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Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 HIS QTlTAlSrDARY, 
 
 AND HOW IT CAME OUT. 
 
 By ANDREW S HUM AN, 
 
 EDITOR CHICAGO EVENING JOURNAL. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 W. B. KEEN, COOKE cS: CO. 
 
 113 AND 115 State Street. 
 
 1875- 
 
COPYRIGHT. 
 
 W. B. KEEN, COOKE & CO. 
 
 A. D. 1875. 
 
 LOAN STACK 
 GIFT 
 
 THK LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO. 
 
PS BS^I 
 
 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 5^9 
 
 ^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Introductory, 9 
 
 The Beginning of It, 13 
 
 In the Lawyer's Office, 27 
 
 Unexpected Departure, • • 33 
 
 A Client, 41 
 
 A Professional Trip 49 
 
 Moonlight Meditations, 63 
 
 A Woman's Judgment, . . , 67 
 
 An Old Chum's Advice, 85 
 
 A Rival, 91 
 
 Friendship, Love and Jealousy, 99 
 
 In the Country, iii 
 
 Cross-Purposes, 127 
 
 A Friend's Mystery, 137 
 
 An Ordeal, 145 
 
 A Revelation, 153 
 
 In the Great City, . 163 
 
 A Double Wedding, 171 
 
 The Fair Week, 181 
 
 A Death-Bed Request, 189 
 
 The Old Love, 195 
 
 The Conclusion, 209 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 jTLJE was an elderly gentleman, the Judge 
 CjiJ^-y was, with a profusion of gray hair, as soft 
 and smooth as silk, and a face as kindly as that 
 of a young girl. I chanced to meet him in a 
 railway car, we being fellow-travelers, homeward 
 bound, on the long journey from San Francisco, 
 eastward. We occupied adjoining seats, took 
 pleasantly to each other, and whiled away much 
 of the tedium of those five days, coming through 
 the great mountains and the vast plains, in free- 
 and-easy conversation. After almost every topic 
 of current news, politics, literature, science and 
 philosophy had been exhausted, we made drafts 
 upon our funds of anecdote, and finally, as a last 
 
lO Introductory, 
 
 resort, entertained each other with incidents and 
 experiences from our own life-history. 
 
 The Judge was one of the most sociable and 
 entertaining men I had ever met in my life, and 
 never will I forget the deep feeling he exhibited 
 at certain pathetic periods when relating the fol- 
 lowing story, which he appropriately called 
 
 "my great quandary." 
 
THE BEGINNING OF IT. 
 
THE 
 
 LOVES OF A LAWYER. 
 
 CHAPTER 1 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF IT. 
 
 "X'^Tjf^THEN I was a young man — which is 
 ^3^^ many years ago — I was a boarder in a 
 family of three. Those three were a motherly 
 widow, her daughter and a niece, the two 
 latter of whom were but a few years younger 
 than I. They were good folk — cultivated, pleas- 
 ing, companionable. I had but recently gradu- 
 ated from college, and, being homeless, chanced 
 to make my headquarters with the good widow, 
 
14 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 who insisted upon my calling her mother — and 
 certain it is that no mother could be more studi- 
 ous of the comfort, or more interested in the 
 welfare, of a son than she was in my behalf. It 
 was a home, indeed, and she was as motherly as 
 possible, and her two young ladies were as sis- 
 terly as possible. I became very fond of them. 
 They were my companions in the drawing-room 
 in the evening, and I was their inevitable escort 
 to parties, balls, lectures, amusements. They 
 had other associates in the society of the town, 
 and so had I, but somehow a marked preference 
 for each others society in time developed itself, 
 continued to grow, and was mutually confessed. 
 It wasn't love — I think not; at all events we 
 did not act as lovers do, nor did I entertain a 
 lover's emotions, dreams or anticipations. I was 
 just entering actively upon my chosen life-work 
 — a profession to which I devoted all the energy 
 and devotion of my youthful ardor and ambi- 
 tion ; and the thought of love, courtship or mar- 
 riage seldom found lodgment with me. They 
 
The Beginning of It, 15 
 
 called themselves my sisters, as the old lady, 
 (not very old, either,) called herself my mother, 
 and I felt like a brother toward the maidens. 
 And that was the extent of my thoughts and 
 feelings, and I never suspected that theirs par- 
 took of a more tender character. 
 
 The widow's name was Wilkins — Mrs. Jane 
 Wilkins, the relict of Mr. Thomas Wilkins, mer- 
 chant, who had beer, dead ten years when I 
 became a member of her domestic circle. Her 
 daughter's name was Frances — Miss Frances 
 Wilkins, aged twenty-two, of quiet, reserved, and 
 dignified demeanor ;• womanly, majestic, and 
 accomplished in all that renders a young lady 
 attractive to a young man of elevated ideas. 
 The niece's name was Laura — Miss Laura Fer- 
 ris, an orphan, aged twenty, whose parents were 
 suddenly snatched from her, an only child, dur- 
 ing the last visitation of the cholera. Her father 
 had been a man of wealth, and she inherited it. 
 She was unlike her cousin in appearance and 
 disposition, and yet like her in taste and refine- 
 
1 6 The Loves of a Lazvyer, 
 
 ment. Frances was sedate, Laura sprightly; 
 Frances was a brunette, with large dark eyes and 
 a profusion of dark brown hair, and tall and 
 stately as a queen, while Laura had deep blue 
 eyes, auburn curls, and was short and compact 
 of form. Although thus unlike, yet they har- 
 monized as companions, and had they been sis- 
 ters, could not have been more devoted to each 
 other. It was a harmonious family, and I failed 
 to discover that my entrance into it marred its 
 unity or disturbed its equanimity. The only 
 effect seemed to be its enlargement from an 
 accordant trio to a joyous quartette. 
 
 Three years had passed since I had become a 
 member of Mrs. Wilkins' household, when, one 
 evening, while sitting alone with her in the draw- 
 ing-room, she suddenly diverted the conversa- 
 tion from the topic in hand to myself and my 
 future. 
 
 "Samuel, my son," she said, in her usual 
 motherly way, " do you realize the fact that you 
 
The Beginning of It. 17 
 
 are approaching thirty, and will soon be classed 
 among the old bachelors ?" 
 
 "Yes, mother, yes," I replied, " I am aware of 
 that, but who would call me an old bachelor? I 
 am still a mere boy, and am just beginning to 
 get a good start in my profession. Can't think 
 of marrying; not yet, if ever at all." 
 
 "There you w.ll make a great mistake," she 
 said ; " the longer you put it off, the more con- 
 firmed a bachelor you will become. A man like 
 you should marry, by all means." 
 
 *' But who would marry me V I asked. 
 
 " Almost any good girl in the city ; they all 
 know you, and they all like you." 
 
 " I don't know about that, but I do know that 
 I have not given a thought to the subject." 
 
 " It is time you did ; let me tell you that as a 
 friend." And then, hesitating a moment, she 
 resumed, with much seriousness : " Do you 
 know that either of my two girls here, whom you 
 call sisters, would make you a most excellent 
 wife .'^ Have you ever thought of that.?" 
 2 
 
1 8 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 Here was a puzzler, and I instantly divined 
 the good woman's object in opening this conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " I have never thought of either of them in 
 that connection," I repHed; "they are worthy 
 to be the wives of the greatest and best men in 
 the world, but I am only a poor young lawyer, 
 who has a name and a fortune yet to make. I 
 could not ask either of them to sacrifice herself 
 for my sake; it would be presumptuous in me to 
 ask or expect it." 
 
 ' You are all wrong, Samuel, all wrong, I 
 assure you. Oh, I wish you knew as well as I 
 do, how much those girls think of you I But 
 now let me ask you one question ; you may 
 answer it or not, as you choose; all I require is 
 frankness on your part." 
 
 ''Well, certainly." 
 
 *' Which of those girls do you love best.'*" 
 
 "Upon my word, I can't answer you that; I 
 don't know. They are excellent young women, 
 both of them." 
 
The Begimting of It, 19 
 
 "Well, now, Samuel," said she, warming up, 
 "you must have a preference for one or the 
 other; one who sees so much of them and 
 knows them as well as you do, must be able to 
 decide which is the better of the two, and which 
 would make the better wife for you, if you were 
 to choose between them." 
 
 "If marrying is the question, I think if I were 
 to consider that, with a view of arriving at a 
 decision, I would have to conclude to marry 
 them both," I rejoined, laughing. 
 
 " Nonsense!" she exclaimed, and was about to 
 leave the room, when a thought seemed to occur 
 to her suddenly, and approaching my chair, she 
 said, in a half-whisper: "Those two girls love 
 you, Samuel, and let me tell you, in confidence, 
 that they are about to test you. They have made 
 an agreement between them to ascertain, by a 
 process that I am not at liberty to divulge, which 
 of them you love best. My object in telling you 
 the secret is to warn you so that you may be 
 prepared for the ordeal, and so that you may, if 
 
20 Tlie Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 you feel so disposed, analyze your own feelings 
 sufficiently to decide a question which, after this 
 evening's conversation with you, I am convinced* 
 you are not now prepared for.'* 
 
 With that she withdrew. That which she told 
 me made me uneasy, nervous, fearful. Love, 
 with a view of marriage, was to me a new theme 
 of thought ; and yet the good madam's conver- 
 sation and her warning of the young ladies' test- 
 plct convinced me that her motherly interest 
 and their sisterly regard had assumed a more 
 serious sentiment than that of mere friendship, 
 and that I really occupied a very delicate and 
 trying position in this goodly household ; a posi- 
 tion for which I was not prepared ; one which 
 might cause me great embarrassment, and, what 
 was worse, might cause those to whom I was so 
 warmly but disinterestedly attached, disappoint- 
 ment and grief. The thought troubled me, and 
 the fact that the young ladies, on that particular 
 evening, kept their own rooms, not joining me 
 in the drawing-room, as was their usual evening 
 
TJlc Beginning of It, 21 
 
 custom, only contributed to my increasing anx- 
 iety. " Which of them ao I love best?" I asked 
 myself. And the answer came : " They are dear 
 creatures, boih^ and if I really love them, I 
 esteem them both alike." And this was the 
 conclusion of the half-revery, half-argument, 
 which, while sitting there silently and alone, 
 occupied my mind during the remainder of the 
 evening, and I finally retired to lose myself and 
 forget my puzzling problem and its subjects in 
 sleep. 
 
 Next morning Frances ,and Laura, who at 
 breakfast seemed less talkative than usual, sud- 
 denly came upon me in the hall-way, as I was 
 about leaving for my office, the former as sedate 
 as usual, and the latter as sprightly as ever, and 
 desired me to tarry a few moments — they had a 
 favor to ask of me. 
 
 "I'll grant it before you ask it," I promptly 
 replied ; " now, what is it .?" 
 
 Laura was to make the speech, and she did it 
 bravely. "Samuel," she said, "either Frances 
 
22 TJie Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 or I will have to go to grandmother's to stay a 
 few months, to be company for her in her lonely 
 home in the country; it is over an hundred miles 
 away, you know; neither of us wants to go away 
 from home so long, and we have agreed to ask 
 you to decide the question which of us shall go, 
 and to abide by your decision without a mur- 
 mur." 
 
 "Why don't you draw lots? That would be a 
 speedy method, and save me from a disagreeable 
 responsibility, for indeed I cannot decide be- 
 tween you." • 
 
 But they insisted, and declared that I must 
 decide. " If you don't, I will never forgive 
 you," said Laura. '^ If you don't," said Frances, 
 " I will never call you brother again." 
 
 "Well, now, girls," I replied, "I object to 
 either of you going away; I decide that both 
 of you shall stay at home." 
 
 " No, no, that can not be," they declared, in 
 chorus. 
 
 " If you wait for me to decide that either of 
 
TJie Beginning of It, 23 
 
 you shall go, neither of you will go ; that's set- 
 tled," I said, very firmly. 
 
 Seeing that I was in earnest, they dismissed 
 the subject laughingly, but were evidently disap- 
 pointed. They did not suspect that I had been 
 warned of their game. As I was leaving the 
 house, and just before closing the door behind 
 me, I chanced to hear Frances, addressing her 
 mother, exclami : " It was a failure ; he wouldn't 
 ■decide, and we can't induce him to. We must 
 try some other device/' 
 
.r^ ^^^ 
 
 ^^'"^ ^t^^'-^^^^'^^^sf^^.Sii:^ 
 
IN THE LAWYER'S OFFICE. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN THE LAWYER S OFFICE. 
 
 ; AMUEL TRAVERSE, Attorney-at-Law." 
 2^1^ Those were the simple words that marked 
 my office door in Barrister's Row, in the city of 
 Westerly. This was my professional workshop; 
 here I daily busied myself in the books of the 
 great legal philosophers and commentators; 
 here I studied, labored, waited and hoped ; here, 
 day by day, I sat and pondered and dreamed. 
 Occasionally a client chanced to drop in for 
 advice, and once in a great while even a party to 
 a small suit came in to engage my services as 
 counsel. But the first few years passed slowly 
 and heavily, and sometimes I seriously enter- 
 tained a thought of removing from the town and 
 
28 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 seeking a more favorable field in which to prac- 
 tice my profession. Here older lawyers had a 
 monopoly, and I would have to wait on and strug- 
 gle on for years in poverty arid impatience before 
 I could hope to accomplish anything. To an 
 ambitious young man, who was conscious of his 
 ability to cope successfully with other men in the 
 profession, if he could but get a fair start and 
 have a fair chance, this situation was becoming 
 discouraging, especially in view of the fact that 
 three years had now dragged themselves over my 
 head since that sign had been nailed upon my 
 office door, and that as yet but few clients, and 
 those poor, petty ones, and but little business, 
 and that bringing a mere pittance in the way 
 of fee or reward, had come to me. 
 
 "/ fall in love ? / think of marrying? Poor 
 as a beggar, and no prospect ahead ; what could 
 / do with a wife? Absurd!" It was thus I 
 reasoned with myself as I sat in my office, alone, 
 as usual, thinking of that morning's scene with 
 the young ladies at Mrs. Wilkins'. " As well 
 
In the Lazvyer s Office, 29 
 
 think of flying into heaven bodily as to think of 
 marrying, under present circumstances." And I 
 dismissed the subject summarily from my mind, 
 or at least tried to. Not an easy matter. In 
 spite of my efforts to concentrate, my thoughts 
 upon the pages of my law-books; the treatises 
 on Pleadings, Practice, Evidence, and the Com- 
 mon Law, by the great teachers and expounders 
 of the profession ; in spite of my resolute en- 
 deavors to master certain provisions of the Code; 
 in spite of my efforts, with the statute-books 
 open before me, to disentangle a knotty case that 
 a poor tenant who was being oppressed by a 
 merciless landlord intrusted to me on the day 
 before, he agreeing to call this afternoon to learn 
 my advice; in spite of all resolution and circum- 
 stance, those young ladies at Mrs. Wilkins' would 
 intrude themselves upon my thoughts, mingling 
 their bright eyes, sweet faces and musical voices 
 with the profound propositions of the legal com- 
 mentators in the books, and with the intricate 
 verbiage of legislative enactments on " Landlord 
 
30 
 
 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 and Tenant;" and I must confess that had the 
 ingredients of my mentality been carefully ana- 
 lyzed and weighed on that day, the analyzer and 
 weigher would have decided that there were at 
 least three parts of Woman to one part of Law 
 in that uncontrollable confusion of mind and 
 that chaos of irresolution and quandary. 
 
UNEXPECTED DEPARTURE. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 UNEXPECTED DEPARTURE. 
 
 C2^ 
 
 WAS sitting alone in Mrs. Wilkins' drawing- 
 (^ room. It was a quiet, lovely summer even- 
 ing. Presently the madam came in. " Samuel," 
 said she, " Laura has gone to her grandmother's ; 
 left this afternoon. The girls felt very badly 
 when you refused to decide w^hich of them 
 should go, and I was sorry I had warned you of 
 their intended test of your preference. Although 
 it was a device by which they thought to compel 
 you unconsciously to indicate your preference 
 for one or the other of them, yet the fact that 
 they felt it a duty that one or the other of them 
 should go and spend a few months with their 
 grandmother, w^as no ruse. My girls are incapa- 
 pable of deception, my son; that you know." 
 3 
 
34 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 " Well, now, mother, if I had decided which 
 of them should go, what would have been the 
 effect as regards my supposed preference be- 
 tween them — would the one that was to go or ^ 
 the one that was to stay have been considered 
 my favorite?" 
 
 "It is not likely," she replied, "that one 
 would voluntarily separate himself from the one 
 he loves, is it?" 
 
 " Ah, yes, I see. And so Laura has gone ? 
 And without bidding me good-bye?" 
 
 "Both the girls have concluded that you don't 
 love either of them. I think they are mistaken, 
 but that is their inference." 
 
 "They certainly are mistaken," I said, "but, 
 for the life of me, I cannot decide that I love 
 one more than the other. At all events, it 
 wouldn't make -any difference, for, to tell the 
 plain truth, I cannot afford to love anybody very 
 ardently. I 'am too poor to marry; I see too 
 long and desperate a professional struggle before 
 me to allow myself to think of such a thing." 
 
Unexpected Departure, 35 
 
 "Two can fight a battle better than one, my 
 son, especially the battle of life ; be assured 
 of that." 
 
