University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.
William Lyttelton Esq., Attorney at Law.

Max hurried to Mr. Barlow's, and to his inexpressible
satisfaction, found that the magical coat was still unsold.
With the distrust of a man who has set his heart upon
possessing a thing—which thing, is open for emulation's
“thousand sons”—he had imagined, that the object of his
desire, might possibly escape him. Might not some
wealthy parvenu, basely taking advantage of his wealth,
have bribed Mr. Barlow by a higher offer than his own?
Might not Monsieur Pantoufle have preferred his prior
claim? Might not Mr. Barlow's house have been reduced
to ashes, while he was at his aunt's? As with a distrustful
lover, so with Max. Nothing was improbable.

He counted out to Mr. Barlow the fifteen dollars, received
the coat compactly wrapped up, and joyfully took
his way home, there to exhibit his purchase to his cousin.

Nina was sitting in the middle of the room: Max
threw the bundle on a chair and crying, “There it is!”
sprang toward the girl. But he suddenly checked himself:
Nina had a visitor.

This visitor was a tall, solemn-looking man, of twenty-five
or thirty, clad in black, with black hair, black beard,
and black eyes. He seemed to diffuse around him a
pleasant odour of law-books and dusty parchments, and
in the wrinkles around his close shut mouth, the three
tomes of the Novelli might have lain concealed. This
gentleman was no other than that Mr. William Lyttelton,
whose legal thunder had assailed Max's ears when he left

the court-house. Mr. Lyttelton was emphatically a man
of business—also a very successful and “rising” man,
further, he had been spoken of for Congress—which various
circumstances had not operated to his disfavor, with the
fair damsels of Martinsburg, who, like many damsels, of
many other places, then and now, were not averse to what
is called high reputation. Mr. Lyttelton, it is true, was
solemn, and rather dull; but he was a man of irreproachable
character; was said to have defended the rights of
more than one widow and orphan, without fee; and when
aroused was capable of no ordinary display.

What had brought this legal gentleman to see Nina,
Max was completely at a loss to understand; but he was
soon enlightened on the subject.

“I will thank you, madam,” said Mr. Lyttelton in a
sepulchral voice, after a stiff movement of his head toward
the young man, “to inform your father that I called. It
is absolutely necessary that we should have his deposition.”

“He will return in a day or two, sir,” said Nina.

“That will do, madam.”

“And I will tell him, sir.”

“You will oblige me, madam.”

Mr. Lyttelton rose.

“I have thought it unnecessary to have a summons
served upon Mr. Von Horn by the proper officer—” he
said:

“O, that is not necessary sir,” broke in Max in a business
tone, “you know it is left entirely to—”

“Pardon me for interrupting you, sir,” said Mr. Lyttelton
with the ghost of a smile, “what you say is very
just.”

“I am studying law, Mr. Lyttelton,” said Max consequentially
“and we of the profession—”

“Max, you are detaining Mr. Lyttelton,” said Nina
laughing.

“Oh, not at all,” observed that gentleman smiling;
and although he had taken his hat, he lingered a moment.

“Hum!” said Mr. Lyttleton, gravely.

Nina smiled politely, as much as to say, “Did you
speak, sir?”

“Hum!” repeated Mr. Lyttleton, looking out of the
window, “we have a very fine day, madam.”

And after this uncommon observation—for Mr. Lyttelton,
that rigid business man, most extraordinary—the
visitor took his leave.

Max burst into a laugh as soon as the door had fairly
closed.

“What a post that is!” he said.

“A post, indeed! I wish you had half his mind!”

“What mind has he? Why, for nothing but law—
law—law—”

“And is not that a very valuable sort, Mr. Impudence?”

“My dear Nina, I would thank you to recollect my
baptismal name of Maximilian, when you do me the honor
to address me. And I will add that you astonish me
by uttering such sentiments. Is law all that men have
to interest them in this world? Is a man to sleep, eat,
drink, and play law? Law is a good thing—especially
when it is for you in a case—an excellent thing; but law
is not the sole thing man was placed upon the earth to
give his thoughts and all to, my dearest Nina.”

“I'll thank you to drop that mode of addressing me,
sir.”

“Now, observe this Mr. Lyttelton,” continued Max
philosophically, “he is a mere lawyer—a walking volume
of his namesake old Coke Lyttleton. He has no idea of
any thing but declarations, statutes, pleas, replications,
rejoinders, and sur-rejoinders. The sun does not shine
for him; the birds are a vexatious interruption to his
studies, when bending over his dusty papers he hears
their singing; he does not feel in his stony heart an

emotion of pleasure, even at gazing on your lovely face,
my dear Nina. There is my quarrel with him; he is
utterly unsocial—business alone is his god—miserable
business,” said Max, as if the very word were distasteful.

“Unsocial, indeed,” said Nina, “I wonder if he did
not say it was fine weather.”

“Do you call that—”

“Has he been as polite as that to any other girl in
town?” asked Nina, forgetting completely her train of
argument.

“Why, you are setting your cap at him!” said her
cousin.

Nina laughed, and turned the conversation.

“How in the world did you get your hair powdered,”
she said.

“Monsieur Pantoufle did it—I've won my bet, charming
Nina.”

“On your honor now, Max?”

“On my honor, madam,” said Max, bowing and laying
his hand on his heart.

“Well, you do coax people! I suppose Monsieur Pantoufle
consented just to get rid of you.”

“Not at all, Nina—he insisted on it, contrary to my
wishes,” said Max, “but it seems to me there was a bet.
A box on the ears against a cap and feather. I've won.”

“Your cap is finished—look up-stairs in your room on
the table. What is in that bundle? I hav'n't asked you.”

“Look for yourself,” said Max, running up-stairs.

As Nina was opening the bundle, a knock was heard
at the door, and Mr. Hans Huddleshingle entered the
apartment.