“Madam,” said he, after a short pause, and in a voice which seemed stoutly braced with resolution, and yet just ready to break down, “I have requested your presence here, in order that you might read these papers, for they somewhat concern you;” and taking up the certificate of marriage, and the articles of separation, he held them out toward her. She received them, with a word of thanks, thinking no doubt, that they were titles to the property which I had induced her to believe was to be bestowed upon her. As she read the articles, her color left her, and a cold sweat started from her brow and rolled down her face, and wet her garments. The certificate she carried twice to her eyes, and twice failed to read, but glared upon it like one who sees a vision in his sleep: the third time she read it aloud, screaming as if to make certain with her voice, what her eyes doubted. “And this,” shouted Cornelius, drawing the picture from his bosom and holding it up, her other self, before her. “My God—my father!” she exclaimed, rising slowly, and pulling at her fingers; then swayed to and fro, uncertain of her step; leaped into the old man’s arms, fastened about his neck, and slept insensible, upon his bosom. John Cornelius sank with his burden upon the floor, and wept, and sobbed like a child. A broad, plain, gold ring rolled bounding to my feet. I picked it up. Within the circle were engraved two letters, “J. C.” It was the bridal ring, a gift from her mother, as Ægeus gave his sword to Æthra, that the father might recognize his child, when in the fulfillment of time they should meet. SECTION X. Merry days these—happy days these—let us laugh and grow fat, for to-morrow we die. The miser’s daughter had a hundred suitors, and well she might; for she was young, and beautiful, and pure. And was she not heir-apparent of millions? Good Lord! Good Lord! how they did amble, and trot, and show their paces, and protest, and pray, and besiege—all to no purpose! And those jurymen, too, who were baulked of their verdict, did they not open their eyes widely when the story was told them, and say that they knew it would be so? And the judge, did he not crack his joke with the junior counsel, and bemoan the young man’s stars which had so betrayed his interest, and wagged his tongue with some venom in it, upon the losing side? And the counsel, senior and junior—did they not assume a show of wisdom, and say that from the beginning they had no confidence in the cause? A blind business was it with us all, when we undertook to mete out justice to father and daughter, with a seven-fold cloud before our eyes; and a blind business the law ever is. Quid faciant leges, ubi sola pecunia regnat, Aut ubi paupertus vincere nulla potent? Ipri, qui cynica traducunt tempora cœna, Nonnum quum nummis vendere verba solent. Ergo judicium nihil est, nisi publica muces, Atque equis, in caussa qui redet, emtor probat.