The summer's sun was throwing his parting beams over the
circular range of high, detached hills that enclosed a small village
situated near the mouth of one of the Green Mountain tributaries
of the Connecticut river. Long, wavy lines of thin, blue
smoke becoming visible in the absence of the sun, lay stretched,
with their delicate aerial tracery, from hill to hill above the
shaded hamlet, beneath which the piteous bleat of the hungry
calf, the lowing of the returning cow, the joyous shouts of children,
with other various sounds of congregated life, rose loud and
distinct, in the growing denseness of the evening air, and mingled
with the sharp, peeping cries of the night-hawk loftily careering
in the expanse above, the low, sweet trill of the retiring wood-bird,
and the clear, hurried notes of the whip-poor-will, now beginning
to burst from the woody sides of the surrounding heights.
The field-laborers were seen, with shouldered implements, leisurely
coming in from the adjoining meadows, mechanics and
other men of business leaving their shops, and all quitting their
various avocations for the day, and quietly taking their different
ways to their respective abodes.

Among these there was one personage, a man of about fifty,
on whom, as he was seen passing on horse-back up a lane to his
house, a large ancient looking building, standing aloof from all

[figure description] Page 006.[end figure description]

others, many an eye was turned with anxious or envious glances;
for his movements more or less involved the interests of a great
portion of this little community. He was the rich man of the
village. But it should have been enough for those inclined to
envy Jude Hosmer his wealth, and secretly repine, that they
could not change situations with him—it should have been
enough to cure the foolish wish, in this, as in a thousand instances
of the kind, to have scanned for a moment but his outward
appearance, to say nothing of the unknown elements of misery
within—to have noted his wasted frame, his head, prematurely
gray, dropped in deep study, his thin, sharp features, combining
in an expression of countenance, in which keen anxiety, intense,
corroding thought, and eager, grasping desire, were stamped on
every lineament, and betrayed in every glance, the whole unrelieved
by a single warming touch which spoke of sympathy, or a
single relaxing smile that betokened inward happiness.

We have termed him the rich man of the village; for he had
been so reputed ever since the death of his brother, who had been
dead about ten years, and who was known to be his full equal
in wealth. Indeed he and that brother, Colonel James Hosmer,
were the principal founders of the village, having come here
nearly thirty years before, purchased the fine water-privilege
the stream here furnished and the valuable tract of meadow land
contiguous, built mills, engaged largely, at first, in the lumbering
business, and finally in merchandise; one, as was agreed between
them, keeping a store for groceries and hard-ware, and
the other a dry goods store. And they both, in the course of
about twenty years, amassed what are considered in the country
handsome fortunes. But their fortunes were made by means as
different as their characters, which, excepting their common traits,
enterprise and industry, were as opposite as light and darkness:
Jude, the elder, the person whom we have introduced, was cold,
selfish and to the last degree grasping; while James was warm
hearted, generous and scrupulously honest. Jude never gave
anything for any purpose, had confidence in none, trusted no one
without security, and knew no mercy in the collection of his
debts. James, on the contrary, was public spirited, confiding, trusted
largely, and very rarely sued anybody. And yet Jude, with all
his parsimony, caution and exaction, found it impossible to

[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]

advance in wealth faster than his brother, who, against all the predictions
of the other, scarcely ever had the confidence he reposed
in individuals abused. People would make extra exertions to
pay one who had used them so fairly and kindly, and failing
debtors would come secretly and first secure him, leaving Old
Jude, as he was called, to pounce upon the remnant of their
property by legal process. In short, he prospered wonderfully,
and, in his noble and fortunate career, strikingly exemplified the
trite but golden maxim, “Honesty is the best policy.”

Yes, honesty is, in truth, the best and only safe policy, even
in the accumulation of wealth. Far less tact and talent are necessary
to ensure riches with honesty than success with knavery.
And we have often wondered how our young men of business,
when they cast about them among the men of millions,
the Lawrences and Astors of the land, all noted for undeviating
honesty, and then look at the Rathburns, or hundreds of others,
who have succeeded, perhaps, to considerable extent without
that great virtue, but who, with keener foresight and greater capabilities
than the former, it may be, have failed to attain a tithe
of their wealth, we have wondered how our young men could
ever shut their eyes to the fact, that, though trickery and unfair
dealing may flourish awhile, yet no great and permanent wealth
can be obtained by dishonest and unfair courses—wondered how
they can avoid seeing, that, if the latter class ever gain success
by dishonest ingenuity and overreaching, their success, with the
same capacities, would have been doubled had they pursued a
course of upright integrity, which alone can long secure that
general confidence indispensable to the acquisition of extensive
wealth.—All young men of any observation must see and acknowledge
a fact, so often and fully demonstrated in the business
community around them. And this, we should think, would be
sufficient, if no worthier motive actuated them, to induce all,
however inclined, to adopt at their outset in life, the rigid rule,
that exact honesty in dealing, with all classes, whatever slight
advantages may for the time be lost, be always religiously maintained.

At length Colonel Hosmer, to the sincere grief of all clases,
was taken away by an acute disease, leaving a widow and an
only child, a daughter of eight or nine years of age, to inherit

[figure description] Page 008.[end figure description]

