University of Virginia Library

16. CHAPTER XVI.

Winter's Tale.

When Hazlehurst arrived at the little village in the neighbourhood
of Greatwood, he was so fortunate as to find that
many persons among the older members of the community,
had a perfect recollection of William Stanley, and were ready
to testify, to the best of their knowledge, as to any particulars
that might be of service in the case.

His first inquiry was, for the young man's nurse. He
discovered that she had recently removed into a neighbouring
state, with the son, in whose family she had lived since
leaving the Stanleys. As soon as Harry had accompanied
Mrs. Stanley to Greatwood, he set out in pursuit of this
person, from whom he hoped to obtain important evidence.
On arriving at the place where she was not to be found, he
was much disappointed, for her faculties had been so much
impaired by a severe attack of paralysis, that he could learn
but little from her. She seemed to have cherished a warm
affection for the memory of William Stanley, whose loss at
sea she had never doubted. Whenever his name was mentioned
she wept, and she spoke with feeling and respect of
the young man's parents. But her mind was much confused,
and it was impossible to make any use of her testimony
in a court of justice.

Thus thrown back upon those who had a less intimate
personal knowledge of the young man, Harry pursued his
inquiries among the families about Greatwood, and the village
of Franklin Cross-Roads. With the exception of a few newcomers,
and those who were too young to recollect eighteen
years back, almost everybody in the neighbourhood had had

some acquaintance with William Stanley. He had been to
school with this one; he had sat in church, in the pew next
to that family; he had been the constant playfellow of A—;
and he had drawn B— into more than one scrape. Numerous
stories sprang up right and left, as to his doings when
a boy; old scenes were acted over again, and past events,
mere trifles perhaps at the time, but gaining importance from
she actual state of things, were daily brought to light; there
seemed no lack of information connected with the subject.

We must observe, however, before we proceed farther, that
Hazlehurst had no sooner arrived at Greatwood, than he went
to look after the set of the Spectator, to which the volume produced
at the interview had belonged. He found the books
in their usual place on an upper shelf, with others seldom
used; every volume had the double names of Mr. Stanley
and his son, but the set was not complete; there was not only
one volume missing, but two were wanting! Hazlehurst
sprang from the steps on which he was standing, when he
made this discovery, and went immediately in pursuit of Mrs.
Stanley, to inquire if she knew which volume was originally
missing. She could not be sure, but she believed it was the
eighth. Such was the fact; the eighth volume was not in
its place, neither was the sixth, that which Mr. Clapp had
in his possession; yet Mrs. Stanley was convinced, that only
two years previously, there had been but one volume lost.
Harry tried to revive his recollection of the time and place,
when and where, he had read that volume, with the portrait
of Steele, and Addison's papers on the Paradise Lost; he
should have felt sure it was at Greatwood, not long before
going abroad with Mr. Henley, had it not been, that he found
his brother had the very same edition in Philadelphia, and
he might have read it there. He also endeavoured to discover
when and how the second missing volume had been
removed from its usual place on the shelf. But this was no
easy task; neither the housekeeper—a respectable woman,
in whom Mrs. Stanley and himself had perfect confidence—

nor the servants, could form even a surmise upon the subject.
At last Harry thought he had obtained a clue to everything;
he found that two strangers had been at Greatwood in the
month of March, that year, and had gone over the whole
house, representing themselves as friends of the family.
The housekeeper had forgotten their visit, until Harry's inquiries
reminded her of the fact; she then gave him the
name of the young woman who had gone over the house
with these two individuals. This girl was no longer at
Greatwood, but in the neighbouring village; at Mrs. Stanley's
request, however, she came to give a report of the circumstance.

“It was in March these two strangers were here, you say,
Malvina?” observed Mrs. Stanley.

“Yes, ma'am; it was in March, when the roads were
very bad.”

“What sort of looking persons were they, and how old
should you have called them?” asked Hazlehurst.

“One was a tall and slim gentleman, with curly hair; the
other looked kind o'rough, he was stout, and had a red face;
they wasn't very young, nor very old.”

“Tell us, if you please, all you remember about their
visit, just as it passed,” said Harry.

“Well, it happened Mrs. Jones was sick in her room when
they called; they wanted to see the house, saying they knew
the family very well. I asked them to sit down in the hall,
while I went to tell Mrs. Jones; she hadn't any objections,
and told me to show them the rooms they wanted to see.
So I took them over the house—first parlours, then the
other rooms.”

“Did they ask to see the bed-rooms?”

“Yes, sir; they went over all the house but the garret;
they went into the kitchen and the pantry.”

“Did they stay some time?”

