“I have,” said the old man, as if talking to himself, “I have gathered together large sums.  I scarcely know the exact amount myself.  There is principal, interest, and compound interest, still heaping up the pile.  I do not intend it shall be squabbled over when I am in the dust, or left open to the rapacity of lawyers.  I shall dispose of my concerns while I have reason and health, in such a way, by Heaven! as Heaven itself cannot interfere with my plans!”

Why did not that boastful, gold-withered, shrivelled up old man, pause?  How dare he throw such defiance in the face of Almighty God over his unrighteous gains!—­yes, unrighteous gains, for mammon held them in trust.  None had ever gone into the treasure-house of God to relieve the suffering, or aid the indignant.  The few good acts of his life had been wrested from him, and the recollection of them filled him with bitterness instead of joy.

“That is wise and prudent, sir,” observed Mr. Jerrold.

“Of course it is.  But now to the point.  I will take you into partnership on condition that you, as my successor, marry my niece, Helen Stillinghast, and promise on your honor to endeavor to overcome her Catholic tendencies.  She is not very strong in her faith, but as I intend to leave her a considerable amount of property, I do not wish it to go to the support of a creed I detest—­not one copper of it.  What do you say?”

“What amount of capital do you require, Mr. Stillinghast?”

“Whatever you have, sir.  If it is much, well; if nothing, it makes no difference:  but, do you hesitate?  I suppose the girl is an obstacle.”

“None in the least, sir.  But I am overwhelmed by your generosity, sir; the advantages you offer place me in a position which it would have taken me years of toil to attain, and I must confess, that I am quite thrown off my balance.  Will you allow me at least a few hours to think?” said Walter Jerrold, highly excited.

“Your caution is no discredit to you.  I see that I am not deceived,” said Mr. Stillinghast, with a grim smile.  “To-morrow evening I shall expect an answer; at which time you can come to my house, and take your tea, and look at my niece.”

“You will certainly see me then, sir, and hear my decision.”  And the young man, with steps that scarcely felt the earth he trod on, hurried away, nor paused an instant, until he reached home.  Mrs. Jerrold was standing on her marble carriage-step, just ready to get into her luxurious coach to take a drive.  He whispered a word or two to her; the carriage was dismissed, and mother and son went up stairs to analyze the sudden promise of fortune which had burst, like the bow of heaven, around them.  And together we will leave them—­the worldly mother and the worldly son, to grow elate, and almost wild, at the prospect which Mr. Stillinghast’s eccentric liberality had opened to their view.  At any rate, it was eligible in every respect, with, or without a matrimonial appendage; and Cedar Hall was secured to the Jerrolds.