his property. Jude Hosmer became administrator on his brother's
estate, and guardian of his child, on the bonds of the widow,
who in a year or two followed her husband to the grave, and
thus left the whole of the property of the deceased to his unchecked
control. Soon after this, Jude Hosmer quitted trade,
and commenced the business of usurious money-lending, buying
up mortgaged securities, disputed titles, or anything else, in
which he saw a prospect of doubling his outlay. His rapacity seemed
to increase with his age; and he was even suspected by many
of having recourse to unlawful practices to increase his wealth.
Indeed the State's Attorney of the county, at one time, thought
he had identified him as the secret vender of an immense amount
of counterfeit money, which had been saddled on community,
or found in the possession of the smaller villains arrested for
attempting to pass some of it. But before the time appointed
for the trial of the latter, part of whom, on promise of exemption
from punishment, had agreed to turn state's evidences, and
not only testify themselves to the allegations they had privately
made against Hosmer, and several of his agents still at large,
but put the government in possession of other and sufficient
proof, the whole gang escaped, having broke jail by means of
implements furnished them evidently from without, by unknown
confederates, as was said by some, while others shook their
heads but thought it prudent to keep their suspicions to themselves.
Old Jude was also twice charged before the grand jury
with the crime of procuring false witnesses in his law-suits.
And here, too, he strangely escaped by the absconding of some
witnesses and the unexpected testimony of others. But though
he thus triumphed over all, who had attempted to make him
amenable to the criminal law, and though, for awhile, he bore
all down before him in civil litigation, yet, at length, the general
suspicion that his movements had created in the public mind
began to count to his disadvantage. The current of his luck in
the law turned against him; and he lost in rapid succession,
three or four important suits, in which he had been engaged, and
with them large sums of money. It was known also that his
property must have suffered deeply in several heavy speculations,
into which, goaded on by his avarice, he had gambler-like
rashly entered by way of retrieving the bad fortunes that had

[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]

latterly attended him. Still he was supposed to be immensely rich
in his own property, besides having the use of that of his ward.
As to the latter, however, he had given out, especially since his
own reverses, that his brother's property had been strangely
overrated; and that in consequence of large debts, that had
been unexpectedly brought against it, and the failure of securities,
little or nothing, after meeting the expenses of settling the
estate and defending titles, would be left for the heir over what
had been expended in her maintenance and education.

Such had been the history—as far as could be known to the
public of the affairs of one, who so closely kept his dark counsels
to himself,—such the history and ungenial character of Jude
Hosmer, whom we will now accompany to his abode, which had
been anything but a blest one: For most of his children had
died early, a son, who arrived at maturity, became a drunkard
and died miserably, and his only remaining child, a married but
childless daughter had become insane. And his family, at this
time consisted only of his wife, a weak, sickly, querulous woman,
her nurse nad maid of all work, a blear-eyed old thing
with just sense enough to make a good drudge, a deaf, surly
looking servant boy, nearly grown, and lastly, Miss Lucy Hosmer,
the niece and ward already mentioned, a lovely and high-minded
girl, now in the first fresh bloom of womanhood, and
standing here in singular contrast with the ill-assorted inmates
of this cheerless domicil.

CHAPTER II.

[figure description] Page 010.[end figure description]

As Old Jude now rode into the yard his restless eyes at once
fell on the partially disclosed forms of his niece and a young
gentleman occupying two windows opening from the parlor towards
the garden, and immediately his usually severe and bitter
countenance assumed an expression of unwonted asperity.
Leaping from his horse with an air of nervous irritation, he
made a few rapid strides towards the barn and began to bawl
loudly and angrily to the servant boy we have named, who stood
leaning over the fence heedlessly gazing at the yarded cows.

“Shack! I say, Shack! Shack Rogers! do you hear, you
deaf booby?—come here, then, and take care of this horse.”

“Um?—what?—oh, yes,” replied the other, at length rousing
up and coming forward.

“Shack,” said the old man going up closely to the other, as
he handed him the bridle-reins, and speaking in his ear, “do
you know who that is in the parlor with Lucy?”

“Um?—what?—Oh—why, yes—Lot Fisher, the young lawyer—
guess—an't sartin—the one that used to live with 'Squire
Stacy down in the street, you know.”

“How long has he been here?”

“Um? Oh 'bout two hours, guess—took tea—may be three.”

“Has he ever been here before, when I was away?”

“Um? Oh, yes, think likely, but not so long, guess.”

“What does the fellow want here?”

“Um? Oh,—don't know—may be Lucy does,” added the
speaker, with a knowing wink of the off eye.

“Look here, Shadrack,” said the old man complaisantly addressing
the other by his true name, instead of the usual contraction,
“I want you should tell me if that fellow comes here
again in my absence. Be still about it; but keep a little eye on
their movements, and I'll do what is right—I'll pay you something
extra.”

[figure description] Page 011.[end figure description]

“What's right, hey?” muttered Shack to himself, as he led
the horse away to the stable—“Do what is right, hey, old head—
'twould be plaguy strange if you should do any thing that's
next door neighbor to right. Extra pay for keeping an eye on
them, hey? Yes, I'll keep an eye on them, old chap, without
pay, but in a way you don't think of, may be.”

With knitted brow, Old Jude took his way towards the kitchen
where he encountered the old house-maid, before described,
shaking a fine damask table cloth at the door. “So Tabby,
you have been getting tea for those parlor gentry, eigh,” said he,
sneeringly.

“Why, la!—why, yes, Sir,” replied the other turning up her
great white eyes deprecatingly to the angry face of her master.

“And you made a great parade, I'll warrant it?” resumed the
former, in the same tone.

“Why, goodness, now! Why, Lucy ordered tea in the dining-room
with the reg'lar company things—be sure she did; and
I didn't know you'd got objections, or I'd never done it in the
born world, Mr. Hosmer,” said the girl in a fluster.

Old Jude made no further remark, but after musing a moment
made his way directly for the parlor, and unceremoniously entered
the room, where the lovers, for such they might in truth
be called, were sitting happy in the interchange of congenial
thought and feeling, and wholly unconscious of the domestic
storm that was about to burst upon them.

“I didn't know that you was going to have company, this afternoon,
Lucy,” said the old man in a voice tremulous with suppressed
passion, as he turned abruptly on the astonished girl,
without deigning a look or word to her companion.

“Nor did I, myself, scarcely,” she responded with some confusion—
“But if I had,” she continued with increasing firmness,
and spirit, “if I had known certainly that Mr. Fisher was to
call this afternoon, I should have not considered it necessary,
perhaps, to apprise you of the fact, Uncle.”

“Mr. Fisher?” said the former tauntingly, without pretending
to heed what she said, except the name of the person she mentioned,—
“Mr. Fisher?—who is Mr. Fisher?”

“Why, you certainly have not forgotten Mr. Fisher, Uncle—
the young gentleman that studied law with Squire Stacy,”

[figure description] Page 012.[end figure description]

answered the girl, turning on the other a searching and reproachful
look.