“Yes, sir; Mrs. Jones wondered they staid so long.”

“Did they go into the library?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you remember whether they looked at the books?”

“No; they didn't stay more than a minute in the library.”

“Are you sure they did not look at any of the books?”
repeated Harry.

“I am quite sure they didn't, for the room was too dark,
and they only staid half-a-minute. I asked them if I should
open the shutters; but one of them said they didn't care; he
said he was never over-fond of books.”

Mrs. Stanley and Harry here exchanged looks of some
surprise.

“Did they talk much to each other?—do you remember
what they said?” continued Harry.

“Yes, they talked considerable. I reckon they had been
here before, for they seemed to know a good deal about the
house. When I showed them the south parlour, the gentleman
with the red face said everything looked natural to him,
but that room most of all; then he pointed to the large chair
by the fire-place, and said: `That is where I last saw my
father, in that very chair; he was a good old gentleman, and
deserved to have a better son.”'

“Is it possible!” exclaimed Mrs. Stanley.

“But, my dear madam, it was all acting no doubt; they
wished to pass for the characters they have since assumed;
it only proves that the plot has been going on for some time.”
“Do you remember anything else that was said?” added
Hazlehurst, turning again to the girl.

“They talked considerable, but I didn't pay much attention.
They inquired when Mr. Hazlehurst was coming
home; I said I didn't know. The one with the curly hair
said he guessed they knew more about the family than I did;
and he looked queer when he said so.”

Nothing further was gathered from this girl, who bore an
excellent character for truth and honesty, though rather stupid.
The volume of the Spectator still remained as much a mystery
as ever. Nor did a second conversation with this young

woman bring to light anything new; her answers on both
occasions corresponded exactly; and beyond proving the fact
of Clapp's having been over the house with the sailor, nothing
was gained from her report. At the second conversation,
Harry asked if she knew whether these strangers had
remained long in the neighbourhood?

“I saw them the next day at meeting,” she replied, “and
Jabez told me he met them walking about the place; that is
all I know about it, sir.”

Jabez, one of the men on the farm, was questioned: he
had seen these two strangers walking about the place, looking
at the barns and stables, the same day they had been at the
house; but he had not spoken to them; and this was the
amount of his story.

Harry then inquired at the taverns in the neighbourhood;
and he found that two persons, answering to the same description,
had staid a couple of days, about the middle of
March, at a small inn, within half a mile from Greatwood.
Their bill had been made out in the name of “Mr. Clapp
and friend.” This was satisfactory as far as it went, and
accounted for the sailor's knowledge of the house; though
Mrs. Stanley could not comprehend at first, how this man
should have pointed out so exactly, her husband's favourite
seat. Harry reminded her, however, that Clapp had passed
several years of his youth at Franklin Cross-Roads, in a
lawyer's office, and had very probably been at Greatwood
during Mr. Stanley's life-time.

Hazlehurst had drawn up a regular plan of action for his
inquiries; and after having discovered who could assist him,
and who could not, he portioned off the neighbourhood into
several divisions, intending to devote a day to each—calling
at every house where he hoped to gain information on the
subject of William Stanley.

He set out on horseback early in the morning, for his first
day's circuit, taking a note-book in his pocket, to record facts
as he went along, and first turning his horse's head towards

the house of Mrs. Lawson, who had been a constant play-fellow
of William Stanley's, when both were children. This
lady was one of a large family, who had been near neighbours
of the Stanleys for years, and on terms of daily intimacy
with them; and she had already told Harry, one day
when she met him in the village, that she held herself in
readiness to answer, to the best of her ability, any questions
about her former playmate, that he might think it worth while
to ask. On knocking at this lady's door, he was so fortunate
as to find Mrs. Lawson at home; and, by especial luck, Dr.
Lewis, a brother of her's, who had removed from that part
of the country, happened just then to be on a visit at his
sister's.

After a little preliminary chat, Hazlehurst made known
the particular object of his call.

“Do I remember William Stanley's personal appearance
and habits? Perfectly; quite as well as I do my own brother's,”
replied the doctor, to Harry's first inquiry.

“Mrs. Lawson told me that he used to pass half his time
at your father's house, and kindly offered to assist me, as far
as lay in her power; and I look upon myself as doubly fortunate
in finding you here to-day. We wish, of course, to
collect as many minute details as possible, regarding Mr.
Stanley's son, as we feel confident, from evidence already in
our power, that this new-comer is an impostor.”

“No doubt of it,” replied the doctor; “an extravagant
story, indeed! Nearly eighteen years as still as a mouse,
and then coolly stepping in, and claiming a property worth
some hundreds of thousands. A clear case of conspiracy,
without doubt.”

