"This is not his writing--somebody's else. It looks like a lawyer's
'quail tracks,' but" (turning it over), "the signature is father's."
He tried to read it, but found himself puzzled; and one of the sisters
tried to read it also, with like result. At last it was declared by
them all that Floramond understood how to decipher poor writing better
than the rest, and he read at it, making bungling work, however
(pretendedly, of course, for well he knew every word of it). By this
will Mr. Alvord had left all his estate to his "beloved son Floramond,"
subject to the payment of certain annuities to some of the children,
among whom was Margaret, who was to have six hundred dollars a year
until her children should arrive at age, and then three hundred during
her life. The rest all had less. Indeed, the minister, for whom Mr.
Alvord had done most in the way of giving him money, was allowed an
annuity of but one hundred dollars (which was to provide him a rental,
the will said), for three years, and was then cut off entirely.
Mr. Alvord's will was quite elaborate, and stated where his property
was situated,--some in this and that farm, stock in manufacturing
companies, money in banks and on interest; and they were all astonished
at the large amount of it. The will had been written five years and
more before, and there was one peculiar clause in it,--the suggestion
of the crafty lawyer, probably,--which was to the effect that Mr.
Alvord had never before made a will, and that he should never make
another; that he might destroy this, and leave all his children to
share alike if he did so.
Margaret was confounded. She saw that she was left, as it were, in the
hands of Floramond, her often-rejected suitor, and she thought she saw
a smile of triumph on his face. She was greatly confused as to whether
she should say anything about the other will or not; but she thought,
finally, that if she was to ever say anything about it, now was the
time, when all were there. So she told them all about it, and where it
was kept; how Mr. Alvord had brought it home, and how it left a great
deal more to them all, and only one fourth to Floramond, and who
witnessed it. This made the rest jealous of Floramond. With the old
will they were in his hands: they were left comparatively poor. He had
all, and the estate was far larger than any of them had thought, and it
was probable that it had increased much in the five years, too.
Floramond professed to be astonished at what Margaret told, and said he
was willing to abide, of course, as he would be compelled to do, by any
subsequent will; but why, if father had made another will, did he not
call for this one and tear it up? His not calling for it made him
think, he said, that Margaret was probably mistaken. But Margaret was
firm in her statement, and declared that her father had made her read
it all over to him, and she told them about the thousand dollars left
to John, and what John said about Mr. Alvord's calling, on the way
home, to get the will witnessed. Then they sent out for John, who was
at work on the farm, and he came in and told his story before them all.
He could not say that Mr. Alvord had left him a thousand dollars in the
will, but that the day before he had it drawn he said he was going to
do so, and he supposed he did.
At this point Floramond, in a mild way, exhibiting no uneasiness,
blandly suggested that 'before taking the will left with him to the
surrogate's office, the house ought to be searched thoroughly. Perhaps
Mr. Alvord, who had become quite childish and fickle in the last few
weeks of his life, and was always an over-cautious man, had, some time
when Margaret was away, put the document into a safer place, intending
to tell her where, but forgetting it;' and so it was resolved by all of
them that such a search should be made at once, before they parted; and
for an hour that house was searched in every nook, drawer, and possible
hiding-place. Old linen, which had not been for twenty years drawn
forth from trunks and chests which held it, was tumbled over,--in
short, the search was complete as it could be,--but no will could be
found; and there seemed but one way to do--for all to acquiesce, and
accept their fate upon the terms of the will which Floramond produced,
and which was all correct in form.
But there was no little feeling among the children, some of whom
declared it impossible that Mr. Alvord intended to make such
disposition of his property; that Floramond must have in some way used
improper influence with old Mr. Alvord; and all the public, when they
came to hear of the will, were somehow impressed with the same opinion:
nevertheless they all said that Floramond was a jovial fellow, and very
thrifty; that Mr. Alvord liked thrifty people, and as he had provided
Margaret with a sum sufficient in those days to live on, and had given
her the rent of the house for life, perhaps it was, on the whole, just
the thing he should have done. As for the lost will, that got noised
about, and although everybody believed what Margaret said, yet the
majority thought that probably Mr. Alvord had destroyed it. The will
which Floramond had was duly presented and proved at the surrogate's
office, and the estate settled under it.
