“A young man?”

“Yes.”

“What is his name?”

“Oh, Uncle Ralph,” said Sidney, desperately, seeking
a diversion of the attack, “when I was coming home from
school I saw the line fence very badly broken between the
north farm and Mr. Rice's pasture. There was nearly a
whole length down.”

“What do you say? Where was it? In what part?”
asked Ralph, with much interest.

“By the wheat field.”

“And why did you not tell me this before?”

Now Sidney had really reserved this piece of information,
which was strictly true, for the very use to which he had
applied it, and he knew not how to answer this question.

“Why did you not tell me sooner, I say?” repeated the
guardian angrily. “You have been home two hours.”

“Oh, because, sir—because—because—”

“Because you are a stupid, bad boy. Mr. Wells, this
must be seen to before dark, or the lot will be full of cattle
before morning.”

“I will go and fix it at once,” replied the farmer, hurrying
to finish his meal, and while various conjectures began
to be made as to how the accident, which was quite a
serious one in a farmer's estimation, had happened, and
whether through their fault or their neighbor's, poor Sidney
began to breathe freer and deeper, little heeding the
chiding which he had received, so that he had warded off
the dreaded, the terrible inquiry which had been begun.

But Miss Eloise had unfortunately heard the interesting
intelligence that Sidney's teacher was a young man, and
her inquisitiveness was now fully awakened.

“Is the schoolmaster handsome, Sidney?” she asked,
after her father and Mr. Wells had left the table.

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

“Oh, yes,” he replied quickly, thrown quite off his guard
by his delight at being able to answer one question freely,
and by the still greater delight of praising Addison. “O,
yes, very handsome—I never saw a handsome man.”

“Ah! a fine judge of beauty you are, I dare say,” said
Eloise, who began to imagine the teacher accompanying
his pupil home, staying to tea, and making himself generally
interesting. Handsome young men were quite the
kind of quarry she was in the habit of pursuing.

“Is he tall or short?” she continued.

“Quite tall—a good deal taller than I.”

“You, indeed! You pigmy! Why do you compare
him to yourself? You are a little boy.”

“Oh, I know that,” answered Sidney, coloring.

“Well, so this Mr. What's-his-name is both tall and
handsome. I suppose he is not very straight or graceful.”

“Yes, he is both,” answered Sidney, still quite unconscious
of the very dangerous curiosity he was awakening.

“But he dresses shabbily, and like a country bumpkin?”

“No, he does not—he dresses like a gentleman—and he
is perfectly clean and neat. His hands are as white as
yours.”

“Eloise,” said Ruth, laughing, “I think you will have
to go and call on Mary Dale soon. She lives near the
north school house.”

“Perhaps I shall,” replied the elder sister. “If I don't
others will. Mary Dale will have more calls than she ever
did before, you may depend on that.”

Although Sidney, as has been said, was not a lad of
quick perception, he could not now fail to see that his
cousin's remarks had not been mere badinage, as he had
supposed, but that she took a real interest in the subject
of her inquiries, and, in new alarm, he was about rising
from the table, when he was retained by further questions.

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

“Does this wonderful man `board around' like other
schoolmasters?” asked Eloise, in allusion to a well-known
country custom of quartering the teacher successively upon
all the families in his district, a week or two at a time.

“I don't know.”

“But wait a minute. I have forgotten what you said
his name was.”

Alas! the petard was again beneath his feet, and he had
no longer power to prevent its explosion. Tell a falsehood
he would not, and to hesitate would create suspicion.
With as careless an air as, in his agitation, he could assume,
he replied—

“Mr. Jay.”

“Jay?—Jay?” said Eloise—“it seems to me I have
heard that name before. Mother, do you know any Jays?”

“Yes, I know some Jays and some Jackdaws,” replied
Mrs. Werter, tartly. “Your father used to know a Mr.
Jay in New York—but he was a sailor, and the family
were quite low, and wretchedly poor. I don't know any
others, and I don't want to.”

“There is a very respectable family of that name in
New York,” said Eloise, in whose vocabulary the word respectable
meant rich. “I'll go and ask father immediately.”

“Oh, don't!” exclaimed Sidney, affrightedly.

It was a rash and unfortunate speech, and could not fail
to awaken suspicions.

“Why, what on earth is the matter with the child?”
exclaimed Mrs. Werter, now beginning for the first time
to manifest an interest in the discussion. “Why he is as
white as a sheet—come here, sir.”

Sidney obeyed.

“What is the reason you don't want Eloise to ask about
Mr. Jay?” she said, in a sharp, harsh voice, before which

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

the poor child had quailed for years, and which he dreaded
more than all other dreadful things.

He did not answer.

“What is the reason, I say? Do you know anything
about this man more than you have told us?”

There was no response.

“Sidney!” shrieked Mrs. Werter, in a note of awful
warning: but still the boy remained speechless, and at the
next instant the red hand of the virago rose and fell with
arrowy swiftness, and with the sound as of an exploded
pistol ringing in his ear, the stunned child staggered backward
and leaned against the wall, which was less white
than his countenance. He did not cry, he did not speak,
but there was a look of despair and submission in his pale
face, which his mistress was accustomed to and understood.

“Tell me now!” she said. “Do you know anything
more of this man than you have told?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“He is my cousin.”

Despair has no deeper tone than that in which the
orphan boy uttered this sentence—a sentence which he
well knew would at once dispel the whole brilliant vision
which had so suddenly illumined his lonely heart.

“Your cousin! What, the son of old Jay, the sailor?”

“His father was a captain.”

“A captain, indeed! His father was a beggar, and so
is he. Ruth, go and send your father here directly. He
must know about this. You may go, if you want to.”

The last sentence was addressed to Sidney, who quickly
availed himself of the permission to leave the room and
withdraw to his own little dormitory, where he was permitted
to remain undisturbed until the next morning.
Undisturbed! Alas! what could add to the torture he

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

already suffered? He felt a presentiment of his coming
doom, he knew that he should be separated from Addison,
perhaps never again to see him—never to know those other
dear friends whom he had hoped so soon to meet. It was
evening, and the bright stars were shining through the
clear, autumnal sky, affording the only light to Sidney's
room, and perhaps for that reason serving to draw his
thoughts upward, as he stood sobbing by the window, with
his raised hands upon the sash. His young spirit had
often wished to be released from earth, for that brighter
home of which he fully believed he was to be an inheritor,
through the great Mediator, but this night his heavenward
longings came upon him with increased intensity. His
faith was simple and sincere; and, although really approximating
nearer to innocence and virtue than mortals often
do, even at that tender age, yet his sense of demerit was
deep and abiding.

There was nothing mythical or mystical in Sidney's
views of Heaven; all was a solid and brilliant reality,
obscured by no clouds of doubt, dimmed by no shadows of
distrust. He gazed into the cerulean depths, and along
the glittering galaxies of stars, and believed that he saw
the exterior of that golden city, where saints and angels
walked—where his dear mother dwelt, and looked with
pitying eyes upon him, whenever sickness or suffering was
his lot. With such a faith, and with such feelings, he
knelt down and prayed long and earnestly, gazing through
blinding tears towards the material heavens, but seeing
through the sublimer vision of faith the radiant glories of
the eternal world.

Peace came in answer to prayer, and, after a night of
rest, Sidney arose prepared for and meekly expectant of
the tidings which he was not long in receiving, that he was
to see his cousin no more. His uncle professed to believe,

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

perhaps did believe, that the child had long known of
Addison's position as a teacher, and had practised deceit
and cunning to obtain permission to attend his school, for
the purpose of renewing his acquaintance with him, which
had been once positively interdicted. Ralph at least knew
that there was enough of the appearance of a plot between
the boys to counteract his authority, to justify him in
seeming greatly offended, and in the use of any harsh
measures he might choose to adopt to prevent their future
meeting.

He took pains to renew in Sidney's mind the prejudices
which he had implanted there years before against the Jay
family, whom he represented as in every way unworthy of
regard; but, although his broken-spirited ward heard him
in silence, his faith in Addison remained unshaken, and his
love for him unabated.

