Subject: Has no right, but by courtesy, to any equality. A little taste, perhaps, and

From: Onaga <[email-masked]>
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 2009 11:33:08 -0400

Nd in a humor to be bored by him. Perhaps she looked back regretfully,
but, as far as could be told by her manner, she carried herself proudly,
with the air of one who says,-- "Better reign in hell than serve in
heaven." The observant reader has doubtless wondered before this, that
Mr. Sandford did not, in his emergency, apply to his old clerk,
Fletcher, for the money in exchange for the peculiar obligation of which
mention has been made. It is presuming too much upon Mr. Sandford's
stupidity to suppose that the idea had not frequently occurred to him.
But he was satisfied that Fletcher was one of the few who were making
money in this time of general distress, and that with every day's
acquisition the paper became more valuable; therefore, as it was his
last trump, he preferred to play it when it would sweep the board; and
he was willing to live in any way until the proper time came. Not so
easy was Fletcher. Several times he attempted to pay the claim, so that
he could once more hold his head erect as a free man. But Sandford
smiled blandly; "he was in no hurry," he said; "Mr. Fletcher evidently
had money, and was good for the amount." Poor Fletcher!--walking about
with a rope around his neck,--a long rope now, and slack,--but held by a
man who knows not what pity means! CHAPTER XXV. Greenleaf pursued his
search for Alice with all the ardor of his nature. One glimpse only he
had of her;--at a clothing-store, where he inquired, the clerk seemed to
recognize the description given, and was quite sure that such a girl had
taken out work, but he knew nothing of her whereabouts, and he believed
she was now employed by another establishment. It was something to know
that she was in the city, and, probably, not destitute; still better to
know what path of life she had chosen, so that his time need not be
wasted in fruitless inquiries. On his return, after the second day's
search, he sought his friend Easelmann, whose counsel and sympathy he
particularly desired. "Any tidings of the fugitive?" was the first
question. "No," replied Greenleaf,--"nothing satisfactory. I have heard
of her once; but it was like a trail in the woods, which the hunter
comes upon, then loses utterly." "But the hunter who measures a track
once will be likely to find it again." "Yes, I have that consolation. Bu