 "Yes, but if both are poor as beggars?" 
 
 " In the case of either Frances or Laura, this 
 would not be so ; neither of them is either poor 
 or in immediate danger of penury. Their 
 fathers made ample provision for them." 
 
 " If I ever marry," I remarked, " it will not be 
 until I shall have the means in my possession to 
 support a wife independently of her own property. 
 What she might have would be hers; I could 
 not be dependent upon her wealth for our joint 
 maintenance." 
 
 "In this you talk like a boy, my son," she 
 said, energetically ; " you may depend upon it 
 that the woman who loves you, and is willing to 
 join life's fortunes and destinies with yours, has 
 nothing that she would not have you share with 
 her ; yes, not only share, but own, control and 
 possess. What belongs to a true woman, who 
 
36 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 marries a true man, is his, with all her heart; 
 don't doubt that." 
 
 And the madam left the room, her daughter 
 Frances entering as she left. ^ 
 
 "Oh, Samuel," said the young lady, taking my 
 hand, " Laura has gone, and I feel so lonesome 
 that I do not know what to do or whither to 
 turn." 
 
 " I suppose, then, I ought to have decreed you 
 into exile the other morning." 
 
 "Would you, then, have so decided had you 
 accepted our proposition .^ Would you have sent 
 me away .f^" 
 
 " I did not say that. No, no ; I was not pre- 
 pared for that ordeal ; but I am sorry Laura has 
 left without saying good-bye to me." 
 
 " You love Laura better than you do me, then, 
 do you.^" 
 
 " No, I do not." 
 
 Frances blushed and looked steadily into my 
 eyes for a moment, and then said, in measured 
 words : 
 
Unexpected Departure, 37 
 
 " Samuel, Laura Ferris is a precious good girl, 
 and you could never find a worthier object of 
 your love than she is." 
 
 " Frances," I said, imitating her sober, meas- 
 ured enunciation, " that is very true, but you, 
 too, are a precious good girl, and no man, be he 
 ever so good, will ever find a worthier object of 
 his love than you." 
 
 " You are bound to turn everything serious 
 into ridicule, Sam," she said, "and I confess I 
 don't know how to take you. You are an 
 enigma." And she left the room, and I was once 
 more alone with my thoughts. 
 
 ** A noble young woman is Frances Wilkins ; 
 and what a queenly wife she would be for a 
 good and true man!" This was the Avhispered 
 thought of my soul when, shortly afterward, I 
 took my hat and left the house for a lonely stroll 
 in the park. " I think much of her, but do I 
 love her, and does she love me ?" I asked myself, 
 as I walked along, moodily. "And yet Laura, 
 
38 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 also, is a very lovely girl, and more vivacious, 
 and apparently has more heart than Frances." •< 
 
 I must confess the truth, that unconsciously I 
 found myself actually debating, in my own 
 thoughts, the comparitive merits of my two sis- 
 terly friends, and the more I debated, the less 
 able I was to form a defini^te opinion as to which 
 of them I loved best, or, rather, which of them, 
 if either, I would choose for a wife. I gradually 
 became involved in an inextricable quandary, 
 which, from that indecisive evening, grew more 
 and more troublesome to me. I felt that I loved 
 them both, but could not decide which of them 
 I loved the most. 
 
A CLIENT. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A CLIENT. 
 
 JHINGS come out very queerly sometimes. 
 One morning, several days after the events 
 recorded in the foregoing chapter an elderly 
 gentleman came into my office. 
 
 " Is Mr. Traverse, the lawyer, in ?" 
 "I am that man," I modestly responded. 
 I was entirely alone, and had just finished 
 writing out my points in the case of the Landlord 
 vs. Tenant, in which I had been retained by the 
 poor fellow who was in the clutches of an uncon- 
 scionable old shark, who was oppressing him 
 beyond reason or justice. Let me say here, 
 before I forget it, that, by my assistance, the 
 poor tenant won his case the next day. 
 
42 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 "You're the man, eh?" said the old gentle- 
 man. "Younger man than I thought to find, •• 
 and yet I am told you will give me honest and 
 safe advice." 
 
 " I never give any but honest professional 
 advice," I replied; "but as to its safety, that, 
 perhaps, is another matter. We have to take 
 the chances on that sometimes." 
 
 "Ah! I see; I see," said he, taking a very 
 sharp look at me from under his old-fashioned 
 spectacles. 
 
 "Well," he continued, presently, "I have an 
 honest case, and all I ask is honest counsel. 
 You are well up in the laws of the state, I sup- 
 pose, and if you are, that's all I ask. The ques- 
 tion is a simple one of equity and justice; a 
 question of trespass. I own a large farm down 
 in Trowbridge township, county of Winston, and 
 my cattle broke through the fence into my 
 neighbor's wheat-field, in the night-time. I am 
 willing to pay him for actual damage done, but 
 he is not satisfied with reason, and demands four 
 
A Client. 43 
 
 times the amount that's just. This is the case. 
 Will you undertake to advise me, and, in the 
 event of a suit at law, will you conduct the case 
 for me in court ? And do you- think you can 
 prevent his recovering from me more than just 
 damages ?" 
 
 " I can promise you, sir, that I will do my very 
 best. Your aggrieved neighbor cannot, by any 
 possibility, recover from you more than just 
 damages, based upon a careful and reasonable 
 estimate of the actual value of the property 
 injured or destroyed." 
 
 " That's how it strikes me," rejoined the old 
 gentleman; "all I want is justice and reason, 
 and you talk just as I think about it. Now, I 
 want you to come to my farm, down in Trow- 
 bridge, and look the ground over, see the cattle, 
 the fence, and the wheat-field, and then look up 
 the law, and advise me, honest and fair, what I 
 ought to do." 
 
 " I will do that, certainly, if you desire it, and 
 yet I am entirely unacquainted with agricultural 
 
44 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 matters, the value of fences or wheat-fields, and 
 could, upon your own information, probably give 
 you just as good advice here as if I should visit 
 and inspect the premises.'* 
 
 But, as many a lawyer will attest, there is no 
 use trying to convince a man of hard-headed 
 "justice," such as my present visitor was, that 
 anything could be done, even in a law-suit, with- 
 out first examining the geography, the topog- 
 raphy, and the tangible and visible details of 
 the premises of the whole matter and circum- 
 stances; and so, agreeably to his request, I con- 
 sented that on a certain day I would visit his 
 farm, over an hundred miles distant, and scruti- 
 nize the physical situation of the origin of the 
 neighborly controversy. 
 
 Now, this may seem like i\.vvjrr,ing out of the 
 wa\- when one is telling a love story. A case 
 of trcspa-^. involving; principles of law and 
 equity, would seem to be quite a different matter 
 from that involved in the question that the 
 
A Client, 
 
 45 
 
 motherly Mrs. Wilkins and her two dear girls 
 wished me to decide. But wait and see. As I 
 said, things come about very queerly sometimes. 
 
A PROFESSIONAL TRIP. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A PROFESSIONAL TRIP. 
 
 tT was a bright summer day when I took the 
 train and ran down to the township of 
 Trowbridge, county of Winston. At the station- 
 house I was met by the old farmer, (whose 
 name, I must not forget to tell you, was Jones,) 
 and I found that all his neighbors and the folks 
 round about called him *' Deacon," and that he 
 was a great man in his district. Deacon Jones 
 drove me, in a double carriage, straight to his 
 house, a mile distant, and, in a very business- 
 like way, at once proceeded to the veritable 
 fence through which his cattle had broken into 
 that veritable wheat-field, for the injury to the 
 growing grain in which his aggrieved neighbor 
 4 
 
50 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 demanded unreasonable damages. It is not 
 necessary to our purpose to go into details as to 
 our examination of the premises, our estimates 
 of the actual injury done, or the probable mar- 
 ket value of the wheat destroyed. It was very 
 apparent to me that Deacon Jones was a fair, 
 reasonable man, who honestly desired to settle 
 the controversy with his neighbor upon a just 
 and honorable basis. 
 
 "Should Mr. Bingle," (that was the name of 
 the Deacon's aggrieved neighbor,) " should Mr. 
 Bingle attempt, by suit at law, to recover more 
 than the sum of damages you have offered him," 
 I said, ** I will guaranty his failure of success. 
 No jury of farmers would award him as much as 
 you offer him ; of that I am satisfied/' 
 
 "That's just what I told him yesterday," 
 remarked the Deacon, " and yet he threatens to 
 sue." 
 
 And the old gentleman, who informed me that 
 never in all his long life had he been a party to a 
 lawsuit, and never wished to be, sighed deeply,. 
 
A Professional Trip, 51 
 
 looked sad, and invited me to his house. On 
 our way thither he took occasion to tell me how- 
 much this little neighborly quarrel had troubled 
 him, and how he wished Mr. Bingle could be 
 persuaded to see that " right is right, and justice 
 is justice," and settle the matter on "the 
 square," without any further difficulty. I pro- 
 posed that he send for Mr. Bingle, and we would 
 talk it over quietly with him, then and there. 
 
 "No," he replied, "Bingle is a singular sort 
 of a fellow, and wouldn't come over if I should 
 send for him. The only way is for us to go over 
 to his house and 'beard the lion in his den ^' " 
 
 "Well, let us do that, then," I proposed, and 
 it was so agreed ; and in the latter part of the 
 day the Deacon and I walked across the fields 
 of the adjoining farms to Mr. Bingle's. 
 
 Mr. Bingle, sure enough, was a singular sort 
 of man; crabbed, unsociable, repellent. He 
 did not propose to compromise ; didn't believe 
 in compromises, any way — and I was a little 
 amused in hearing him repeat, almost word for 
 
52 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 word, the sentiment of my client, that " right is 
 right, and justice is justice." 
 
 And here is a question that, in personal con- 
 troversies, is often very difficult to answer: 
 What is right — what is justice? I left the two 
 disputants to discuss the question in their neigh- 
 borly, but ill-natured way, and sat quietly in a 
 corner of the big room. 
 
 "Heaven help us," I said to myself, as I sat 
 alone, " what /V right and just.^ Here are two 
 men of more than ordinary sense trying to 
 persuade each other — one that he has been 
 damaged overmuch, the other that his neighbor's 
 claim is unreasonable — and I the arbitrator. 
 Heaven help me and justice, for I see that I 
 have now been placed in the breach to decide 
 between these two quarreling neighbors." And 
 I tried to comprehend the entire situation, and 
 endeavored, after having heard both sides, to con- 
 clude in my own mind how to advise my client, 
 the good Deacon, honestly, as to what was best, 
 safest and right. For an hour I ke[)t my silent 
 
A Professional Trip, 53 
 
 corner, and finally reached a conclusion, based 
 not only upon reason, but upon law. I knew, 
 because I saw and understood, that Deacon 
 Jones was not only disposed to do right and to 
 satisfy his unreasonable neighbor, but that he 
 would even, if need be, go far beyond reason 
 and justice in order to prevent a public suit at 
 law. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Bingle," I said, coming back from 
 my silent corner, after having heard the state- 
 ments and asseverations of both sides of the 
 case, and the argumentations of each to per- 
 suade the other that he was right and the other 
 wrong, *' Mr. Bingle, while I have been regularly 
 employed by Mr. Jones to represent his interest 
 in this controversy, yet I candidly assure you 
 that, after talking very freely with him before, 
 and listening to your discussion now, I am sure — 
 quite and entirely positive — that he wishes to do 
 right. And what more can you or he, or any- 
 body, desire in such a case } Mr. Jones tells me 
 that he is heartily sorry that his cattle broke 
 
54 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 over his fence, entering and destroying your 
 wheat-field. I believe his expression of regret 
 is sincere. And after doing his very best to 
 compute the actual damage done, he proposes 
 to settle with you honorably. His basis of set- 
 tlement, I think, is that of a just man; no court 
 in the world would award to you honester or 
 juster terms than he proposes. Think of his 
 proposition seriously, and accept it. It would 
 be honest — it would be neighborly — it would be 
 the right thing to do as between man and man." 
 Thus relieving myself — and I spoke very frank- 
 ly and earnestly — I " fell back in good order," as 
 the soldiers used to say in the war, and left the 
 two quarreling farmers to reach a conclusion. 
 They talked the matter over again; they argued 
 and re-argued, agreed and disagreed, but failed 
 to come to an understanding. Finally, from my 
 corner, to which I had again retreated, and 
 where I was trying to read a newspaper, I heard 
 this remark, delivered very emphatically by Mr. 
 Bingle: "Deacon, my niece. Loll, (you know 
 
A Professional Trip. 55 
 
 her,) is a mighty smart young woman — I'll 
 agree to leave the whole matter to her, and 
 what she says I'll agree to, and she knows noth- 
 ing at all about it now, I warrant you." 
 
 "' Loll ! Loll ! ! What does she know about 
 matters of this kind?" I heard the Deacon ask, 
 and then advanced to the scene of the dual 
 strife and -suggested to my client thus : " Mr. 
 Jones, the intuitions of woman are always on 
 the side of justice and right — accept his propo- 
 sition." 
 
 " I'll do it," instantly exclaimed Deacon Jones ; 
 *' I'll do it, and yet I don't know how capable 
 she is of deciding anything. I want peace and 
 good neighborhood, and will do almost anything 
 to settle this trouble to mutual satisfaction." 
 
 Mr. Bingle at once went out of the room, say- 
 ing, "I'll bring Loll; she's quick to see a thing; 
 her decision will be right, and right is all I 
 want." 
 
 It was a spectacle worth the seeing — it was 
 indeed — to see those two old farmers endeavor- 
 
56 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 ing to settle their petty differences in their 
 peculiar way; and, for a lawyer, accustomed to 
 the ways and means of legal controversy, it was 
 not only amusing, but afforded an opportunity 
 for a profitable lesson. It was — so I then 
 thought — an excellent exhibition of human nature 
 in its unsophisticated state. Both gentlemen 
 were intelligent, as the world goes, and their 
 opinions would, no doubt, have been accepted 
 as equal to law by their rustic friends and 
 neighbors, for many miles around, on ordinary 
 matters of question ; but this was not an ordi- 
 nary matter — it was extraordmary — and so they 
 kept it from their neighbors and friends, and 
 none knew of their controversy but their two 
 immediate families and myself; and I must 
 acknowledge that, youthful barrister and inex- 
 perienced in family or neighborhood squabbles 
 as I then was, I would have given almost any- 
 thing in the world that was at my command, if 
 I could have taken myself entirely out of the 
 quarrel. But it was too late. Deacon Jones 
 
A Professional Trip, 57 
 
 had deliberately drawn me into it as his advisor 
 and counsel, and, as a young lawyer, with 
 nothing behind him but great hopes, and '^rith 
 great ambition before him, I was professionally 
 bound, as the saying is in the -American idiom, 
 to "see the thing through," and to bring my 
 client out of the difficulty with honor and legal 
 justice. 
 
 I sat for five minutes in the solemn and silent 
 presence of the grave old Deacon, when Mr. 
 Bingle re-entered the drawing-room with his 
 niece Loll, when I again retreated to my corner 
 in the back part of the great room. 
 
 "Loll?" I instinctively exclaimed to myself — 
 "Loll? Why, it's Laura Ferris -^^ it's the niece 
 of Mrs. Wilkins — it's one of my dear sisters at 
 my home in Westerly!" 
 
 "My niece, Loll," said Mr. Bingle to Deacon 
 Jones. " This, Loll, is the gentleman whose 
 farm is next adjoining ours, with whom we have 
 a dispute about damages." 
 
 "Mr. Jones," said Loll, "I have often seen 
 
58 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 and heard of you, and I know your daughter, 
 Mary, very well ; we are excellent friends, and 
 my uncle and you must have no unpleasant 
 disagreements between you. Uncle tells me that 
 you two have a trouble, and he wants me to 
 decide between you. It's very funny to me ; the 
 very idea. I promise you that when I shall give 
 my decision, I will decide in your favor, Mr. 
 Jones, on Mary's account, and I know that will 
 be the end of it, for you think very much of 
 your Mary, and uncle, here, thinks very much 
 of me, and we two families cannot afford to be 
 put out with each other ; it would be dreadful, 
 it would indeed." 
 
 "But," said *Deacon Jones, " there is a ques- 
 tion of right and justice involved in the matter, 
 and it must be decided righteously, so that both 
 shall be satisfied." 
 
 "That is just what I told Loll," said Mr. 
 Bingle, "when I requested her to come in, hear 
 the matter, and decide between us. Loll is a 
 
A Professional Trip, 59 
 
 bright, good, honest girl, and her judgment, 
 whatever it be, will be right, I know." 
 
 Just then, seeing a favorable opportunity, I 
 advanced toward them from out of my corner, 
 and remarked : ''Mr. Jones, it is 'all right — trust 
 to Loll's judgment — I'll be security for her any 
 day." 
 
 " Why, Sam ! — Sam Traverse ! dear brother 
 Sam! How came you here.'^" exclaimed Laura 
 Ferris — for it was indeed the sprightly -Laura, 
 with her auburn curls and blue eyes — -who, to 
 my sadness, had left our home at Westerly only 
 a week or two ago, without even bidding me 
 good-bye, to spend some weeks with her grand- 
 mother, here, at her uncle's. The grandmother, 
 — Mrs. Summerfield— was the mother of Mr. 
 Bingle's wife, now dead. 
 