Nor would he believe any ill of the parents or sister of
his new friend, although he could imagine no reason why
his uncle should misrepresent them; nor could he conceive
of any person being so wicked as wilfully to malign and
slander a fellow being.

p657-048 CHAPTER VI. THE ARREST AND RELEASE.

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

Addison Jay sought his school-room at an early hour
on the morning after parting with his young cousin, and
awaited his arrival with contending feelings of fear and
hope. Long and often he looked down the road which led
to Mr. Werter's residence, and watched with painful anxiety
the successive appearance of his pupils in the distance,
thinking each new comer might be Sidney, and, when undeceived
by a nearer approach, again fastening his eyes and
hopes upon another more remote figure, only to be again
disappointed.

When the school hour came without bringing the object
of his wishes, he turned with a heavy heart to his duties,
foreboding the worst, yet not worse than the reality. For
a day or two he hoped against hope, that his cousin might
yet appear, and that only some temporary illness had
detained him at home; but, when forced to relinquish even
this belief, he boldly resolved to go to Mr. Werter's house,
and make inquiries after his missing scholar.

It required some courage for the boy-tutor to do this,
for from infancy he had looked upon Sidney's guardian as
a cross and severe man; and he smiled as he found himself
mentally picturing him again, accompanied by those fieree
canine attendants, which were the terror of his childhood.
He went, but it need not be said only to meet with the
coldest repulse from Ralph, whom only he saw, and whom
he met on his grounds before reaching the house. He

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

scarcely listened to Addison's self-introduction and inquiry,
before he sneeringly replied—

“What do you teach in your school, young man, besides
deceit and disobedience to parents and guardians? I think
one day's lessons to Sidney will suffice in these branches,
for he is an apt scholar.”

Addison began an indignant reply, zealous to exculpate
both himself and his cousin from so unfounded a charge,
but he was cut short.

“You may go—I have other business to attend to, and
I do not wish to hear you.”

“But you do me great injustice, sir, and I wish to
explain.”

“I want no explanations—I advise you to go, sir. If
you cannot get scholars without going about enticing little
children—out of your district, too—then, perhaps, you had
better try some other business.”

“Mr. Werter!” exclaimed Addison, so swelling with
rage at this taunting and ridiculous accusation, that he
could find no words with which to reply, excepting one that
he would not use. He longed to call him by the comprehensive
name which so much falsehood deserved.

“You had better go,” repeated Ralph, with a cold sneer.
“Don't make it necessary for me to complain to your trustees,
and spoil your business, which seems to be none too
good.”

“I will go from the presence of such a paltry old
wretch,” said Addison, desperately, his fine eyes flashing
with the electrical light of wrath. “Any words that could
move a man, would be thrown away upon you. You may
do your worst.”

The young man turned away as he spoke, but Ralph,
pale with rage, stepped quickly after him, raising his cane
as he did so, and ordering him off.

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

Perhaps he did not mean to strike, but wished to impose
the indignity of the threat upon young Jay, and at least
seem to drive him away. But he mistook the spirit of his
visitor, who no sooner perceived the assault than he turned
quickly around and stood still, with a face of ashy whiteness,
it is true, but with features full of a warning expression.

Ralph read them not, for his upraised cane came down,
grazing the shoulder of the youth, while, so quick it
seemed almost simultaneous with the blow, the stick was
sent whirling through the air, and the old man was rolling
down the side of a steep hillock, upon the edge of which
they had stopped, and was received in a shallow pool of
water at its base. Addison had not struck him—nothing
could have tempted him to such an act—he had only
wrenched from him his weapon, while his assailant's catastrophe
was owing entirely to a misstep backward on the
hillside, combined, doubtless, with his own great agitation.

With the promptings of a generous nature, young Jay
instantly hastened to the side of his vanquished adversary,
but all offers of assistance were angrily refused, with many
threats of revenge.

Having satisfied himself that Werter was not seriously
hurt, Addison left him and returned homeward, not a little
grieved at an adventure so untoward, and which might
be used by his malicious opponent so greatly to his
detriment.

Poor, and without influential friends, he had made a
violent enemy of a rich and unscrupulous man, and what
amount of evil, both to himself and all whom he most loved,
might he not expect to result from his imprudence. He
feared the worst—and it came.

In his school-room on the morrow, in the midst of his
wondering and alarmed pupils, he was arrested by officers

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

of the law, and an hour later he was the tenant of a jail.
He knew the tidings would speedily reach his parents,
and, fearful of the distress it would occasion them, he hastened
to write them a letter, detailing all the events of the
few preceding days, and treating his imprisonment as
lightly as possible, although by no means sanguine of its
speedy termination.

Astonishment and terror filled the hearts of Mrs. Jay
and her daughter when they received this letter, with which
the sobbing Lizzie was at once despatched to her father, at
the counting-house, who read the tidings with scarcely less
agitation. Capt. Jay hastened to his son, and was relieved
from part of his anxiety when he had heard the
whole of Addison's simple, truthful story, and knew that
he had committed no crime; but he dreaded the worst,
from the vindictiveness of his enemy, whose discomfiture
had been so signal and so mortifying. Never before did
he feel the galling chains of poverty so painfully as now,
when he reflected that he could not be accepted as bail for
his son, nor was it any easy matter to procure the heavy
security necessary for that purpose from other quarters.
Werter had filled the neighborhood with reports of a
cowardly and aggravated assault made upon him in an unprovoked
manner, and the totally different aspect of the
case related by the partial father was viewed with natural
distrust. The required bail in the action commenced
against Addison was very large, and when a long, weary
week had passed, the unfortunate youth was still the disgraced
tenant of a jail. Almost the only business acquaintances
of Captain Jay were his present employers, who had
also been the owners of the vessels which he had commanded
for many years, but they were sordid men, devoid
of all liberal and generous feeling. There were, indeed,
others among the many who had long known the worth of

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

the unfortunate family who would have come readily to
their relief in this hour of trial, if they had been applied to
for that purpose, or had even known the valuable service
they could render, but the unhappy father, depressed by the
repulses he had met, knew not where to turn for aid without
the prospect of the same mortifying refusals.

Months must elapse before the trial could take place,
and Addison was in great anxiety about his school, which
he had begun to consider as his only means of self-support,
and which, in his present dilemma, became more important
to him than ever. He imagined his enemy trying to supplant
him in that quarter also, and seeking to wrest from
him his humble occupation. Harassed and chafed by this
apprehension, and by his disgraceful confinement, his
misery daily increased, sleep forsook his pillow, and his
health became impaired.

Mrs. Jay received some visits of condolence from her
friends, and among others from the wife of a wealthy
neighbor, who advised patience and resignation, while the
distracted mother was thinking how her visiter's husband,
with one stroke of a pen, could set her child at liberty.
As this sympathizing friend went out of her humble home,
elated with her own condescension, and the charitable visit
she had made, a bustling little woman entered, in a state of
great excitement, and sitting down almost breathless, fairly
pulled Mrs. Jay into a seat beside her.

“Now, quick!” she said—“tell me all about it. I'll
never believe a word of it. Only to think of the horrid
stories they tell about poor Addison.”

“What have you heard, Miss Kepps?” asked Mrs. Jay.

“It's abominable! and it's in the newspapers, too.”

“What did you hear?”

“Why that Addison had tried to commit a highway robbery—
and had knocked down old Mr. Werter, and nearly

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

killed him, and was just going to take his pocket-book
when some one came and he ran away.”

“Is it possible they tell such stories about my poor
son?” said Mrs. Jay, in great agony—and Miss Kepps at
once set about soothing her, by assuring her that nobody
believed a word of it, and that she herself was ready to
prove that it was all false, for she knew it was quite impossible,
and she only wished they would call on her to be
a witness.

“But I fear they would not let you be a witness, as you
were not there,” replied Mrs. Jay.

“No matter for that; I could swear to his good character,
could not I? and I would swear it so strong that they
could not help believe me. Haven't I known him since he
was a baby? The dear little fellow! How many a jacket
have I made him, and how beautiful he used to look in
them, to be sure.”

Miss Kepps' excitement continued unabated, and Mrs.
Jay proceeded to relate to the kind-hearted seamstress the
real state of the affair as her son had described it.

