,: ULLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWjNJSTDJX : -v.rsi.ry Morning, August 26, 1808. rprom Dickens' Household Words, Jnly 10. ] HieEuJ of Fordyce, Jirothers. ~ ] on ,r as I can remember, I have always • j the* city—taking a strange delight in ' riii- up and down its busy streets, el v its merchants in their favorite gather - laic?. anil listening to the marvellous liis iv'L of many of its greatest money-makers. ; -'those men, perhaps, because I am not of J am of that listless, aimless, dreamy . ■-e which could not make niouey if it tried. promising enterprise would wither l.ifrniv touch. Few ure the guineas in my ;; kct that. 1 can call my own, but lam well and no feeling of envy arises in my , j js' I listen to the musical clinking of coin ikt comes from the open doors of the rich hanking houses. _ My most frequent haunt is an old nook in •Re heart of the city, which, although now .uynw, open as a public thoroughfare, must have been in former times the private garden •" some wealthy merchant's mansion. The France is under a low archway, built with ks of the deepest purple red, and over the - i.wav, in a white niche, stands a short, wea rer-beaten figure of a man, cut in stone, in a v-tnrae of a former age. Passing over the ydl-worn pavement through the arch, you find "i-v-df in a small quadrangle containing that krest of all things in these modem days—a fgirarden. Small care docs it now receive, v.-ausc no one can claim it as his own. The mod is black and hard—the yellow gravel ' ivin r long since been trodden out—and the :: e f vegetation which it boasts are two large he.-tnut trees that seem to gain in breadth tad vigor as the years roll on. A few droop flowers in one corner show that some town d hand is near, fond of the children of the •intrv, though little versed in their nature 1 their ways. Under the shade of one of ? trees stands an old wooden seat, chipped is many places, and rudely carved with names • I dates. Sitting on this bench, and looking • fore you to the other side of the quadrangle, eye" rests upon a short passage running nn r wooden arches, like an aisle in tlic old Flemish Exchange of Sir Thomas Grtsham. ! un the face of the brickwork-dwelling sur mnting these arches (now turned into offi - is fixed a rain washed sun-dial, and over i sis a small weathercock turret that at one , lime contained a hell. Any time between twelve o'clock and four, I I may be found seated upon that old bench un- J "die tree. Sometimes 1 bring a book, and ' Mid : sometimes I sit in listless repose, repeo- | ntorie that he knew about the old houses hi surrounded us. He soon found in me a Apathetic listener, who never interrupted or '■Bred of his narratives—-the stores of c " which extends over more than three- 1 'tl's of a century of time. At one corner of the quadrangle is a part - building with several long, dark, nar dusty windows, closely shut up with hea •Un shutters, scarcely visible through the " upon the glass. None of the panes arc v 'i, like those of a house in chancery, but •-'itinera! gloomy, ruined appearance would pirediv have given it tip as a prey to des • ''n if it had not been in its present se p i position. Its dismal aspect excited my :' fr -A and I obtained from my companion "' •irsioa of its story. ' -ive it in his own person, though not ex -1 -J in bis own words. , U'out the middle of the last century, two f 'rs were in business in these houses as pp'd merchants, whose names were James Robert Fordyce. They were quiet, mid ; J ged, amiable gentlemen, tolerably rich, 'Ale iu their dealings, affable and be to their servants, as I found during : ••-* years that I was in their employment. r transactions were large, and their cor , p'ideuts very numerous ; but, although t • must have been constantly receiving in uTi°n, by letter and otherwise, that would p e een valuable to them in speculations on , market, they never, to the best of * lio *ledge, made use of it for that pur hut confined their attention strictly to 'rude. This building was not divided " you see it now. la that corner which e( l up were our counting-houses, the l,( | room of the two brothers being on the t lloor. Tliejrest of the square was used ~ " ' : '''ous(*? i except the side over the arches, at was set apart as the private residence (partners, who lived there together, one * a bachelor, and the other a widower ..(. "'t children. 