 Do you see, now, reader, how things happen 
 queerly sometimes.? I do not know why it 
 happened thus. But other queer incidents are 
 still to be told. 
 
MOONLIGHT MEDITATIONS. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MOONLIGHT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 fLT was a delightful moonlight evening in the 
 :, country. In the country ! There is to my 
 mind something so captivating, so very charming 
 about the country, in contradistinction from the 
 town or city — something so much like the differ- 
 ence between Paradise and Pandemonium — that 
 I wonder — or, at least, I did wonder at this 
 time — how people could live anywhere but in 
 the country, especially in the summer time, and 
 while the moon is shining in the quiet evenings. 
 I spent that evening in a moonlight walk with 
 Laura along the shaded highway. I will never 
 forget the pleasures of that hour as long as I 
 live. Laura was the very paragon of loveliness; 
 
64 TJl: Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 amiable, affectionate, confiding. How could any 
 man, born of woman, and sent forth into the ^ 
 world with the blessings of a revered woman 
 upon his head, take a walk, spend an evening, 
 and interchange thought and sentiment with 
 such as she without loving her? Men are 
 human, the greatest and the least of them, and 
 so are women. Bring them together alone — 
 especially on a moonlight evening in the country 
 — and their humanity is irresistible. On that 
 evening Laura and I parted at the door of her 
 uncle Bingle's mansion as lovingly as the most 
 devoted of human creatures. I knew she loved 
 me, because she declared it in enthusiastic 
 words, and I felt that I loved her. Heaven help 
 us at such a time, for we, poor weaklings, cannot 
 help ourselves. I told Laura that she was the 
 idol of my soul. And it was so. At least I 
 thought so then. 
 
A WOMAN'S lUDGMENT. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A woman's judgment. 
 
 tWAS an invited guest the next day at the 
 mansion of Mr. Bingle. 
 "Well, Loll," said Mr. Bingle, "have you 
 decided in your mind the matter between the 
 Deacon and I ? It is time — what's your jiidg- 
 ment } Is he or I right } Come, let me know, 
 for I have agreed to take you and * Lawyer Sam,' 
 as you call him, over there to-night to spend the 
 evening and come to a final settlement, one way 
 or 'tother." 
 
 "Uncle," she replied, "I honestly confess to 
 you that since Sam has arrived here, I have not 
 been able to think a serious thought. I know 
 him so well that, without thinking anything at 
 
68 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 all about it, I know that whatever he advises is 
 right. Do as he says — that's my decision." 
 
 ^'But, Loll," the brusque old gentleman re- 
 torted, "this Lawyer Sam is here as the adviser 
 of Deacon Jones, and is in his interest. That 
 won't do. The Deacon is unreasonable, and 
 Sam supports him, and all I want is right and 
 justice. Now, Loll, you know all about it — we 
 have told you — and I look to you to decide 
 wisely and justly, from your own knowledge of 
 the matter." 
 
 ** Uncle," she said, " if you knew Sam as well 
 as I do, you would tell him to settle the matter 
 as he thinks best, and there let it rest. He will 
 do justly — I know he will. I would trust to his 
 judgment rather than my own, and so may you. 
 And this, dear uncle, is my decision — that what- 
 ever Sam Traverse shall declare right and just, 
 is so, and must be so — he is an honest man if 
 ever there has been one in the world." 
 
 The old gentleman turned away frowningly. 
 He did not like this unexpected climax, and 
 
A Woman s Judgment, 69 
 
 evidently felt that the close friendship between 
 his niece and Deacon Jones' lawyer was a con- 
 spiracy on the part of the Deacon. And Laura, 
 with the quick, instinctive perception of a woman, 
 at once discovered this suspicion in his mind, 
 and, leaving me abruptly alone, she followed him 
 into his room. Presently returning, she said: 
 *' That matter is settled, at all events ; my uncle 
 must not think me a party against him — and 
 now, when we go over to Deacon Jones' this 
 evening, you must let me announce the verdict 
 in this affair, which they have left to me, for 
 neither my uncle nor the Deacon must think 
 that you have influenced me. You have said 
 nothing to me about it, but I understand it all. 
 Leave it to me, and I will see that justice is 
 done." 
 
 I, knowing her innate honesty and shrewdness,, 
 acquiesced without a dissenting word. 
 
 In the evening uncle Bingle, Laura and I 
 walked leisurely across the fields to the mansion 
 of Deacon Jones. It was a charming evening, 
 
70 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 and even the crabbed uncle, walking at the side 
 of his sprightly niece, became somewhat senti- 
 mental, and in a sad, half-youthful sort of mood, 
 referred to the delightful walks and heavenly 
 communions that he and that " precious wife *' 
 of his, who had "gone to heaven," used to have 
 on just such evenings and nights as this. And I 
 looked in the old gentleman's face as we strolled 
 along, and saw something glistening on his cheek 
 that looked very like a tear, and I took him by 
 the arm and said, softly, " God help us all, Mr. 
 Bingle : we all are weak and helpless creatures ; 
 uncertainty, death, and heart-troubles are the 
 destiny of every one of us. I honor the tear 
 that a sacred memory calls up ; it tells of a good 
 heart. God bless you, Mr. Bingle!" 
 
 The old gentleman drew his handkerchief 
 across his face, and, after walking silently for a 
 few minutes, exclaimed : 
 
 "Why, why, Loll! Loll! does this lawyer Sam 
 love you, and do you love him 1 Now come, tell 
 me." His voice was husky and trembeld like 
 
A Woman s Judgment, yi 
 
 that of a weeping woman. His eyes were full 
 of tears, and, stopping, he looked into Laura's 
 face and then into mine, with a peculiar eager- 
 ness. 
 
 " We love each other, uncle," Laura said, " as 
 brother and sister — that is all — that is all.'* 
 
 "Lawyer Sam," he said, resuming our walk, 
 " is that all ? Tell me truly, for I see you are a 
 good fellow, and Loll, here, is a good girl— a 
 very, very good girl. Her mother, who was my 
 wife's sister, was just like her." 
 
 " She has told you all there is between us," I 
 replied. 
 
 He kissed his niece, and then pressed my 
 hand. Crabbed old fellow as he was, we had 
 found the human part of him. But he thought 
 Laura and I were more and nearer to each other 
 than we really were. I do not know what 
 Laura thought, but I remember very well what I 
 thought. 
 
 Presently we reached Deacon Jones' gate, and 
 found that grave-faced gentleman awaiting us. 
 
72 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 He received us cordially, and after seating us in 
 his parlor, called in his wife and daughter and 
 introduced us to them. Mrs. Jones was a moth- 
 erly-appearing dame, more youthful in looks 
 than in years, with a few straggling gray hairs in 
 a profusion of dark curls which graced both 
 sides of a sunny face. Her daughter, Mary — 
 sweet old name ! — was a charming young lady 
 of about twenty — a perfect beauty — with a face 
 all sunshine and intelligence; manners as pol- 
 ished and language as refined as those of the 
 most cultivated of the city belles ; her dark hair 
 tastefully arranged over a broad brow that was 
 as white as marble, and large dark-brown eyes 
 beaming dreamily from a well-rounded physiog- 
 nomy. 
 
 I confess to a peculiar admiration for beauti- 
 ful women — an admiration that amounts almost 
 to an infatuation — an admiration that always has 
 been with me a pleasurable enthusiasm, if not a 
 positive weakness. And it is not a confession 
 to be ashamed of. Is there anything in ani- 
 
A Wojnans Judgment, 73 
 
 mated nature that is more beautiful than a 
 really beautiful woman — a woman well-formed 
 physically, with an angelic face, a good heart 
 and mind, and a pure soul — a woman combining 
 facial charms with refined sensibilities, modesty, 
 neatness, gentleness? I don't mean your gaudy 
 creations of art and affectation — not those whose 
 beauty consists only of their apparel and the 
 tricks and appliances of fashion. The beauty 
 of these is not the beauty of women, but the 
 ingenuity of art — it is all on the surface, and 
 generally all is emptiness within. Neither do I 
 mean those whose faces are fair, whose hair is 
 profuse and well ordered, whose eyes are bright, 
 or whose manners are winning; these are essen- 
 tial elements, perhaps, but something more is 
 needed to complete my ideal of a beautiful 
 woman — such as culture, good sense, and moral 
 loveliness. A really beautiful woman must be a 
 good woman, a pure, chaste, modest woman, as 
 w^ell as handsome physically — she must be truly 
 womanly and truly lovely. And when I meet 
 
74 ^/^^ Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 such an one, I do not try to resist her charms — 
 I cannot — they are irresistible — and I yield 
 myself her captive at once and unconditionally. 
 Beautiful women, such as I mean, were Laura, 
 Frances and my newly-discovered divinity, Mary 
 Jones. 
 
 *'Well, neighbor Jones," slowly and solemnly 
 opened Mr. Bingle, after a few minutes of pre- 
 liminary conversation around the little circle, 
 " we have come over to settle our little dispute, 
 as appointed, and as ' business before pleasure ' 
 is a good rule, I propose that we come to that at 
 once, and end all further misunderstanding." 
 
 *' The sooner the better, as far as I am con- 
 cerned, Mr. Bingle," said Deacon Jones, rising 
 nervously from his chair ; " is your niece ready 
 to make the decision .? We have left it all to 
 her, I believe." 
 
 "Yes," said Laura, "my verdict is prepared, 
 and it is this : That you two good old neighbors 
 shall make up and be friends. You, Mr. Jones, 
 shall pay my uncle nothing at all, and you, my 
 
A Woman s Judgment, 75 
 
 dear uncle, shall say to Mr. Jones something like 
 this : * My good Deacon, your cattle broke into 
 my wheat-field and damaged my grain — it was 
 very annoying, and I became much incensed ; 
 but you were not to blame for it. Some time 
 my cattle may break into one of your fields in 
 the same way. These things do happen some- 
 times, especially between farmers who are neigh- 
 bors. So, if at any time my cattle should annoy 
 or do damage to you, I would expect that you 
 would be as considerate toward me as I am now 
 towarcj you. As neighbors, let us be friends, 
 and treat each other as Christian neighbors and 
 friends should.' " 
 
 Laura spoke these words as deliberately as a 
 preacher would his sermon, and with all the 
 quiet gesture, emphasis and grace that an actress 
 would deliver a studied speech on the stage. 
 Then bowing to her uncle and Deacon Jones, 
 she concluded : " This is my verdict : it may not 
 be business-like, as you would say, but I feel and 
 know it is neighbor-like and Christian-like." 
 
"j^ The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 I could not help it, but when she concluded I 
 instinctively clapped my hands applaudingly 
 and exclaimed : *' Bravo, Laura ! bravo!" And 
 Miss Mary Jones, her eyes brimfuU of smiles, 
 joined me, clapping her hands also, and ex- 
 claimed, "I.aura, you 'would make a first-rate 
 Judge!" And then Deacon Jones spoke up: 
 " I am afraid this verdict is a little one-sided, 
 my good lady — so much so, indeed, that I hardly 
 know what to make of it, or how to take it. 
 Mr. Bingle, I suspect you have caused your niece 
 to play a little joke here at my expense, or, 
 rather, at your expense. How is it ?" 
 
 All eyes were now turned toward Mr. Bingle. 
 I could see the same peculiarly sad expression 
 on his face that I noted when, speaking of his 
 dead wife while we were walking through the 
 fields that evening, his eyes filled with tears and 
 his voice trembled like a woman's. He sat 
 silent and unmoved for a moment — first looked 
 intently at Laura, then at me, then at the 
 Deacon. " It is no joke of mine," he remarked, 
 
A Woman s Judgment, yj 
 
 slowly and nervously, at last : " I knew not what 
 her decision would be until she declared it. 
 But it is all right — the dear girl is right — so like 
 her aunt, my sainted wife- — so like her — so like 
 the spirit of a true Christian. I thank you, 
 Laura, and, Mr. Jones, I beg your forgiveness for 
 not having until this moment seen my duty as a 
 neighbor more clearly. Loll is right ; it is just 
 as her aunt would have advised if she were 
 living. It is all right." 
 
 And the old gentleman, wiping a tear from his 
 cheek, arose, grasped his neighbor by the hand, 
 and they were friends again, and better friends 
 than they had ever been before, and truer and 
 better neighbors from that time forward. 
 
 "I sent for you, Mr. Traverse, to come and 
 help me settle this quarrel, as a lawyer," re- 
 marked Deacon Jones, taking my hand, " and 
 now tell me, did Laura act under your advice, or 
 was this her own device.?" 
 
 "I assure you, and also Mr. Bingle," I replied, 
 "that Laura and I have not exchanged a single 
 
78 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 word in reference to the dispute. She neither 
 asked me anything concerning it, nor did I pre- 
 sume to mention it to her, or to make even a 
 suggestion. I approve the judgment entirely, 
 but most emphatically deny having influenced 
 the mind of the judge." 
 
 "A remarkable young woman!" said Deacon 
 Jones. 
 
 " Indeed she is a remarkable young woman," 
 joined Mr. Bingle — "so like her aunt who is 
 dead — so very, very like." 
 
 " Now let us dismiss this whole matter from 
 our conversation and minds," said Laura; ** it is 
 settled; all are satisfied, and I am the most 
 gratified of all concerned, for I know I have 
 decided justly, and am rejoiced to see that you 
 all think so. Here, Mr. Traverse, I want you to 
 know my friend Mary well — for she and I are 
 good friends, and have been ever since we were 
 little children." 
 
 And we three young folks of the party retired 
 into an adjoining room, leaving the Deacon and 
 ♦ 
 
A Woman s Judgment, 79 
 
 his wife and Mr. Bingle to themselves in the 
 parlor, as sociable and happy as old neighbors 
 should be, and the happier for the removal of 
 the subject of the late dispute. 
 
 It was a very pleasant evening. I enjoyed the 
 society of Mary Jones and Laura greatly ; we 
 had a lively conversation at first, then social 
 games, and then a frolic by moonlight on the 
 lawn and in the garden. I must candidly ac- 
 knowledge that there was something about Mary 
 Jones that irresistibly captivated me. Laura 
 was sprightly, pretty and loving, but Mary was 
 all these and something more — and that some- 
 thing — call it intellectuality, call it culture, or 
 call it magnetism — drew me to her as I thought 
 I had never been drawn to a woman before. 
 And, somehow, before the evening was over, I 
 felt that I loved Mary Jones, and I saw and felt 
 that the sentiment found a response in her own 
 soul. Laura Ferris did not know it — dear 
 creature — nobody else under the sky knew it or 
 suspected it ; but it was so, and when taking my 
 
8o The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 departure that night from the house of my 
 client, Deacon Jones — for Laura and her uncle 
 insisted that I must be their guest for another 
 day — there was a mutual pressure of hands 
 when Mary and I said good night, and a very 
 cordial expression of a hope that we would soon 
 meet again. 
 
 "It is all right," said Mr. Bingle, as we were 
 returning across the fields, " it is all right, Loll, 
 and I am glad you decided just as you did. I 
 am a better man for it, and the Deacon and I 
 will be better friends and neighbors for it. It is 
 all right — so like your aunt, my dear dead wife — 
 so like her — so very like her. Lawyer Sam," 
 that is what he persisted in calling me, "you 
 will never find a better girl than Loll. She tells 
 me that you and she are as brother and sister. 
 That cannot be so long, and I half suspect it is 
 more than that now. Come, now, tell me, isn't 
 there something more serious between you V 
 
 " We have boarded together so long with her 
 aunt in town," I replied, " that we have indeed 
 
A Woman s Judgment. 8i 
 
 become like brother and sister. I did not dream 
 of meeting her out here when I came to Trow- 
 bridge, at Deacon Jones' request, yet meeting 
 her has made my visit exceedingly pleasant. 
 We are very good friends, Mr. Bingle — Laura 
 and I — but nothing more, I think— eh, Laura.'*" 
 
 *' That is all, uncle — only good friends, like 
 brother and sister — but " — 
 
 **But.^" repeated Mr. Bingle, ''but what.?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing, uncle — nothing; I did not know 
 what I was going to say," And I could see, by 
 the soft light of the moon, that a blush suffused 
 those fresh round cheeks — and I was troubled 
 again, for I knew what she was thinking about — 
 I recollected what she and I had talked about 
 so affectionately during our romantic moonlight 
 walk on the previous evening. It was love. 
 
 Again I was confronted by the question, 
 Which do I love best } This time it was not 
 Laura Ferris or Frances AVilkins — it was Mary 
 Jones or Laura Ferris. Laura was beautiful, 
 affectionate, good, sensible — and I was sure I 
 6 
 
82 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 did love her last evening; but why did she give 
 Mary Jones and me an opportunity to know 
 each other so well this evening ? I was begin- 
 ning to distrust myself. Was I fickle and heart- 
 less ? Was I the ready victim of every pretty 
 face and loving smile ? Did I really know what 
 love was ? Was I a simpleton and a fool in 
 these matters ? I could not answer these ques- 
 tions, and they continued to keep me awake that 
 night until toward the morning, when I fell 
 asleep and dreamed a beautiful dream — not 
 about Laura Ferris; not about Mary Jones; but 
 about Mrs. Wilkins and her majestic, dark-eyed 
 daughter, Frances. 
 
