"Yes, thanks to you, my faithful friend. I feel that I owe you a great deal, first and last," the young man replied in a grateful tone; "and the squire tells me you are going home next week."
"I guess there ain't no call for you to feel overburdened," said the woman, swallowing hard to keep a sob from choking her, as she thought of the coming separation, "I never had to ask you twice to do anything for me, even when you was a boy; you was always careful about makin' trouble, you never made any litter bringin' wood—you never got any ashes on the floor when you made the fire in the mornin', and you always had a pleasant word for me when other folks were cross'n two sticks. I don't forget them things, I can tell you."
"And I am sure I have just as many pleasant memories. You were always very kind to me, Maria," said Clifford. Then, as he saw she was almost ready to weep, he added, with a laugh: "Oh, those turnovers and doughnuts that you used to tuck into my basket when I had to take my dinner to school on stormy winter days were things a boy could never forget! I believe nobody can make such doughnuts as yours, Maria—really, my mouth waters for one this very moment."
"Sho!—now you're giving me taffy," the woman retorted, with an answering laugh; but her face flushed with pleasure at his tribute nevertheless.
The next morning Squire Talford busied himself with writing a somewhat lengthy epistle, which, after addressing it, he directed Maria to post immediately.
Mrs. Kimberly was not above glancing at the superscription as she went out, and nodded significantly as she read the name, "William Faxon Temple, Esq." for she had recently seen the same, with another added, in the old family Bible at home. She, therefore, had a shrewd suspicion that the contents of that envelope related to matters of grave importance that were closely connected with Clifford. She looked even more wise when, that same evening, the maid who waited upon the door handed her a card and told her a gentleman was in the parlor and wanted to see Squire Talford, for one glance at the bit of pasteboard had revealed the same name that she had seen on the letter which she had posted that morning.
The squire told her to show the gentleman up immediately, and the two men were closeted together for more than two hours.
When the visitor left, Maria, who of course, was on the alert, observed that he was deathly pale, and that he walked unsteadily like one who had received a severe blow or had suddenly aged.
"So, that's the man; waal, the day o' judgment has come for him at last! The way of the transgressor is hard," she muttered gravely to herself.
The next afternoon, shortly before leaving his office, Clifford received the following note: