"Verily, a good day's work," thought Squire Clamp, as he stretched his
legs in his office that Monday evening. "Mrs. Kinloch is a very shrewd
woman, an extraordinarily capable woman. What a wife for a lawyer
she'd make!--so long as she plotted for, and not against him. But
Theophilus Clamp was not born to be overreached by one of the weaker
sex. I was sure my late lamented friend could not have left his
affairs in such utter disorder,--no schedule of property,--no
statement of debts; too good a business man for that was Walter
Kinloch. I shall now be able to know from these documents what my
late client was really worth, and how large a dower the disconsolate
widow has reserved for herself. Doubtless she has put by enough to
suffice for her old age,--and mine, too, I am inclined to think; for I
don't believe I can do better than marry her when the mourning is
ended. My late spouse, to be sure, would make a quiet man rather
apprehensive about a second venture; but if Mrs. Kinloch _is_ a
Tartar, she is not a vulgar shrew, but will be lady-like, even if she
is bitter. I think I shall take her. Of course she'll consent. I
should like to see the unmarried woman in Innisfield that would dare
refuse Theophilus Clamp. When she knows--that I know--what she knows,
she'll do pretty much what I tell her. I wonder if she hasn't set on
foot a marriage between her scapegrace son and Mildred? That would be
a mishap, truly! But, as guardian, I can stave that off until the
estate is settled, my wedding over, and myself comfortably in
possession. Then, perhaps, we'll let the young folks marry,--at least
we'll think of it. If my son George, now, had not that unlucky
hare-lip, who knows? H'm, well, to business again. Let's see. It's
just as that remarkably keen woman suspected. Hardwick's shop does
stand partly on the land of the estate that joins it; the line will
run right through his forge, and leave the trip-hammer and water-wheel
in our possession; for I paced the distance this morning. Tomorrow
Gunter will make sure of it by a survey; though I think we'd better do
it while the old man is gone to dinner. He's sometimes apt to use
emphatic language. Perhaps now his mangy cur Caesar will seize me by
the coat again! Perhaps Mark will insult me, and the old man laugh at
it in his sleeve! I shouldn't wonder if they managed to pay the notes,
but on the title to the shop we have them fast."
The lawyer looked at his watch. "Dear me! it's tea-time. I must go,
for the church-committee meet this evening. I think, however, I won't
complain of Hardwick to the deacons this time; for he'll be sure to
get into a passion when we commence our suit for ejectment, and I
shall then have a better case against him. A more disagreeable
Christian to fellowship with I don't know anywhere.
"I _should_ like to know," he continued, as he locked the
office-door, "if that Lucy told me true,--if those were all the
papers. No will, no memorandum for one! Well, perhaps Mrs. Kinloch was
careful enough to give that secret to the keeping of the flames,
instead of her bureau. I will make close copies of what I have got for
Lucy to put back, and keep the originals myself. They'll be safest
with me. There's no telling what may happen to papers in a house where
there is a prying servant-girl."
Whether the insects were poisoned by the air of the room, as Mark
Davenport suggested, I cannot say. But when Squire Clamp left the
office, it was as still as a tomb. No cricket chirped under the
hearth, no fly buzzed on the window-pane, no spiders came forth from
the dilapidated, dangling webs. Silence and dust had absolute
dominion.
The next day Mark returned to New York. He had no opportunity of
bidding Mildred farewell, but he comforted himself by thinking he had
provided the means of safely communicating with her by letter. And as
the stage passed by the house, he caught a glimpse, first of her
fluttering handkerchief, and then of her graceful fingers wafting to
him a kiss. It was enough; it furnished him with food for a delightful
reverie as he went on his way. We shall leave him in his former
situation, from which, as a starting-point, he determines to win
fortune or fame, or both. He has your best wishes, no doubt, though
perhaps you think he will not force his way into the close ranks of
the great procession of life so soon as he expects.
That day, while Mr. Hardwick was taking his dinner, his second son,
Milton, who had been fishing at the dam, came running into the house
quite out of breath.
"F-father!" he stammered out.
"Nun-now st-hop," said the black-smith. "W-what are you st-stuttering
for? Wah-wait till you can talk."
"Why, father, yer-_you_ stutter."
"Wer-well, yer-_you_ shan't."
The look that came with this seemed to end the matter. A moment's rest
quieted the nerves of the boy, and he went on to say, that Squire
Clamp, and a man with a brass machine on his shoulder, and a chain,
ever so long, were walking about the shop on the bank of the
river. Lizzy at once looked out of the window and saw the man peering
into the shop-door, as if exploring the premises.
Impelled by some presentiment of evil, Mr. Hardwick got up from the
table, and sternly motioning the boys back, went down to the shop. As
he came near the door, he saw the surveyor holding one end of the
chain and taking sight upon a staff which the lawyer within was
adjusting to its place by his direction.