“I knew it was so,” exclaimed the listener. “He did
nothing wrong at all, not a single thing, and I'm so glad
the old cur tumbled down the hill. I hope he got a good
sousing. Was the water muddy?”

“Rather yellowish,” said Lizzy, smiling through her
tears—“so Addison said.”

“I'm glad of it! I hope he got it in his mouth. But
now what I want to know is, what Addison is in jail for,
before he is tried or convicted, which he never will be?”

“Oh, because that's the law,” replied Lizzy, sobbing,
“unless he can get bail that he won't run away, before his
trial comes on.”

“Bail! what is that?” asked Miss Kepps, with a very

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

puzzled look, and wondering whether it could have anything
to do with the bail of a kettle.

“Why it means a surety. Some rich man who is worth
a whole thousand dollars has to sign a bond for his appearance
at court, so Addison says.”

“And do they have to pay the money?” asked Miss
Kepps, with great interest.

“Not if he keeps his word and appears, but if he runs
away the bondsman has to pay.”

“Well, why hasn't somebody signed something then, and
let him out?”

“Because—because they are afraid of losing their money,
I suppose. Papa has asked I don't know how many,
and they all make some excuse, even the rich Smiths.”

“Well, it's a burning shame and a sin, that it is. Can
a woman be bail?”

“Yes, if she has money.”

“Well then, I'll be a bail myself. I'll go right away
and do it.”

“But Miss Kepps,” exclaimed both mother and daughter,
“you have not a thousand dollars?”

“Hav'n't I, though? What do you suppose I have been
working for, twenty-five years, then? I'll go and draw
my money right out of the bank, and show it to the constables,
or whoever it is that has got him, and then I'll
sign any thing they choose, and Addison shall come out—
that he shall. I am not afraid of his running away.”

Mrs. Jay and her daughter were both in tears of joy and
gratitude, at this generous offer, which with some difference
of detail was really carried into effect, Miss Kepps being
accepted as bail, upon depositing her money with an officer
of the court.

That night Addison joined his family circle at home,
where the generous sempstress was present to participate
in the joy she had produced.

p657-055 CHAPTER VII. SIDNEY REMOVED TO THE COUNTRY.

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

Ralph Werter did not mean to leave his demoniaca,
work half done. The trustees of young Jay's school were
his acquaintances, and his not very distant neighbors, who
regarded him as a man of consequence, and desired to be
on good terms with him. They were unfortunately weakminded
men also, who were easily influenced, and who did
not trouble themselves much about the justice of an act
which became convenient and politic.

Mr. Werter told them that a young man, who would attack
quiet old gentlemen, and roll them down hills, was not
exactly the right sort of person to be entrusted with the
education of children, even if he had the good fortune to
get out of jail, of which there was no present prospect—
and the trustees shook their heads and said they thought
so too. They said they were very sorry, and very much
astonished at what had taken place, because Mr. Jay
seemed like a very excellent young man, whom the scholars
all liked very much, and they did not know where they
could find a substitute for him.

But Ralph relieved them on this point also, for he knew
if they procrastinated and held the matter “under advisement,”
that Addison would soon be at liberty, and would
induce them to change their minds. He sought out, therefore,
an unemployed pedagogue, loaded him with recommendations
from people who knew nothing about him, and
sent him to be Addison's successor, which he immediately

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

became, to the great terror of the little boys, and the
greater grief of the large girls, for he was a cross-eyed and
cross-tempered man, with bandy legs and yellow hair.

The first day after young Jay's liberation he employed
himself in seeking counsel to defend him on his approaching
trial, and in laying the facts of the case before them,
and on the second day he repaired to his school district to
begin to earn the large fees which he had promised, and
which alone would absorb the wages of long months to
come. How great would be his ruin if the suit was decided
against him, and if he should be heavily amerced in damages,
he did not dare to contemplate, but strong in the
sense of innocence he hoped for the best, and he believed
it impossible for any ingenuity to torture his act of self-defence
into a crime.

Alas! he knew little of what malice and Mammon can
do with that great engine, the law, when a friendless victim
is to be crushed or a gilded villain is to be saved.

Addison intended to call upon the trustees and inform
them of his readiness to resume his duties, and give them
the true version of the affair which had led to his arrest,
but his way led past the school house, and to his great
alarm on approaching it, he saw that it was occupied, and
he heard the loud voices of recitation and command issuing
from the opened windows. Terrified at the new misfortune
which he believed had befallen him, he stopped by the roadside
until a dismissed class came rushing out, and were
soon gathered around him, the larger boys eagerly informing
him of everything pertaining to the unwelcome change,
while the smaller ones kept timidly aloof, as if they did not
consider the late master entirely divested of his official
terrors.

With a full heart the discarded tutor listened to the news
of his disgrace, and learned that Ralph was the direct

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

author of it all. He heard, but scarcely comprehended the
earnest appeals of his pupils to come back to them, and
abandoning his now useless purpose of calling upon the
trustees, he turned sorrowing upon his homeward way.

His calamity may seem a light one, but it was not so to
the poverty-haunted and almost friendless young man.

The story of his dismissal would precede him wherever
he went, and those who knew nothing of his guilt or innocence
would judge of it by this act of his employers. It
would bar him from any similar engagement, wherever rumor's
baleful whisper could reach; and it would cut off
from him the very means which were absolutely necessary
to enable him to prove his innocence of the offence with
which he was charged. Hope abandoned him, and he returned
to his home utterly disconsolate, until reanimated
by the soothing and cheering voice of a mother, who could
not be quite miserable while she saw her beloved son, and
knew him to be innocent of crime.

Sidney, in the meantime, remained in entire ignorance
of everything which had happened to his cousin, since
their last interview, and after a few weeks had passed
away he was surprised to learn that he was again to be
sent to school.

Mr. Werter had a farmer cousin residing in the interior
of the State, several hundred miles distant from the city,
to whom he had resolved to send the boy, ostensibly for his
health and for the benefit of a neighboring academy, but
really for the purpose of keeping him away from his maternal
relations, as well as from other enlightening influences.

He accompanied him there, and thus fortunately secured
for the child a quiet and comfortable home, where he was
kindly treated and where his freedom from the domestic
tyranny to which he had so long been subjected, was in itself
no small measure of bliss. He had never fully

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

comprehended the weight of his chains until he had thus happily
thrown them off, and in his new home he soon began
to exhibit something of the usual hilarity of childhood.
His distance from Addison was not a source of much sorrow
to him, because he felt that he was before as effectually
separated from him by the imperious will of his guardian,
as if oceans had rolled between them.

Besides he looked forward with glad anticipation to the
time when he should learn the mystery of writing, and
thus be able to communicate with his cousin, and keep up
an interchange of those friendly and affectionate sentiments
which he was sure they mutually entertained. He
longed especially to inform him fully of all the events
which had occurred to prevent his returning to school—
being very fearful that Addison might believe him in some
way at fault. With what delight did he anticipate his first
letter to his friend, and with what assiduity did he resolve
to pursue that one valuable branch of his studies which was
to place this new power in his hands.

Little did the artless boy dream what wily heads could
plot and guilty hands could execute of craft and guile to
disappoint and defeat his innocent and virtuous designs.

Ralph had foreseen this danger, and he took his measures
accordingly.

“The boy may become home-sick,” he said to the farmer,
who was an ignorant and unsuspecting man, “and may
wish to write to me or to some of his acquaintances. I am
sorry to say he has some bad associates, and, as his guardian,
you know it is my right and duty to know with whom
he corresponds. Make sure, therefore, that he sends no
letter which does not pass through your hands—and do
you direct it to my care and mail it yourself. Can you do
this?”

“O, very easily—I'll speak to Brock, the postmaster,

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

about it, too, and he'll stop them, if the boy should happen
to take any there without my knowledge, which I don't
think he can do, for it is four miles to the nearest post-office.”

“But Brock might overlook it.”

“Not very well. There ain't more'n two letters a week
mailed at his office, and they say his wife and daughters
always keeps them a day or two, to peep into them, and
turn out the edges and try to read them.”

“Very well, I'll depend on you and Mr. Brock. It is
all for Sidney's good, you know.”