“Fisher!” pursued the old man with a disdainful snuff. “Lot
Fisher, the illegitimate boy that Stacy got from a poor-house
down south somewhere?”

“Yes, Sir, the same!” promptly said the young man elevating
a head that might have served as a model for an Appollo, and
turning his clear, frank, self-possessed countenance full on the
other.

“O, is it,” returned the former, in the same sneering tone,
without looking up,—“I was not aware, that I ever invited you
here, Sir.”

“Mr. Hosmer,” rejoined the young man, still courting the
averted gaze of the old man, “this is very hard to bear, but as it
is in your own house, I will try to do it without losing temper.
I am here without invitation from you, it is true, for I did not
suppose you would expect me to wait for one, if I desired to
come. But I wish to make no secret of my business here, Sir,—
It was to address Miss Hosmer with the view to a future connection
with me, and with the intention, if she did not discourage
my suit, of consulting you early on the subject.”

“Consulting! umph! really! It would'nt require much consulting
to get my mind on that matter. If Lucy can't look anywhere
but among illegitimates and town-paupers for a future
connection, as you call it, I think she better not form one at all.”

So saying the old man turning hastily on his heel, shuffled
out of the room and slammed the door after him, leaving the
distressed and deeply offended girl in tears, and her insulted
companion pacing the room in silence, and struggling hard to
maintain the mastery over his outraged feelings.

“Miss Hosmer,” said the young man pausing before her after
quelling his emotions in a good degree,—

The girl raised her tearful eyes to the face of the other with
a look full of tenderness and respect, when, with a softened and
less formal tone, he resumed.

“Lucy, when I offered you my hand, at our former interview,
it was done with much hesitation, and the openly expressed
fears, that the circumstances, of which your uncle has so harshly
taken advantage, would be made, in case you accepted me, a

[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]

source of pain and mortification to you by the evil minded. The
trial, as you now see, is already begun,—to be repeated, I know
not how often, through life. And if, from this foretaste, you begin
to wish it, Lucy, I will relinquish my suit from this hour,
and with it, of course, all hopes of that union, to which I have
been looking forward with so many sweet anticipations of happiness.”

“I was not looking for such an appeal from you, Lot,” responded
the other again looking up with an expression of disappointment
and regret. “I remember what you said at the interview,
to which you allude; and I remember, also, you added, that, as
for yourself, you should never be disturbed by those circumstances;
for those who were worthy your esteem would never, in
thought or word, disparage you on that account; and that no
others would have the power to wound you. To this I assented,
as a just remark, and assured you, that if you could thus reason
and endure, I certainly ought not, and should not, allow such a
thing to disturb me. Has any thing now occurred, Lot, to lead
you to discredit the sincerity of my assurances, or doubt my consistency
and firmness?”

“No, Lucy,” replied the young man with a breast swelling
with emotions of gratitude and admiration,—“No, noble—noble
girl; but when I saw you in tears”—

“It was not that,”—quickly interposed the other,—“nothing of
that kind, Lot. I indeed felt wounded—deeply wounded—insulted
by my uncle; for I was insulted, as much as you, by his
treatment of company, whom I chose to receive, and whose respectability
he knew as well as myself—ay, insulted by my uncle,
my only near surviving relative, whom I so wished to love! It
was a bitter thought!—I could not have believed he would ever
have treated his dead brother's daughter so shamefully.”

“Then, dear girl, I am to feel assured, that, for aught that has
now happened, I stand with you as before?”

“As well, most certainly—perhaps I should say better—your
forbearance and manly conduct under such trying circumstances
should raise you in my esteem,—at all events it will be highly
appreciated. But I must not allow you to infer from this, any
final answer to your proposals. I would first have you received

[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]

here as you should be. My uncle, as you must know, has great
faults and peculiarities; but I would preserve his character in
spite of himself, and induce him to take a course that will be for
the credit and happiness of us both. In short, I would have his
consent to any union I may form.”

“His consent to a union with me, I fear, you will never have,
Lucy,” said Lot despondingly.

“We do not know that,” rejoined she, “he may have other
objections to you than those he has led you to infer. He is a
man, I am sorry to say, whose motives are often deeply masked.”

“It may be,” said the former, “that I have been misrepresented
to him; and when disabused, he may consent. And if he
should?—you have not yet said what you should then do,
Lucy.”

“Why how dull you are!” she playfully responded with reddening
cheek.

“Ay, but the words,” persisted the lover, “the comforting
words, Lucy,—what should you do then?”

“Why—why, of course, I should submit to my Lot,” she replied,
as blushing and laughing at her inadvertent pun, she dropped
her head on that fondly, proudly throbbing bosom, which,
at that moment, a moment ever fearfully important to the sex,
she had thus virtually chosen for weal or for wo,—that bosom,
on which—such is woman!—she must now depend for the only
talisman of her earthly happiness in the allotted calm and sunshine
of life—her only refuge in its never failing storms and
reverses.”

The lovers, not deeming it expedient to attempt any more interviews
in this house at present, agreed on a future correspondence
by letter, or perhaps such occasional meetings at the house
of a mutual friend in the village, as opportunity should permit;
and having settled this, they were on the point of separating,
when Old Jude, not satisfied with the abuse he had already offered
Fisher, or irritated that he still presumed to linger, hastily
reentered the room, and began to repeat his insults in terms even
more aggravating than before. But failing to elicit this time a
single word of reply from the young man he seemed to lose all

[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

his patience, and, suddenly pointing to the outer entrance, exclaimed,

“There is the way out, Sir—there is the door; and while I
live here don't let me see you darken it again.”

The young man deliberately took his hat, and bowing an
adieu to Miss Hosmer, departed in silence.

“Well, well,” said the old man, in an attempted jocular tone,
as he turned to his niece with the air of one ready to apologize
or conciliate.

But his niece, without paying the least attention to his words
or manner, brushed by him with an air of chilling dignity, and
immediately quitted the room, leaving the nonplussed old man
to digest his spleen and enjoy his reflections by himself.

