Oh, it was all so beautiful! so peaceful! so calm and holy!

Ralph tried to think, as he started on, whether there was anything that he could have, or see, or do, that would increase his happiness.

But there was nothing in the whole world now, nothing more, he said to himself, that he could think to ask for.

"Where loyal hearts and true, Stand ever in the light."

The words came faintly from the distance to his ears as the music died away, the gentle wind brought perfumed air from out the shadows of the night to touch his face. The quiet stars looked down in peace upon him, the heart that beat within his breast was full with hope, with happiness, with calm content.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE PURCHASE OF A LIE.

Lawyer Sharpman sat in his office on Sunday evening, meditating on his success in the Burnham suit and planning to avert the dangers that still lay in his path.

Old Simon's disclosures in court were a source of much anxiety to him.

Goodlaw's design in bringing them out was apparent, and he felt that it must in some way be thwarted. Of what use was it to establish the boy's ident.i.ty if he could not control the boy's fortune? He was glad he had asked Ralph to call. He intended, when he should come, to have a long talk with him concerning his guardian. He hoped to be able to work into the boy's mind a theory that he had been as well treated during his stay with Simon Craft as circ.u.mstances would permit. He would remind him, in the most persuasive manner possible, that Craft was old and ill and easily annoyed, that he was poor and unable to work, that his care for and maintenance of Ralph were deeds of the purest generosity, and that the old man's entire connection with the matter was very creditable to him, when all the adverse circ.u.mstances against which he had to struggle were taken into account. If he could impress this view of the case strongly enough upon Ralph's mind, he should not greatly fear the result of possible proceedings for the dismissal of the guardian. This, at any rate, was the first thing to be done, and to-night was the time to do it.

He had been lying back in his chair, with his hands locked behind his head. He now straightened himself, drew closer to the table, turned up the gas, looked over some notes of evidence, and began to mark out a plan for his address to the jury on the morrow. He was sitting in the inner room, the door between that and the outer room being open, but the street door closed.

After a little he heard some one enter and walk across the floor. He thought it must be Ralph, and he looked up to welcome him. But it was dark in the outer office, and he could not see who came, until his visitor was fairly standing in the door-way of his room.

It was not Ralph. It was a young man, a stranger. He wore a pair of light corduroy pantaloons, a checked vest, a double-breasted sack coat, and a flowing red cravat.

He bowed low and said:--

"Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Sharpman, attorney at law?"

"That is my name," said the lawyer, regarding his visitor with some curiosity, "will you walk in?"

"With pleasure, sir."

The young man entered the room, removed his high silk hat from his head, and laid it on the table, top down. Then he drew a card case from an inner pocket, and produced and handed to the lawyer a soiled card on which was printed in elaborate letters the following name and address:--

L. JOSEPH CHEEKERTON,

PHILADELPHIA.

"_Rhyming Joe_."

While Sharpman was examining the card, his visitor was forming in his mind a plan of procedure. He had come there with a carefully concocted lie on his tongue to swindle the sharpest lawyer in Scranton out of enough money to fill an empty purse.

"Will you be seated, Mr. Cheekerton?" said the lawyer, looking up from the card.

"Thank you, sir!"

The young man drew the chair indicated by Sharpman closer to the table, and settled himself comfortably into it.

"It is somewhat unusual, I presume," he said, "for attorneys to receive calls on Sunday evening:--

"But this motto I hold as a part of my creed, The better the day, why, the better the deed.

"Excuse me! Oh, no; it doesn't hurt. I've been composing extemporaneous verse like that for fifteen years. Philosophy and rhyme are my forte.

I've had some narrow escapes to be sure, but I've never been deserted by the muses. Now, as to my Sunday evening call. It seemed to be somewhat of a necessity, as I understand that the evidence will be closed in the Burnham case at the opening of court to-morrow. Am I right?"

"It may be, and it may not be," said Sharpman, somewhat curtly. "I am not acquainted with the plans of the defence. Are you interested in the case?"

"Indirectly, yes. You see, Craft and I have been friends for a good many years, we have exchanged confidences, and have matured plans together. I am pretty well acquainted with the history of his successes and his failures."

"Then it will please you to know that he is pretty certain to meet with success in the Burnham suit."

"Yes? I am quite delighted to hear it:--

"Glad to know that wit and pluck Bring their owner such good-luck.

"But, between you and me, the old gentleman has brought some faculties to bear on this case besides wit and pluck."

"Ah, indeed?"

"Yes, indeed! You see, I knew all about this matter up to the time the boy ran away. To tell the truth, the old man didn't treat the lad just right, and I gave the little fellow a pointer on getting off. Old Simon hasn't been so friendly to me since, for some reason.

"Strange what trifles oft will tend To cool the friendship of a friend.

"In fact, I was not aware that the boy had been found, until I heard that fact from his own lips one day last fall, in Wilkesbarre. We met by a happy chance, and I entertained him on account of old acquaintance's sake."

In a moment the story of Ralph's adventure in Wilkesbarre returned to Sharpman, and he recognized Rhyming Joe as the person who had swindled the lad out of his money. He looked at the young man sternly, and said:--

"Yes; I have heard the story of that chance meeting. You were very liberal on account of old acquaintance's sake, were you not?

entertained the boy till his pocket was empty, didn't you?" and the lawyer cast a look of withering contempt on his visitor.

But Rhyming Joe did not wither. On the contrary, he broke into a merry fit of laughter.

"Good joke on the lad, wasn't it?" he replied. "A little rough, perhaps, but you see I was pretty hard up just then; hadn't had a square meal before in two days. I'll not forget the boy's generosity, though; I'll call and see him when he comes into his fortune; he'll be delighted to receive me, I've no doubt.

"For a trifle like that he'll remember no more, In the calm contemplation of favors of yore."

But, let that pa.s.s. That's a pretty shrewd scheme Old Simon has on foot just now, isn't it? Did he get that up alone or did he have a little legal advice? I wouldn't have said that he was quite up to it all, himself. It's a big thing.

"A man may work hard with his hands and his feet And find but poor lodging and little to eat.

But if he would gather the princeliest gains He must smother his conscience and cudgel his brains."

Sharpman looked sternly across at his visitor. "Have you any business with me?" he said; "if not, my time is very valuable, and I desire to utilize it."

"I beg pardon, sir, if I have occupied time that is precious to you.

I had no particular object in calling except to gratify a slight curiosity. I had a desire to know whether it was really understood between you--that is whether the old man had enlightened you as to who this boy actually is--that's all."