“'Who made you, sir? who made you?' cried he, at last, with a voice trembling with rage. “'The same hand that made ns all,' said the other, calmly. 'The same wise Providence that, for his own ends, creates drones as well as bees, and makes rickety old baronets as well as men of brains and industry.' “'You shall rue this insolence; it shall cost you dearly, by Heaven!' cried out the old man, as he gripped me tighter. 'You are a witness, sir, to the way I have been insulted. I 'll foreclose your mortgage--I 'll call in every shilling I have advanced--I 'll sell the house over your head--' “'Ay! but the head without a roof over it will hold itself higher than your own, old man. The good faculties and good health God has given me are worth all your title-deeds twice told. If I walk out of this town as poor as the day I came into it, I 'll go with the calm certainty that I can earn my bread,--a process that would be very difficult for _you_ when you could not lend out money on interest.' “'Give me your arm, sir, back to the town,' said the old Baronet to me; I feel myself too ill to go all alone.' “'Get him to step into the house and take something,' whispered Whalley in my ear, as he turned away and left us. But I was afraid to propose it; indeed, if I had, I believe the old man would have had a fit on the spot, for he trembled from head to foot, and drew long sighs, as if recovering out of a faint. “'Is there an inn near this,' asked he, where I can stop? and have you a doctor here?' “'You can have both, Sir Elkanah,' said I. “'You know me, then?--you know who I am?' said he, hastily, as I called him by his name. “'That I do, sir, and I hold my place under you; my name is Shore.' “'Yes, I remember,' said he, vaguely, as he moved away. When we came to the gate on the road he turned around full and looked at the house, overgrown with that rich red creeper that was so much admired. 'Mark my words, my good man,' said he,--mark them well, and as sure as I live, I 'll not leave one stone on another of that dwelling there.'” “He was promising more than he could perform,” said the attorney. “I don't know that,” sighed the meek man; “there's very little that money can't do in this life.” “And what has become of Whalley's widow,--if she be a widow?” asked one. “She's in a poor way. She's up at the village yonder, and, with the help of one of her girls, she's trying to keep a children's school.” “Lady Whalley's school?'” exclaimed one, in half sarcasm. “Yes; but she has taken her maiden name again since this disaster, and calls herself Mrs. Herbert.” “Has she more than one daughter, sir?” I asked of the last speaker. “Yes, there are two girls; the younger one, they tell me, is going, or gone abroad, to take some situation or other,--a teacher, or a governess.”