As to Lot, he soon found his way into the street, but he scarcely
knew how he had done so; for now, when he came to be
alone, and relaxed the curb of self-control which he had so successfully
imposed upon himself, his bosom became a perfect
turmoil of conflicting emotions. Although his heart had been
made to bound with happiness by the gratifying proofs he had
received of the niece's love, and the noble traits of character on
which he might rely for its continuance, yet that cup of happiness
had been sadly dashed by the treatment of the uncle. That
delicacy, which he had naturally felt before his mistress, had
been rudely shocked, his pride humbled, and his whole feelings
outraged; and chagrin, vexation and resentment, in all their
mingled power, took possession of his breast, for awhile over-mastering
all the better feelings of his heart, which usually so
strongly predominate there, and driving him almost to curse
those who had been the instruments of an origin, which now,
for the first time in his life, perhaps, he was ready to pronounce
a reproach.

While struggling under the influence of such feelings, as he
was slowly pursuing his way, with drooping head and abstracted
mien, towards the inn where he had left his horse, the hand
of some one, who had overtaken him unperceived, was laid
familiarly on his shoulder, with a good-natured,

“Hurra to you, Lot!—is this you, moping along with a gait
so unlike your usual one?—what has happened to you?”

[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

“Squire Stacy!” exclaimed the other, starting, “You have
fairly taken me by surprise.”

“Ay,” rejoined the former, a very plain, but well favored,
keen eyed man of the middle age, “Ay, doubtless, but that don't
answer my question.—You look disturbed; something is wrong
with you, Lot,—where have you been?”

“Why, really, Squire Stacy,” said Lot, with a half offended,
remonstrating air, “you really press me very hard about”—

“About that which is none of my business, eigh?” interrupted
the Squire with good natured bluntness—“true enough, I presume;
but what other than a friendly motive do you suppose I
have for so particular an enquiry, Lot?”

“None, none, certainly,” replied the former relaxing. “And
you are right; for who is so well entitled to my confidence, as a
consulting friend, as you, Squire Stacy. You shall know:—I
have been to visit your fair favorite, Miss Lucy Hosmer.”

“I suspected so, Lot. And your reception has not been such
as you had hoped, I suppose?”

“From Lucy herself it has been—even more—but her uncle,
unexpectedly obtruding himself, insulted me beyond bearing;
and not content with that, finally turned me out of doors.”

“Indeed?—Do you mean to be understood literally?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I should hardly thought that of Old Jude. What could
be his motive in taking that foolish course to break off the match?
I confess I don't now see, though I very well understand why
he will oppose it. But stay—did you lose your temper and retort
upon him?”

“No, I governed myself perfectly, though I wonder how I
did.”

“That is well—very well—thanks to my training, eigh, Lot?”

“I confess it—otherwise I must have all but struck him.”

“Ay, and defeated yourself with both uncle and niece. But
one serious question to you, Lot. Why do you seek a union
with Lucy Hosmer? Do you want her for herself, or for her
money?”

“For herself, certainly. You surprise me by the question; for
I have understood she would have no property, or very little

[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]

Indeed, she once incidentally told me herself, that her uncle
had notified her to that effect. And were it otherwise, I had
hoped you entertained such opinions of my general motives as
would render that question unnecessary.”

“Well I do Lot, as far as you are aware yourself of your
leading motives in a given case, but we are all so constituted,
that we do not always realize what influences most contribute to
form our motives, or rather what our wishes would be, in a case,
if certain influences did not—perhaps unconsciously, operate on
us. But one question more—does Lucy love you?”

“I flatter myself it is so. Indeed I can no longer doubt it.”

“Well, Lot, I am now satisfied with your motives towards
that noble girl, the lovely inheritor of all her father's sterling
worth. I believe, also, you are worthy of her; and I think I
can promise you success.”

“You? you promise me success?”

“Yes, I—for I think I can. This doubtless sounds strange to
you, but it will appear less so when you hear certain developments,
which it is now expedient, perhaps, that I should make
to you.”

“It may be so; but I doubt it. She will not marry me without
her uncle's consent, which I have every reason to believe
will be withheld. And besides every means will doubtless be
employed to destroy me in her present good opinion, and I fear
with eventual success.”

“Poo! Lot, faint heart, eigh? I see you have not so high
an opinion of the girl as I have, after all. But come, let us go
into my office, where we can be free from intrusion. I have,
as I just intimated, some confidential disclosures to make to
you.”

But before following them to the proposed conference, we
will glance at the character and previous career of Stacy, together
with so much of the early history of our hero, as may
serve to explain the nature of the connection between them, and
the unpleasant circumstances attending the origin of the latter
to which allusion has already been made.

CHAPTER III.

[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]

Squire Stacy, as he was always called, who was the village
lawyer, was very generally acknowledged to be a strictly honest,
and in his way, a good hearted man. But as he was eccentric
and never did anything like other people, his acts and motives
were not always rightly appreciated, except by those who
intimately knew him. He was also so shrewd in reading the
characters and motives of others, and in detecting their weaknesses
and faults, that he was more dreaded than loved generally
by the villagers, who usually kept aloof from him, unless they
desired his professional services, on which they very justly placed
the utmost reliance: For many of the very traits that had prevented
him from being a favorite in social life, had contributed
doubtless, to success in his profession, in which he had acquired
an honest fame and a fair competence. But we need not enlarge
on his peculiar traits, for they will be shown sufficiently
for our purpose in that characteristic act of his life which involved
the fortunes of the young friend in whom we have seen
him take so great an interest.

About a dozen years before the period of our story, as Stacy,
one day, was returning on horseback from a neighboring town,
where he had been to attend a justice's court he stopped at a watertrough
by the side of the road near two or three poor looking dwellings.
And while awaiting the slow and dallying motions of
his horse in drinking, he amused himself in watching the motions
of a group of boys playing near the spot, and in indulging
in what, to him, was always a favorite employment, that of trying
to read their individual characters, present and prospective.
His eye first fell on a boy much larger than the rest, who was
unfeelingly domineering over a little timid fellow, wholly unable
to defend himself.

“Everything there shows the brute and coward for life, and his
actions confirm it,” said the Squire to himself. “Now for another.

