events we have just related.
Indeed, his first sensations were those of actual bewilderment as he
opened his eyes, and beheld the pine-clad mountains rising in endless
succession; the deep glens; the gushing streams, crossed by rude bridges
of a single tree; the rustic saw-mills all dripping with spray. And
trembling with the force of their own machinery. Where was he? What
strange land was this? How came he there? Was this in reality the "new
world beyond the seas" Davis had so often described to him? By a slow,
laborious process, like filtering, stray memories dropped, one by one,
through his clouded faculties; and, at length, he remembered the scene
of the preceding night, and all that had passed between Davis and
himself. Yet, withal, there was much of doubt and uncertainty mixed up,
nor could he, by any effort, satisfy himself how much was fact, how much
mere speculation. Was it true that Lackington was to lose his peerage?
Was it possible such a dreadful blow was to fall on their house? If
so, what portion of the estates would follow the title? Would a great
part--would all the property be transferred to the new claimant? What
length of time, too, might the suit occupy?--such things often lasted
for years upon years. Was it too late for a compromise? Could not some
arrangement be come to "some way"? Grog was surely the man to decree
a plan for this; at all events, he could protract and spin out
proceedings. "It's not p.p.; the match may never come off," muttered
Beecher, "and I 'll back old Grog to 'square it' _somehow_."

And then the bills, the forged acceptances,--they were actually burned
before his face! It was well-nigh incredible; but he had seen them, held
them in his own hand, and watched them as the night wind wafted
away their blackened embers never more to rise in judgment against
him,--never to cost him another night of sleepless terror! Who would
have believed Davis capable of such magnanimity? Of all men living, he
had deemed him the last to forego any hold over another; and then
the act was his own spontaneous doing, without reservation, without
condition.

Beecher's heart swelled proudly as he thought over this trait of his
friend. Was it that he felt a sense of joy in believing better of
mankind? Was it that it awoke within his breast more hopeful thoughts of
his fellow-men? Did it appeal to him like a voice, saying, "Despair of
no man; there are touches of kindliness in natures the very roughe