Page:The Knife.pdf/24

138 hence your brother will not be the only person you'll plague." So saying, the lawyer pushed his horse into a sort of discontented trot. A brisk ride, however, was exceedingly beneficial; and both he and his friends did full justice to the fresh trout and small mutton, which, for a score of years, the same landlord had prepared, and the same guests partaken of, at the White Hart. After dinner they gathered round the large, bright coal fire, whose one neatly-cut log emitted a shower of sparkles at every touch of the poker,—talked of former times,—sipped some fine old port, with a cobweb dress as fragile and more precious than any blonde veil Chantilly ever produced,—and felt more and more convinced, that though the world was a very bad one, yet there were some few things in it worth living for. All recollection of the children and of their conversation had faded from Mr. Harvey's memory; but when a small tortoise-shell penknife was produced on the trial,—with that cultivated acuteness which formed so large a part both of his natural and acquired character, the coincidence instantly struck him. He was not engaged on either side; so, leaving the court, he drove with all rapidity to the farm in the green and lonely lane. It was about five miles distant. The farmer was at home, and the barrister soon explained both his business and his plan.