[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

And his eye next rested on a straight, compactly built little
fellow, standing on a flat rock, with no other clothing on him
than a coarse, ragged shirt, and a still more ragged pair of trowsers,
with one of the legs entirely torn off as high as the knee.

“Ah! now there is something worth studying in that boy,
ragged as the little Lazarus is,” said the Squire with interest---
“head, face, features, all faultless! and that expression! Why,
an almost perfect model of promising indications! But let us
look now for some exhibition of character.”

And with increasing interest he watched the boy's countenance,
which with alternating expressions of indignation and
pity, was keenly bent on the scene enacting between the hectoring
big boy and his distressed little victim.

“Zeke Doty!” presently exclaimed the ragged subject of the
Squire's observations, leaping from his stand on the rock, and
advancing a step towards the bully, “Can't see that any longer!—
can't have it!”

“Hoo!” sneeringly replied the other, “Seems to me, if I was
one of the town's poor, and a come-by-chance to boot, I should n't
crow quite so loud. I will do as I please, for all you, sir.”

“No you won't!” rejoined the former. “You let that little
fellow alone, and stop calling me names, or I'll fight you!”

The great boy, however, only jeered the more, and was beginning
to worry his victim again; when the other flew at him
with such resolution, and followed up his blows with so much
effect, in spite of the hard knocks he received himself, that his
antagonist, though of nearly twice his size, soon yielded and
took to his heels.

“Well done!” exclaimed the Squire. “Ah! I was right---all
the elements of a firm and noble nature stand revealed in that
single act, and intellect I know he has. If I could but have
the training of that boy---and why not? I want a boy, and he
may want a place. Let's talk with him a little.”

“Well, my lad,” said he, riding up to the boy, who was wiping
the blood from his nose, “you have got pretty badly hurt, haven't
you?”

“Some, but not so much as he did, I guess,” coolly answered
the boy.

“What is your name?”

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

“Lot Fisher.”

“Who is your father?”

“Don't know, sir. My mother's name was Hannah Fisher;
but she is dead now; and I live with Mr. Bean, who makes
shoes in that house, there.”

“Would you like to come and live with me, at the village?”

“Don't know but I should---what do you do when you are at
home?”

“I am a lawyer.”

“But they say lawyers do lie so---”

“That is a story you got from those who had lost their cases.
I don't lie, and I would not have a boy that would.”

“I'll go then, if Mr. Bean will let me.”

“Very well, we will go and talk with him,” said the Squire,
riding up and calling the shoemaker to the door.

“Well, what about this boy, Sir?” he asked, as the man
made his appearance, “have you any claims to him?”

“Why not in particular, Squire Stacy, I believe it is. The
boy being one of the town's poor, I bid him off, you see, about
three years agone to keep at a quarter of a dollar a week, besides
what I could get out of him; and so have kept him till
this year, when the selick men said he was old enough to earn
his way, and if I didn't want him, I must get a place for him,
which, seeing he didn't seem to take to my trade, I thought I
should.”

“That you can do easily. I'll take him off your hands.”

“What, for yourself? I don't know but I oughter tell you
the boy was kinder unfortunate about his birth.”

“So much the better—he will then know he must depend on
himself. But can he go now?”

“Why, yes, s'pose so.”

“Well, let him on with his hat and jacket, then.”

“He did have a hat,” said the man, “though I guess he has
lost it. But where's your jacket, Lot?”

“Why 'twant good for nothing,” replied the boy, “and when
I laid it down 'tother day, the hogs tore the last sleeve off.”

“Never mind,” said the Squire, “leap up here behind me and
we'll off in a tangent for home.”

Lot was accordingly mounted, in his scanty rags, without hat

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

or coat, behind the eccentric Squire, who, in this manner, proceeded
on his route, entered and rode through the village, heedless
of the wonder or sly looks of the villagers, and, landing the
boy at his house, installed him at once in his new home.

Stacy had judged correctly of the native character of the boy,
but he soon perceived that much must be done for him in the
way of instruction and guidance, else the strong traits of disposition
and intellect he possessed, which, under judicious management
might make him a useful and perhaps a distinguished
man, would make him very likely, if left to the guidance of
chance, a curse to the community, of which he should be an ornament.
The Squire, therefore, in pursuance of his own notions
on such matters, commenced his system of training; and
his first step was to inspire the boy with self-respect, by dressing
him as well as any of the boys of the village—by always treating
him with respectful kindness, and by never failing to praise
every good action, and only to express regret and sorrow at his
misbehavior and faults. This course, with the instruction constantly
accompanying it, transformed him, in a very few years,
from the wild, impulsive creature he was at first, into the most
obedient and docile of boys. In the mean time, he was allowed
the advantages of schools—the common schools till he was well
grounded in the rudiments of learning, and then the classical;
but of the latter, only enough to whet the intellectual appetite,
to teach him how to learn—to study on his own strength, and in
short, to think for himself. And such was his progress, and general
improvement in every thing, that at eighteen he was permitted
to enter on a regular course of studies in the law office,
at twenty one he was admitted as a practitioner at the bar, in
the county, with acquisitions both scientific and legal far superior
to many a graduate from college and law schools; when,
with the advice of his master, he settled, under the most flattering
auspices, in a neighboring village. Let us now return to
the thread of our narrative where we left it.

“Now Lot,” said the Squire, after they had taken a seat by
themselves in the office, “what do you imagine to be the true
cause of Old Jude's opposition to your proposed union with his
niece?”

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

“I certainly do not know, unless, as he led me to suppose, it
be the circumstances connected with my origin.”

“Not by any means: He cares not two straws for that; and
if the blind god had not made your eyes a little filmy, when
you look in that direction, I think your usual sagacity would
have enabled you to see that such a cause would be wholly
without effect on such a man as Old Jude, who as regards the
social relations, or any of the claimed proprieties and distinctions
in society, not involving the matter of dollars and cents, has no
more moral perceptions than a horse.”

“True, and I confess I was surprised to be called to meet objections
of that kind in him. It was then as I had partly anticipated,
want of wealth, was it?”

“No—as closely as the old man hugs money bags for himself,
that, if I read his dark character aright, is not the true secret
here.”

“Why, what can be his objection, then?”

