When the key-note of some long-sought mystery has sounded, there is a strange fascination in going over and over the theme, now wondering why we had not been more struck by this or that fact, how we could have overlooked the importance of this incident or that coincidence. Trivial events come up to memory as missing links in the chain of proof, and small circumstances and chance words are brought up to fill the measure of complete conviction.

It was thus that this party of four sat almost till daybreak talking over the past. Each had some era to speak of as especially his own. Winthrop could tell of Godfrey Hawke when he came a young man to the States, and married his niece, the belle and the heiress of her native city. He remembered all the praises bestowed upon the young Englishman's manners and accomplishments, together with the graver forebodings of others, who had remarked his inordinate love of play and his indifference as to the company in which he indulged it. Next came the doctor, with his recollections of the man broken down by dissipation and excess, and at last dying of poison. There was but little, indeed, to recall the handsome Godfrey Hawke in the attenuated figure and distorted countenance of that miserable debauchee; but there were chance traits of manner that brought up the man to Winthrop's mind. There were also on the scene his beautiful wife, at that time in the fulness of her beauty. What a charm of gentleness, too, did she possess!—how meekly and patiently did she bear herself under provocations that seemed too great for human endurance! The doctor had to own that she actually forfeited some of his sympathy by the impression she gave him of being one deficient in a nice sense of self-esteem, and wanting in that element of resistance without which there is no real dignity of nature. “She seemed to me,” said he, “too craven, too abject by half,—one of those who are born to be the subject of a tyranny, and who, in their very submission, appear to court the wanton cruelty of an 'oppressor'. How rightly I read her!” cried he; “how truly I deciphered the inscription on her heart! and yet, I'll be sworn, no man living could have detected under that mask of gentleness this woman of long-pondering craft, this deeply designing plotter!”

“Quackinboss and I saw her under another aspect,” said Alfred. “She was depressed and sad, but only so much so as gave an added charm to the grace of her captivations, and made her every effort to please appear somewhat of a sacrifice of herself for those around her.”

“Well, ain't it strange, gentlemen,” said Quackinboss, “but it's a fact, she never deceived me? I remember the day of our visit at Marlia; after that adventure with the dog she fainted, and I took her up in my arms and carried her to the house. I thought, by course, she was insensible. Not a bit of it; she rallied enough to open her eyes, and give me one of the most wonderful looks ever I see in my life. It was just like saying, 'Shaver, are you quite certain that you have n't got in your arms one of the loveliest creatures as ever was formed? Are you sure, Shaver Quackinboss, that you are ever to have such another piece of luck as this?' And so certain was I that I heerd these very words in my ear, that I said aloud, 'Darn me pale blue if I don't wish the house was half a mile away!' And the words wasn't well out than she burst out a-laughin',—such a hearty, joyous laugh, too, that I knew in my heart she had neither pain nor ache, and was only a-foxin'. Well, gentlemen, we always had a way of lookin' at each other arter that was quite peculiar; it was sayin', 'Never fear, all's on honor here.' That was, at least, how I meant it, and I have a notion that she understood me as well. I have a strong notion that we understand these women critturs better than you Britishers!”

“You must leave me out of the category of the shrewd ones, however,” said Winthrop. “I saw her but once in my life, and yet I never came away from a visit with the same amount of favorable impression. She met me like an old friend, but at the same time there was a delicacy and reserve about her that seemed to say, 'It is for you to ratify this compact if you like. When you sign the treaty, it is finished.'”

From the discussion of the past they proceeded to the future, upon which all felt that Winthrop could speak with most authority, since he was Clara's kinsman and guardian.

“What do you mean to do by the gal, sir?” asked the Colonel.

“I intend to see her as soon as I can, give her the good news of her accession to fortune, and leave her to choose whether she will come back with me to the States, or would prefer that I should remain with her in Europe.”

“And ain't there any other alternative possible in the case, sir?” asked Quackinboss. “Does n't it strike you as just possible that she might say 'No' to each of these proposals, and fix another one for herself?”

“I don't quite understand you, Colonel,” said the other.

“I ain't a-goin' to talk riddles, sir. What I mean is, that the young woman may have other thoughts in her head than either of your plans; and now I 'll call upon my honor'ble friend, Mr. Alfred Layton, to address the House.”

Crimson with shame and confusion, young Layton turned an imploring look at Quackinboss; but the Colonel was indifferent to the appeal, and waved his hand as if bespeaking silence.

“It is rather for me to speak here,” said the doctor. “My son has to begin life with a large arrear of his father's faults to redeem. He has to restore to our name, by conduct and honorable bearing, the fair repute that once attached to it. Honest industry is the safe and sure road to this, and there is no other. He has promised to try and bring back to me in his name the suffrages of that university which I forfeited in mine. If he succeed, he will have made me proud of him.”

“I like that,” broke in Quackinboss. “Square it all first with them critturs in the college, and then think of a wife. Go at it, sir, and work like a nigger; there ain't nothing will give you such courage as the very fatigue of a hard day's work. When you lie down at night so dead beat that you could n't do more, you 'll feel that you 've earned your rest, and you 'll not lie awake with misgivin's and fancies, but you 'll sleep with a good conscience, and arise refreshed the next mornin'.”

“Alfred and I settled it all between us last night,” said the doctor. “There was but one point we could not arrange to our satisfaction. We are largely indebted to you—”

“Stop her!” cried the Colonel, as though he were giving the word from the paddle-box of a steamer,—“stop her! I ain't in a humor to be angry with any one. I feel as how, when the world goes so well as it has done lately with us all, that it would be main ungrateful to show a peevish or discontented spirit, and I don't believe that there 's a way to rile me but one,—jest one,—and you 've a-hit on 't. Yes, sir, you have!”

