Harry’s disappearance inflicted a blow upon Mrs. Raymond from which she did not easily recover. Coming so soon after her husband’s sudden death, she felt that her life had indeed become desolate, and but that she knew her life was necessary to little Katy, she would not have cared to live. But for Katy’s sake she tried to bear up as well as she could against her double loss.

Besides, so far as Harry was concerned, she was not without hope that he might some day return. He might be dead; but of this there was no proof. Mrs. Raymond clung to the hope that, whatever might be the cause of his absence, it was not occasioned by death. But, in spite of this hope, it was hard to have day after day pass without any intelligence. The home seemed very lonely and sad now. Even little Katy, naturally a lively child, was subdued and more sober than she used to be.

But Mrs. Raymond had another cause for anxiety, and that a serious one. During her husband’s life she had always lived in comfort, and never felt any anxiety about the future. But now whatever money was to be earned for the support of the little household must be earned by herself, for of course Katy was too young to earn anything, and must for some years be kept at school. How to earn money enough to meet their expenses was a difficult problem. She could think of no other way except sewing, and that, even under the best circumstances, as my readers very well know, is very poorly paid.

Squire Turner occasionally called on Mrs. Raymond, feeling that it was for his interest to assume the role of a disinterested friend. One evening, about six weeks after Harry’s disappearance, he took his cane and walked over to the little cottage. The widow had come to look forward with interest to his visits, feeling in her position the need of a friend. She welcomed him, accordingly, with an evident pleasure, which he did not fail to notice.

“I hope you are well, Mrs. Raymond,” he said, removing his hat, and taking the chair which the widow brought forward.

“I am well in health, Squire Turner,” was the reply, “but, I am very unhappy. I sometimes feel as if my sorrows are greater than I can bear.”

“You have Katy left.”

“Yes, Katy is a dear little girl. But for her I should not care to live. But for her and the hope that Harry may come back some time—”

“While there is life there is hope,” said the squire. “I mean while we are not certain of death, there is ground for hope.”

“Don’t you really think he will come back some time, Squire Turner?”

“Certainly, there is a chance of it,” said the squire, cautiously; “but it is not well to be too sanguine, for you know we cannot be sure of anything.”

“If there was anything I could do,” replied the widow; “but I can only wait, and the suspense is very wearing.”

“Of course, I quite feel for you. Depend upon it, I shall do what I can to relieve your anxiety whenever I see clearly what to do. You give me credit for that?”

“Yes, Squire Turner, I know you are a true friend. The time was when I did you injustice; but I see more clearly now.”

If Squire Turner had had any sense of shame he would have blushed at this testimony from the woman whom he had done so much to injure; but his feelings were not very keen, and he only listened with complacency, perceiving that he had made good progress in securing the widow’s confidence. All his plans seemed to be working well thus far. He was now ready to take the next step, and this was to get Mrs. Raymond into his power by placing her under pecuniary obligations.

“I hope you will excuse me one question which I am about to ask,” he said, “and believe that it is dictated, not by idle curiosity, but my interest in your welfare. Do you not feel considerable difficulty in earning enough money to defray your expenses?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Raymond, “that is one of my troubles. Katy and I have few wants; but I find it costs a good deal for food, and fuel, and clothes.”

“Of course.”

“Especially as I have no way of earning except by the needle. Sewing is very poorly paid.”

“That is quite true. By the way, Mrs. Raymond, I shall be glad to give you all the work I have in that line, and to pay you a fair price for doing it.”

“Thank you, Squire Turner. It will be a favor to me.”

“And if you find you can’t meet your expenses, don’t hesitate at any time to apply to me for a loan.”

“You are very kind, Squire Turner, but I don’t like to borrow money.”

“I can understand your feelings about it; but you need not feel any delicacy.”

“I am afraid I should never be able to repay the money.”

“As to that, I can show you a way that will relieve your feeling.”

“What’s that?”

“You are aware that this house belongs to you, with the exception of a mortgage of four hundred dollars, which I hold. Now it is probably worth over a thousand dollars,” he answered, courteously.

“Mr. Raymond considered it worth, with the land, twelve hundred dollars.”

