,: 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- |
n<r the place with quaintly dressed shadows j
the old stout-hearted merchants of the pat.
LelJom have more than one companion. Un- !
'.-r 'he arclnvav, and along the passage, busy j
• n pass to and from their work the whole
;! iv long, hut they arc too much occupied, or j
'aanxious, to give a moment's glance at the j
r.ri'Mi, or to linger by the way. My only;
r ow visitor is an old clerk, whose years must J
•a* numbered nearly ninety, but whose memo- .
in is. 'ear and strong, although his body is
it with age. He is a kind of pensioner con
d with the place, and is the owner of the
• r aded flowers in the corner of the ground,
kh he tends with his own hands. For
-:i* y long, weary years lie has lived in these
i buildings, never having been out. of the ci- j
P further than Newington fields. Here he
p* horn, and here, when the appointed time
'rime, within sound of the familiar bells,
' i the familiar footsteps of the money-ma
's trampling over his head, he will drop in
'(• a city grave.
From the day when I ventured to give him i
■' advice about the management of a lilac
■•a. apparently in a dying state, he came and ;
' ! y my side, pouring into my willing ear all
r >torie 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. .