o
him Mr Brandon went one day, and said: "Israel, I want you to go to
work on the fence rows on my side of the road to Howlett's. Grub up
the bushes, clear out the vines and weeds, and see that the rails and
posts are all in order. That will be a job that I expect will last you
until the roads begin to get heavy. And, by the way, Israel, while you
are at work, I want you to keep a lookout for any visitors that may
turn into our road, especially if they happen to be ladies. Now that
Miss Rob is away, I am very particular about knowing, beforehand, when
ladies are coming to visit me; and when you see any wagon or carriage
turn in, I want you to make a short cut across the fields, and let me
know it, and I will give you a quarter of a dollar every time you do
so." This was a very pleasant job of work for the meditative Israel.
He was not very fond of grubbing, but he earned the greater part of
his ten dollars a month and rations, by sitting on the fence, smoking
a corn-cob pipe, and attending to the second division of the work
which his employer had set him to do.
Lawrence Croft was in New York at this time, a very busy man,
arranging his affairs in that city, so that they would not need
his personal attention for some time to come; he sub-let, for the
remainder of his lease, the suite of bachelor apartments he had
occupied, and he stored his furniture and books. One might have
imagined that he was taking in all possible sails; close reefing the
others; battening down the hatches; and preparing to run before a
storm; and yet his demeanor did not indicate that he expected any
violent commotion of the elements. On the contrary, his friends and
acquaintances thought him particularly blithe and gay. He told them he
was going to be married.
"To that Virginia lady, I suppose," said one. "I remember her very
well; and consider you fortunate."
"I don't think you ever met her," said Mr Croft. "She is a Miss
Peyton, from King Thomas County."
"Ah!" remarked his interlocutor. Lawrence walked to the window of the
club-room, and stood there, slowly puffing his cigar. Had anybody met
this one? he thought. He knew she had seen but little company during
her father's life, but was it likely that any of his acquaintances had
had business at Candy's Information Shop? As this idea came into his
mind, there seemed to be something unpleasant in the taste of his
cigar, and he threw it into the fire. A few turns, however, up and
down the
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