 The next day, reluctantly bidding Laura and 
 her uncle good-bye, I returned to Westerly and 
 my office — to Mrs. Wilkins and Frances. 
 
AN OLD CHUM'S ADVICE. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AN OLD chum's ADVICE. 
 
 . NE of the first persons to enter my office, 
 1^^ after my return from Trowbridge, was my 
 old college chum and intimate friend, Joe Start- 
 ling. Joe was a young man — about my own 
 age, a noble fellow, and unmarried. He was 
 now a merchant, doing business in Westerly. 
 
 " Joe," said I, after commonplace conversa- 
 tion, "why don't you marry.? " 
 
 " Queer question for you to ask me," he replied, 
 " Sam, why don't you marry ? " 
 
 "Can't afford it, but you can — that's the dif- 
 ference." 
 
 " I might afford it," he said, "but I have yet to 
 find the woman. But, Sam, why did you ask me 
 this question ? " 
 
86 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 " For the purpose of asking you another. If 
 there were two or three ladies, all young, beauti- 
 ful and lovely, from whom you could choose a wife 
 — you esteeming them equally, and knowing that 
 they either do or could love you — how would 
 you decide, if you felt it a duty to decide 
 between them ? " 
 
 " Were I placed in that situation, I would 
 decide very quickly. I would choose the best 
 and prettiest of them, everything else being 
 equal — that is, if I loved her and was sure she 
 loved me." 
 
 " But supposing they were equally good and 
 equally pretty, and that you esteemed them 
 equally, and were aware that each of them loved 
 you, or would if you desired it." 
 
 "That," replied Joe, smiling, ^'is not a possi- 
 ble combination of conditions." 
 
 And then I unbosomed myself to Joe, whom 
 1 had always found a safe depository of my 
 secrets, and a good adviser withal. I told him 
 
An Old Chums Advice, ^*j 
 
 all about Frances Wilkins and Laura Ferris and 
 my new-found friend Mary Jones. 
 
 ** I know all three of them/' said Joe, when I 
 had told him all, " and most excellent girls they 
 are — none better, none prettier, none lovelier ; 
 but were I in your place, Sam, I would take 
 Laura Ferris. That speech of hers, when decid- 
 ing the question between the two farmers, if she 
 acquitted herself as you have just stated, shoves 
 that she would make an excellent wife for an 
 honest lawyer — she would be a helpmeet — and 
 she is a very pretty, sweet girl." 
 
 Somehow I felt that Joe spoke wisely, and yet, 
 after he had gone, I gradually fell into as grave 
 a quandary as ever. I thought of the fine form 
 and winning face I saw and admired at Deacon 
 Jones' — of those smiling eyes that spak^e back 
 to mine and seemed to fascinate my very soul. 
 And then I thought of the majestic and womanly 
 Frances, whom I had known so long and so well, 
 and whose qualities of mind and temper I could 
 
88 
 
 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 not but acknowledge and admire. The more I ^ 
 thought of the three divinities, the more I was 
 puzzled to decide which I should set up as my 
 particular idol. 
 
A RIVAL. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A RIVAL. 
 
 JLN the evening, on entering Mrs. Wilkins' 
 :, drawing room, I met there a stranger — a 
 tall, black-haired, black-bearded, fine appearing 
 man — somewhat older than I, apparently — and 
 whom Mrs. Wilkins introduced to me as Mr. 
 Gentry, a friend, who had come from an Eastern 
 city to spend a day or two with them. He and 
 I soon became sociable. I liked him. He was 
 a man of intelligence, affable and gentlemanly. 
 We talked about everything — the topics of cur- 
 rent news -^ the weather, literature — the latest 
 developments in science — business — and got 
 along together very finely, agreeing in sentiment, 
 generally, and differing only in the details of the 
 
92 The TJives of a Lawyer. 
 
 topics of ou[4v'fcmyf'i'^ation and discussion. In- 
 deed I fouhd ht|3ft?a very pleasant gentleman, 
 and he politely' il^formed me that, having some 
 time ago gone out of trade, he was now a cap- 
 italist' — a loaner of money, his income being a 
 handsome per cent, on a very snug amount. 
 ^ I liked Mr. Gentry very well, and was getting 
 to like him better every moment, when our con- 
 versation was interrupted by the entrance of 
 Frances. 
 
 "I'm glad to see such good friends of mine 
 taking to each other so readily," she said. *' And 
 now, without wishing to be rude, please tell me 
 what you are talking about so earnestly." 
 
 " Everything — nothing — anything," replied 
 Mr. Gentry, rising and taking h^r hand; "but 
 now what would you talk about } " 
 
 "Everything — nothing — anything," she re- 
 torted, laughing; "but Mr. Traverse should tell 
 us where he has been these few days past, what 
 he has seen, and all about it." 
 
 " It would be too long a story," I said ; " noth- 
 
^^t 
 
 A Rivals , 93 
 
 ing remarkable — a professions 1 mission, but one 
 of its most remarkable incidents was the meeting 
 of Laura at her uncle's." 
 
 Instantly, after saying this, I discovered that 
 her face flushed, and immediately I could see a 
 change in her entire manner toward me. Instead 
 of seeking my side, as had been her wont, she 
 moved away from me, and I could see a troubled 
 expression in her eye. It did not take long for 
 me to discover what the matter was. The jeal- 
 ous young woman actually got the notion into her 
 head that I had gone off to visit her cousin 
 Laura, and that this was the occasion of my 
 absence from town. Aware, as I soon became, 
 that this gentleman, Mr. Gentry, had come as an 
 admirer of Frances — a wooer — I readily per- 
 ceived that I was the third person who could 
 very conveniently be spared from the company, 
 in order to complete the pleasure of the other 
 two. At the earliest opportunity I excused my- 
 self, and left the room. 
 
 The rest of that evening I occupied in arguing 
 
94 TJie Loves of a Laivyer. 
 
 two questions, the first of which was whether, 
 under the circumstances, it was my • duty to 
 explain to Frances Wilkins my visit to the town 
 of Trowbridge, and my accidental and unex- 
 pected meeting there with her cousin Laura ; the 
 other was, whether this apparently clever gentle- 
 man, Mr. Gentry, would not, in any event, prove 
 a successful rival for the hand of Frances, even 
 if I should wish to aspire to it. I went to bed 
 that night, feeling wretched — and falling asleep 
 after an hour or two of vexatious thought, I 
 dreamed — I always have been a great dreamer 
 — that Frances Wilkins had grown cold toward 
 me — no longer called me "brother Sam " — and 
 was promenading affectionately with that hand- 
 some, black-bearded Mr. Gentry, right in front 
 of my own office, apparently with the express 
 object of exciting my ire and jealousy. And 
 then, in my dream, I forgot this trouble by 
 meeting Laura, and walking with her across the 
 green fields and in the shade of the silent groves 
 of the Trowbridge farm, by the romantic moon- 
 
A Rival. 95 
 
 light — lovingly pledging her my whole heart, 
 and she reciprocating my every word of love and 
 promise. And then, somehow, the dream closed 
 amid the flower-beds and shrubbery of Deacon 
 Jones' dooryard, with Mary Jones gently and 
 sweetly beckoning me to her side, her eyes shin- 
 ing like big diamonds, and her cheeks as rosy 
 and velvety as the leaves of the blooming dahlias 
 that shed their silent beauty on the scene around. 
 She beckoned to me very, very earnestly, I 
 dreamed, to come to her, but Laura's hand, 
 linked firmly in my arm, kept me back, and in 
 the struggle of an undecided and divided will 
 and purpose, I awakened — and discovering that 
 it was all a dream, I, somehow, was impelled to 
 thank my stars that it was so. And yet, think- 
 ing further, I said to myself: " A dream no doubt 
 it is, but very like a reality. Which of those 
 three women do I love the most .'* " 
 
FRIENDSHIP, LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 
 
• 
 
p 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP, LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 
 
 ^AM," said my old friend and chum, Joe 
 Startling, meeting me on the street several 
 days after the events already narrated, "how 
 about that trio of lovely young damsels you told 
 me about the other day? Have you made a 
 choice between them yet ?" 
 
 "No, no : and I am troubled almost to death 
 about them. The struggle is as terrible as ever, 
 and I am as undecided as ever. I have just 
 had a pleasant talk with Mrs. Wilkins, my moth- 
 erly landlady, and she thinks me a fool." 
 
 " I don't know but she is right, Sam," he said, 
 laughing ; " a man who doesn't know his own 
 mind, and can't decide what his own tastes and 
 preferences are, is not far from being a fool." 
 
lOO The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 "But, Joe," I said, warming up at this im- 
 peachment of my manhood, "you acknowledged 
 to me the other day that if it was your case you 
 wouldn't know how to decide. True, you ad- 
 vised Laura as the best woman for an honest 
 lawyer's wife, but how do you know that either 
 of the other two wouldn't be just as good a wife 
 for an honest lawyer? Both are fine ladies, 
 possessed of every quality that a good man 
 would desire in a good woman." 
 
 "Nonsense, man!" he exclaimed, seriously, 
 " if you have a mind of your own — if you have 
 power of judgment — you can, if you really know 
 what love is, decide this matter, and the sooner 
 you do it the better. I know you well enough 
 to know that if you permit a matter of this kind 
 to trouble you, it will monopolize your best 
 thoughts, and be a serious obstacle in the way 
 of your professional success, which, at your time 
 of life, is everything. Decide at once, and let 
 that be the end — that is, if you are sure the one 
 of your choice loves you, and that you love her. 
 
Friendships Love and Jealousy, loi 
 
 There, now, bachelor as I am, you have my 
 views plainly, and honestly, too, I assure you.'* 
 
 I saw that Joe was sincere.- He meant every 
 word he said. Just then a thought struck me. 
 
 "Joe," I said, "you know these three young 
 ladies, of whom I have told you. Now I have a 
 favor to ask of you. Will you accompany me, 
 next Saturday night, to the town of Trowbridge, 
 to spend Sunday there, and spend one evening 
 at Deacon Jones', where we will meet his 
 daughter Mary, and also one evening at his 
 neighbor Bingle's, where we will meet Laura 
 Ferris V 
 
 Joe hesitated a moment, and finally consented. 
 It was agreed that we would, on. the next Satur- 
 day, go to Trowbridge, returning the next Mon- 
 day morning. 
 
 No sooner had Joe left my office than a post- 
 boy entered the door and handed me a letter. 
 Opening it, I found, to my gratification, that it 
 was from Mary Jones. It was written in an 
 elegant hand, and read as follows : 
 
I02 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 "Trowbridge, August 15, 18 — . 
 " Mr. Samuel Traverse : 
 
 "Dear Sir — Acting in the capacity of my 
 father's Secretary, I enclose herewith, at his 
 request, a check, which he desires you to accept 
 for the service you have rendered him profes- 
 sionally. He trusts it will be satisfactory. 
 
 " In my own behalf, as well as at my father's 
 request, I very cordially invite you to call, at 
 any time, at our rural home, and become the 
 guest of a family that sincerely esteems you. 
 " Yery respectfully, sir, 
 
 "Mary Jones." 
 
 It was a neat specimen of feminine chiro- 
 graphy, judiciously worded, and I fancied that I 
 could see beneath every word the smiling eyes 
 and the beautiful face of its writer. 
 
 " If Joe could see that tastefully-framed little 
 missive," I thought, " he might conclude that 
 Laura Ferris is, after all, not the only young 
 lady who would make an excellent wife for an 
 honest lawyer. I warrant that this farmer's 
 daughter would make any good and true man a 
 good and true wife." 
 
Friendship, Love and Jcalonsy. 103 
 
 Leaving my office early in tfie evening, I went 
 to my home at Mrs. Wilkins', and there, sitting 
 alone in the drawing-room, grave and dignified 
 almost to chilliness, I found Frances. Taking 
 her hand, I said, "Frances, what is the matter.? 
 Why do you treat me so coldly.?" 
 
 " I am not accountable for my feelings, Sam," 
 she replied ; *' I cannot help feeling hurt that, 
 without saying one word to me about it, you 
 should have followed cousin Laura to her 
 uncle's — and that, too, so soon after her de- 
 parture. Why did you not tell me frankly that 
 you loved her.?" 
 
 I endeavored, with great gravity, to explain 
 the facts of my going to Trowbridge, and assured 
 her that meeting Laura there was the merest 
 accident ; but I could see by her looks and her 
 manner that she doubted my story, which 
 piqued me greatly, and the fact that, without 
 saying much more, she covered her face with 
 her hands and left the room sobbing, did not 
 add to my comfort the least. Presently I heard 
 
I04 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 her mother in the adjoining room, and, calling 
 to her, tried to explain the whole matter to her, 
 expressing regret at Frances' suspicions and 
 reproaches. She seemed to sympathize with 
 me, remarking, "Don't let it trouble you, my 
 son — it's one of those little lovers' quarrels 
 which never last long." But, somehow, I 
 thought I could discover even in the old lady's 
 looks, as we were speaking, that which told me 
 she, too, doubted me, and that she, too, felt 
 annoyed with me. 
 
 We three sat down to tea that evening as 
 unsocially almost as if we had been strangers. 
 Few words were spoken, and those merely 
 conventional. There were no demonstrations, 
 looks or words indicating unfriendliness, but 
 there was wanting that freedom and cordiality 
 which had always hitherto characterized our 
 intercourse, both at the table and in the draw- 
 ing-room. The only speech made by Frances, 
 during the repast, was this : " Mr. Gentry is a 
 very fine gentleman, don't you think so, Sam.^" 
 
Friendship, Love and Jealousy, 105 
 
 I replied that, from the slight opportunity I had 
 of making his acquaintance, my impression was 
 very, favorable. 
 
 '' I am glad to hear you say so, my son," spoke 
 up Mrs. Wilkins, " for he is a good friend of 
 ours, and is very fond of Frances." 
 
 Never before that moment had I experienced 
 the emotion of jealousy. That last remark of 
 the mother set my blood on fire, and much as I 
 would dislike, even at this day, to do injustice to 
 these good friends of mine, whom I had so long 
 regarded as mother and sister, I could not help 
 but think, as I was pondering over the matter in 
 my own room subsequently, that these remarks 
 about Mr. Gentry were made with the deliberate 
 intention of exciting my jealousy. Those who 
 understand the nature, the arts and the ingenuity 
 of woman better than I did then, will pass their 
 own judgment upon this point. 
 
 Suffice it to say that in our subsequent con- 
 versations neither the misunderstanding between 
 Frances and myself, nor the name of Mr. 
 
lo6 TJic Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 Gentry, was even as much as referred to again. 
 At the same time it was very evident to me that 
 Frances was jealous of her cousin Laura, and 
 that I was jealous of the black-bearded man 
 who was, as I foolishly felt, encroaching upon 
 my domain. 
 
 On the night after the unsatisfactory evening 
 at tea, I retired half-provoked, and yet feeling 
 that Frances Wilkins was too rare a prize to be 
 given up. I sank to sleep, and, as usual, got to 
 dreaming, and this time my dream was of 
 Frances and that black-bearded man. I 
 thought that he came to steal her away from me, 
 and that, catching him in the act, I seized and 
 throttled him unmercifully, and that then 
 Frances turned fiercely upon me, calling me a 
 *' cowardly wretch." And that was all of that 
 dream I now remember, or care to recall — it 
 made me miserable for days afterward. Not 
 that I believed in dreams- for I did not, and do 
 not now — deeming them as nothing more or less 
 than the wild pranks of the imagination when 
 
Friendships Love and Jealousy, 107 
 
 the reason, its keeper, is dormant ; but the ter- 
 rible rebuke conveyed by the fierce look and the 
 withering epithet from so unexpected a source 
 sent a terror to my very soul, from which I did 
 not soon wholly recover. 
 
IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 ^^^ROMPTLY at the appointed time on the 
 ■^ next Saturday, Joe Startling entered my 
 office, ready for the journey by railway to Trow- 
 bridge, which station we reached an hour before 
 sunset. Engaging quarters at a hotel at the 
 little village clustered around the station, after 
 partaking of refreshments, we started for the 
 farm-house of Deacon Jones, which we reached 
 after a leisurely walk of half an hour. We found 
 the good old Deacon at home — also, his wife — 
 likewise his daughter. Our visit was, of course, 
 quite unexpected, but our welcome was none 
 the less cordial. Mary Jones was delightful — 
 buoyant in spirits, brilliant in conversation, and 
 
1 1 2 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 beautiful as an angel. She would have charmed 
 the most stoical man in the world. The even- 
 ing passed quickly and joyously, and it was 
 along toward the midnight hour when Joe and I 
 bade the family good night and returned to the 
 station and to our rooms in the hotel. 
 
 My plan was for both of us to spend this 
 evening together at Deacon Jones', and the next 
 at Mr. Bingle's, with Laura. By special invita- 
 tion of the Deacon, we agreed to accompany 
 him and his family to the little church on the 
 hill near by on the ensuing Sunday. He would 
 send his carriage for us, he said, and Mary 
 would drive. 
 
