"Why, look here, Mr Maxwell. Just let me tell you all about it." And the old man, with perfect fairness and sufficient clearness, went into all particulars as to the state of Mr Fleming's affairs at the time of his son's death, and of Jacob's claims upon him. His real respect and friendship for the old man was evident in all he said, and when he lamented that his old friend's unreasonableness should make a settlement of his affairs so difficult, and should make unpleasant talk and hard feelings in the community, Mr Maxwell could not but spare his regret.

"Why, look here, Mr Maxwell. There hasn't been a cent paid on the princ.i.p.al yet, and not all the interest, though it is years ago now, and some of that has been borrowed money. And there is little prospect of its being any different for years to come. If it had been almost any one else but Jacob, he'd have foreclosed long ago, and I don't know but he had better when the right time comes."

It was on Mr Maxwell's lips to express a.s.sent to this, when a glance at the face of Miss Elizabeth arrested his words. It wore a look which he had sometimes seen on it when she wished to turn her father's thoughts away from a subject which was becoming painful to him. There was anxiety, even pain in her face as well, on this occasion, and these deepened as her father went on.

"Only the other day Jacob was talking to me about it. 'Father,' says he, 'why can't you just say a word to the old man about letting me have a piece of his land on the river, and settle matters all up. He'll hear you,' says he. 'I don't want to make hard feelings in the church, or anywhere else,' says he. 'It's as much for the old man's interest to have his affairs all straightened out, as it is for me, and more. There need be no trouble about it, if he'd only listen to reason.' I expect I shall have to have a talk with Mr Fleming about it some time," added the old man gravely. "Or you might speak, Mr Maxwell. He would listen to you."

"Only, father, it would be as well to wait till the old gentleman is quite well and strong again," said Elizabeth, rising and folding up her work, and moving about as if to prevent the chance of more talk.

"Well, I guess so, and then I don't suppose it would amount to much anything I could say to him. I wouldn't like to say anything to vex or worry him. He has had a deal of trouble one way and another, since he came to the place, and it has kind of soured him, but he is always as sweet as milk to me. You aren't going away, are you, Mr Maxwell?

There, I have tired you all out with my talk, and I've tired myself too.

But don't you hurry away. I'll go and step round a little to get the fresh air, and then I'll lie down a spell, and rest. And, Lizzie, you find 'The Puritan' for Mr Maxwell, and he can take a look at that in the meantime."

Elizabeth did as she was bidden, and managed to make the minister understand, without saying so, that she would like him not to go away.

So he sat down to the doubtful enjoyment of the paper while Elizabeth followed her father from the room.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

TAKING COUNSEL.

It was one of those soft, bright days of early March that might beguile a new-comer to the country into a temporary belief that spring had come at last, and Elizabeth, tying her "cloud" over her head, followed her father out into the yard. To take a walk just for the sake of the walk was not likely to suit old Mr Holt, or to do him much good. But he and Elizabeth went about here and there, in the yard and up and down the well-swept walk from the gate to the door, where the snow lay still on either side as high as the squire's shoulder, and Elizabeth talked to him about the great wood-pile, and praised the industry and energy of Nathan Pell, the hired man, and of his team, d.i.c.k and Doll, that were making it longer every day. She spoke of the great drifts that must be cleared away before the thaw came, of the bough which last night's wind had brought down from the elm in the corner, of the broken bit of fence beyond the gate, of anything to lead his thoughts away from the theme which for the last hour had occupied and excited him.

She succeeded so well, that he went away by himself, to get a hammer and nails to mend the broken paling, and Elizabeth, leaning over the little white gate while she waited for him to return, had an unexpected pleasure--a little chat with Mrs Jacob. It was not the chat which gave her the pleasure, it was her own thought that amused her, and the knowledge of her sister-in-law's thoughts as well.

She knew that though Mrs Jacob declined to come in now at her invitation, she had come up the street with the full design of doing so, and she knew that she was saying to herself that Mr Maxwell could not be in the house, though Jacob had seen him going that way, or Lizzie would never be standing so long at the gate, looking down the street.

"I am waiting for father," said Elizabeth; "he has gone in for the hammer to drive some nails in the fence. I suppose Nathan must have driven against it last night in the dark." She was hoping that Mr Maxwell was enjoying "The Puritan" so well that he would not be tempted to look out of the window so as to be seen.

"Here is father; he will be glad to see you; it is a long time since you were here. Won't you change your mind and come in?"

"Well, no, not to-day. I am going in to see Miss Ball a minute about my bonnet, and I ought to hurry home."

Mrs Jacob knew that she would have to answer many questions about Jacob and the children. Probably the squire had seen them all to-day already, and would see them all again before the day was over.

"I think I'll go, and not hinder him about the fence, since he doesn't know I am here. Why don't you come up sometimes? Well, good-bye; I guess I'll go."

"Good-bye," said Elizabeth. "And now when she finds out that Mr Maxwell was here all the time, though I was standing at the gate, she will make herself and Jacob, too, believe that I am a deceitful girl; though why I should tell her, since she did not ask, I do not quite see."

