Mr. Lawrence groaned, but, with great presence of mind, said instantly: “Don’t shake so, Will, or you will lose your balance. Oh, if I had known this sooner, I should have done differently! But it is too late now to punish the unprincipled wretch.”
The reader, perhaps, is curious to know how it was that Mr. Lawrence arrived so opportunely. When too late to call him back, he saw that Will was utterly unable to manage the pony. Not stopping to answer any questions, he hastened to the stable, threw himself on the fastest horse, and gave chase. Will, of course, was far in advance, but Mr. Lawrence easily ran him down, and found him in Jackson’s field, as related.
Mr. Jackson made his appearance at the time appointed; and although he brought only a part of the rent due, his deportment was so humble and respectful; his promises were so fair and encouraging; and his apologies were so ingenious, yet in reality so hollow and ridiculous, that Mr. Lawrence’s indignation was softened; and the wretch was heard and dismissed with a mock and stiff politeness that galled him.
Mr. Lawrence was very forbearing with such of his tenants as were hard pressed; but this man’s threats to Will had provoked him extremely, and now, as he brooded over his wrongs, he determined, as soon as the change could be effected, to lease the farm to a more honorable man.
When a romancer reaches the colophon of his book, he is the most virtuous of men, the most impartial of judges, parcelling out reward and judgment with superhuman justice. Now, according to the laws of romance, Mr. Jackson, in cutting that field of oats, ought to be thrown from his reaping machine, and so cruelly mangled that his most implacable foe would melt into tears of anguish.
But, alas! it cannot be, as unkind fate compels us to bring him once more before the reader.