“It is because you are a lawyer.”

“A lawyer!”

“Yes, a lawyer—such an one, at least, as he probably thinks
you will make, and especially one who stands in the relation
you do to me.”

“Your words are still too much of a riddle for my comprehension.”

“I presume so, and will be till you hear my story, which you
shall now have:—

Colonel Hosmer, when, in his last sickness, he found he could
not recover, sent for me, who had ever been his friend and legal
adviser, and earnestly requested me to accept the trust of administering
on his estate after his decease, and of becoming the
guardian of his daughter; his wife, he said, being too feeble in
health, and otherwise unequal to the management of so large a
property. I apprised him that his brother, in such a case, could
by our statute, claim those trusts; and I thought he would never
consent to forego his right and suffer a rival estate to go into
other hands. He then proposed making a brief will and me the
executor. That place I, also, firmly declined, knowing how
much Old Jude's persecutions, were to be dreaded by those who
crossed him where he concieved he had interests at stake. The

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

Colonel, who appeared disappointed at my refusal, then remarked,
by way of explaining the reason of his request, that though
his property would probably be safe in his brother's hands, should
the latter continue to be prospered, yet should he meet with any
great reverses in his own affairs, temptations might arise, to
which it were better for all parties that he should not be exposed.
The Colonel then asked, and finally drew from me a solemn promise
that if his brother took charge of his property, as he supposed
he must, that I would keep an observant eye on the manner the
trust was discharged, see that his wife and daughter were never
wronged, and in all things, act towards them as a friend and
father. He then handed me what he assured me was an exact
inventory of all his property, together with an appended schedule
of all debts honestly due from him, duplicates of which, it
seems he had prepared and kept for an emergency like the present
one. With these papers, which I have kept under lock and
key ever since, I left my dying friend, who, as I understood sent
immediately for Old Jude, proposed to him the same trusts he
had offered me, and, in the last words he ever uttered, charged
him to be kind and just to the widow and fatherless. So you
see now, Lot, why I should interest myself in all that concerns
the family of my lamented friend.”

“I do. But have you contrived to keep up all the while this
supervision of their affairs without the fact being known? As
long as I lived with you I never knew or suspected anything of
the kind.”

“No, nor any others, I presume. Yes, I have kept it up with
anxious vigilance. At the time I accepted this secret, and certainly
very unusual trust, and for several years after, I had not,
it is true, but little expectation of ever being called to exercise
it, except in the mere offices of friendship. But it was not long
before I began to have reasons to think otherwise. And my suspicions
being thus early aroused, I have traced Old Jude, from
that time up to the present, through all his secret and subtle
windings of iniquity, not only respecting his brother's afairs, but
his own, which, in the way he was managing, I thought it part
of my duty to investigate.”

“Do you then think him guilty of managing to defraud his
niece and ward of a portion of her property?”

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

“If he claims any af the property that now passes for his, I
do,—not only a portion, but the whole.”

“What, Sir! how am I to understand you, Mr. Stacy?”

“That, if Lucy was paid off all that justly belongs to her,
Old Jude would not be left with a shilling in the world!”'

“You astonish me! and I can scarcely realize this of the so
generally accounted rich Jude Hosmer; nor can I conceive how
it can be, that with his sharpness, with his extreme economy in
family expenses, and with no vices to impoverish him, he has
not even gained instead of losing property.”

“True he has sharpness in deal, even to the most unconscionable
exaction,economy to pinching, and none of what you mean
by vices; but instead of the latter, he has pursued, instigated
by his insatiable thirst for gain, a course of secret crimes,
and it was this which, at length, proved the principal source and
means of his impoverishment and losses. He began at first by
bribing witnesses in his law-suits; and his success for awhile,
as is often the case with those who enter on a career of crime,
blinded him to the final consequences. These bribed men under
threats of exposing him, or of volunteering to those seeking
new trials in important suits, to do away or explain their former
testimony, have continued to make fearful drafts on his purse.
Besides this, the public became so generally impressed with a
belief in his foul practices, that after a while he stood not even
a fair chance of obtaining his just rights before our courts and
juries; and he consequently lost several heavy suits, when he
ought to have recovered. He next went into the purchase and
sale of counterfeit bank bills, of which you recollect, there were
suspicions afloat at the time. Well, Sir, the story of those prisoners
whom he doubtless helped to escape was all true; and yet
it embraced only one branch of his extensive operations, in
which, finally to save himself from infamy and a prison, he had
to silence a combination of his accomplices and agents, who found
it safer and easier to plunder him than the public, by paying them,
in all enormous sums of money. And having had quite enough
of this, and become almost desperate by his losses, he lastly, in
seeming exemplification of the noted adage “whom God would
destroy he first makes mad,” plunged into heavy speculations in
the paper cities, then just got up, as a test on human gullibility,

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

one would think, and this gave the finishing blow to his own
private property.”

“But is it not generally understood,” asked Lot, “that his
brother's estate, at the same time, has turned out badly through
unexpected indebtedness and defective titles?”

“Yes, but that story all come from Old Jude, and has been
given out from time to time, during the past half dozen years, to
prepare the public mind for a quiet accomplishment of his designs
on the estate.”

“What first led you to suspect any such designs on this
estate?”

“Why, I was not quite satisfied, at the outset, that he should
have taken out letters of administration and guardianship on the
bonds of the widow alone, and I think the court should have
required further bonds, in so large an estate; but he declining
to procure other signers, the court, knowing him to be very
wealthy, appointed him on the bonds he offered. I did not like
the aspect of the thing, however, at the time, I remember; for it
looked to me, as if he was glancing at the probability of his wishing
some day to appropriate a portion of this estate to himself,
and was thus guarding himself against the troubles that might
arise in being watched and called to account by bondsmen.”

“But at the death of the widow was he not required to give
new bonds, and by that time, also, to settle the estate?”