1 was quite a young man ' ; ime, but I remember everything as ; y as if it was only yesterday that I am ' K,|| g about, instead of seventy years ago. I have, perhaps, a strong reason for my shar pened memory—l consider myself the innocent cause of the destruction of the firm of For dyce, Brothers, through an accident resulting from my carelessness. One afternoon I went to the Postoffice with a letter, directed to a firm in Antwerp with whom we had large deal ings. I dropped it on the way. It contained a bank draft for a large amount, and, although every search was made for it that afternoon and evening, it was without success The next morning, about eleven o'clock, it was brought to our counting-house by a rather short young man of singular though pleasing aspect, named Michael ~ Armstrong. He hail a long interview with the elder partner, Mr. James Fordyce, in the private room, and what transpired we never exactly knew ; but the result was, that from that hour Michael Arm strong took his seat in onr office as the junior clerk. I had many opportunities of observing our new companion, and used them to the best of my ability. His appearance was much in his ■ favor, and he had a considerable power of making himself agreeable when he thought' proper to use it. It was impossible to judge of Lis age. He might have been fifteen—he might have been thirty. His face, at times, looked old and careworn, at others, smiling and young, but there was sometimes a vacant, calculating, insincere expression in his eye, that was not pleasant. He made no friends in the place—none sought him—none did he seek— and I do not think he was liked enough by any one of the clerks to be made the subject of those little pleasantries that are usually indul ged in at every office. They had probably de tected his ability and ambition, and they al ready feared him. 1 thought at one time I was prejudiced against him, because I had been thechauee in strument of bringing him to the place, and be cause his presence constantly reminded me of a gross act of carelessness, that had bro't down upon me the only rebuke I ever received from my employers. But I found out too well after wards that my estimate of his character was correct—more correct than that of my fellow- J clerks, many of whom were superior to mc in education and position, though not in discern ment. My constant occupation—when I was not actively employed in the duties of the office— | was watching Michael Armstrong ; and J soon convinced myself, that everything he did was ; the result of deep, quick, keen and selfish cal- J dilation. I felt that the bringing back of the ; letter was not the result of any impulse of lion- i esty, but of a conviction that it was safer and , more profitable to do so. coupled with a deter- j mination to make the most of his seeming vir-l tue. What the elder Mr. Fordyce gave him, ! I knew not ;but I judge from his liberal char acter that it was something considerable ; and j I know that when Michael Armstorng took \ his place in our counting-house, he was only i that which he willed to do from the first mo- [ ment that he had opened the lost letter, and ! ascertained the firm from whom it was sent.- , There was, at times, something fearfully, aw- i fully fascinating in watching the silent, steady working of a will like his, and to see it break ing down in its progress every barrier opposed against it, whether erected by God or man ; others saw it, and Watched like mc, and were j equally dazzled and paralyzed. % Michael Armstrong affected to be somewhat j deaf—l say affected, for I have good reason | to believe that the infirmity was put on to aid him in developing his many schemes. During | the greater part of the day, he acted as pri- j vate secretary of the two brothers, sitting in j one corner of their large room, by that window on the ground floor to the left, which is now j closed up, like all the others in that portion of i the building. I have said before that the firm, were often iu the receipt of early and valuable intelligence j which they used for legitimate purposes of'their ! trade, but never for speculations in the stock market. A good deal of onr business lay in corn and sugar, and the information that the 1 brothers got, enabled them to make large pur- 1 chases and --ales with great advantage. Some times special messengers came with letters, sometimes pigeon expresses, as was the eustoni in those days. Whatever words dropped from the partners table—(and they dropped with less reserve, as there was only a half-deaf se cretary in the room) —wore drank in by that sharp, calm, smiling, deceitful luce at the win dow. But, perhaps, his greatest opportunity was during the opening of the morning letters —many of them valuable, as coming from im portant correspondents abroad. Michael Arm strong's duty was to receive the key of the strong-room from the partners, when they came to business in the morning, and to prepare the books for the clerks in the outer-offices. The strong room was just at the back of Mr. James Fordyce's chair, and as he opened the most ini portant correspondence, reading it to his bro ther, who rested on the corner of the table, there must have been a sharp eye and a sharp er ear watching through "the crevises of the iron door behind them. The next duty that fell to Michael Armstrong, after the letters were read and sorted, was, to take any drafts that might be in them to the bankers.and bring the cash-liox, which was always deposited there for safety over night. This journey gave him an opportunity of acting upon the information that he hail gathered, and he lost no time in doing so. Of course, we never knew exactly what he did, or how ho did it : hut we guessed that through some agent, with the