Of late, Mr. Dewey was away from S——­more than usual, business connected with the firm of which he was a member requiring his frequent presence in New York.  He did not remain absent over two or three days at a time.

Nearly opposite to where I resided lived Mr. Joshua Kling, the Cashier of the new Clinton Bank.  He and Mr. Dewey seemed to be on particularly friendly terms.  Often I noticed the visits of Mr. Dewey to the Cashier’s house after bank hours, and many times in paying evening calls would I meet the two gentlemen, arm in arm, engaged in close conversation.

It was pretty generally understood in S——­that the Clinton Bank was in the hands or parties in New York, and that a large proportion of the discounts made were of paper bearing the endorsement of Floyd, Lawson, Lee, & Co., which was passed by the directors as the legitimate business paper received by that house in its extensive business operations; or of paper drawn to the order of John Floyd & Co., given in payment of goods manufactured at the mills in S——.  It was also generally conceded that as, through their partner, Mr. Dewey, this firm of Floyd, Lawson, Lee, & Co., had invested a large amount of capital in S——­, and by their liberality and enterprise greatly benefited the town, they were entitled to all the favors it was in the power of the bank to give; more particularly as the firm was one of great wealth—­“solid as gold”—­and the interests of the stockholders would, therefore, be best served by keeping the line of discount mainly in so safe a channel.

Now and then a disappointed storekeeper, whose small offerings were thrown out, would inveigh bitterly against the directors, calling hard names, and prophesying “a grand explosion one of these days;” but these invectives and predictions hardly ever found a repetition beyond the narrow limits of his place of business.

And so the splendid schemes of Ralph Dewey and Company went on prospering, while he grew daily in self-importance, and in offensive superciliousness toward men from whom he had nothing to expect.  In my own case I had little to complain of, as my contact with him was generally professional, and under circumstances that caused a natural deference to my skill as a physician.

Nothing out of the ordinary range of things transpired until towards Christmas, when my wife received a note from Mrs. Dewey, asking her as a special favor to call at the Allen House.  She was there in half an hour after the note came to hand.

I was at home when she returned, and saw the moment I looked into her face that she had been the witness of something that had moved her deeply.

“Is anything wrong with Mrs. Dewey?” I asked.

“Yes.”  Her countenance took on a more serious aspect.

“In what respect?”

“The story cannot be told in a sentence.  I received a note from her as you are aware.  Its earnest brevity forewarned me that the call involved something of serious import; and I was not mistaken in this conclusion.  On calling, and asking for Mrs. Dewey, I noticed an air of irresolution about the servant.  ‘Mrs. Dewey is not well,’ she said, ‘and I hardly think can see company to-day.’