“Ay, if he begin at twenty, and keep even pace with his beloved down the descent of time.” “That may all be true; but, if it has been his misfortune to lose one partner, a second——” “And a third, Ned, a third—why not foot the bill at once, as they say in the market?” “Well, a third, too, if circumstances make that demand on him. Anything is better than leaving the affections to stagnate for want of cultivation.” “Adam in Paradise, by Jove!—But, I’ll not reproach you again, since you have got so gentle and kind a creature, and one who is twenty years your junior——” “Only eighteen, if you please, Mr. Dunscomb.” “Now, I should be glad to know whether you have added those two years to the bride’s age, or subtracted them from that of the bridegroom! I suppose the last, however, as a matter of course.” “I do not well see how you can suppose any such thing, knowing my age as well as you do. Mrs. McBrain is forty-two, an age when a woman can be as loveable as at nineteen—more so, if her admirer happens to be a man of sense.” “And sixty-two. Well, Ned, you are incorrigible; and, for the sake of the excellent woman who has consented to have you, I only hope this will be the last exhibition of your weakness. So they talk a good deal of Mary Monson, up and down the country, do they?” “Of little else, I can assure you. I am sorry to say, the tide seems to be setting strongly against her.” “That is bad news; as few jurors, now-a-days, are superior to such an influence. What is said, in particular, Dr. McBrain?—In the way of facts, I mean?” “One report is that the accused is full of money; and that a good deal of that which she is scattering broad-cast has been seen by different persons, at different times, in the possession of the deceased Mrs. Goodwin.” “Let them retail that lie, far and near, ’Squire, and we’ll turn it to good account,” said Timms, taking out his note-book, and writing down what he had just heard. “I have reason to think that every dollar Miss Monson has uttered since her confinement——” “Imprisonment would be a better word, Mr. Timms,” interrupted the Doctor. “I see no great difference,” replied the literal attorney—“but imprisonment, if you prefer it. I have reason to think that every dollar Mary Monson has put in circulation since she entered the gaol at Biberry, has come from either young Mr. Wilmeter or myself, in exchange for hundred-dollar notes—and, in one instance, for a note of five hundred dollars. She is well off, I can tell you, gentlemen; and if she is to be executed, her executor will have something to do when all is over.” “You do not intend to allow her to be hanged, Timms?” demanded McBrain, aghast.