In a few moments after these worthies had disappeared within the house, the door was again opened, and Chief Justice Chandler, the man to whose singularly compounded character, made up of timidity, selfishness, vanity, thirst of power, kindness, and duplicity, or rather the conduct that flowed from it, may be mainly attributed the bloody tragedy that ensued, now made his appearance in the street. He wore a powdered wig, according to the fashion of the times among men of his official station, and his whole toilet had evidently been made with much attention. Carelessly flirting a light cane in his hand, and assuming an air of easy unconcern, he leisurely took his way along the street, towards the Court House, bowing low, and blandly smiling to every one he met, and often even crossing to the opposite side of the street to exchange salutations with the passer-by, to each of whom, whatever his party or station, he was sure to say something complimentary, and aimed with no little sagacity to reach the peculiar feelings and interests of the person addressed. “This is Mr. French, I believe,” he said, turning out of his course to speak to the young man introduced in the last chapter, who, with the same restless, anxious look he then wore, was unobservantly hurrying by the other, on his way to the Court House. “Yes, yes, sir,” replied French, slightly checking his speed, and looking back, with a half-surprised, half-vacant expression. “Ay, I was sure I knew you,” rejoined the judge. “How are the times with you, Mr. French? You will pardon my freedom, sir, but the great interest I take in the success of our enterprising and intelligent young men like yourself--But no matter now. I see you are in haste. I will not detain you, sir. A very good day to you, Mr. French.” “Well, upon my word, now, here is my friend Colonel Carpenter!” he again exclaimed, as, turning from the person he had just saluted with such poor success, his quick and wary eye caught sight of the gentleman thus addressed coming up behind him. “Most happy to fall in with you, colonel,” he continued, grasping and warmly shaking the hand of the other. “How are your family, sir? Shall I confess it, colonel? I have really sometimes greatly envied you.” “Why so, sir?” asked Carpenter, with a little coolness. “Envied you your well-deserved appellation--that of _Friend of the People_, as they call you,” replied the judge. “The people need a friend at this crisis, I think, sir,” responded the unbought yeoman, with cold dignity. “If there is one title that I should covet above all others,” resumed the judge, without appearing to notice the drift of the other's remark, “it would be the one I have named. What can be a more truly honorable distinction? I have often regretted being so trammelled by my station on the bench, as to prevent me from acting as I would otherwise like to do. But a judge, you know, colonel, in party times, must not act openly on any particular side.”