money that Mr. James Fordyce had given him when lie brought back the letter, and he made purchas es and sales in the stock market, with more or less success, lie never altered in his manner or appearance ; never betrayed by word or signs to any of the clerks,his losses or his gains; and never neglected his mechanical duties, al though he must have been much troubled in mind at times, by the operations he was con ducting secretly out of doors. Although not a favorite among the clerks, he liecame u favorite among the partners. — There was no undue partiality exhibited to wards him, for they were too scrupulously just for that—but his remarkable business aptitude, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. o'it KARA GOODRICH. " REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." his care and industry, bis manners, and proba-' bly his supposed infirmity, brought immediate ly before them every hour in the day, by his position as private secretary, had a natural in fluence, and met with adequate reward. In this way five years passed, quietly enough to all outward appearance; but Michael Arm strong was working actively and desperately beneath the surface, and biding his time. In those upper rooms to the right, exactly facing our counting houses, lived an old clerk, named Ilarhard, with one child, n daughter, named Esther. The place was a refuge provid ed for an old and faithful, poor and nearly worn-out servant of the house; and the salary he received was more like a pension, for his presence was never required in the office except when lie chose to render it. The daughter superintended the home of the two brothers, who as I have said before, lived upon the pre mises in those rooms over the arches. Esther Barnard, at this time, was not more than twenty years of age; rather short in figure very pretty and interesting, with large, dark, thoughtful eyes. Her manners were quiet and timid, the natural result of life spent chiefly within these redbricked walls, in attendance . upon an infirm father and two old merchants, j She went out very seldom, except on Sundays and Wednesday evenings, and then only to that jold city church just beyond the gate- 1 way, whose bells are ringing even now. Jn the summer-time, after business-hours, she used j to bring her work and sit upon this bench, under this tree; and in winter her favorite place, while her father was dozing over the fire in a deep leathern chair, was in the dark recesses of that long window, in the corner of their sitting-room overlooking the garden.— ! She was very modest and retiring, never ap pearing more than was absolutely necessary ; during the day; but for all her care, many a busy pen was stopped in the office as her small light form tlitted rapidly under the arched pas sage; and many an old heart sighed in remem brance of its bygone youthful days, while many a young heart throbbed with something more of hope and love. In this way, the daily life went on for sever al months. Michael Armstrong, by care—un ceasing care—perseverance and talent, rose, day hy day, ia the respect and estimation cf I the partners. Much was entrusted to him ; and, although he was not visibly promoted over the heads of his seniors, lie was still the confi dential clerk ; and the one in whom was cen tered tiic management of the banking and fi nancial transaction of the house. We prcstim- i ed—for we knew nothing then—that he was still working stealthily on the information that he gathered in the partners' room ; and which his new position, more than ever, gave him op portunities of using. It was a busy time for speculation about this period. Fortunes were made and lost by stock-gambling,in a day ; and Michael Armstrong,with his active, calculating brain, was not the man to allow the tempting stream to rush by without plunging into it. Our firm had an important branch house at Liverpool, through which in conducted its ship ping trade with America. Every six months it was the custom of one of the partners—ei tlieir Mr. James or Mr. Robert—to go down to pay a visit of inspection to this house,a task that usually occupied ten or twelve days. Mr. James Fordyce, about this time took his de parture one morning for Liverpool, leaving his brother Robert in charge of the London affairs. I can see them, even now shaking hands, out side that old gateway, before Mr. James step ped into the family coach in which the broth ers always posted the journey. Michael Arm strong was gliding to and fro with certain re quired papers —unobtiucsive, but keen and watchful. As the coach rolled away up the narrow street, Mr. James looked out of the window just as his brother returned slowlv back under the archway. I twas the last ho ever seen of liiin alive. # For several dayo after Mr. James Fordyce's departure everything went on as before. He started on a Friday, with a view of breaking the long, tedious journey, by spending the Sun day with some friends in Staffordshire. On the following Wednesday, towards the close of the day, a pigeon express arrived from Liverpool, bearing a communication