“Of course it is—lots of mischief these little fellows
would get into, if they warn't watched—cause they never
know what's for their good.”

Mr. Reed was very accommodating, because his city
cousin paid a liberal price for the lad's support and schooling,
and seemed to be acting the part of a guardian, who,
though a little strict and stern, was still watchful of his
ward's best interests.

p657-060 CHAPTER VIII. POVERTY AND ITS TROUBLES.

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

For three weeks Ralph's wrath burned hotly against the
poor tutor, and then other reflections began to mingle with
his dreams of revenge. A public trial might lead to incidental
inquiries in relation to other things, which he feared
to have discussed, and there was danger that members of
his own family, perhaps even Sidney, might be called upon
the stand as witnesses. This he knew would lead to some
strange and startling disclosures, and although he was
guiltless of any legal crime towards his ward—for he had
always been shrewd enough to void that—yet he knew
there was such a thing possible as “taking away his stewardship”
and placing another guardian over the orphan.
He had indeed no serious fears on this point, for he knew
well the vast vantage ground which possession both of the
office and the estates gave him over any other claimants,
and, besides this, he chuckled over the thought that,
although his guardianship could be annulled, his relationship
could not be. He would be the legal heir of his
nephew, if the latter did not live to the age when he would
be legally empowered to dispose of his property by will,
and he made confident calculations that the disease which
was so evidently at work in poor Sidney's system would
prevent his ever attaining to manhood. Yet he feared exposure
and disgrace—he feared the loss of a trusteeship
which was rolling its yearly tens of thousands into his
pocket, never, probably, to be accounted for, or inquired

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

after, and he feared, above all, the possibility (a mere possibility,
it seemed) that Sidney, under other care and in a
milder clime, with the best medical aid, might be restored
to health.

In such a contingency his dreams of wealth would be
over, the gorgeous visions which he had so long gloatingly
contemplated would dissolve like the mirage of the desert,
and he would be left by its departing splendors a beggar
and a debtor, unable to account for the half of his liabilities
to his ward. To what extreme measures he might not
resort to prevent such a result, it is difficult to say, but he
resolved at least to leave nothing undone now that could
strengthen his position or ward off impending danger.
His quarrel with young Jay became a trifling matter in
his estimation, and he began heartily to wish that his imprudent
suit had never been commenced. For a while
after Addison's release on bail he indulged the hope that
he would run away, and he paid frequent visits to the city
and to his lawyer, in expectation of this happy result; but
there were no indications of any such design on the part of
his adversary.

Growing more and more solicitous to prevent the further
agitation of so dangerous an affair, he resolved upon a new
plan of action, by which he hoped not only to end the litigation,
but to remove the young man to so great a distance
from Sidney that he could exercise no further influence
upon him.

In pursuance of this plan he called upon an old Spanish
merchant, whom he knew to be connected with an extensive
house at Barbadoes, and with whom his own acquaintance
had originated, many years previous, under the following
circumstances.

Both Ralph and his deceased brother were Scotchmen,
whose first quest after Fortune's smiles had led them to

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

the West Indies, and who had resided several years at
Barbadoes, without any satisfactory success in the great
object of their pursuit. When Ralph had resolved to come
to America, he procured letters of introduction to Senor
Rizzio, who was then a junior member of a southern mercantile
firm, sent out to establish a branch of their house in
the American metropolis, but who had since become a
very wealthy man, and a permanent resident of New York.

Hugh Werter did not follow his brother to New York
until several years after the latter had become established
there, and had reported to him the favorable aspect of his
own fortunes, and when he did so, he also brought letters
to the same Senor Rizzio, who had kindly assisted both of
these young men in their first efforts to obtain employment,
and the acquaintance which he had thus begun
between Ralph and the Spaniard had been ever since kept
up, although with no particular intimacy, and certainly
with no extraordinary demonstration of gratitude from the
obliged party.

It was natural that, in seeking for a foreign situation to
which he might exile young Jay, Werter's thoughts should
turn directly to Rizzio, as the man most likely to advance
his project, especially as he knew that the Spaniard had
already forwarded several of his American clerks to the
southern house. To Ralph's inquiries whether he knew of
any profitable occupation for an intelligent young American
at Barbadoes, he promptly replied in the affirmative.

“Perhaps you have a vacancy in your own house?”

“Yes, ever since the last fever season,” said the
Spaniard, shrugging his shoulders. “He must have a
good constitution who goes—the last two poor fellows I
sent out—”

“Went further, I suppose,” said Ralph, interrupting

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

him. “They must take their chance of that. People die
other places besides Barbadoes, I believe.”

The Spaniard bowed.

“You take these things into consideration in your salaries,
I presume?”

“We will pay reasonably for a clever, active young
American, who speaks Spanish a little and can learn it
readily. The truth is, we want several of this description,
and it is very difficult to get them.”

Rizzio spoke frankly, and not like a man who was disposed
to drive a hard bargain.

“Very well,” said Werter, “I think I can help you to
exactly such a one as you want; but there are some reasons
why I do not wish the applicant whom I shall send you to
know that I am befriending him. May I depend on your
secrecy?”

“Certainly; I will not mention your name, if you desire
it; but about the fever?”

“Leave it to me to have that sufficiently explained to
him, if you please; for, since fear kills more than fever, it
is better he should not know the precise fate of his predecessors.
He has a good constitution, and will run but
little risk.”

“Perhaps you are right; I leave it entirely to you.”

“Do you ever advertise for such clerks?”

“We did formerly, but our advertisements never brought
us the right sort of people, and we gave it up.”

“Have you any objection to putting a single advertisement
in a morning paper to this effect?”

“Not in the least—it shall be inserted to-morrow, if you
wish it.”

“There are some reasons why this is desirable, and I
will be much obliged to you if you will have it done.”

Rizzio named the newspaper in which the notice would

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

appear, and Werter departed, leaving the merchant a little
puzzled at his singular mode of doing business, but really
suspecting nothing wrong.

Ralph next visited his lawyer, whom he now took fully
into his confidence, in relation to his anxiety to suppress
the suit and get the young defendant out of the country;
and having promised the attorney quite as liberal a fee for
success in this scheme, as he could obtain if the trial
were to take place, he found in him a ready and able
coadjutor.

It was no difficult matter for Mr. Attorney Boggs to
bring the morrow's advertisement to the notice of young
Jay, through the aid of a third party, nor to have a suggestion
made to him that it would be a most eligible post
for himself, if he were not under heavy bonds to remain in
the country. And when Addison, with a boy's love of adventure
and enterprize, sharpened by the very consciousness
of the legal restrictions imposed upon him, expressed
an earnest wish to go, it was an easy matter again for Mr.
Attorney Boggs' confidential friend to intimate that possibly
the plaintiff in the suit against him might be induced to
settle it on mere payment of the costs and an apology—or
something like that.

“I'll never apologize,” said Addison; “but if he really
thinks I knocked or pushed him down, I would assure him
I did not—I would explain—”

“And pay the costs?” said his questioner, quickly.

“I ought not to do that—but for the sake of this opportunity
to get into business, I would do so; that is, of
course, if my parents approved of my going.”

“I know Boggs very well, and will sound him on this
subject, if you wish.”

Addison was eager to assent, but he resolved to consult

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

his parents first, and he accordingly put off his officious
friend for a day or two.

Captain Jay heard his son's scheme with incredulity,
believing neither in his ability to procure the situation,
nor in the placability of Ralph Werter, but expressing
his opinion that the opportunity was a golden one for
somebody to connect his fortunes with those of the rich
Rizzio.

Mr. Jay had been too much a traveller himself, and had
sojourned too much in all latitudes, to think seriously of
either distance or climate as an objection to his son's
accepting the place, if it should prove attainable; and
although Addison's mother heard of the project with great
alarm and grief, her anxiety for her son's welfare, and
especially for his extrication from his present troubles,
prevented her from opposing it.

Thus encouraged, and placing an increased value upon
the prize by reason of the doubts and difficulties which
lay in the path of attainment, Addison sought out the
friend of Mr. Boggs, and gladly accepted of his offered
mediation.

