CHAPTER VIII.

THE LOVE-LETTER--DISCUSSION--A QUICK RIDE--TOO LATE--VIOLENCE
AND DEATH.

Dr. Goodrich's cosey office, situated on the corner of Second and
Centre Streets, in the village of Pendleton, was a convenient lounging
place for Edward Sherman, and it so happened that on the very day that
Little Wolf had dispatched her messenger, he had repaired thither to
read his newspapers and letters, smoke cigars, and indulge in the
comfort which a confidential chat with a friend, generally affords to
a companionable mind.

"See here, Doctor," said he, depositing the bundle of mail matter on
the office table, and seating himself in an arm-chair beside it.

"Anything for me?" said the Doctor, who was busy arranging some
papers.

"A letter from _her_," said Edward, with slow, droll emphasis.

"Really, Ned, that is decidedly cool. How long do you propose to make
me wait for it?"

"Help yourself, Doctor. It's there among the papers," said Edward,
lighting a cigar.

Occasionally, Edward glanced over the top of his newspaper to observe
the animated countenance of his friend, as he perused the lines traced
by the hand of love.

Having thus marked his progress to the end, he enquired, "Now, Doctor,
what says my little sister?"

"She says, Ned, 'this is now the middle of Autumn.'"

"O, is that _all_?"

"Well, the next in order is,'and mother is expecting Edward home
soon.'"

"That is just what I have been expecting to hear for a week past,
Doctor. You know I have made my success with Miss De Wolf the
condition on which I should be induced to locate here. Well, I'm
pretty sure of her, and I have at length determined to hang out my
shingle, and go to work. I can see no way but to persuade mother and
Louise to come out here and live with us."

"Then, you are really engaged to Miss De Wolf, Ned?"

"Why, no, not exactly. I doubt whether we shall ever, really, be
formally engaged. I wouldn't be surprised if she told me, an hour
before our marriage, that she didn't intend to take me; but then, I
know she will. Poor old daddy has frequently volunteered the
information that the Pet will never marry a man, who has been guilty
of drinking a glass of lager beer. He says she is bitterly opposed to
anything that will _'toxicate_, but I suspect the experience she has
had with her father has put those ultra notions into her head."

"No wonder, Ned; the fact that there are hundreds of such cases as
Dr. De Wolf'