in his handwriting, which was taken in to Mr. Robert Fordyce in Ids private room. No one in the office—ex cept, doubtless, Michael Armstrong—knew for many days what that short letter contained ; but we knew too well what another snort let ter conveyed, which was placed in melancholy haste, and silence the next mormng under the pigeon's wing, and started baek to Liverpool. This was in Michael Armstrong's handwriting. Mr. James Fordyce, upon his arrival at Li verpool, had found their manager committed to large purchases in American produce with out the knowledge of his principals, in the face of a market that liatl rapidly and extensively fallen. This gentleman's anxiety to benefit his employers was greater than his prudence; and, while finding that lie had made a fearful error, lie had not the courage to communicate it to London, although every hour rendered the po sition more rninons. Mr. James Fordyce. after a short and anx ious investigation, sent n dispatch to his broth er, for a stun of many thousand pounds—an I amount a great as the hwwg? could command ; upon so sudden an emergency. This money i was to be forwarded by a special messenger, without, an hour's delay, in a Bank of England draft ; nothing less would serve to extricate the local branch from its pressing difficulty, and save the firm from heavier loss. The let ter arrived on Wednesday, after the bank had closed, ami when nothing could he done until the following morning. In the meantime, in all probability, Michael Armstrong received instructions to prepare a statement of the available resources of the firm. Tliat evening about half-past eight o'clock', when Esther Barnard returned from church, she found Michael Armstrong waiting for her at the gateway. He seemed more thoughtful and absent than usual ; and his face, seen by the flickering light of the street oil lamp, (it was an October night.) had the old, pale, anx ious expression that I have before alluded to. Esther thought Tic was ill ; but, in reply to her gentle inquiries, as they entered the httu'si together, he said be was merely tired with the extra labor lie had undergone, consequent upon the receipt of intelligence from Mr. James Fordyce, and his natural solicitude for the welfare of the firm. Mr. Robert Fordyce's habits—as, indeed,the habits of both the brothers—were very simple. He walked for two hours during the evening, from six to eight, and then read until nine, at which time he took a light supper, consisting of a small roll and n glass of milk : which was always brought to him by Esther, who left the little tray upon the table by side of bis book, and wished good night until the morning. She then returned to Michael Armstrong, on the nights ho visited her, to sit until the clock of the neighboring church struck ten, at which hour she let him out at the gate, and retired to rest. On the night in question, she ha.il placed the same simple supper ready upon her table; and, after retiring a few moments to her room, to leave her hat and cloak, she returned, and took the tray to Robert's apartments. She did not notice Michael Armstrong particularly before she went in ; hut, when she came back, she found lorn standing by the open doorway, look ing wildlv and restlessly into the passage. Hlie again asked him anxiously if lie was ill,and his answer was as before ; adding, that he thought he heard her father's voice, calling her uaine, I but he was mistaken. They sat for some little time together over • the fire. Michael Armstrong would not take any supper, although pressed by Esther to do so. Ilis mind was occupied with some hidden thought, and he appeared as if engaged in lis tening for some expected sound. In this way passed about half an hour,when Esther thought she heard some distant groans, accompanied by a noise, like that produced by a heavy body falling on the ground. Esther started up; anil Michael Armstrong, who heard the noise too, immediately suggested the probable illness of her father. Esther waited not for another word, but ran for his apartment, to find him sleeping calmly on his bed. On her return, a few minutes afterwards, to the room she had just left, she found Michael Armstrong enter ing the doorway with the light. He said lie had been along the-passages to make a search, but without fiuding anything. He appeared more composed, and advised her to dismiss the matter from her mind. They sat together more cheerfully for the next half hour, until the ten o'clock bells sounded from the neigh- ' boring church, when she went across the gar den to shut the gate. The customary kiss was given at tiie door, and the customary laugh and good night received from the old private watchman parading the street ; but Esther , Barnard, as she locked the wicket and walked j across the garden to her own room, felt a heavy i hearted foreboding of some great sorrow, that was about to fall upon her. Her prayers that night were longer than usual, and her eyes were red with weeping before she went to sleep. Meantime,the lamp in Mr. Robert Fordyce's apartment, (the second window from the sun dial,) burnt dimly throught the night, and died j about the break of day. Its muster had died some hours before. In the morning the porters opened the place ' at the usual hour, and the full tide of business again set in. One of the earliest, but not the earliest, to arrive was Michael Armstrong.