Time went on, and it brought Floramond frequently to see Margaret,--to
look after her affairs, and occasionally to bring her money. Now that
she was in these straitened circumstances he pressed his suit quite
violently and provokingly at times; and although her patience was
oftentimes sorely tried, she bore her vexation quite philosophically.
It was evident that he did not want her for her money, for she had
none; but she could not believe, after all, that he loved her, and she
was sure that she did not love him. Floramond was a good business man,
and aside from the property he got under the will, he had accumulated a
handsome sum for himself, and in the course of a year or two from Mr.
Alvord's death he began to assume the airs and ways of a rich
man;--enlarged his house and adorned his grounds quite expensively;
built a row of houses in the village to rent, and possessed himself of
"the best team in the county," as he was pleased to declare his noble
span of black coach horses.
All this while he was trying to court Margaret up to the accepting
point, but he failed signally, and every time he visited her he grew
less and less courteous; finally, in the third year, she could not get
her annuity as she wanted it. He promised, but did not fulfil at the
time as before, and he was "short" in his words with her, and spiteful
at times. At last, as if determined to force her into compliance, he
visited her one day, and having failed, though using as much severity
as he could command to win her consent, he got quite angry, and wished
to know of her if she intended to always spurn him; asked her if she
had made up her mind to that, at any rate. She objected to the word
"spurn," for she wished, she said, to receive and treat him as a
brother, but she had always declined his offers of marriage, as she
thought, in a clear, frank way, and she considered that he ought to
know, after all, that she could never consent to marry him.
"Then you shall suffer," said he, bringing his teeth together with
greater firmness, as if he would like to put an end to her existence
with one bite; and he manifested himself with such a degree of anger
that she was frightened, and arose from her chair to leave the room,
when he rushed and caught her firmly by the hand, and telling her to
look straight at him, exclaimed,--
"You proud thing! I tell you now that if you had consented to have me
at first you should now have half of all father Alvord's property as
well as mine; but I have outwitted you. I got him to make his will as
he did, and thanks to John's blundering, I knew when he made the other;
and now, as there's no witness here, I'll leave you to guess what
became of it; and you may groan in poverty for all me, for you'll have
to sue me every time you get any more money out of the estate."
He had hardly ejaculated these words, in anger, before he seemed to see
his error, and as Margaret, now understanding his villany, tore herself
from his grasp, and rushed into another room, he followed her, and
tried to laugh away the effect of what he had said.
"Ho! ho! Margaret, haven't I told you a pretty story though? I wish it
had been true, I declare; but I must tell you that I never believed a
word about the second will. You must have been mistaken, and as to the
first, father and Emerson, the old lawyer, got it up without my
knowledge."
Margaret, who now began to see into his real character, and who hated
hypocrisy, turned upon him, and said, "There's no occasion for you
adding falsehood to your rudeness, sir. Father made that will under
your direction, in my opinion, and as for the last will, you _do_
believe that it existed, and I see now that you probably abstracted it,
and I wish I could never see your face again till you can come prepared
to prove that you did not. Good day, sir," and she attempted to pass by
him.
But he put himself in her way, and said she shouldn't stir a step till
she took back those words.
"I have spoken what I feel must be the truth, and I will not retract a
word," said she; "and you must let me pass, or I will call in John.
There he is," said she, pointing through the window at John, but a
short distance off. The mild, quiet face of Margaret must have assumed
great firmness then, for Floramond looked but once into her eyes, and
stepped aside; and as she passed, exclaimed,--
"You shall live to rue this, to your full satisfaction."