It resulted as might have been expected. Ralph proved
eminently placable, and everything was readily arranged,
contingent upon the success of the application to Mr.
Rizzio, which young Jay lost no time in making; and so
well had the way been smoothed before him, that even
there a first interview settled the engagement between the
parties.

Overflowing with delight, Addison returned home, carrying
both joy and grief into the family circle, but the first
great sensation was that of relief and pleasure at the release
from the impending prosecution, which had so long
threatened ruin to the impoverished family. A salary,
moderate at first, but to be increased each succeeding year,

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

gave promise of enabling the young man not only to support
himself, but to contribute materially to the assistance
of his parents, which had long been an object of his earnest
desire. Although greatly grieved to leave his friends, he
maintained a show of cheerfulness, and partly sustained
the failing spirits of his mother and sister, by the seeming
exuberance of his own.

He took much pains before leaving to ascertain where
his cousin Sidney was, in order that he might open a correspondence
with him; but his evil genius, who, unknown
to himself, was so adroitly guiding all his movements, contrived
to have him supplied with information on this point,
which was near enough correct to prevent suspicion, yet
erroneous enough to mislead.

He wrote a long and affectionate letter to Sidney, and
if he did not direct it to Kamschatka, he might as well
have done so as to use the address furnished him by Mr.
Boggs' friend, which that gentleman had received from
Boggs, and which the attorney, of course, had procured
from Ralph. Not content with this step, Addison exacted
from his mother a promise that, when Sidney returned
home, which he supposed would be within a few months,
she should take pains to communicate with him in some
way, and renew if possible the acquaintance and intimacy
of former years, for his heart yearned with pity for the sad
orphan boy, whom he knew to be poor and friendless, in
the midst of all his great wealth.

Thus Addison Jay went from home in his seventeenth
year, doubly the victim of deceit, following the phantom
of Fortune to a land where it soon might be transformed
to the hideous spectre of disease and death. Little did he
dream that five long years would elapse before he again
should see his native land, that an equal period of absence
would be Sidney's lot, that in the mean time his parents

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

would descend to a still lower depth of poverty, and Ralph
Werter, relieved from the presence of those he most
dreaded, would rise to a higher prosperity, in the plenitude
of another's wealth, which he enjoyed unquestioned,
and from which he resolved never to part.

p657-068 CHAPTER IX. THE COUSINS AND THEIR TRIALS.

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

Five years! How much is comprised in that brief
phrase, over which the pen glides so easily! How strange
and varied were the experiences which that little interval
of time, now a mere point in the history of the past, brought
to the subjects of our narrative.

Ralph Werter had abandoned his country residence, and
had taken a stylish house in town, greatly to the gratification
of his wife and daughters, who, by dint of extravagant
dressing and costly entertainments had become known and
countenanced among the ton. His own taste was not naturally
for display, but he had suffered himself to be overruled
in this respect by his family, while his fondness for
being thought and called rich reconciled him to the cost of
such a reputation. He became known on `Change—he was
hand and glove with several millionaires—and was himself
considered by the community to be quite one of that golden
variety of the human animal. He was now more than
sixty years of age, and his experience had not been an
exception to the rule, that the heart in which avarice is
the dominant passion becomes more grasping with increasing
years—more deaf to the demands of justice, more
callous to the calls of pity.

His prediction of Sidney's early death had not been
verified, and he was at times alarmed at the tenacity of
life exhibited by his ward in the midst of a disease which
every year became more manifest. He was still confident

[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

that the boy could not live to manhood; but even if it
were possible that he should briefly survive that period, he
hoped to keep him in his present state of exile, ignorant
of his rights, and free from any influences which might
tend to thwart his own designs.

Sidney's own fortunes had been mild and genial with
the exception of that illness, which, while giving him but
little real pain or anxiety, seemed to be gradually wearing
away his vital powers. His home was a quiet and comfortable
one, where he had found some true friends, and
one beloved playmate, in a little daughter of Mr. Reed,
who became to him all that a sister could have been. He
never regretted his change of residence, and, but for his
desire to see his old friend Sukey, he would have preferred
never to return to his former abode.

Yet he had begun to entertain grateful feelings towards
his uncle for his kindness in providing him so pleasant a
home, and allowing him to remain so long unmolested in
it. His greatest trial was his separation from Addison,
and the improbability of his ever seeing him again, for his
uncle had been careful to have him informed of his cousin's
departure to the West Indies. Sidney's education had
progressed with rapidity, and he had within the first year
of his residence in the country written a long letter to Addison
at Barbadoes, and another to his cousin Lizzie at
New York, which epistles cost him a great outlay of time
and mental labor to perfect, and both of which met with as
warm a reception as he could have anticipated—for they
found their way in a few days into Ralph Werter's kitchen
fire.

Many long months he patiently waited and looked for
the answers to these burnt letters, rising daily with the
fresh hope that that was to be the blissful day when they
would come, and retiring nightly with the belief that it

[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

would be to-morrow. Then he wrote again to Addison,
with a similar result, extending the period of disappointed
expectations through another half year, and then gradually
abandoning the hope, and giving way to the sad thought
that he was forgotten and not cared for.

But the heart of childhood closed over these wounds—
other friends supplied the place of the lost, and the wronged
orphan was still happier than those who usurped his rights,
and happier, alas! than that unfortunate friend by whom
he supposed himself neglected.

Addison entered upon his new business with success, and
with entire satisfaction to his employers, but within three
months after his arrival out, the unhealthy season commenced,
and the approach of the dreaded fever began to
be heralded.

He was among its first subjects, and, narrowly escaping
death, he remained for weeks prostrated, and for months
enfeebled, by the severity of his attack. Nearly a year
elapsed before his strength was fully restored, and, rejoicing
in the belief that he was fully acclimated, he dauntlessly
awaited at his post the second arrival of the scourge,
but only to be again thrown upon a bed of pain, and again
to endure all his former protracted illness, and still more
protracted convalescence.

Disheartened by these sad experiences, he did not dare
to hope, when again restored, that his sufferings had secured
him any immunity for the future, and he began to
think of retreating before so great a peril, and returning
home, although with his purposes all unaccomplished. But
he was advised that his acclimation was now undoubtedly
complete, and that he might be considered as holding a receipt
in full from the Pestilence, which would faithfully respect
his claims to forbearance in future, and he resolved to
remain. Less sanguine, however, than before—less

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

hopeful and joyous of heart—he had lost his playful spirits, his
elasticity of motion, and his merry, ringing laughter; but
for these changes there were other reasons besides his personal
misfortunes.

Sickness and increased poverty had come upon those
most dear to him, whom he had left at home, and whom he
had vainly hoped ere this to be able materially to assist.
Captain Jay had been obliged by illness, and nearly total
deprivation of sight, to abandon his business, which, slight
as it was, had been almost the only support of his family,
and now, when the chief means of their living was cut off,
its expenses were increased by the necessity of medical attendance.

Addison had heard from time to time, by letters from
Lizzie, of the progress of misfortune at home, and he had
gladly sent every dollar he could spare for their relief; but
with the most painful economy he could save but little out
of his income, which was greatly reduced by his own sickness.
He would gladly have withheld from his friends the
tidings of his own afflictions; but, as he could not properly
do this, he spoke as lightly as possible of them, and sent
no word of wail to hearts already stricken and desponding.

The four succeeding years were marked by no striking
event in his own experience, and by no favorable change
in the affairs of his friends, whose poverty remained unmitigated
and unrelieved, excepting by his own efforts. Regularly
and cheerfully, through all that period, his monthly
salary was remitted to his father, with the exception of a
sum barely sufficient for his own economical support; and
many of his young associates, more profuse of expenditure,
wondered at the seeming parsimony indicated by his style
of living. He mingled but little in society, and formed
but few acquaintances, but he made one friend, worthy of
the name, whose companionship was his solace in many a

[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

sad hour, and whose attachment to him was only equalled
by his own reciprocating regard.