— His Grst inquiry was for Mr. Robert Fordyce, who was generally in his private room to open the letters, and give out the keys. He lind not been seen. An hour passed and then the inquiry was extended to the dwelling-house.— Michael Armstrong saw Esther, and begged her to go and knock at Mr. Robert's door.— She went, slowly and fearfully, knocked, and there was no answer. Knocked again with the same result. The alarm now spread, that something serious had happened. Esther re tired tremblingly with her forebodings of the night might more than half realized, while the clerks came up, and after a brief consultation, broke open the door. A room with a close and slightly ehemk'al smell ; the blinds still down ; an oil-lamp that had burnt out ; a book half open upon the table ; a nearly empty tumbler that con tained milk ; a roll untouched ; and Mr. Ro bert Fordyce, lying dead, doubled upon the floor near a couch, the damask covering of which lie had torn and bitten. On the table, near tlie tumbler was a small, screwcdup pa per, containing some of the poison from which he had died ; and near this was a letter di rected, somewhat tremblingly, iu his own hand writing to his brother James. One of the earliest, but not the earliest in the room was Michael Armstrong, calm, digni fied and collected. Though far younger than many others, lie took the lead natnkully and firmly, and no one seemed to have nerve or in clination to dispute his authority. Esther stood anxiously amongst the crowd at the door look ing on with her whole soul starting through her eyes. Michael Armstrong took up the letter upon the table. It was unen!ed. He opened it, and read in a clear, linn voice, the short and painful statement it contained. Mr. Robert Fordyce confessed to his brother that for some time he had largely appropriated the funds of the firm to his own use for speculation that had turned out unsuccessful in the stock mar ket. Unable to refund the money to meet the sudden emergency thak had fallen upon the house, and fearing to see his brother again af ter perpetrating such a wrong, lie had resolved to die by poison, administered by his own hand. Deep silence broken by sobs and tears, fol lowed the reading of this letter, for the dead merchant was loved and respected by all. A short summons, written by Michael Armstrong, as I have said before, was tied to the pigeon, and sent to Mr. James Fordyce at Liverpool. For the next few days the business of the house was at a standfaU. The sad event was the gossip of the Exchange, and the commer cial coffee-rooms ; and the credit of Fordyce, Brothers, high as their character s f ood in the city, w as, of course, materially and fatally iu jurcd by this sudden calamity. It was late on Friday iiight'wheu Mr. James Fordyce returned, having started at once upon the receipt of the dispatch, and posted the whole way. lie spent an hour in silent and sacred communion with his dead brother, nliu every one read in his fine, open, benevolent face, how thoroughly the wrong was forgiven that had shaken the foundations of the firm, and sent one of its members to a sudden grave. He then devoted himself, night and day, to the investigation of their financial position, aid ed in every thing by Michael Armstrong, who was ever at his side. In the course of few days his determination was known. By closing the branch concern at Liverpool, contracting the operations,and reducing the London house, the capital remaining was sufficient to discharge all outstanding obligations, leaving a small balance upon which to re-construct the firm. This was done, and the honor of Fordyce, Bro thers, was preserved. Many of onr staff, under the new arrange ments, were dismissed, but the thoughtful care of Mr. Fordyce had provided them with other situations in neighboring firms. In other re spects our business went on as before, but with one exception. Tue confidence hitherto exist ing between Mr. Fordyce and Michael Arm strong, was at an end, and although the latter was still retained in his capacity as private se cretary, he appeared to feel that lie was no longer honored and trusted. I believe at this time lie would gladly have left the place, but some secret power and influence seemed to j compel him to remain. He had never made friends of any of his fellow clerks, nor did he seek them now. Old Barnard's repugnance to his marriage with Es ther at length took the form of open personal repugnance ; and poor Esther, herself, while her heart was undoubtedly unchanged, became sometimes cold and timid in his presence ; at other times loving and repentant, as if strug gling with some great, fearful doubt that she did not dnre confide to him. She was less de sirous of seeking his company ; and the roses on her fair young cheeks, that had grown up even within these old city walls, now faded before the hidden grief of her heart. God bless her ; her love had fallen, indeed, upon stony ground. Mr. Fordyce seemed nLo to be struggling between a variety of contending feelings. Whe ther lie bad set a watch upon Michael Arm strong at this period 1 cannot sav ; but while lie appeared to feci his presence irksome, he seemed always anxious to have him near.