And she did suffer. Floramond managed to vex her in many ways,--sold
off a portion of her garden, on which she depended for her vegetables,
contending that it was only the rent of the house that was left her by
the will; and sending her ten dollars on her annuity when she wanted
perhaps thirty or forty; and getting up stories about her extravagance,
etc. But, fortunately, she had a character and reputation formed, and
he could only vex her in money matters to any great extent.
Weary months passed, and Margaret frequently thought of the wills, and
what Floramond had said; and when the ministerial brother called to see
her one day, about the time his hundred-dollar annuity "for a rental"
was running out, Margaret told him something of her troubles, and her
conviction that Floramond had stolen the will. The minister was not
very astute in law matters, but he could see that it would only be by a
"sort of miracle," as he told her, that they could ever learn anything
of what had become of the will; but Margaret was more hopeful, and
continued to plan ways of getting at the truth.
'There was that old lawyer who had drawn the first will. May be he
could find out something,--lawyers work for the side that employs
them;' but the minister dampened her ardor in that direction, by
telling her that Floramond probably held him under a general retainer,
and he could not be reached; but finally Margaret was so anxious to
have something done, that the minister consented to aid her to the
extent of his little ability, as he was modestly pleased to say, and at
last it came into his head that when he was once supplying for a few
weeks a classmate's pulpit in Brooklyn, he had one evening heard one of
the congregation telling some marvelous stories about the adroitness
and sagacity of detective officers, and he spoke to Margaret of this.
This was something novel to Margaret. She knew there were police
officers, and so forth, but was not aware that there were organized
forces of private officers, detectives. The minister told her one of
the strange stories he had heard, and Margaret was quite astonished by
it, and believed that if detectives could find out "such a thing as
that they could really serve us," and it was resolved by them that a
detective should be obtained, and he might work out something.
All the rest of the children, except Floramond, were consulted, and
agreed to contribute towards procuring the detective; and Margaret, who
had got wrought up about the matter, and was a very capable woman to
perform whatever she undertook, declared that she would procure the
detective. Her cousin had long wished her to visit her at Jamaica (I
think it was), Long Island, and in going through New York she would get
some advice, and hunt up a detective; and thus it came that I chanced
to be called in the case, and I obtained from her about what
information I have thus far embodied in my narrative.
I told her it was apparently a hopeless case; that probably Floramond
(who, I said, had doubtless abstracted the will) destroyed it at once,
as any prudent man would have done, and that I saw no possible clew to
the matter. But she was so urgent, and so willing to pay me for my time
to go and see the rest of the family, and talk with them, and to look
the matter over on the spot, that I consented to go, which I did duly.
I learned but little more than I have recited, in the place where
Margaret lived, but I thought I would like to visit Floramond's lawyer,
and found myself duly at his office.
I am very fond of the members of the profession generally. They are apt
to be more "men of the world" than most other people. The practice of
their profession brings them into contact with all classes of men, and
they learn more or less of charity, and are, in fact, among the most
reliable of citizens everywhere. But there was something in this
lawyer's face (old Boyd, we will call him, and but for a son of his, an
honorable man in an important position, I would call the old villain's
name fully) which revealed to me that I had a curious customer to deal
with; that he lacked moral principle, and was capable of any sort of
dark deed, murder included, perhaps.
I said to myself, instinctively, this old Boyd is at the bottom of this
matter of the wills, and he has not let an opportunity pass to get
Floramond Alvord in his clutches, and keep him there. That second will
was taken by Floramond, I said to myself, and the chances are that he
showed it to Boyd, and if he did, the old man was cunning enough to
keep it. At this point I changed the plan of operations which I had in
theory when I entered his office, and talked with him about things in
general; told him I was a stranger from New York, stopping a day or two
in the village; that when I was younger I had read law a little, and
always felt more at home in a lawyer's office than I did in a country
bar-room or hotel parlor, and seeing his office, had wandered into it.
