"_Where were you the night of the murder?_"

Mr. Stevens turned pale at this question, and replied, hesitatingly, "Why, at home, of course."

"You were at home, and saw the house of your cousins a.s.saulted, and made no effort to succour them or their children. The next morning you are one of the coroner's inquest, and hurry through the proceedings, never once saying a word of your relationship to them, nor yet making any inquiry respecting the fate of the children. _It is very singular_."

"I don't see what this cross-questioning is to amount to; it has nothing to do with my claim as heir."

"We are coming to that," rejoined Mr. Balch. "This, as I said, is very singular; and when I couple it with some other circ.u.mstances that have come to my knowledge, it is more than singular--_it is suspicious_. Here are a number of houses a.s.saulted by a mob. Two or three days before the a.s.sault takes place, a list in your handwriting, and which is headed, '_Places to be attacked_,' is found, under circ.u.mstances that leave no doubt that it came directly from you. Well, the same mob that attacks these places--_marked out by you_--traverse a long distance to reach the house of your next-door neighbour. They break into it, and kill him; and you, who are aware at the time that he is your own cousin, do not attempt to interpose to prevent it, although it can be proved that you were all-powerful with the marauders. No! you allow him to be destroyed without an effort to save him, and immediately claim his property. Now, Mr.

Stevens, people disposed to be suspicions--seeing how much you were to be the gainer by his removal, and knowing you had some connection with this mob--might not scruple to say that _you_ instigated the attack by which he lost his life; and I put it to you--now don't you think that, if it was any one else, you would say that the thing looked suspicious?"

Mr. Stevens winced at this, but made no effort to reply.

Mr. Balch continued, "What I was going to remark is simply this. As we are in possession of these facts, and able to prove them by competent witnesses, we should not be willing to remain perfectly silent respecting it, unless you made what _we_ regarded as a suitable provision for the children."

"I'm willing, as I said before, to do something; but don't flatter yourself I'll do any more than I originally intended from any fear of disclosures from you. I'm not to be frightened," said Mr. Stevens.

"I'm not at all disposed to attempt to frighten you: however, you know how far a mere statement of these facts would go towards rendering your position in society more agreeable. A person who has been arrested on suspicion of murder is apt to be shunned and distrusted. It can't be helped; people are so very squeamish--they _will_ draw back, you know, under such circ.u.mstances."

"I don't see how such a suspicion can attach itself to me," rejoined Stevens, sharply.

"Oh, well, we won't discuss that any further: let me hear what you will do for the children."

Mr. Balch saw, from the nervous and embarra.s.sed manner of Mr. Stevens, that the indirect threat of exposing him had had considerable effect; and his downcast looks and agitation rather strengthened in his mind the suspicions that had been excited by the disclosures of Mr. Walters.

After a few moments' silence, Mr. Stevens said, "I'll settle three thousand dollars on each of the children. Now I think that is treating them liberally."

"Liberally!" exclaimed Balch, in a tone of contempt--"liberally! You acquire by the death of their father property worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and you offer these children, who are the rightful heirs, three thousand dollars! That, sir, won't suffice." "I think it should, then," rejoined Stevens. "By the laws of Georgia these children, instead of being his heirs, are my slaves. Their mother was a slave before them, and they were born slaves; and if they were in Savannah, I could sell them both to-morrow. On the whole, I think I've made you a very fair offer, and I'd advise you to think of it."

"No, Mr. Stevens; I shall accept no such paltry sum. If you wish a quick and peaceful possession of what you are pleased to regard as your rights, you must tender something more advantageous, or I shall feel compelled to bring this thing into court, even at the risk of loss; and there, you know, we should be obliged to make a clear statement of _everything_ connected with this business. It might be advantageous to _us_ to bring the thing fully before the court and public--but I'm exceedingly doubtful whether it would advance _your_ interest."

Stevens winced at this, and asked, "What would you consider a fair offer?"

"I should consider _all_ a just offer, half a fair one, and a quarter as little as you could have the conscience to expect us to take."

"I don't see any use in this chaffering, Mr. Balch," said Stephens; "you can't expect me to give you any such sums as you propose. Name a sum that you can reasonably expect to get."