— Better would it have been fcr him if lie had let him go to his ways. It was impossible for Michael Armstrong to be ignorant of this state of things, and it only served to make him if possible, more keen-eved and watchful. What he thought or did was still only known to himself, but there was oc casional evidence upon the surface that seemed to indicate the direction of his silent work ing. The one who saw her most was Michael Arm strong. Jlis duty, every night, was to lock up the ware-rooms and counting-houses rendering the keys to old Barnard, who placed them in the private apartments of the two brothers.— Since the clerk's bodily wcakne?s had increased, this task was confided to his daughter, who executed it tiniidlv at first, gaining courage, however, by degrees, until, at last, she came to consider it a part of the day's labor, even pleas ant to look forward to. Whether Michael Armstrong ever really loved Esther Barnard is more than I can say. I have to judge him heavily hnough in other and greater matters, and I am, therefore, loth to respect him in this, lie had no faith, no hope, no heart— nothing but brain, brain, ceaseless brain ; and a small love, that I have found, ever came from a soul like this. What lie thought and meant was always hidden behind the same calm, smiling mask—the same thoughtful, deceptive, even beautiful face. He used his appearance as only another instrument to aid him in his de sign, and he seldom used it in vain. Esther's love for Michael Arwstrong was soon no secret to the whole house, and many, while tliey en vied liirn, sincerely pitied her, though they could scarcely give a reason for so doing. The partners, however—especially Mr. Jaiues For dyce—looked with favor upon the match ; but from some cause, her father, old Barnard, felt towards it a strange repugnance. It may have been that there was Lome selfish feeling at the bottom of his opposition—some natural and pardonable disinclination to agree to an union that threatened to deprive him in his sickness and his old age of nil'only daughter who was both his companion and his nurse. Be this us it may, he would not fix any definite time for the marriage, although, for his daughter's sake, he did not prohibit the visits of him upon whom her heart was bestowed. Michael Armstrong did not press just then for a more favorable determination, and, for this reason, 1 am led to believe that be had obtained his object— an excuse for being upon tl.e premises unsus pected after the business hours of the day were over. I never knew him to allow his will to be opposed, and 1 must, therefore, conclude, that in this instance he was satisfied with the ground that had been gained. Esther, too, was hap py—happy in her confidence and pure affection —happy in the presence of him she loved— happy in being powerless to penetrate behind the stony, cruel, selfish mask, that, in her trust ing eyes seemed always lighted up with love | and truth. Our house had never entirely recovered the ; shock given to its credit by the violent death ! of Mr. Robert Fordyce. Rumors of our being iin an insolvent position were occasionally bandied about the town, gaining strength with the maturing of a large demand; dying away | for a time, alter it had been promptly satis fied. Our bankers, too, began to look coldly upon ns. Toe rumors gradually took a more consist ent and connected form; an unfavorable con dition of the money market arose; the stron gest houses cannot always stand against such adverse influences, and we were, at last, com pelled to close our transactions. We stopped payment. Contrary to general expectation, Mr. For dyee declined to call iu any professional assis tance to prepare a statement of the affairs of VOL. XIX. —NO. IS. the firm. At a preliminary meeting of Jiis creditors, he took his ground upon life? tonfe and dearly-earned character for commercial integrity; and asked for a fortnight, in which ; to investigate his books and assets. He ob tained it. If any one was disappointed at this, it was Michael Armstrong. His will for once was foiled. For reasons best known, at that time to himself, he wished, now that the house was destroyed, to have all the books and paper# removed oat of the reach of Mr. Fordvce. It was not to be. M r Fordyce, from the hour of the meeting, almost lived in his private "oface-room. Day after day was he seen arranging papers and making extracts from the leathern bonnd led gers. Night after niht Ids green shaded office-lamp was lighting liiin through the same heavy, weary task, lie had removed his writing desk from the back of the room to that window on the left of the ground door, where Michael Armstrong used to sit. He worked chiefly alone, and seldom called in the help of his secretary, except for some iutricute parts of the cash accounts. Iu this way the time went quickly on, and Mr. Fordyce had arrived within a few days of the completion of his labors. It. was 011 a Wednesday evening—a winter's evening in the latter part of January—about half-past seven o'clock, that Mr. Fordvce and Michael Armstrong were alone together, after all the clerks had gone, at the window in that room, deeply engaged in a mass of papers.