“Ahem!” said the squire, who had his reasons for underrating the property; “it was probably worth that to him, but I don’t think it would fetch much over a thousand, if it were brought to a sale. However, that is not to the purpose. I only mentioned it to suggest that the property might serve as ample security for any sum you might wish to borrow, so that you need not feel delicate about any loans you might be forced to ask.”

“That is true,” said Mrs. Raymond. “I did not think of that.”

“Have you a supply of money on hand at present?” asked the squire.

Mrs. Raymond was forced to acknowledge that she had less than a dollar in the house.

“I thought it might be so,” he said, “and therefore I came provided. You had better let me lend you fifty dollars.”

After some hesitation Mrs. Raymond consented to take the money.

“If you will let me have a sheet of paper I will draw up a note, which you can sign,” said the squire, smoothly. “I know that it will be more agreeable to your feelings to regard the loan as a business transaction rather than as a favor.”

How could Mrs. Raymond feel otherwise than grateful to the man who entered so delicately into her feelings? She unhesitatingly acquiesced in what he proposed, and brought forward writing materials, with which Squire Turner drew up a note of hand, which Mrs. Raymond signed. He then drew from his pocket-book ten five-dollar bills, which he handed to the widow, depositing the note in his wallet.

“There,” said he, pleasantly, “our business is at an end, and now we can talk as friends. I believe James is wanting some shirts. Shall you have leisure to make them?”

“I shall be very glad to do so.”

“Then may I trouble you to buy the necessary materials?—you will be a better judge than I on that point. He will bring over one of his shirts as a pattern, and you may make them up at your leisure, and send in a bill for work and materials together.”

Of course Mrs. Raymond was only too glad to accept this commission, and readily agreed to do as requested.

Squire Turner continued, as he had begun, to act as a sympathizing friend of Mrs. Raymond. From time to time he supplied her with money as she required it, in each case, however, taking her note for the amount, and, when the sum was sufficient to warrant it, securing it by an additional mortgage upon the property. When he proposed this, it was ostensibly to spare the feelings of the widow, and prevent her from feeling any delicacy or sense of pecuniary obligations.

“You see, Mrs. Raymond,” he said, smoothly, “you have no cause to feel grateful to me. Every pecuniary transaction between us is upon a strict business basis. I know you would prefer that it should be so.”

“I know that you are very kind, Squire Turner, and I can’t help feeling grateful, though you tell me there is no occasion for my being so.”

This is what Mrs. Raymond said, and she felt that Squire Turner was indeed a very disinterested friend, though it would be hard to show in what respect he had been so.

Meanwhile, Squire Turner had kept in constant correspondence with Mr. Robinson, the Milwaukie lawyer, touching the land grant already referred to, and it became necessary for him to obtain Mrs. Raymond’s authority to act for her in the matter. It was important for him to do this, without leading her to suspect that it was a matter of much moment. One evening he introduced the subject as if casually:—

“By the way, Mrs. Raymond, your son Harry placed in my hands some time since a land warrant belonging to your late father, with the request that I would ascertain whether it was worth anything.”

“I remember it now that you mention it, Squire Turner,” said the widow. “I suppose it is worthless.”

“No,” said the squire, candidly. “I think you may get a little something for it. I suppose fifty or a hundred dollars would be acceptable.”

“It would be more than I ever expected to realize from it. Do you really think it is likely to amount to as much as that?”

“I really do,—that is, I hope so. If you are content to give me authority to act for you, I will do the best I can, and, of course, I shall charge you nothing for my services.”

“How kind you are, Squire Turner! I will sign anything you think best.”

“I have brought a paper properly drawn up, empowering me to act for you,” said the squire. “I will see that you have no trouble in the matter.”

Here he produced the paper, and Mrs. Raymond unhesitatingly affixed her signature.

“I am sure,” she said, “I never expected, after so many years, that the warrant would ever amount to anything.”

“It may not, but I think it will. I will do my best for you. In fact, I shall be obliged to go West next week on some other business, and will take Milwaukie on my way. I never was there, and, apart from your business, I shall enjoy seeing the city.”

Was it surprising that Mrs. Raymond considered Squire Turner a very disinterested friend? She felt sure that he was putting himself to considerable trouble and some expense to promote her interests. As to that, it was certainly true that Squire Turner’s sole motive, in making the western journey on which he had determined, was connected with Mrs. Raymond’s land warrant.

What success he met with will be told in the following chapter.