Chapter 29

THE LOVERS' MISUNDERSTANDING MADE UP--MOSES KEEPS HIS SECRET.

On the evening after his arrival in the city Phillip Lawson found his way to "Sunnybank." As he stood on the vestibule his thoughts reverted to the missing paper.

"It was so important; and now that I could have more hope than before."

It must not be presumed that the young man exulted over the reported insolvency. He fervently prayed that Marguerite Verne should have moral courage to bear up under the pressure of circumstances that must necessarily follow, but he hoped that a life of usefulness would be more acceptable than that of luxury hitherto enjoyed.

"If it were only in my power to pay off every farthing of those enormous debts gladly I would do it for her sake though she might never know who was her benefactor."

Such were the tenor of Mr. Lawson's thoughts as he advanced towards Mr. Verne and received a hearty welcome--almost an ovation.

"Mr. Lawson, you cannot imagine how much I missed you, else you surely could not have stayed so long!" exclaimed the host springing from his chair like a boy of sixteen.

"Only five days in all, sir, since I was here."

"Five days!" cried Mr. Verne drawing his hand across his furrowed forehead as if to gain clearer perception, "five days! dear me, it seems like five months--five months."

Mr. Verne seemed for a moment or so to have forgotten that he had a guest for he was lost in thought. Presently his mind cleared.

"How did you leave all at 'Gladswood.' In fact I forgot that you were there."

Mr. Lawson then gave a brief description of the days spent at the farmhouse and was pleased to note the very great interest with which Mr. Verne listened.

The solicitor was puzzled. He expected to find his friend in a state of deep dejection, but instead he was more cheerful than usual, and seemed to be exulting over some secret or newly-found joy.

"He may be rejoicing in the thought that his child is soon to be in a position which his reverses cannot affect."

Phillip Lawson had no sooner uttered these words in an undertone, than a deep chill seemed to paralyze his muscular frame.

"Just as if that should be of import to a poor beggar like me, who has no more than can keep the wolf from the door."

Strictly speaking the last remark was somewhat hyperbolical, for as we have hitherto been informed the young solicitor's professional emoluments were now anything but scanty, but it was in the bitterness of spirit that he made use of the words.

"Have you heard from Mrs. and Miss Verne, sir."

"There, I would have forgotten! It seems to me I am getting old fast--nothing tells on a man like that," said Mr. Verne, smiling and drawing from the pigeon-hole of a small desk a neatly-folded letter.

"My little girl refers to you--listen to this"--and the fond father read a portion of the letter, in which she referred to the young lawyer, and begged that her father would convey her thanks for the very great thoughtfulness of Mr. Lawson in trying to cheer him in her absence and filling up the vacant place beside him.

"Tell him, dear papa, I shall never forget him for it--never."

Mr. Verne was deeply affected as he read the last sentence; also was his visitor.

"My Marguerite, she cares yet for her doting father. Yes, Mr. Lawson, my child worships those who are kind to me."

"You can never fully express Miss Verne's worth, sir. I am only too happy to do anything that would secure her good wishes, for coming, as they do from one so good, they most certainly result in good."

"The man is honest," thought Phillip Lawson; "he does not wish me to think that his daughter has any other feeling than that of gratitude, and I honor him for it."

The young man glanced around the elegant parlor with its glittering furniture and costly _vertu_, and felt sad at the thought of the great change that was in store for the delicate girl who had been reared in the lap of luxury. He wished to refer to business, but Mr. Verne evaded him at every turn, and when he rose to go, felt somewhat uneasy and disappointed.

"There is something astir," thought Phillip, as he passed down Mecklenburg street and turned up Carmarthen, on his way home. "There is something in the wind. I can already feel it in my bones," exclaimed the young man, striding along with a rate of velocity equal to that of his thoughts.

A sudden fancy seized him. Quick as lightning it darted through every nerve and electrified him with pain.

"It must be so! Fool that I was not to see it before. Tracy has proposed in the nick of time. He has had an accomplice whom it is easy to guess. It's all up with me now, and she can send kind wishes without a feeling of restraint"

Phillip Lawson was indeed sore at heart. He reasoned long and argued the ease to the best of his ability; but love is one thing and law is another--the two abstracts cannot coincide any more than can a parallelogram coincide with an equilateral triangle. "But must I stand calmly by and make no effort to save her from such a fate. Merciful heavens! There's no clue for me to prove what I had already known. Why was I so unfortunate. Surely heaven will not suffer Hubert Tracy to accomplish his designs. I wish him no bodily harm, but I trust that he may yet atone for his deeds, and live to see the error of his ways."

By the time the solicitor reached his home he was calm and collected.

"Brother Phillip," was the first exclamation he heard; "look, are not these beautiful. Josie Jordan brought them this afternoon. She kept me laughing nearly all the time she was here telling about the fun she had at 'Gladswood'."

"Ah! the ferns are from Jennie Montgomery, I presume," said the brother, giving them a second glance of admiration.

"Yes, and the sweetest little letter you ever saw beside. Isn't she lovely, Brother Phillip?"

The _petite_ little maiden had now nestled closely in her brother's arms; her flaxen curls showered around her in sad disorder, while one plump little arm was entwined around his neck.

"You must be dreaming, Brother Phillip. Why, you never heard my question."

"I beg your pardon, little one, for this time. Miss Jennie is all that you think her to be," replied the brother, somewhat gravely.

"Do you know what I was thinking of, you dear old brother," said Lottie, emphasizing the speech with an affectionate hugging. "I was thinking of all the nice young ladies you are acquainted with, and wondering which one I would like you to marry."

"What put such notions into your head, you silly child. Have I not a little wife already. But let me hear the rest of it."

Phillip Lawson indulged his pet sister in all her pastimes, and was now an attentive listener to her proposals.

"You know, Brother Phillip, there is Miss Verne--."

"Yes--go on," said the brother in a quick, nervous manner.

"And there's Jennie Montgomery and Louise Rutherford and Miss Rushton and Josie Jordan, and--"

"I think you have got enough now to decide from."

"Well," continued Lottie, not appearing to notice the interruption. "There is Miss Marguerite. I love her dearly. I feel like kissing her picture every time I see it--well she is an angel, Brother Phillip, and sometimes I think she is too good to marry anyone."

"A compliment to the sterner sex," remarked Phillip, in an undertone, then he exclaimed, "Child, where did you get such ideas?"

"Oh, I hear the girls in school nearly every day, and yesterday Belle Morris asked me if I would like you to get married."

"I think the young ladies might find more profitable employment during study hours."

"Oh, we don't talk only at recess. Now please don't be angry, Brother Phillip, for I never said anything."

"Thank you little Miss Discretion. I am very glad that you do not indulge in gossip. Listen to what Solomon says," and going to the book-case Phillip took therefrom a Bible, and read from Proverbs