I passed hours teeming with strange emotions among hose cedars.  Twice I knelt by Grace’s grave, and prayed devoutly to God.  It seemed to me that petitions offered in such a place must be blessed.  I thought of my mother, of my manly, spirited father, of Grace, and of all the past.  Then I lingered long beneath Lucy’s window, and, in spite of this solemn visit to the graves of the dead, the brightest and most vivid image that I carried away with me was of the living.

Chapter X.

Shy.  Three thousand ducats—­well. Bass.  Ay, sir, for three months. Shy.  For three months—­well. Bass For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall become bound. Shy.  Antonio shall become bound—­well.

  Merchant of Venice.

I found John Wallingford in town, awaiting my appearance.  He had taken lodgings at the City Hotel, on purpose to be under the same roof with me, and we occupied adjoining rooms.  I dined with him; and after dinner he went with me to take a look at the Dawn.  The second-mate told me that Marble had made a flying visit to the ship, promised to be back again in a few days, and disappeared.  By comparing dates, I ascertained that he would be in time to meet the mortgage sale, and felt no further concern in that behalf.

“Miles,” said John Wallingford, coolly, as we were walking up Pine street, on our way back towards the tavern, “did you not tell me you employed Richard Harrison as a legal adviser?”

“I did.  Mr. Hardinge made me acquainted with him, and I understand he is one of the oldest lawyers in the country.  That is his office, on the other side of the street—­here, directly opposite.”

“I saw it, and that was the reason I spoke.  It might be well just to step in and give some directions about your will.  I wish to see Clawbonny put in the right line.  If you would give me a deed of it for one dollar, I would not take it from you, the only son of an eldest son; but it would break my heart to hear of its going out of the name.  Mr. Harrison is also an old adviser and-friend of mine.”

I was startled with this plain-dealing; yet, there was something about the manner of the man that prevented my being displeased.

“Mr. Harrison would not be visible at this hour, but I will cross to the office, and write him a letter on the subject,” I answered, doing as I said on the instant, and leaving John Wallingford to pursue his way to the house alone.  The next day, however, the will was actually drawn up, executed, and placed in my cousin’s hands, he being the sole executor.  If the reader should ask me why I did this, especially the last, I might be at a loss to answer.  A strange confidence had come over me, as respects this relative, whose extraordinary frankness even a more experienced man might have believed to be either the height of honesty, or the perfection of art.  Whichever