Bowerton was a very quiet place. It had no factories, mills, or mines, or other special inducements to offer people looking for new localities; and as it was not on a railroad line, nor even on an important post-road, it gained but few new inhabitants.
Even of travelers Bowerton saw very few. An occasional enterprising peddler or venturesome thief found his way to the town, and took away such cash as came in their way while pursuing their respective callings; but peddlers were not considered exactly trustworthy as news-bearers, while house-breakers, when detained long enough to be questioned, were not in that communicative frame of mind which is essential to one who would interest the general public.
When, therefore, the mail-coach one day brought to Bowerton an old lady and a young one, who appeared to be mother and daughter, excitement ran high.
The proprietor of the Bowerton House, who was his own clerk, hostler, and table-waiter, was for a day or two the most popular man in town; even the three pastors of the trio of churches of Bowerton did not consider it beneath their dignity to join the little groups which were continually to be seen about the person of the landlord, and listening to the meagre intelligence he was able to give.
The old lady was quite feeble, he said, and the daughter was very affectionate and very handsome. He didn\'t know where they were going, but they registered themselves from Boston. Name was Wyett—young lady\'s name was Helen. He hoped they wouldn\'t leave for a long time—travelers weren\'t any too plenty at Bowerton, and landlords found it hard work to scratch along. Talked about locating at Bowerton if they could find a suitable cottage. Wished \'em well, but hoped they\'d take their time, and not be in a hurry to leave the Bowerton House, where—if he did say it as shouldn\'t—they found good rooms and good board at the lowest living price.
The Wyetts finally found a suitable cottage, and soon afterward they began to receive heavy packages and boxes from the nearest railway station.
Then it was that the responsible gossips of Bowerton were worked nearly to death, but each one was sustained by a fine professional pride which enabled them to pass creditably through the most exciting period.
For years they had skillfully pried into each other\'s private affairs, but then they had some starting-place, some clue; now, alas! there was not in all Bowerton a single person who had emigrated from Boston, where the Wyetts had lived. Worse still, there was not a single Bowertonian who had a Boston correspondent.
To be sure, one of the Bowerton pastors had occasional letters from a missionary board, whose headquarters were at the Hub, but not even the most touching appeals from members of his flock could induce him to write the board concerning the newcomers.
But Bowerton was not to be balked in its striving after accurate intelligence.
From Squire Brown, who leased Mrs. Wyett a cottage, it learned that Mrs. Wyett had made payment by check on an excellent Boston bank. The poor but respectable female who washed the floors of the cottage informed the public that the whole first floor was to be carpeted with Brussels.
The postmaster\'s clerk ascertained and stated that Mrs. Wyett received two religious papers per week, whereas no else in Bowerton took more than one.
The grocer said that Mrs. Wyett was, by jingo, the sort of person he liked to trade with—wouldn\'t have anything that wasn\'t the very best.
The man who helped to do the unpacking was willing to take oath that among the books were a full set of Barnes, Notes, and two sets of commentaries, while Mrs. Battle, who lived in the house next to the cottage, and who was suddenly, on hearing the crashing of crockery next door, moved to neighborly kindness to the extent of carrying in a nice hot pie to the newcomers, declared that, as she hoped to be saved, there wasn\'t a bit of crockery in that house which wasn\'t pure china.
Bowerton asked no more. Brussels carpets, religious tendencies, a bank account, the ability to live on the best that the market afforded, and to eat it from china, and china only—why, either one of these qualifications was a voucher of respectability, and any two of them constituted a patent of aristocracy of the Bowerton standard.
Bowerton opened its doors, and heartily welcomed Mrs. and Miss Wyett.
It is grievous to relate, but the coming of the estimable people was the cause of considerable trouble in Bowerton.
Bowerton, like all other places, contained lovers, and some of the young men were not so blinded by the charms of their own particular lady friends as to be oblivious to the beauty of Miss Wyett.
She was extremely modest and retiring, but she was also unusually handsome and graceful, and she had an expression which the young men of Bowerton could not understand, but which they greatly admired.
It was useless for plain girls to say that they couldn\'t see anything remarkable about Miss Wyett; it was equally unavailing for good-looking girls to caution their gallants against too much of friendly regard even for a person of whose antecedents they really knew scarcely anything.
Even casting chilling looks at Miss Wyett when they met her failed to make that unoffending young lady any less attractive to the young men of Bowerton, and critical analysis of Miss Wyett\'s style of dressing only provoked manly comparisons, which were as exasperating as they were unartistic.
Finally Jack Whiffer, who was of a first family, and was a store-clerk besides, proposed to Miss Wyett and was declined; then the young ladies of Bowerton thought that perhaps Helen Wyett had some sense after all.
Then young Baggs, son of a deceased Congressman, wished to make Miss Wyett mistress of the Baggs mansion and sharer of the Baggs money, but his offer was rejected.
Upon learning this fact, the maidens of Bowerton pronounced Helen a noble-spirited girl to refuse to take Baggs away from the dear, abused woman who had been engaged to him for a long time.
Several other young men had been seen approaching the Wyett cottage in the full glory of broadcloth and hair-oil, and were noticeably depressed in spirits for days afterward, and the native ladies of marriageable age were correspondingly elated when they heard of it.
When at last the one unmarried minister of Bowerton, who had been the desire of many hearts, manfully admitted that he had proposed and been rejected, and that Miss Wyett had informed him that she was already engaged, all the Bowerton girls declared that Helen Wyett was a darling old thing, and that it was perfectly shameful that she couldn\'t be let alone.
After thus proving that their own hearts were in the right place, all the Bowerton girls asked each other who the lucky man could be.