The old man had considerably many books, but they did not look very
inviting; however, I complimented him on the size of his library, and
at last asked him about his practice, and found that he had a good deal
of patronage, considerable of which his age prevented him from
attending to, such as that in justices' courts; and finally I suggested
that I had a brother who had studied law a few months in the city, and
I thought it would be better for him to study with somebody in the
country; there were a good many temptations for a young man to waste
his time, in the city. He seemed pleased, brightened up a little, threw
off the sombre shadows from his face, and went to bidding for my
brother, by telling me of this and that man who had studied law with
him, and who were now eminent in the profession,--which was a fact, as
I afterwards learned.
So I contracted with him to have my brother come and study with him;
and before I left the town I had secured good board at a moderate price
for him, and went away. I lost no time in conferring with Margaret as
to her ability to furnish me about such a given sum of money a month
for three months, not over six at most, and I found she could do it. I
told her that she must ask me no questions, and in fact must not know
of any such man as I, or speak my name; and that if my plans succeeded,
she would, of course, know the facts, and that would be enough; and if
they failed, after proper trial, I would tell them to her, so that she
should see what use her money had been put to. She was perfectly
reasonable, and consented to all.
I found myself in New York city in two days from that time, and
procured a young man, on whom I bestowed my last name, and sent him on
with a proper letter of introduction to Mr. Boyd.
I told him he had better tell Mr. Boyd that he had forgotten all the
law he had read, and that he guessed he had better read over Blackstone
again at first. I had given the young man the points of the entire case
as I understood it, and told him what I wanted him to do--to take his
time, to study well, and to watch Floramond Alvord's movements in
connection with Mr. Boyd for the first two or three weeks, and to write
me from time to time what he thought of Floramond. But the first thing
he was to do, after being there three or four days, was to "slick up"
the dusty office a little, sometime when Boyd was out, and surprise him
by its neatness on his return, and thus beginning to win upon the old
man's respect as much as possible; to then take down and rearrange the
books and the old papers, and so get himself familiarized to everything
in the office; and to do these things, finally, in Boyd's presence.
He was as shrewd a young man as I could possibly have found, and he was
a handsome fellow, very. Old Boyd told him, when he presented the note
of introduction, that he did not much resemble his older brother!
(me),--which was a sad but absolute truth. But the young man was ready
for him:--
"No," said he; "brother takes after father's family. I'm said to be
mother's boy."
"Yes, yes," said old Boyd, "I'd have known that if you hadn't told me."
My "brother" was not long in becoming popular in that village, and old
Boyd was quite proud of him; but he did keep him studying, was
"faithful" to him, as he promised me he would be. I frequently heard
from my "brother," and at last I got a letter, saying, "Come on; I will
meet you at No. 1" (which meant Mrs. Margaret's) "at such a time as you
may appoint."
I knew by this that my game had worked well, and that there was
probably no time to lose; so I hastened on, and sending a letter before
me, appointing the time, met my "brother" at Margaret's. There was the
document--the lost will! He had it with him. But what was to be done?
In the first place, the witnesses had long been away in California, as
was supposed, and nobody knew where. Efforts had been made by Margaret
to institute a correspondence with them. If they could not be found,
however, we could prove their signatures by others, if we could find
the experts; but Margaret had never been able to find anybody who ever
saw their writing, except the old man's, with chalk on his barn door,
noting number of bushels of wheat, or when his cows would "come in,"
and that would hardly do.
But I bethought me that they had sold out their farm when they went
away, and must have signed the deed, the wife to convey her right of
dower, and I felt easy. I instructed my brother to return to the office
next morning as usual, and go on with his studies, and I would go to
the county seat next day, hunt up the records, and possibly find the
deed still on file there, as well as the record, and then, if it was
not there, I would go to the grantees, and ask for the deed; but these
people were indebted to Floramond largely, Margaret said, and would
have to be approached carefully. She was still in ignorance of the will
being found, but knew, of course, that I had some good reason for what
I was about, and she was equally ignorant that my "brother" was
studying with old Boyd.