Like himself, however, Edward Hazleton was an early
struggler against adversity, a buffeter of the waves of fortune,
which yet could never wholly wreck a vessel so buoyantly
freighted, for he was one of the most light-hearted
and merry of mortals. Care sat easily upon him, or rather
it never could be said to more than flit across his heart,
yet although never bemoaning his own hardships, he had a
ready appreciation and sympathy for the sufferings of
others. Two minds so congenial to each other could not
fail to harmonize and coalesce, affording to each that sincere
delight of which true friendship is ever the source.
Edward was the son of a widow lady who lived in retirement,
almost in seclusion, but whose few associates were
among the first class of citizens. Addison knew nothing
of her history excepting what observation taught him, that
some deep, abiding grief, probably that of bereavement,
was her lot. Her son was her life, her joy, her hope, the
great compensation for a great sorrow; and richly, fondly,
he fulfilled his blessed mission. Mother had never more
dutiful son; son never a more loving mother. In his
younger years she had used her most diligent efforts to bestow
upon him a good education, and now he richly repaid
the obligation, by using his acquirements for her maintenance
and comfort. Scanty means, indeed, were his as
yet, but his store of hope and joyous anticipations for the
future was absolutely boundless, and he fortunately succeeded
in infusing some portion of this feeling, tempered
by soberer reason, into the heart of his mother, who was
yet scarcely past the middle age of life.

But great as was the pleasure which Addison derived
from such a friend, he pined for those still more beloved,
and he dreaded daily to hear still sadder tidings of their

[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

penury and distress. He knew the worst had not been
told him, and his only consolation for his prolonged absence
was the certainty that his earnings were a source of relief
for his parents and sister, though he little dreamed that it
was nearly all their support. Yet the sums he was able to
save and remit were not large, and he flattered himself
that he could gain at least an equal stipend in his native
city, and have the satisfaction of being near his friends.
This hope grew upon him as he contemplated it, until it
became almost a certainty in his estimation, and then he
resolved to go. Unspeakable was his delight, when this
resolution was fully formed, at the prospect of a re-union
with those so dearly beloved, and the only alloy which now
mingled with his cup of bliss was regret at parting with
Edward. The young friends, however, confidently hoped
to meet again, and agreed upon a correspondence, which
should in some degree lessen the pain of separation.

Addison stated his wishes to his employers, received from
them a reluctant but honorable dismissal, with a high testimonial
to his worth and fidelity, and a free passage home
in a ship about to sail for New York.

He embarked so soon after resolving to go, that there
was no time to send home tidings of his approach, so that
his return was entirely unheralded. Had it been otherwise,
something doubtless would have been done to conceal
from a first view of the beloved visitor the depth of that
destitution to which his friends were reduced, but now
there was no disguise.

Captain Jay, whose incapacity for business was total,
and apparently permanent, had taken a still more humble
house than his before unpretending cottage—he had parted
with the most valuable articles of his furniture, replacing
them with substitutes of commoner material—and everything
that partook of show or finery in the wardrobe of the

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

family, had also been little by little sacrificed for the necessities
of subsistence.

These changes had chiefly been made during the first
two years of Addison's absence, before his established
health and increasing pay had enabled him to make any
considerable remittances home, and since that period those
contributions, with the scanty earnings of Lizzie, had been
the sole source of support. With what pain, yet with what
affectionate gratitude, the invalid father received these
monthly offerings of filial love—with what tenderness and
solicitude he regarded his toiling but uncomplaining daughter—
words are inadequate to tell.

Lizzie obtained work from a fashionable dress-maker,
which she was allowed to do at home, but alas! at those
sadly unremunerating prices which have ever rewarded the
labors of the “needle slave.” Often she saw her handiwork
upon flaunting and fashionable ladies of the neighborhood,
who in beauty and grace, and all the true merit of
womanhood, were immeasurably below the humble seamstress
who had contributed to their adornment. Not unfrequently,
indeed, had she labored for the Misses Werter,
unknown to them, and receiving but a pittance of the extravagant
sums which her principal charged for her work.

It was to such a home that Addison came abruptly and
unlooked for, changing it to a palace of delight, and rendering
all the loving little circle for a while forgetful that
they had any cause for care or anxiety.

It would be pleasant to linger in contemplation of this
scene of domestic bliss—to dwell upon the many subsequent
hours of enjoyment which, despite every privation,
were allotted to this guileless family; but other events
claim the attention of narrator and reader, and hasten us
from these alluring themes.

Addison was not long in learning the full extent of his

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

parents' poverty, and he knew he had no time for inaction,
if he would not behold even a worse state of things than
already existed. He hastened to seek business, and while
none better was attainable, he sought and found employment
as a scrivener, an occupation for which his rapid and
elegant penmanship eminently qualified him, and in which
he had the advantage of being able to work at home. In
this labor he had the satisfaction of being able, by great
diligence, nearly to equal the amount of his former earnings,
and although he had adopted it only as a temporary
resort, yet when a year had passed away, he was still engaged
at his tedious and never-ending tasks, without any
better promise for the future.

His youth was passing away, his health was impaired—
he saw his beloved sister sinking under toils similar to his
own, and his heart at times grew sad and very heavy, with
its load of cares and bitter anticipations. He had made
frequent attempts to obtain business which might give some
increased promise for that far future which now stretched
with such gloomy prospect before him; but all his many
efforts to this end had been unsuccessful—for he was without
influential friends or patronage.

It was on an evening when he had returned greatly disappointed
from an application of this kind, which had given
more than its usual promise, and the failure of which produced
more than usual dejection, that the knock of a visitor
was heard at the door. Addison stepped quickly to the
door and opened it, admitting a young, slight man, who
advanced hesitatingly into the centre of the room, looking
by turns at each individual present, and then sinking silently
into a chair, as if overcome by fatigue or emotion.
He had removed his hat on entering, and a mass of chesnut
curls were clustering round a pale, white forehead, beneath
which eyes of unnatural brilliancy shone like meteors

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

upon the astonished group around him, and became finally
fixed with a steady gaze upon Addison.

“You do not know me,” he said at length, mournfully.

Faint as was the voice, Addison started as if electrified
by its first tone, a look of transport illumined his face, and
he sprang to the side of his visiter, grasping each hand in
his own.

“Sidney! Cousin Sidney!” he exclaimed, “It is indeed
you. Speak to me, that I may make sure I do not
dream.

“It is Sidney!” said the guest, smiling through his
flowing tears. “Are you really so glad to see me? Then
I am happy indeed!”

A reproachful look from Addison said more than the
words with which he replied—

“Glad, did you say, Sidney?”

“You never received my letters then, or you answered
them, and they miscarried? Or there is something—some
excuse—some reason why for five weary years I have hoped
to see you, or to read one line traced by your hands, and
have been ever disappointed until now.”

Sidney spoke rapidly and with agitation.

“I have never received a letter or a message from you.
I have written four times to you, imploring you to answer
me, however briefly—I have thought of you, dreamed of
you, prayed for you, as if you had been my brother, and
yet, oh! Sidney, you can ask me if I am glad to see you!”

“Forgive me, Addison—I see it all—and all can be
explained hereafter. Let me see my aunt and cousin
Lizzie now,” and passing to the side of the mother and
daughter, who had remained almost breathless witnesses
of the extraordinary scene, he blushingly kissed them both
and said—

“I have thought often and much of you since my

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

acquaintance with Addison at school, for he drew such a picture
of you as could not easily be forgotten. Besides
which he told me you cherished a regard for me, and my
friends, Heaven knows, have been few!”

The young man spoke with ease and self-possession, and
in a short time all feeling of restraint was banished from
the little circle of relatives, who conversed freely and earnestly
together.

“And when did you return to your uncle's?” asked
Addison, “and how is it that he has consented to your
visiting us?”

“I have not yet returned to my uncle's, nor shall I until
to-morrow, if you can give me shelter for the night. I did
not reach the city until too late an hour to admit of my
going out to —ville this evening, and I thought the opportunity
a favorable one for seeing you.”

“Then you did not know that Mr. Werter had become
a resident of the city? How fortunate for us!”

“Uncle Ralph resides in the city! No, I did not know
it, and for once I am glad of my ignorance. How long
has this been so?”

“For nearly a year—and he is living in great style, I
assure you—quite one of the nabobs—keeps a carriage, and
is called a millionaire.”

“That is strange—I do not think he can be very rich.”