She took the nail-box from her father's hand and followed him out of the gate, giving him each nail as he wanted it, making suggestions and praising his work as one might do with a child. It was soon finished to the old man's satisfaction, and by that time his excitement and his troubled thoughts were gone, and he was ready for his afternoon's rest.

"You have something to say to me, Miss Holt," said the minister, when she came again into the sitting-room.

"No--I am not sure that I have, though a little ago I thought I had."

"But, Miss Holt, I am almost sure you must have something to say," said Mr Maxwell, after a pause. "I have sometimes found that I have got a clearer view of vexed questions in village politics, and even in church matters, where there are no vexations as yet, after a little talk with you, than after many and long talks with other people."

Elizabeth laughed.

"Thank you. The reason is, that all the rest are on one side or the other of all vexed questions, and not being specially concerned in them, at least not personally concerned in them, I can see all sides: and usually there is little to see that might not as well be ignored."

"Well, does not that hold good in this case also?"

"But in this case I may be supposed to take a side."

The minister smiled.

"But not so as to prevent you from seeing clearly all sides. You are not going to tire of the task of keeping me right in village matters?"

Even when the sunshine is bright above the March air is keen and cold, and so Elizabeth, chilled with lingering so long at the gate, leaned toward the open fire, shading her face with her hand. She was silent for some time, thinking of several things.

"At least tell me that in this case, also, there is little to see, or I shall begin to fear that your father may be right when he says there may be danger of trouble arising out of this matter to us all."

"No. There need be no trouble, if people would only not talk," said Elizabeth, raising her head and turning so as to look at the minister.

"I will tell you what I was thinking about before I went out; I was sorry that my father had spoken to you about Mr Fleming's affairs, or that he should have suggested the idea of your speaking to the old man about them; I wanted you not to promise to speak--I mean I do not think it would do any good were you to do so."

"Well, I did not promise."

"No; and I think my father may forget that he has spoken to you about it; he forgets many things now. And if you would forget all about it too, it would be all the better."

"I will be silent, and that will answer every purpose of forgetfulness, or ignorance, will it not?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not quite; and since I have said so much, I ought to say a little more. I can see all sides of this matter with sufficient clearness to be aware that trouble to a good many people, or at least discomfort and annoyance, might easily spring out of it. As to the church, I am not sure. But if everybody would keep silence, there need be no trouble. And to tell the truth, Mr Maxwell, I was not thinking of Mr Fleming or of Jacob, or of what my father was telling yon, except in its relation to you. It is a pity that you should have been told any of those old grievances."

Elizabeth rose and took the brush from its hook, and swept up the ashes and embers that had fallen upon the hearth. Then she seated herself in her own low chair by the window, and took up her work, but laid it down again, and folded her hands on her lap.

Mr Maxwell smiled. "I see I am not expected to stay much longer. But really, Miss Holt, I don't quite see 'the pity' of it. Why am I not to know all that is going on as well as the rest? Besides, if your father had not told me, some one else would have done so."

"True."

"And I might in such a case have committed myself to the doing or saying of something foolish at a first hearing, as I should have done to-day but that your face made me pause."

"Did it?" said Elizabeth, demurely.

"And if silence is the thing to be desired, I shall be all the more likely to keep silence to others, if you give me the right and true version of troubles past, and of troubles possible in the future, with regard to this matter. Will you take up your work again, and tell me all? Or shall I come another time, Miss Elizabeth?"

But Miss Elizabeth had little to add to the story which her father had told. Jacob was hard, she supposed, just as business men were obliged to be hard sometimes. But then Mr Fleming was not to be regarded just as another man in the same position might be regarded--especially he was not to be so regarded by her brother Jacob. In the sore troubles that had come into the old man's life. Jacob had had a part. What part Elizabeth did not know she did not even know the nature of the trouble, but she knew, though she had only learned it lately, that the very sight of her brother was like wormwood to Mr Fleming; that even Mrs Fleming, friendly and sweet to all the world, was cold and distant to Jacob. And all this seemed to Elizabeth a sufficient reason why he should be more gentle and forbearing with them than with others, that he should be willing to forego his just claims rather than to lay himself open to the charge of wishing or even seeming to be "hard on them."

"For what is a little land, more or less, to Jacob, who has so much?

And why should he wish to take even a small part of what old Mr Fleming has worked so hard to improve--has put his life into, as one may say?"

"But does he want to take it? Have you ever spoken to your brother about this?"

"He is supposed to want it for the site of the new buildings to be put up for the manufacturing company--if it ever comes into existence. But he does not want it without a sufficient allowance to the old man for it. Only, I suppose, the debt would cover it all. But I have never spoken about it to Jacob. It is not easy to speak to him about business unless he wishes," said Elizabeth, hesitating. "But Clifton, who is quite inclined to be hard on Jacob, laughs at the idea of his doing unjustly or even severely by Mr Fleming."

"At least he has done nothing yet, it seems."