper, to be runnin' arter every piece of calicer they see, but I tell you none of the Spriggins is agoin' to do it."
Mrs. Spriggins evidently meant what she said if one could judge from her vehemence, her snapping eyes and sharp tongue.
"Don't be skeered of me a flirtin' mother, I'll stick to Melindy while there's a button to my coat," said Moses trying hard to look very dignified.
"Well, what is all of 'em letters about?"
"What letters mother?" queried Moses, with the evident delight of extorting a confession.
"Why as I was a-hangin' up your Sunday trousers some of 'em fell out and I couldn't help a-lookin' at the writin' on the back.
"From as fine a gentleman as ever walked the streets of St. John," cried Moses quite emphatically.
"What's comin' next! You, Moses Spriggins of Mill Crossin', a ritin' letters to a gentleman. Let's hear all about it.
"I'm not at liberty to tell you jest now mother, I'm sorry to say, but it's all right."
"Am I in my sober senses or am I in a nightmare? (No, there's Mose as nateral as life.)" Then pointing her finger at the supposed culprit Mrs. Spriggins exclaimed: "I tell you what it is Moses Spriggins it's nothin' very good that you're ahidin' from your own mother. Got into them lawyer's clutches at last? Ye used ter say ye liked law and if I'm as good a prophet as I think I ort to be you'll get enough of it. Like as not the farm and the stock and all the utensils will go afore long. Oh dear me!"
Mrs. Spriggins now stopped for want of breath and fawning herself violently with the bottom of her blue gingham apron made a second onslaught.
"I tell ye what it is Mose there is no good comin' of this 'ere gallivantin' to town every t'other day, anyhow."
"Mother, if you would only have patience a few minits I might make some explanation, but you seem to want to have it your own way," said Moses, who had now determined to venture a word or two in his defence.
"Be keerful, Moses, how you speak to your own mother. It's time Ihadeverything my own way, when other folks can't manage their own affairs," said Mrs. Spriggins, with an angry toss of her head.
"Now jest listen a minit, mother, and if I'm wrong I'll give in," said Moses, trying to effect a compromise.
"Well, let's hear what you have to say for yourself; but remember, you must not palaver it up to suit yourself, or I'll soon find out—sure as my name is Jerushy Ann Spriggins."
Moses had, to a certain extent, allayed Mrs. Spriggins' fears, and brought matters to a satisfactory close, when a load knock at the front door caused the latter to utter a startling exclamation, and then run to the glass to see if her hair was parted straight.
"Gracious goodness, mother, if there ain't the greatest crowd youever saw. There's Mister and Missus Squires and Deacon Rider, andMissus Rider and little Joe Rider, and there's Huldey AmeliarDickson and Marthy Ann, and a hull lot more."
"Moses Spriggins, are you a-takin' leave of your senses to be a-standin' gapin' with your mouth open instead of runnin' to the door and a-showin' 'em into the best room, and I'm not fit to be seen. It's allus the way. If I had all my fixin's on there'd not be a soul to come, but let one sit in their old rags, and the hull country side will pop in."
Moses had not heard the last part of the speech, for in less than a minute he was at the front door, doing the honors with all the grace imaginable.
"Nell has gone to the store, but mother will be here in a few minutes, so make yourselves to hum," cried the genial host, showing the female guests the way into the spare room "to take off their bunits."
When Mrs. Spriggins appeared not a trace of the recent encounter was visible.
"Wal, Mrs. Spriggins, yer growin' younger lookin' every day," said the good old deacon as he glanced at the hostess in her best gown and black lace cap, not forgetting to admire the coquettish white linen stomacher that completed the costume.
"Deacon Rider, I'm afraid you are guilty of sayin' little fibs as well as the rest of the folks. What doyouthink, Mr. Squires?"
Mrs. Spriggins' appeal placed the minister in a trying position, and his better half came boldly to the rescue. "I tell you what it is, Mrs. Spriggins, I'm not going to allow you to get all the compliments. Just think of it, Deacon Rider drove all the way over, and never paid one of us a compliment."
"Well, well, if here ain't all the folks," exclaimed good natured Simon Spriggins, bursting into the best room with several straws clinging to his trousers—a practical illustration of attraction of adhesion.
"Missus Squires, I do declare! Why, it does one's eyes good to see you. And Missus Rider, too—I haven't seen her for an age. Why it makes me feel young agin to see one of my old beaux around. Eh, Jerushy."
"A pretty thing you, to be a-talkin' of beaux. Better go and get off your old clothes first, for you'd scare the crows."
Mrs. Spriggins then became deeply interested in the affairs of her visitors and began bustling about at a great rate, and making hosts of excuses for things "not a-lookin' as nice as they had orter, for Nell had been a-spinnin,' and they had extry work besides."
"Come, come, mother, you needn't be a-puttin' on airs now, for the folks won't believe you, nohow."
At this sally from Moses Spriggins the younger visitors set up a laugh, and the older ones smiled and said "Moses is full of fun." And after a few such preliminaries the party were ensconced in the best room, enjoying the unbounded hospitality proverbial to the Sprigginses, while Moses went up to his room to have another spell at the important letter, and as he read over for the seventh time the neatly rounded sentences, he felt that he could well afford to bear reproof for the sake of having the good will of such a man.