 A summer Sabbath-day in the country, when 
 the sky is cloudless, a slight breeze stirring, and 
 a smiling and yet solemn peacefulness pervades 
 all nature, can be fully appreciated only by him 
 who seldom enjoys the luxury. The very birds 
 in the trees seem to have prepared themselves 
 to observe the day with more joyous songs than 
 those they warble on ordinary days ; the cattle in 
 
In the Country. 113 
 
 the fields move among the pastures more slowly 
 and solemnly and lie down in the shade of tree 
 or grove oftener and longer at a time, and seem 
 to chew ther cud more leisurely and philosophic- 
 ally than on other days ; the sky looks calmer, 
 and its blue is deeper, and you can apparently 
 look farther up into the heaven of our imagina- 
 tion ; the men, women and children you meet 
 are dressed for a holiday, and their humanity 
 beams in their countenances and exposes itself 
 in their walks and conversation as on no other 
 day ; the people with good hearts and good con- 
 sciences feel better on that day, in the country, 
 and are really nearer God and Heaven. Sun- 
 day in a large town is no Sabbath at all as com- 
 pared to that of the country, with its calm, quiet 
 and quieting influences, its simple-hearted in- 
 habitants, its sumptuousness of nature, its free- 
 dom from art, its thousand glories of earth and 
 sky and air and stream. Happy they who live 
 in the great, broad, peaceful country, where 
 there is no crowding, no elbowing one another. 
 
114 Tlie Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 no " style," no empty pretentiousness, no dwarf- 
 ing conventionalities, on Sunday nor any other 
 day ; but where there is freedom in its broadest 
 and most beautiful significance, and rest in its 
 holiest and most refreshing sense. 
 
 Feelings and sentiments like these filled our 
 minds and souls, while on that bright and placid 
 Sabbath morning, Joe Startling and I strolled 
 for an hour or two through the fields and groves 
 and by the side of a modest brook in the 
 vicinity of Trowbridge Station. Neither of us 
 accustomed to the country, it was a rare luxury. 
 We had often seen the country before, but it 
 never seemed so much like a paradise as on that 
 lovely August morning. The wild flowers never 
 bloomed so gaily ; the grass never was so green 
 and soft and luxurious ; the birds never sang 
 and whistled and twittered so joyously; the 
 summer sun never shone so mercifully, and the 
 atmosphere of the morning never seemed so 
 pure and exhilarating. 
 
 We walked on until we reached a well- 
 
In the Country, 115 
 
 traveled highway, when, seating ourselves on the 
 stump of a tree by the wayside to rest, we pres- 
 ently saw a carriage approaching, in which, as it 
 drew nearer, we could see two occupants — man 
 and woman; and when it had almost reached 
 us, I heard a voice and a ringing laugh that 
 were very familiar to my ear — they were the 
 voice and the laugh of Laura Ferris. She had 
 evidently recognized us before we had even sus- 
 pected seeing friends. The occupants of the 
 carriage were Mr. Bingle and his niece. The 
 greeting on both sides and all around was cor- 
 dial — for Joe was well acquainted with these 
 friends of mine — and after making due explana- 
 tion of our happening there at this time, (which 
 was that we came to spend a quiet day in the 
 country, and Avere intending to call at Mr. 
 Bingle's in the evening,) they insisted that we 
 must get into their carriage and drive home with 
 them, Laura saying very earnestly that she had 
 " something very important" to tell me. Explain- 
 ing that we had an engagement to accompany 
 
Ii6 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 Deacon Jones' family to church that morning, 
 we excused ourselves, and, after promising to 
 meet us at the church, they drove on, leaving 
 Joe and I to retrace our steps to the hotel, where 
 we had scarcely arrived when Miss Mary Jones, 
 alone and beautiful as a peri fresh from Paradise, 
 drove up in a carriage, in which we soon were 
 seated. I offered to take the reins, but she, 
 thanking me, declared she was passionately fond 
 of driving horses, and I must confess that she 
 handled the two spirited chargers with greater 
 skill than I could have managed them — in fact 
 she drove them with the confidence and dex- 
 terity of an experienced horseman. Soon we 
 reached tl e gate of the Jones mansion, where 
 the Deacon was waiting for us. Making some 
 excuse for his wife not accompanying us, as she 
 had intended, he joined us in the capacious 
 family carriage, which was of the olden style, and 
 Mary Jones drove us quickly to the little church 
 on the hill, a mile away. 
 
 "A neighbor died this past week," remarked 
 
In the Country, 117 
 
 the Deacon, as we were slowly walking toward 
 the church dooi*, "and the services in the 
 church this forenoon will be' in respect to his 
 death. The pastor is absent on his summer 
 vacation, and, by special request, I have. con- 
 sented to take charge of the services." 
 
 A death in the country, like a summer's Sab- 
 bath-day in the country, is a more solemn event 
 than is a similar occurrence in a large town. In 
 the country the inhabitants are few and scattered, 
 and when one of them dies a vacancy is made 
 that is both seen and felt ; whereas, in the town, 
 where many live, many also die, and one death 
 in the community, even if it be that of an im- 
 portant person, is like the falhng of one tree in 
 a dense forest. In the town every man is but a 
 small part of a mass, while in the country there 
 is no mass — every one being in a measure iso- 
 lated and having a specific identity and oneness. 
 When one dies there, it is like the cutting down 
 or falling down of a tree that had long stood in 
 
Il8 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 the middle of a field, where all could see it, and ^ 
 where, having fallen, all would remark it. 
 
 The faces of all those who were gathered into 
 the small church were sedate, and you could 
 feel that you were in an atmosphere of sighs and 
 heavyness. The people were sad — they were 
 mourners — the grief of their bosoms was re- 
 flected in the solemnity of their countenances. 
 It was a congregation of country people — old 
 men and old women — young men and maidens — 
 and here and there a white-headed boy and a 
 silken-haired girl — all dressed plainly but clean- 
 ly, and most of them very neatly. 
 
 The time for the opening of the services 
 arrived. An elderly gentleman arose from a 
 front seat and read an old-fashioned hymn ; the 
 congregation arose as orderly as a company of 
 soldiers would move to the music of a funeral 
 march, and they sang the mournful old hymn as 
 we were wont to hear it long ago in the village 
 church of our early boyhood. With every note 
 you could hear a sigh — with every pause you 
 
In the Cotnitry. 119 
 
 could imagine the dropping of tears — with every 
 rise and fall of the combined voices your own 
 heart would swell and relax 'in sympathy with 
 tie emotions of the sorrowing friends. The 
 hjmn sang, the congregation solemnly sank 
 dcwn into the seats again, and then, after a short 
 pause. Deacon Jones arose and advanced to the 
 front of the pulpit. 
 
 '* Good neighbors and friends," he said, slowly, 
 and with a trembling voice, " we have assembled 
 in this holy temple at this time to give expres- 
 sion in words to the emotions of our hearts, at 
 tVe death of our old neighbor, Mr. Fergus, who 
 departed this life on last Wednesday, and whose 
 Ifeless form now lies buried in yonder grave- 
 yard. You all knew him as we all know each 
 other. A good man — honorable in all the deal- 
 .ngs and relations of life — a Christian by profes- 
 sion and in practice — a faithful citizen, a peace- 
 ful, kindly neighbor — the deceased commanded 
 and received our respect, our esteem, and our 
 confidence. The sadness of our hearts — our 
 
I20 The Loves of a Lazvyer. 
 
 silent tears — our unaffected sorrow witness the 
 greatness of our conscious loss by his death." 
 
 Then, wiping the big tears from his cheeks, 
 and pausing for a moment to suppress emotions 
 that could with difficulty »be controlled, te 
 resumed : 
 
 "And what more can we say — what more 
 need be said — except to apply to ourselves tie 
 lesson which the occasion teaches? He has 
 only taken, in advance of us, the road which ve 
 all must take at last — the path that leads down 
 into the grave. He has gone only a few days, 
 or at best only a very few years, before us. Let 
 us pray God that we may go as peacefully, hap. 
 pily as he has — that we may be as well prepared 
 as he was to meet our Creator in eternity." 
 
 The Deacon spake these few appropriate 
 words very slowly and impressively, and when 
 he sat down almost every head in that congrega- 
 tion was bowed down, and there was scarcely an 
 eye that was not moist with tears. It was a 
 model funeral sermon — one of few, simple words, 
 
In the Coimtry. 121 
 
 but every word befitting — and it seemed to me, 
 a stranger and a spectator, that it was z. perfect 
 sermon for the occasion, and that, had he said 
 one word more or one word less, or had other 
 words been chosen than those in which he 
 expressed his few measured and solemn utter- 
 ances, it would not have been so. 
 
 The congregation then sat quietly — so quietly 
 that you could almost hear your heart beat — for 
 the space of several minutes, as if to give all an 
 opportunity to ponder and realize the solemn 
 truth the good Deacon had uttered. A short 
 prayer was made by another father of the 
 church ; then a closing hymn was sung by the 
 congregation, less solemn than the first, with 
 more of heaven in it than the grave ; and then 
 the Deacon, raising his right hand upwards, pro- 
 nounced this benediction : " May the Almighty 
 God of the Universe bless, protect and guide us 
 all while we live, and at death take us to him- 
 self in the realms of unending happiness." And 
 
122 TJie Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 the response, hearty and distinct, came up from 
 all over the house, " Amen !" 
 
 The services were ended — the people slowly- 
 moved out of the church, and, after lingering 
 awhile, conversing together, in little groups, in 
 the church-yard and on the roadside, dispersed, 
 each to his own home. Never in all my life had 
 I attended a religious service which affected me 
 more, or impressed itself more deeply upon my 
 memory, than the brief, appropriate, sincere 
 tribute paid by his surviving neighbors to a dead 
 friend in that little country church on the hill. 
 I have listened to the masterly eloquence of the 
 greatest preachers, but, to my mind, as I recall 
 them now, their sermons were tame and power- 
 less as compared to the brief, simple, eloquent 
 funeral sermon of good Deacon Jones, who, as 
 he afterwards informed me, was but a " plain, 
 common man," without any opportunities for 
 education, much less for the cultivation cf the 
 oratorical art, in his early years. 
 
 And — need I say it ? — the effect of that funeral 
 
In the Country. 123 
 
 incident, with the Deacon's judicious, well-timed 
 and impressive words there spoken, and with 
 what, sitting beside Mary Jones during the ser- 
 vices, I observed of her deep-hearted sympathy 
 with her father and with the solemnity of the 
 occasion — she wept and sighed as though the 
 deceased had been her nearest, dearest friend — 
 was to fan the already burning flame of my 
 affections toward that young lady : and when we 
 arose from our seats, and were advancing 
 towards the door in the aisle, I took her hand 
 gently into mine, and whispered : " Your father 
 is a saint. Miss Jones — and — and — for his sake, 
 as well as for your own, I — I — I — " but I did 
 not finish my intended remark, owing to the 
 coming up of Mr. Bingle, who said Laura was 
 waiting at the church door to speak with me. 
 It was just as well, I suppose — ^just as well, that 
 I did not, there and then, say to Mary Jones 
 what I wished. But while I was whispering to 
 her she pressed my hand, and that was enough. 
 
CROSS-PURPOSES. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CROSS-PURPOSES. 
 
 ly^OMING out of the little church on the 
 hill, I met Laura at the door, and she 
 requested me to accompany her to her uncle's 
 and spend the remainder of the day, saying she 
 had a matter of great moment to speak to me 
 about, alone. It was quickly arranged. Laura 
 and Mary Jones arranged it in a twinkling. 
 Trust the ladies when it comes to arranging 
 matters. My friend Joe was to accompany 
 Deacon Jones and Mary to their home, and I 
 was to accompany Laura and her uncle to 
 theirs ; and in the evening Joe and Mary were 
 to come over to Laura and her uncle's, and 
 thence we could go to our hotel at the station in 
 the evening, as we desired, for an early start in 
 
128 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 the train for Westerly next morning. That is 
 the way they arranged it, and of course Joe and 
 I had to submit and acquiesce. Laura and 
 Mary both insisted, and when a lady insists, all 
 that a gallant young gentleman can do is to bow 
 his head and give hL assent. 
 
 So that is the way it was. Joe v^ent home 
 with Mary and her father, while I went home 
 with Laura and her uncle. I must confess to 
 you that the arrangement did not meet with my 
 cordial concurrence ; I did not like the idea of 
 Joe Startling, chum and friend of mine though 
 he was, spending an entire afternoon alone with 
 angelic Mary Jones, whom I admired, on seeing 
 her on this occasion, more than ever before, and 
 the sincere respect and veneration with which 1 
 became inspired for her saintly father, after that 
 impressive service in the church, had the effect 
 of stimulating the esteem — shall I call it love.'* — 
 with which I had from the very first become 
 inspired regarding her. But the ladies them- 
 
Cross-Purposes, 1 29 
 
 selves had arranged the programme, and submis- 
 sion was a necessity of the hour. 
 
 Dinner at noon — a chat with-the family in the 
 parlor — a stroll through the garden and the lawn 
 with Laura — tea in the evening, and then a 
 moonlight walk. These were the incidents of 
 my Sunday visit at Mr. Bingle's. But this is a 
 mere outline. What was said between Laura 
 and I during that eventful afternoon and even- 
 ing would fill volumes. I can report for the 
 reader's edification only one bit of the conversa- 
 tion, which occurred after leaving the parlor for 
 a stroll in the garden : 
 
 " What is it, Laura, that you are so anxious to 
 tell me — that 'important matter' you hinted 
 at.?" 
 
 "Well," she replied, "before I tell you, I wish 
 to know what really are the personal relations 
 between you and my good cousin Frances 
 Wilkins." 
 
 " The relations between us, as you know," I 
 9 
 
130 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 said, " have always been very friendly ; I esteem 
 Frances very much." 
 
 " But you don't really love her, do you, Sam V* 
 
 " I cannot honestly say that I do not," was my 
 frank reply. " But why do you ask me these 
 questions? What has Frances to do with the 
 important matter you have to tell me.^" 
 
 "Only this, Sam," she said, pressing my arm 
 impulsively, *' that Frances Wilkins has promised 
 to marry another man." 
 
 " What ! Mr. Gentry r 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Gentry!" 
 
 " How do you learn this V 
 
 " I received a letter this very morning from 
 Frances herself, in which she tells me so — and, 
 what is more, Sam, there is a very mysterious 
 expression in her letter, which annoys me, as I 
 think it will you, but you may know its signifi- 
 cance better than I do, and therefore I tell you 
 of it. The expression is this," and she pro- 
 duced the letter, and pointed out to me these 
 words : " And now, Laura, I wish you joy of 
 
Cross-Purposes, 131 
 
 Sam Traverse — he is yours without any further 
 rivalry from me. I have been apprised of the 
 loving time he and you had together lately at 
 uncle Bingle's." 
 
 I was astonished at first — then vexed; and I 
 observed that Laura watched me very closely — 
 studied my face as if to read therein the revela- 
 tion of a mystery. 
 
 " Laura," I said, after a brief pause, in order 
 to compose my confused senses, " I am surprised 
 at this, and yet am not surprised when I come 
 to think of some recent incidents at your aunt 
 Wilkins' house." And then I gave her a history 
 of Mr. Gentry's visit; of Frances' exhibition 
 of jealousy when I told her of my professional 
 visit to Deacon Jones', which so accidentally 
 resulted in my meeting her (Laura,) at her 
 uncle's, and of the subsequent conversation at 
 the tea-table, in which Frances and her mother 
 complimented Mr. Gentry. **It is well as it is, 
 Laura. Frances and I may have thought much 
 of each other, as you and I did when you were 
 
132 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 one of our family ; but no confessions of love 
 have ever been exchanged between us, and I do 
 not see, under the circumstances, why she should 
 hot love and marry another man." 
 
 "I will tell you now, Sam," Laura said, "and 
 tell you frankly, that Frances and I have often 
 had little contests and fits of jealousy in refer- 
 ence to yourself, as to which of us you thought 
 most of. You now tell me that no confessions of 
 love have ever passed between you and her ; — 
 such confessions have passed between you and 
 me, though — and — and," she hesitated, and then 
 asked, *' Now tell me, honest and true, you meant 
 it, did you not, Sam ?" 
 
 And she pressed the arm which she held very 
 closely and looked up into my face very ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 " Laura, what I have said to you I viean with 
 all my heart ; and I believe — yes, I know — -you 
 mean it, too." 
 
 Much more was said — words of earnest senti- 
 ment — words too sacred to be repeated here. 
 
Cross-Purposes, 133 
 
 The afternoon passed off pleasantly at Mr. 
 Bingle's — so did the evening in the moonlight. 
 At the same time I could not -help wondering to 
 myself, occasionally, what Joe and Mary were 
 saying and doing over at Deacon Jones' together. 
 The evening hours were speeding their course 
 into the night, when, while sitting on the ve- 
 randa, Laura and I heard voices, and saw two 
 forms approaching in the pathway through an 
 adjoining field, by the moonlight. The voices 
 and the forms were those of Joe and Mary. 
 They joined us, but the hour was so late that we 
 could not tarry much longer. Mary was to 
 spend the night with Laura, and we two beaux 
 bade them good night, and directed our steps 
 toward our hotel at the station. 
 
A FRIEND'S MYSTERY. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A FRIEND S MYSTERY. 
 
 ^AM," said Joe, while we were leisurely- 
 walking down the highway toward the 
 hotel, after leaving the ladies at Mr. Bingle's 
 veranda, " that Miss Mary Jones is a perfect 
 treasure — as beautiful as could be, and as bright 
 and lovely as she is beautiful." 
 
