CHAPTER I.

CLAYTON TORREY AND GEORGE DALZELL.

The following narrative reaches back into the latter part of the eighteenth century.

There was two cousins, orphan boys, brought up and educated together by the same grandfather;-in all respects reared as brothers. These two were George Dalzell and Edward Torrey. In character and disposition they were very unlike the one being hardy, bold and reckless; the other, mild, gentle, somewhat effeminate, perhaps, and dependent. They grew up to manhood;-after which there was but little intercouse between them, as they resided at a considerable distance apart.

Edward Torrey died while yet in the prime of life, leaving an infant sonmotherless from his birth-to the care and guardianship of his cousin.

This little boy was called Clayton in honor of his grandfather.

Mr. Dalzell, too, had a son, whom he called by his own name-George, very nearly of the same age with little Clayton Torrey. He had lost his wife, and an only daughter not long before the death of Mr. Torrey. Though bold and venturous in disposition, and somewhat pompous and pretentious in manner, Mr. Dalzell was usually regarded as a keen, shrewd man. Far from being under the

guidance of religious principles, he was a man of loose morals;-a fact which, especially after the death of his wife, he was at little pains to conceal. But we shall speak of him more particularly hereafter.

The two boys, Clayton Torrey and George Dalzell grew up under his roof, without having much attention paid to them one way or another. At the proper time as he thought, they were sent to school and at a more advanced age to college. He sometimes said that he believed every boy should be left to scuffle for himself and make his own way in the world. He, however, by no means stinted his son or ward, for from the time when they were first sent to school, he allowed to each a liberal supply of money.

Mr. Dalzell's son resembled his father both in qualities of mind and person. Clayton Torrey was of a romantic cast, and inherited much of the gentleness of character and disposition for which his paternal parent had been remarkable. He was amiable and kind. He was at the same time full of generous impulse and yielding:-preferring to endure trouble and suffering himself, rather than inflict it on another: tender in his feelings as a woman; and sensitive to a fault, These were the traits which his boyhood exhibited.

Young Dalzell and Clayton Torrey

were nearly of the same age: nevertheless, at school they belonged to entirely different sets; George joining himself, from the first, with the older and larger boys; and indeed taking the lead even among them, in many of their sports, especially in all mischievous pranks: while Torrey, for the most part, associated with those smaller than himself; with which class his gentleness, his generosity and and amiability made him an especial favorite.

At college they were yet more diverse in their choice of friends.

Torrey here met with a maternal cousin of his, named Edward Landon, whom he had seen only once or twice before in his life-and with whom he was scarcely at all acquainted. Landon and he, however, were class-mates now,-saw much of each other, and on account of their relationship, or because there was a natural congruity in their tastes and dispositions soon grew very intimate,-roomed and slept together and at length became almost inseparable.

Young Landon was in most respects superior to his cousin. He had been reared under the genial influence of a polished home-circle. He had a fond father and a devoted mother whom he loved and reverenced with all his heart, and sisters whom he almost idolized :and in coming to college he had left a home where elegance and refinement lent a yet more exquisite charm to the endearing emotions which home and loving relations inspire. He was himself a fine, noble fellow; a gentleman in all his actions:--and in every thought, word, and feeling. He became very much attached to his cousin Clayton. He found him snch a different personage from what he had been led to expect in Mr. Dalzell's ward. The Landons had not much re ́spect for Mr. Dalzell: and hence the fact that these cousins had thus met at college as almost strangers to each other.

Torrey was not a little improved by his intimacy with Edward Landon. He fully reciprocated his partiality,-loving and admiring him exceedingly. The two were, each tinged with a romantic-or perhaps it would be more correct to say—

a poetic coloring of character-though of the two, Landon's mind was the bolder and more manly in its tone.