“Poor William was no saint, certainly,” added Mrs. Lawson;
“but this sailor must be a very bad man.”

“Pray, when did you last see young Stanley?” asked
Harry, of the lady.

“When he was at home, not long before his father's death.
He held out some promise of reforming, then. Billings,

who first led him into mischief, was not in the neighbourhood
at that time, and his father had hopes of him; but some of
his old companions led him off again.”

“He must have been a boy of strange temper, to leave
home under such circumstances; an only son, with such
prospects before him.”

“Yes, his temper was very unpleasant; but then, Mr.
Stanley, the father, did not know how to manage him.”

“He could scarcely have had much sense either, to have
been so easily led astray by a designing young fellow, as
that Billings seems to have been.”

“Flattery; flattery did it all,” observed the doctor. “Some
people thought young Stanley little more than half-witted;
but I have always maintained that he was not wanting in
sense.”

“I don't see how you can say so, doctor,” observed the
sister. I am sure it was a settled thing among us children,
that he was a very stupid, disagreeable boy. He never took
much interest in our plays, I remember.”

“Not in playing doll-baby, perhaps; but I have had many
a holiday with him that I enjoyed very much, I can tell you.
He never had a fancy for a book, that is true; but otherwise
he was not so very dull as some people make out.”

“He had the reputation of being a dull boy, had he?”

“Oh, certainly,” said Mrs. Lawson. “At one time, when
we were quite children, we all took arithmetic lessons together,
and he was always at the foot of the class.”

“He had no head for figures, perhaps; it is more likely,
though, that he wouldn't learn out of obstinacy; he was as
obstinate as a mule, that I allow.”

“What sort of games and plays did he like best?”

“I don't know that he liked one better than another, so
long as he could choose himself,” replied Dr. Lewis.

“Was he a strong, active boy?”

“Not particularly active, but a stout, healthy lad.”

“Disposed to be tall?”

“Tallish: the last time he was here, he must have measured
about five feet ten.”

“Oh, more than that,” interposed Mrs. Lawson; “he was
taller than our eldest brother, I know—full six feet one, I
should say.”

“No, no, Sophia; certainly not more than five feet nine
or ten. Remember, you were a little thing yourself at the
time.”

“Do you remember the colour of his eyes, Mrs. Lawson?”

“Yes, perfectly; they were blue.”

“Brown, I should say,” added the doctor.

“No, John, you are quite mistaken; his eyes were blue,
Mr. Hazlehurst—very dark blue.”

“I could have taken my oath they were brown,” said the
doctor.

Hazlehurst looked from one to the other in doubt.

“You were away from home, doctor, more than I was, and
probably do not remember William's face as distinctly as I
do. I am quite confident his eyes were a clear, deep blue.”

“Well, I should have called them a light brown.”

“Were they large?” asked Harry.

“Of a common size, I think,” said the brother.

“Remarkably small, I should say,” added the sister.

“What colour was his hair?” asked Harry, giving up the
eyes.

“Black,” said the doctor.

“Not black, John—dark perhaps, but more of an auburn,
like his father's portrait,” said Mrs. Lawson.

“Why, that is black, certainly.”

“Oh, no; auburn—a rich, dark auburn.”

“There is a greyish cast in that portrait, I think,” said
Harry.

“Grey, oh, no; Mr. Stanley's hair was in perfect colour
when he died; I remember him distinctly, seeing him as
often as I did,” said the lady. “The hair of the Stanley
family is generally auburn,” she added.

“What do you call auburn?” said the doctor.

“A dark, rich brown, like William Stanley's.”

“Now I call Mr. Robert Hazlehurst's hair auburn.”

“My brother's hair! Why that is sometimes pronounced
sandy, and even red, occasionally,” said Harry.

“Not red; Lawson's hair is red.”

“Mr. Lawson's hair is more of a flaxen shade,” said the
wife, a little quickly.

Despairing of settling the particular shade of the hair,
Harry then inquired if there was any strongly marked peculiarity
of face or person about William Stanley?

Here both agreed that they had never remarked anything
of the kind; it appeared that the young man was made
more like the rest of the world, than became the hero of such
a singular career.

“Do you think you should know him, if you were to see
him again, after such a long interval?”

“Well, I don't know,” said the doctor; “some people
change very much, from boys to middle-aged manhood, others
alter but little.”

“I have no doubt that I could tell in a moment, if this
person is William Stanley or an impostor,” said Mrs. Lawson.
“Think how much we were together, as children; for ten
years of his life, he was half the time at our house. I am
sure if this sailor were William Stanley, he would have
come to see some of us, long since.”