 ** I am glad you agree with me in this respect," 
 I said ; " but how about Laura ? — what think you 
 of her.?" 
 
 " There is really but little choice between the 
 two," he said, hesitatingly; ^'both are charming 
 ladies, worthy of the love of the best men that 
 ever breathed. Laura would make you a good 
 wife, Sam — I know that, and I could very readily 
 perceive that she adores you. As regards Mary 
 
138 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 Jones, I must acknowledge to you that she is the 
 first young woman that I have ever met that I 
 could fall in love with, completely and over- 
 whelmingly. She is a most delightful young 
 lady." 
 
 "Well," I said. "I am glad to see you so 
 enthusiastic. You are in raptures over Mary, 
 and yet suggest that Laura would make me a 
 good wife. Why might not Mary make a 
 better?" 
 
 " I could tell you, Sam, but you must excuse 
 me now. You marry Laura first, then I will tell 
 you." 
 
 "More mystery!" I exclaimed. 
 
 " You invited me down here to help you come 
 to a decision as between these two ladies. All I 
 can say, as the result of what I have seen and 
 know of them now, is, marry Laura Ferris. You 
 will never regret it — I'm sure of that." 
 
 "You may be right — you may be right," I said, 
 musingly; "but I would like to know why you 
 advise me thus." 
 
A Friend's Mystery, 139 
 
 **Well," he replied, "in the first place, you 
 know her well, and know that she is an excellent 
 lady ; in the next place, she knows you well, and 
 loves you; and, in the last place, you are over 
 head and ears in love with her." 
 
 This ended our conversation on that topic for 
 that night. Reaching the hotel at the station, 
 we retired, rising early next morning, and, taking 
 the first train, were speedily transported back to 
 Westerly. 
 
 The mystery involved in Joe's remark — 
 "marry Laura first, then I will tell you" — both- 
 ered me from the moment he uttered it. The 
 same indescribable emotion came over me that I 
 experienced when Mrs. Wilkins and Frances, at 
 the breakfast table, praised Mr. Gentry to me. 
 It was jealousy. I at once suspected that it was 
 as I had feared it would be — that that Sunday 
 afternoon and evening alone with the pretty 
 Mary Jones would result in Joe's falling in love 
 with her and she with him. The thought at first 
 troubled me — and it continued to trouble me 
 
I40 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 even after I had reached my office and tried to ^ 
 dispose of some professional business that was 
 awaiting my attention. Somehow, while I was 
 drawing up a brief for a client, in a pending suit, 
 the name of Mary Jones and the pretty face of 
 Mary Jones would, in spite of me, come flitting 
 like a thing of beauty across my mind, and, 
 involuntarily, I would shake my head and pro- 
 test myself a silly fool. And then, looking out 
 at my window, I chanced to see, passing by on 
 the street, a short, sprightly lass, with auburn 
 hair, reminding me, with a thrill of joyousness, 
 of Laura Ferris — vivacious, affectionate, confid- 
 ing creature — and then, pacing the office floor, 1 
 finally declared to myself that Joe was right — 
 his advice was good ; I felt that I indeed loved 
 Laura, that she indeed loved me, and that she 
 would indeed be a good wife. " Why then 
 bother my head further about Mary Jones or 
 Frances Wilkins, or anybody else?" 
 
 I wonder — I wondered then, and have a thou- 
 sand times wondered since — whether young men 
 
A Friend's Mystery, 141 
 
 are, as a rule, so unstable of mind, so irresolute 
 of purpose, as regards the question of the be- 
 stowal of their affections and the choice of a 
 wife, as I was. After these many years of 
 experience and observation in the world and its 
 society, I have never found exactly such a case 
 as mine — such an instance of uncertainty, inde- 
 cision and suspense ; and yet such cases may be 
 as plenty as there are young men and young 
 women, for aught I know — it is impossible to 
 read hearts or to penetrate the secrets of man's 
 inmost nature. But I hope men are not, as a 
 rule, bothered and self-tormented as I was in 
 this re2:ard ; if they are, I pity them ; they are 
 deserving of compassion, for they do not suspect 
 what fools they are. Were I, at my present time 
 of life, to be asked my honest advice by a young 
 man who was halting between two or three 
 opinions — or, rather, between two, three or more 
 female objects of his affectionate contemplation, 
 I would bluntly tell him : " Interest yourself in 
 only one at a time, and if you are convinced 
 
142 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 that she is the right one, take her, and let that 
 be the end." 
 
 Perhaps, however, I am not a good adviser in 
 this matter. Having myself not had the sense 
 to act according to this rule, possibly — I say 
 possibly — I may not have sense enough even 
 now to give safe advice, or any advice, on the 
 subject. But I give it as my candid opinion 
 that if some wise friend had given me some such 
 advice when I first commenced floundering in 
 the midst of my great quandary, it would have 
 served me to good purpose. And yet you are 
 right, sir, — and I will not stop to dispute it — 
 when you say that most young men are queer 
 fellows — that you must let the human nature 
 that is in them work out its own destiny — that, 
 by giving them advice upon such subjects, 
 you are only wasting your precious breath. It 
 might — possibly and perhaps — have proved so 
 in my case. Very likely — very likely. 
 
AN ORDEAL. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AN ORDEAL. 
 
 'NTERING the drawing-room at Mrs. Wil- 
 kins' one evening, many days after the 
 events of the foregoing chapters — the mother 
 and daughter having in the meantime treated 
 me with all the friendly consideration of former 
 times---I soon discovered in their faces and 
 actions that something unusual had occurred — 
 that a cloud had suddenly come athwart their 
 domestic sky. It was soon explained. 
 
 " I received a letter from Laura to-day," re- 
 marked Frances, addressing me, and then she 
 commenced sobbing, but presently continued, 
 '* and she tells me, Sam, that you and she are 
 betrothed." 
 
 10 
 
146 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 ''That is true, Frances," I said — and so it 
 was — Laura and I, by an interchange of letters, 
 had within a few days pledged each other to 
 each other in real earnest — " But why," I asked, 
 "should you feel badly about it?" 
 
 " I suppose there is no good reason why I 
 should, Sam," she said, in a voice that trembled 
 with emotion ; " but you might at least have in- 
 trusted the secret to me, who have so long been 
 as a sister to you. And — and," she sobbed as 
 if her heart would break, *' I suppose I ought 
 not to tell you now, but I have loved you, Sam ; 
 but it is now too late to talk about that. I feel 
 very, very miserable. Pardon this confession 
 and this exhibition of childishness." 
 
 " But I had learned, Frances — and not from 
 yourself, either," I said, "that you are engaged 
 to be married to Mr. Gentry." 
 
 "It was Laura who told you that," she said; 
 "in a moment of foolish jealousy I wrote her 
 that, wickedly thinking to annoy both you and 
 her. Mr. Gentry appears to be a fine gentle- 
 
An Ordeal. 147 
 
 man, and is a suitor for my hand, but there is no 
 engagement between us, and probably never 
 will be." 
 
 "Really, Frances," I said, rising, "I am very 
 sorry that events have taken the turn they have. 
 You and I have been warm friends so long that 
 I grieve to know that I have been the innocent 
 cause of giving you pain. We must and will be 
 friends — yes, sister and brother — hereafter as we 
 have been heretofore. 'Laura and I are engaged 
 to be married, it is true — and we love each other 
 Very truly, you may be assured. The reason I 
 did not apprise you of my intentions and plans 
 was that I supposed it was a fact that you and 
 Mr. Gentry were engaged. You remember how 
 you distrusted me when I returned from my 
 accidental meeting with Laura at Trowbridge, 
 and how you and your mother spoke of Mr. 
 Gentry at the tea-table that evening. That, 
 taken in connection with what you wrote to 
 Laura, decided my course. All I can say now — 
 and I say it from the bottom of my heart — is, 
 
148 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 that I have always loved you, and am sincerely 
 sorry that I did not know your feelings and the 
 true state of affairs." 
 
 I suddenly stopped. Something seemed to 
 whisper to my soul that I was saying too much 
 and I concluded abruptly. Heavens ! what a 
 fool I am — I thought — ready to fall in love anew 
 with her who was really my first love, after I had 
 pledged myself, heart and hand, to another ! I, a 
 lawyer, who is looked to for safe advice by his 
 clients — hoping to be a judge on the bench, 
 sometime, perhaps — have not sufficient power 
 of judgment or decision to know my own mind 
 for a week at a time in a matter so immediately 
 personal 'to myself as that of a preference 
 between women ! What would be the result if I 
 should be called upon to give -an opinion or 
 pass judgment upon an intricate question in 
 which the most sacred interests of individuals or 
 communities were involved } This would be a 
 matter of reason, however, rather than feeling. 
 
A71 OrdeaL 149 
 
 But, nevertheless, what a- shallow, fickle, capri- 
 cious fellow I am ! 
 
 These were the thoughts \\\zX passed like elec- 
 tric currents through my mind in that moment 
 while sitting alone . in the presence of that 
 majestic, noble young woman — the very ideal 
 of womanly dignity and tenderness — while she, 
 dear soul, sat sobbing and sighing by my side. 
 
 ^^Yes, yes, Sam," she finally said, ^*we will 
 always be friends, but you know we can never be 
 more than that." 
 
 "More than that!" I exclaimed, for I had now 
 recovered myself. " To be true and good 
 friends, Frances, is much — very much, indeed, 
 as this world goes. But, trust me, I will be as 
 good a friend to you as a real brother would be. 
 And I wish you would still, and always, regard 
 me in that light. I ask that, wherever we may 
 be and whatever we may be, you will ever regard 
 me as a real brother — one who feels all the in- 
 terest in you and for you that a real brother can. 
 I mean this, Frances — I do, indeed." 
 
1 50 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 She thanked me and said, " I know you mean 
 it, Sam — I know you do." 
 
 Just then her mother entered the room, much 
 to my relief; for then other matters than those 
 of the heart were the subjects of conversation, 
 and one of the severest ordeals of my life was 
 ended. 
 
A REVELATION. 
 
CH AFTER XV. 
 
 A REVELATION. 
 
 FITTING in my office one afternoon, I was 
 gratified at receiving a call from my friend 
 and late client, Deacon Jones, of Trowbridge. 
 I received him cordially, of course. 
 
 " I came in specially to see you and consult 
 with you," he said, after being seated, "on a 
 matter of the utmost importance to me, Mr. 
 Traverse, and without taking up any more of 
 your time than is necessary, I will at once make 
 known my business." 
 
 " Mr. Jones, I assure you that as much of 
 myself and of my time as you require is not 
 only now, but always, at your service," I re- 
 marked. 
 
1 54 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 " I thank you, sir, and appreciate your cour- 
 tesy. I came to ask you regarding Mr. Start- 
 ling, your friend — who is he, and what is he ?" 
 
 "A very fine gentleman, I assure you," I 
 replied; " he was a comrade of mine in college, 
 and is a most honorable and worthy man." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say so," he rejoined; 
 ■^^you know him well, do you.^" 
 
 " There is no man in the world I know better, 
 and no one in whom I have more confidence. 
 But why do you ask concerning him V 
 
 " I come to you in the strictest privacy, and 
 will tell you the object of my inquiry. He has 
 asked my daughter's hand in marriage, and they 
 have asked my consent to their union. My 
 daughter is a very good girl, has been carefully 
 educated, and has ever .been dutiful and precious 
 to us. It is hard for my wife and I to make up 
 our minds that she may marry and leave the 
 home of which she has so long been the light 
 and life. But, I suppose, this must be so sooner 
 or later;" and the old gentleman sighed deeply 
 
A Revelation 155 
 
 as he said this. " We cannot in reason expect 
 our children, pr-ecious as they are to us, to 
 remain with us always. We inust be willing to 
 let them do as we did ourselves — marry and 
 establish homes and families of their own. I 
 am persuaded that Mary is greatly devoted to 
 this young gentleman, and he seems to be a very 
 likely man." 
 
 "Have no fear of him," I said, with emphasis; 
 *' he will prove a good husband and a dutiful and 
 worthy son-in-law. I know him very well. He 
 is one of the most respected and successful mer- 
 chants of the city, and is the very model of an 
 honest and trusty gentleman." 
 
 The Deacon's face, which had on it an anx- 
 ious, troubled expression when he first came in, 
 now brightened up, and, taking my hand, he 
 smilingly and earnestly said: "I believe you, 
 *and am now a happy man. If, as you say, Mr. 
 Startling is a worthy gentleman, who will love 
 and cherish the dear girl, as a true husband 
 should, and as she deserves, it will all be well, 
 
156 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 and her mother and father, to whom she is as 
 the apple of their eye, will feel that the few 
 remaining years of their lives will be cheered by 
 the consciousness of her happiness. Good day, 
 Mr. Traverse — I thank you very heartily — good 
 day!" and the old gentleman departed with a 
 light heart. 
 
 I wonder if young beaux generally, when they 
 sue for the hands and hearts of the daughters of 
 such parents as Mary Jones had — good people, 
 who rear their children with care and love them 
 fondly — have anything like a just appreciation 
 of the great request they make, and the great 
 sacrifice they demand of them. I have seen 
 mothers weep and fathers look sad during the 
 marriage service that gave their daughters to the 
 possession of strangers. When I was a very 
 young man I marvelled at this : not so now, lor 
 I have learned to appreciate their situation, and 
 understand how like plucking out the heart it is 
 for fond parents to give up, at the marriage 
 altar, the daughters of their years of care and 
 
A Revelation, i$y 
 
 affection. They see their beloved ones embark- 
 ing upon a sea that is new to them, and upon 
 which many as dear and precious as they have 
 found rough sailing, and even fatal shipwreck. 
 Don't wonder at a parent's anxiety — it is the 
 most natural thing in the world. And, as I now 
 look back and recall this confidential interview 
 with good old Deacon Jones, I honor him for 
 the anxiety he then exhibited to know who Joe 
 Startling was, and for the relief and gratification 
 he manifested when assured that he was a worthy 
 gentleman. 
 
 But these thoughts did not occur to me then. 
 Another subject of contemplation occupied my 
 mind after the Deacon's departure. I recalled 
 that Sunday visit of Joe and myself to the 
 Joneses and the Bingles, and the misgivings I 
 then had, in connection with my own purposes, 
 of the propriety of the arrangement Laura and 
 Mary made, by which Joe was given the unex- 
 pected privilege of spending an afternoon and 
 evening with the Deacon's charming daughter. 
 
158 The Loves of a Laivyer. 
 
 "It turned out just as I apprehended," I mused 
 to myself, " and now I see that my sudden and 
 uncomfortable feeling of jealousy, when Joe ad- 
 vised me to marry Laura, and refused to tell me 
 why he commended her rather than Mary to me, 
 was not without reason/' My suspicion was 
 , now fully confirmed. Well, so it goes ; but I 
 wished them joy — I did, indeed — for I was well 
 aware that I could not, without joining the 
 Turks — there were no Mormons then — possess 
 more than one wife at a time. The fates had 
 decreed that that one should be Laura, and 
 surely I should not begrudge my excellent old 
 chum and friend the possession of Mary. But, 
 somehow — so preposterous is the innate nature 
 of man — I could not at first, without a real 
 struggle of contending emotions, reconcile to my 
 ideas of right and duty the necessity of giving 
 up all claim to that lovely and beautiful young 
 woman. Finally, however,' after reproaching 
 myself for my selfishness, unreasonableness and 
 folly; after reminding myself of the sacredness 
 
A Revelation. 159 
 
 of my plighted faith to Laura; after analyzing 
 and weighing my real feelings toward my be- 
 trothed, as I had done often before, and satisfy- 
 ing myself of the genuineness of my affection for 
 her; after recalling all the pleasant incidents of 
 my association with her, both at our home at 
 Mrs. Wilkins', and at Mr. Bingle's, and thinking 
 of her many words and acts of love and confi- 
 dence; after going gravely and thoughtfully 
 through all this process of self-examination and 
 reflection, I reached the conclusion that Maxy 
 Jones belonged as much and as rightfully to 
 Joe Startling as Laura Ferris belonged to Sam 
 Traverse, and that henceforth no woman, be she 
 ever so womanly, no maiden, be she ever so 
 winning, no lady, be she ever so beautiful — not 
 even if she be the very queen of her sex — shall 
 divide with Laura the affection of my heart — I 
 owe it all to her — the dear sister that was, the 
 dear love that is, the loyal and true wife I know 
 very well she would be. 
 
 Having finally come to this well- settled con- 
 
i6o The Loves of a Lazvyer. 
 
 elusion, I gradually dismissed from my mind all 
 thoughts of my old love for the dignified and 
 majestic Frances Wilkins, whom I met daily, and 
 in a very friendly way, at her mother's house, 
 which continued to be my home, and — strange 
 to say — almost forgot the lovely Mary Jones. 
 Laura, whom I visited occasionally, and with 
 whom I corresponded daily, had indeed, and in 
 very truth, become the sole idol of my heart. 
 
 So it is that we can govern and subject our 
 emotions and passions and control ourselves, if 
 we do but exercise the will-power that is innate 
 within us, and earnestly follow out the dictates 
 of our reason and our enlightened sense of duty 
 to ourselves and to others. Not that I would 
 have you think that my exclusive devotion to 
 Laura, finally, was a mere matter of will and 
 reason — it was more than that — it was, in addi- 
 tion to these, the prompting of as genuine a love 
 as ever inspired the heart of man. So I thought, 
 and so I felt. 
 