Torrey had another very intimate college friend and associate. This was a young gentleman named Estin,—a youth of amiable prospects, highly respectable attainments and fine qualities. The three, Landon, Estin, and Torrey were sworn friends. They were constantly together during the continuance of their collegiate career. Their vacations were, for the most part, spent in making pedestrian excursions over the country; Mr. Dalzell taking no account of his ward's movements and associations.

Between Torrey's two friends and George Dalzell, there were no communications beyond a cold nod of recognition when they chanced to meet. Dalzell was here, as he had been at school, a sort of leader among his chosen companions. These were youths of altogether a different stamp from those with whom Torrey associated. Nevertheless, although thus dissevered in their companionship and friendly associations, Dalzell still retained a certain degree of influence over his father's ward;-an influence acquired in childhood, and never yet overcome.

Indeed, Dalzell was one well-fitted to gain an ascendency over those with whom he might be thrown. His intellect was strong and commanding: and he was recklessly bold. He seized at once upon the bearings of any case which was presented to him with a confident grasp. He was rapid in calculation--but as cool as rapid. He was acute in discerning; quick and ready in inventing and combining: prompt and firm in decision and in action. There was in his manner, too, an air of frank carelessness, which served very well to cover his deficiencies. For George Dalzell was really deficient, and in essential particulars. He was devoid of moral principle; wanting in truth and sincerity. He was false-hearted, and thoroughly selfish. Yet by his fellows he was, perhaps, the first to be trusted of all their acquaintances;—the last who would have been charged with selfishness. What might have been made of such an one by proper and judicious training, and

by the influence of correct moral example from early childhood, it is impossible to conjecture. Educated as he was, however, George Dalzell was a dangerous character, one fitted to work out evil for himself; and evil for those with whom he might come in contact.

Both he and Torrey at length returned home, their college life having ended. Mr. Dalzell advised George at once to betake himself to the study of law, and charged him that he should study closely. For Clayton, he said, that he had no need to trouble himself about such matters, any farther than his ambitious aspirations might lead him; but George had his way to work in the world, and the sooner he was at it the better. His father's choice coincided with George's inclination as to his profession, for he had previously determined to study law. Clayton had not decided, as yet, as to what he would do. As for aspirations, he had indistinct dreams, it is true, of achieving greatness at some time or other, by some means: he thought that, perhaps, he had a talent for poetry: but in the sense of the word in which Mr. Dalzell used it, he had no aspirations whatever. He would take time to consider. Arrangements were made that at the commencement of the next year, George Dalzell should go to reside with, and read law under the superintendence and directions of a distinguished member of the bar, an old school-mate of his father, who dwelt at some distance, in another county. In the meantime, he set in assiduously to the perusal of Blackstone's Commentaries. Clayton Torrey with almost equal diligence, entered upon a course of general reading. Further than this, it is needless to speak of their studies or occupations at this time, as they have nothing to do with our narrative.

CHAPTER II.

SUBORDINATE CHARACTERS.

The person whom we must now introduce was in many respects a singular be

ing. John Winthrop was like him of Nain, whom the Saviour raised from the dead, in that he was the only son of his mother; and she was a widow.

"Johnny was as pretty and smart a child as ever was-but ah! the sickness! the sickness!"-old Mrs. Winthrop would say, sorrowfully: and she would shake her head and sigh.

As it was, most persons spoke of her son as "not right!" with an inclination of the forefinger to the head: and his manhood certainly retained no traces of his early beauty. But really, whatever his neighbors might think, or say, John Winthrop was no fool. He could read, and write; knew the value of money very well; was indeed, very close in his dealings where this medium was concerned. He could do what he chose to do; the difficulty was that he chose to do that which was of very little worth or profit. Sometimes, when in a good humor, he would go upon errands, or render such like light services, which cost him little trouble, and chanced to suit his mood. But for work, John would none of it. Nor was he to be trusted as a carrier of errands; for if upon his way, some other fancy struck him, his errand was at once forgotten, or neglected, however important it might be. He was always treated as a poor unfortunate; which indeed he was. An attack of measles in childhood had blighted John's life; or as his mother declared, "The sickness had changed her poor Johnny!"

