Finger Posts on the Way of Life | Page 9

name is Smith. During your former residence in this city, I was well acquainted with your husband. Permit me to offer my heartfelt sympathy in the painful bereavement you have suffered."
There was a slight pause, and then Mr. Smith resumed--
"Hearing of your return to this city, I have called to ask if there are any good offices that I can render you. If you have any plans for the future--if you want advice--if a friend in need will be of service--do not hesitate to speak freely, My high regard for your husband's memory will not suffer me to be indifferent to the welfare of his widow and children."
Mr. Smith had not purposed making, when he called, so general a tender of service. But there was something in the lady's fine countenance which told him that she had both independence and decision of character, and that he need not fear an abuse of his generous kindness.
Touched by such an unexpected declaration, it was some moments before she could reply. She then said--
"I thank you, in the name of my departed husband, for this unlooked-for and generous offer. Though back in the city, which was formerly my home, I find myself comparatively a stranger. Yesterday I made inquiry for Mr. Edward Hunter, an old and fast friend of Mr. Lloyd's, and to my pain and regret learned that he was deceased."
"Yes, madam; he died about two months ago."
"With him I purposed consulting as to my future course of action; but his death has left me without a single friend in the city to whose judgment I can confide my plans and purposes."
"Mr. Hunter was one of nature's noblemen," said Mr. Smith, warmly; "and you are not the only one who has cause to mourn his loss. But there are others in our city who are not insensible to the claims of humanity--others who, like him, sometimes let their thoughts range beyond the narrow sphere of self."
"My object in returning to this place," resumed Mrs. Lloyd, "was to get started in some safe and moderately profitable business. A short time before my husband's removal, by the death of a distant relative I fell heir to a small piece of landed property, which I recently sold in New Orleans. By the advice of my agent there, I have invested the money in fifty shares of Riverland Railroad stock, which he said I could sell here at a good advance. These shares are now in the hands of a broker, named Perkins, who is authorized to sell them at eighty-two dollars a share."
"He'll find no difficulty in doing that, ma'am. I would have taken them at eighty-three."
At this stage of the conversation, Perkins himself entered the parlour.
"Ah, Mr. Smith!" said he, "I called at your place of business this morning, but was not so fortunate as to find you in. I had fifty shares of Riverland stock, the property of Mrs. Lloyd here, which I presumed you would like to buy."
"You were not out of the way in your presumption. Have you made the sale?"
"Oh yes. Not finding you in, I saw Mr. Jones, who took the shares at a word."
"At what price?"
"Eighty-two. I have his note at sixty days for the amount, which you know is perfectly good."
"Mrs. Lloyd need not have the slightest hesitation in accepting it; and if she wishes the money, I can get it cashed for her." Then rising, he added, "I will leave you now, Mrs. Lloyd, as business requires both your attention and mine. To-morrow I will do myself the pleasure to call on you again."
As Mr. Smith bowed himself out, he noticed, more particularly, the beautiful smile of the elder daughter, whose eyes, humid from grateful emotion, were fixed on his countenance with an expression that haunted him for hours afterward.
"I hardly think that paid," was the remark of Mr. Jones, on meeting Mr. Smith some hours afterward.
"What?" asked the latter.
"Your visit to Lloyd's widow."
"Why do you say so?"
"You lost a bargain which came into my hands, and on which I could get an advance of a hundred dollars to-morrow."
"Ah, what was it?"
"Perkins had fifty shares of Riverland stock, which he was authorized to sell at eighty-two. He called on you first; but instead of being on hand, in business hours, you were off on a charity expedition. So the ripe cherry dropped into my open mouth. I told you it wouldn't pay, neighbour Smith."
"And yet it has paid, notwithstanding your prophecy," said Smith.
"It has!"
"Yes."
"In what way?"
But Mr. Smith was not disposed to cast his pearls before swine, and so evaded the direct question. He knew that his mercenary neighbour would trample under foot, with sneering contempt, any expression of the pure satisfaction he derived from what he had done--would breathe upon and obscure the picture of