fter this conversation, Frank came on his usual visit to
Maggie.

"Can you come up to the thorn-tree, dearest?" said he. "It is a lovely day,
and I want the solace of a quiet hour's talk with you."

So they went, and sat in silence some time, looking at the calm and still
blue air about the summits of the hills, where never tumult of the world
came to disturb the peace, and the quiet of whose heights was never broken
by the loud passionate cries of men.

"I am glad you like my thorn-tree," said Maggie.

"I like the view from it. The thought of the solitude which must be among
the hollows of those hills pleases me particularly to-day. Oh, Maggie! it
is one of the times when I get depressed about men and the world. We have
had such sorrow, and such revelations, and remorse, and passion at home
to-day. Crayston (my father's old tenant) has come over. It seems--I am
afraid there is no doubt of it--he has been peculating to a large amount.
My father has been too careless, and has placed his dependents in great
temptation; and Crayston--he is an old man, with a large extravagant
family--has yielded. He has been served with notice of my father's
intention to prosecute him; and came over to confess all, and ask for
forgiveness, and time to pay back what he could. A month ago, my father
would have listened to him, I think; but now, he is stung by Mr. Henry's
sayings, and gave way to a furious passion. It has been a most distressing
morning. The worst side of everybody seems to have come out. Even Crayston,
with all his penitence and appearance of candor, had to be questioned
closely by Mr. Henry before he would tell the whole truth. Good God! that
money should have such power to corrupt men. It was all for money, and
money's worth, that this degradation has taken place. As for Mr. Henry, to
save his client money, and to protect money, he does not care--he does
not even perceive--how he induces deterioration of character. He has
been encouraging my father in measures which I cannot call anything but
vindictive. Crayston is to be made an example of, they say. As if my father
had not half the sin on his own head! As if he had rightly discharged his
duties as a rich man! Money was as dross to him; but he ought to have
remembered how it might be as life itself to many, and be craved after, and
coveted, till the black longing got the better of principle, as it has done
with this poor Crayston. They say the man was once so truthful,