Marguerite Verne; Or, Scenes from Canadian Life Part 5

There are several younger members of this family, but as they are not necessary throughout the work we will not make mention of them here.

On the morning when Marguerite Verne sat in the luxurious crimson velvet arm-chair reading Cousin Jennie's letter, the latter was engaged in fas.h.i.+oning some dainty sc.r.a.ps of wool and silk into various little knick-knacks for a bazaar.

The pupils in attendance at the common school were anxious to procure some extra apparatus for the hall, and having received much a.s.sistance from the young ladies of the district, entered into the work with a will.

Jennie Montgomery was a host in herself. A bright, amiable girl of eighteen, with robust const.i.tution, sunny disposition, and step elastic as a fairy. She was, indeed, an ornament to her home and also to the community.

Jennie was not a beauty--had not the least pretentions to one. Her dark complexion was pure and health-like; but it was not heightened by that peachy bloom peculiar to brunette's, instead only a warm, bright and ruddy hue, which some might consider as approaching the rustic. Her eyes, as they sparkle with delight at the pretty array of bright colors, might not be admired as of the poetic or ideal type, but in their depths lurks a keen and significant expression of the peculiarly intelligent and earnest appeal that seldom speaks in vain. The neat and cosy parlor, with its many articles of female handiwork, speak for the taste and talent displayed by this interesting girl. The pretty sketches of familiar haunts near her loved home showed that genius had stamped the brow of Jennie Montgomery, and inspired her with a deep enthusiasm for the beautiful and sublime.

Presently she rises from the work table, and opening a door leading to the balcony, stands for some moments gazing in mute admiration upon the lovely view of Suss.e.x Vale, wrapped in its mantle of purest white, reflected in the suns.h.i.+ne as a vast expanse of frosted silver.

CHAPTER VI.

A LAWYER'S REVERIE--A VERDANT CLIENT.

A dismal dreary day. The fog had crept slowly over the city and enveloped every object within its reach. There was fog clinging to turrets, spires and towers, fog in the streets, fog in the alleys, fog in the ditches--all was fog. It hurried along utterly regardless of the delicate fabrics that were ruthlessly despoiled by its touch, musing now and then, doubtlessly, on the ingrat.i.tude of the fair daughters of St. John who, in the possession of their clear and brilliant complexions forgot to give thanks to the great enhancer.

In the midst of this fog many pedestrians are wandering to and fro, crowding the streets, hurrying along the wharves, hailing vehicles, accosting their friends, and in fact as perfectly happy in their surroundings as though the cheerful, suns.h.i.+ne were illuminating all visible s.p.a.ce.

Pa.s.sing along Prince William street as far as Chubb's Corner we see a familiar form--it is Phillip Lawson. He is enveloped in a gray Mackintosh and his soft felt hat is worn with an air of careless ease that is more becoming than otherwise.

"Chubb's Corner" had lost its charm for the young lawyer. He did not stop to consult stocks, exchanges, debentures or any such business, but merely nodding to an acquaintance or so crossed the street and wended his steps to the lawyers' nests--nests from the fact that in this, locality they hatched all the schemes by which to victimize their unwary clients.

But of our friend. He gained his apartments, and throwing aside the outer garment, sat down at his desk and drawing his hand across his forehead, began to think. "I want to see n.o.body for the next hour,"

murmured the young man, his brows contracting as he spoke.

A deep shade settled upon the usually mild countenance. A question of momentous importance was to be decided. "To be or not to be" was the final answer. Each solution involved a corresponding number of conflicting doubts and anxieties, and left scarcely any choice in the mind of the reasoner.

"No doubt it's a good field for a beginner in life. St. John has more lawyers than would start a colony. Some of us must go to the wall, and I don't fancy being one of that number."

This was the sunny side of Phillip's reflection. He was trying to cheat himself into the belief that "green fields and pastures new"

were panacea for all other grievances, and that that was the goal of his ambition.

"Yes, it's a good 'spec'; but why is the fellow so anxious for me to get it? Still I would like to hear more of the matter before I question the motives."

The young lawyer was aware of the fact that Hubert Tracy had been using his influence for another a short time previous, and he could not see his motives for such change of opinion. True, a sudden intimacy had sprung up between them, but the subject had been hitherto mentioned and acted upon; therefore the last reason formed no groundwork for his convictions.

Occasionally a dark thought crossed Phillip Lawson's mind. Can the fellow be honest? I cannot bear to think ill of a fellow-man, and I must not now. I know that Tracy is not what he might be, yet he has a kind heart and what's the use of my talking, who is faultless?

"Let him that is without sin cast the first stone."