"Just as I expected," said Squire Clamp, in a satisfied tone.
"An' jest as I expected," broke in Mr. Hardwick upon the astonished
pair. "I knew th-that ef Squire Clamp hed anythin' to do against me,
he wer-would sneak into the shop sus-some time when I'd ger-gone to
dinner."
"We thought it would be most convenient, so as not to interrupt you
about your work."
"Very ker-kind indeed! As ef you wa'n't tryin' to turn me out of
wer-work altogether! But 'tisn't any yer-use, Squire; this is a case
you can't be ber-both sides on."
The lawyer turned, with a placid smile, to his companion. "Mr. Gunter,
I believe we have finished our measurements?"
The man of chain and compass nodded. Nothing abashed by the lawyer's
cool manner, Mr. Hardwick turned to the surveyor, and asked if he
undertook to say that Walter Kinloch's deed called for land that was
covered by the shop?
"I suppose so," was the answer.
"An' now, Sus-squire Clamp," said Mr. Hardwick, "you know that it's
sus-seventeen or eighteen year sence I per-pulled down the old shop
and bought this land."
"Yes, but, unfortunately, it takes twenty years to give you title,"
put in the Squire.
"Nun-never mind that now. Squire Kinloch knew this,--at least, that
there was room for der-difficulty; for we'd talked it over sus-several
times afore he died. An' he allers said th-that he'd hev new deeds
made out, so's to per-per-prevent just such a wrong as this. He didn't
'xpect to go so sus-sudden."
"I'm sorry, Brother Hardwick, to see you bringing up your talk with
the lamented deceased, whom you represent as being willing to part
with his legal rights without a consideration. Even if you had
evidence of it, such an agreement would be a mere _nudum pactum_,
binding neither upon himself nor his heirs."
"Squire Clamp! ger-get out of my shop! Fust to call me _Brother_,
next to doubt my word, an' last to sus-say that a man's free an'
der-deliberet promise--now he's where he can't sh-shame you into
honesty--sha'n't be kept!"
The Squire smiled feebly. "You don't intend, Mister Hardwick, assault
and battery, do you?"
"Yer-yes, ef you don't leave in q-q-q-quick time." And he strode up to
the astonished attorney, his blue eyes flashing, his curly gray hair
flying back from his forehead, like a lion's.
Squire Clamp retreated to the street, took sight each way to be sure
he was off his antagonist's territory, and then vented his cautious
resentment in such well-considered phrases as a long course of
experience had taught him were not actionable at law, nor ground for
discipline in church.
Prudence came to Uncle Ralph's aid, and he did not make further reply,
but locked the shop-door and returned to the house to finish his
dinner. The suit was commenced a few days afterwards. Mr. Hardwick
went to the county seat, some dozen miles distant, and secured the aid
of an able lawyer, who gave him hope of prevailing and keeping his
shop.
The affair necessarily created a great stir in the busy little
town. As the cheerful clatter of the trip-hammer echoed along the
stream on still evenings, and the fiery plume waved over the chimney,
neighbors looked out from their windows, and wondered if the good
blacksmith would, after so many years of honest toil, be stripped of
his property and be reduced to dependence in his old age. The sympathy
of the villagers was wholly with him; but the lawyer held so many
threads of interest in his hands, that few dared to give an opinion
with much emphasis.
Probably the person most grieved and indignant was the one who, next
after the blacksmith, was most interested in the event of the
suit,--namely, Mildred Kinloch. Though no mention was made of the
matter, at home, in her hearing, she could not fail to know what was
going on; but she had now sufficient knowledge of her step-mother and
her guardian to be aware that her influence would not be of the least
avail in changing their purpose.
Mrs. Kinloch did not repeat the experiment she once made on Mildred's
sensibilities by referring to her partiality for Mark Davenport and
his relatives; but, on the contrary, was most gentle in her treatment
and most assiduous in her endeavors to provide amusement, so far as
the resources of the town allowed. In company with Hugh, Mildred
explored all the pleasant roads in the vicinity, all the picturesque
hills and brooks, caught trout, and snared gamebirds, (the last much
against her will,)--and by these means her time was fully
occupied. Hugh seemed to have totally changed; he no longer absented
himself from the family on mysterious errands; he went to church
regularly, and appeared to take pleasure in the frequent calls of
Mr. Rook, the minister. The neighbors began to say that there never
was a more dutiful son or a more attentive and affectionate brother.
Some half suspected the reason of the reformation,--no one so quick as
Squire Clamp, who had reasons of his own, as the reader knows, for
wishing delay. After a few months had passed, he thought it would be
dangerous to let the schemes of the widow go on longer without
interruption, and accordingly prepared to make a step towards his own
long-cherished purpose.