I took the will and went next day to the county seat, and though I
could not find on file there the deed which I expected to, I found the
record of it, and the record and the deed, too, of another conveyance
made by the same grantors, and, as luck had it, made on the very day
after the will was signed; and the signatures to the two instruments
were wondrously similar. I was satisfied on this point.
But there was another point to be gotten over; and this troubled my
"brother" a good deal. Although he had been but two months with Mr.
Boyd, he had fallen in love with a beautiful girl (who was the daughter
of the richest man in the town, except Floramond Alvord, and was on
intimate terms with Floramond's daughters), and they were already
"engaged," and he wanted the matter worked so that he need not be found
out in it, for the girl, he feared, would "sack him," as the village
phrase was, if he was known as having searched for and delivered up the
will. So I managed to stop in disguise at the same hotel where I had
been before, and to find my brother in when old Boyd was out, and
learned precisely where he found the will, and the character of the
documents which were in the same drawer with it; a drawer which had
evidently not been opened for many years, save to hide away the will
in. Among the other documents were some curious letters to old Boyd,
from a man by the name of Andrew Wilcox, who had gone away years before
to the west, and died, and who was a waggish fellow, and wrote funny
letters, in a very peculiar style of penmanship.
I was put to my wits' end how to work matters; but my brother told me
that in two days old Boyd was going to start on a journey, to be gone a
week; that the stage would leave the hotel at ten o'clock in the
morning, and after that I could come in again, and may be could arrange
something. But he had told me enough. I had formed my plan before his
words were cold. That night I found myself at one of the adopted
brother's, about ten miles off; told him he must ask me no questions
why, but that I wanted him to appear in the village at the time the
stage was going off, and to ask old Boyd if he didn't use to correspond
with old Andrew Wilcox,--to which he would, of course, say "Yes;" and
then Mr. Alvord was to say, "I thought so, and I'd like, for a certain
reason, to get hold of some of his letters to read. He wrote such a
curious hand, didn't he?" that probably old Boyd would say he was going
to be back in a week, and then he'd hunt them up; but Mr. Alvord should
evince a desire to see them as soon as possible, and ask him if his
clerk couldn't hunt them for him; this to be done just as the stage was
loading up to start; all of which was done, and resulted better than we
expected, for old Boyd was in pretty good spirits that morning, very
accommodating; and told Mr. Alvord that his clerk might hunt up the
papers; though he didn't call him his clerk but said, "Tell the
handsome rascal in my office to hunt and get you all of Wilcox's
letters to read he can find; and I don't mind if you take one or two
along with you, so that you leave me some. Good morning!" and away the
stage rolled.
I told Mr. Alvord that I would go over to the office, and he might drop
in and ask the clerk for the letters, in the course of ten minutes. I
went and arranged things, and he came and told my brother what Boyd had
said. My brother made unsuccessful search in three or four places, and
at last came upon the letters; hauled out a few of them, which Mr.
Alvord run over, laughing here and there at the odd, eccentric
expressions, which he said were just like the stories he had heard
about the old man, when my brother asked if he would like to see more.
As he wished to, they were produced, and among them was reposing the
will where I had placed it.
Mr. Alvord was sitting by a little round table, and as my brother
placed the second batch on the table, I asked him if he would not be
kind enough to go over to the hotel (but a few steps off,) and buy
himself a cigar, and bring some to me, handing him money. He went out;
and placing my hand among the letters, I drew out the will, and placed
it in Mr. Alvord's hands--"_You found that--do you understand?_ But I
will take it, and be responsible for its return, if, after we have
examined it, you think it better be returned." He had no notion of the
will yet, and acted with a sort of mechanical blindness, as I guided
him, throughout wondering what I could be up to. (I had agreed to pay
him very liberally for his time.) "When the clerk comes in," said I, as
I put the paper into my pocket, "remind him that old Boyd said you
might take off some of the letters; the whole stage full heard him say
so; and do you select a few, and when you come out, come over to the
hotel, and find me. I'll be there."
The clerk came in, and brought me the cigars, and I offered one to Mr.