“Yes, he was notified to that effect, and here the Judge of
Probate was clearly delinquent in duty in not enforcing its requirements.
But as he appeared so willing to give new bonds
when the subject was named to him, though he always had some
plausible excuse for not doing it then, and as every one considered
him so rich that it could only be necessary as a matter of
form, he has been always suffered to pass on without any bond
but his own. And so he has managed with regard to a-settlement
with the court. The great bulk of the estate was in notes
and mortgaged securities, of which he never returned any inventory,
and having pretended to sell the real estate to pay debts
and expenses, the amount and situation of the estate were, as he
supposed, known only to himself. Well, though he was several
times told by the different judges, that he ought to settle, yet as
he seemed always willing, though never quite ready, he was

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

permitted to glide along, as with his bonds, partly through the
negligence of the judges, there being no one interested that could
call him to an account, and partly through their fears of attempting
to enforce the law on a man of his influence: For in addition
to the power incident to wealth, Old Jude was often a warm
politician, when he could make anything by it, and always contrived
to exercise so much influence in the election of the judges,
that they were made to feel that their term of office was in a
great measure in his hands. Thus in regard to the management
of this estate. I have sometimes thought I could see an almost
literal fulfillment of the significant words of one of the old prophets
respecting the approaching corruptions of the Hebrew government—
The great man uttereth his mischievous desire, and so
they wrap it up.”

“All this looks, indeed, like a forearming for the excution of
some such design as you alledge; but how far has he proceeded
in fact?”

“So far that little remains to be done. About the time he
met with the first serious reverses in his own fortune, which I
have named, he commenced changing the notes and securities of
his brother's estate into his own name; and I soon found, that
just about in proportion as he lost his own property, he prepared
the way for embezzling that of his ward. And thus, in realization
of his brother's fears, he has gone on till he has destroyed,
as he believes, all evidence, by which any parcel or portion of
that property can be identified. These acts, with many more I
could name, when taken in connection with what he has latterly
declared to his niece and others about the failure of the estate,
afford sufficient proof not only of the intention, but the act, of
embezzling the whole of his brother's extensive property, or at
least turning its rightful owner off with some paltry setting out
in furniture. But with all his precautions, he will be afraid of
the investigation his course might have to undergo, in case his
niece married one whom he could not hope to blind.”

“And has he never suspected you in the part you have been
secretly acting?”

“I think he has; but he is by no means aware how much I
know of him. And not suspecting my motives and the moral
obligations I am under to ferret out his misdeeds, he probably
thinks what I do know will only be made use of in making up

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

a bad opinion of him. But he evidently fears me; and he has
much more reason to do so than he dreams of; for in following
him in matters that really concerned me to know, I have become
possessed, as I before intimated, of most, if not all, of the dangerous
secrets of his dark, tortuous and plotting career. And I
tell you, Lot Fisher, that Old Jude Hosmer, as much as he is
feared and courted by others, and as firmly and as strongly as he
thinks he has planted himself, stands tottering on a precipice,
from which I think I have the power to hurl him to destruction.”

“This is as new to me as it is surprising,” said Lot, thoughtfully,
“but how do you propose to make use of this power?”

“To compel him to do justice to his niece. If he will do this,
his crimes against the State, as the occasion has passed by, shall
be kept still secret, if he offends no more. But should he refuse
the condition I shall place before him, and attempt to stand out,
he must then be overthrown by every means that can be brought
to bear upon him And you, Lot, must be the man, as the husband
of Lucy Hosmer, to take the lead in fighting the great battle
which will then ensue.”

“If I was the husband of Miss Hosmer, I should probably
take proper measures to secure her rights; but as I am not, and
have not the least authority to act for her, how do you propose
that I should avail myself of the knowledge you have imparted?”

“I would lay the whole case before her. She will keep the
secret; and she will, also, have the sense to perceive, that her
interest and her happiness alike require, that she make you, as
soon as she is of age, her legal protector, whether her uncle consent
or not.”

“No,” said Lot, after a thoughtful pause, “I can never do that
All that I could say would be but to tell her, in effect, that she
was entitled to a fortune—that I would prosecute her uncle and
recover it, if she would marry me. No, never! It would carry
with it an air of mercenary calculation, that I will never have
associated with my name.”

“I spoke as a lawyer, you have spoken as a lover. And perhaps
it is well for us, in this mercenary world, that there is one
passion devoid of selfishness. I am not surprised that you take
this view of the subject. Still the emergency seems to require

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

that some step to apprise Lucy of her rights should be taken soon—
before she is of age, which is some time this year, I think. It
would probably alter her resolution about waiting for her uncle's
consent to her marriage. And besides this, there is danger that
Old Jude, as soon as she can legally act for herself, will be coaxing
her into a settlement, which, unless she is previously informed
of her rights, he will have in his own way. Perhaps I had
better see her myself.”

“You should be the one, if any body; but remember I can
give you no authority; nor do I wish you, when communicating
with her, to connect my name, in any way, with the subject.”

“Certainly not; for I can appreciate the delicacy of the circumstances
under which you are placed. But if I should conclude
to have a talk with Old Jude, as I may, I should directly
urge his consent to her union with you, hinting enough of what
I know, if I could not get along without, to bring him to a compliance.
For I can see, that no strong steps can be taken to secure
Lucy's estate, which is greater than you even now dream
of, till your union with her. Then, if you and she wish it, I
shall be ready to act, not only with all my skill as a lawyer, but
with all my good will as a friend to you both.”

“You know, Squire Stacy, how certainly I should retain you
in any case which I could strictly call my own; and I doubt not
Lucy would as certainly do the same. But, at present, I can
only thank you for your kind intentions.”

“Ay, Lot, but you may expect I shall be acting a little in anticipation
of the only legal authority under which I can ever act;
for no such authority, you are aware, could be conferred in the
secret trust I accepted from Lucy's father. But whatever move
I may make, it will be done with the utmost caution, and in a
manner, perhaps, that you may not, at the time, comprehend;
for expedients of no common character may be required to meet
the doublings of my subtle opponent, who is really more to be
dreaded, in a contest of this kind, than any three lawyers in the
land. And here, before we part, let me enjoin the same caution
and vigilance on you, not only in keeping all I have told you a
profound secret, but by placing a double guard on your whole
conduct. I know you have the best of all shields against the
shafts of enemies and opponents of all kinds, a good moral character.
But Old Jude is no ordinary opponent, and you know not

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

what means he may resort to by way of preventing a connection,
in which he doubtless sees much to fear.”