IN THE GREAT CITY. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN THE GREAT CITY. 
 
 <2^ 
 
 HAD occasion to go to the great city at the 
 (g^ East, on business for a client, in mid-winter. 
 It was a tedious journey, and an unfortunate 
 time to be away from home ; snow, cold weather, 
 and a general conspiracy of the atmospheric 
 elements to render human existence miserable 
 anywhere but at home. When coming out of the 
 vestibule of the post-office in the great city, one 
 evening, I saw a tall, handsome gentleman stand- 
 ing near the door as I was about to go out into 
 the street, and, stopping, I tried to think when 
 and where I had seen him before. I knew I had 
 met him somewhere, but could not recall the 
 time and place. Finally, proceeding to the 
 door at which he was standing, intently reading 
 a letter, I passed behind him, and hastily, per- 
 
164 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 haps impudently, looking over his shoulder upon 
 the written sheet he held in his hand as I was 
 passing out, I instantly recognized the hand- 
 writing, and at once identified the handsome 
 gentleman as Mr. Gentry. It was a mere acci- 
 dent. The letter he was reading — I could have 
 sworn to it, so well I knew the chirography — was 
 from Frances Wilkins. 
 
 I did not stop to speak to him, but going into 
 the street, took a stroll through the principal 
 thoroughfare of the city. It was crowded with 
 people — some going to their homes after the 
 day's labor and business — some on their way 
 to places of amusement — others, like myself, 
 strangers, walking the streets merely to pass 
 away time. Presently a party of three gentle- 
 men passed me hurriedly, and I recognized Mr. 
 Gentry as one of them. They were fine looking 
 men, well dressed, with smooth manners, but too 
 careless in their talk to suit my notions of gen- 
 tlemanly propriety. 
 
 "Look here, Gent," I heard one of the tiio 
 
In the Great City. 165 
 
 say, as they were passing me, " why are you so 
 glum to-night? What's come across you?" 
 
 " Nothing of much consequence," he replied; 
 "only I've just received a long letter from a 
 sweetheart of mine in the country, and I don*t 
 exactly like the way she writes." 
 
 This excited my curiosity at once. I accele- 
 rated my pace so as to keep near them. 
 
 '' Love affair, eh ?" said one of the other two ; 
 " you ought to have got over that sort of thing 
 long ago, old fellow. Love ? women ? Hum- 
 bug!" 
 
 "It does look a little like that," replied Mr. 
 Gentry ; " but if a smart, handsome country lass 
 gets too sharp for a fellow, it makes him feel 
 sort o' cheap, you know — and that's what ails 
 me." 
 
 The surging, elbowing, jostling crowd, that 
 moved, like the currents of two intermingling 
 but opposing rivers, behind me, before me, an,d 
 on either side of me, soon separated the trio of 
 well-dressed, fast-walking and loud-talking gen- 
 
1 66 T;ic Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 tlemen from me, and I heard no more of their 
 conversation and lost sight of them. 
 
 It was Frances Wilkins that Gentry alluded to, 
 and I wondered what it was that that " country 
 lass" had written to him. "He must be a very 
 smart man," I thought, " if he can get the start 
 of that young lady. Country lass he may deem 
 her, but she has more good sense than the 
 majority of your city flirts — sense enough, I'll 
 warrant, not to be easily captured by any of your 
 flippant city beaux." 
 
 This incident revived all my old admiration 
 for Frances. This man Gentry, I thought, has 
 sued for her hand, and sued in vain. He may 
 be a very handsome fellow, very wealthy even, 
 and all that, but Frances Wilkins' heart is not in 
 a condition just now, nor just yet, to be given to 
 a stranger, if to any man. And there, in the 
 midst of that great city, in the midst of that 
 ever-moving, ever-pushing throng of humanity, 
 on that thoroughfare of life and restlessness, my 
 old interest in Frances came back to me. I 
 
In the Great City. 167 
 
 could not help it — it was a resistless impulse. 
 Mary Jones was nothing to me — and, for the 
 moment, I came near even forgetting my sacred 
 duty to Laura. 
 
 "What a simpleton I am !" I exclaimed, aloud, 
 as I entered my room that evening, in the great 
 hotel. " What a fool not ^o be able to dismiss 
 this feeling, and concentrate, once for all and 
 unchangeably, my love and devotion upon the 
 one to whom my solemn vow has been made." 
 
 " And who is this man Gentry } " I asked my- 
 self, as, thinking over the evening's events, I was 
 vainly trying to compose myself for a good 
 night's sleep, preparatory to my return home 
 next day. " Who is he that thus lightly talks to 
 his fellows in the street about his * sweetheart in 
 the country.?' " I didn't like the flashy looks of 
 his companions, and much less did I like the 
 peculiar manner in which he spoke to them 
 about that " love letter," as he called it. 
 
A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ETURNING home from the great city, 
 ^^\ and burying myself in the business of my 
 office, trying hard and successfully to dismiss all 
 thoughts of love and women from my mind, 
 except as to Laura Ferris, I soon succeeded in 
 becoming a complete master of myself. Laura 
 had now come to be indeed the one particular, 
 only object of my affections, and I was a happy 
 man. This feeling and this happiness was in- 
 creased as, almost daily, I received tender 
 messages and epistles from her. 
 
 I met Joe Starling on the street one day and 
 congratulated him upon his triumph in winning 
 Mary Jones. He wanted to know how I had 
 found it out. I did not tell him. ''You mysti- 
 
172 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 fied me once, my boy," I said, " and now I will 
 be as mysterious as you were then ; but although 
 I then imagine myself in love with Mary, be 
 assured, nevertheless, that I was quick to adopt 
 your advice, to marry Laura. The day is set, 
 Joe, and I invite you to join a select bridal party 
 at Mr. Bingle's one month from to-day." 
 
 '^One month from to-day!" he exclaimed. 
 "To-day is Tuesday — let me see! Why, Sam, 
 that is the very day that Mary andT have set for 
 our marriage." 
 
 "Is it possible?" I exclaimed. "Singular 
 coincidence — isn't it?" 
 
 " It is, indeed ! but can't we so arrange it as to 
 attend each other's wedding, Sam ?" 
 
 And we talked it over further, but failed to see 
 how the matter could be arranged or rearranged 
 before consulting the two ladies who were imme- 
 diately concerned. 
 
 I visited Laura a day or two afterwards, and 
 on announcing to her the fact of Joe's and Mary's 
 wedding-day being appointed on the same day as 
 
A Double Wedding, 173 
 
 ours, thinking it would be news to her, she let me 
 into the secret that she and Mary, who, living 
 neighbors, had always had a good understanding 
 between themselves, had purposely agreed upon 
 that day, thinking to surprise their prospective 
 husbands. And she informed me, furthermore, 
 that it had been arranged between them that 
 both parties should be married at the same hour 
 in the little church on the hill, by the same . 
 clergyman. 
 
 As I had occasion to remark before, trust the 
 ladies for arranging things. Their ingenuity for 
 arranging things is only equaled by their intuitive 
 appreciation of the fitness of things. 
 
 Of course, the very next time that Joe saw 
 Mary, she likewise disclosed to him the secret of 
 the prearranged double-wedding day — and so it 
 was well understood by both couples and their 
 families, and by Mrs. Wilkins and her daughter 
 Frances, and, indeed, the entire communities 
 both of Westerly and Trowbridge soon knew of 
 it. How a secret, once revealed, flies and 
 
174 T^J^(^ Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 becomes a notoriety — especially when such 
 matters as marriage engagements and bridal- 
 days are involved therein. 
 
 The month soon passed. The double-wedding 
 took place in the little church on the hill. It 
 was a joyous occasion, of course — very joyous 
 and very delightful. A wedding in the country 
 is always a marked event. There is one such 
 only at great intervals, and then old and young, 
 as if it were a matter of personal duty, take a 
 part in it, directly or indirectly. -The little 
 church was filled. The congratulations were 
 many and hearty. Good old Deacon Jones and 
 "^dear old Mrs. Deacon Jones, both as sedate as 
 Quakers when the ceremonies were in progress, 
 became as cheerful and happy after the solemn 
 rites had been performed as the gay-hearted chil- 
 dren who lingered around the church porch, and 
 Mr. Bingle and the feeble Mrs. Summerfield, 
 Laura's venerable grandmother, fairly danced 
 for joy when congratulating the newly-married 
 pairs. 
 
A Double Wedding, 175 
 
 " God bless ye, dear children,** said the aged 
 grandmother, " God bless ye, and give ye long, 
 happy and prosperous lives, and He surely will, 
 if ye be but true to Him, to yourselves and to 
 each other. Oh, beautiful spectacle! — one to 
 make the very angels of heaven srrjile — to see 
 four such handsome, likely and loving young 
 people as ye are, starting out together on a career 
 of blessedness ! Bless ye, dear children, bless 
 ye ! " 
 
 The old lady's face shone like that of a sainted 
 patriarch while she spoke, and the earnest kisses 
 she pressed upon our cheeks seemed like sealing 
 for Heaven's ratification her invocation for a 
 blessing upon us. 
 
 And there were Mrs. Wilkins and Frances, the 
 noble young woman ! They, too, were warm in 
 their congratulations, and the latter, after kissing 
 Laura, kissed my cheek, and whispered, "Oh, 
 Sam ! be happy, but never forget me !'* " Never, 
 Frances," I whispered in reply, "never while I 
 have life.'* And she was happy — I could see it 
 
iy6 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 in her large, dark eyes, and a smile crept over 
 her queenly face like a ray of sunshine. And 
 we were all happy together there, in that sacred 
 little church on the hill^ — very happy, very joyous 
 — very, very indeed. 
 
 A wedding tour to the West, and, after a 
 month's absence, our return to Westerly, and 
 then a settling down into quiet homes. Deacon 
 Jones purchased a grand house for his Mary and 
 her husband; and Laura's grandmother — dear old 
 soul — gave my wife a title-deed to a fine house in 
 the city — "the old homestead," she said, "in 
 which I lived when I was a bride, and in which 
 Laura's mother was born." And our happiness 
 did not end with the close of our honeymoon — 
 oh, no — it was as continuous as the light of the 
 sun. 
 
 With our final settling down in a home of our 
 own, the ardor of our mutual affections became 
 intensified, and our married life became literally 
 a reciprocity of idolatry, and all went well. In 
 my profession I began to prosper rapidly, and 
 
A Double Wedding. 177 
 
 the law office of Samuel Traverse gradually 
 became one of the . chief ones in the city. 
 Friends, clients and business increased daily, and 
 all went well. 
 
 All went well, too, with Joe and Mary, who 
 were very happy — very devoted — very blessed. 
 12 
 
THE FAIR WEEK. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE FAIR WEEK. 
 
 J HERE was a great fair week in Westerly in 
 the autumn — one of those annual assem- 
 blages of the people of a wide region of country 
 to see the gathering together of the sample 
 products of stable, soil, shop, factory and studio, 
 for which this favored part of the world is noted. 
 It was a great week. The exhibition was mag- 
 nificent in everything almost that the labor, skill 
 and ingenuity of man could produce. It was a 
 vast show of animals, machinery, vegetable and 
 floral wonders, farm products, fruits, woman's 
 handiwork, the artist's genius and the artisan's 
 skill. The city was alive with people — country 
 people and village people, young and old. They 
 came in from the distance of an hundred miles. 
 
1 82 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 in carriages, on horseback and on foot. The 
 country highways were animate with comers and 
 goers. It was a great week. The hotels and the 
 boarding-houses of the city were crowded to the 
 utmost capacity of their accommodations, and 
 every private house in the town had its guests. 
 The stores and the shops swarmed with people, 
 and the streets were filled with flowing and inter- 
 mingling currents of humanity. It was a grand 
 gala-week. The extensive fair grounds were 
 literally covered with human beings, and the 
 great exhibition halls swarmed like vast bee-hives. 
 It was a glorious week for Westerly. The weather 
 was as pleasant and balmy as that of an Italian 
 May, and the sky as bright as that of a tropical 
 summer. A great week it was for the country 
 and the town — a holiday-week — a week of amuse- 
 ment and festivity. The men and the women, 
 old and young — the children, and all — made it a 
 week of unusual pleasure and gayety. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Deacon Jones came up from 
 Trowbridge and spent the week with Joe and 
 
The Fair Week, 183 
 
 Mary, and Mr. Bingle and grandmother Summer- 
 field came up and spent the week with Laura and 
 I. And, one day, while pushing our way through 
 the multitude at the fair grounds, Laura and I 
 and Joe and Mary and the rest of us, all unex- 
 pectedly came upon Mrs. Wilkins and Frances, 
 under the gentlemanly escort of Mr. Gentry. 
 They were enjoying the sights, and, meeting us, 
 stopped just long enough to exchange salutations, 
 and were soon lost in the throng again. 
 
 "That man Gentry I don't like," I remarked 
 to Joe. *' I cannot tell why, but I am suspicious 
 of that fellow, and I don't like to see him coming 
 to Mrs. Wilkins' house so often.'* 
 
 Joe said nothing. It was not the time nor 
 place to discuss people's individual characters. 
 We ourselves, in such a vast crowd as was there 
 assembled, felt like mere drops in an ocean. We 
 were very small parts of the big mass. Mr. 
 Gentry was as large and as small as every other 
 one of the crowd, no more and no less, but I 
 could not help feeling troubled about Frances on 
 
184 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 his account. I had a premonition that his 
 presence here in Westerly would eventually 
 cause trouble. In other words, I was fearful that 
 he would gain the heart of Frances Wilkins, and 
 after what I had seen of him and heard him say 
 in the crowded thoroughfare of the great city, I 
 became distrustful of him. I feared that he was 
 not a good man — not the man for the noble 
 Frances Wilkins. I mentioned my misgivings to 
 Laura that day. "Never mind, Sam," she said 
 *' Frances is in no danger of capture by a stranger. 
 She will never leap in the dark. Set your mind 
 at rest in that regard." 
 
 " But what is the fellow doing here at this 
 time } Why does he visit at Mrs. Wilkins' so 
 often, unless he meets with encouragement.^" 
 
 Laura did not know, but still thought there 
 was no danger — that Frances knew what she was 
 about, and that Mr. Gentry must prove up his 
 credentials very satisfactorily before she could be 
 induced to give herself to him. 
 
 The fair week closed. Our visitors departed. 
 
The Fair Week. 185 
 
 The fair grounds and the exhibition halls were 
 deserted. The streets of the city resumed their 
 ordinary, common-place aspect. But it had been 
 a great week for Westerly, and for all the country 
 round about. 
 
A DEATH-BED REQUEST 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A DEATH-BED REQUEST. 
 
 J HE sky is bright and the world beautiful 
 to-day ; to-morrow come clouds and gloom. 
 
 There is no pain like that of the sympathy and 
 anxiety of the loving heart when the object of its 
 devotion lies prostrate, helpless and suffering on 
 a bed of illness — when neither physician can 
 afford relief nor care or tenderness bring comfort 
 or hope — when death threatens life, and your 
 very soul trembles in apprehension of the ap- 
 proaching crisis. 
 
 The second anniversary of our marriage had 
 scarcely passed, when Laura — my wife, my idol — 
 was attacked by a burning, consuming, merciless 
 fever. Day after day, night after night, for many 
 
igo The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 weary, troublous, anxious weeks, we watched by 
 her bedside, helpless for her relief. She was 
 fading away. The cheek that had been so full 
 and fresh, was now sunken and pale ; the deep 
 blue eye that had shone with love and life, was 
 now dull and fireless ; the form that had been so 
 full of life and buoyancy, was now a mere skele- 
 ton — thin, and as helpless as that of an infant. 
 
 "What think you now, doctor.?" I asked of the 
 physician one morning, after a sleepless, restless, 
 anxious night. 
 
 "She is dying, sir — she is dying," he said, 
 solemnly. 
 
 And it was so. The idol of my soul was being 
 snatched from me, and I was a gloomy, wretched 
 man. 
 
 "Samuel," she said, in a feeble whisper, "I 
 am going — oh, it is so hard to leave you ; but 
 God's will be dune — God's will be done. He 
 has always been good to us, and always will be." 
 She paused for breath, and then, pressing my 
 hand with a final pressure — it was the last time, 
 
A Death-Bed Request, 191 
 
 and I thought my heart would break — she said, 
 "Samuel, my love, when I am gone, seek another 
 wife — one who will be true to you and worthy of 
 you. Marry Frances, Samuel — she loves you, 
 and will be as true to you as I have been. Marry 
 Frances, Samuel, and God bless you !" 
 
 These were her last words. She folded her 
 snow-white hands over her breast, closed her 
 eyes, and it was all over. The house that had 
 but a few weeks before been the home of love 
 and joy and promise, was now a house of gloom 
 and grief and mourning. Its very soul had gone 
 out — -its presiding deity had been snatched away 
 ruthlessly, cruelly. 
 
 "I am alone in the world once more — all, all 
 alone;" thus I spake inconsolably to myself, on 
 the desolate evening of that day on which we 
 consigned her precious form to its last resting- 
 place in the cold, damp earth. "All, all alone! 
 Oh, that I, too, could die, and thus end this woe 
 and dreariness of soul !" 
 