Alvord, who declined to smoke, but kept on reading the letters; and I,
bidding him good morning, walked out after lighting my cigar. In the
course of a quarter of an hour he came out; said he found "Wilcox's
letters very interesting;" and now, said he, "I want to know what all
this means." I got him aside as soon as I could, and we went up to my
room.
Locking the door, I said, "Mr. Alvord, on turning over these letters of
Wilcox's, you came across a paper which you took possession of for a
moment. Now I want it understood that you _kept_ possession of that;
that the clerk handed you a bundle in which you found it, (poor fellow,
what _would_ he say, if he knew that he had unwittingly disclosed the
profoundest secret in all old Boyd's life and practice? But no matter
for that.) You took the paper, and you handed it over to me, and I am
going to keep it for the general good, unless you prefer to keep it. Do
you understand?"
"Why, yes, and no, too," said he. "I understand the language you use,
but I don't know what it's all about. Pray tell me at once, and end my
suspense."
"Well, you promise me on your word, as a gentleman, to be guided by me
in the matter which is to follow, if you think what I shall point out
to be right and just?"
"Why, yes; any man could safely promise that."
"Are you under any special obligations to your brother Floramond?"
"No, sir; only he has lent me little sums of money, from time to
time--which"--
"You have doubtless always paid up?"
"Yes, with interest."
"Ah, ha! then he was lending you money, and getting interest on it,
which really ought to have been your own--wasn't he?"
"Well, yes, I've felt so sometimes; but there's doubt about it,
perhaps."
I had sounded the man deeply enough, and saw his temper towards
Floramond; and so, drawing a little nearer him, I said,--
"You have heard of me before, but have never seen me till night before
last; but we must be intimate friends for a while. Your sister Margaret
has told you of me. I am the detective from New York; and this paper
(pulling it from my pocket) is old Mr. Alvord's last will and
testament--the last one, and you are here entitled to a fortune."
Mr. Alvord's face turned pale with astonishment.
"Let me put my eyes on it!" said he; and I handed it to him, opened. He
ran it over hurriedly, looked at the signature, saying, "There's no
mistake about it; and that's father's signature--just as Margaret
always said it was. I had feared father had destroyed it, and I had
entirely forgotten all about the matter for a good while. I gave up all
as lost the day that Floramond produced the old will, and we searched
the house, all of us, for this."
It was not long from that morning before we had everything arranged for
bringing Mr. Floramond Alvord to terms, and I remained near the scene
directing matters. I held on to the will, while the brother wrote from
his home to Floramond, that his father's last will had been finally
found; that he felt it his duty to inform him of it at once, and that
legal steps would be taken directly; but this letter was not sent till
on the day before old Boyd was expected back.
That day Mr. Floramond Alvord visited old Boyd's office, very earnest
to learn when he would be back, and asked my "brother" to ask Mr. Boyd
to call on him at his house as soon as he should arrive. "Tell him I
have a very important matter for him to attend to," said he, "and want
to see him at once."
Old Boyd arrived, and the clerk gave him the word from Mr. Alvord.
"Some devilish speculation on hand, I 'spose," said old Boyd, gruffly,
as he left his office, and proceeded to Alvord's house. But he wasn't
gone long, and soon came back to the office, and went silently to
rummaging his papers. He looked here and there, as if his memory didn't
serve him exactly; finally he came to the drawer with the Wilcox
letters in them, and my brother watched his manner intently. The old
man took up the letters, laid them out; took up other packages, and
laid them out, and then laid them back, and looking at the Wilcox
letters, said,--
"These look as if they had been disturbed lately. Have you been
arranging this box?"
"No, sir. I've not been re-arranging the papers; but there's a man been
here, the morning you went off, and said you told him he might hunt for
some letters of one Wilcox; and, in fact, as the door happened to be
open, I overheard you tell him so, just as you got into the coach, and
I hunted them up, and he took some of 'em, as he said you said he
might; but he said he would return them," said my brother, very
seriously, "if you thought, when you got home, that he had taken too
many."