The conference here ended and the parties rose to leave the
place; when their attention was attracted by a slight ruffling
noise, as of hastily moved paper, in the back room of the office,
the door between the two rooms being sufficiently ajar to admit
the sound. The Squire instantly went into the room, and, drawing
up the paper curtain, which hung down over an open window
in the rear of the building, and which had doubtless occasioned
the noise, looked out, but discovered no person, though an
eaves-dropper, owing to a line of shrubbery, that stood near the
building, could have easily escaped undetected.

“I was careless in leaving that door ajar, and still more so in
not shutting down that window,” said the Squire, as they now
left the office; “but I think it could have been only some slight
puff of wind that ruffled the curtain, so our secret is still with
ourselves, I presume.”

CHAPTER IV.

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

The night which followed these agitating events, was not,
as may be easily imagined, one of very calm repose to either of
the lovers: For as they retired to their respective rooms, now
many miles apart, and laid their heads on their solitary pillows,
the occurrences of the day, so deeply interesting to the feelings,
and so important to the future destinies of both, were made to
pass again and again in review before them. And while the
blissful sensations, flowing from their own and the consciousness
of each other's love, grew more rapturous in the retrospect, the
unprovoked treatment they had received, now that the feeling of
resistance, with which the bosom is apt to arm itself to meet the
infliction of a wrong, had passed away, was felt with double
poignancy. Lot's feelings, in respect to this treatment, it is true,
had been somewhat modified by Stacy's developments, which
were calculated to lessen the effect of Old Jude's conduct on one
of his character; but, as much as these developments had quieted
his feelings in some respects, they added to his uneasiness
in others. He now felt himself placed in a new and somewhat
embarrassing position. He knew not what fierce battles for
property, and, perhaps, for character, in which his motives would
doubtless be impugned, were about to be fought over his head.
And besides this, the beautiful girl he had wooed in the confidence
arising from supposed equality in pecuniary circumstances,
now stood before him as a wealthy heiress; and he could not
prevent new doubts and fears from arising in his mind, lest, when
this should be known, his humble claims would be made to give
place to more advantageous offers. The consciousness, however,
of pure motives—of the fact, that he had offered her his hand
when he supposed her destitute of wealth, together with his faith
in her character and constancy, at length, in a good degree, prevailed
over his doubts and conquered his uneasiness in this

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

respect. But though he might be able to quell these lover-like
troubles by the deep trust which he felt he could place in Miss
Hosmer, so long as she should be left to follow the dictates of her
own unbiased judgment, yet doubts and fears far less easily disposed
of now arose for the effect of the machinations which this
new insight into the motives and character of her uncle assured
him would be put in train to prejudice or deceive her, and break
off the connection. And the more he looked forward to the
probable difficulties in his path, and reviewed the slender, silken
thread of love, which led to the desired consummation, and
which, in all cases, is so easily snapped asunder, the less was
his hope that it could withstand the many rude shocks that it
was doubtless destined to receive.

With Lucy the case was considerably varied. She, having,
by this time, no suspicions that the situation and extent of her
property was any different from what her uncle had, for so many
years, been artfully preparing her to believe, and consequently
being ignorant of the deep motives he had to drive away the
suitor of her choice,—she could not bring herself to believe that
his opposition, whether grounded on the inadequate reasons he
had held out, or any other prejudice, would long be persevered
in. Although, sooner than she intended, she had been brought
virtually to engage herself, in her sympathy for her lover under
his ill usage, and in admiration of his manly conduct on the occasion,
yet she did not regret the step she had taken. Entertaining
neither a doubt nor a fear, that her own feelings and
purposes or those of her lover would ever be estranged or shaken,
she saw no clouds in the future. And the happiness she felt, in
now, for the first time, permitting her gushing affections to flow
unrestrained, and in looking through the brightening vista before
her, was only alloyed by the annoying sense of the wrongs and
insults with which this new and interesting era of her life was
associated. These, for a while, she thought she could never
forget or forgive. But resentment could never long find harbor
in a bosom so beautifully harmonized as that of Lucy Hosmer,
who possessed the enviable faculty of making the good in every
picture so prominent as to overshadow the bad, and even of extracting,
like the bee, some portion of sweet from every bitter

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

flower she found in her path. She soon resolved, therefore, to
cast away anger and endeavor to conquer her uncle by kindness.
And this resolution was strengthened by the unusual cordiality
with which the latter responded to her smiling salutations, when
they met the next morning. But she little knew what was
passing in the breast of him whom she thought thus to move
from his purposes. He, himself, had been the first to perceive
the error he had committed, and his plotting brain was already
at work devising new and more effectual measures to estrange
and separate the lovers; when he somehow became apprised of
the existence of other dangers, which were so much more immediately
threatening to his interests, as to engross his whole
attention, and cause him, for the following week, to be almost
wholly absent from home.

Esquire Stacy, in the meanwhile, not only in fulfillment of
his promise to his deceased friend, but in furtherance of the prospective
rights and happiness of the lovers, in whom, now he
had discovered them to be such, he took a double interest, was
anxiously deliberating with himself respecting the first step to
be taken in their affairs; and it was not till after the lapse of
many days, so critical did he perceive the ground on which he
stood to be for any active movement, that he could come to any
definite conclusion on the subject. Although, however, he made
up his mind first to have an interview with Old Jude, broach
the subject of the proposed union of his niece with young Fisher,
and then proceed as circumstances should dictate; and with
this view, he went out several times intending to accost him,
but each time found, on enquiry, that he was absent from the
village. Wondering what could cause the old man, who was
so generally about home, to be absent so much, just at this time,
and growing a little impatient to put his project into execution,
Stacy continued on the look-out several days longer; when, one
morning he was gratified to see the object of his thoughts making
his appearance in the street. The Squire immediately approached
him, and, when near, began to pause in his walk to intimate
his inclination to hold some conversation. But the other, without
heeding the intimation, brushed by him with a look of peculiar
significance and passed on in silence.

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]