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girl, named Nancy Hewitt, but in some way or other the match had been
broken off; the girl died, Goodson remained a bachelor, and by-and-by
became a soured one and a frank despiser of the human species. Soon
after the girl's death the village found out, or thought it had found
out, that she carried a spoonful of negro blood in her veins. Richards
worked at these details a good while, and in the end he thought he
remembered things concerning them which must have gotten mislaid in his
memory through long neglect. He seemed to dimly remember that it was
he that found out about the negro blood; that it was he that told the
village; that the village told Goodson where they got it; that he thus
saved Goodson from marrying the tainted girl; that he had done him this
great service "without knowing the full value of it," in fact without
knowing that he was doing it; but that Goodson knew the value of it,
and what a narrow escape he had had, and so went to his grave grateful to
his benefactor and wishing he had a fortune to leave him. It was all
clear and simple, now, and the more he went over it the more luminous and
certain it grew; and at last, when he nestled to sleep, satisfied and
happy, he remembered the whole thing just as if it had been yesterday. In
fact, he dimly remembered Goodson's telling him his gratitude once.
Meantime Mary had spent six thousand dollars on a new house for herself
and a pair of slippers for her pastor, and then had fallen peacefully to
rest.
That same Saturday evening the postman had delivered a letter to each of
the other principal citizens--nineteen letters in all. No two of the
envelopes were alike, and no two of the superscriptions were in the same
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