Addison looked inquiringly at his cousin, but there was
nothing in his countenance or tone of voice which indicated
any doubt or suspicion of his guardian; for Sidney still
remained as utterly unconscious of his own wealth as he
was on the day he left his uncle's roof. Mr. Reed could
not have informed him, if he had desired, for he himself
knew nothing more in regard to it than Werter had chosen
to tell him, and from that secluded spot where he dwelt,
the affairs of the great city and its inhabitants were almost

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

as completely shut out as if they had been those of another
world. Ralph's quarterly letter, business-like and brief,
containing the stipulated remittance to the farmer, may be
said to be all that he ever heard or cared to hear from
New York. Sidney's relations, of course, could not suspect
so extraordinary a state of things, or they would at
once have informed him of what it was so very proper for
him to know, and, viewed in this erroneous light, much
that the young man said and did, of course seemed strangely
enigmatical. He could not fail to perceive the very evident
signs of a poverty so very nearly approaching destitution
as that of his friends, yet there was nothing in his
appearance or language to indicate that he thought their
fortunes different from his own, or that he had any power
to assist them. Nothing indeed could be more disinterested
than Addison's affection for Sidney, which, in its
inception and progress, had been uncontaminated by one
mercenary thought, but his parents could not fail to see
the great advantage which their unportioned children might
derive from the friendship and favor of their wealthy cousin,
and in their solicitude they almost expected to hear the
young heir giving some assurance of future patronage or
protection.

“Is it not strange,” asked Mrs. Jay, “that your uncle
did not inform you of his change of residence, when he
wrote for you to return?”

“He did not write for me to return, nor does he expect
me,” replied Sidney, with a more grave look than he had
before worn. “You may not have heard, and by this
light you may not, perhaps, perceive, that I am in feeble
health, and—and—perhaps I should say that I am seriously
ill. At all events, a physician who has frequently
visited me in the country, has earnestly advised that I
should spend the approaching winter in a warm climate,

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

and has insisted upon my hastening home to prepare for
my journey. Indeed, a recent severe attack of hemmorrhage
from the lungs so much alarmed him, that he would
not hear of my delaying my departure for the time necessary
to write and receive an answer from my guardian,
which would require about a fortnight, and so I have come,
although I have very little idea that Uncle Ralph will allow
me to go south.”

The pain which this alarming intelligence gave the listeners
prevented them from particularly noticing the closing
remark, which implied so complete a dependence on his
guardian, and submission to his control, and all seemed
anxious to cheer both the invalid and themselves with encouragement
and hope.

A southern climate would work wonders for him—the
sea voyage itself would cure him, if indeed he had any
serious illness, which they tried very hard to doubt, and
which Sidney, unwilling to distress them, did not re-affirm.
He did not believe himself incurable, but he believed there
was danger, although the term was scarcely appropriate in
relation to a change which he contemplated with so much
calmness, and at times with positive pleasure.

Their conversation was protracted to a late hour at night,
and ran upon numberless themes, yet strangely enough, it
did not lead to an elucidation of the great secret which had
so long been withheld from young Werter, although it often
seemed to approach that point.

If it had been possible for his relations to conjecture so
strange a thing as his ignorance on this subject, there was
enough in his language and deportment to strengthen a suspicion
once aroused; but, singularly enough, Sidney retired
to rest that night, and in the morning parted with his
friends, as unenlightened as he came.

Fortunately, however, he did not leave them without a

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resolution and a promise soon to see them again. On this
point he said he would not now be ruled, for however he
might defer to his uncle's opinion in some matters, he was
sure he had arrived at an age when he had a right to control
his personal movements and the choice of his acquaintances.

p657-081 CHAPTER X. HEALTH AND WEALTH.

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

Ralph Werter turned almost white with alarm when,
seated at his writing desk that morning, making out numerous
little quarterly bills for rent, in all of which his name
bore the suffix of guardian or trustee, his nephew was unexpectedly
shown into the room, and stood before him. His
first decided impression was that Sidney had learned all
that related to his affairs, and had come to demand his
rights, and with a confused and guilty look he brushed the
tell-tale papers aside, and thrust them into the desk before
rising to receive him.

Greeting him with as much show of kindness as he could
assume, he soon perceived to his great relief that his fears
were as yet groundless; and Sidney's pale, thin cheeks, together
with the story which he told of his illness, and the
cause of his return, soon restored his equanimity and his
hopes. He answered with words of sympathy, but with a
cold, calculating look, and he surveyed the lineaments of his
nephew as if he were reading the title deeds to his possessions.
In relation to the proposed journey, he said he would
consult his own physician, who would be a better judge of the
utility of such a step than any country doctor could be, but
the real object of his intended consultation was of course
very different from the assumed one. Could a warm climate
arrest a disease so far progressed? Was there any
danger that the patient's life could be protracted over the
sixteen months' interval which yet stretched between him

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

and the age of majority? These were the questions which
perplexed him, and which he wished solved before deciding
on so important a step.

That Sidney should go somewhere far away from home,
he was not only willing, but anxious, for he had been
greatly disturbed by his re-appearance at this particular
time, when there was so much in his own altered style of
living to excite inquiry and suspicion. Besides, his
nephew had frankly told him, much to his alarm, of his
visit to the Jay family, and while he was both rejoiced and
surprised that such an interview had not produced the
result he most dreaded, he resolved not to hazard a repetition
of the danger, if it could be avoided. Yet, to send
the invalid boy back to the country might seem cruel and
despotic to those who knew the object of his return to New
York, and might possibly prove impracticable from Sidney's
own opposition. He wished to avoid anything like a
conflict of opinion with his ward, now so nearly a man, for
he little knew how yielding and subdued was the spirit
which had been crushed by his own early training.

He should travel, then, as he desired—such was Ralph's
conclusion—if the physicians thought there was no cure in
travel, or in change of climate; and, until he went, his
illness would be a pretext for keeping him closely at home,
unexposed to the dangerous intercourse with the world.
As to his destination, if travel should be decided on, no
place could be named too remote to gain the guardian's
consent, for he well knew that the invalid might attain so
discouraging a distance from home that he would never attempt
to repass it.

Sidney met his aunt and cousins with a friendly feeling
and an entire oblivion of past grievances, and there was
some show of cordiality in their reception of him; but
Mrs. Werter manifested so evident a restraint and

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

uneasiness in his presence, that, confiding and unsuspicious as he
was, he could not fail to observe it. It did not seem
strange to him, however, for there was enough in the memory
of former hostilities to account for it—hostilities which
the recurring habit of boyish fear made him momentarily
anticipate were about to break out afresh. He grew shy
and sensitive again in her presence, and fancied that the
sharp voice which had been the terror of his childhood was
constantly about to interrogate him as to the reason of his
coming home, to denounce his folly and presumption, and
perhaps to order his return.

But there was one individual in the family of Mr. Werter
whose delight at Sidney's arrival was unalloyed, and
whom he was equally rejoiced to meet—it was the humble
slave, who had been the friend and religious tutor of the
child, and for whom his affection had been ever fresh and
sincere. He had brought her some little presents, which
she greatly prized as a proof of his remembrance, but he
found her pining for a greater boon than he could bestow,
which was freedom.

“If I am ever rich, Sukey—no, I do not mean rich—
but if I ever should have money enough to buy you, I
certainly will make you free,” said her young friend,
earnestly.

Sukey thanked him, but took little courage from the
promise. Her master, she said, had grown so rich now,
and she had served him so long and faithfully, that he
might well afford to let her go, and she thought, perhaps,
if Sidney should intercede with him for her, he might do so.

This commission the young man undertook, and faithfully
performed, although with no success—unless it was
success to infuse some hope into the heart of his old friend,
for Ralph did not seem inexorable, but promised to think
of it, and to grant the request at some time in the indefinite

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

future. Indeed, he said, he always had promised Sukey
that, if she were faithful and industrious, he would give her
her freedom before she died—but it was not convenient for
him to spare her just yet.

