70
ing, as you say. That's the chief thing, I suppose. Folks seem to think so. I'm one of the million; I must do as the rest--build a house, and marry a wife some day. But not till I can support her like a lady, I tell you, Paul.'
There was the difference of many years between the man and the boy, but to no other person was Scheffer in the habit of saying such things.
'I'd like to see Madam Scheffer,' said Paul, with a quiet laugh. Scheffer was indulgent toward that mirth; he smiled as he said:
'Be patient, as I am, and you shall see her. There was a Mrs. Scheffer once--my mother that was; if there's another like her--I believe there is!'
'Can't you draw me her portrait?'
'Perhaps I could, if I cared.'
'But you don't care. Well, I can get it out of Josephine; she remembers your mother.'
Paul looked so much like his sister when he named the name of Josephine and of his mother in one breath, that Scheffer could not refuse him.
'Medium size,' he said, 'and built to last. Graceful, as any mother would have been--if--as she was, in spite of hard work--it was her nature, and her nature was a strong one. She has light hair, that curls as if it liked to, and her eyes are blue. It is a fair face, Paul, and she has a kind smile.'
'But tell me her name; for you need not say it's a fancy sketch.'
'May be not; but that, you see, is my secret.'
There was no such thing, in reality, as intruding further on this ground. Still, half embarrassed, Mitchell persisted:
'Where is she, though?'
'Where? I can't tell that.'
'With Cromwell?'
'It may be.'
'Would you trust her with him?'
'Is he not to be trusted?' asked August, so quickly as to startle Paul.
If Paul was to be startled--but he was not. The teller in the bank had told him--(Paul was one of those persons with whom acquaintances of every quality lodge their secrets)--of the note Scheffer had taken up with so little fuss and so much amazement. He saw that Aug