"Bless you—this is like you—this is noble, princely," murmured the old clerk, through his tears, which now were flowing unrestrainedly; "when I tell"——
"Hold! repeat his name again, and I recall the loan. I repent already of having been entrapped into this act of folly."
"You wrong your own liberal nature," said Sterling, mildly. "You are goodness itself, and fear not but you will receive your reward four-fold for all you have done for"——
"Away, you prating fool," cried Granite, in a tone that hurried the old clerk out of the office, full of gratitude for the service done, and of unaffected joy, that Providence had selected him to be the bearer of such happy intelligence to the son of his old employer.
Meantime, the merchant-prince flung himself into his comfortable easy-chair, a spasm of agony passing across his harsh features. "Oh! Travers, Travers!" he inly ejaculated, "must that black thought ever thrust itself like a grim shadow across the golden sun-ray of my prosperity?"
CHAPTER II.
THE MAN OF LABOR.
The accommodating reader will now be kind enough to accompany me to a far different place from that in which the foregoing dialogue was held. With an effort of the will—rapid as a spiritual manifestation—we are there. You see, it is an exceedingly small habitation, built entirely of wood, and, excepting that beautiful geranium-plant on one window, and a fine, sleek, contented-looking puss winking lazily on the other—both, let me tell you, convincing evidence that the household deities are worshipped on the hearth within—for wheresoever you see flowers cultivated outside of an humble house, look for cleanliness, and domestic comfort on the inside—excepting those two things, but little of ornament is visible. Kind people dwell within, you may know; for, see, the placid puss don't condescend to change her position as we near her; her experience hasn't taught her to dread an enemy in our species.
"Lift the latch; 'tis but a primitive fastening—nay! don't hesitate; you know we are invisible. There! you are now in the principal apartment. See how neat and tidy everything is. The floor, to be sure, is uncarpeted; but then it is sedulously clean. Look at those white window-curtains; at that well-patched table-cloth, with every fold as crisp as though it had been just pressed; the dresser over there, each article upon it bright as industry and the genius of happy home can make it.—What an appetizing odor steams in from yonder kitchen! and listen to those dear little birds, one in each window, carrying on a quiet, demure conversation, in their own sweet way! Do they not say, and does not every quiet nook echo:
"Though poor and lowly, there is all of Heaven that Heaven vouchsafes to man, beneath this humble roof; for it is the sphere of her who is God's choicest blessing—that world angel—a good, pure-hearted, loving WIFE."