The fatigue of travel, and the earnest persuasions of his
guardian, retained the invalid within doors for two days
after his arrival, but he resolved that if the third day
should prove fair, he would again visit Addison, and in
order that there should be no concealment on his part, he
mentioned his purpose on the preceding evening to his
uncle. This circumstance hastened Ralph's intended
movements. He informed Sidney that he had made an
appointment with a physician to see him on the following
morning, in order to judge of the propriety of his proposed
journey, and he begged that he would not go out until
after the interview and examination. To this Sidney
could not object, and on the morrow he submitted patiently
to some half hour's questioning and inspection from a medical
man, who certainly was not Mr. Werter's family physician,
and who, although connected with the regular
faculty, and accounted a man of skill, had twice been under
the cognizance of a court of justice for certain malfeasances,
of which he had barely escaped conviction.

Dr. Brail's practice had long ceased to be a lucrative
one, nor could he now number any respectable families
among his patrons; he had been surprised, therefore, and
gratified at the present unexpected demand for his services.
He was a shrewd man, too—he knew something of the history
of the Werters, and added to his knowledge by a little
indirect questioning of Ralph, and he was not long in
forming a tolerably correct guess of the position of affairs.

When he had questioned Sidney, rudely and abruptly
enough, and had felt of him, and rapped him on the spine,
and on the chest, and had listened to his respiration, and

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

to the beatings of his heart, he shook his head ominously,
and told the patient he might withdraw, and he would give
his opinion to his uncle.

“You think he is in a consumption?” he said, quickly,
to Ralph, when the door had closed upon Sidney.

The questioner watched closely the countenance of the
old man, as he spoke.

“Yes,” said Ralph, in no tone of sorrow and with no
sign of emotion; “Dr. Lee pronounced him so years ago—
I am surprised that he has lasted so long.”

Brail perceived that another word might have been substituted
for `surprised' in his companion's reply, but he
asked another question before giving his own opinion, for
he wished to make sure that he was about to give welcome
tidings to his wealthy patron.

“Has he been long under Dr. Lee's charge?”

“Not at all—he has been living in the country, and before
he went from home we did not consider him ill
enough to need medical treatment.”

“Yet he was pronounced hopelessly consumptive by the
first physician in the city,” thought Brail, and his conjectures
became certainties.

“What do you think of him, Doctor? Do you too pronounce
him consumptive?”

“Most assuredly.”

“He is very desirous to go South. Some of his friends
also wish and expect it. Do you think it can materially
affect the result?”

There was an evident look of anxiety accompanying
this remark, and Brail saw it.

“You need not fear to send him,” he said, ambiguously.

“It will not hurt him?”

“Nor do him any good. It may add a few months to

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

his life—but a year, at the very farthest, will tell the whole
story.”

“You feel quite certain of this?”

“Quite—there are some symptoms in this disease which
never deceive us, and although I am sorry to distress you,
yet the truth must be told.”

Ralph looked as if he could bear it, and Brail went away
with a liberal fee.

Sidney was immediately summoned and informed that
the physician approved of his going south, and that he
must prepare for immediate departure, as the autumnal
rains were about setting in, which would be most prejudicial
to him.

The guardian had fixed upon Cuba as the resort of the
invalid, because he knew of a vessel which would sail within
a few days for Havana, and hoped that the brief time
which it would allow his nephew for preparation would
leave him little or no opportunity for further interviews
with his maternal relations.

Sidney thanked his uncle for his kindness, and promised
to be ready at the required time, however soon that might
be, and then he hastened to see Addison, whom he found
in his home of poverty, diligently laboring as a scrivener,
while the beautiful Lizzie, at his side, was blinding her
young eyes over her endless tasks of needle work.

Household duties and the care of the invalid father employed
most of Mrs. Jay's time, but she still found many
hours to assist at Lizzie's needle labors, and was thus employed
when their occupation was interrupted by their welcome
visiter.

Their cordial greetings were scarcely interchanged, when
Sidney hastened to inform them of his intended journey,
and of his great regret at being obliged so soon to leave
his new found friends.

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

“And, oh! Addison,” he exclaimed, “if you could accompany
me, how happy I should be!”

Addison looked at his blind father, and at his toiling
mother and sister, with an expression that answered his
cousin's remark, and seemed to reproach him with selfishness.

“Of course you cannot,” he added, with a sigh; I did
not expect it, but I could not avoid the thought. Oh, if
there were but some way to accomplish this end; but this
dreadful poverty meets us at every turn.”

“But surely you are not going alone?” said Mrs. Jay.
“You are to have some companion or attendant?”

“I wish you were right; but I must go alone. It is
necessary to be economical, and I was indeed quite surprised
that Uncle Ralph consented to my going at all.”

“It is necessary for you to be economical, Sidney, did
you say?” asked the blind man, who, from his easy seat in
the corner, had been an attentive listener to the conversation.

“Yes, Uncle Jay.”

“And do you speak in earnest?”

“I assure you I feel very little like jesting to-day, uncle.
I am indeed in very sad earnest.”

The captain sighed, being now painfully convinced that
his nephew was really the young miser that he had been
painted, who, in the midst of untold wealth, grudged the
pittance necessary for his comfort and health. He did
not pursue his inquiries, but after a few moments' silence
Sidney mildly resumed.

“And now allow me to inquire, uncle, why you ask these
questions in so strange and earnest a way?”

Thus adjured, Captain Jay felt no delicacy in replying
more plainly.

“Because, Sidney, it seems to me very improper, not to

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

say sinful, for a young man, situated as you are, to talk
about poverty and wants. It shows a covetous disposition
and ingratitude to the Great Giver.”

“I do not know that I understand you, uncle; I know
I am sinful enough, but I really do not think I am very
covetous. I did not mean to complain, but I see no harm
in speaking of one's poverty.”

“Is it no harm for a rich man to call himself poor?—
for a man whose means are more than sufficient for all his
wants through life to talk of the necessity of being economical?”

“Most certainly; but how does this apply to me? I
am not rich—I have not the abundance you speak of—I
am literally and really a poor man!”

“Why, Sidney!” exclaimed Addison, who knew his
cousin too well to doubt that he was speaking sincerely,
“you really then believe all this! You do not know that
you are the owner of vast wealth, of which your guardian
has the possession?—that you are not an ordinarily rich
man, but a millionaire, with hundreds of tenants pouring
their golden tribute into your treasury? The house in
which your uncle resides, the magnificent block of which it
is a part—the large hotel opposite—are all entirely your
own, and form but a small part of your estate. How have
you been kept in ignorance of this?”

“Are you sure that it is true?” asked young Werter,
eagerly, and with unbounded amazement.

“Nothing can be more certain—the whole city knows it—
and I never dreamed that you were ignorant of it. Your
father was a man of immense wealth, chiefly in real estate,
which has been greatly increasing in value ever since his
death.”

Sidney remained for some moments speechless with
emotion.

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

“Come with me, Addison,” he said, at length, hurriedly
and excitedly—“I wish to talk with you a few moments
apart.”

His wrongs, and the injustice of his uncle, were the
themes which he did not wish openly to discuss. Addison,
greatly indignant, earnestly advised that he should immediately
denounce his guardian, and apply to the court
which appointed him for his removal, and the appointment
of a successor, but the young heir thought otherwise.

“It might be difficult to prove,” he said, “either that
he has wronged me, or that he intended to do so—for the
mere fact of keeping me in ignorance of my wealth has
done me no harm. I have not been kindly treated, it is
true, but my wants have all been supplied. What can we
do then, or rather what can I do that I might not better
leave undone? Litigation with a man in legal possession
of my own property, and who could use that property freely
to support his position, would be protracted and of uncertain
issue, while, in my present feeble state, the agitation and
excitement of such a contest, and the necessity of remaining
in this severe climate to conduct it, might prove in the last
degree detrimental.”

“What, then, do you propose?”

“To be quiet, and neither proclaim my new knowledge
to my uncle, nor my former ignorance to the world. If I
should live to manhood, the brief interval that lies between
me and that point will soon pass away, and then I shall
have the unquestioned control of my property. Thence-forward,
whether I live or die, you, dear Addison, shall be
no longer poor. This golden mantle which seems to have
dropped so suddenly and mysteriously on my shoulders, be
assured, shall envelope you also in its folds—soon, perhaps,
you alone.”

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