he principal parties thereto on the basis of a fair
division, without the delay, vexation, expense, and bitterness of a
prolonged lawsuit. By this division, the father of Mr. Tomlinson
retained possession of five hundred acres, and the grandfather of Mr.
Allison of the other five hundred. The former had greatly improved the
portion into the full possession of which he had come, as it was by far
the most beautiful and fertile part of his estate. His old residence
was torn down, and a splendid mansion erected on a commanding eminence
within the limits of this old disputed land, at a cost of nearly eighty
thousand dollars, and the whole of the five hundred acres gradually
brought into a high state of cultivation. To meet the heavy outlay for
all this, other and less desirable portions of the estate were sold,
until, finally, only about three hundred acres of the original
Tomlinson property remained.

Mr. Lloyd Tomlinson, as he advanced in years, and felt the paralyzing
effects of the severe afflictions he had suffered, lost much of the
energy he had possessed in his younger days. There was a gradual
diminution in the number of hogsheads of tobacco and bushels of corn
and wheat that went into Richmond from his plantation annually; and
there was also a steady decrease in the slave population with which he
was immediately surrounded. From a hundred and fifty, his slaves had
decreased, until he only owned thirty, and with them did little more
than make his yearly expenses. Field after field had been abandoned,
and left to a fertile undergrowth of pines or scrubby oaks, until there
were few signs of cultivation, except within the limits of two or three
hundred acres of the rich lands contiguous to his dwelling.

Henry Denton, the young attorney to whom allusion has been made, had
become deeply enamoured with Edith Tomlinson, who was often met by him
in her unaristocratic intercourse with several excellent and highly
intelligent families in the neighbourhood. To see her, was for him to
love her; but the pride of her father was too well known by him to
leave much room for hope that the issue of his passion would be
successful, even if so fortunate as to win the heart of the maiden. He
was inspired with courage, however, by the evident favour with which
she regarded him, and even tempted to address her in language that no
woman's ear could mistake--the language of love. Edith listened with a
heart full of hope and fear. She had g