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“There is but one way of safety and peace,” he said, “and that way we must take, whether the entrance to it be smooth or thorny.”

“Why need we sell our handsome furniture?” asked Mrs. Tompkins, in a hoarse voice.

“For the same reason that we have for selling our house,” firmly returned her husband–“because it is necessary.”

Mr. Tompkins spoke so decidedly, that his wife felt that remonstrance would be unavailing. Having once admitted the truth of all he had alleged, she had no ground for opposition. Completely subdued, she became altogether passive, and left her husband to do just as he pleased. The pressing nature of his affairs made him prompt to carry out all the reforms he had proposed. In less than a week he found a purchaser for his house, and was able to sell it on tolerably fair terms. The real-estate agent who had made the sale for him, had left his store but a short time after communicating all the preliminaries of the transaction, when old Wolford entered with a slow gait and a look of resolution.

“Will you be ready with that money to-morrow?” said he, fixing his small, keen eyes upon the merchant, and bending his brows.

“No!” was the decisive answer.

“Then I shall foreclose the mortgage.”

“You will not do that, certainly,” returned Tompkins, in a quiet tone, something like a smile playing about his lips.

“Won’t I? Don’t trust to that, my friend. I always keep contracts to the letter, and exact them from others, when made to me, as rigidly. You borrowed my money for a year, on a mortgage of your property. That year is up to-morrow. If the money does not come, I will immediately have your property sold.”

“I have been ahead of you,” coolly replied Tompkins.

“What do you mean?”

“I have already sold the property.”

The miser seemed stunned by the intelligence.

“Sold it?,” he asked, after a moment–“why have you sold it?”

“In order to get out of your clutches, now and for ever. You have had a good deal of my money in your time, and fool enough have I been to let you get your fingers upon it! But you will never get another dollar from me! You were not content with eighteen hundred dollars a year as the interest on fifteen thousand–wasn’t I a fool to pay it?–but you must try to put your foot still more heavily on my neck! But you have overreached yourself. Your mortgage on my property is not worth that!–(snapping his fingers.) Didn’t you know this before?”

“What do you mean?” Wolford showed considerable alarm.

“You took twelve per cent. per annum?”

“I know I did.”

“And that is usury?”

“It is a fair interest. Money is always worth the market price.”

“The law says that all over six per cent. is usury; and the taking of such excess vitiates the transaction.”

“Do you mean to put in that plea?”

“Yes, if you take the first step toward foreclosing your mortgage, or show yourself in my store until I send for you, which I will do when it is perfectly convenient for me to pay your fifteen thousand dollars, and not before.”

“Oh, take your time, Mr. Tompkins–take your time–I am in no particular hurry for the money,” said Wolford, with an altered tone and manner–“Just when it is convenient will suit me.”

“Are you sure of that?” said the merchant, speaking with a slight sneer upon his lip.

“Oh, yes! I thought I would need the money now, but I believe I will not. The mortgage can remain as long as you want it.”

“I don’t want it long,” muttered Tompkins, turning toward his desk, and taking no further notice of the alarmed and discomfited usurer.

In about two weeks he had the pleasure of handing him the whole amount of the loan, and getting a release of the property. Wolford tried to be very affable and apologetic; but he was treated according to the merchant’s estimation of his real character, and not otherwise.