something unquiet tugging at his conscience, which
did not allow him to do so. He paused frequently, with his pen poised
over his inkstand, or paper, and fell into reveries, which ended with
expressions which burst out like shots from a revolver. It was now
"Pshaw!" then, "I hate it worse than I do the synagogue;" or, "it is
_not_ injustice! Have I not a right to do as I please with my own
property?" and "I'll do it as sure as my name is Mark Stillinghast."

"Mr. Jerrold was away at bank, sir," said the porter, who had returned;
"and, sir, I left the note."

"All right, Michael. _Business_ is the master we must serve first, and
best. Hoist out those bales there ready to ship."

"The devil 'll fly away wid that ould haythen some of these days! I
should like to know intirely if he ever hard of the day of judgment and
the Master that's to take an account of how _he's_ been sarved. I
reckon, bedad, he'll find out thin, if not sooner, that he's the one
that ought to had a little waitin' on," muttered Michael, rolling out a
heavy bale of cotton.

Ere long Mr. Jerrold, anxious to conciliate the millionnaire, and full
of curiosity, did not lose a minute after he read the note in going to
him.

"Good morning sir. I hope I have not kept you waiting," he said,
holding out his hand to Mr. Stillinghast.

"No, sir; you are in very good time," he replied, shaking hands, and
offering his guest a chair. "I see that you are not one who will let
grass grow under your feet."

"I have my fortune to make, sir," replied the young man, laughing; "but
can I serve you in any way, Mr. Stillinghast?"

"Michael! No, sir--no-- Here Michael!" cried Mr. Stillinghast.

"Here, sir," answered the porter at the door.

"I wish to have a private conversation with this gentleman, and do not
want to be interrupted; do you hear?"

"Bedad, sir, I'm not deaf no more than the next one; but suppose
somebody comes to pay up rents, et cetera?"

"Well--well, they can wait," he replied.

"And supposin' they _won't_?" persisted Michael.

"In that case, rap at my door, and I will come out. Now, be off."

"I never waste time, Mr. Jerrold," said Mr. Stillinghast, after he had
closed the door, and resumed his seat; "I never waste any thing--time
or words. I am blunt and candid, and aboveboard. I hate the world
generally, because I have been deceived in every thing I ever placed
faith in. I am a bitter, harsh, penurious old man."

"Your l