 It was many weeks before I could recover from 
 
ig2 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 the cruel blow that had fallen upon me. My 
 grief was profound and depressing, and I wan- 
 dered about, in my office, in the street, in my 
 desolate home, a gloomy, wretched man, who felt 
 that he had now nothing to live for — that he had 
 lost everything worth having in this world, and 
 that death was preferable to life. 
 
THE OLD LOVE. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE OLD LOVE. 
 
 f5)UT no man — and no woman, either — can 
 nurse a great sorrow for a long time and 
 live in sanity. Mine gradually became less a 
 burden ; by immersing myself in the business of 
 my profession, I eventually conquered myself, 
 and ceased to grieve like cne who had lost all. 
 
 Joe Startling was in my office one afternoon, 
 trying, as he had so often tried before, to console 
 and cheer me. It was several months after 
 Laura's death. 
 
 " I this morning saw Mr. Gentry," he said, 
 '* coming out of Mrs. Wilkins' house. Is he still 
 a suitor for Frances' hand .^" 
 
 Somehow this announcement awoke me as if 
 from a deep sleep. 
 
196 TJie Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 "Mr. Gentry? Frances?" I said; "that can- 
 not be, I think. I do not believe she would ever 
 marry him. Do you know him, Joe ?" 
 
 " I have inquired, and now know who he is, 
 but have no personal acquaintance with him," 
 said he; "he is not a man for Frances Wilkins 
 to marry — that I know. He is a — a — gambler — ^ 
 a professional sporting man — an adventurer." 
 
 "You astonish me!" I exclaimed. "It can- 
 not be that Mrs. Wilkins and her daughter are 
 aware of his character. They must be in- 
 formed." 
 
 And I instantly seized my hat, and leaving 
 Joe at the first street corner, hurried to Mrs. 
 Wilkins'. I found mother and daughter at 
 home. After preliminary conversation, I sought 
 an opportunity to allude to Mr. Gentry. 
 
 "I understand," I finally said, "that Mr. Gen- 
 try is in town to-day." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Wilkins, rising, "he called 
 here this morning — it was his first visit for 
 several weeks." 
 
The Old Love, 197 
 
 The mother then left the room, and Frances 
 and I were alone — alone for the first time since 
 the night of that ordeal when she had first 
 learned that Laura and I were engaged to be 
 married. 
 
 "Frances," said I, '' on the day when Laura 
 and I were married, in the little church on the 
 hill, in Trowbridge, you and I exchanged whis- 
 pered words — do you remember them ?" 
 
 " I do, indeed, and will never forget them. I 
 then asked you never to forget me, and I do not 
 know what spirit of good or evil impelled me to 
 do so — it was hardly the proper thing to do 
 under the peculiar circumstances. And I re- 
 member your answer — that you never would 
 forget me while you had life ; that answer made 
 me very happy, Samuel — why, I cannot tell." 
 
 "You remember, too," I said, "the night when, 
 in this very room, you upbraided me, with tears, 
 for having engaged myself to your cousin Laura 
 without intrusting the secret to you, who had 
 always been a sister to me." 
 
198 TJie Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 " I jemember it well — very well ; and I re- 
 member equally well what you then said to me — 
 that you would always be as a brother to me — a 
 true friend, wherever or whatever we may be?** 
 
 " I am glad you remember these circum- 
 stances and assurances so well, Frances, because 
 I have come now to demonstrate my brotherly 
 and friendly interest in you. Pardon me if I ask 
 you a delicate question. Do you love this man 
 Gentry ? Is there anything more than ordinary 
 friendship between you?" 
 
 " He appears to be a very fine and accom- 
 plished gentleman," she replied, "but I have 
 given him no encouragement, and I do not wish 
 to marry. I once had such a thought, several 
 years ago, but it was a girlish whim, and I then 
 dismissed it, and have never since then had 
 occasion to change my resolution. But why do 
 you ask me concerning Mr. Gentry?" 
 
 " Because I have this day learned who and 
 what he is, and have deemed it my duty to tell 
 you. He is a professional gambler, Frances, 
 
The Old Love, 199 
 
 and I am sure you would have nothing more to 
 do with him if you were aware of the fact." 
 
 "Are you sure that that is his business?" she 
 asked, in surprise, her face becoming flushed. 
 
 I gave her my authority, and knowing that 
 Joe Startling would not repeat such a statement 
 unadvisedly, she at once conceded the proba- 
 bility of its truth, and thanked me for the warn- 
 ing, assuring me again, however, that there was 
 nothing serious between her and Gentry, and 
 that nothing was further from her thoughts than 
 that of being led captive by him. "There is 
 only one man in the world that I have seen or 
 known," she then concluded, " that I have ever 
 dreamed of loving, but, as I said before, it was, 
 perhaps, a girlish whim, merely, and I dismissed 
 it as soon as I discovered my folly." 
 
 As she said this, she turned her head away, 
 but I. could see a troubled look — a half-sad, half- 
 painful expression — on her face. A brief silence 
 followed, and as I sat silently admiring that 
 womanly figure, and studying the outlines of that 
 
200 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 queenly face — a face that a painter or a sculptor 
 would adopt as a model of perfection — a face 
 that could be all sunshine at one moment, and 
 all dignified repose the next — whose formation 
 was like that of a sculptured Cleopatra or a 
 Venus — it occurred to me suddenly, as if a flash 
 of light had sent the thought into my soul, that, 
 possibly, her old love for me was still alive, and 
 that this is what she meant by the " girlish 
 whim " of former years to which she mysteriously 
 referred. 
 
 **Tell me, Frances," I said, persuasively, 
 ** who was the man you refer to, whom you once 
 thought of as a lover?" 
 
 " That is a secret I can never disclose to you, 
 Samuel; it is the only secret I can never tell 
 you." 
 
 ''Well, Frances," I said, drawing my chair 
 near her's, and taking her hand, '' there is one 
 secret that I have now kept concealed in my 
 own bosom for months, which I could not and 
 never will tell to any living soul except yourself." 
 
The Old Love, 201 
 
 And then I repeated to her these dying words 
 of my wife: "Marry Frances — she loves you^ 
 and will be as true a wife^ to you as I have 
 been." 
 
 "Oh, Samuel!" she exclaimed, with emotion, 
 her whole face suddenly lisjhting up, " Laura 
 knew how I " — but she abruptly stopped there. 
 
 "Well, what did Laura know?" 
 
 " I was on the point of revealing to you the 
 very secret that I a moment ago refused to tell 
 you. First, Samuel, let me ask you a question : 
 Have you ever loved me — could you, or do you 
 now love me ? Tell me honestly, frankly." 
 
 ^' Frances," I said, conscious that now candor 
 and plain speech were in order, " at the time 
 when Laura and I became engaged to be mar- 
 ried, I was in a painful quandary as to which of . 
 you I loved the more, and to this day I cannot 
 decide which of you I then did love the best ; 
 but I have often thought, and I still think, that 
 it is more than probable that, but for my mis- 
 taken supposition that you were engaged to Mr. 
 
202 The Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 Gentry, I would have asked you to become my 
 wife. I have loved Laura truly — her death 
 seemed to me the end of everything — and even 
 now, when I permit myself to think of her, and 
 of how precious she was to me, I become sad 
 and wretched under the consciousness of my 
 great loss. You will not wonder at this, for you 
 know "how true a wife she was to me." 
 
 " No, Samuel, I honor your feelings in this 
 respect," she said. 
 
 " Well," I continued, " you ask me whether I 
 could or do love you now, Frances. In answer 
 to that, I here and now offer you my hand, feel- 
 ing and knowing that my other love — she who 
 has been so much and so dear to me — would^ 
 if she could witness this scene, rejoice and bless 
 us." 
 
 " You are sincere, Sam — I see and know and 
 feel that you are," she said, ^' and now I am 
 really, really happy — now I have the wish of my 
 soul — I have you^ dear, good, brotherly Sam — I 
 have you, whom I have loved so long and yet so 
 
The Old Love, 203 
 
 silently. I will now finish what I had intended 
 to say — that Laura knew how I loved you — how 
 eagerly I hoped, in that test scene which she and 
 I arranged at mother's, years ago— you remem- 
 ber it — when we resorted to what we deemed a 
 shrewd device to ascertain which of us two you 
 loved best — you would in some way, by word or 
 act, indicate your preference for me. It was a 
 girlish affair on our part, I now freely confess ; 
 but when you refused to decide, and when after- 
 wards I learned of your visiting Laura at her 
 uncle's, I despaired, and have been the most 
 wretched creature ever since. It is all over now, 
 and, Samuel, be assured that Laura's dying 
 words will prove to have been the truest words 
 that human lips have ever uttered. I do love 
 you, and I know I will be a true wife to you. 
 Oh, Samuel ! God is good, and He orders the 
 affairs of His creatures mysteriously, but for the 
 best at last." 
 
 It was a rapturous outburst of long pent-up 
 feeling. Her every word, her every tone of 
 
204 TJie Loves of a Lawyer, 
 
 utterance, the earnest expression of her big, 
 dark eyes, the warm pressure of her hands and 
 arms, convinced me, beyond the possibility of 
 doubting, that Frances Wilkins loved me — and 
 instantly, as if the stone of the sepulchre of my 
 heart's buried affections had been suddenly 
 rolled away from the closed door, the old, old 
 feeling came back to me — the old, old love — my 
 first love — and once again life and love were 
 mine. 
 
 It is difficult to reconcile these changes of the 
 emotions and affections of the human heart. 
 Only a few months ago — months of anguish and 
 dreariness of soul — months of grieving and sor- 
 rowing — I longed to go down into the grave in 
 which my precious Laura lay buried, and lie by 
 her side in death ; while now life had a new and 
 intensified charm for me. Those last words of 
 the dear, dying wife, which at the moment of 
 their utterance I regarded as not possible of ful- 
 fillment, proved to be the talismanic sign which 
 resurrected and reinspired a broken heart, and 
 
The Old Love, 205 
 
 restored the manhood of my nature from its lost 
 estate. 
 
 It was only a few months subsequently when 
 there was another wedding, at which Mr. and 
 Mrs. Joe Startling, Mr. and Mrs. Deacon Jones, 
 Mr. Bingle, the saintly old grandmother, Mrs. 
 Wilkins and her stately daughter, my love and 
 my bride, were present. And my love and my 
 bride was then and there — not in the little 
 country church on the hill, but in the mansion 
 of Samuel Traverse, in Westerly — made the wife 
 of Samuel Traverse aforesaid, in form and 
 manner as in such cases made and provided by 
 lav/. Again there were congratulations, hearty 
 and earnest. The good old grandmother again 
 invoked heaven's blessings, and sealed them 
 with a kiss. Mr. and Mrs. Deacon Jones again 
 were joyful of heart. Mr. Bingle, worldly man 
 as he was, when he pressed my hand, remarked : 
 "Lawyer Sam, Laura was a jewel, and now you 
 have another treasure ; bless you, my boy, but 
 don't forget to come out to Trowbridge occa- 
 
2o6 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 sionally." And then Joe and Mary— Mr. and 
 Mrs. Startling — my ever-faithful old chum, with 
 one of my old loves clinging closely to his 
 arm — came up to Frances and I, and after wish- 
 ing us joy, Joe was about to say something 
 which Mary commanded him peremptorily not 
 to, and he didn't; but afterwards he did. "I'm 
 bound to say it," he exclaimed, "and now, dear, 
 don't be foolish — I ivill^ and here goes. Sam, 
 next time you go a courting in the country, don't 
 take with you a better looking fellow than you 
 are yourself — it isn't safe." Mary blushed — 
 Frances looked interrogatively — and the good 
 old Deacon Jones, who stood near by. and heard 
 what was said, remarked: "You trust Lawyer 
 Sam. He knows what he's about all the time." 
 
THE CONCLUSION. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION. 
 
 ^NCE again there was a settling down into 
 the quiet of domestic comfort. Once 
 again the sun of hope and promise shone bright 
 in the sky. Once again I was one of the happi- 
 est men in the world. 
 
 My law business continued to flourish amaz- 
 ingly. My friends soon became as numerous as 
 the inhabitants of Westerly and the region 
 round about. My house was the center of social 
 enjoyment, and my stately, dark-haired, dark- 
 eyed, noble-faced, great-souled wife was beloved 
 by everybody and worshiped by her husband. 
 
 All this was long ago. We have grown old 
 since then, but are happy still. 
 
 Have you, in your wanderings in the region 
 14 
 
2IO The Loves of a Laivyer, 
 
 about Westerly, within the past decade, heard of 
 old Judge Traverse ? Yes, sir, old Judge Tra- 
 verse, whose opinion in matters of the law, there- 
 abouts, is equal to the " so says the gospel " in 
 matters of religion? That old fellow is me — 
 Sam Traverse — lawyer that was, Judge of the 
 Circuit Court that is, and if you should ever 
 chance to come around there again, drop into 
 the old Judge's little paradise of a home, see the 
 now gray-haired but still beautiful Frances, and 
 share with us the kindly gifts that a good Provi- 
 dence has bestowed upon us. And, as like as 
 not, you will, of a pleasant afternoon or evening, 
 find there Mr. and Mrs. Joe Startling, as devoted 
 to each other as of yore. They are also among 
 the old folks now, and we are near neighbors, 
 and all very good people, who are always glad to 
 see their friends. If you desire, on some Satur- 
 day afternoon, we — Joe and Mrs. Joe, and Sam 
 Mrs. Sam — will make up a gay little party for 
 you, and take the cars for Trowbridge Station — 
 stop at the hotel there over night — go and see 
 
The Conclusion. • 211 
 
 where good old Deacon Jones used to live — but 
 he's been dead these Jthirty years, and his sacred 
 dust lies in the grave-yard back of the little 
 church on the hill. Near the graves of the 
 Deacon and his good wife, you will also see 
 tombstones marked with the names of Laura's 
 sainted old grandmother and her daughter, 
 Laura's mother, and her son-in-law, Mr. Bingle. 
 The old churchyard is full of graves — the dead 
 there elbow each other as the living do in the 
 crowded town. And we will, if you choose, 
 attend service in that little church on the hill, 
 and mingle with the simple country folks we will 
 find there — the men and the women who, when, 
 nearly forty years ago, that eventful double wed- 
 ding took place there, were the little boys and 
 girls who played around the church porch. The 
 old folks of that time are all gone — all gone ; 
 and even many of the young folks of that time 
 are gone — scattered world-wide, and some of 
 them resting forever under the sod which hides 
 the dead from the living. 
 
212 The Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 But Frances and I are happy old folks — this I 
 wish to impress upon your mind — we are happy, 
 very happy — have always been so— have always 
 been true and devoted lovers — always — and as 
 the green leaf has gradually but surely assumed 
 a sear and yellow hue, our mated hearts have 
 become more and more one and the same in 
 sympathy and in all things. 
 
 "And what became of Mr. Gentry.?" I think 
 I hear you inquire. He died many years ago, 
 before those black locks or that dark beard of 
 his had grown gray — a convict in Sing Sing. 
 Forgery was the accusation. He sent for me to 
 defend him at his trial, but it was a hopeless 
 case. " Guilty," was the verdict of the jury, and 
 that was the last of a very handsome but a very 
 useless man. He died in prison, after having 
 served a dozen years of his term of twenty. 
 "God be praised!" were among the last words 
 of old Mrs. Wilkins, my motherly mother-in-law, 
 when, thirty odd years ago, she gave her dying 
 blessing to her daughter ; '* God be praised, 
 
The Conclusion, 213 
 
 Frances, that you never married that Mr. Gen- 
 try — it would have been your ruin." The old 
 lady has a monument over' her resting-place — 
 the last tribute of her daughter and her 
 daughter's husband, and the inscription reads 
 thus : " Our Mother — Gone to her God." And 
 near her tomb, in an old church- yard at West- 
 erly, there is another monument, and the in- 
 scription upon it reads : " Laura — Gone to 
 Heaven. She withered and died, as do the 
 
 FLOWERS OF THE SPRING TOO SOON; BUT God's 
 
 WILL BE DONE." 
 
 Frances and I were walking in our garden last 
 June, she leaning upon my arm, and I leaning 
 upon my friendly staff, and when we came to a 
 certain row of elms skirting the lawn, she said : 
 ** Sam, look there — our four children, when they 
 were still quite young, planted those four trees, to 
 represent themselves, to see which would do the 
 best and live the longest, I tended and watched 
 those trees when they were small, very tenderly 
 and carefully, as I had those children. Now 
 
214 ^^^^ Loves of a Lawyer. 
 
 see — they are all of a size, and equally vigorous, 
 with great, spreading branches, affording a grate- 
 ful shade for you and I, from the burning sun. 
 A good omen, my dear old man, a good omen 
 for those precious children of ours, now grown 
 to manhood and womanhood." 
 
 It is only necessary to remark — excuse an old 
 man's tediousness — that the oldest of those four 
 children is thirty-six and the youngest twenty- 
 five. They are all married, and when their 
 families gather in the old homestead at Westerly, 
 as they often do, then do come there and see us; 
 you will find in our joyous company about a 
 dozen little folks, who call Sam Traverse and his 
 wife grandfather and grandmother. 
 
 So goes the world I 
 

 )m^>i^ 
 
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