Of course he couldn\'t be a Bowerton man, for Miss Wyett was seldom seen in company with any gentleman. He must he a Boston man—he was probably very literary—Boston men always were.
Besides, if he was at all fit for her, he must certainly be very handsome.
Suddenly Miss Wyett became the rage among the Bowerton girls. Blushingly and gushingly they told her of their own loves, and they showed her their lovers, or pictures of those gentlemen.
Miss Wyett listened, smiled and sympathized, but when they sat silently expectant of similar confidences, they were disappointed, and when they endeavored to learn even the slightest particular of Helen Wyett\'s love, she changed the subject of conversation so quickly and decidedly that they had not the courage to renew the attempt.
But while most Bowertonians despaired of learning much more about the Wyetts, and especially about Helen\'s lover, there was one who had resolved not only to know the favored man, but to do him some frightful injury, and that was little Guzzy.
Though Guzzy\'s frame was small, his soul was immense, and Helen\'s failure to comprehend Guzzy\'s greatness when he laid it all at her feet had made Guzzy extremely bilious and gloomy.
Many a night, when Guzzy\'s soul and body should have been taking their rest, they roamed in company up and down the quiet street on which the Wyetts\' cottage was located, and Guzzy\'s eyes, instead of being fixed on sweet pictures in dreamland, gazed vigilantly in the direction of Mrs. Wyett\'s gate.
He did not meditate inflicting personal violence on the hated wretch who had snatched away Helen from his hopes—no, personal violence could produce suffering but feeble compared with that under which the victim would writhe as Guzzy poured forth the torrent of scornful invective which he had compiled from the memories of his bilious brain and the pages of his "Webster Unabridged."
At length there came a time when most men would have despaired.
Love is warm, but what warmth is proof against the chilling blasts and pelting rains of the equinoctial storm?
But then it was that the fervor of little Guzzy\'s soul showed itself; for, wrapped in the folds of a waterproof overcoat, he paced his accustomed beat with the calmness of a faithful policeman.
And he had his reward.
As one night he stood unseen against the black background of a high wall, opposite the residence of Mrs. Wyett, he heard the gate—her gate—creak on its hinges.
It could be no ordinary visitor, for it was after nine o\'clock—it must be he.
Ha! the lights were out! He would be disappointed, the villain! Now was the time, while his heart would be bleeding with sorrow, to wither him with reproaches. To be sure, he seemed a large man, while Guzzy was very small, but Guzzy believed his own thin legs to be faithful in an emergency.
The unknown man knocked softly at the front-door, then he seemed to tap at several of the windows.
Suddenly he raised one of the windows, and Guzzy, who had not until then suspected that he had been watching a house-breaker, sped away like the wind and alarmed the solitary constable of Bowerton.
That functionary requested Guzzy to notify Squire Jones, justice of the peace, that there was business ahead, and then hastened away himself.
Guzzy labored industriously for some moments, for Squire Jones was very old, and very cautious, and very stupid; but he was at last fully aroused, and then Guzzy had an opportunity to reflect on the greatness which would be his when Bowerton knew of his meritorious action.
And Helen Wyett—what would be her shame and contrition when she learned that the man whose love she had rejected had become the preserver of her peace of mind and her portable personal property?
He could not exult over her, for that would be unchivalrous; but would not her own conscience reproach her bitterly?
Perhaps she would burst into tears in the court-room, and thank him effusively and publicly! Guzzy\'s soul swelled at the thought, and he rapidly composed a reply appropriate to such an occasion. Suddenly Guzzy heard footsteps approaching, and voices in earnest altercation.
Guzzy hastened into the squire\'s office, and struck an attitude befitting the importance of a principal witness.
An instant later the constable entered, followed by two smart-looking men, who had between them a third man, securely handcuffed.
The prisoner was a very handsome, intelligent-looking young man, except for a pair of restless, over-bright eyes.
"There\'s a difference of opinion \'bout who the prisoner belongs to," said the constable, addressing the squire; "and we agreed to leave the matter to you. When I reached the house, these gentlemen already had him in hand, and they claim he\'s an escaped convict, and that they\'ve tracked him from the prison right straight to Bowerton."
The prisoner gave the officers a very wicked look, while these officials produced their warrants and handed them to the justice for inspection.
Guzzy seemed to himself to grow big with accumulating importance.
"The officers seem to be duly authorized," said the squire, after a long and minute examination of their papers; "but they should identify the prisoner as the escaped convict for whom they are searching."
"Here\'s a description," said one of the officers, "in an advertisement: \'Escaped from the Penitentiary, on the ——th instant, William Beigh, alias Bay Billy, alias Handsome; age, twenty-eight; height, five feet ten; complexion dark, hair black, eyes dark brown, mole on left cheek; general appearance handsome, manly, and intelligent. A skillful and dangerous burglar. Sentenced in 1866 to five years\' imprisonment—two years yet to serve.\' That," continued the officer, "describes him to a dot; and, if there\'s any further doubt, look here!"
As he spoke, he unclasped a cloak which the prisoner wore, and disclosed the striped uniform of the prison.
"There seems no reasonable doubt in this case, and the prisoner will have to go back to prison," said the justice. "But I must detain him until I ascertain whether he has stolen anything from Mrs. Wyett\'s residence. In case he has done so, we can prosecute at the expiration of his term."
The prisoner seemed almost convulsed with rage, though of a sort which one of the officers whispered to the other, he did not exactly understand.
Guzzy eyed him resentfully, and glared at the officers with considerable disfavor.
Guzzy was a law-abiding man, but to have an expected triumph belittled and postponed because of foreign interference was enough to blind almost any man\'s judicial eyesight.
"Well," said one of the officers, "put him in the lo............