"Well," said Mr. Balch, rising, "you must give us fifteen thousand dollars, and you should think yourself well off then. We could commence a suit, and put you to nearly that expense to defend it; to say nothing of the notoriety that the circ.u.mstance would occasion you. Both Walters and I are willing to spend both money and time in defence of these children's rights; I a.s.sure you they are not friendless."

"I'll give twelve thousand, and not a cent more, if I'm hung for it," said Mr. Stevens, almost involuntarily.

"Who spoke of hanging?" asked Mr. Balch.

"Oh!" rejoined Stevens, "that is only my emphatic way of speaking." "Of course, you meant figuratively," said Mr. Balch, in a tone of irony; mentally adding, "as I hope you may be one day literally."

Mr. Stevens looked flushed and angry, but Mr. Balch continued, without appearing to notice him, and said: "I'll speak to Walters. Should he acquiesce in your proposal, I am willing to accept it; however, I cannot definitely decide without consulting him. To-morrow I will inform you of the result."

CHAPTER XXVI.

Home Again.

To Charlie the summer had been an exceedingly short one--time had flown so pleasantly away. Everything that could be done to make the place agreeable Mrs. Bird had effected. Amongst the number of her acquaintances who had conceived a regard for her young _protege_ was a promising artist to whom she had been a friend and patroness. Charlie paid him frequent visits, and would sit hour after hour in his studio, watching the progress of his work.

Having nothing else at the time to amuse him, he one day asked the artist's permission to try his hand at a sketch. Being supplied with the necessary materials, he commenced a copy of a small drawing, and was working a.s.siduously, when the artist came and looked over his shoulder.

"Did you ever draw before?" he asked, with a start of surprise.

"Never," replied Charlie, "except on my slate at school. I sometimes used to sketch the boys' faces."

"And you have never received any instructions?"

"Never--not even a hint," was the answer.

"And this is the first time you have attempted a sketch upon paper?"

"Yes; the very first."

"Then you are a little prodigy," said the artist, slapping him upon the shoulder. "I must take you in hand. You have nothing else to do; come here regularly every day, and I'll teach you. Will you come?"

"Certainly, if you wish it. But now, tell me, do you really think that drawing good?" "Well, Charlie, if I had done it, it would be p.r.o.nounced very bad for me; but, coming from your hands, it's something astonishing."

"Really, now--you're not joking me?"

"No, Charlie, I'm in earnest--I a.s.sure you I am; it is drawn with great spirit, and the boy that you have put in by the pump is exceedingly well done."

This praise served as a great incentive to our little friend, who, day after day thenceforth, was found at the studio busily engaged with his crayons, and making rapid progress in his new art.

He had been thus occupied some weeks, and one morning was hurrying to the breakfast-table, to get through his meal, that he might be early at the studio, when he found Mrs. Bird in her accustomed seat looking very sad.

"Why, what is the matter?" he asked, on observing the unusually grave face of his friend.

"Oh, Charlie, my dear! I've received very distressing intelligence from Philadelphia. Your father is quite ill."

"My father ill!" cried he, with a look of alarm.

"Yes, my dear! quite sick--so says my letter. Here are two for you."

Charlie hastily broke the seal of one, and read as follows:--

"MY DEAR LITTLE BROTHER,--We are all in deep distress in consequence of the misfortunes brought upon us by the mob.

Our home has been destroyed; and, worse than all, our poor father was caught, and so severely beaten by the rioters that for some days his life was entirely despaired of. Thank G.o.d!

he is now improving, and we have every reasonable hope of his ultimate recovery. Mother, Caddy, and I, as you may well suppose, are almost prostrated by this acc.u.mulation of misfortunes, and but for the kindness of Mr. Walters, with whom we are living, I do not know what would have become of us. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Garie--[Here followed a pa.s.sage that was so scored and crossed as to be illegible. After a short endeavour to decipher it, he continued:] We would like to see you very much, and mother grows every day more anxious for your return. I forgot to add, in connection with the mob, that Mr. Walters's house was also attacked, but unsuccessfully, the rioters having met a signal repulse.

Mother and Caddy send a world of love to you. So does Kinch, who comes every day to see us and is, often extremely useful. Give our united kind regards to Mrs. Bird, and thank her in our behalf for her great kindness to you.--Ever yours,

"ESTHER.