It was here that the beauty of Phillip Lawson's character showed itself. The young man was a Christian. He had always cherished the principles of true piety, and as he repeated over the words of Him who was the friend of sinners, it was in tones of sublime tenderness.

Instantly a second thought flashed across his mind--he had an acquaintance--a member of a legal firm in that newly-founded city in the Northwest. He, therefore, made up his mind to write at an early date and make all the necessary inquiries.

Having settled his mind upon this point another subject presented itself to our friend, and from the sudden flash of his grey eyes one would imagine that it was of an electrifying nature.

It is one, which, from the remote ages, has had power to magnetize, humanize and civilize; it is the power which makes man what he should be--love--that short word of four letters--what a world of thought it embraces--it held the heart of Phillip Lawson at will, and despite his power of self-control he was often the victim of its vagaries.

But the lawyer had not long time to indulge in such thoughts. A knock aroused him.

"Come-in."

A stalwart looking youth of muscular build (with suit of grey homespun not cut exactly in the proportions of that of a dude) stood upon the threshold with a look upon his florid face that betrayed some embarra.s.sment.

"You be Mr. Lawson the lawyer, sir."

"Yes, sir," said the young pract.i.tioner, a smile lighting up his face and making him an interlocutor not to be dreaded by the most unsophisticated client.

"'Spose I needn't ask, be you pretty well posted in law?" queried the individual on taking his seat, at the same time pulling out an enormous expanse of red and yellow cotton, called by way of courtesy a handkerchief, which he vigorously switched across his face as though a swarm of mosquitoes were on the aggressive, and kept the field unflinchingly.

"What is the cause of complaint, sir?" ventured the interested lawyer, scarcely able to repress a smile.

"Well, sir, to come to the pint at once, as you fellers allus happin to say, since I was knee-hight of a gra.s.shopper I had a hankerin'

after the law, and allus envied tother fellers when they'd to go to the 'Squire's on trials, and I tell you they thought themselves some punkins when they got a day's wages for goin'"--

"Of your question at issue," interrupted our legal friend, "I mean on what point do you wish to consult me, sir?"

"Well, sir, as I told you before, I'm comin' straight to the pint,"

replied the youth, giving the aforesaid bandana a more vigorous switch in the direction of his interrogator, then continued, "and, firstly (as them lecturin' fellers say) I allus thought I'd like mighty well to have a trial myself, and bring some un up to the scratch; and I've jest got my wish, and if it costs all dad's worth I'll make 'em sweat!

"Are you a minor, sir?" demanded the lawyer.

"No, sir; I'm no relative to them _miners_, nor don't want to be, tho' Sally Ann is allus taggin' arter me, and would like terrible well to hitch on to me; but I tell you, 'Squire, I'm not so green as they think, though I'm mighty fond of buckwheat."

This last speech was too much tax on the risibility of the "'Squire," as familiarly dubbed by the would-be client, and after some merriment, explained the tenor of his question, a.s.suring the youth that it bore no allusion to "Sally Ann."

After the young lawyer had taxed his ingenuity to draw the verdant client "to the point" he learned that the cause of complaint was directed against one Joshua Jones, who had given himself an invitation to haul off some cedar poles claimed to be the property of the said Mose Spriggins, and the said Mose wished indemnification right speedily.

"Tell you what 'Squire I'll put him fur as the law will carry it, and if you can slap on plenty of cost 'Squire, it'll do me more good than eaten my supper."

"I shall do the best I can for you sir," said the young man, carefully noting the points which Mose brought to bear on the matter.

"Well now 'Squire, suppose you want your wages for this 'eer job.

What's your price?"

Mose now produced a complicated piece of mechanism from his expansive waistcoat pocket. It might have been constructed for a three-fold purpose--for money, pipes and tobacco. The odoriferous exhalation giving strong evidence of the latter commodity.

"Well 'Squire, you fellers earn your livin' mighty easy," exclaimed Mose, tendering the five dollar bill into the lawyer's hand.

The latter smiled, pocketed the fee and commenced writing the letter to the defendant Joshua Jones.

"Now sir, if this thing works well, I don't grudge ye the money 'Squire, and any time I have somethin' more in the law business I'll throw it your way, for I think you a squarer sort of a chap than them ere gang further up the street. I tell you they're sharpers, they fleeced dad last summer and I wasn't agoin' to be so green, eh 'Squire?"

"Well Mr. Spriggins, I shall always try to work to your satisfaction any time you are in need of advice," returned our friend, rising from the desk and going toward the window.

Mr. Spriggins thought he would soon be ready for "startin'" and also rose up, in the meantime depositing the before-mentioned wallet in his waistcoat pocket. Silence reigned in the lawyer's office for three minutes, when the door was reopened and Mose Spriggins'