—> There deemed to lie an angry dismission de tween them. Mr. Fordyce was pointing firmly to some white paper leaves, which shone brightly under the condensed glare of the shaded lamp. Roth faces were covered with a dark veil of shadow, arising from the re flected covering of the lamp hut Michael Armstrong's keen eyes flashed cvily, even through the mist of that dim light. The next moment iic was behind Mr. Fordyce's chair, with his hand firmly twisted in the folds of the old merchant's neckcloth. There was a short and hornless struggle. Two arms were thrown wildly into the air; a body fell off the chair on to the ground; and Mr. James For dyce had learned more in that instant, than all those piles of paper would have taught him if lie had examined tliern for years. Ho was dead ; —dead, too, without any outward marks of violence upon his body. Nor was this all. Esther Earnnrd was sitting without a light in the dark recess of her favorite window: sitting spell-bound, paralyzed, parched and speechless, gazing upon the old office window and the green-covered lamp, nnder the slradc of which this terrible drama had just passed before her eyes. She could make no sign. The whole fearful past history of Mieheal Arm strong was mnde clear to her as in a mirror, although the picture was shattered in a mo ment, as soon as formed She mnst have sat there the whole night through heedless of the calls of her sick father in the adjoining room, to nurse whom she had stayed away that even ing from church. They found her in the morn ing in the same position with her reason par tially gone. Michael Armstrong came in the next day punctually at the busines hour, lie appeared even more collected than nsual, for he believed all the evidence against him was now destroyed forever. A rigid investigation wasinstituted on the part of the creditors; and the mind wanderings of poor Esther Earnnrd were of great importance in making out a case against him. It may be that her sad affliction was ordained to bring about his destrnction, for I do not believe that if she had retained her reason, she would ever have been induced to speak one Word against him. Her heart might have broken, but her tongue would have re mained silent. As it was, her accusations were gathered to gether, bit bv bit—gathered as I gathered much of this story, from her lips in liappv intervals, filling np from imagina tion and personal knowledge all that seemed . unconnected and obscure. The investigation tierer reached the eonrts |of law. Michael Armstrong saw with the old clearness of vision the inevitable result of the chain of evidence—saw it traced up from speculation to forgery from !orgcr< to his poisoning of Mr. Robert Fordyce, from the poisoning to his forgery of the letter transfer ring the early crime, and from the letter to | the destruction of tlie imnsc and its last survi ving representative To avoid the expected punishment—prepared as he always was for emergency he poisoned himself in that pri vate room before our eyes. Whether the cap ital, of which he had sapped the firm, had been productive or not in his hands, we never knew. He was never known to acknowledge any kin dred ; and no one ever acknowledged him.—- He died, and made no sign ; silently and sul lenly, with his face to the wall. At. one time 1 indulged in hope that Esther Rnrnnrd might recover, and I had pre pared a home for her, even without the selfish desire of being rewarded with her poor,broken heart. Iter father died, and I cherished her as a brother. llt r melancholy madness, at times, was relieved with short lucid intervals, during which she thanked me s>> touchingly and sweetly for supposed kindnesses, that it was more, than a reward. It was my pleasure to watch for such happy moment patiently for days, and weeks, and months. Iu one of them she died, tit last, in these arms, and, 1 buried her in the ground of her old church outside the gateway. Our firm was never, in any form, restored, though I still cling to the old place. I have seen it sink gradually, step by step, un til it can Scarcely sink lower ; but it is still j near Esther. There is little happiness in grow ing so very old. The old clerk told lr> story truthfully and clearly, and if there was indistinctness of ut terance, it was only towards the close. Much of it may have been the plmmton of nn old man's imagination, feeding on the tradition of ; a few closer!, dnstv shutters ; but it interested I mo, because it spoke to mc of a by-gone time j and of persons and thin :s among which I love to live and move. .