The Cecil Whig., 1874-12-19
THE STORY OF SEVENOAKS.

["The Story of fSevenoaks, by J. G. Eol.
land, will commence in Scribner's Monthly,
for January. Wehave been furnished with
advanced sheets of the two first chapters,
from which we make the following extract,
"Robert Belcher," said he, addressing
the image in the mirror, "you are brick
Yes, sir, you are a brick You, Robert
Belcher, sir, are an almighty smart man.
You've done it. You started small, but
you've ended large. You've outwitted the
whole of 'em. Look at me, sir Dare you
tell me sir, that am not master Of the sit
uation? All! you hesitate; it is well
They all come to me, every man of 'em.
They knuckle to me. 1t is Mr.. Belcher,
will you be so good . and Mr.. Belcher, l
hope you are very well,' and Mr.. Belcher,
l want you to do better by me- Ha ha
ha . ha My name is Norval. 1t isn't ?
Say that again and I'll throttle you? Yes,
sir I'll shake your rascally head off your
! shoulders Down, down in the dust, and
! beg my pardon 1t is we'll; go! Get you
gone, sir, and remember not to beard the
lion in his den -
Exactly what this performance meant, it
would be difficult to say Mr.. Belcher, in
his visits to the city, had frequented thea
ters and admired the villains Of the plays
he had seen represented. He had noticed
| figures upon the boards that reminded him
of his own. His addresses to his mirror
! afforded him an opportunity to exercise his
/ gifts of speech and action, and, at the same
time, to give form to his self-gratulations.
They amused him; they ministered to his
preposterous vanity. He had no compan-
! ions in the town, and the habit gave him a
sense of society, and helped to pass away
his evenings At the close of his effort he
sat down and lit another cigar. Growing
! drowsy, he laid it down on little stand at
his side, and settled back in his chair for a
nap. He had hardly shut his eyes when
there came rap upon his door,
| "Come in! -
"Please, sir" said scared looking maid,
opening the door just wide enough to make
room for her face.
:
that the girl cringed.
"Please, sir, Miss Butterworth is at the
door, and would like to see you."
| Now, Miss Butterworth was the one per-
son in all Sevenoaks who was not afraid of
Robert Belcher She had been at the pub
lie school with him when they were chill
dren; she had known every circumstance of
his history; she was not dependent on him
in any way, and she carried in her head an
honest and fearless tongue. She was an
itinerant tailoress, and having worked, first
and last, in nearly every family in the town,
she knew the circumstance of them all, and
knew too well the connection of Robert
Belcher with their troubles and reverses.
In Mr.. Belcher's present condition of self
complacency and somnolency, she was not
welcome visitor. Bellgerent as he had
been toward his own image in the mirror,
he shrank from meeting Keziah Butter
worth, for he knew instinctively that she
had come with some burden of complaint.
"Come in" said Mr.. Belcher to his SER
want, "and shut the door, behind you
The girl came in, shut the door, and
waited, leaning against it.
"Go," said her master in low tone,
"and tell Mrs. Belcher that am busy, and
that she must choke her off. | can't see
her to- night. can't see her."
The girl returned, and soon afteward Mrs.
Belcher came, and reported that she could
do nothing with Miss Butterworth-tha
Miss Butterworth was determined to see
him before she left the house.
"Bring her in; I'll make short work with
her,
As soon as Mrs. Belcher retired, her hus-
band hurried to the mirror, brushed his
hair back fiercely, and then sat down to
pile of papers that he always kept convent
emily upon his library table.
"Come in" said Mr.. Belcher in his
blandest tone, when Miss Butterworth was
conducted to his room.
"Ah Keziah % said Mr.. Belcher, look
ing up with smile, as if an unexpected
old friend had intruded upon him.
"My name is Butterworth, and it's got
handle to it," said that bumptious lady,
quickly.
"Well, but Keziah, you know we used
to -
"My name is Butterworth, tell you,
and it's got handle to it."
"Well, Miss Butterworth-happy to see
you-hope you are well-take chair"
NJ
dropping down upon the edge of a large
chair, whose back felt no pressure from
hers during the interview. The expression
of Mr.. Belcher's happiness in seeing her,
and his kind suggestion concerning her
health, had overspread Miss Butterworth's
countenance with derisive smile, and
though she was evidently moved to tell
him that he lied, she had reasons for re-
straining her tongue.
They formed curious study, as they sat
there together, during the first embarrass-
ing moments. The man had spent his life
in schemes for absorbing the products of
the labor of others. He was cunning, bru-
tai, vain, snowy, and essentially vulgar.
from his head to his feet, in every fiber of
body and soul. The woman had earned
with her own busy hands every dollar of
money she had ever possessed. She would
not have wronged a dog for her own per-
sonal advantage. Her black eyes, lean and
spirited face, her prematurely whitening
locks, as they were exposed by the back
ward fall of her old fashioned quilted hood,
presented physiognomy at once piquant
and prepossessng.
Robert Becher knew that the woman
before him was fearless and incorruptible.
| He knew that she despised him-that bully
ing and brow beating would have no intlu
ence with her, that his ready badinage
would not avail, and that coaxing and soft
words would be equally useless. In her
presence, he was shorn of all his weapons
and he never felt SO defenseless and ill at
ease in his life.
| AS Miss Butterworth did not seem in