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There is something cowardly in fate. It blows a trumpet in front
of the fortunate, and mercilessly strikes the man who is down.

“Mr. Hicks!”

It was Mr. Hoskins, the limb of the law, who called out as he
rode from Oakhill by the gate of the virtuous Mr. Hicks, lolling on
his small porch beside the feminine Hicks, and surrounded by
numerous little Hickses—for the most part dirty-faced. The parental
Hicks were very “well off,” indeed, but he had “risen from an
humble sphere in life by his own unaided exertions,” he often said,
and his mode of living had not changed; his wife was still dowdy,
and his children unpresentable.

“Mr. Hicks!”

“Well, anything in the wind, Hoskins?”

He came out and stood at the gate.

“Old Hartright has made a new will, Mr. Hicks. I thought I
would mention it,” said Mr. Hoskins, confidentially.

“A new will?”

“Disinheriting Justin Harley out-and-out—don't leave him a foot
of land!”

Mr. Hicks knit his brows thoughtfully.

“Thought I'd mention it as I passed, Mr. Hicks. Private and
confidential, you understand, Mr. Hicks.”

“Exactly.”

“And I may as well mention it—the old man is breaking fast.”

“Ah?”

“May drop off any day. Apoplexy.”

Mr. Hicks scowled at the inoffensive road in front of Mr. Hoskins,

“You are right,” he said, replying to his own thought. “I must
foreclose the mortgages—at least £7000.”

“A trifle over.”

“They understood each other perfectly. They were talking of
Harley.

“I have looked at his wheat, Mr. Hicks, and you know the corn
and tobacco were both failures. He can't pay you interest, and
the estate is going down. A bad investment, Mr. Hicks!—a very

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bad investment indeed! I don't know what you think about it
but that's what I think.”

Mr. Hicks continued to reflect.

“A bad investment, you say, Hoskins?”

“Yes, Mr. Hicks.”

“I don't know about that, Hoskins.”

“Ah?”

“Huntsdon 'll pay it twice over—but—well, Hoskins, maybe you
are right, and it is a bad investment. Precisely, Hoskins. The
fact is, a prudent man, and the father of a family, Hoskins, it is my
duty to look to my investments. Hum!”

Their glances crossed. A slow smile dawned upon the face of
Mr. Hicks, who said:

“His uncle won't help him!”

Hoskins looked at the speaker.

“The property can be put in the market, Hoskins.”

The slow smile had broadened. Mr. Hoskins started and gazed
at Mr. Hicks.

“You are the best man of business, Mr. Hicks,” he said, with
irrepressible admiration, “that I have ever known in all the course
of my life!”

“Much obliged to you. I generally look after my affairs, Hoskins.
By the bye, are you busy?”

“No, Mr. Hicks.”

“Then you wouldn't mind getting down, Hoskins, for half-an-hour?”

“I am always ready to get down when you wish, Mr. Hicks.”

Mr. Hoskins had already vaulted from his steed.

“Come in, then. There's a trifle of rum, a good article, on the
sideboard, Hoskins. Perhaps you would like to try it when we get
through—business first, rum afterwards.”

“I am much obliged to you, Mr. Hicks. Certainly! certainly!”

“I'm rather awkward at the pen. With a man like Mr. Harley,
things must be done up polite; but make them plain! I want you
to write a letter to him, Hoskins.”

“Certainly, Mr. Hicks, certainly! It will afford me pleasure. I
should really like to see that high-headed fellow brought down a
little; and you are the man to do it, Mr. Hicks!”

Mr. Hoskins entered what Mr. Hicks called his “humble abode;”
pen, ink, and paper, also rum bottles and glasses, were produced,
and on the next day Harley received the following note:

“Justin Harley, Esq., Huntsdon.

“Sir: It is with regret that I have to state that circumstances
compel me to request payment of the amounts advanced you, on

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mortgage on the Huntsdon property. The said amounts, as per
schedule herewith enclosed, footing up, with interest, of which a
statement also accompanies this, to the sum of seven thousand two
hundred pounds, seven shillings, sixpence. (£7200 7s. 6d.)

“I will state that it would afford me pleasure to leave this money
longer in your hands, but having a payment to make, it is out of
my power to do so.

“I therefore request payment of the amount in sixty days.

Harley read the letter quietly, and sitting down, wrote a brief
note, informing Mr. Hicks that payment of the money in sixty
days was out of the question, sending the reply by the messenger.

“He is aiming to force Huntsdon into the market, and purchase
low,” he said, calmly.

Harley was not mistaken. On the next day Mr. Hicks having
sent for and availed himself of the services of Mr. Hoskins, wrote
again to Harley as follows:

“Sir: Your reply to my letter is not satisfactory. I am compelled
to raise the amount lent you on mortgage without delay. I
therefore have to notify you that legal proceedings will be duly
instituted to foreclose the mortgages, and recover the amount due
as per statement yesterday, viz, £7200, 7s. 6d.

Harley quietly put this letter in his pocket.

“Well, that is explicit,” he said, “and it really looks as if I were
ruined. Let me look things in the face. My uncle, Colonel Hartright,
has announced his intention not to carry out the wishes of
my uncle George in regard to the Glenvale property, and has no
doubt, by this time, executed a new will disinheriting me; and
now the only means left me of relieving Huntsdon from encumbrance,
and transmitting it free from debt to Sainty, as I promised
him, is taken away by this demand, which not only makes the
draining of the Blackwater Swamp impossible, but forces the sale,
at an inopportune moment, of my estate, which, under the circumstances,
will bring not more than half its value, and be bought by
Mr. Hicks. I am then landless and penniless, for the estate is not
entailed—I and Sainty—”

He stopped, mused, sighed, and added:

“Sainty! That is the saddest part! It is nothing to ruin an
old man like myself. I require little—he much; for he is in his
spring-time. Ruin! That is a harsh word. With ruined people
there is no marrying or giving in marriage!”

The words seemed to touch an open wound; he shrunk, and
turned pale.

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“This is nothing—only ruin,” he murmured. “I could bear this;
but that has quite broken me down. So there is to be no more
sunshine in my life!—I thought a little happiness was left for me
in the world—!”

He knit his brows and remained silent for a few moments. That
time was sufficient for him to regain his calmness. Gradually his
brows relaxed, his expression grew less painful, then the calm, sad
smile came back to his lips.

“Patience! patience!” he said, rising—a calm and stately young
giant, in the Indian summer sunshine—“that is, after all, the secret
of life. I will try to do my duty—I shall not be here long. Let
me be patient, and look my troubles in the face and thank God,
whether I am happy or not, that a great crime was spared me by
his all-merciful goodness—that I am not blood-guilty!”

p513-217

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