“Did he visit you when he was last at Greatwood?”

“No, he did not come at that time; but I saw him very
often in the village, and riding about.”

“Do you remember his stuttering at all?”

“No; I never heard him that I know of; I don't believe
he ever stuttered.”

“He did stutter once in a while, Sophia, when he was in
a passion.”

“I never heard him.”

“Young Stanley had one good quality, Mr. Hazlehurst,

with all his faults; he spoke the truth—you could believe
what he said.”

“My good brother, you are mistaken there, I can assure
you. Time and again have I known him tell falsehoods
when he got into a scrape; many is the time he has coaxed
and teased, till he got us children into mischief—he was a
great tease, you know—”

“Not more so than most boys,” interposed the doctor.

“And after he had got us into trouble, I remember perfectly,
that he would not acknowledge it was his fault. Oh,
no; you could not by any means depend upon what he said.”

“Was he much of a talker?”

“No, rather silent.”

“Quite silent:” both brother and sister were in unison
here, at last.

“He was good-looking, you think, Mrs. Lawson?”

“Oh, yes, good-looking, certainly,” replied the lady.

“Rather good-looking; but when he was last at home, his
features had grown somewhat coarse, and his expression was
altered for the worse,” said the doctor.

“He was free with his money, I believe?”

“Very extravagant,” said Mrs. Lawson.

“He didn't care a fig for money, unless it was refused
him,” said the doctor.

“Was there anything particular about his teeth?”

“He had fine teeth,” said Mrs. Lawson; “but he did not
show them much.”

“A good set of teeth, if I remember right,” added the
doctor.

“His complexion was rather dark, I believe?” said Harry.

“More sallow than dark,” said the lady.

“Not so very sallow,” said the gentleman.

“You asked just now about his eyes, Mr. Hazlehurst; it
strikes me they were much the colour of yours.”

“But mine are grey,” said Harry.

“More of a hazel, I think.”

“Oh, no; William Stanley's eyes were as different as
possible from Mr. Hazlehurst's, in colour and shape!” exclaimed
the lady.

The conversation continued some time longer, but the
specimen just given will suffice to show its character; nothing
of importance was elicited, and not one point decidedly settled,
which had not been already known to Harry. He continued
his round of visits throughout the day, with much the same
result. The memories of the people about Greatwood seemed
to be playing at cross-purposes; and yet there was no doubt,
that all those persons to whom Hazlehurst applied, had known
young Stanley for years; and there was every reason to
believe they were well disposed to give all the evidence in
their power.

From Mrs. Lawson's, Harry went to the house of another
acquaintance, a Captain Johnson; and the following is the
amount of what he gathered here, as it was hastily entered
in his note-book:

“Eyes grey; hair black; rather stout for his age; sullen
temper; very dull; bad company cause of his ruin; not
cold-hearted; stuttered a little when excited; expression good
when a boy, but much changed when first came home from
sea; Billings the cause of his ruin.”

So much for Captain Johnson. The next stopping-place
was at a man's, by the name of Hill, who had been coachman
at Mr. Stanley's for several years; his account follows:

“Hill says: `Would get in a passion when couldn't have
his own way; have heard him stutter; always in some scrape
or other after first went to college; eyes blue; hair brown;
sharp enough when he pleased, but always heard he hated
books; short for his age when first went to sea, and thin;
had grown three or four inches when he came back; should
have thought him five feet eight or nine, when last saw him;
face grown fuller and red, when came home.”'

From Hill's, Harry went to see Mr. Anderson, who had

kept the principal tavern at Franklin Cross-Roads, during
William Stanely's boyhood; but he was not at home.

He then called at Judge Stone's: “Mrs. S. thought him
handsome young man; judge, quite ugly; husband says
eyes a greenish colour; wife thinks were dark brown; height
about my own, said judge; not near so tall, says Mrs. S.:
both agreed he was morose in temper, and dull at learning.”

At several other places where Harry called, he found that
William Stanley had been merely known by sight. Others
related capital stories of scrapes, in which they had been
implicated with the boy, but could tell Harry very little to
the purpose, where it came to particular questions. Three
individuals pronounced him tall, four thought he was middle-sized,
two declared he was short. Two inferences, however,
might be drawn from all that had been said: William Stanley
must have been of an unpleasant temper; while general evidence
pronounced him rather more dull than most boys.
With these two facts at least sufficiently well established,
while his head was filled with contradictory visions, of hair
eyes, and complexion, of various shades and colours, Harry
returned in the evening, quite jaded and worn-out with his
day's exertions; not the least of which had been, to reconcile
totally opposite accounts on a dozen different points.