He had occasionally dark moods or fits, during which for days together, he would talk wildly and at random; would sometimes be cross and surly; at other times, would fall into the deepest gloom, speak not a word; or would complain pitoously of being "so unhappy!"

For the most part he spent his time roaming about, and in one way or another, took a great deal of exercise; for when awake, he was scarcely ever at rest. He was a very excellent marksman; and a most successful trapper of game. He grew up to be a tall, gaunt man, excessively homely, excessively uncouth in appearance; yet with remarkable strength

of limb, and with powers of endurance which are rarely equalled.

When John was twenty-five or thereabout, there came a little neice to reside with his mother; who was called Biddy Marston. She was a pretty child of about nine years of age, whose bright, laughing eye and dimpled, rosy cheeks seemed to belie her circumstances; for she was poor and an orphan.

At first, and indeed for a good while, John Winthrop did not like the little girl. But as the months passed on, and he became accustomed to her, he began to grow quite fond of her. In course of time he found amusement in making and arranging her playthings; in taking her with him out into the fields and woods; in gathering wild flowers, nuts, and berries for her. She would sit in his lap; would fondle about him; ask all manner of questions of him, which he would answer or not as suited him. In short, she became his constant companion.

Warped and knotted as nature or disease had formed him, this child gradually won for herself a place in poor John's heart; and as she grew up under his eye, and he felt more and more a sort of property in her, she became dearer to him than aught else in the world. It is true that they would sometimes have their quarrels, and she would worry him no little: for she very soon became aware of her power over him, and would pretend, now and then, to be very hard to be appeased. But all this only made him love her more: and when, as she often did, she would twine a wreath of wild flowers of his gathering about her brow, and call upon him for his admiration, John Winthrop would gaze upon her with satisfied delight; administering freely the praise she loved so well: for at such times, if he did not always, he would think her, verily, the loveliest being on whom the light of heaven ever shone.

It was thus that John Winthrop would flatter her vanity, for it cannot be denied that little Biddy was vain of her good looks; and when she grew older, and became the belle of the country-side, he would laugh about her rustic beaux; would mimic them, or attempt to mimic them

for very odd and ludicrous indeed were his efforts at imitation; and he would vow that none of them should have her, that no one, save the very cleverest in all the land need hope to steal his "Birdie," as he called her, from him. Sometimes he would build air-castles with her, and tell her that when she was married, she should still be cousin Johnnie's Birdie; that he would still gather wild-flowers to twine in her hair; and that "the cleverest lad in all the land" should be taught to love cousin John as well as she did.

All this was in his happy hours. In his gloomy seasons, Biddy would nurse him very tenderly, taking no notice of his surliness; and comforting him when he was sad. Indeed Biddy was quite necessary to John Winthrop. And she was greatly indebted to him; for he loved her as a sister—and he taught her all which he himself knew; and owing to his kindness in this, she was-for the time at which she lived—very well educated for a girl in her condition in life.

Biddy Marston was a pretty girl. Every body said so. And the rustic beauty's fame was spread far and near for many miles around. But she was, in spite of John's instructions, a vain, foolish giddy-brained poor girl; and though her aunt did her best for her, and loved her as if she was her own child, and though she for the most part kept her busily employed, as was right and proper, seeing they were poor; Biddy, herself, poor Biddy! cared for little else besides her own good looks, her fine clothes, and beaux. She nevertheless, felt herselfthough she loved their admiration, and by many little arts encouraged it-much above the rude beaux of her own class; while in many respects she, herself, was wholly unfitted to become the wife of one belonging to a higher class. Biddy Marston was one of those whom it is difficult to decide whether they are more to be pitied, or to be blamed.

Among Biddy's admirers there was a youth of the neighborhood-a young carpenter an honest, industrious lad, of good promise; whom she herself liked best of all her beaux, and whom the wise in such matters pitched upon as her fu