Quackinboss began his speech calmly enough, but before he finished it his voice assumed a hard and harsh tone very rare with him.

“Remember, my dear and true-hearted friend,” broke in Alfred, “that it's only of one debt we are eager to acquit ourselves. Of all that we owe you in affection and in gratitude, we are satisfied to stand in your books as long as we live.”

“I ain't a-goin' to square accounts,” said the Colonel; “but if I was, I know well that I'd stand with a long balance ag'in' me. Meat and drink, sir, is good things, but they ain't as good for a man as liberal thoughts, kind feelin's, and a generous trust in one's neighbor. Well, I 've picked up a little of all three from that young man there, and a smatterin' of other things besides that I 'd never have lamed when barking oak in the bush.”

Old Layton shook his head in dissent, and muttered,—

“You may cancel the bond, but we cannot forget the debt.”

“Let me arbitrate between you,” said Winthrop.

“Leave the question at rest till this day twelvemonth. Let each give his word not to approach it; and then time, that will have taught us many a thing in the mean while, will supply the best expedient.”

They gave their hands to each other in solemn pledge, and not a word was uttered, and the compact was ratified.

“We shall leave this for England to-night,” said the doctor.

“Not, surely, till you come as far as Milan first?” asked Winthrop.

“He's right,—he 's quite right!” said Quackinboss. “If a man has a Polar voyage afore him, it 's no way to harden his constitution by passin' a winter at Palermo. Ain't I right, sir?”

It was not difficult to see that Alfred Layton did not yield a very willing assent to this arrangement; but he stole away from the room unperceived, and carried his sorrow with him to his chamber. He had scarcely closed his door, however, when he heard Quackinboss's voice outside.

“I ain't a-comin' to disturb you,” said he, entering; “but I have a word or two to say, and, mayhap, can't find another time to say it. You 'll be wantin' a trifle or so to begin with before you can turn to earn something for yourself. You 'll find it there in that pocket-book,—look to it now, sir, I'll have no opposition,—it's the best investment ever I had. You 'll marry this girl; yes, there ain't a doubt about that, and mayhap, one of these days I 'll be a-comin to you to ask favorable terms for my cousin Obadiah B. Quackinboss, that's located down there in your own diggin's, and you 'll say, 'Well, Colonel, I ain't forgotten old times; we was thick as thieves once on a time, and so fix it all your own way.'”

Alfred could but squeeze the other's hand as he turned away, his heart too full for him to speak.

“I like your father, sir,” resumed Quackinboss; “he's a grand fellow, and if it war n't for some of his prejudices about the States, I 'd say I never met a finer man.”

Young Layton saw well how by this digression the American was adroitly endeavoring to draw the conversation into another direction, and one less pregnant with exciting emotions.

“Yes, sir, he ain't fair to us,” resumed the Colonel. “He forgets that we 're a new people, and jest as hard at work to build up our new civilization as our new cities.”

“There's one thing he never does, never can forget,—that the warmest, fastest friend his son ever met with in life came from your country.”

“Well, sir, if there be anything we Yankees are famed for, it is the beneficial employment of our spare capital. We don't sit down content with three-and-a-half or four per cent interest, like you Britishers, we look upon that as a downright waste; and it's jest the same with our feelin's as our dollars, though you of the old country don't think so. We can't afford to wait thirty, or five-and-thirty years for a friendship. We want lively sales, sir, and quick returns. We want to know if a man mean kindly by us afore we 've both of us got too old to care for it. That 's how I come to like you first, and I war n't so far out in thinkin' that I 'd made a good investment.”

Alfred could only smile good-humoredly at the speech, and the other went on,—

“You Britishers begin by givin' us Yankees certain national traits and habits, and you won't let us be anything but what you have already fashioned us in your own minds. But, arter all, I'd have you to remember we are far more like your people of a century back than you yourselves are. We ain't as mealy-mouthed and as p'lite and as smooth-tongued as the moderns. But if we 're plain of speech, we are simple of habit; and what you so often set down as rudeness in us ain't anything more than our wish to declare that we ain't in want of any one's help or assistance, but we are able to shift for ourselves, and are independent.”

Quackinboss arose, as he said this, with the air of a man who had discharged his conscience of a load. He had often smarted under what he felt to be the unfair appreciation of the old doctor for America, and he thought that by instilling sounder principles into his son's mind, the seed would one day or other produce good fruit.

From this he led Alfred to talk of his plans for the future. It was his father's earnest desire that he should seek collegiate honors in the university which had once repudiated himself. The old man did not altogether arraign the justice of the act, but he longed to see his name once more in a place of honor, and that the traditions of his own triumphs should be renewed in his son's.

“If I succeed,” said Alfred, “it will be time enough afterwards to say what next.”

“You'll marry that gal, sir, and come out to the States. I see it all as if I read it in a book.”

Alfred shook his head doubtfully, and was silent.

“Well, I 'm a-goin' to Milan with Harvey Winthrop; and when I see the country, as we say, I 'll tell you about the clearin'.”

“You'll write to me too?”

“That I will. It may be that she won't have outright forgotten me, and if so, she 'll be more friendly with me than an uncle she has never seen nor known about. I 'll soon find out if her head's turned by all this good luck, or if, as I hope, the fortune has fallen on one as deserved it. Mayhap she 'll be for goin' over to America at once; mayhap she 'll have a turn for doing it grand here, in Europe. Harvey Winthrop says she 'll have money enough to buy up one of these little German States, and be a princess if she likes; at all events you shall hear, and then in about a month hence look out for me some fine evening, for I tell you, sir, I've got so used to it now, that I can't get through the day without a talk with you; and though the doctor and I do have a bout now and then over the Yankees, I 'd like to see the man who 'd abuse America before him, and say one word against England in the face of Shaver Quackinboss.”