Mrs. Stanley was awaiting his return with much anxiety;
and while Harry was drinking an excellent cup of tea—the
most refreshing thing in the world to a person who is fatigued,
even in warm weather—he reported his day's work. His
friend seemed to think the account anything but encouraging;
though Harry declared, that it was well worth the labour and
vexation to establish the two facts, regarding the young man's
capacity and temper, in which respects he certainly differed
from the claimant.

“What miserable hypocrites both this man and his lawyer
must be!” exclaimed Mrs. Stanley.

“Hypocrisy figures often enough in courts of justice,
ma'am, and is only too often successful for a time.”

“I am afraid, my dear Harry, they will give you a great
deal of trouble!”

“I have no doubt of it,” replied Hazlehurst; “but still I
hope to defeat them, and in the end, to punish their vile conspiracy.”

“A defeat would be distressing to both Mr. Wyllys and
myself; but to you, my dear young friend, it would be
serious indeed!” she observed, with feeling.

“We shall yet gain the day, I trust,” said Harry. “The
consequences of defeat would indeed be very serious to me,”
he added. “In such a case I should lose everything, and a
little more, as Paddy would say. I made a deliberate calculation
the other day, and I find, after everything I own has
been given up, that there would still be a debt of some thirty
thousand dollars to pay off.”

“It is wise, I suppose, to be prepared for the worst,” said
Mrs. Stanley, sadly; “but in such a case, Harry, you must
look to your friends. Remember, that I should consider it a
duty to assist you, in any pecuniary difficulties which might
result from a defeat.”

“You are very good, ma'am; I am grateful for the offer.
In case of our failure, I should certainly apply to my immediate
friends, for I could never bear the thought of being in
debt to those rascals. But if the affair turns out in that way,
I must stay at home and work hard, to clear myself entirely.
I am young, and if we fail to repel this claim, still I shall
hope by industry and prudence, to discharge all obligations
before I am many years older.”

“I have never doubted, Harry, that in either case you
would do what is just and honourable; but I mourn that
there should be any danger of such a sacrifice.”

“It would be a sacrifice, indeed; including much that I
have valued heretofore—tastes, habits, partialities, prospects,
fortune, hopes—all must undergo a change, all must be
sacrificed.”

“And hopes are often a precious part of a young man's
portion,” said Mrs. Stanley.

Hazlehurst happened to raise his eyes as she spoke, and,
from the expression of her face, he fancied that she was
thinking of Mrs. Creighton. He changed colour, and remained
silent a moment.

“You would be compelled to give up your connexion
with Mr. Henley,” she observed, by way of renewing the
conversation.

“Yes, of course; I should have to abandon that, I could
not afford it; I should have to devote myself to my profession.
I have no notion, however, of striking my colours to these
land-pirates until after a hard battle, I assure you,” he said,
more cheerfully. “Great generals always prepare for a retreat,
and so shall I, but only as the last extremity. Indeed,
I think our affairs look more encouraging just now. It seems
next to impossible, for such a plot to hold together in all its
parts; we shall be able probably, to find out more than one
weak point which will not bear an attack.”

“It is certainly important to establish the difference in
temper and capacity, between the claimant and William
Stanley,” said Mrs. Stanley.

“Highly important; Ellsworth is hard at work, too, in
tracing the past life of the sailor, and by his last letters, I
find he had written to young Stanley's school-master, and to
the family physician. He had seen the sailor, and in addition
to Mr. Wyllys's remarks upon his gait, which is different
from that of William when a boy, Ellsworth writes,
that he was very much struck with the shape of the man's
limbs, so different from those of the portrait of Mr. Stanley's
son, when a lad, which they have at Wyllys-Roof; he thinks
the family physician may help him there; fortunately, he is
still living.”

“It is a great pity the nurse's faculties should have failed!”
exclaimed Mrs. Stanley.

“Yes, it's a pity, indeed; her evidence would have been
very important. But we shall do without her, I hope.”

“Are you going to Wyllys-Roof again, before the trial?”

“No; I shall have too much to do, here and in Philadelphia.
Mr. Wyllys has kindly asked me, however, to go
there, as soon as the matter is settled, whether for good or
for evil.”

“I thought I heard you talking over with Mr. de Vaux,
some boating excursion, to take place in August, from Longbridge;
has it been given up?”

“Not given up; but de Vaux very good-naturedly proposed
postponing it, until after my affairs were settled. It is
to take place as soon as I am ready; whether I shall join it
with flying colours, or as a worsted man, time alone can
decide.”

The mail was just then brought in; as usual there was a
letter for Harry, from Ellsworth.