"Did you ask him his name?" inquired old Boyd, very gravely.
"No, I didn't think of that. I supposed, by the way you spoke to him,
you were old friends, and I didn't wish to question the gentleman,"
replied my brother, naively, with a probable cock in his eye, which
might have revealed a great deal if old Boyd had seen it.
Old Boyd, with an assumed manner of great composure, said, in
response,--
"I wish you had asked his name. I do remember somebody speaking to me,
in my haste of getting off, about Wilcox's letters. Wonder who it was?"
"I hope he hasn't taken off the most valuable ones," replied the clerk.
"Well, I can't tell; but I fear he has," said old Boyd. "I must find
out who he was. They'll remember over to the hotel, perhaps," and off
he went over there; but it wasn't long before the clerk saw him on his
way to Alvord's house. What transpired there then is only known to old
Boyd and Floramond Alvord.
By the next day the matter was all in an able lawyer's hands, and Mr.
Frederic Alvord and he had a conference with Floramond and old Boyd.
Precisely all that happened between them I do not know; but it would
seem that Floramond had given the latter will into Boyd's hands, and he
had been cunning enough to keep it as a terror over Floramond, who had
indorsed his paper, etc., etc., besides always paying him enormous fees
for legal business, which old Boyd managed to make quite considerable.
Indeed, old Boyd had increased his property a great deal during the
five or six years, and it is probable that he used Floramond to
advantage in many ways.
Alvord thought best to settle with his brothers and sisters according
to the terms of the lost will, and to pay them out of his fourth the
income of which they had been respectively deprived of for the five
years and more. Old Boyd, of course, settled his affairs with Floramond
to suit himself, and it is presumed that he did not lose money; but it
may be that he lost the former's confidence. It must have been a bitter
thing for old Boyd to consider how foolishly he played into Frederic
Alvord's hands through the Wilcox letters. But old Boyd is dead now,
and never, I suppose, learned how Mr. Alvord was led to inquire for old
Andrew Wilcox's funny letters.
Margaret was overjoyed with the success of affairs, and declared, as
did all the rest of the family, that after this she would consider
nothing impossible, and never lose hope, even in the darkest hour. She
is living still, a beautiful but older woman, with her children grown
up about her, and married, I believe.
My "brother," the clerk, took to the profession of the law, and studied
with old Boyd for a year or more, and finished his studies in Judge
----'s office, in Albany,--eventually marrying the young lady to whom I
have alluded, and who brought him a fortune quite too large to be
"laughed at;" but he did not continue at the profession long, but went
into mercantile business, and is now a member, and has been for some
years, of one of the most successful firms in New York city. The firm
name is favorably known in all parts of the land. I should say that he
was, through me, paid by Margaret a quite handsome sum of money for his
"good behavior" in the premises; enough to enable him with economy to
"pursue" his studies--and his lady. I have had many substantial reasons
in my life for not forgetting the Alvord family, who believe that but
for me they would still be lacking comfortable, indeed, large fortunes.
Floramond had enough with his one fourth; besides he had a fortune of
his own. He ceased to persecute Margaret instantly on the development
of his villany, and two years afterwards married a woman, who, I am
told, came to learn of his conduct (which it was for sundry reasons
attempted to keep secret in the family), and being a woman of spirit,
and much extravagance, leads him a funny life--probably using her
knowledge of his conduct as a means of controlling him.
Floramond, should this sketch ever meet his eye, is welcome to reflect
that he was once out-generalled by a man, of whom, happening to see him
(me) one day at the hotel in his village, he asked of the landlord,
"Who is that simpleton?" The landlord was only able, of course, to give
him my assumed name, and say that I was from "Sandy Hill, Washington
County" (as I had registered myself), he believed.
"Yes; well I should think he was dug out of the _sand_, somewhere," was
Floramond's response. I hope he still thinks so, for it must be a
comfort to him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------