What Came Afterwards CHAPTER 26.

Not in vain had Mr. Ewbank, through all the months of Mr. Guyton's childish state, wrought with him for good — not in vain had Mrs. Ewbank ministered to him in patience, in gentleness, and in love. Too deeply had the impressions they sought to make, imbedded themselves in his consciousness. A sudden and entire restoration of the past, might have obliterated much; but, old things came back so gradually, that opportunity was given to blend with them new and better states of life.

The old hardness — the old love of money — the old intense selfishness, manifested themselves at times — but, love for his daughter, born of her love and care for him, and a regard for, and confidence in Mr. Ewbank, upon which no suspicion could intrude, were softening and countervailing elements with Mr. Guyton. Light had come into his mind, showing him a different relation of things. He saw higher truths than had ever before presented themselves; saw beauty in goodness, and a charm in self-denial. Limited, for a period of time, to the society of his daughter, her husband, and Doctor and Mrs. Hofland — he became familiar with traits in human character never seen before. In the old life, he did not believe that such a thing as unselfishness existed. It was a dream of the preacher and the enthusiast. But, in the new life, it was a conviction that no reasoning could disturb.

Everything in regard to his family that could be learned, from the period of his removal to the hospital until the present time, was communicated to Adam Guyton. By many things that were related, he was touched deeply; and many things aroused his fiery indignation. Always, Mr. Ewbank endeavored to lift him above revenge — into a regard for what was just and humane. Towards his son Henry, on learning how heartlessly he had separated himself from his brothers and sisters, and how basely and unnaturally he had acted towards Lydia, when informed of her presence in the city under circumstances of extreme destitution, his feelings were very bitter. No argument, no excuse, no representation, could soften him towards Henry.

"He is unworthy the name of son or brother! Don't speak of him!"

In sentences like these, varied with harsher words, he answered all the attempts made by Lydia and her husband to draw, in his mind, a veil over Henry's heartless conduct; and they finally ceased all reference to a subject which only made him sterner and less forgiving.

Late in the afternoon of the day on which Larobe had been arrested, Doctor Hofland received a note from him, asking an interview on matters of importance, at eight o'clock in the evening. The place named was the lawyer's office. He had given bond for his appearance at court, and was at liberty. At the hour mentioned, Doctor Hofland called, as desired. He found Mr. Larobe alone. His appearance shocked him. Never had he seen, in any face, a more exhausted, worn, and hopeless expression. But, his eyes were steady as he looked at him — steady, with some desperate purpose.

"Excuse me, Doctor, for having put you to the trouble of coming to my office," he said, calmly. "I would have called on you, but here we shall be free from chance interruptions; and I have that to say which needs to be calmly considered. And, first of all, Doctor, will you receive from me any communication I may think best to make, and hold it sacred to the extent I desire. I can trust your honor. Your pledge given, I know it will bind."

The Doctor, after a few moments' reflection, answered —

"Is any good to arise from this communication?"

"That will depend, mainly, on your judgment in regard to it. If what I have to propose meets your approval, good will arise — if not to me, at least to others. If it does not meet your approval, I stipulate for an honorable silence concerning all that I may communicate. On no other terms will I utter a sentence of what is in my mind. You are, no doubt, aware that I was, today, placed under arrest."

"I am aware of it."

"And you know something of the cause?"

"Yes."

"It is of this that I desire to talk with you. Are you prepared to hear me, in the strictest confidence? To hold my communication as sacred as if made at the confessional? I have no purpose of deception or hindrance. What I shall say will not embarrass you in the smallest degree. Your present relation to the case will remain undisturbed, if you decide not to act in the line of policy I wish to present for your consideration."

"I will hear you," said the Doctor, after a silence of over a minute.

"In honorable confidence?"

"Certainly."

They were sitting at opposite sides of a table, and Larobe was leaning, in nervous expectation, towards Doctor Hofland. At the answer he drew back, with stronger signs of relief than he meant to have betrayed.

"Of course," he said, after a pause for collected thought, "I have not been in ignorance of the movement for some time planned against me; nor of the nature of the evidence that will be adduced to convict me of crime. I know just how much it is all worth, and how to meet and dispose of it; and I feel sure of being able to thwart all the plans laid for my ruin. Still, I shrink from the infamous notoriety which must come when the case opens. Of late years, my health has not been good. I am losing in both nervous and mental stamina, and do not feel equal to the strain that must come. Therefore, I am looking for some door of escape; and will abandon much that I hold dear for the privilege of a quiet exit. You understand me?"

The Doctor bowed.

"Shall I go on?"

"Yes."

"Of course, I cannot obtain the privilege asked, except by yielding all this suit is designed to secure."

"Say, in the fewest and direct sentences, just what you wish to communicate, Mr. Larobe." Doctor Hofland drew himself up, and spoke with firmness. "I have passed my word of honor to betray your confidence in nothing."

"In a sentence, then, is Mr. Adam Guyton is living?" Larobe's face crimsoned slightly; and then became paler than before.

"I'm aware of that," replied the Doctor, unmoved.

"But the evidence in possession of his friends is not in all respects, complete, and may be so obscured by the testimony of witnesses on the other side, as to make the issue doubtful. I shall fight in this contest hard, and without scruple as to the means employed to gain success, for, with me everything is at stake. A desperate man, Doctor, will use desperate means. But, all doubt as to the outcome may cease, if you will. I am ready, if permitted, to retire from the field. It is to say this, that I have asked an interview."

"What are your stipulations?"

"The abandonment of this suit, on condition that I place in your hands such evidence as will, at once, restore Mr. Adam Guyton to his proper legal status."

"It is not with me, Mr. Larobe, to say yes or nay to such a proposal," replied Doctor Hofland.

"I am aware of that. But, being in possession of my offer, you may ascertain without committing me, the chances of its acceptance. It will be better, all round, I think. The outcome of the suit will go no farther, at the worst, than the establishment of Mr. Guyton's identity. I shall escape legal consequences. The loophole is open."

"What then?" asked the Doctor.

"Within twenty-four hours after I am satisfied that the suit is to be abandoned, and my surety safe, I shall retire from this city."

"Where?"

A shadow of pain swept over his face.

"I shall drop down, like a wind-blown seed, in some unknown spot," he answered, in a sad voice. "But whether the soil is rich or barren, my roots will not strike deep; for there is no vitality in me. I have played madly, in life, Doctor, risking honor, happiness, safety, everything — and I have lost! O, fool! fool!" He shivered as he said this, like one most cold.

"Something more than you have offered will be required," said the Doctor.

"What?"

"You will have to restore some twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars appropriated from the estate of Mr. Guyton."

There was a look of blank dismay in the face of Larobe.

"That demand will be cruel and oppressive," he answered. "I am not debtor in any such sum to Mr. Guyton's estate. All that I am worth, would not cover it."

"The executors under the will of Mrs. Larobe, find evidence going to prove the claim; and this evidence is in Mr. Adam Guyton's possession. Of one thing you may be sure, he will never abate one jot or tittle of the demand."

"Then, driven to the wall, there is nothing left for me but desperate battle." The eyes of Larobe were fierce with a sudden gleam. His lips drew back from his teeth. He looked savage and defiant.

"And certain defeat!" was replied. "Ah, sir! You may well affirm that you have played madly in life, as all play, who seek, through wrong, a coveted good; for in all wrong lies hidden the seeds of a just retribution, which, sooner or later, surely comes. If you give desperate battle, according to your threat, the more disastrous will be your defeat. Take my advice, and let your offer include full restitution in every particular. As I have just said, there is evidence now in Mr. Guyton's hands, going to show that you have between twenty-five and thirty thousand dollars of his estate in your possession. He is not the one to yield a farthing of his just rights; and of all other living men — you have the least title to his consideration."

For the space of nearly five minutes, Larobe sat with his eyes on the floor. Heavy lines furrowed his row — his face was rigid.

"What is the extent of your influence with Mr. Adam Guyton?" he asked, at length. His voice had regained its calmness.

"He has yielded in many things to my judgment," replied the Doctor.

"Do you think he will act according to your judgment in the matter I have presented?"

"It is impossible for me to say, Mr. Larobe."

"What do you think?"

"He may be influenced."

"What will be your course?"

"That is not decided."

Larobe had not expected this answer, as the half surprised, half alarmed expression of his face showed.

"What I have offered, will secure all that can be gained through the courts, after long delays — for, I will fight him to the last."

"Possibly you may be right in this — possibly wrong. I will give sober consideration to what you have said, and then, after sounding Mr. Guyton and his friends, see you again."

"When will you see me? I want no delays."

"Say tomorrow night."

"Very well. Tomorrow night. Will you call upon me at my office?"

"Yes."

The Doctor arose, and withdrew. Larobe did not accompany him to the door. He was too much oppressed for courtesy. When alone, he bent forward on the table at which he was sitting, with an abandoned air, letting his chest and face rest heavily down upon it. A groan parted his lips. He did not stir for a long time. Then he arose, heavily, like one who had been stunned, and moved about the office with an uncertain air. Finally, he took from an iron safe a bundle of papers — title deeds, certificates of stock, and various securities — and, spreading them out on the table, passed several hours in examining and arranging them. In this work, he was active and in earnest. It was nearly twelve o'clock when he replaced them in his safe, and throwing himself on a sofa, passed the remaining part of the night in a heavy sleep.

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